Jouer ses cartes

by laurie_ky

Summary:

A sequel to Pour Encourager Les Autres by Author!Anon. To encourage the rest of Destiny's crew to fall into line with their Lucian Alliance captors, Rush was publicly raped and degraded for three days as the crew was forced to watch. Kiva offered to spare Rush's life if one of the crew would also rape Rush. Colonel Young won't let anyone else bear that dark mark on their soul, so he agrees. They'll need Rush to take back the ship. And he's not willing to see the man dead.

Now the Alliance has Destiny, the military are imprisoned while Kiva decides their fate, and Rush is freed to return to work.

If that dead-eyed, silent shaken man is still Rush.

Author's notes: This is a rough story; there are multiple triggers, so please heed the warnings. To understand this story's origin, read Pour Encourager Les Autresfirst, but be aware that it also contains multiple triggers and brutality. Author!Anon's story was based on a Tumblr prompt; there's a link to that post with their notes.

Written with Author!Anon's permission.

Notes:

• Inspired by Pour Encourager Les Autres by orphan_account

Translation of the title: Play the Cards.

My thanks go to Nonymos who helped me with the French translation. She also, being a scholar, researched the quote I used and she discovered that while it is a widely known quote in English, attributed to Voltaire, there's some pretty healthy skepticism that it is actually a French Voltaire quote. The original story's title is another Voltaire quote, translated as "For the Encouragement of Others" and the history behind it was fascinating. As was the story, which hit me in the gut, and I wanted to explore what could have played out after those events. For another possible future, read the comment story in the original story's comments.

Chapter 1: Kresh'ta

Chaque joueur doit accepter les cartes que la vie lui distribue.
Mais une fois qu'il les a en main, lui seul peut décider comment
jouer ses cartes pour gagner la partie.

Each player must accept the cards life deals him. 
But once they are in hand, he alone must decide 
how to play the cards in order to win the game.

(Attributed to Voltaire.)

* * *

Everett stands at parade rest while Kiva crosses the mess and bends down to whisper something in Rush's ear. He stares at Rush, bound and bent almost double on that damn table, made filthy by what's been happening to him for the last three days. His eyes are open, but he doubts that the poor bastard is taking in Kiva's words or what's going on.

Not anymore.

Rush is never going to be the same again. The man is tough, Everett knows that, knows that he's been through shit that would have shattered most people. Torture by the Nakai, torture by the Alliance.

This is so much worse. Everett takes in the looks on the people standing or sitting in the mess, some of them trying to choke down a bowl of paste. Pity, terror, anger, disgust, horror. The crew can't look away from Rush or one of the Lucians will use their fists on them. Chloe is crying again. Greer has a murderous look on his face. He asked with his eyes and with subtle gestures if Everett would let him take his place in the line to shove his dick inside of Rush, but Everett had shook his head. He was the commander; he had let this situation happen through hesitation and it would be him that paid the price of compliance. He could still do at least that much to protect the crew.

He feels sick with disgust. He doesn't know how he's going to be able to look himself in the mirror anymore without feeling this overwhelming sense of loathing, but it had been better to hurt the man than to see him killed.

They need Rush. They need him to keep the ship running; no one else has the skills he does, in understanding Ancient, in coding and writing programs that interact with Destiny in a way that no one else has managed to do, not even Eli.

He needs Rush.

He needs him to help him take back the ship. Everett is going to be locked up but Rush is going to be free to work and move around the ship, and he's a devious little shit who can outwit his guards.

He needs Rush because they were not done with each other. The fighting, the truces that didn't hold, the way Everett sometimes wanted to put his hands on him and not beat him down. They weren't done with wherever they were going. Rush would look at him sometimes, and Everett would feel his mouth become desert dry, his palms damp, a heavy feeling settling in his groin.

Kiva would have killed Rush, sacrificed him despite his skills, he has no doubts about that, if one of the crew hadn't joined her band of thugs in hurting Rush. She's brutal, and has already proven to have no hesitation in shooting a crew member to make her point. With Rush, forcing him to be raped over and over, the insults, the degradation, the humiliation of knowing all of Destiny's crew was watching him, she wasn't satisfying a kink. She was using psychology like a sledge hammer.

She's made them all complicit in this crime, especially him, since it was his body used as a weapon against a helpless man. She's crushed any thoughts of resistance out of the crew, he can see it in their faces.

No one wants to take a chance on earning Kiva's ire, and finding themselves taking Rush's place on that table. The crew is as broken as Rush is, and that was what Kiva had wanted. Why she'd forced them all to watch Rush's punishment.

Kiva straightens up, slim and straight in her long black leather coat, and she actually is beautiful, if you examine her features, but there is nothing about her that is lovely. She is a warlord, and she's conquered this ship. She's conquered the man who had continued to defy her.

She takes one gloved hand and lifts Rush's head by yanking what's left of his hair upwards. Rush hardly seems to notice. She gazes out at the crew and everyone's attention becomes focused on her immediately.

“People of the Tauri. You will find that I am a reasonable person, as long as my orders are followed. I have generously allowed many of your transgressions to go unpunished, but that generosity ends now. This... man... has been what I believe in your language is called a scapegoat. Your defiance, your disobedience, he has paid the price for that, as well as paying for his own sins.”

I warn you. Do not disobey me, or my lieutenants, or you will find yourselves given justice as this man has been judged.”

For the crime of willfully refusing to work on the dialing problem and causing the deaths of over a hundred of my people; for continuing to lead a rebellion against us; for his willingness to cause unnecessary deaths of both my people and yours, this man was punished.”

I have learned a great deal about this crew, and it is common knowledge that this man took pride in the title he had earned. He will no longer have the name he was given at birth or that title. From now on, his name shall be, 'Kresh'ta.' It means outcast.”

Everett recognizes it. It's Goa'uld. The Alliance planets had been held by the Goa'uld before their downfall; many words had been assimilated by the humans of those planets.

“Kresh'ta will have a place on this ship, granted by my generosity. His skills as a scientist will be utilized, and I give permission to my people to use him as the whore he is if they so wish. I am, however, a merciful commander, and he shall have a month to recover before anyone is to take or touch him.” She directs this at her own people, accompanied with a forbidding stare.

“Colonel Young and the military personnel will be confined together. I intend to use your lives as bargaining chips with your IOA for the release of Alliance prisoners and the removal of your military from our worlds. Disobey me at your peril; you will be treated as Kresh'ta was treated and then either killed or abandoned on a planet. Cooperate, and perhaps a day will come when the military can rejoin the crew; you must prove yourselves worthy first.”

Or more likely, Everett thinks, they might try brainwashing them as they did David.

“The civilian crew and the medic will be allowed to return to their quarters and continue with their assigned duties. However, my people will be monitoring you. There will be guards and our own scientists assigned to the key stations. Obey them, and you shall live. Defy us and suffer the consequences.” Kiva slams Rush's head down on the table in emphasis.

“It is a great honor to be on Destiny, one that I believe most of you did not understand. You have been given a second chance to embrace that honor, and I suggest that you all take it.”

She beckons for TJ to step forward. “After Kresh'ta is taken from here, the civilians are free to go to their quarters or work stations. If you are unsure of your duties, report to Wray.”

Turning her gaze towards Camile, she says, “You are in charge of the work schedules for your people. If you have a problem you may come to me, but I warn you to be brief and precise. Do we have an understanding, Wray?”

Camile straightens her shoulders. “We do.”

“Unchain him,” she orders Varro. “The medic can decide if he's to be taken to his quarters or the infirmary.”

Camile and TJ do what they can to help Rush. The poor guy catches his eye after the chains are off him and the women are massaging his legs and moving his joints. He's back in his body from wherever he had gone to escape in his mind, that's clear. He knows Everett is looking at him and shame shatters his expression. Tears start to roll down Rush's face and he looks so exhausted. He wasn't allowed to sleep much, Everett knows. They'd shock him awake with one of their hellish pain sticks. It was a wonder Rush hadn't broken his own spine from arching up while bent and restrained like that.

He'd seen them smash Rush's head down hard against the table, causing him to black out for a while. Rush had opened his mouth the next time he was told to give a blow job, no hesitation at all.

One of the Alliance's men, Simeon, he thinks he's called, comes up to Rush. Camile tries to stand between them so Rush won't have to look at him, but he shoves her away. “I'll be back for you in a month, Kresh'ta,” he says. “And you know you'll enjoy it. Everyone saw you come all over yourself from being fucked. You liked being treated like a dirty whore, didn't you, sweetheart?”

He reaches out to grab Rush's dick, but TJ moves fast and stops him, her hand compressing his so hard he hears the bones crackle. “Kiva said he had a month to recover. Don't touch him.”

She shoves his hand away and Kiva says evenly, “You would disregard my orders, Simeon?”

Sullenly, he shakes his head and stalks away.

TJ goes back to helping Camile and finally Rush is able to lower his legs, close them. He trembles and whenever one of the women touch him he startles. He is filthy. Semen and piss and blood cover him, from his hair to his feet. Tears have made tracks on his face, and his hands are opening and closing, opening and closing. He is biting his lip and his eyes slide away from Everett's finally and close. He doesn't say anything. Everett's not sure he can make any sounds after all the screaming he had done. He is destroyed, devastated, and Everett is filled with a terrible, terrible pity and anger.

TJ says, “He won't be able to walk.” Everett comes out the trance he'd fallen into and steps forward, unzipping his jacket. “I'll carry him,” he says and pulls it off.

TJ and Camile help Rush to sit up, holding him in position. He obviously doesn't have the strength to do it himself. Everett clumsily fastens the jacket around Rush's waist, tying it tight with the jacket arms.

Varro raises his eyebrows and calls to Kiva, “Young's offered to carry him; I say let him get covered with Rush's dirt, rather than one of us.”

“Agreed,” Kiva says. “Take a detail along.” Her eyes rake him and Rush and she adds, “Our Kresh'ta's own clothes were destroyed and I see that Colonel Young has given his uniform jacket to him. He may keep it as a reminder that the Colonel, his own leader, also fucked him.”

The crudity of the word seems jarring when she says it. Everett grits his teeth. She's probably right, that the comfort he intends for Rush will be perverted into an ongoing torment.

TJ shoots him a look and Camile brushes her hand alongside his own. He gets the message. Don't show how much this is effecting him. Don't react to her words.

He can button it down. And he needs to do something to help Rush.

TJ says, “Take him to the infirmary,” and he nods. He steps closer to Rush, stoops down so that he's at eye level.

It's futile because Rush keeps his eyes closed.

He speaks quietly, hoping that Rush will understand him. “I'm going to touch you, okay? I'm not going to hurt you or do anything to you except carry you.” He clenches his fists, then, a new thought shaking him up; he might be the last person Rush wants to touch him. “But if you don't want me to, shake your head, or tell me 'no.'”

Rush doesn't react. Doesn't shake his head or whisper the word. Everett hopes that it won't make him even more miserable to be handled by one of his rapists, if that is even possible.

Varro is listening and he's frowning. “I suggest you stop talking, Colonel. For your own sake.”

He gets the message. Kiva won't take kindly to his showing any more compassion to Rush. Look at how she'd twisted his gesture to give Rush back some of his dignity. He'll stay quiet for now.

He stands back up, Camile giving him space, and puts his arm around Rush's back. He can feel the terrible tension in the muscles, feel Rush's trembling advance to shaking. “Put your arms around my neck,” he suggests, and he hopes for an argument, a denial that he needs any kind of help, fuck you very much, but Rush just obeys him quickly, even though it obviously hurts him to move his arms so fast.

Swallowing hard because seeing Rush being so compliant has brought home just how much the hell that he's experienced has effected him, Everett slides his arm under Rush's thighs and hefts him up high. Rush opens his eyes in startlement.

The expression on Rush's face as he sees that everyone is looking at him is heartbreaking and he apparently chooses the lesser of two evils because he buries his face in Everett's shoulder.

TJ leads the way. Kiva calls for Wray to join her and with an apologetic look, Wray turns to comply. Everett follows TJ, and Varro and three other men follow him.

They make a strange procession down Destiny's curved corridors; TJ still recovering from the gunshot wound in her upper arm, her belly more full and rounded every new day with his son or daughter. Himself carrying a man he once left for dead, and armed marauders bringing up their six, ready to shoot them all if they say or do the wrong thing.

It has been a week since the Lucians boarded Destiny. Varro told him that Rush had been confined to a room with nothing to eat and very little to drink for several days before he was brought struggling to the mess. He'd kicked and twisted and managed to headbutt one of the Lucians, but he didn't have a chance in hell of saving himself, poor bastard. Guns were held on the rest of them; if he'd yelled for his people to attack they'd have been massacred. Bitterly, he remembered the greater good philosophy Rush espoused and doubted that the man very much cared for it anymore.

Everett and the rest of the crew, civilian and military, were forced to watch as he was finally subdued and held spread-eagled on a table by four men who each outweighed him by probably seventy pounds. His shirts, those grimy T-shirts, were cut off him while a fifth Lucian, an olive-toned woman with her black hair in a high twist and proud of her skills with a knife, apparently, held a blade to Rush's neck. His boots and belt were claimed by two Lucians, and his jeans, which were beginning to fade and fray and wear thin at the knees, were cut into ribbons. His bare legs were streaked with blood from where he'd been nicked by the knife.

Kiva cut his boxers off. Kiva was the first to put her hands on Rush's privates. Kiva ordered him to be bent and chained so that his legs were pulled wide, so he was open and easy to penetrate.

Everett would very much like to choke the life out of Kiva.

He notices that his shoulder is damp and realizes that Rush has been silently crying against him since they left the mess.

“I'm sorry,” he says quietly. He takes a chance that he won't be overheard or if he is, not entirely understood. The Alliance know the man he's carrying as Nicholas Rush, so maybe they don't know the shortened form of his name. “Nick, I'm so god damn sorry about this. I'm sorry I had to do that to you. I figured you'd rather live than die, that's why I did it. So you would live.”

Against him Rush's tears continue to wet his shirt, and he wonders not for the first time if he'd made the right choice.

Maybe Rush preferred to die.

* * *

Before they arrive at the infirmary, Rush's body grows lax, and one arm slides down Everett's chest. The man has fallen asleep. Everett hopes he will be able to stay asleep while he is cleaned up. Rush is a mess, and he stinks. Not only did some of the Lucians empty their bladders on him, Rush had been forced to piss himself, to the catcalls and crude remarks of the Alliance assholes. As if anyone could keep from pissing for three days. Besides, after denying him water until he was desperate for it and willing to not bite the dicks that were thrust into his mouth, they practically drowned him with it, making him swallow so much that his stomach was bloated. Of course he couldn't hold that much for long.

Everett had spent many, many hours watching Rush on kino footage and he knows his expressions. He knows when Rush is lying, he knows when Rush is amused, he knows when Rush is upset. Rush is an open book to him, and what he read on Rush's face when his bladder won the battle of wills he'd been fighting with it was profound humiliation.

It was dark despair he'd seen on Rush's face the times when he became aroused and climaxed. Some of the Lucians had cackled with laughter, and David, damn him, had also brought Rush off. TJ would explain to Rush that just because he'd orgasmed didn't mean he actually enjoyed or consented to the rapes. Bodies could be triggered, Everett knew that. Truth to tell, he was surprised any arousal had occurred since Rush had been in such obvious pain the entire time, but maybe his pain and pleasure nerves had become crossed-wired. It wasn't his fault. Everett would have to check with his people and make sure they all understood that, and when they took the ship back he'd make damn sure the civilians knew it, too.

None of this is Rush's fault. None of it. He'd been doing what he could to regain the ship and save them. Everett regretted blowing up at him, that stupid argument they'd had in the control interface room, as they planned their strategy to defeat the invaders. Rush had only said the truth, that they might have casualties that couldn't be avoided, and Everett hadn't wanted to accept that any of the hostages or any of the civilians or military personnel might die because he hadn't vented the air immediately out of the gate room.

No, what happened to Rush was his fault and he hopes someday that Rush will forgive him for it.

When they enter the infirmary TJ directs him to a gurney hooked up to the bio-scanning Ancient monitors.

He carefully lays Rush down, straightens his arms and legs. Rush stays asleep. His hair was butchered by that little red-headed Lucian girl, and it's a hodge-podge of long and short strands. There is semen in it, and he knows some of the Lucians spit in his hair. TJ brings over a large basin of water and some rags, a spray bottle under her arm.

“It's the same stuff from the showers, just more concentrated,” she explains. She sits down the basin on the bedside table and looks him in the eye. “Sir, I've got this. You don't have to help.”

Glancing at Varro, he can tell the man is in no hurry to escort him back to the storage room turned holding cell. TJ follows his gaze and her expression hardens. Varro had shoved her out of the way when bullets were being sprayed where she'd treated the Lucian wounded. She'd still been hurt, but he'd saved her life. TJ had softened towards him because of that, and Varro is smitten with her. Everett can tell.

Seeing Varro rape Rush had been a gamechanger for her, judging by the expression on her face.

Everett just takes one of the rags from her hands, and says, “I'll clean him up. You've been on your feet way too long, so, go, rest. Unless he needs medical attention first?”

She glances at the reading from the bio-scanners attached to the gurney and shakes her head. “I'll need to check him for tears, maybe do stitches on some of those cuts, clean and bandage others, but it can wait until he's not covered in all of that. If he wakes up, he's probably going to be frantic to be clean again.” Her eyes are sad, and she blinks hard. TJ has always felt for her patients, probably much more than is wise. Rush is no exception. He often has exasperated her, she's told Everett, but when he's been here because of exhaustion and passing out, or from the surgery to remove the Nakai tracker, or from the consequences of sitting in the neural interface chair, she's done her best to take care of him. She'd been so worried about infection from the surgery, concerned his heart was permanently damaged after sitting in the chair.

Taking the spray bottle from her he starts on Rush's torso, spraying the solution and then wiping him clean with a rag. “Go. I'll take care of him.”

She ends up sitting on a gurney across from them. Varro steps close to talk to her but her eyes blaze and he holds up his hands and retreats back to where their guards are watching them, weapons in hand.

He works carefully, methodically, being as gentle and as unobtrusive as he can be as he sets into a rhythm of cleaning and then rinsing out the rags in the water. Rush is bruised, fist sized dark marks and reddish-purple places where hard fingers have held him down, pinched him, damaging skin and muscles.

Everett frees him from the sticky sheen of sweat, blood, dirt, semen, tears, spit, and piss that has covered his front and face. Finally, he gently unties his jacket and removes it. There are several light blankets at the foot of the gurney and he covers up Rush's legs and chest with them. He cleans Rush's genitals and thighs, and moves his legs apart so he can clean between them. His rag comes away with fresh blood, and he takes the remaining clean rag and folds it into a small square and presses it against Rush's anus. He's sure that TJ probably will have to do stitches inside him.

I did that, he thinks bleakly. He'd tried not to think at all while he was fucking Rush, but instead he'd found himself remembering Rush at various times, how his hair had felt under his hand when he'd ruffled it that one time, the way he'd worn his belt slung low on his hips, the way he'd play with a marker, holding it in his mouth while he wrote on the whiteboard back at Incarus.

He'd come inside Rush, and David, busily fucking Rush's mouth and jerking him off, had known. They'd shared a look of acknowledgment, hard men having to do fucking hard things that were distasteful and wrong but necessary. David had to maintain his cover as one of the Lucians. He was Everett's ace in the hole, his secret weapon. David had fucked Rush more than once to prove his credentials and for now, his cover was safe.

He turns Rush onto his side and finishes wiping him clean. He smells only of the herbal scent of the cleaning solution now, except for his hair. Everett covers him with both blankets while he washes the mangled mess. Someone with better hair styling skills than his will have to trim it for Rush.

Rush's skin is badly cut under his beard, and his beard is red with blood despite already wiping him clean once already. He might need to be shaved in order for TJ to treat him, and possibly stitch the cut.

He turns to look at TJ. She's lying down on her side, her feet up on the gurney, but she's watching him, and gets up from the gurney.

She takes over then, examining Rush, rubbing an oil scented with leaves from several planets ago into his skin where the bruises are showing, or she feels the heat of them rising. She bandages some of the cuts, leaving others to heal open to the air. Where the chains had restrained him, the skin is abraded and raw looking. She gently dabs something on the damaged skin and wraps one of her homemade cloth bandages around his thighs and arms.

TJ shaves Rush, who still has not woken up. It's a blessing, Everett thinks, but the rest of what she needs to do is going to be painful and he doubts that Rush can sleep through that.

He needn't have worried because TJ injects him with another of her homemade drugs and while his eyes open for a moment in confusion and incoherence, they close again.

“Colonel,” she says. “You don't have to stay.” She holds a suture kit. He shakes his head. Rush won't know he's here, but he wants to be be present, at least. He slides a hand into one of Rush's.

Rush doesn't grip his hand back, of course. Still, Everett hangs on to him as TJ stitches the ugly cut on his cheek. “I think this was made by a ring, originally,” she says. “It's still oozing blood, it must have been aggravated since it didn't start to heal.”

Dannic's ring probably. He had been next in line after Kiva was through and he'd hit Rush about the head until he was dazed and limp. Everett wishes he could beat the bald-headed bastard down, and he worries for his scientists. From what he'd been told by Rush, Dannic would kill the Lucian Alliance's own scientists if he thought they weren't constantly successful at their duties. He fears for the Science Team and the other scientists in his crew.

They have to retake the ship.

TJ stitches a cut on Rush's thigh, and one on his bicep. Then she lifts the blanket off his legs and says, “Help me scoot him down.” He does so as gently as he can, and Rush is limp and lax still when TJ straps his legs into metal extensions from the gurney. Stirrups, he supposes. Emily called them that when she would mention seeing the doctor. TJ says apologetically, “I have to fasten him into them. Unconscious like this, his legs won't stay otherwise.”

She changes the gloves on her hand for a fresh one, and Everett grips Rush's hand tightly again when she puts her fingers inside of Rush, feeling for the damage. When she pulls them free, they're wet with blood and glistening with other fluids. He shudders a little, and TJ catches that.

“It wasn't your fault, Colonel. You were coerced. That's rape, too.”

“I don't feel like a victim,” he whispers, not wanting Varro and his men to hear him. “I feel like a god damned rapist.”

“You're not, sir,” she whispers back. “She would have killed him, you know she would have. She's a sociopath, not just a woman fighting for her cause, for her people. She's very, very, dangerous. You did it for us, because if you hadn't agreed to join in with the Lucians, she'd have killed him, and she'd have found some way to punish the rest of the crew. Ru-- he'll understand that.”

“Will he?” he asks doubtfully and strokes Rush's hair away from his forehead and eyes. It was always falling in his eyes and Everett's hands usually did itch to push it away, to tidy him up a little. Rush was usually a hot mess, something Chloe had called him once. A hot mess. It had suited Rush, he'd thought at the time, and he frequently tagged him with that term in his head.

Rush would have flayed him alive if he'd ever said it out loud to him.

TJ puts something else into Rush that spreads his internal walls wider. She uses a light so she can see inside him and stitches him up, treats him with an antibiotic ointment. He grips Rush's hand, smaller than his own, his fingers thin and agile. He doesn't care if Varro and his men see him.

Finally, she is done. Quietly she asks him to pick Rush up so she can change the bedding on the gurney.

He scoops Rush back into his arms and she does what she needs to do. “I'm sorry,” he whispers to Rush again, as he places him down on clean sheets and covers him with the blankets.

But Rush doesn't hear him.

Varro takes him back to where the military has been stashed since surrendering, his expression pensive. TJ has given him the cold shoulder again before they left.

Everett thinks he deserves TJ's disdain. Sure, he probably would have been given some sort of punishment, too, if he'd declined that little bonding experience from torturing Rush, but he joined Kiva's crew, worked his way up the ranks. He could have gotten out. The man knows English, he'd been undercover on Earth; he chose to stay with the Alliance.

Everett steps inside the storage area that is filled with his people. Marines, Airmen. Good people, he thinks, as the Alliance soldiers with their weapons step back, and the door cycles closed and locks.

Matthew steps up to him. “Sir,” he says, “How's Rush?”

“Asleep,” he says, but what he means is drugged into unconsciousness.

“Is he okay?” Matthew is a fine young man in most ways, although his handling of his affair with James was botched. Everett lives in a glass house, though, and he won't be throwing any stones.

Greer hears the question and steps closer. James does, too.

“Sir,” Matthew repeats. “Is Rush going to be okay?”

He shakes his head. “I have no idea, Lieutenant. No idea at all.”

* * *

Chapter 2: Dinn

Rush knows he's dreaming, but he can't stop it; he has to endure being bound helpless on a table and people with no faces are hitting him, or pinching him or biting him, and his mouth and his arse are being invaded by fingers and cocks. There's a voice crooning to him as his own hard penis is stroked. “You like this, you do. See?” and he feels himself orgasm. “See, this is who you really are. Just a toy. They're going to have such fun playing with you. Everyone will see. Everyone will know. They won't forget.” With horror he realizes it's his own voice he's hearing.

He wakes up screaming, a hoarse sound that shocks him with the terror he hears in it. His voice is raw and wretched and he feels his stomach heave. He tries to sit up, but he can't, his muscles are like water, and then he's choking up bile. He's going to foul himself with vomit, with the leavings of his tormentors' semen, and it's no more than he deserves.

A strong arm pulls him up and a basin is put under his chin and he empties himself into it. The waves cramp his belly again and again as he remembers his dream, and then remembers that his dream was based on reality and that he has been shamed over and over again in front of his crew and the men and women who have taken his ship.

He looks down, deliberately avoiding looking at the person who is helping him. He can see that he's in the infirmary, on a gurney, and knows he's naked under the blankets. They took his clothes, ruined them or gave them away. The belt that Gloria had bought for his birthday, before the cancer returned, some Alliance bastard has it now. He hears voices and he can't bear to see who it is, who's here watching him like this. He just can't. Can't face them. Can't face anyone. He wishes they had let him die.

Tears escape his eyes and then sobs, and he's reduced to dry heaves. He is shamed all over again that he can't control himself, vomiting and crying like this. Just like he couldn't control himself from shooting his spunk all over his belly from what they did to him. Or from pissing himself like a baby. He covers his face with his hands and while he tells himself to shut up, to be a man, the tears won't stop. He's still held captive by the emotions from the nightmare, from what happened on the table, from knowing that people are seeing him like this. They will always see him like he was on that table.

He shuts his eyes, so he doesn't see the basin taken away, or see the hands that pull away his own shaking ones from his face or the cloth that wipes his face free of tears and snot.

He does recognize the voice of Lieutenant Johansen when she asks him if needs a urinal. He nods his head, still keeping his eyes shut, crying more tears, those endless rivers of his misery and she puts a container in his hands.

He just holds it. He feels paralyzed, unsure of doing even this simple thing without an order, a command.

“Doc--”

There is a warning sound from someone else in the room.

“You don't have to call him anything, but you can't use his name. Someone will report it to Kiva if you do and she will see it as defiance. You don't want to see again how Kiva handles defiance, Tamara.” It's a male voice, with a subtle accent that tells him the man is one of the Lucians.

“Varro...”

“I'm not going to turn you in. But if you slip up in front of most of the others, then not only will you be punished but Kresh'ta will also. Look at him. If she puts him back on the table then he'll crack like a Mella egg and go insane. He's fractured now.”

“Hey, buddy,” the Lieutenant says awkwardly and he feels her hand on his back, but Varro interrupts her.

“No endearments. At least, no Tau'ri ones.”

He hears heavy footsteps coming closer and draws his legs up to his chest. He still can't bear to open his eyes. He covers his mouth with the hand that isn't holding the urinal, trying to stifle the sobs that keep escaping.

“We have a creature on my world, shy, timid, very small. It hides mostly, but if it's caught in a trap it cries. You see, it's the tears that make people hunt it. They taste exquisite. It's an intelligent little thing, smart enough to keep itself safe from most predators. If you can't make yourself call him by the name Kiva gave him, then call him Dinn. Kiva will not mind; she will be amused.”

A fist cuffs him gently above his ear. The blanket is pulled back to expose his nakedness. “Dinn,” Varro says. “Open your eyes and use the urinal. Now.”

He obeys, his face flushing, knowing this man who raped him is watching as he fills it. Lieutenant Johansen takes it from him when he is finished.

“Are you in pain?” she asks, after pulling his blankets up around him.

He looks away and nods, wipes the tears off his face again. He hurts where they forced themselves. His muscles are so sore, and there are bruises on his skin, a cut on his face. He has a bad headache. He remembers one of them slamming his head into the table over and over when he wouldn't open his mouth for the man's cock.

She shines a light in his eyes, takes his blood pressure, holds her fingers against his wrist. He's not sure why. The gurney has Ancient bio-tech; the monitors will tell her his status.

“I want you to drink some water, and try to eat something,” she says, sounding kind, and he knows he doesn't deserve that from her. But he will do as she says, even if he chokes it down. Just the thought of disobedience engulfs him in terror, even though he knows she wouldn't do to him what they did. But they might find out if he refuses and punish him, so better to comply.

He feels a bubble of hysterical laughter rising within him. Colonel Young has wanted his obedience since he'd met the man; now he knows how to compel it from him. From Dinn. From Kresh'ta. Doctor Nicholas Rush died on that table in the mess. He exerts herculean control over himself and forces the laughter back down and locks it away.

Colonel Young had raped him out of kindness. The irony of it doesn't escape him. He doesn't remember much about leaving the mess, but he knows the Colonel wrapped him in his own jacket and carried him out. He'd seen pity and fascination in the crews' eyes from seeing him destroyed, and amusement, avarice, and cruelty from the Lucians. He remembers Kiva's cool, thoughtful gaze, and he knows he is only a pawn on her chessboard. Young's eyes had bored holes into him, but he couldn't decipher what message the Colonel was sending to him and he hadn't been able to look away. We'll never be done he'd said to the Colonel, before the man had beat him into unconsciousness on a far away planet of heat and rocks. We'll never be done, We'll never be done, We'll never be done he screams in his head, not now, not after they'd been joined together like two dogs in heat.

The Colonel will be killed soon, or abandoned on a planet like Rush had been left. But even when the Colonel is off the ship for good, the feel of his hands, of his dick, was going to always, always be with him.

He knows the Colonel had been forced to rape him or watch Kiva finally kill him. He knows the Colonel sullied himself to save him. He remembers Young's whispered words of apology and he is torn between believing the man meant them and a dark thought that he fucked him, raped him, to teach him a lesson for hiding the gun, the work around he'd done so he could finally do some useful work with the neural interface chair.

It still feels like a betrayal of the agreement they'd tacitly come to after his and Camile's little attempt at mutiny. He, Doctor Nicholas Rush, would work with and cooperate with the Colonel, and in return, the Colonel will let him stay on Destiny and will protect him as he would protect any of his crew. He'd begun to trust the man, even knowing that the Colonel was fighting off his own demons and was not the ideal leader for this mission. He didn't know exactly why the Ancients had sent Destiny out among the stars, the galaxies, but the ship most certainly had a mission of great importance to do. A mission that deserved the best from all of them, and Colonel Young had never given his best to Destiny. He'd given enough to get by on, though, and Rush had hopes that once he discovered Destiny's true mission, the Colonel might really commit to it. The man had joined Stargate Command, hadn't he? Somewhere within him might be the desire to know, to find out, just like that desire was in himself. Or it had been. It felt like it had died on that table, too.

The Colonel had raped him right along with those other bastards, and it had been the final blow to shatter him, that betrayal of their agreement. He'd felt all resistance evaporate away, and he'll never get it back. He'll do what anyone, anyone, Lucian or the crew, asks of him, anything, to keep from being put back on that table. Work for the Alliance, let Volker run the science team, anything. He can't trust anyone anymore at all. The crew was made to watch him be fucked like that as a lesson to them to not cross any lines Kiva has drawn. They could inform her of his noncompliance, if he doesn't obey them, too. He can't trust any of them. Not even Lieutenant Johansen, or Chloe, or Camile.

He thinks that Varro nicknamed him well. He feels small, and scared, and he will hide away as best he can.

He eats the protein paste, drinks the water. He does everything Lieutenant Johansen asks him to do, as she checks on his injuries. Varro watches her, but shows only indifference to him. He is grateful to be ignored. He is grateful to be clean again. He is grateful not to have a dick rammed down his sore throat or to have fingers shoved up into him.

The Lieutenant steps close to him, heavy with the baby that he's heard is the Colonel's, and that hysterical laughter wants to break free again, knowing that both of them have been on the receiving end of the Colonel's dick. He smothers it; laughing like that would bring unwanted attention to himself.

She wouldn't appreciate his observation, if he shared it, and her displeasure would surely cause Varro to teach him another lesson. He may not be able to stop himself from crying, but he can stop himself from talking.

It will be safer for him that way.

She hands him a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, things he has seen the crew wear when running around the ship in Lieutenant Scott's civilian exercise class, and helps him to dress. She explains that he should practice tightening internal muscles he's never given much thought to before three days ago. She tells him, her eyes warm and concerned, that he's recovering from a mild to moderate concussion as well as everything else that injured him. She tells him that tomorrow she will see if he can stand up. Then she gives him a green-colored brew that smells of mint and something foul and he drinks it. He doesn't ask why she gave it to him or what it will do. He hasn't said anything since he woke up; he doesn't think he can even if he hadn't decided silence was a good strategy. Words are stuck in his throat and cannot pass into the air.

When he's choked the noxious drink down, she tells him to lie down, that the medicine will help with the pain and his headache and it will help him to sleep. He doesn't want to do that. He's afraid of his dreams, of being back on the table.

Once he would have staggered out of the infirmary, would have buried himself in work, dismissing the medic's concerns. Once he would have avoided sleeping for as long as he could.

Once.

Now he collapses back against the gurney and shuts his eyes. A man who's raped him is in this room, and his heart beats too fast, his breath is too shallow. If Varro wants to do it again, he can't stop him.

Dinn can not stop him.

The Lucians have won. They will most likely kill the military on board, and the useless civilians. He must remain useful to them because maybe, possibly, hopefully, there is a way he can escape. He can make his way to the chair and let Destiny take him into the ship. He thinks that's what happened to Franklin, and there is some data to back that theory. A massive program he hadn't seen before the day Franklin sat in the chair for the second time, but he'd hesitated to share his thoughts with Young until he knew for sure.

Maybe then he can help whoever is still alive to be freed of Kiva and her soldiers. As he is now, he can't even look them in the eyes.

It comforts him, to think of being code. Like that, with his body subsumed by Destiny, they can't harm him again.

He pictures it over and over, sitting in the chair without the buffering program he'd devised, of feeling the heavy press of too much information expanding his mind, of asking Destiny to save him, until all thoughts fade away and he sleeps.

* * *

 

Before Lieutenant Johansen releases him from the infirmary two days later, Kiva pays him a visit.

She makes him walk around the room, assessing him. She purses her lips at how he has to hold onto the walls or the equipment to hobble from one spot to the other before she tells Varro, Lieutenant Johansen's constant companion/guard, to boost him back up on a gurney.

He stiffens when Varro touches him, lifts him so easily. He is trapped between them, Kiva and Varro, like the small creature Varro named him, but he clamps down hard inside himself, so they do not get to have his tears. Kiva would lick them from his eyes, he fears.

She hands him a tablet with a problem on it, and he can see it has to do with the power relay stations. He suspects the radiation from the binary star has something to do with the reduction in efficiency that's he's analyzing from the data.

“Solve this,” she orders, and he nods, avoiding looking at her.

He sends himself away, to a place where there is only numbers and algorithms and parsing out solutions in a mathematical format. Numbers are safe; they do not judge him, they do not look at him with pity or with malevolence.

When he is finished, he slides the tablet to her waiting hands, eyes down. His feet are bare. There are no shoes or boots that have been given to him. Camile has asked for them, but was told by Kiva that Kresh'ta had no need of any footgear. If they required him to go off world, only then would he be given boots for the trip from the surplus uniforms they used for their gate missions.

Everything Kiva has orchestrated has been about stripping him of power. Even in this, not allowing him to have shoes.

He knows this. He understands Kiva, her goals, her strategies.

It doesn't help, knowing why she has ordered these things done to him. He is a lost soul, lost to himself, and knowing the path into the dark forest of his emotions doesn't mean he can find a way out again.

Kiva beckons the young woman with the long red hair, dressed in the leathers the Lucians adore, to come to her from where she had been quietly standing by the door. She hands the girl the tablet and orders her to check his work.

The girl does so, her lips moving in silent concentration as she examines his solution. He watches her, with quick sideways glances.

“Well,” Kiva asks, impatient. “Has our Kresh'ta found the answer?”

“Yes, I think so,” she says, carefully, and he hears fear in her voice. He has seen Kiva allow a scientist to be strangled in front of him, one of the first lessons she taught him in compliance and usefulness before they gated to Destiny. This girl, one of the ones who abused him, probably has reason to believe she also could die at Kiva's whim.

He does not hate this girl, but only because he is too afraid to hate. If he lets himself feel that powerful emotion it will be an act of defiance; if he hates them for what they've done to him then they will be able to tell and they will act to quell his rebellion.

He can not go back to that table. He prayed while he was on it, that alter to depravity. Prayed for ascension, that he would leave this plane of existence. He can't remember who he prayed to, but it was futile. No higher power helped him; no advanced aliens heard his screaming. His genetics did not mutate allowing him to escape by becoming pure energy. God, who Caine and Gloria and Lieutenant Scott all believed in, did nothing. He prayed that the Nakai would board the ship and take him back with them. They, too, invaded his body and they invaded his mind, but they did not destroy his soul like Kiva has done.

“I have learned what I wished to know,” Kiva says. “You, Kresh'ta, will work with Ginn. The other scientists as well, but Ginn will be my eyes and ears. Obey her as you would me.”

He nods, eyes still down.

“Ginn,” Kiva says. He looks up through the hair that has fallen over his eyes, a curtain to hide behind. He watches Kiva hand Ginn the tablet. The girl makes a slight bow towards Kiva, her body language submissive.

“See that this problem is resolved quickly. I will have Kresh'ta brought to you in the control interface room.”

“Yes, Commander,” Ginn says quickly and scurries from the room.

Kiva turns to him and he hunches his shoulders, looks downward. He doesn't do it on purpose and that knowledge that his body shows his submission to her so readily fills him with despair. He supposes he's lucky he's not pissing himself right now, or showing her his belly, like some small scared dog.

Kiva grasps his chin, brings his face up, and steps as close to him as the gurney will allow, causing him to open his bare legs wide to accommodate her.

She runs a finger across his cheek and frowns. “Shave daily.”

He nods slightly. She frowns again and turns to shoot a displeased look at Lieutenant Johansen. “Can he talk?”

“His vocal cords are damaged from all the screaming. I've given him orders to be silent and not aggravate them while they heal,” Lieutenant Johansen says, and she's lying to Kiva. She hasn't said one bloody word to him about his inability or unwillingness to talk. He feels a wave of gratitude along with a paralyzing fear that Kiva will know the lieutenant has lied to her face and will punish her.

“Very well,” Kiva says. “Bring me a comb and a sharp pair of scissors.”

Kiva cuts his hair, running her hands through it, yanking through tangles with the comb. She stands between his legs, her hands sometimes resting on his thighs, or on on the shorts he wears, and he can feel her breath, spicy with the tea Becker makes; she brings the scissors close to his throat, to his eyes, as she trims the mess into something shorter and neater that he can not hide behind.

His heart is pounding and he's trying to control his breathing so he doesn't have a damn panic attack. He doesn't move a muscle unless she tells him to turn his head to the side or to look down. She doesn't ask his opinion on how short to cut it or ask him if he wants to look in the mirror.

She gives the scissors back to Lieutenant Johansen and puts her hand on the T-shirt he's wearing, over his heart, smiling when she feels how hard it's beating.

“Will he make an attempt to kill himself?” Kiva asks, moving her hand back to his chin and forcing him to look her in the eyes.

“He might. Precautions should be taken. He shouldn't be left alone or with the means to hurt himself. Camile Wray has offered him counseling.”

Camile and Lieutenant Johansen have tried to talk to him several times over the last few days. They have told him that what happened wasn't his fault, that rape is about power, not sex, that the orgasms wrung from his body had also not been his fault, that bodies, nerves can be stimulated without consent. That he has experienced a severe trauma, and that nightmares, and possibly flashbacks, are something he'll probably keep experiencing as he comes to terms with what was done to him. That talking about it will be helpful. He did nothing wrong to bring this on himself.

It all feels like lies to him.

Kiva looks from Lieutenant Johansen back to him, her eyes narrowed, before returning her attention to the Lieutenant. She says brusquely, “No counseling. You may see him daily to check his injuries, but he returns to work this afternoon. I will assign a guard to collect him. He'll stay with the military prisoners at night until he is no longer a suicide risk.”

He dreads walking into that makeshift cell full of Airmen and Marines. Greer. Scott. Dunning. James. Barnes. Becker. Riley. Destiny's military will stare at him. Ask him questions. Smirk at him, remembering how he looked while he was Kiva's playtoy. He swallows down the lump that's formed in his throat. He'll see Young.

“He's been having trouble sleeping. I'd like him to take some medication at night to help with that and with the pain he's still having,” Lieutenant Johansen says evenly.

“Agreed. I won't allow his ability to work to be affected by poor sleep. Make up the medicine; Koz will take care of administering it.” Kiva says and steps back. He lets his gaze drop downward in profound relief.

She leaves then, and Lieutenant Johansen helps him brush the hairs off his shirt. It itches where some have fallen on his neck and under his shirt, and on his legs. When one of the Lucians arrives to take him to the control interface room, she has a brief, quiet conversation with the friendly looking man before introducing them.

“This is Koz. He helped me treat the wounded; I've asked him to let you go to the shower room first, but you can say no. He's given me his word that he won't harm you or touch you.”

He won't say no.

They leave, after he shaves with the electric razor she gives him, and it's a very slow walk to the shower room and he uses the corridor walls to lean against at times.

He has clothes in a bag with him to change into after washing himself. Lieutenant Johansen altered the boxers that once belonged to Franklin and the soft legwear that's like Chloe's. Yoga pants, Lieutenant Johansen called them. They belonged to Andrea Palmer, before she went through that first planet gate and was lost. Now he wishes he had gone with her. The Lieutenant talked quietly about her father and the skills he taught her as the needle flashed in her hand, piercing the clothing over and over. Fucking it, he thought, watching her, and wonders if he will see everything in sexual terms now.

He wants to be clean. He can't stand to feel dirty. The man with him will do what he wants and nothing he can say will change that, so he will go with him to the showers where he will be naked and this man might see him or touch him. He shudders. He wants to feel clean, even with that risk.

The memory of how filthy he was hits him and he shudders again. Koz notices.

“Dinn? What's wrong?”

He wants to laugh at that question, but he stifles the impulse. He makes a hand gesture indicating he's fine, and keeps on walking until he's in the outer room of the showers, where there are benches to sit upon and hooks for clothing and a stack of towels and a bin for wet ones.

Koz stares at him when he takes off Colonel Young's jacket. Lieutenant Johansen washed his stink off it before giving it back to him. Kiva wants him to wear it, so he will.

He hangs up the jacket, because while he is careless with his own clothes, usually just tossing them on the nearest chair or on the floor, the Colonel strikes him as a man who has been trained to carefully fold his clothing into neat stacks of organization or to hang them up in precise formation.

Kiva thought it would torment him to wear Young's jacket, but it doesn't. It's not the symbol of rape that she expected it would be; it's a symbol of Young's kindness instead, so he will be careful with it.

Koz is still watching him, though, so he picks up a towel, still dressed in the T-shirt and shorts he's been wearing for days now, and tries to step into the shower enclosure. Koz moves in front of him and takes the towel out of his hands.

“No,” Koz says. “Take your clothes off out here.”

He obeys. He feels the blood drain from his face, feels light-headed, but he obeys. He pulls the shirt over his head, dropping it. Koz moves closer, examines him.

“Your medic has taken good care of you,” Koz says. “Well, our medic now. As Kiva has said, your crew will join us, willing or not, and together we will work to solve the mystery of the Ninth Chevron. Finish, please,” he says, with a small tug at Rush's shorts.

Pulling down his shorts before Koz does it for him, he slides them free of his body and Koz says, “Wait,” before he can step away into the shower.

He starts to tremble, feels tears start to rise again, but he doesn't move. Koz looks him up and down, but it's not because he wants to see for himself how the healing is progressing because Koz makes a hum of appreciation, and it's predatory, not clinical.

“You are a pretty man, Dinn. Kiva has said you can be claimed again in a month, and her word is good. It won't be like the last time, not with me. I'll be gentle when I fuck you; you'll like it.”

He squeezes his eyes shut; he will not cry, he will not cry, he will not cry.

The towel is pushed against him and he opens his eyes. “Hurry now. You walk too slowly. If you can't go faster when we leave, then I'll carry you.”

He hurries as he washes himself, hurries to dress himself under Koz's gaze, and pushes himself to go faster as he stumbles to the control interface room.

He is already exhausted when he enters the room and sees the Science Team there at various monitors. Eli. Park, Brody. Volker.

Volker sees him first, his eyes widening. The man blushes a furious red, and he rubs the back of his neck, looking away.

Rush stumbles to a monitor and stands in front of it. His hands are shaking and he tucks them under his arms. Volker will never again see him as a scientist, but as the Alliance's fucktoy, bent double on that table and begging for a cock in his mouth in exchange for food and water.

He feels nauseous, but after staring at the displays and doing calculations in his head for a while it goes away. Brody ignores him, for which he is grateful. Park keeps shooting him horrified looks of pity, and Eli looks angry. More than once, Eli looks like he wants to say something, to him, to the guards, to the red-headed girl, Ginn. Brody catches Eli's eyes frequently, shakes his head.

Volker's gaze keeps darting back to him, and the man flushes each time, shifts uncomfortably. He wonders if Volker wants to fuck him. Take revenge for the way Rush has thrown disdain at him for his wandering attention, his stupid jokes with Brody, for his inability to be precise, and his reluctance to stand up to Rush.

He must, Rush thinks. Volker must be picturing his own cock stabbing into Rush, forcing out cries and screams and whimpers. It makes him feel dead inside.

It's a relief when the others on his team have gone with the guards to the mess for the evening meal. They have left him with Ginn, who has assured the other Lucians that she can handle Kresh'ta.

She touches her pistol, and gives a nervous laugh of assent when one of the guards says to just shoot Dinn in the leg if he tries to escape. It's ludicrous, of course. He can barely shift from one foot to the other, he's so stiff, and it is painful to sit on the monitor stool.

He checks the power flow rates for stations eight and ten, loses himself in maths again. He startles when sometime later the girl steps next to him.

Keeping his eyes focused on the monitor, he hardly dares to breath. He doesn't look at her. He remembers what she did on that first day in the mess, how she made him lick the sticky paste off her fingers. He'd been so hungry after the previous days with no food.

She'd done things with her other hand, breached him, to the orders of that bald headed Lucian.

She'd hacked at his hair with a knife. The inappropriate laughter wants to come out of hiding again. He wonders if she likes how Kiva tidied up her mess.

In a whisper, she says, “Doctor Rush?”

Is this a trap? Is she trying to earn him more punishment by reporting him responding to his forbidden name? He starts to panic, grips the console, and he can't get enough air.

“Oh,” she says. “No, please. I'll call you Dinn, please don't get upset,” she whispers still.

He begins to calculate Pi, to see how many decimal places he can string in his mind. He doesn't realize he's softly muttering his calculations until the girl continues saying numbers when he falters finally. His trick has worked though; his breathing is more controlled, his heart doesn't feel like it will burst free from his chest.

She stops and takes a deep breath. “Dinn, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what I did to you. What we all did to you. I was afraid. You don't know. You don't know what they will do if you don't...” she swallows hard and bites her lip.

He thinks that he does know. But she's not talking about him; she's talking about herself. He stays silent and still. A good listener, he mocks to himself. How many people have pointed out to him how lacking he was in that particular social skill? But now, he will listen. He will pay attention. His life might depend on it.

The lass hugs herself. She says, “It doesn't excuse me, I know. But I didn't want to do those things. Dannic, he hates the scientists, and he thinks I'm suspect because the Alliance took me from my home. I didn't join willingly. He looks for reasons to get rid of me. I'm sorry. I heard how you resisted the pain sticks when Kiva took you from Earth. I could tell you were defying her, at the base. I was reviewing your work and I said nothing. I didn't tell her you were stalling still. I hoped that maybe the Tau'ri would find you and I could ask for asylum.”

She takes in a shuddery breath.”I'm sorry. I thought you could withstand it when Kiva made you an example. I didn't know she would make you stay there for days. And, and, there's something you should know. You couldn't help it, when you--”

Suddenly she steps away.

From the corner of his eye he sees her studying the monitor nearest to him, and then there are other people in the room again. Eli, and guards and other Lucians who take places at the monitors. Their scientists, he supposes.

Eli is carrying something as he approaches and stands next to him. He doesn't ask Eli what new contraption he's designed. What the lass said to him has thrown him into turmoil, and he's fighting so hard to keep his face blank. Does he believe her? Does it matter? She did those things to him, made him humiliate himself, made him lick her fingers like he was her pet. Would he do those same things to someone else if Kiva put them on the table, to keep himself safe?

Before this week he would have said no. Now, he knows he would. He is not the person he thought he was, that Gloria thought he was, that Mandy thinks he is. He is weak.

“Hey,” Eli says. He wants to step away. Eli is too close. He never paid attention to Eli's build before, aside from thinking the boy could stand to lose a few pounds. He is excruciatingly aware now that Eli is a good bit taller than him and built more broadly.

He knows that he can't win a fight against Colonel Young, who's twice his size even if he's not that much taller. He learned that lesson on the planet Young left him on. He's never considered how it might end if he and Eli were to scrabble around like he and Greer have done. But now, especially now, with his body so weak, Eli could pin him down and hurt him. Take him, if he wanted to.

Eli doesn't want him that way, he knows that. He thinks he knows that. He doesn't know anymore. He swallows down his anxiety. He has to focus, be useful. Not be noticed because he's throwing up or crying in hysterics.

“Hey... Dinn?” Eli says, when he doesn't respond to the boy's first greeting.

He glances once at Eli and boy's face tightens. “Camile told us you were having trouble walking. We made you something to help you get around. And by we, I mean Brody and Park and me. It's sort of like the kino sleds, only more like a scooter.”

Eli rights the scooter and flicks on the kino remote strapped to the handles. “See. Just start it up and step on.” He places both feet on the thing. “And then you can make it go as high as you want and forwards or backwards. Watch.”

Eli rides his invention around the control interface room, switching from a few centimeters off the floor to half a meter.

He can't picture himself riding it, flitting around like that.

As it turns out, when Kiva walks into the room and Eli almost bowls her over as he's demonstrating how it can go backwards, Kiva can't picture it either.

“No,” she says, after Eli has been grabbed by the guards and hauled off his invention and he's stumbled out an explanation. “Mr. Wallace, find better uses for your ingenuity. Kresh'ta will walk, or he will crawl, or if he can do neither, he can beg to be carried.”

Let the humiliation continue, he thinks. Being carried would just reinforce how helpless he feels. The shaking that never truly leaves him ramps up, so that it must be obvious to everyone.

“Kresh'ta,” she says to him, coming over and grabbing his chin again so he's forced to look at her. “Or I hear Varro has given you another name.” She smiles, but it doesn't make the corners of her eyes crinkle in genuine amusement. “Do you prefer “Dinn?”

He can not lie to her. He nods slightly. “I will allow it, as long as you are...” she lets go of his chin, runs a finger along his jaw. “Good.”

“Ginn,” she says, turning abruptly to the girl. “Has he been good?”

“Yes, Commander,” she says rapidly. “He's found and fixed problems with four of the stations. Efficiency is up thirty percent because of his work.”

“Then, Dinn, continue,” she orders, and strides out of the room.

Eli parks the scooter, and crosses his arms, that tight look on his face again. He tells Ginn that he's going to stick around and finds a console to work at, and it is quiet as the Lucian scientists and Eli and he run diagnostics on the ship's systems.

He notes that all system interactions are restricted to the control interface room; there's no way to use a console in a different lab to steal control away as he did during the mutiny and when he was trying to stop these invaders from taking his ship.

Hours pass, and he is so exhausted. But he feels incapable of asserting himself, of announcing that his shift is over and he's going to bed. It requires all his courage to just indicate he's taking bathroom breaks.

Varro radios, but he doesn't track what is being said. At this point the flickering numbers and Ancient language are meaningless to him. He's slipping into a daze. Not even the increasing ache of his muscles and his other unspeakable pain keeps him feeling alert. His knees buckle when he abruptly drops into REM sleep.

The sensation of falling wakes him and he stumbles before regaining his balance. He leans as much against the console as he can.

“Drink this,” he's ordered, and Koz is holding a bottle under his nose. He didn't notice the man even entering the room. “You're to go to the prisoner's quarters now.”

He obeys, drinking down the potion he's had every night since waking up that first time in the infirmary. It will start to work very soon. He hopes that the medicine dulls the pain so he can walk more rapidly to the storage room turned holding cell before sliding him into unconsciousness.

He hands the bottle back and shuts down his console. He lurches toward the wall so he can use it for support, but his traitorous muscles stop working and he ends up on the floor. He tries to get back up, but after two attempts he concedes defeat.

He begins crawling towards the door. Kiva is efficient; Koz will know of her recent orders regarding his methods of locomotion.

A pair of running shoes block his way, and Eli crouches down. “What's that?” the boy says loudly. “You're begging me to carry you?”

Eli hauls him upwards, and swings him up into his arms. “If you can, hang on to my neck,” Eli says quietly, and he obeys. Eli follows Koz out of the room.

He closes his eyes. He is so tired, and that wicked green brew is impossible to resist. He's torn between wanting to twist free from being held against another body and just accepting the comfort Eli's offering. Some mentor he's turned out to be, with the student taking charge like this. But, if he has to be carried, he prefers Eli over Koz. It's not quite as humiliating as he'd imagined, with Eli, but he still feels his face flush with embarrassment.

Eli chatters about how he'd carried Chloe through the ship, and that he'd decided that was an exercise program he could get behind, so thanks for helping him out, and anyway, it's not like it's really hard, because, Dude, you just aren't that heavy.

“And you know, it was really cool when Samwise Gamgee carried Frodo up the side of Mount Doom, not that you're Frodo Baggins, except man, he was really, really wiped out, and you are too. Are you even awake still?”

In a whisper, Eli adds, “I hope you are asleep. Please don't hate me for picking you up like that, but I can't stand what they're doing to you.”

In a louder voice, Eli resumes the smokescreen of his obnoxious chatter about that atrocious film he loves so much, and how Sam was always there for Frodo, and he thinks Eli is trying to give him a message, but he no can hold onto his thoughts any longer.

He falls asleep, to the rhythm of Eli walking slowly down Destiny's corridors.

* * *

Chapter 3: Incarceration

Everett stares up at the ceiling of his prison and tries to stop his mind from replaying his part in Rush's torture. He's not very successful, and his hands form fists as he lays on his back, a thin blanket tucked around him. He's heard nothing about how Rush is recovering. If he can recover. Everett's seen traumatized people before, but no one who was as bad off as Rush looked.

It's been days since any of them have been outside of this room, and his people are anxious and bored.

Some of them try to sleep as much as possible, others, like Greer, wait by the doors like coiled springs. There are Rock, Paper, Scissors competitions going on – Barnes is uncannily good at it – and pushups and crunches challenges.

He has Greer's unquestioning support, but even Matthew and James have looked at him uneasily at times. The rest of the military, they obviously have conflicted feelings about what happened between Rush and him. Some stare at him, speculation or pity on their faces. Others won't make eye contact or talk about what happened in the mess this past week. Quite a few of them do have discussions, in quiet corners, but he still makes out enough to know the gist of their thoughts. Most feel sorry for Rush, but some are angry at him for stranding them on the ship; if he hadn't, they wouldn't be here, wouldn't have seen the disgusting things they have, wouldn't be prisoners right now. A few think he deserved what he got.

About himself, there's also divided opinions. Mostly people think he raped Rush to save him, doing a terrible thing for a good reason, but a few have accused him of taking advantage of Kiva's demand for a crew member to join them in the rape orgy so he could hurt Rush under the guise of helping him.

Greer and Matthew and James spend a lot of time calming the waters.

They aren't being given enough food, or water, or blankets. He's pretty sure Kiva has lowered the temperature settings in this storage room, too. Especially at night. Not because the ship is low on power, no, it's just another way to demoralize them.

People share their blankets and body heat. Holding their noses while they do it, too, because the other things Kiva hasn't supplied has been clean clothes or anyway to freshen up.

He supposes they're lucky she did at least supply them with buckets for their waste.

The stench of their misery is growing stronger every day.

The sound of the doors opening brings him to his feet. It's always dim in here, never the artificial brightness that mimics daylight, never darkness that would make it easier to sleep. The lights in the corridor are brighter, silhouetting the figures standing outside the doors.

Weapons are pointed at them as someone moves up from behind the guards and into their jail cell. It's Eli and he's carrying... Rush?

Everett intercepts him, but not so fast as to trigger the guards into spraying them with bullets.

He reaches out to help carry Rush, but Eli shakes his head. “I got him; he's not very heavy. He's dead asleep, and it would be better if we don't jostle him and he can stay that way.”

There is a grim look on Eli's face. From the doorway one of the Lucians calls for Everett.

“Put him down over there,” and Everett points to his own blanket. They'd found enough packing material in the Ancient crates in the room to provide some relief from the hard cold floor, and Eli, accompanied by a handful of curious people, takes Rush over and kneels down with him.

He doesn't see if Rush woke up when Eli transferred him to the pallet because Koz is telling him why Rush has been sent in here.

TJ is afraid Rush might try to kill himself, so he's on suicide watch and not to be left alone for now. Rush has been cleared to work since early this afternoon, Koz says, and Everett asks if Rush has eaten this evening.

Koz shrugs. “I don't know if he went to the mess or not. Kiva has not forbidden it.”

“Is he capable of walking?”

“Slowly. But I think he became too tired and then the medicine he took makes him go to sleep. I will return for him in the morning. Tell Eli to come out.”

Greer has his hand on Eli's shoulder, squeezing it. “You did good, my man,” he's telling Eli when Everett joins them. Rush is a few feet away, asleep with the blanket wrapped around him. Even in this light Everett can see that Rush's hair has been cut. It's shorter now than when he worked at Icarus, but it still flatters his face, the short bangs, the other strands almost long enough to touch his ears.

“Eli, you're wanted,” he says.

Eli grimaces. “Yeah, okay. Just... he's not so good. He's not like Rush at all. Take care of him?”

“Yeah, of course we will. Don't worry about it, Eli.”

Eli laughs then, and it's bitter. “You're stealing his lines, Colonel,” he says, shooting a look downward at Rush. “Just, when he wakes up, tell him that Sam has his back. He'll know what you mean. Maybe. Unless he really was asleep the entire trip over here. Anyway, just tell him.”

Eli leaves then, and Riley and Greer and Scott punch him on the shoulder and fist bump with him and clap him on the back before Eli walks through the doorway and they are locked in again.

“Eli bring us any new intel?” Everett asks, forcing his attention away from Rush to look at at Greer and Scott.

“Yeah. He said that there's no way they can do what Rush did when he locked out the controls so only he could control the systems on another console. They've got their own people monitoring every shift, and all the systems are permanently locked to the control interface room,” Scott said, trying not to look glum. “He said that Chloe was okay, nobody else has been hurt.”

“Anything else?” Rush turns on his side and starts to curl up. The cold must be effecting him, Everett thinks.

Riley spoke up. “Sir, Rush is having trouble walking, and Eli said that Kiva wouldn't let Rush use a kino scooter they'd made for him. He said if Rush can't walk, he's supposed to crawl, if he can't or doesn't want to crawl, then he has to beg to be carried. Eli faked Rush asking for that when he picked him up. He says the guy hasn't said a single word to anybody.”

“Okay. Listen. We need to keep an eye on Rush while he's in here. TJ's afraid he's suicidal.”

“God, can you blame him?” James mutters.

Nobody has anything to say to that.

Arrangements are made then. Rush is cold, he's shivering now, and James suggests that people lie down on either side of him, but not close enough to touch him. With blankets thrown over all three of them, there might be enough body heat to keep him warm.

No one suggests that Everett should be one of the ones to do this. Instead, James and Barnes drag over bottom bedding and blankets. After they slide under the covers, Greer sits next to Everett and shares his own scratchy blanket. Greer knows exactly where Young's jacket is, but he doesn't make any comments. Young is thankful for that.

It seems to work. Rush doesn't wake up at any rate, and Young is still watching him the next morning when Rush screams his way into consciousness.

There is chaos as Rush struggles to free himself, still screaming, and Barnes and James are jolted awake, throwing off the top blankets. They try to free him, but the blanket wrapped around him alone is hampering their attempts and he shakes so violently when they have to touch him.

By the time Rush is really awake and silent everyone else is up, too, moving around, gravitating towards Rush. They don't mean to cause him further distress, Everett knows that, but Rush is standing with his hands held palms out, amidst the pool of bedding at his feet, and he looks terrified.

People move closer and Everett, who made a split second decision to let James and Barnes untangle Rush, steps around him and puts himself between his people and Rush. He takes charge, sends everyone else away and back to their beds.

He turns around when it's quiet again. Rush is still shaking and has crossed his arms around himself, holding himself tightly.

Barnes has moved the extra bedding away and James is talking softly to Rush. Everett can't make out her words, but he trusts that James will be able to reach him. She's kind, and full of empathy; she'd taken good care of Franklin, saw him as a person and not just an obligation to feed and wash and dress. She and Rush aren't close, not like Rush and Chloe are close, but Everett is sure she'll do her best to help Rush feel safe right now.

It had been a long night, sitting with his back against the wall, still feeling the cold despite Greer's solid warmth along his side. A long night to mull over the incredibly long list of poor choices he'd made over the last two years, both personal and professional.

He watches Rush, and he thinks that he fucked up even when he thought he was being helpful. He should have given the nod to Greer to take Rush to the infirmary. The choice he'd given Rush to tell him no, that he didn't want to be handled by Everett, in reality had been no choice at all. Rush had been too traumatized to be able to voice any opinion. He can see that now.

And now the man is stuck wearing a jacket with Everett's name on it. It has to be such a cruel reminder of what Everett did to him.

Rush is nodding to James and she turns to Everett, beckons him to come closer.

He makes sure that he's giving Rush plenty of personal space when he joins the other two.

“Sir,” James says. “He agreed on a tour of this place.” She nods towards the far corner where they'd set up a latrine area, shielded by crates stacked high.

For a brief moment, Everett catches a hint of an eye roll from Rush, but then it's gone again, and his expression is locked down into a blank shield.

“Yeah,” he says mildly, figuring James already asked Rush if he wanted to go with her or with one of the men. He's honestly surprised that James called him over, but she gives him a significant look and nods, and he takes that as Rush had settled on him.

Anyway this is about Rush and not him. The guy couldn't walk last night, and might need a hand. “I could use a tour myself.”

Rush nods, and lurches free of the blankets. His gait is unsteady and slow. He looks at the walls, but the areas in front of them are staked out by the other crew members.

Everett says in that same careful tone, “I'll make sure you don't fall.” Rush has avoided looking at him, but he darts a quick, brief glance at Everett. Whatever he sees on Everett's face seems to be acceptable, and he nods again.

Everett wonders if Rush has said anything at all since he woke up here. He keeps his hand near Rush's elbow as they make their slow painful way over to the buckets. Sometimes people get up from where they're huddled together and move towards Rush, but Everett shakes his head at them and they back off.

“I get the feeling you don't want to talk, and that's okay,” Everett says quietly. “But you should know that we're all worried about you. Eli says to tell you that Sam has your back.”

Rush looks puzzled for a moment, then a complicated expression of comprehension, gratitude, and worry crosses his face, with another hint of an eye roll. Everett doesn't know what the Sam reference means, but obviously Rush does.

Everett says, “I've been waving people off that want to talk to you, but if you want to see them, I'll send them over one at a time.”

Rush shakes his head hard.

“Right, so that's a definite no. Are you okay with me being with you? Because you do have choices. James or Greer or Scott or Barnes or Riley, any of them would be glad to take my place.”

Rush darts another quick glance at him, and then pulls on the jacket he's wearing.

That gesture is harder for Everett to decipher. “Umm. Okay, you know, I was never that good at Charades so let's try this again. Are you okay with me being near you, helping you if you start to take a tumble?”

Rush nods, and again tugs on his jacket.

“You keep doing that, but I don't know what you're trying to say. Do you want to take it off? It's cold in here, but you could wrap up in a blanket instead. Nobody is going to tell the guards, don't worry about that. You must hate wearing it.”

Rush shoots him an exasperated look, before shaking his head and it's so normal, that “Why are you so dense, Colonel Young” expression, so, so... Rush, that he wants to smile in relief.

Maybe he does. Rush looks away from him.

“Okay, so do you want to keep my jacket?”

Another nod, but Rush looks conflicted.

“Do you want to keep it because Kiva ordered you?”

Rush bobs his head once, and a look of shame crosses his face.

“I get that. Is that the only reason?”

A shake of his head this time. Puzzled, not really believing he could be right, Everett asks gently, “Because I gave it to you?”

This time Rush whispers, “Yes.”

“Why?” Everett blurts out before he stops to think that maybe Rush doesn't want to say. They're getting into some murky territory here. “You don't have to tell me, though.”

Rush takes a deep breath, and stops walking. They are only a few feet away from the latrines now, and the stench is not pleasant.

“I... he starts, and then falters. “You were... kind. When you gave it to me. It helps, a little.” The honesty in Rush's voice is excruciating for Everett to hear, because it's just not like Rush to admit anything involving feelings. It took him a long time to realize that Rush wasn't an unfeeling self-absorbed bastard. He just played the part of one.

“Why did you tell me that?” Everett whispers, because he's got this horrible feeling about this new found honesty of Rush's.

“You asked,” Rush whispers back, and starts shaking again.

Oh my God, he thinks, and hurries to say, “Okay, all right. You're okay, you're doing good. I'm not mad, okay?” Because while he was never the brightest in the class, if he thought about things long enough he could puzzle out answers.

Rush has been conditioned to obedience. All the torture, even before he was held down on that table, it's screwed him up so badly that he'll do whatever he's told, and not just with the Lucians.

God, it makes him feel sick. Even telling him he didn't have to answer didn't over ride that first compulsion to do what Everett told him.

And this means that he can't share with Rush any plans they come up with to take back the ship. If Kiva asks him anything about what they discuss in here, Rush won't be able to lie to her.

Even asking Rush to tell them about what's going on outside this room could backfire, because the types of questions Rush would be asked could be enough for Kiva to figure out how they might try to free themselves.

“You're okay, and I'm not going to be asking anything of you. I get it, Rush,” Everett says and is puzzled again when Rush shakes his head, a panicked look on his face before he presses both palms over his eyes.

“Rush?” he says again, and blanches when Rush chokes out in a rough voice that sounds thick with tears, “Say “Dinn,” not my...” He stumbles past Everett into the latrine and Everett hears him retching.

God, what a number Kiva's done on him, that he can't even stand to hear his own name, Everett thinks, appalled, feeling that same awful pity again that he had in the mess when he'd helped Rush.

Rush, not Dinn. In his head and to the other crew members, when the Alliance guards weren't in earshot, he was going to call him Rush, but he'd use “Dinn” when he was talking to the poor bastard. He wondered who had named him that and he guessed Kiva was okay with it. Rush couldn't defy her. Not now. Maybe not ever.

If Rush couldn't work behind Kiva's back then their chances of regaining control of the ship had just dropped like a rock.

* * *

The next night when Koz brings Rush, he's walking on his own, but he's unsteady on his feet. James has a place all ready for him, with the same arrangement as last night and she leads him over to it. He lowers himself down gingerly, and she hands him a pair of socks.

They're not much; they're his and they're smelly and have a couple of holes in them, but Rush's feet were bare last night. On some of the worlds the Goa'uld ruled, slaves were kept barefoot and that sounds like something that's just up Kiva's alley, another one of her psychological tricks. Not only would Rush's slave-like status be reinforced to her crew, who grew up within Goa'uld society, but it had to be demoralizing to Rush. And his feet are probably freezing.

Rush puts a hand to his mouth and Everett's close enough that he can see his throat working as he swallows hard a couple of times. He turns the socks over and over in his hands, and he's obviously debating with himself over what he should do before pulling them on slowly, reverently, and then draws his legs up to his chest, wraps his arms around them. Even injured like this, Rush is pretty damn flexible. It's one of the things he's noticed about him. If he didn't know better, he'd think Rush must be a regular attendant at Chloe's yoga classes.

Rush ate this morning with them, a small dollop of paste and a piece of dried fruit, a handful of toasted beans. James doesn't ask him if he ate any supper, just puts two small half pieces of fruit next to him. Riley and Scott had saved them for him.

Rush eats one, and then puts the other in a jacket pocket. He scrubs at his eyes; presumably the medicine is starting to take effect now, and he pulls the blanket tightly around himself as he lays down. Rush put in a really long day, since it's almost midnight now. That hasn't changed, at least, since being in the Alliance's custody.

James motions to Barnes and they finagle things like they did last night, and things are quiet again.

Scott looks his way and nods before sitting down against the wall next to Riley. They volunteered to stay up and keep an eye on Rush, although Everett's not sure what Rush would do to kill himself in here. Climb up on a stack of crates and take a swan dive? Nobody has any weapons or anything that MacGyver could have whipped together to defeat the bad guys. Maybe steal people's shoelaces to hang himself?

He and Greer are bunking together tonight, and he's tired. Last night was a long one, so he hits the sack. He wakes up sometime in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep, despite Greer's steady breathing. Something's been nagging at him since he and Rush had that strange conversation this morning. Rush had been grateful for Everett's jacket, but he should have been steaming mad and disgusted with him for botching defending Destiny from the Lucians' attack. If Everett had vented the gateroom as planned, he and his people wouldn't be locked up in here, Kiva wouldn't have shot one of the hostages, and Rush wouldn't have been raped and tortured for three damn days.

Why wasn't Rush angry with him? As much as he doesn't look forward to Rush's scathing analysis of his mistakes, it bothers him much more that Rush hasn't even thrown a glare his way. He pictures all of the seething rage Rush must be feeling being locked down inside that slight frame. Jesus Fucking Christ, he raped him. Rush should be throwing punches at him, accusing him of doing it for revenge and not because Everett wanted to save his life.

If Rush can't unleash that incandescent anger on him, on Kiva and her people, then he thinks TJ is right to worry about suicide.

He turns on his side, distracted by thoughts of TJ. She could have the baby any time now. He wonders if he'll ever get to see his son or daughter, and shudders to think of his kid growing up as part of the Lucian Alliance. Kiva had threatened to shoot TJ at first. She won't be doting on the baby.

He has to come up with a way to win back the ship. He doesn't know if Kiva has been negotiating with Homeworld Command or not, using their safety to force the Tau'ri to stop attacking Lucian Alliance worlds, but he knows Homeworld Command's policy. They don't negotiate with terrorists. Once Kiva accepts that, she's going to either kill them, strand them on the first planet Destiny takes them to, or try to flip them.

He has no idea if the brainwashing drugs the Alliance uses were brought on board. He suspects maybe they were, as a backup plan to deal with the crew. And since a lot of her people hadn't made it through the gate, she could use Destiny's military, or at least some of them, to fix the ship, to handle gate missions. The scientists she probably figures she can cow into obedience, after destroying the one scientist who would have kept opposing her.

So, there's that. And there's another reason they don't have much time left to act. If one of them gets turned, David's ass is grass. David hasn't been able to free them yet, so Kiva or Dannic or Varro must still be suspicious of his loyalty. Enough doubt must be there to keep him from being free to act.

He sighs because David and Rush together, they could have pulled something off, if Rush wasn't so damaged and David free of his leash.

There's something else. Another reason, a fucking good reason to turn the tables on the Alliance. Kiva had declared it would be open season on Rush in a few weeks, even with him doing everything he was asked.

Maybe she wouldn't put him back on that table. Maybe it wouldn't involve chains and beatings this time. But it would be rape.

Maybe Rush can get past what happened to him, come to terms and start to heal, but could he do that if every fucking day he didn't know if he'd have to use his mouth or bend over for some guy's dick or some girl's fingers?

They have to take back the ship, and he has never been so helpless to save his people as he is right now. Not even on that fucked up mission where David, poor brainwashed bastard, had let all those people die and he hadn't been able to stop the slaughter.

He can't do anything at the moment now except get up and relieve Scott and Riley and let them at least get some sleep.

 

* * *

Rush sits up abruptly several hours later, breathing hard, and runs his hands through his hair, disarraying it even further. He looks miserable, and his hands are shaking when he drops them back down. He huddles in on himself, making himself smaller, and there's no way he can get out of the blankets without disturbing Barnes or James.

Everett watches him for a while, to see if he'll work up the nerve to shake one of them awake, or call their name, but he just stays small and still. It's doubtful that he would have been able to relax enough to sleep near them if he hadn't been drugged.

Dark thoughts rise up, seeing Rush like that. The man had never fully answered any question Everett had put to him, and of course he'd lied before to Everett, to them all.

Everett could get the truth out of him now, though. Find out if he'd dialed the Ninth Chevron to save them, as he'd said, or if they could have gated safely to Earth when Icarus was attacked. He'd admitted he'd faked the entry in the data base about an Icarus type planet out here, Eli had caught him in that lie, but how many others were there? How many secrets was Rush keeping from him?

Kiva would do it. She'd do it in a heartbeat. So would David Telford.

It would feel like raping Rush all over again, forcing him to open up, to spill his secrets, and in his current state Rush had about as much chance of stopping him as he had when Everett had pushed into his body.

He could do it. He had enough ruthlessness in him; he'd left Rush on a planet to die, had given the order to suffocate the life out of Rush's body to free David from the Alliance's brainwashing.

But he wouldn't.

Rush eventually was let out of his prison of blankets by Barnes and he made his way to the latrines without falling on his face. He was getting better, at least physically. When he came back and found a place by the doors to sit, Everett dropped down an arm's length away, and said good morning.

It was still early, mostly people were still dreaming, or pretending to be sleeping. Rush's glance was brief, before dropping back down. Everett had noticed Rush had done that a few times before the Alliance had boarded, during arguments when Everett had found himself way too close to the other man. Rush would look downward, not meeting his eyes, and it had felt sweet to see him chastised, his body language submissive.

Remembering it now makes him want to vomit, but he fists his hands instead and concentrates on breathing until the urge passes.

Rush stays silent, staring at the knees he'd drawn up to his chest.

Everett clears his throat and Rush's attention subtly shifts towards him, waiting.

“You might not remember what I said to you on the way to the infirmary, so I'm saying it again. I'm sorry, really sorry about what I did to you. I didn't want to see you killed by Kiva, R- ah, Dinn.”

Rush ducks his head a little, but doesn't look his way.

“I don't want you to kill yourself, okay? We're going to get through this, things are going to get better.”

He waits for a skeptical laugh or sound of derision from Rush, but all he hears is the sound of Rush's breathing picking up speed.

“I had a talk with the men and women in here yesterday, after you left. They're going to give you your space, all right? And they've been ordered to be respectful. If anybody says or does anything that isn't respectful, I want to know about it, okay? I'll take care of it.”

Rush gives him one of his quick, birdlike glances, then looks away.

“Dinn, can you give me your word you're not going to harm yourself?”

Rush thinks about that for a few moments, and Everett can see the wheels turning in his head as he takes that statement and looks for loopholes. He's instantly suspicious, because he's seen Rush do that before and he recognizes it for what it is.

“Whatever it is you're thinking of doing, don't, okay? Just don't do it.”

He's not imagining it, the brief look of annoyance that Rush shoots him.

“Don't hurt yourself, don't use whatever loophole you figured out. Please, ah, Dinn. Give me a chance to make things right.”

Rush's glance around the room seems involuntary, not done deliberately to taunt him, and Everett gives him a wry smile.

“Yeah, yeah. I know how it looks right now. Still, stay alive, okay?”

Rush shrugs and it's tired and sad and if he didn't think it would scare Rush to death he would have hugged him.

“So...” Everett says, and falls into silence. He wants to ask Rush if he's seen TJ, how she's doing, but if Kiva questions Rush about what Young has asked him, he doesn't want to put TJ in her sights. Kiva might not know that he's the baby's father.

He lifts his hand to run through his own greasy feeling hair, and looks at Rush's with a bit of envy.

“They're letting you shower every day? We haven't been that lucky. It's getting pretty ripe in here. Reminds me of the early days on the ship, you know. I'm really missing being clean.”

An expression crosses Rush's face, one of fear and shame, and he looks away.

Oh, crap. Something's not right. Something to do with Rush getting to use the showers, maybe.

“What's wrong?” he says, before he remembers that he wasn't going to make Rush feel compelled to answer his questions.

Rush looks alarmed, and his hands open and close a few times but then he whispers, “The guard, Koz. In the shower room. He says things.”

Well, he might as well find out, now that he asked in the first place. “What things? Is he molesting you, because Kiva ordered her people to leave you alone for now.” He'd be fine with letting her know her people were flaunting her commands.

Rush puts his fist to his mouth and Everett doesn't press him. Seconds tick by, then minutes before Rush whispers, “He's not... touching, just looking. Going to wait. Says he'll make me like it.”

“Not going to happen,” Everett says, and thinks he might be a bigger liar than Rush ever was.

The look Rush gives him says he thinks the same thing.

“Do you have to go to the shower room?”

Rush shakes his head no, then whispers, “Worth it, to feel clean.”

Ah, God. Poor bastard. Everett has nothing he can say, and to his relief, the guards arrive with their morning rations.

Rush pulls the socks off his feet, after a shocked glance at the door. He's scared, Everett realizes. Scared because wearing them had been an act of defiance against Kiva's orders, he guesses.

The guards aren't looking their way. He casually extends a hand and calmly balls his threadbare socks up from where Rush had dropped them like they had burned his hands. He tucks them in a pants pocket. Rush is staring at his knees again. He looks like the last thing he wants to do is get up and rub elbows with the Marines and Airmen who are lining up for chow.

“Just stay here,” Everett says, and goes to claim their breakfast.

* * *

They fall into a routine for the next week. Rush comes very late every night, James and Barnes sleep next to him, and he wears Everett's socks till morning. Rush had looked directly at him when James had given him the socks again, and he nodded and then shrugged, hoping to convey his apologies for them being in such a sorry state. Rush nodded back, and it was like those times when they'd actually worked well together, sharing information and coming to agreements with just looks and nods.

Usually Rush wakes up in the morning with nightmares, after the medicine TJ is still giving him has worn off. He'll scream or jolt up in the makeshift bed. Sometimes he wakes up crying. Once James put her arm around him until he was able to stifle his sobs and push away from her.

Rush eats in the morning with him after Everett has gotten their rations, and then leaves with Koz. Always Koz, and Everett feels impotent knowing that their next stop will be the shower room. Rush is a paragon of cleanliness next to the rest of them, even manages to shave daily, and there's been growing resentment about that with some of his people.

He won't share with them what Rush has told him about the price he's paying in exchange for Destiny's cleansing mist.

Rush says very, very little, preferring to communicate with nods and gestures. Everett has had another talk with his people, and on the rare occasion someone other than Greer or Barnes or James or Scott or himself say anything to Rush, they mostly remember to call him Dinn.

Rush doesn't smile, avoids eye contact. He's always been a short, slight guy, but now he seems small, shoulders hunched, and instead of striding through the room he walks softly, hesitantly. He goes out of his way to avoid people. Most people. He tolerates a few. Him and James, mostly.

James, he can understand. She's tactful and her natural manner with people who are sick, in need, and hurting in some way is kindness without being condescending. She tried to help Spencer; she volunteered to nurse and care for Franklin. There isn't a mean bone in her body, and she's protective. She's a good soldier, a good person, and has really proved herself on this mission. He needs to let her know that, he reminds himself. His approval is apparently important to James, from what TJ has told him. He resolves to talk to her today, commanding officer to a promising junior officer.

He can't understand why Rush tolerates him and his attempts to help the guy. If it seemed to distress Rush, he'd back off, he would. Actually, it's more than just Rush tolerating his presence because Everett queries him about that every so often, and Rush affirms with nods or gestures that, yes, he wants him to be nearby. It's fucked up as hell, and if they get rid of the Alliance – not that any progress has been made on that front – they're going to have to bring in a whole team of therapists with the stones.

Then one night, Rush doesn't return, and the guards won't answer his questions in the morning.

He's been asking Rush to not hurt himself every day, to the point where Rush actually rolled his eyes at the statement once.

He immediately shut down afterwards, but Everett had been happy to see a glimpse of the real Rush.

He doesn't know what's happening now with Rush, with the ship, with David. Camile and the civilians. The Science Team. TJ. Or even if his baby has been born.

He gathers his patience and waits. Knowing all of this is his fault eats at him, and he thinks of that old story of the god who was punished by having eagles tear out his liver every day after he'd grown back a new one. Prometheus had been chained and helpless to stop it from happening. He knows how the guy must have felt, but he'll try to be the commander his men and women need right now, here in this cell. On this ship.

Something will change soon. It has to. Their food supply is getting low, and Homeworld Command has probably been stalling Kiva, hoping Everett can take back the ship. She won't buy it for much longer.

Something is going to happen and he begins drilling his people on their plan to kamikaze their guards as a last resort. They'll lose people, but not as many as they will if Kiva vents the air out of this room.

But that's a last resort. For now they drill and wait.

Chapter 4: Impulsion

“Dinn, you must stop now,” his Alliance guard dog says, and opens the opaque glass doors of the shower stall. Koz sounds impatient, and his eyes sweep up and down Rush's naked body. He freezes under that gaze. Koz smiles at him and beckons him to come out. When he does, Koz wraps a towel around him, stepping close, so close, but not touching his bare skin. “You must get dressed quickly. I indulge you too much, and I have other duties.”

Koz escorts him from the shower room through the corridors; he walks easily now, bruises are fading, cuts healing. Some will scar.

He is thinking only of the ship, of the broken systems that he's trying to repair, the unexplored areas. Of the algorithm he designed to identify Destiny's master code. He stopped the search, buried it behind fire wall after fire wall, before he and Brody had scurried away as part of Telford's plan to cheat Kiva out of controlling the ship.

He will not think about Koz's daily ritual with him before he is released to stand in Destiny's warm mist, the towel swaddled around him afterwards. He wishes he could stay in the shower forever, alone, safe. Clean skin and hair, and if sometimes tears escape to mingle with the cleansing mist, only he knows about it. He has been working hard to not cry anywhere else, although his dreams sometimes betray him.

It is harder to banish thoughts of the Colonel. Young has continued to be kind to him, and Rush has been bloody grateful and it is difficult to reconcile that with being beaten and left on a planet to die, with the mistrust and arguments, and Young's lack of making the fucking hard decisions that would have saved them. With how he'd entered Rush's body on Kiva's command.

Cognitive dissonance aside, he knows that Young is feeling guilty, and is trying to make amends. He wants Rush to live and is annoyingly persistent about telling him that.

His breath comes too fast when he thinks, as he often does, that Young will probably die before he does. Kiva's patience is wearing thin, he hears. The guards talk to each other and pay him no attention. He would have told Young what they say, but the man already knows their time as prisoners is coming to an end; he's heard Young talking to Scott and James and Greer. They will make some sort of suicidal attack, as a last resort.

Young isn't making plans with him about re-taking the ship. He doesn't think Rush is strong enough to manage it or withstand being interrogated. Rush doesn't think so, either. He's weak, and he knows it.

“Dinn,” Koz warns, and Rush looks up. Dannic is ahead, hands on his hips, staring at him.

Dannic waves him to approach, and he veers towards him, his heart drumming frantically in his chest. It is never, never good when Dannic takes an interest in him.

Grabbing his arm, Dannic shoves him into the observation deck and says, “Here.” He pulls out his gun, shows that it's loaded and puts it on top of a table that Rush has sat at and played chess with Eli or had worked on his laptop when he'd wanted to stare out at something other than the walls.

“Go ahead, Kresh'ta. Kill yourself. Or get down on your knees if you want to live. Either way, I'm tired of wasting my people's time on you.”

He begins shaking. Dannic's voice and his posture are full of contempt. He has no fear that instead of killing himself, Rush will shoot him. He's far enough back that he won't be able to reach the weapon before Rush does, if Rush is quick and decisive.

But he's not, and Dannic will take the gun from him and kill him with it if he tries.

He doesn't want to die like this. He sinks to his knees and bows his head. He hears Dannic pick up his weapon and re-holster it. “That's what I thought.” He strides to Rush and kicks him hard. “You go to your own quarters tonight and be locked in like the rest of them. Koz isn't going to hold your hand anymore. He's needed. Get up and check in with Ginn in the control interface room for your assignment today.”

Ginn has become the scientist's leader; she determines who will work on what projects, and she sends them in teams quite often, one of his scientists paired with one of theirs. The Lucians have discovered what the kinos are capable of and have substituted mechanical eyes for human ones, so there are rarely guards with them anymore. The exception had been for him, either out of fear he will kill himself if not constantly watched – and they initially wanted his skills as they familiarized themselves with Destiny – or they thought he would do something to sabotage them. Apparently neither is something to concern themselves with anymore. He is expendable, obviously. And no threat.

He gets up and follows Dannic out of the room, limping. Koz shoots him a relieved look before the two Alliance men go down one way and he goes another to get his assignment from Ginn.

People pass him in the corridors. One of the Lucians smirks at him and blows him a kiss. Park and one of the Lucian scientists, Chen, are together. Park has been working in hydroponics, so he imagines they are headed there. She looks surprised to see him walking alone, and then hopeful.

He can't stand to see that expression on her face, so he breaks the brief eye contact they had.

Stealing in to the control interface room, no one notices him. Partly it's his bare feet, mostly it's because he's so quiet. He always did gravitate to the outer edges of rooms, slipping in to observe and usually being the first to leave. Now he feels more like a ghost come to haunt the places where Doctor Nicholas Rush used to wield authority.

There are still guards stationed here. The control interface room is the hub of their systems, the place most likely to be attacked. One guard watches video feeds from the kinos that trail work parties and are stationed where people might congregate, like the mess and the observation deck, and in most of the corridors. They haven't bothered to put one in the prisoner's quarters.

Guards are also stationed outside of the neural interface room; when he'd learned that he'd felt his last hope of escaping from this hell dissipate away like mist. None of the Lucians have tried to use it; it's not clear to him how much Kiva understands about it. Telford knew of it, of course, but it had been some time between his last contact with the Alliance and Rush idiotically swapping bodies to prove Telford was the mole. He might not have reported very much at all.

Telford is no longer brainwashed; he did send partial control of the consoles to Rush before he apparently was at risk of being discovered and had scurried away. But he might have decided it was better to stay a member of the Alliance instead of just pretending to be on Kiva's side. He's a pragmatic son-of-a-bitch, a quality they share. Had shared. He's not sure about himself anymore. Raping him had strengthened Telford's credentials, if he's still playing the part of an undercover agent, but if he really is still on Young's side, why hasn't he done anything to take back the ship?

There will not be any rescue for them from Homeworld Command. They are on the far, far side of the universe.

He starts to work at a console, just checking major systems, waiting for Ginn to give him his orders for the day.

She has not talked privately to him since that first time. Varro had not been pleased when he found out only Ginn had been left to guard the room; since then a full detail is stationed here at all times. Rush wonders what else she meant to tell him.

Ginn does not send herself out on work details, instead she co-ordinates and monitors, besides doing her own work here. She's curious about the attempt to dial within a star and she and Eli have been working on it together. Their heads are bent over one of the consoles and from what he hears they are absorbed in their pet project again.

He has his own opinions about it, and he's fair sure that these children aren't considering all the many variables of what could go wrong when dialing within a star. He doesn't share them.

He doesn't interrupt them as they discuss Eli's solution, but Ginn catches sight of him. She smiles at him, and his stomach twists, because he can't forget what she did to him, even if she did it out of fear for her own life.

Eli looks vaguely like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He must like the girl; she's a bright Little Miss, but she's the enemy.

He suspects that working together is starting to blur that line a little for the scientists on both sides.

She asks him to go with Calvos to run on site diagnostics on the FTL engines. There's discrepancies that can't be reconciled, and they might need to get Brody down there as well. This is really more of an engineer's task, but he's more than capable of getting his hands dirty.

The rest of the day passes and Calvos exchanges places with another one of the Lucian's technicians. Rush doesn't ask for a meal break. He can't go to the mess. Koz took him there once, and he had a panic attack when he forced himself to look in the door. It felt like his heart was dying, and he couldn't move or breathe. He almost passed out, but Koz grabbed him.

Koz wants to fuck him, but he's not sadistic, unless he's under Kiva's orders. He pulled Rush away from there and let him regain his control. For the last week he usually saved something from meals to hand to him on the way back to the holding cell. Between that and the morning meal, he's not starved.

He's hungry now, but he'll live with it until he figures out some other way to find food. Maybe he can snatch something out of hydroponics, if he can come up with a plausible reason for being there.

It's very late, and he's told to finish up his repairs and start packing up the tools he's been using to take down panels and access wiring and conduits. He knows that all the crew quarters are kept locked down once they are entered until morning when they are unlocked again so people can start their work duties.

He could program a work around for that. His door would register as still locked even if he were to open it himself from the inside. It's like a worm in his brain, that thought, and it won't leave him alone.

Risky, though. Very, very risky to try that. If he was caught while programing, Kiva would not be pleased. He shudders at the thought, and pulls Young's jacket a little tighter around himself.

Jasor is working at a console, monitoring and running diagnostics on the repairs. Ginn had transferred control to this remote console so the work could be done more efficiently. The kino floats above them, and he imagines whichever guard is watching them must be absolutely bored.

He's just completed his task when the radio erupts in the silence. Jasor is to report immediately to the neural interface room. Telford has killed the guards and gone inside, he's jammed the door controls by shooting them.

Jasor acknowledges that he's on his way, and shouts at Rush to pack up the tools and bring them over, and for him to finish up the diagnostics.

He is thinking furiously as he complies, that this is a distraction that he could use, that he will be alone here at an active console, that it is terrifying to think of defying the Alliance again.

Telford has made his move, but he doesn't know how to use the buffering program. Most likely, he will only fry his brain when he sits in the chair, unless he's willing to ask Destiny to take him into the ship like Rush has been longing to do.

He glances at Jasor, but the man isn't watching him, and he makes an instinctive split second decision and shoves a small slender screwdriver up his sleeve. From this angle, the kino can't see his hands.

Young's jacket is looser on him, the sleeves a little longer. Long enough to conceal that he's holding the handle of the screwdriver by one bent finger, as he finishes throwing the rest of the assorted paraphernalia of tools into the Ancient tool caddy and locking it. It's awkward, though, holding it like that and the thought of dropping it looms in his mind.

He tells himself to keep his grip on it, that it might be the key to his freedom, of one sort or another.

Hurrying over to Jasor, he hands the caddy to him, and Jasor takes off running. He slips the screwdriver along with his hands into jacket pockets, as if he wanted to warm his hands. It's a plausible reason. The ship is even colder down here.

The kino is still there, of course, but Rush would bet his life – and he is, he realizes – that whoever is still watching is not paying much attention to him.

He was ordered to finish running the diagnostic on the repair; he has a creditable reason for standing at this console and he sees where Jasor has stopped. He needs more time to be here, jabbing at the controls and coding, so he deliberately crashes the program. He fakes his annoyance, and sighs deeply and tiredly as he mutters just loud enough for the kino to pick up that it's going to take forever to re-run the bloody diagnostic.

His palms are sweaty, his heart drumming hard and fast, and his mouth is dry. He tries to remember not to lick his lips, a giveaway that he is anxious. He tries to not remember being grabbed and dragged to the mess.

He is better than the wreck of a human being that he's become.

He. Is. Better.

He is better, he is, and yes, he's had a serious shock, emotional and physical trauma, as TJ and Camile phrased it, but for the first time since he was thrown into a room to wait for Kiva's judgment, he has some bloody agency.

It is frightening, it is glorious, it is freeing, it is one step from being a disaster, what he's going to do in this deserted part of the ship.

He's going to do it. Defy Kiva. Defy the bloody fucking Lucian Alliance.

He earned a Ph.D that he clawed his way out of Glasgow to have and he had been loved by a brilliant woman. There are people who care about him here and on Earth. There are people he cares about. A few, like Chloe and Mandy, even know it.

There's a fucking puzzle of a man to decipher here, and they were not done with each other.

He's been given the chance of a lifetime. The ship was named Destiny for a reason and he needs to know why the Ancients sent her out so long ago. Like breathing, he needs this. Although he's willing to actually give up breathing if it's the only way to still be a part of this mission. And to save himself from being put back on the table. He can't go back there again, and the thought of the screwdriver in his pocket is reassuring; if he can't get to the neural interface chair he'll jam it in his carotid artery and bleed out before he's bent into a pretzel for fucking once more.

Maybe they'll catch him again, the bastards, but he'll put up a fight first.

His way. What he's doing right now, actually, using the smoke screen of the diagnostic he's restarted. There's limitations on what he can do with this console but he'll do all he can. First he sets his search for the master code to running again, but hidden this time, where not even Eli will find it, and when it's done it will cause a minor crash, looking like a glitch. A glitch only he will be able to solve, with the correct input. Once he does so, the master code will be revealed.

It could take weeks though. Or maybe just hours. With the master code, he can fully unlock Destiny's systems. He's not sure exactly how that will happen, but one bridge at a time.

A narrow rope bridge with no fucking sides over the deepest chasm ever seen, is what it feels like, but he's set foot on it now.

He checks the diagnostic, makes some adjustments, then does the work around for altering his door lock. He debates doing the same for the holding cell Young and his military are confined in, but there are guards always on the outside of the door. Not just two or three; from what he's seen when he was brought there it's a half a dozen or more. It would be a blood bath if the guards are rushed and maybe it will come to that. But not yet. Colonel Young with his suicidal tendencies to always put himself first into danger would almost certainly be killed if they did it now.

He does a little delicate exploring with his console until in a small window on the screen he can see what the guard monitoring the kinos in the control interface room can see.

Ah. It's not looking good for their side. They're dragging Telford out of the neural interface room and forcing him to his knees in front of Kiva.

Her expression is merciless and he shudders. Kiva won't take well to betrayal. It almost makes him feel sorry for Telford, but the memory of how the bastard had stroked him until he'd come while raping his mouth prevented that.

Young had patted his leg in apology when he'd been about his business. Telford had decided to be an over-achiever to impress Kiva.

Telford is bleeding slightly at the temples so he did make it into the chair. But he's not seizing and shaking like poor Franklin did, and his eyes look coherent.

Kiva is handed a pain stick and proceeds to make Telford experience the agony of the bloody thing. His own muscles tighten in involuntary sympathy. The worst had been when he'd been chained on the table and Dannic or Simeon had jabbed him when he'd start to fall asleep, bringing him screaming out of REM and back into the waking nightmare his life had become.

He watches until the diagnostic is completed and Telford is unconscious. Kiva orders Telford to be taken to a different holding cell, and he's dragged away by two men.

It's time for him to disappear. He does not want to cross paths with Kiva, not tonight, not ever again, really, and he shuts down the programs, deactivates the monitor.

He's fair sure that he's erased any traces of this evening's dangerous activities that would lead to this console. To him.

Quietly, carefully, he picks his way to his quarters, the kino following him, and steps inside. The door locks. From what he can tell, the kinos are recalled after they escort the crew to their quarters. He counts to five thousand, and his hands are trembling when he pushes the control. The locks spin open and he takes his courage in hand and looks out into the corridor, then steps outside of his room. It is quiet and he feels his heart thudding, wild with fright and ready to jump out of his chest. There is no sign of the kino. He waits until his heart calms, and his breathing is slow and regular, then steps back into the room and shuts it once more.

Keeping on Young's jacket, he climbs into his bed. He feels cold and now the adrenaline rush of defying Kiva has given way to exhaustion.

He shudders under the covers and curls into a ball. The animal warmth of the body heat from Barnes and James and hearing their breathing, that's something he never thought he would miss, but right now, he does.

He continues to shake, and he knows it's from his nerves, not the usual coolness in the room. He's become disobedient and plans on staying that way and it's a fight between his will and his body. Fear of not doing as he's told, fear of the consequences have been so deeply ingrained in him by Kiva's reprogramming method that it's changed him probably all the way down to his mitochondria.

But he isn't his bloody body, now is he? His body has never been a bulwark for him, protecting him due to innate size and strength. He'd been a clever tot, a smart lad, and he'd used those attributes instead for the most part, although he'd still been in plenty of scrapes as a wee boy and young man.

“The mouth on you, Nicky,” his father would growl. “When you gonna learn to shut it and keep your head down.”

Sometimes his old Da would then teach him himself the consequences of having a bold tongue, but more often when Nick would come home bruised and bleeding, when being clever hadn't saved him from a drubbing, he'd been trying to give him advice.

And here he is, about to flaunt Da's advice again. Because he's more than his body; he has a mind and a will, and he's found a way to fight back.

But his body is afraid. Deeply, intensely afraid, and the hairs rise on the back of his neck and sweat breaks out when he thinks of continuing to defy Kiva.

He must stay out of her sight, because he doesn't trust his body to not give him away to her. He must stay small and walk softly, and not look her or anyone in the eyes.

Bloody eyes. He's terrified of what he might give away now. No one must see into his soul, no one. Not Kiva or Dannic or Simeon, the worst of them. They punish him and torment him at a whim, and if they catch a hint of defiance-- God. Not Varro or Calvos or Jasor, who treat him disdainfully but won't hurt him unless he gets out of line. Not Koz, who for some unfathomable reason wants him sexually and has made him feel dirty even as he allows him to enter the showers, but who has also shown him some kindness. Not Eli, who whispers things like “Are you okay?” and “I've got your back, Frodo,” to him when he thinks no one is watching. Not Ginn, who does see and hear Eli, but who chooses to pretend that she doesn't.

He's always found it compelling to look into Young's eyes, they've been so many things already to each other, but if Young is turned by the Alliance, then he dreads what will happen when Young looks now. He will certainly know Rush is being deceitful.

There are those who have been kind, Lieutenant Johansen and Camile and James, and others, but he can't risk them or any of the others who have looked at him with pity seeing the truth and perhaps giving him away.

Another truth. He's ashamed that he's earned their pity; he doesn't want to see it in their eyes when they look into his.

He wraps his arms around himself tightly, still cold, still too wound up to try to sleep. For the first night since Young carried him away from the mess, he hasn't drunk Johansen's green brew. It's forced him to sleep whether he was frightened or sad or busy hating himself.

It's going to be a long sleepless night, he fears. He's had many, many of those, but usually he gets up and walks and finds something useful to do to occupy his mind.

Not even calculating large numbers and then deciding if they're prime or not helps lull him into drowsiness; instead he finds himself calculating the many ways he's failed himself, failed Gloria, failed this crew.

Holding the screwdriver in his hand is somewhat comforting though, until he hears the door unlock and spin open and knows that morning is here.

Chapter 5: Insolence

Three mornings after Rush walked out of the cell and left with Koz, their already skimpy rations are cut in half. Everett isn't surprised. The ship has not dropped out of FTL since they jumped away from the binary pulsar and its deadly radiation. They were low on supplies even then, due to being on the edge of the new galaxy they'd jumped to after their problem with the FTL engines had been solved. There aren't as many suitable planets in this part of space for them to replenish their stores.

He wonders if the Nakai are still tracking them. He wonders when they'll need to stop at a star and refuel.

Five days and twelve hours after he last saw Rush, David Telford is dragged into the storage room, his head bent, feet ineffectively trying to take steps as he is supported by two of the bigger Lucians. A kino flies in with them and zooms up to the roof.

David is dropped unceremoniously onto his hands and knees and the Lucians back out of the room, covered by the rest of the guards pointing weapons at them.

Everett waits until the doors spin shut again, locking them in, and then goes to help David. He and Matthew sit him down by the closest wall. David looks like his nose had been broken days ago; there's a dark bruise there and across his upper cheeks, but they're already starting to fade.

“What happened?” Everett says, as he crouches down in front of David, and he hasn't forgotten the kino that's recording his words.

“I tried to sit in the chair. I don't even know what the ship could have done to help you, Everett. I didn't get the chance to find out. I was pulled out of it right after I finally figured out how to remote start the thing.”

Everett looks at David's temples and sees the healing marks of the neural probes. He's seen them on Rush, on Franklin.

“When did you make your attempt?”

“Yesterday.” David touches one of the scabs, and frowns.

“So Kiva knows you aren't brainwashed anymore, that you've been playing her?”

“Yeah. And believe me, she isn't happy about it.” David winces and rubs his arm. “She had me tazered until I passed out.”

“What's going on out there, David?”

“Everybody's on short rations, even the Lucians. You know we haven't dropped out of FTL, and people are antsy about that. The crew is... adjusting. Nobody's made any attempts to take the ship back.” David laughs then. “Except me. I tried to divert control to a console so I could maybe get Eli to use it, but that trick's not going to work anymore. The Lucians took care of that little loophole. That's why I went for the chair, thought maybe I could get the ship to release all control to me. That I could order the Lucians to stand down, or lose their air.”

“Eli know you were going to try to get control to a console?” Everett asked.

“No. I was watched for quite a while. Dannic especially didn't trust me. When I saw my chance I took it and figured if it worked, I'd let Eli know. But it didn't work, and then I tried for the chair. I fucked up, Everett. Kiva caught me.”

“What about Rush? Couldn't he help you?”

“Rush? That poor bastard is broken so hard he's useless.” David tries to look suitably concerned about that, but the thing is, that Everett knows David pretty damn well. It's not convincing, that concern, but then, David and Rush have never gotten along.

“TJ fix you up?”

“Nah. I straightened my nose myself, and anyway, she's in labor, I think. I saw her walking the corridor with Chloe and Park when I was being dragged down here. They were hovering over her.”

God. He should be with her, and he clenches his fists, hard, behind his back. He doesn't want David to see how that news is hitting him.

“What's Kiva planning to do with us?” Everett says and stands back up.

David looks up at him. “The IOA is doing the negotiating between Homeworld Command and Kiva, mostly to drag it out, I think. Homeworld Command has surrendered two of the stones to the Lucian Alliance in return for all of you being kept alive so far. I think that's as far as O'Neill is willing to go, though.”

“So is she going to shoot us, let the stargate vaporize us, or maroon us on a planet?”

“She's still thinking about it.”

Everett raises his eyebrows. “Kiva never struck me as the indecisive type. She's got a plan. I think I know what it is.”

He addresses the kino, looking upwards at the ceiling. “Kiva's going to brainwash at least some of us, like she just did to Colonel Telford again. You should come and get him. We've got a lot of cranky people in here, and I can't guarantee his safety.”

David struggles to his knees. “What? Everett!? How can you say that? You freed me yourself, and almost killed Rush to do it!”

Everett taps his own nose. “I've had my nose broken before. That didn't happen yesterday, and you didn't sit in the chair yesterday, either. The marks on your head, David, those are from a couple of days ago at least.” He lets David see the compassion he's feeling for him, poor bastard. “I think you did sit in the chair and got caught and she's re-snared you.”

David stares at him and then smiles and stands easily. “Kiva didn't brainwash me, Everett. I'm just being practical. C'mon, O'Neill is never going to agree to Kiva's demands. Giving the stones to the Alliance was just a stalling technique. Your only hope is to cooperate with us. Kiva's crew, your crew, they're going to be together for a long time.” He gives Everett a challenging glare. “You really want to know Kiva's plan?”

Crossing his arms, he says, “Sure.” Matthew has beckoned to Greer and they are close enough to take David down if Everett makes the slightest wave of his finger.

“Kiva believes in rewarding her people. That's why she's got such a good, efficient bunch. Out here, she's a little low on her usual currency. But she's got your crew. She's going to let the best of us pick out who we want from your people. Call it an incentive plan. Right now, it's hands off the merchandise.”

He can barely speak, he's so angry at this callous plan. But he forces himself to keep asking questions. They need the intel, even if the source is David's screwed up head.

“So nobody's being molested?” He controls his tone, makes sure it's mild, neutral sounding.

David shakes his head. “Kiva's forbidden it. She says she won't start rewarding for a couple of months. Really stringing things along, but then, as I'm sure you've figured out, Kiva's a control freak.”

“And the Lucians are just falling into line?”

“Mostly. She's already had to punish Simeon for trying to jump one of the women. Guy's a real horndog.” David sounded and looked disgusted, and Everett hopes his friend is still in there somewhere. Kiva's brainwashing might be less than perfect this time around.

“Is she all right? Who was it?” He clenches his fists again behind his back. He never believed in Kiva's assurances to the crew that they would be safe as long as they followed her orders. Rush was just the first to be hurt after their surrender, not the last.

“That red-headed scientist. The short one, hangs around with that tall, long haired, blonde woman who looks like one of the Valkyrie? She's pretty shook up, but Varro pulled Simeon off her right away. For his disobedience he's at the bottom of the list to pick a playmate, besides earning a beating and getting stuck with scut work. Guess he'll be using Rush a lot when he's open for business again.”

There's a roaring in his ears, and an accented voice in his head saying, with skepticism, “So we're to be rewarded at your whim?” He wants to choke the life out of David, but he knows it's not his fault. His hands clench again, and he grits out, “And just who gets to be your prize?”

David licks his lips, subtly pushes out his chest. “Ideally, you, Everett. I think we'd be good together, and we are friends.”

He chuckles at the expression Everett is making. “No, really, I'd just as soon have fucked you as your wife. But I didn't think you'd ever go for that. But, unless you were turned you'd never cooperate. You'd strangle me in my sleep. Don't think I haven't been able to tell what you were just thinking, either. You've really got a thing for people's necks, don't you?”

David is smirking, and Everett feels Greer step closer. “Sir?” Greer says. “Say the word and I'll shut his damn mouth.”

Everett bites out, “Stand down, Sergeant.” He takes a deep breath. “And if I was turned?”

Shrugging, David says, “Then you're on the side that gets rewarded. Only, I think I should let you know that TJ is going to be snapped up by Varro. He's playing it slow. Probably going to court her so she thinks it's her decision.”

Everett says nothing. Scott though, blurts out, “What about Chloe?”

“She's popular. A little young for me, though. There's a lot of competition for her, and for Park and the other pretty women of child bearing years. They have more value." David looks thoughtful, the same expression Everett's seen in briefings and in the field. "I think Kiva's going to take Camile. Ginn has asked for Eli, I hear. Now that one's more dicey. The Alliance doesn't really value scientists, and if that little red-head doesn't find us a planet to stop at soon, Dannic's probably going to try to strangle her again.”

“So the civilians are going to be sex-slaves?” He forces himself to say those words, to just lay it out.

David shrugs again. “Probably, but some of the Lucians are already in relationships, so some might get picked just to be like, personal servants. Do grunt work, scrub clothes, that kind of thing.”

“And Rush?”

“He's still gonna be the town whore. I expect a lot of Kiva's crew are going to release their frustration with waiting by fucking him. Although Koz is kind of sweet on him. Still, Koz isn't that high up, you know, and I don't think Kiva wants him given to just one person.”

David looks speculatively at him. “She might give him to you, if you're turned successfully and prove yourself. Not everybody can have their loyalties realigned. It helps if there's a hook; he could be your key. You know, I always wondered if you had a thing for him. You were pretty quick to volunteer to fuck him.”

He wants to tell David to shut the fuck up, but he stifles the urge. Let him keep running his mouth, maybe he'll say something useful. “Let's leave him out of this. Has Kiva shared her master plan with the crew?”

“No. And her people are under orders to keep their mouths shut. She wants to let your crew settle down, get to know her people.”

“How's the ship functioning? The damage from the pulsar?”

“All fixed. You know, Rush is really good at what he does. Even looking like a zombie case of PTSD, he's been able to keep his focus when it comes to his work. I hear it was his solutions that kicked the systems efficiency back up.”

David looks up at the kino. “Okay, my cover's blown and I think I've demoralized these people sufficiently. Open the doors and let me out.” He chuckles again. “It's pretty ripe in here.”

Nothing happens. David shakes his head, looks up again at the kino. “What, are you people out to lunch? I said I was ready to leave. They know I'm not one of them anymore.”

Kiva's voice comes through the kino. “You killed three of my loyal men, Colonel Telford. There's a price to pay for that. I'm not entirely certain now if you truly belong to the Alliance again, so consider this a test. For you, it's if you'll recant your loyalty to me when faced with a mob of hungry, angry soldiers. For Colonel Young, it's a test of his leadership. Can you keep your people from killing this traitor, Colonel?”

David straightens his shoulders, and gives a furious look at the kino.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here,” Greer says, and crowds right up against David.

David glares at Greer, and Matthew shoots Everett a look that begs for guidance.

He is so tired of all of this. He wishes he could just tell Matthew to take over, but instead he orders Greer to back off, and picks eight of his best, most stable people to form a protection detail for David. He hesitates over Greer. There is history between David and Greer, but Greer is one of his absolute best. He deserves every bit of Everett's trust, so he waves him over to Matthew's side. He briefs them on the situation and gives orders, lets them know that he's handing over his trust to them. They stand a little straighter to a chorus of “Yes, sirs,” and Greer salutes him.

He orders David to move into a corner and the detail into guard formation; he calls the rest of his people together and explains what they have learned. It's better that they hear it from him than having scuttlebutt run rampant through the ranks, based on hearing snatches of David's conversation.

He stays awake for hours, to keep an eye on the situation. His people are outraged that the civilians are going to be used as prizes for the Lucians, and there has been a lot of uneasy glances between them. Their own fate is still unknown; death, brainwashing, collaboration. Kiva can't possibly have enough drugs to brainwash all of Destiny's military. He wonders if that's one of the purposes of the kino, besides watching what happens to David. To start assessing who to choose to pickle their brains with their damned drugs.

TJ is in labor and it's eating him alive that he's not with her. Their personal relationship is ended and there's no going back to it, but he's the baby's father. He wants to be in the baby's life, be a father to his son or daughter. TJ will be a great mom, their child couldn't ask for a better parent, and as for him, he'd vowed when TJ had told him about the baby that he'd do his best for his child and for TJ.

Now it's looking like his child will grow up thinking of Varro as its father. He wants to hit the walls; he wants someone to hit him, to punish him for his failures as a commander and as a man. He never should have allowed what happened between him and TJ. It's his fault, all of this.

He wants to get drunk. God, does he wish he had a thermos of Brody's alcohol right now. He sits against the wall and scrubs his hands over his face, hoping that he just looks tired to his people, not like he's having the breakdown he can't allow himself.

Becker approaches him with a blanket. “Sir, I know you usually bunk with Sergeant Greer, but my bunk buddy is on guard duty, too. I thought I'd ask if you wanted to try to get some sleep.” Becker gives him a sheepish grin. “I've been told I give off heat like a furnace in January, sir.”

Everett wants to bury his head in his hands and laugh till he cries. Instead, he nods at Becker and together they fix up a bed and huddle up close for warmth.

Becker wasn't kidding about the body heat. The man's huge and very warm and despite not thinking he'd be able to actually sleep, Everett finds himself giving in to his exhaustion and drifting off.

 

* * *

“Sir!” He comes awake fast, an old habit from his time as a SGC team leader that has stuck with him.

“Report,” he says, his voice rough, and sits up. It's James.

“The doors just unlocked,” she says, “We thought the Lucians were going to enter, maybe to take Colonel Telford out, but nothing's happening. It's too early for rations.”

He glances at his watch. Almost 04:00. Is this some kind of test? Or has someone managed to give them an advantage?

He shakes Becker awake and orders him and James to get the rest of their people up and into the formations they practiced to rush the guards.

“Tell them this is not a drill, they're to stay sharp and focused. We don't know what's going on out there, but we're about to find out.”

He trots over to where David is sitting. “Anything you forgot to tell me, David?” he asks, a little dryly.

“I'm as curious as you are, Everett.” David stands. “But I don't suppose I'll be going with you to find out.”

Everett shakes his head. “Greer, tie him up, leave two men to guard him.”

“Yes, sir,” Greer snaps out and pulls out shoelaces from a pocket. “You,” he orders David. “Turn and put your hands behind your back.”

After David's secured, Everett takes his place in the front line. Matthew throws him a look that he's going to classify as questioning if this is Everett leading the way or Everett following suicidal impulses.

The two aren't exclusive of each other.

“Let's move out,” Everett orders, and Dunning hits the door control.

* * *

Chapter 6: Deprivation

He's hungry. Rush never had been one to pay much attention to regular mealtimes or regular sleep; if he was busy working, he'd just drink another mugful of black, hot coffee and power on through until he was satisfied with his progress. Used to fair drive Gloria into exasperation with him, and sometimes she'd plop herself down in his lap and run fingers through his hair, thoroughly derailing him until it was pointless to try to go back to work, and they'd eat and tumble into bed and make love and sleep. He misses her desperately, but he's glad she's not here to see what he's become. A slave for the Alliance.

It's been a day and a half since he last ate anything. He's tried to go to the mess. He's tried multiple times and he's felt a panic attack coming with each step closer he takes to the doorway. Like right now, when he tried to talk himself into giving it another go. He turns and runs down the hall, stopping when he's two corridors away and panting to catch his breath.

He just can't face going in there and seeing that table. He feels like such a coward, but he can't do it. He'll just have to figure out another way to get food.

Maybe try asking for help. See if someone he knows would get his rations for him and bring them to him. He tried to ask Eli this morning. The boy said he had his back, but the words stuck in his throat and he didn't say anything after all. He thinks it wouldn't have worked anyway. Their food is strictly rationed, and he's sure Eli would be told Rush needed to come in himself. If they can't find a planet soon to replenish their stores, then their food and water will be reduced even further.

At least he does have water. It's brought to the control interface room and passed out there to all the scientists by Ginn. She never forgets to give it to him, even though he hangs back and doesn't crowd up with the rest of that thirsty bunch.

He walks by hydroponics and stops outside the door. He's not assigned to work here; he's to go to the number two shield emitter and take a look at what's making the outflow waver around. Calvos will meet him there.

They let him walk around the ship on his own; no one, not the Lucians or the crew, think he's anything but a broken compliant thing. He glances up and down the corridor, there is no kino here spying on passerbys. He glances inside the room, checking out the high domed ceiling, looking around at the walls. No kino, and he clenches and unclenches his hands before daring himself to just get this done. To do his best to not be what they all think he is now.

He slips inside, hoping to snare something quickly and leave again, but as he softly treads on the paths between the beds he sees Park through some of the foliage, examining some of the plants.

Not wanting her to notice him, he retreats, heading back towards the doorway. He's about to snatch a handful of those awful little tomatoes and gulp them down when the sound of someone talking on a radio snaps his head up and his arm down. He sneaks closer to the end of the row and his heart seems to skip a beat. There's a guard at the door now.

Of course he should have realized that Kiva wouldn't leave one of the most important resources on this ship unguarded. The Lucian must have been momentarily called away, or had taken a bathroom break.

He's trapped. If he doesn't show up soon for his own work detail, a search party will be sent out. He'll be caught and punished. He puts a fist to his mouth and begins to shake. He has to get out of here without being seen by the guard.

Think, he orders himself. Bloody well think, don't stand there shivering in your non-existent boots, think of a diversion, something to get that guard away from the door.

He could ask Park to be the diversion. But she'll look at him with those big eyes and he knows she won't actually see him standing there, she's going to see him tied up and being fucked on that table. The woman's eyes practically brim over whenever she looks at him across the control interface room, and he can't handle seeing her cry because of him.

He's got to do something right now. He spots a tall stack of tilted pots on a bench and they look precarious, as they don't fit well inside each other. He calculates the path the guard and Park are most likely to take if he knocks them over, finds rocks some sentimental fool has picked up from a planet and arranged with quite a few others so the bed of plants is decorative as well as practical.

He takes three fist size ones and positions himself. He grips the first one, a rather nice chunk of granite, pink and black and white, and a memory surfaces and then is shoved away, for he has no time for this nonsense, of a trip to the Highlands as a boy for his great-grandmother's funeral and some old man showing him the feldspar and quartz crystals within the rocks that lined the path to Granny's small cottage.

He takes a deep breath and plots out the projection needed and hurls the stone at the pots. They fall over with a satisfying amount of clatter and he hears Park say, “Oh!” in startlement. He drops the other rocks into a bed and crouches down; the guard heads toward the back of the room. When he's certain the guard can't turn around and spot him, and the man is talking to Park about the pots all over the floor, he moves stealthily towards the door, unzipping Young's jacket.

His heart is racing, but well, in for a penny, in for a pound, and he grabs handfuls of tomatoes, making a container of sorts out of the front of his T-shirt, and then he's peeking around the door. The corridor is deserted and he walks quickly away.

He ducks into an empty room and eats them as fast as he can and they are too tart and bitter and wonderful.

He rezips the jacket and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, licks his hands clean. He shudders as he does it, remembering licking other hands, the laughter of his tormentors. Fear sweat has left him feeling uncomfortable and not clean. He needs to be clean, he needs it, he needs it and now he has no time to go to the showers. He promises himself that he will go later, when he is done with working. Kiva has not ordered him to work sixteen or more hour days, he's done it to keep his mind busy and he has always done that when faced with other horrible things in his life. Gloria's illness, her death, failing to find the Ninth Chevron solution. Today he will take time to go to the showers before being locked in his room.

He jogs to shield emitter two and removes the control panel near the floor. He is sitting staring at it, tracing wiring patterns with his eyes, when Calvos arrives with tools.

Calvos looks down at him and says, “By Hathor's tits, you're a flexible one. I couldn't sit that way and look half as comfortable.”

He doesn't know what to say to that observation, so he just shrugs and waits for Calvos to put down the tool box.

“I can see that you'll do well at riding cocks, Dinn, being so limber. I'm going to enjoy you that way when it's my turn.”

Rush feels his stomach lurch at that. He tells himself to not throw up; he needs those nutrients and calories.

He keeps his eyes down, breathing slowly and carefully, and Calvos goes on to talk about the things he usually likes to expound upon; the age of the ship and its barely tapped potential due to the damage from battles and worn out parts; bemoaning the tools and supplies that never made it through the gate; what secrets and power will be unlocked by Destiny.

Rush never says a word to him about any of it. He's never been one to join in idle chitchat while working, as the Science Team well knows, to their collective chagrin. Perhaps he's not been the most tactful at requesting they take their inane chatter somewhere other than his vicinity.

He wouldn't mind it so much now, if things could ever go back to normal. But he doesn't think they ever will.
* * *

 

There are disadvantages to not having Koz escorting him to his work station and to his quarters. The other Lucians mostly ignored him when Koz was his guard. But now... He learns to avoid the corridors when there are groups of Lucians walking together. They keep to the letter of Kiva's law, true. They don't touch him. Instead they force him to move backwards until he's pressed back against Destiny's walls. They enjoy recounting how he'd cried for them. How they'd pissed on him. How he'd pissed himself.

He is trapped again when he is sent to check a power relay and he recognizes two of them; they've harassed him before.

These men are loud and boisterous when they corner him. His only defense is to be silent while they laugh at him, describing what they'll make him do.

“He can walk; Kiva should let us have him again,” one of them grumbles.

The complainer is slapped on the back of the head by one of the other thugs. “Fool. Do not voice dissent against Kiva's rulings. She'll reach down your throat and pull your balls up and make you swallow them back down.”

The other three erupt in laughter, then turn back to him.

“Kresh'ta, you can suck my cock.”

“Me, I'll make him piss himself again. And then I'll drench him myself before I let him put his mouth on my precious jewels.”

A sputter of amusement from one of them. “Your precious jewels, my ass. But for my turn, I'll fuck his hole.”

“When Kiva allows,” a new voice says. Varro shoves at the four men. “You have time to waste, soldiers? Report to Dannic in the gate room.”

The others leave and Varro sighs and pulls him away from the wall. “Go. And learn to not attract attention, Dinn. Be more like your namesake.”

Varro walks away and Rush pulls himself together. Varro is right. He has to be more wary when he has to walk the corridors.

 

* * *

Three days since he last ate in the prisoner's holding cell, and Kiva announces on shipboard communications that the short rations have been cut in half. Brody gives him an apologetic look after going to the mess and returning, but says nothing. He doesn't bring a bowl partly filled with paste this time, so Rush assumes he was no longer allowed to take it from the mess or go to the still.

Yesterday evening Brody hadn't made eye contact with him, just parked the cup three quarters filled with his dreadful moonshine and the small bowl of protein mash near him and had not said a word to him.

It was kind of Brody to do that and even more of a blessing that he hadn't insisted Rush talk to him.

What can he say to him? That he's so terrified of going into the mess that his body rebels and he feels like he's dying of a heart attack until he runs away?

Afraid someone would come and take Brody's gift from him, he'd gobbled down the mush before knocking back the moonshine in three gulps; he felt his thoughts become fuzzy as the alcohol hit his blood stream and found that he just didn't give a fuck.

Brody's terrible booze made him feel flushed and warm. It had been rather nice, being that vague and unable to be much concerned about anything.

After a while, though, he'd stumbled to a bench along the wall and slept for who knows how long. Ginn had allowed it, thank fuck.

It had been stupid to do that, he scolded himself when he woke up with a headache. He vaguely remembered Eli pushing him onto his side and telling him it was safe to go to sleep, that he wouldn't be left alone. He's a good lad, Eli is, and if he could get the words past his throat Rush would thank him.

Volker was the only one of the crew in the control interface room, aside from the guards, when Rush pushed himself to his unsteady feet. Their eyes met and Volker flushed.

It's Rush who turns away, though, goes to a console along the wall and goes back to work after he guzzles what's left of his water. He rubs the back of his stiff neck and shoulder and pretends Volker isn't standing there at his own console and hasn't seen Rush pathetically pass out, like some wino on a park bench.

* * *

“Hey,” Volker says as he leans close to grab Rush's water bottle from its perch, and fuck, Rush had been absorbed in his work and had apparently wiped Volker's existence in the room from his mind a little too thoroughly, because bloody hell, he didn't notice him approaching and now his heart thinks he's running a marathon. He loses his balance from startling like that and starts to fall off his stool; Volker grabs him with his free hand and fuck, he's got a stronger grip than Rush would have imagined, as he prevents Rush from tumbling to the floor.

“Whoah!” Volker says, and he's close enough that Rush can smell him and he's trapped between the body behind him and the console. “Don't move!” He waits a long few moments, one arm wrapped around Rush's side before letting go.

Rush stays still and hates himself for doing so. Fucking Volker has just given him an order and his body obeyed without any input from him.

“Hey, umm,” Volker says awkwardly and Rush shifts around and glances at him. The man's face is red again, and he's twisting Rush's water bottle over and over in his hands. “I didn't mean to scare you like that. I was just going to give you some of my water.”

He must look perplexed, because Volker goes on stumbling out an explanation. “Ah, I know Brody – well, he meant well, but that was, you know, we know you're not that much of a drinker, and the way you got so loopy so fast, the alcohol had to hit you pretty hard. Brody said if he knew you were going to guzzle it like that he would only have given you one shot's worth, and uh...”

Before he'd met Kiva, he'd have cut Volker off by now and demanded a short, coherent explanation out of him. He just listens now to the man ramble. He surreptitiously checks on the guards and yes, they're watching them from across the room. Marvelous. They're attracting unwanted attention.

Thank fuck Volker finally seems to find his words. “I was giving you some of my water to counteract the dehydration effect of the booze. That's all.”

Rush glances at him again. God, even Volker feels sorry for him, although it's not the first time the man thought Rush was an idiot at taking care of himself. During his attempt to help him understand the loss of power when the ship was going dark during those first days on Destiny, he'd made it clear that he thought Rush needed to get some sleep.

Well, yes, as it turned out, that was a fair fucking point.

Volker walks away with the water bottle and pours some of his own allotment of water into Rush's bottle, then comes back and hands it to him.

Their fingers touch and then, Volker's blushing again.

Does Volker want to fuck him? He pulls away from him as much as he can, perched on the stool like this, which is to say, not far enough. Volker looks stricken. “Hey, I'm not… I'm not going to hurt you, Dinn.”

Is he like Koz? Does he think he can fuck Rush so nicely that he'll enjoy it even if he doesn't want to be touched, to be handled, to be made to fucking come against his will?

He can't ask those questions of Volker. It's all he can do to whisper, “Thank you for the water,” and hope like hell that Volker will let him go back to work now.

“You're welcome,” Volker says, and there's this intense look of pity on his face, vying with the embarrassment.

He goes back to work, to analyzing the power grid, sussing out the weak spots where maintenance is required, and if he sometimes can tell that Volker is staring at him, he pretends not to notice.

* * *

 

It's been three days now since he stopped eating with Colonel Young in the prisoners' area; he's only had that small amount of mush from Brody and the tomatoes he stole, plus whatever calories resided in the moonshine. He doesn't require as much food as the larger crew members, being short and built lightly, but that's not sufficient even for him. He feels like he's starving to death.

That evening Koz gives him a handful of dark chewy things that look a little like large raisins but taste like smoke and fungus. The Lucians must have brought them, because he's never seen them before and every crew member is painfully aware of every item of food Becker has ever served.

“You must go to the mess, Dinn,” he scolds as he drops the fungus pieces one by one into Rush's cupped, waiting hands. “I can't spare you any more rations after tonight.”

Rush shakes his head. Doesn't Koz realize that if he could go in to that hellhole then he would? It's not like he enjoys starving.

He eats half of them immediately, puts the rest in his upper jacket pocket.

Koz steps closer to him, and Rush looks down at the floor. “I think you are stubborn, Dinn. Listen. We have a saying on my world. Hunger masters all. When you are starving, you'll agree to anything. Eventually even to crawling to the mess, if you are too weak to walk to claim your share of the rations.”

Rush shudders at the thought of going inside the mess, at seeing the table again. Do people actually sit there and eat, he wonders.

“Dinn,” Koz says, and Rush looks up.

“I have been generous to you, but tomorrow things change. No more gifts of food. But there is another way. If you will not go to claim your meal, then several of my friends would scrape a little of their meal into a bowl for you to eat where you like, if you will barter back.”

Barter? he thinks. What have I got to barter? Then he understands and sucks in a breath. He says softly, “It's not time yet.”

“I know. You're still not to be touched, Varro says, but you can touch yourself and we will watch. It will make us hungry for the day you can be taken again. Varro has approved it.”

He shakes his head. Touch himself? Take off his clothes while a bunch of these Lucians watch and catcall him and... No. No, he's not that hungry. He'll never be that hungry.

“Your thoughts are easy to read, Dinn. You don't think you'll ever agree to our barter, but you're wrong. Hunger masters all.It has mastered you before, or have you put from your mind what you did on the table?”

He'd begged for cocks to be put in his mouth so they would grant him the privilege of licking food from their hands. He shakes his head. No. He hasn't forgotten; he'll never forget it unless he can sit in the chair. He'd rather be taken by Destiny than by the Alliance again. He hears Young's voice in his head, Just don't do it, whatever loophole you figured out. Stay alive.

Koz looks around, then tugs gently on a wayward strand of Rush's hair, tucks it behind his ear, and says, “It will master you again, like the Alliance has mastered you and your people. It's what the Alliance does, how it survives and grows.”

Koz steps back, touches his own chest. “I wasn't born to the Alliance. I converted. My entire clan joined them so we would not starve. Our crops were burned when the Alliance first came through the gate, ringed down from their ships. My clan survived, like you and the Tau'ri crew will learn to survive, by acknowledging our strength and joining with us. There are no Tau'ri ships to rescue you. Adapt, and survive.”

It could take weeks still for his program to give him the code needed to unlock Destiny's systems.

Adapt or survive, he thinks. Koz isn't wrong, but maybe he can come up with another way to adapt. Hydroponics is more heavily guarded since the discovery of his theft of tomatoes, he can't risk going back there. He has to find another way.

* * *

His will is stronger than his body, or so he hopes. But his thoughts drift away and he finds himself holding tools or staring at a console, not sure of what he was trying to accomplish. He feels irritable, which he struggles to suppress. He simply can't afford to let his temper fly, not now. He daydreams about bangers and mash, Gloria's favorite comfort food, and other dishes he's enjoyed from his childhood and adult life.

Koz gives him nothing anymore. He's eaten all the rest of the smoky mushroomy things, slowly, one at a time, chewing each one as long as he can stand it.

Later, he has another full blown panic attack outside the mess, when he tries again to force himself to go in. His breathing turns faster and faster and he can't make himself slow down. It feels like all his chest muscles have turned to concrete, and his heart is thumping frantically. He has to escape, he has to run, he thinks. His mouth is dry, and he is sweating. He comes to away from the mess, in another corridor, and can't remember passing out.

Kiva is watching him. “Get up,” she says. He complies, feeling dizzy. She says, “Perhaps I should have you dragged into the mess, if you can not manage it on your own.”

He says nothing and keeps his eyes down. He prays she will not order him to look at her. He's paralyzingly afraid of what she'll see.

“Not yet,” she says. “But soon, if you don't take Koz's offer.”

He startles and glances up briefly before directing his glance downwards again, as if Destiny's floors needed all of his attention.

Kiva takes a fistful of his hair and tugs on it. “My word is good and your Colonel Young kept his end of the bargain for your life. You aren't allowed to change that as long as I have use for you, so you will eat, one way or the other. But you'll be punished, Kresh'ta, if I have to force you to the mess. Now go. Report back to Ginn.”

He nods and walks away as fast as he can manage. He tries to not think about what Kiva would do to him for punishment. He is not successful. He thinks about Koz's offer of barter. How he usually decides between two terrible choices is not helpful right now. There is no greater good to weigh, just himself.

With Koz as his escort he'd only been permitted one shower a day, but since he's been allowed to walk on his own he's used them several times daily. It helps, to be outwardly clean. He ducks into an empty shower room and hurriedly undresses, grateful to be alone.

The warm mist condenses on his skin, less and less bruised now, and he runs a hand down his side. He's losing weight. He wishes he'd stashed away food back when it was more plentiful. Sergeant Spencer had done it, probably others as well. Spencer had been found out, during the search for the supposed water thief, before they'd realized it was tiny alien bugs sucking up their supply.

He thinks about that, wonders if all of Spencer's hoard had been discovered. He certainly hadn't seen anything lying about when he'd gone into the sergeant's room after hearing a gunshot. After discovering Spencer's body, Greer had conducted a search of the room, and the man would have been thorough. He'd found nothing. But Spencer might have made a second, more private hiding spot for any new items he might have pilfered after the slap on the hands he received the first time.

It's worth looking for, he decides, drying off and pulling his clothes back on. Spencer's quarters, like his, were in a section a fair distance from the others. There had only been three of the crew on the corridor, himself, Spencer, and Rivers. Now it was only him. He'd search the other rooms, see if Spencer had hidden any more power bars, or dried fruit, anything really.

Brody and Volker are working at a side monitor when he steals into the control interface room. Brody gives him an impassive look, and Volker blushes again when he catches sight of him, looks away. Rush ignores them both.

He goes to the main console, the applecore, as some moron has named it, and the nickname has stuck. Even the Lucians call it that and he rather doubts any of them have seen an apple in their lives. Maybe the ones who'd taken him from Earth have had the pleasure.

He finds himself obsessing on the texture of a crisp apple, the bite of tartness and sweetness.

Ginn is nervous, bites her lip quite often as they work. The reason why becomes obvious when Dannic comes in and demands that she find them a planet now. From his comments, he'd been there earlier and had expressed his displeasure with their lack of progress.

He feels a surge of annoyance, having been in her position more than once. Bloody ignorant soldiers, with no understanding of the complexities of what they ask for, as if shouting for a scientist to come up with a solution will suddenly produce it out of thin air.

The lass tries to explain again that Destiny chooses when to stop, not the other way around, and Dannic roars at her that if that's the case, what use is she?

He puts one hand around her throat and squeezes. It's not enough to strangle her, but he's hurting her and she makes a terrified squeak. He wants to help her, but then Dannic will turn his attentions to him, and he well remembers what the man is capable of doing.

The rest of the guards are useless, although they give each other uneasy looks.

Varro or Kiva are the only ones capable of stopping Dannic. He has no idea where they are and of course he doesn't have a radio. The guards aren't using theirs, so he turns on shipwide broadcasting and allows Dannic's threats to choke the life out of Ginn to be heard throughout the ship.

He triggers an alarm. It's just a test, but Dannic won't know that. Brody shoots him a look that he ignores. This is all he can do. It would be suicidal and pointless to attack Dannic. It wouldn't save Ginn and would probably result in his own death or at least serious injury.

The loud piercing shriek of the alarm stops Dannic from choking Ginn and he throws her to the floor.

“Fix that!” Dannic roars at him, and he nods submissively and stalls, pretending to check systems. Ginn pulls herself back to her feet and staggers over to his console. He steps back and lets her turn off the alarm. She knows it was just a test, but she tells Dannic as she returns to her own console that the number two shield emitter is fluxing. It's a believable lie. The bloody thing is touchy and been adjusted back to normal specs a number of times already.

Kiva's voice comes through on the radio, and Dannic responds. He glares around the room at all of them as he tells Kiva he'll meet her in her quarters. Rush steps back to the monitor and does meaningless busy work so he can unobtrusively turn off broadcasting.

Dannic gives Ginn once last intimidating stare, and she swallows convulsively and touches her neck, where the pressure marks of his fingers can be seen. He points to Brody and Volker and tells them to go fix the shield emitter. They leave, Brody carrying a tool box, and Dannic waves a guard to go with them.

Rush is keeping his head down, staying quiet, but that doesn't save him from Dannic grabbing him by his hair and slamming his face down on the console several times before striding out of the room. Pain explodes and he feels dizzy and leans against the console.

He touches his forehead and his fingers come back covered in blood.

That's the last thing he sees as his vision tunnels down into blackness.

* * *

When he comes to, he's lying on his side on one of the benches that line the control interface room and Ginn is holding a cloth to his head, kneeling on the floor.

“Thank you,” she whispers to him, and he feels confused for a moment, then he remembers Dannic had been here in one of his murderous moods. He looks for the guards and sees them on the other side of the room. “Chloe is coming with a med kit.”

He closes his eyes. He doesn't want to see Chloe, see the concern and tears in her eyes. He's managed to avoid her so far. He remembers her sobbing loudly when they first held him down. On the table. He hopes she closed her eyes for most of it, but knowing Kiva's penchant for creative tormenting, he doubts she'd allowed that.

“Dinn,” Ginn whispers. “There's something I need to tell you. Maybe it will help to know this. The food you were given when you were...” she falters, and then, sounding like she's forcing herself to say it, “when you were being raped, it was drugged. In composition it's close to Kassa, but not as addictive. It's a sex drug, makes you respond to being touched. It makes you climax. You couldn't help it when they – we-- I-- stimulated you. I'm so sorry.”

He shoves as much of his fist as he can into his mouth, not sure at all what he's feeling. Is he grateful to know this? To know that even more of the control he had over his body had been taken from him? To have an excuse for looking like he'd enjoyed what they'd done to him?

She touches him on his shoulder, leaning over him, and he's on the table, and he's shamed beyond belief, and he tries to scramble away and he's grabbed as he tries to escape and he's being held down and he's screaming, oh, God, he screams and screams and screams and he fights them off, he tries, he's trying so hard, then he's free and he's fallen off the table and crawling away.

They block the open doorway when he staggers to his feet, these Lucians in their leather clothing, like some space biker gang, pointing guns at him, and he's scrambling backwards toward the applecore and looking for a weapon, something he can use to defend himself to take these bastards out, to take them all out, to keep them off of him!

He finds nothing and he pats down his jacket frantically, looking for something to use to keep them away from him and then he remembers the screwdriver he's hidden in the cuff and he pulls his hand up into the jacket sleeve, and he can feel it, and, and... he's feeling confused, he's... He's wearing Young's jacket. The jacket that Young had tied around him and he is wearing clothes, and they took his clothes from him; he'd been naked until Young had given him his black jacket and he touches the name tag. He's, he's not in the mess.

He's not in the mess, but there are Lucians here and they have guns pointed straight at him.

“Get down on your knees and put your hands on your head,” one of them says, and he obeys, panting, and still feeling confused and so, so tired. He feels blood dripping down his face.

“Do you know where you are?” the red-headed girl asks, dropping down on her knees in front of him, and he nods.

“What's my name?” she says and she looks upset. Did he hurt her?

“Ginn,” he answers, very quietly.

“What's your name?” she comes back with and that wild laughter wants to break free again. Well, that's a bit more difficult to parse out, then, isn't it?

“You call me Dinn,” he hedges with. It's not the name Kiva christened him with and it's not the name his family called him when he was a wean, and it's not the name he had been known by on this ship and it's not the name Gloria and Mandy called him. It's not Nicky, or Doctor Rush, or Nick or Nicholas. It's not the outcast name of Kresh'ta.

“Do you know what just happened?”

He shrugs, and his eyes flick over to where the bloody rag is draped on the bench.

“Yes, you were on the bench; you fainted after Dannic hurt you. Then you went a little crazy,” Ginn says.

“I... forgot where I was,” he says finally, and Ginn leans closer to hear his quiet words. He flinches again and she pulls back, looking upset.

He hears Varro's voice in the corridor and the guards step away.

Varro comes in with Chloe. He listens as Ginn describes what happened with Dannic and how Rush had acted after he came to on the bench. Like a demented person, apparently. Well, that's just fine, isn't it. Will it happen again, he wonders.

He avoids looking at Chloe. “He had a flashback,” she says. “It's not his fault. Let him up and let me check his injuries.”

“He defied the guards, and Ginn,” Varro says.

“No, he didn't,” Chloe snaps back, and she sounds stubborn and he's afraid for her. He looks at her, willing her to be silent, but Chloe crosses her arms instead.

“Then explain,” Varro says.

“Ginn triggered him, I think. She said she touched him and leaned over him and in his mind he was back in the mess, on that horrible table, and he was only trying to get away. We call them flashbacks; I've seen them before, when I visited VA hospitals with my father. It's not something you can control.”

“My brother had them after his Goa'uld master was killed and he returned home to us,” one of the guards volunteers. “The smell of certain herbs would trick him into thinking he was back with that monster. I agree with the Tau'ri girl. Dinn should not be punished, Varro.”

Varro waves Chloe towards him and says, “Treat him, and then return to the infirmary. Tamara has need of you.”

Chloe moves towards him at a snail's pace and slowly extends a hand down. He doesn't want to take it, so he staggers to his feet by himself. She makes a face, and he's relieved that she hasn't burst into tears at the sight of him. She looks faintly annoyed instead and it relaxes him. She says, a little tartly, “You helped me up, when you took me out of the Nakai tank. It's okay to let me return the favor.”

He rolls his eyes at her, but wavers on his feet, he's that unsteady, and she pulls his arm over her shoulder and walks him back to the bench. She's not limping from being shot in the leg and he wonders about that.

She treats the cut, shines a light in his eyes, wraps a blood pressure monitor around his wrist, moves his arm so it crosses his chest. His head throbs. Varro has left, the guards have put their weapons back into holsters, and Ginn is working at a console. Chloe answers his unspoken question. “TJ has been teaching me and Lisa a few things. She's in labor, by the way.” She frowns when she sees the reading, and takes it again.

“Breathe out,” she says, and he does so. The daft girl smells his breath and says, “Okay, TJ's got some power bars for medical emergencies. You're in ketoacidosis and you need to eat right away.” She rummages in the large bag she'd dropped on the bench and hands him two power bars and a large bottle of water. He sips from it and looks askance at the bottle. “It's an electrolyte solution. Like Gator-aid, only it doesn't taste as good. Drink it, you need it, and eat those.”

His hands shake as he peels the paper wrapping from the bars, and he eats them slowly, taking sips of the solution in between bites. They are the most marvelous thing he's ever tasted.

“How was Matt?” Chloe asks, very quietly. “How was Greer and the Colonel and Vanessa when you last saw them?”

Cold, he thinks, hungry, dirty. Frustrated at being kept like animals in a cage. Worried about you and the other civilians.

“Doing their best,” he whispers back to her. “Your boy misses you.”

She makes a soft choking sound and he puts his hand over hers.

* * *

Chapter 7: Depredation

People come and go from the control interface room, Eli, Chen, Brody, Volker, Boone, Park, Jasor, Calvos, Morrison. It's a busy place, and Ginn is becoming desperate enough to find a planet they can scavenge for food that she's considering deliberately disabling the FTL engines. She's asked the scientists to work the problem, to see if they can find a planet in the database that will meet their needs, and drop out within shuttle range. It's extremely unclear if the countdown clock will engage if the engines are down. Fixing them would be tricky, to say the least. Such a plan is fraught with problems. It's a gamble, of course. If they just hold on, Destiny will eventually stop at a planet with a working gate that they can gather food on.

Ginn has relented her previous policy of not allowing him into the database or to communicate with the ship via coding. No one has found a planet yet, so now he's been designated to search the database, and he does have the most expertise with Ancient. If he is wrong, if he chooses a planet that is not what they need, he suspects Dannic will kill him.

He keeps his head down, doesn't participate in the sometimes heated arguments about Ginn's plan. To his bemusement, his usual role of pointing out the negative aspects, the risks, the probability of deaths resulting from this plan is taken up by the others.

They'd all been quite content to let him bring up the hard truths with the Colonel, let him shoulder the man's outrage over pointing out it was better to only lose one of them, not both, when Lieutenant Scott had been trapped in the ice. Or that more hostages and crew would die taking back the ship from Kiva.

Interesting, but not relevant to the current problem.

There is one fairly suitable planet that will be in range in three days. Ginn and Eli have both missed it. He studies the information sent back from the seed ship that had passed this way ages ago. The planet is not going to be locked out, not from the data he's reading, but whether or not the gate is still functioning is questionable.

He queries Destiny, and no one can do this as well as he can. Not Eli, or the Science Team, not Ginn, or the Lucian scientists. He asks the ship to stop at the planet no matter what the status of the gate is; he has been telling Destiny all along how short of resources they are, and she has rescued them before.

He hopes Destiny will save them now, because blowing one of the FTL engines is perilous. They will hang in space till the engine is repaired, if it even can be repaired, and he's fair sure that Mandy won't be allowed to come on board this time to save their necks. They left the Nakai behind, but he knows those obsessed aliens are still looking for the ship. They could catch up to them again, wear the shields down, and board them. Without being able to jump away to safety, they'll be helpless soon enough.

His head still aches, and he's very tired. It seems like he's exhausted from the moment he wakes up, if he did manage to sleep for a few hours before nightmares send him clawing his way back to consciousness and sometimes throwing up anything he has in his stomach. Mostly it's just bile, and it's a foul way to wake up. He's not had any real rest since he stopped drinking Johansen's green brew.

He's aware he should ask her for more of it, or some version anyway. He can do without the painkiller that had been added to it. He's not walked himself into the infirmary, though. The medication takes away his choice to sleep.

He's sick of not having autonomy, enough that he'll take the sleepless nights.

“Dinn?” the girl asks, her eyes worried. “Have you found anything?”

The compulsion to answer her kicks in before he can censor himself.

“Yes,” he says, almost inaudibly, and feels despair rising at his inability to not respond to direct inquiries. He'd wanted to keep this secret, at least for a while. Hug the knowledge to his chest, because knowledge is power, and maybe he would have found a way to lever this into an advantage.

He'd felt that compulsion to let out words he would have kept to himself with the Colonel, too, but that had only felt surprising. He found he didn't mind the Colonel's questions.

He decides not to analyze why that would be the case.

After sending Ginn the data, he watches as the others crowd around the console. Calvos asks him if the ship will stop there and he shrugs. Calvos narrows his eyes at him and Rush explains enough about asking Destiny to stop within shuttle range if the gate is not functioning to satisfy him and the rest of that lot.

They're all still debating the problem, reading out loud the planet's specs, debating how the red dwarf star will influence the vegetation when an alarm goes off.

He jumps when it does and then realizes that it's the smokescreen he set up to mask that his program has found the master code and it's crashing all the system consoles.

He waves nonchalantly at Ginn as he shuts it down, hoping his expression conveys that it was nothing to concern herself with, that he's handled it as he's handled so many other problems. The consoles unfreeze and go back to normal status.

She smiles at him, so relieved at his news about the planet that she takes his actions at face value. He volunteers that he reset the number three and four air purifiers alarms and they've got another month to change it out with fresh chemicals. It feels odd to say more than three or four words at a time. Brody notices and nudges Volker. Rush hopes they don't take that as an invitation to talk with him and he drops his eyes back to the console. Thank fuck they don't say anything to him.

He's afraid if Ginn asks what that alarm was about, he'll tell her the truth. Better to say the lie first, then, and hope it satisfies her.

He memorizes the master code and deletes his program from the databank.

Tonight, he's going to open his locked door and find out what the code is hiding.

 

* * *

Most of the rest of the science staff, Lucians included, have gone to the mess. He follows behind them for a time, and they continue their spirited discussion on what their priorities will be if Destiny stops at this upcoming planet. Then he quietly drops back further and further and not a one of them notices. He's fair sure that if asked later, they'll all swear Dinn had come to the mess with them.

He heads toward the showers. He is anxious, jittery, and he can't run down the corridors as he used to do in better days when he felt ready to jump out of his skin. The Lucians would probably shoot him. He pulls Young's jacket tighter around himself. He needs to feel clean. He thinks he'll wash his clothes first this time. They'll be mostly dry when he's finished showering.

He hears voices from the cross corridor and flattens himself against the wall. It's better to not be noticed. Colonel Telford walks along, joking with two Lucians. From their conversation it's obvious he's not a prisoner anymore; he's either been brainwashed again or he's decided to throw his lot in with the Lucians. Be a collaborator.

It's bound to happen with some of the others before too long. Especially once Kiva decides what to do with the military. Kiva will reward crew members who inform on their former shipmates, when it becomes clear that there will be no retaking of the ship by Young's people. It will come down to survival.

Right now, he supposes the civilians are remembering their own futile mutiny against the military, how easily their rebellion had been crushed. They might be waiting to see the same thing happen now, with these intruders. They haven't seen what Rush has seen, how little food the military has been getting all along in their cells. They will do their best, but a lot of them are going to be killed if they rush their guards.

Kiva is more ruthless than Young, but he'll get there in the end, decide that losses on their side will have to be accepted.

Rush knows Kiva, though. She has been stringing the military along, waiting for something to occur that will keep them cooperative. He can't imagine what it is, though.

Telford and his friends walk by without noticing him and he wonders if Telford will ask to fuck him again. He shivers thinking about what Ginn told him about that sex drug. It does explain why he came despite being in such pain.

He doesn't dare hope that the master code will save him from ever feeling its effects again.

When he is certain the cross corridor is empty, he makes his way to the showers. He needs to feel clean.

 

* * *

 

He is almost too tired to think, so after his shower he goes to his quarters, a kino falling in behind him as he walks slowly down the dim empty corridors, the curved walls giving him the feeling of being in a tunnel. His door is open when he arrives and the kino waits for him to enter his small room; after he does the doors lock together without his once having touched the controls.

It's practical, it's pragmatic, it's being realistic, making this choice to rest and sleep now. He'll wake up hours later, refreshed, or so he hopes, and when most of the Lucians and the crew are asleep, he'll play scavenger hunt with Destiny.

He doesn't bother to undress, just wraps up in his comforter and tucks his cold bare feet together, and closes his eyes.

Of course sleep won't come for him, now that he's invited it. That's nothing new, but it's very irritating just the same.

He does five hundred of those internal muscles exercise Lieutenant Johansen told him to do. He imagines that he's back in the shower, alone, feeling warm and clean and safe.

That helps, and he's starting to feel drowsy, not just exhausted. His mind though, jumps to thinking about what will happen to him after two more weeks of Lucian occupation.

Will he be given a schedule, told to report to whichever Alliance member was given permission to fuck him that day? Will he have to stay with them in their quarters, or will they come to his? Or will there be a room designated for sex? Will there be more than one a day to service? Will they take him back to the mess, put him back on the table? Will the crew be invited to watch him be fucked again? Will the crew ask for turns also? Kiva would love that, might make that part of an initiation ceremony for crew members asking to join the Alliance.

His rapists, will they hurt him besides fuck him, fuck his mouth? Burn him, shock him with the pain sticks they liberated from the Goa'uld? Cut him with knives, hit him with their fists? Tie him up, tie him down?

Make him like it, like Koz has been promising him?

That would be the worst thing that could possibly happen, and if they find a way to make him enjoy being raped, he thinks he'll truly go insane. Retreat to a place in his beleaguered mind and never, ever return. He'd visited there, after hours and hours of being on the table, and in a way it's a very beckoning option.

But none of this will happen, he reminds himself. He's just being a child, scaring himself with nightmare talk. He's got a way out, if the master code is useless for him, if he can't get to the chair for Destiny to pull him out a corporeal state and transform him into code.

He's got his sharp, lethal little screwdriver and he pulls it free from its hiding place that he made in Young's jacket cuff, and he holds it in his hand. He rubs a thumb up and down it, in a soothing cadence, like counting off prayers on a rosary, and he's finally able to relax and fall asleep.

* * *

 

He opens his door and checks the corridor for kinos or any Lucians, and it's still quiet and dim and deserted. He leaves his room, and heads for one of the elevators although that's not really a very comprehensive term because they travel laterally as well as horizontally. Destiny would have a system in place so that these travel cars wouldn't crash into each other. The Ancients designed their systems with safety in mind. Redundancy is built into every inch of the ship, and he's fair sure that's why Destiny has survived all these years.

He knows this ship better than anyone does, and he chooses a route that will keep him out of sight of kinos or Lucians. There's a life signs detector program that only he knows about, the Lucians' science people haven't found it, and there had been no pressing need to share that information with the Science Team or with Young as he's sure locating his whereabouts would be the primary reason it would be used. Not that he's been up to the nefarious agenda Colonel Young always seems to think he has. Not usually, at any rate. The Colonel should understand, actually. He's hidden himself away at times, but then he balances that with ridiculous amounts of socializing with the crew. He's finally given up on trying to get Rush to join their impromptu little parties, thank fuck.

It's just the way he's made, and to transform the nervous buzzing in his head into useful work he requires time away by himself to think and he always has; there's a unused hallway where he likes to work out problems on the walls in peace and quiet. Mostly it's urgent problems with the ship that he scrawls on Destiny's smooth metal, but sometimes he'll take a look at other unsolved problems to unwind. P=NP, thinking about L functions and Z functions. Yang-Mills theory. Riemann zeros.

He's almost to a section where several corridors come together and an elevator car is waiting when he thinks he hears something. He looks around, but sees nothing. He's cautious as he walks down the halls, close to the wall, ready to duck into an empty room if need be. The doors are all open along this hall way. More crew quarters, a meeting room of sorts, a few rooms with consoles.

He hears it as he passes an open doorway, a muffled scream, and he whirls around in time to recognize Simeon before a fist knocks him backwards. He hits the deck and can't move, he's dazed, and then he's pulled into the room and there's tape being pressed across his mouth and his hands are caught and pulled behind him and more tape wrapped around them. He starts to shake as his head clears. This is not good, this is not good. Simeon is a maverick, and he doubts that Kiva's orders will save him from what Simeon has in mind.

“Kresh'ta,” Simeon says and pulls him up to his feet. “Now I have two birds in my net.” He reaches into an alcove and pulls out a woman, her hands taped together in front of her.

Park has a cloth gag in her mouth, her long dark hair in disarray, and she's been crying. Her clothes are still on, so he must have stumbled upon her and Simeon before he's raped her.

Simeon pulls out a gun and motions them towards the door. “Let's go.”

He herds them into the elevator car and takes them into a more remote part of the ship. He keeps his gun in Park's side, and her eyes are terrified.

Simeon is grinning, and it's an evil, monstrous smirk that Rush has seen before. It's going to happen again and his two weeks of sanctuary that he thought he still had turns out to just be an illusion.

He's got his screwdriver, but he can't use it, not with his hands taped behind his back.

Don't go away, he tells himself fiercely. Don't go to the safe place in his mind where nothing can touch him. Park is here, and she's one of his, one of his science team, and he has to stay focused, stay alert for an opportunity.

They are in a large storage room, with containers in neat stacks. He doesn't think they've explored this room before, but he can't be sure, not with the panic that is trying to take him over. His breathing is fast, and he's afraid he's going to hyperventilate himself right into passing out.

Simeon locks the door, motions for them to move to the back, behind a tall block of crates. He pulls the gag out of Park's mouth and she starts to sob.

“Cry, little bird, little ha'tra,” Simeon says, almost soothingly. “Scream, if you like. No one will hear you, except this one.” He kicks Rush hard in the thigh and he falls prone to the deck. He rolls to his side and looks up. Simeon is pointing the gun at him now.

“Do you want to live, little ha'tra?” He swings the gun towards Park now.

She sobs out a yes to that.

“Do you, Kresh'ta?” Simeon puts his boot between Rush's thighs and nudges at his crotch once, then laughs and orders him to kneel in front of him.

He gets to his knees and bows his head. He doesn't want to live, not if this is going to happen, but he can't leave Park here alone, even if he can't free his screwdriver.

He hears Young's voice in his head. I want you to live. Young is patient; Young would wait, look for an opportunity to turn things around. There are two of them and one of Simeon. He needs to have his hands free.

Simeon rips the tape from his mouth. Rush licks his lips, and whispers, “Yes.”

Laughing, Simeon says, “Beg then. Make it sweet, you cock-sucker. Not so important now, are you?”

No, he thinks, I'm not. Never again. Possibly I never was.

He look up at Simeon through his lashes, and it's not that he's trying to act submissively, he's not trying, God, he's not but his body wants to and he has to fight to not let it be real. It's an act, only an act, he lies to himself.

He licks his lips again, slowly, and what the fuck does he know about acting seductively? He's not a flirt, has never been one, and the nuances of such things usually fly over his head.

His hands, he needs his hands to be free.

“Please,” he settles on, “Please, I'll make it good for you, and you can have me anytime; Kiva doesn't have to know.”

Simeon takes the gun and runs it down Rush's jawline.

“A bargain, then. You'll suck me, Kresh'ta, and if you get hard doing it, then you can live.”

A tidal wave of horror drags him under, because how, how can he feel the least bit aroused by this?

He must look as stricken as he feels because Simeon chuckles at him. “This is better than what I planned, with her on the bed in that room.”

Simeon puts his gun behind his back and unbuttons the sweater Park is wearing, then the blouse until both are hanging free and her pink bra is exposed. It closes in the front and he manipulates the fastenings until it, too, is hanging off her shoulders and her breasts are freed. Rush doesn't want to see this, but he has to watch Simeon, has to look for any chance. He mentally apologizes to Park for seeing her being degraded.

Simeon takes her breasts in his hands and squeezes them and Park is sobbing loudly now. “What about you, woman? If you tell Varro or Kiva that I took you earlier than they've planned to give you away as a prize, then I will find you and kill you. I'll make it look like an accident.”

Park bobs her head up and down. “I won't tell,” she chokes out.

“Good,” Simeon says and looks down at Rush. “All I want right now is your mouth. You get hard, then you live. Then I'll fuck her, then you, and I want to see you come with my dick up your ass, you little whore.”

Simeon reaches into his pocket and brings out a small flat container and opens it. He wets his little finger and dips it into the powder and sucks it off, smirking down at Rush, and suddenly it clicks for him what that must be. The sex drug Ginn told him about. Simeon is dosing himself so he can have staying power.

Rush swallows, because this is so, so debasing, but he leans his face against Simeon's thigh and asks, in a strangled voice, “Please? Can I kiss you? Please?”

Simeon pulls him up and then tugs Park closer to him. They're all touching each other but he doesn't look at her, just tilts his face up towards Simeon and tries to look like he's dying to be kissed.

He must be spectacularly unsuccessful, because Simeon snorts, and the look on his face is amused and knowing, but he crushes Rush closer and plunders his mouth.

This is what he wanted, this is what he wanted, what he needs, he tells himself and forces his mouth to open wide, uses his tongue to explore Simeon's mouth, hot and wet, licking at the other man's tongue, the inside of his cheeks, along his lips.

He does it for as long as he can stand it, but when he tries to pull away, Simeon won't let him. He keeps their mouths fused together, and Rush can't help it, he begins to whimper into Simeon's mouth. The man's arm is a vice around him and maybe he could fight his way free, he's thin, yes, but he's strong, but that's not part of the plan.

The tears that start overflowing from his eyes aren't either. Simeon lets him get a breath, and licks the tears off his face. “Dinn, your tears are sweet,” he says, and kisses him again, hard, like the fucking space pirate raider that he is, taking what he wants, and Rush can't stop him. He clenches his fists hard behind his back and concentrates on how he can feel the blood pumping through them, and doesn't fight when Simeon's tongue claims his mouth or when Simeon leaves teeth marks and pain behind on Rush's lower lip when he finally turns him loose.

It's Park's turn then, and Simeon rapes her mouth and her eyes don't close when he's frenching her; she looks at Rush instead, and he doesn't look away this time, although he can see that she doesn't believe he can help her. She doesn't look like she's condemning him for that; he feels her lean into him, a message that he's not sure he can decipher.

Simeon laughs when lets go of them. “The Tau'ri are soft. You and the rest of your people deserve to serve the Alliance.”

He feels Simeon's erection against him before the man's hands on his shoulders forces him to his knees. Simeon takes Park's bound hands and pulls them down to the bulge in his leather trousers and makes her palm it, rubs her hands up and down while she bites her own lip.

Protecting her isn't something he can do, not really, but he does what he can anyway. He pushes her hands away from Simeon's dick with his face, and that must really be funny to the other man because he lets him stake a claim by mouthing Simeon's dick through the leather while dark chuckles rumble above him.

“Greedy boy,” Simeon says and lets go of Park to unfasten his trousers and pull out his dick. “Lick it.”

He does, tears still running down his face, and the taste of cock makes him panic, makes him breathe too fast.

He doesn't know how long he can stand to do this, to move his mouth and tongue and lips on his own, so when he gets to the tip of Simeon's penis he take the whole thing in his mouth. Simeon lets out a curse, sounding pleasured, sounding pleased.

He makes it slide out of his mouth, like he couldn't hold onto it. He again takes it back in, goes up and down on it a few times and then lets it fall out of his mouth again.

“Rush,” Simeon growls, displeased and this time the man guides his cock into Rush's mouth with his own hand. Simeon goes back to fondling Park's breasts and just as he's pinching her nipples Rush makes the damn thing slither out of his mouth again, like a hose with a mind of its own.

He whimpers, like he's a dog that just had a bone taken from him, and Simeon curses in Goa'uld, and produces a knife from somewhere under his jacket and cuts Rush's hands free.

“You lose it again, and you'll be punished,” Simeon says and turns the knife back and forth a few times before making it disappear under his jacket. “Show me your dick.”

He obeys, slipping his hand down into his soft trousers, feeling his penis harden as his hand closes around it and he feels a flush of warmth and something dark and despairing skittering under his skin. He takes his time, using his other hand to push the elastic waistband of the trousers and his boxers under his balls so that his dick is exposed to Simeon's gaze.

The bastard laughs when he sees that Rush is erect. “Leave it like that. I knew you had to have liked what we did to you, Rush. Telford told us you were an arrogant prick, but see what we've uncovered? The real you, and you're nothing but a needy, dirty, slut.”

Simeon grabs Park by her hair, and wraps the strands several times around his fist and forces her to look down.

“Do you agree, little ha'tra?”

“Yes,” Park says, crying harder.

“Say it then, so this piece of shit can hear you.”

“He's a, a needy, slut,” she parrots back to Simeon, and Rush knows she's been forced to say it, that she doesn't mean it, she probably doesn't mean it, but maybe she does, because look at him now, look at what he did when they touched him on the table and was it all the drug? Maybe the drug just opened up something within him, some inhibition lifted, and Simeon is correct and this is really who he is.

“That's right,” Simeon croons. “You're starting to believe it now; I want to hear you say the truth about yourself. Say it right now, Rush.” The bastard shrugs and says, “Kiva's not here, and I like saying your name. I like seeing the flinch that crosses your face when I do it.” He nudges Rush's erection with his boot, and he can't help the shiver that runs through him. “Now say it,” Simeon demands.

“Aye, I'm a needy, dirty slut and I want to suck you off,” he says, improvising that last bit, because he'd rather do that then hear Simeon expound on his character. He hears Glasgow strong in his voice, the way he spoke as a wee boy and young man, and it always comes back when he's stressed.

“Needy boy,” Simeon's tone is smug and vicious and victorious. “Go ahead.” He releases Park's hair and starts fondling her breasts again with both hands. “Make it good, Rush.”

Rush uses his hands to guide Simeon's cock back into his mouth and he cups the man's balls with one hand and with the other he slowly starts inching Simeon's trousers down until there's a canvas of thighs and groin that he can paint with his fingers, arousing the other man.

He intends to drive Simeon straight into such lust that that bastard will be seeing stars and not what Rush is doing with his hands.

He's not sure of how time is working anymore, it seems like that maybe he's been on his knees like this forever, that what he remembers of his life was just a dream, Gloria, the university, teaching, his research, Destiny.

The taste of salt in his mouth, the feel of a hair that wants to make him gag, the rhythmic motions he's making, altering them so that no predictable pattern happens, so that Simeon's breath catches and the muscles of his thighs tighten, he focuses on all of that. He can learn to be good at whatever he turns his hand to, he knows this about himself and is this arrogance? Is that what people see when he uses his mind and talents to be the best he can be? He's failed so many times, it doesn't feel like arrogance when he finally does well. Do they not notice, not see, the fucking hard work he's done? He never claims to be a genius, not like McKay, and he doesn't crow about how awesome he is when a solution comes to him, like Eli. Is it because he doesn't enjoy being in crowded social situations? That he refuses to sit down and make jokes and laugh with Young and his Marines and Airmen, that he'd rather study his notes in the mess than sit with Brody and Volker and put up with their inane pointless quipping back and forth?

His eyes close in despair, and he wishes he was far away. He wishes that Young had never freed him from the prison of water the Nakai had kept him in, that he'd sat in the chair instead of Franklin and become part of Destiny.

He wishes he'd cut open his veins with the screwdriver and bled out into his bed.

I want you to live he hears Young saying in his head. It had sounded like an order, like a plea, like a prayer, like a request, like a wish.

Park is here, he can't abandon her. You abandoned Gloria, he hears his own voice telling him, heavy with judgment and disgust, and he remembers the dream interface with Destiny, holding Gloria's hand, Destiny's hand, as she begged him to be a better man than what he has become.

He will not take the easy way out here. He will not leave Park in Simeon's hands.

He forces his eyes open, sees the freckled skin under his hands, the red grizzled pubic curls and thinks wildly, half crazy maybe, that this proves Simeon is a natural ginger.

Maybe he's going insane.

Glancing upwards, he sees that Simeon is looking at Park, hands stilling on her breasts for a moment as Rush's tongue does clever things to the man's penis, and he's rewarded by a bitter fluid on his tongue. Apparently he has the makings of being an excellent cock sucker, a skill he's learned in the school of pain and fear and he's fucking well close to a Ph.D in it now.

Simeon's balls are tight and drawing up, and Rush readies himself.

It's going to happen, he can feel it, and the penis in his mouth is so hard and round and he glances up again at Simeon's face.

His eyes are shut, and Rush darts out a hand and tugs at Park's trousers. She looks down at him, and he hopes it's enough warning, because Simeon lets out a groan, sounding as tortured as Rush has felt on the table, and he's coming, flooding Rush's mouth with semen and at that moment, when Simeon's attention is totally on the sensations flooding his body, Rush acts.

* * *

Chapter 8: Aegis

He can do this, he can do this, he can do this, Rush chants frantically in his head, giving himself sage advice, and he feels the hard cold deck of this deserted storage room under his knees, hears Park's breath hitching with the sobs she's trying to stifle, and he swallows down what is being pumped into his mouth instead of pulling Simeon's dick out and spitting the semen on the floor. He must not jar Simeon from his dazed orgasm-induced state.

He jams the screwdriver, that fine, small tool that has become his lodestone, into Simeon's groin and rakes it deeply across where his fingers have mapped out Simeon's femoral artery under the guise of arousing touches. He bites down hard on the penis that has invaded his mouth at the same time, hoping that the pain of that will distract Simeon from noticing right away that he's bleeding.

He yanks the screwdriver out as Simeon screams and gives him a ringing blow on the head. He scrambles backwards, freeing Simeon's mutilated dick, and he tastes blood in his mouth.

“Rush!” Simeon yells, furious, “I'm going to kill you!” and he draws his leg back to give a vicious kick and then stumbles. He looks down and Rush knows he's seeing a flood of red dying the skin of his leg and leathers.

A flood, but not a geyser of arterial blood spraying up into the air. He might not have cut Simeon deeply enough to cause his death in mere moments.

Standing up, swaying, trying frantically to regain his sense of balance and clarity of thought, Rush readies himself to attack Simeon again, to try to puncture the carotid artery.

Simeon's expression is grimaced, hateful, and one hand is pressing down hard on the wound. He reaches behind himself, and Rush has calculated that this might happen, that the bastard might not bleed out fast enough before he pulls his weapon and shoots him.

Simeon comes up empty-handed and Rush shoots a panicked glance at Park. He'd given her that warning by tugging on her trousers so she could be ready to get back, get away, and she's backed up, yes, but not far enough.

Bloody fuck, not far enough, and Simeon lunges at her, grabbing for the weapon in her hand.

She fires it, and the bullet grazes the top of Simeon's shoulder, but he slams into her and they crash to the deck.

They struggle for control of the weapon and Park is screaming; Simeon is on top of her. Rush throws himself onto Simeon's back and stabs at his neck, the screwdriver hot in his hand from gripping it so tightly.

He's thrown off by Simeon, and the gun skitters across the floor during the struggle.

He's not sure if Park managed to do that or if it was accidental on Simeon's part. He crawls towards the gun, then staggers up and Simeon is roaring at Park to let go and Rush can't see what's happening behind him, but Park can't match Simeon in strength, she can't hold onto him for long.

He scoops up the gun and turns; Simeon is on his feet and charging towards him and Rush fires.

* * *

He's not a violent man, doesn't attack first, unless you count pointing out the inconvenient truth to people who don't want to hear it. He didn't start the fight with Colonel Young on that planet, that hot and dry world where his calculations about the repercussions of framing the Colonel had been sadly proven wrong.

He'd tried to communicate with the Nakai before realizing that to them he was just a conduit to their favorite obsession. They were not interested in a true dialog, just in ripping out knowledge from his mind. He'd strangled the Nakai who'd switched with the Colonel, but the alien had moved to attack him.

Greer had infuriated him, on the way back to the gate after Rush had given up looking for the mineral they so desperately needed for the air scrubbers on board. He had no idea the Sergeant was planning on going back out to look for Lieutenant Scott, that he was going to save his water allotment for that trek. All he knew was that he'd given up his own water ration to Scott, to help him, and Greer hadn't done that, so Greer could bloody well let him have a drink.

Their scuffle had ended with Greer pointing a gun at him, but Rush hadn't been concerned. Greer would have shot him long before that except the man knew Rush was needed, regardless of his penchant for shoving a gun in Rush's face. Still, what had that smack on Rush's ass been about? At the time, he'd thought Greer was just showing him who was in charge by treating him as a child who needed a spanking to behave. Since the table, though, he'd revisited that occasion and wondered if Greer, too, had thought he needed fucking, but had been too restrained to do anything more than slap him on his ass.

He's not a man who can use his size and strength to bully others into doing as he wants. He doesn't even want to do that, but he does want to protect what's his even if he knows in his bones eventually all he cares about will be taken from him. It's the law of the jungle, and he's not given to self-delusions. He's not strong enough, doesn't have allies who will watch his back, stand shoulder to shoulder with him to repel those who want to take what he cares about from him. It's happened before, in Glasgow, in academic circles. His belongings. His research. His position.

He always loses the people he cares about. Gloria would say that God called her home. He says that she was taken from him, not by God, he can't really warp his mind into believing in Gloria's God, but by the uncaring universe. Mandy's health is always fragile, and he does feel love for her, muddled as he is about exactly what kind of love. He dreads the day he learns she, too, has been taken.

He feels an obligation to the people he brought here, even if it was the right call in a crisis, to eventually find a way to return them to Earth, although he doubts anyone believes him on that point. Lieutenant Scott hadn't, had thought it necessary to plead with him to not abandon them.

He doesn't want to go back to Earth. There is nothing really there for him, not even Mandy's company is enough to make him want to leave Destiny. The ship needs a crew, and these people who found themselves here are important to whatever Destiny's mission is about, but he doesn't think he'd deny his crewmates the right to return to their homes. He hasn't been tested on that, though, so he doesn't know really. Telford's plan to dial home within a star would have blown them up; he was protecting the crew and himself and Destiny by foiling it, so it wasn't a true test.

He is not a violent man, but he will protect what he cares about.

There is a gun in his hand, there is a man dying on the floor in front of him, sneering up at him. Blood surrounds Simeon, like a river that floods over its banks into surrounding fields.

Simeon is a dead man, knows he is, and his gasped words are the last weapon he will ever use.

“Kiva will avenge me when she finds out what you did. She'll put you on your back again, Rush, on a table for all to enjoy and I die knowing that you'll be the ship's whore for the rest of your days. All of you, you're to be prizes for the Alliance. You all will be our willing slaves, especially the soldiers, in and out of bed or Kiva will wring your medic's brat's neck.”

He coughs then, spits a bloody froth onto the floor. Rush hears Park crying but his eyes are fixed on the man bleeding out on the floor – but not losing blood fast enough to keep him silenced.

“You felt so hot and willing, Rush, when we fucked. I sank right into you, and you came for me. You came for me, and I want you to remember that. You tightened around my cock and I made you feel so good, little whore, that you dirtied yourself all over your belly.”

He hears Simeon's words and feels them sink into his heart like poisoned barbs. He can't listen to any more of them.

Numbly, he steps closer and closer to the man on the floor spouting such filth about him until he's standing directly over him and aims the gun pointblank at his head.

Simeon blows him a kiss and Rush pulls the trigger.

 

* * *

 

Rush cuts Park's hands free with Simeon's own knife and pats her on the back, asking her if she's all right; he gives her the knife while he sticks the gun into the back of his trousers. She looks at the knife blankly, sobs shaking her body, and he thinks she's a bit in shock, poor lass, and then she lays it on the deck.

Her arms coming round him are a surprise and he flinches. She's not fixed her clothes back yet and he doesn't think she realizes that and he's torn between wanting to shove her away and hugging her back.

He hugs her gingerly because she is one of his, and she's just been assaulted and apparently his comfort is better than none and maybe, maybe, this is something he needs, too.

She's having none of his being tentative and draws him tight against her. He finds that he doesn't want to let go, after all, and holds her as strongly as she's holding him. After long, long moments, as they cling to each other like shipwrecked sailors clutching a life ring, her sobbing starts to die down and his breathing slows. They pull apart and he looks to the side so she won't think he's staring at her breasts.

Park startles him by choking out a tortured kind of laugh. “Too late for modesty, Do-- Dinn. But thank you.”

He nods, still keeping his eyes averted as she fixes her bra and buttons up her blouse and sweater. She's seen him give their rapist oral sex and expose his own erection, so yes. A bit silly to worry about the niceties now, but he's never been one to oogle people.

He's trembling, he notices, and wonders for how long he's been shaking like this. Still. They need to work the problem before them.

He says as much to Park, and together they partly empty out a large container. They can't lift Simeon's body into the container, it's too tall and they'll get blood all over them, but Park finds the Ancient version of a forklift and they use that to dump the body into the container and cover it back up with the contents. They fasten the container's lid and take it to a back wall and move a row of other containers to hide the blood on the floor.

Park grabs his hand when they're done. He lets her hold onto him, reminded of when he and Chloe escaped from the Nakai.

“They're going to use us as prizes,” she says to him, her eyes intent. “Kiva is going hold TJ's baby as a hostage for everybody's good behavior.”

He raises his eyebrows and she says, “Yes, TJ had the baby. A little girl, and she's healthy and beautiful. I was helping, and after TJ got settled in her room, with Chloe and Camile to stay there with her, I was on my way to my quarters when Simeon--”

She puts a fist to her mouth, and he squeezes her hand.

It's rather brilliant of Kiva, he admits. Forcing the assimilation of the Tau'ri crew by handing them off to her people to be bedpartners. When the Earth women start having babies fathered by Alliance men, or the other way round, those connections will erode away at any resistance. He can see it happening now, with the way Eli and Ginn are drawn to each other. There will be others. He would have said Lieutenant Johansen and Varro might have a future together, but Varro's raping him has blocked that. But will that block hold as time goes by? Will the Lieutenant forgive Varro? Have children with her enemy turned lover?

It's an old story to him, these space raiders come to plunder and seize the ship, like the Vikings had come to Scotland and in the end mingled their bloodlines with the people they'd come to raid.

In fifty years, if the Nakai and other dangers don't stop them, their children's children will be an entirely different culture and society, if the Alliance doesn't find a way to dial Destiny with reinforcements. Not drug warlords, but spacefarers, explorers, because Kiva is dedicated to discovering Destiny's mission. At any rate, the Tau'ri will be absorbed into the dominant culture. The Alliance.

Kiva is also using the crew to control her people. Instead of a free for all where the Lucians just grab and rape those they want, she's dangling them as prizes for good behavior. Simeon most likely had screwed up and so he took Park out of frustration at being dropped from Kiva's list of those who had earned rewards.

Park says, still holding tight to his hand, “What can we do?”

He doesn't know what to say to her. He's not going to explain about the master code and at any rate, what's to explain? He doesn't know what it will mean for them. It might not help their situation at all.

Still. Something should be done. Young might sacrifice some of his people in order to take back the ship, but to ask him to sacrifice his newborn daughter? He doesn't think the man can do that. So, at any rate, the baby must be protected so that if Young makes the attempt to free himself and his people he's not hampered by that fear. He'll have to think of a way to get him to understand that. Maybe fake a suicide attempt so that he's thrown back with the military prisoners at night once more.

Park is looking at him, and he feels a wave of fondness for her. She's trying to pick herself back up again, and he appreciates that. She's always been one to not dwell on negative aspects of their life on the ship. She's been a good foil for Brody's pessimism and Volker's whining.

“We've got weapons, now, aye?” he says, and lets go of her hand and takes the gun out of the back of his trousers and hands it to her. “You'll go back to Lieutenant Johansen, hiding the gun and the knife, and you give them to her. Stay with her. Tell her what you've learned, that the baby will be a pawn for Kiva. She's a mother now, and I warrant as fierce as a bear with a cub. And she's military. She'll take it from there.”

He feels in his jacket pocket and brings out the pouch of bullets he'd taken off Simeon's body. He'd also found the knife and the small box that held the drug that caused arousal. He'd tucked that away, although he couldn't explain to himself why he'd done that.

Park takes the bullets from him and puts them in her pants pocket. For the gun, she imitates what he had done and secures it in the back of her trousers. The knife she ties to her leg with the cloth Simeon had gagged her with, and she looks more steady now that there's a plan to follow.

“Simeon is going to be missed,” she says, and he nods, then shrugs.

“He took care not to have any kinos about when he took you and me. The gun had a silencer, and if anyone had heard the shots they'd have come by now. It'll be a while before they realize he's disappeared. And if they find the body, who's to say that he didn't piss off one of their own? He was an asshole, eh?”

She gives him a choked sort of laugh again, then looks intently at him. “Are you going to be okay?”

He shrugs again and doesn't answer. He can taste blood and semen in his mouth, although he'd spit out as much as he could. He's shaking still. Maybe he always will now.

“You're talking a lot more. Maybe it was therapeutic to shoot him?”

He shrugs again. Scrubs his hands over his face, remembering his tears and how Simeon had licked them from his skin. He shudders.

She steps closer and her arms open up.

He could step back and evade the hug.

But he doesn't.

* * *

He sees Park back to where a kino notices her walking down the corridor away from a mostly not used shower room and drops down behind her as she heads towards Lieutenant Johansen's quarters. She'll be safe now, with eyes on her.

For himself, he makes sure there is no kino watching as he ducks into the shower room and starts stripping off his clothes. He swears he can still feel Simeon's hands on his shoulders, smell him. The taste of that bastard's cock and semen, he needs to scrub it out of his mouth, and he wants to clean his clothes again; they stink of his fear and there's blood droplets and what looks like cum on the jacket.

He can't let Simeon's filth ruin Young's jacket. He needs to take care of it, make sure nothing remains of what happened tonight on the fabric. He doesn't want Young to see any stains and ask about them. He doesn't want anybody to know what happened between him and Simeon. Park said she'll keep quiet about how he'd had to give Simeon a blow job in order to attack him; she'll say that she grabbed the gun when Rush distracted Simeon by going at him with the little screwdriver. From that point the true narrative can be told.

He pulls the screwdriver out of its hiding place, and it's stained a rusty brown. He's gotten blood on Young's cuff, too, with it.

Over and over, he rubs the wet material together until he's satisfied nothing remains of Simeon on Young's jacket and then he washes his other clothes as well.

He lets the cleansing mist gather in his open mouth, and of course it tastes horrible, but he relishes that, is relieved to have the taste of Simeon obliterated. He spits and spits and watches the last trace of Simeon disappear down the drain.

He scrubs at his skin until he's made himself turn bright pink with the friction. It always helps, scrubbing himself down, but even so the feeling of filth on him is only a slide into memory away.

Simeon's words eat at him. Park told him not to pay attention to what Simeon had said, that it was all lies, but he knows what he did on the table and while the drug may have been totally responsible, it's possible it was not. What if it was the result of some depraved, dirty part of himself that his subconscious had always locked away, and the drug only opened the door? He knows he's obsessing about these horrible thoughts but he can't stop himself. He wonders about it every night as he tries to sleep. His own fucked up bedtime ritual.

He's not even sure if the erection he got tonight that Simeon had demanded was because of the traces of the drug he took from Simeon's mouth, or if that was all him. Again.

It's getting late, he knows, although probably not as much time has passed as it feels. He dresses again, his clothes still somewhat damp, and he shivers in them. There are no kinos in the corridor, so he is free to try again to make sense out of the master code.

Warily, he makes his way back to where he had been before Simeon had grabbed him and punches in the code the ship gave him. The elevator car moves up, and then sideways, and releases him in a section of the ship that had been off limits due to damage.

The schematic Destiny showed him earlier when he looked at the algorithm's result is a bit of a treasure map, it seems, and he looks carefully along the walls where the ship has directed him. The Ancients tended to be rather cryptic and fond of proving one's capabilities before allowing access to their tech or outposts. He'd read all of Stargate Command's mission reports that dealt with the Ancients, and they'd had their share of unraveling clues left by a people long dead. SG1 had the most experience, but then they had Doctor Jackson to pave the way for them.

Brilliant man, Daniel. Rush had enjoyed their discussions on the Ancients. A good teacher, too, and he had benefited greatly from learning Ancient directly from him, the acknowledged master of a language that hadn't been spoken aloud in countless, countless years. Daniel had been rather impressed with him, actually, and had told him that Rush's talent for languages had been sadly underutilized.

He'd avidly read everything that was allowed about Atlantis. He would have loved to have seen it for himself, but the Icarus project had demanded his full attention and all of his time.

Atlantis is lovely, full of graceful towers and colorful windows; Destiny is scarred and worn, still quite beautiful, mind you, but she has lived her years. Atlantis had been safely cocooned away while Destiny sailed on, taking on damage but never faltering with her mission.

He loves the ship, and this is his place. Atlantis doesn't need him; Destiny does. He understands the ship, and rather irrationally, he feels that she understands him. They communicated via the chair, after all. She watched him struggle to make sense of the clues she had given him in the dream interface that pointed the way to unlocking the master code.

She could have just given it to him, but that wasn't the Ancient's way. One had to prove oneself, and he'd passed Destiny's test. He hadn't failed, after all. He'd thought when he'd been floundering in the dream simulation that he should have sent Eli in his stead, but he knew what he was doing was risky. He hadn't wanted to see the boy hurt. Perhaps, if he was being honest with himself, he also hadn't wanted to share the ship with anyone else like that. He hadn't followed his own advice to others about the greater good, but in the end it had worked out. He'd deciphered Destiny's message and had only suffered a mild cardiac problem. Lieutenant Johansen had been quite firm that he not sit in the chair again for some time and had insisted on that to Colonel Young.

He wonders what it had felt like for Franklin to dissolve away, for his mind to transform into code, to realize he was now a part of Destiny. Or at least, he thinks that's what happened. Did Franklin ask that of Destiny? Or did the ship just take him like a sacrificial offering in order to agree to save them.

His eye catches on a keypad and he examines it. He doesn't remember it being here, when they'd sent kinos on search mode. Perhaps it had been hidden from their eyes before and only now, when he found the code, was it revealed. Hidden by a hologram or a covering had slid up, revealing it.

At any rate, he jabs at the Ancient numbers and what he'd taken earlier as a wall slides away and a more ornate door is revealed.

He's trembling again, but at least this time it's not a reaction from trauma but from excitement. He pushes down on the door control knob and the door slides open.

He cautiously enters the room, stretches his arms out against the high balcony rails and takes in the sight of multiple consoles, chairs, monitors, and in the hub is what must be a command chair, surrounded by easily reached monitors.

He steps slowly down into the heart of the room. He grew up in a port town, with the smell of the sea never far away, and the sight and sound of boats and ships traveling the waterways or docking. He absorbed knowledge about boats and engines and the hard life of sailors as effortlessly as he learned to walk and talk and read and figure maths.

This is the bridge of this great ship, and the master code has granted him access. To him. He is the only one who knows this, and he feels humbled and awed that he is standing here now.

This, this is power, and he will decipher Destiny's systems and he will use what he learns and no longer will they just be castaways swept into this ship and helpless to affect any changes. He will not be helpless any longer.

They will be the crew that Destiny has needed all these long years, finally, able to navigate and plot and stay the bloody hell longer on planets to gather what they need so they don't starve than what Destiny allows them now.

He's sure that he will have more access to the database, open those locked cyber doors that have frustrated him so much. He can finally learn Destiny's mission, why the Ancients launched her so long ago.

He prowls around the bridge, and begins his journey of learning by recognizing how to turn on the most basic of systems. As golden lights flood everywhere, and window covering recedes so he can look out onto Destiny's hull, he comes back to his present dilemma. The wonder of his discovery had made him forget for a time their situation.

The Lucian Alliance must not be left in control of Destiny.

He sits himself down in the command chair and begins to carefully explore the systems the bridge controls.

* * *

The sheer amount of information to absorb is overwhelming. He knows that it would be impossible for him to become proficient in understanding everything in one night, or even a week or two to three weeks.

The thought of his scientists and the military bumbling around with these delicate systems without any direction from him is migraine inducing. It would be a repeat of the first days on the ship, with unqualified people wrecking havoc with their keyboard smashing.

He won't allow that to happen.

But this is not where his priorities lie, not for tonight.

He works the problem with the greater good as his moral compass. Yes, he's been tortured and raped by the Alliance. All of them. Every single last person from Kiva to Koz invaded his body, humiliated him, debased him, made him beg to suck cocks and fingers for the privilege of a sip of water. What they did to him was barbaric. Kiva and her people must be stopped and he's not just thinking of himself.

It feels academic to him, the problem of how to proceed, an equation that needs to be balanced.

He can't touch the rage that he's locked away, not even here where there is no one who could find him. He pictures himself hitting walls and screaming and throttling Kiva but it's just pictures in his head, outlines waiting for the vibrant colors of his justified anger to complete them.

He's numb. Like he's almost frozen and he knows he needs heat but there is none to be found within him. But he can't think on that now, so he leaves off trying to play psychologist to himself.

He works diligently and finds everything he needs. First of all, he puts the ship back on autopilot. Later, there will be time to decipher navigation and propulsion.

The bridge supersedes the control interface room, so any actions he takes will not be countermanded, and can not be traced back to here.

He has not made his decision yet. He closes his eyes because he is so very tired. Absolutely exhausted, utterly drained.

There is a small sound that brings him back to alertness, makes his eyes fly open. He sits up straight in the command chair.

The woman smiling at him can't be there sitting at a secondary console and he accepts that he's probably lost his mind.

“Gloria,” he breathes out, and it's brilliant to see her like this, his beautiful girl, not sick or in pain, and he wonders if he can touch her, this hallucination come to haunt him. He failed her miserably, and perhaps his mind conjured her in order to punish him further.

Does she know, this vision of his wife, his best friend, what he did on the table? Will he see utter disgust on her features?

“Hello, darling,” Gloria says, looking serene, her hair up in the way she'd wear it during concert performances. He'd always loved pulling it down afterwards, when they'd returned home and he'd make love to her, his clumsy way of trying to express how much he loved watching her play her violin. “Your program worked. You've unlocked the master code.” She tilts her head towards him, and he could never obfuscate with her, she was always so very insightful. “And you're not going to tell anyone, are you?”

He shakes his head. This is his secret, his place, and it's too soon to share it.

She smiles at him again. “You have a decision to make, love. Best crash on with it.”

He nods, still too taken aback to say anything. She's not wrong, this hallucination or Destiny using his dead wife's form to communicate with him.

His fingers hover over the console, and his mind assesses his options. The situation has to be contained, Kiva can't be allowed to proceed. Young and the crew. Chloe, Park, his Science Team, Lieutenant Johansen and her baby, he can't allow them to continue to be hostages, prizes, killed. He can't ever, ever, ever again be forced back on that table and fucked like he's the Alliance's toy.

Decision made, he enters commands to the ship, then slumps back when he finishes and closes his eyes again.

He's so very, very tired.

* * *.

Chapter 9: Insurrection

The doors to their makeshift prison slide open and Everett leads the charge out into the corridor, his people executing the plan to take down their guards, and he knows, they know, that this is their last chance to save themselves, to save the civilians and TJ.

They are soldiers. They are at war and some of them will die, but they will stop Kiva from enslaving their people. They will stop her or they will be dead. There is no in-between.

There are no battle cries, just the silent deadly horde behind him, splitting into three groups to seek out their enemies.

Their enemies. And someone has unlocked the doors for them.

Everett raises his hand up and clenches his fist, the sign copied by Scott and James and Greer, and the soldiers at his back freeze into place.

Their enemies lie sprawled on the floor in front of him. He counts seven of them, and points at Dunning and Becker and Marsden, motioning for them to investigate.

They kick the bodies and get no reaction; they bend down and feel for pulses, roll them over and check for breathing.

They shake their heads and begin gathering up the Alliance weapons that are scattered on the floor. They search the bodies, remove knives and handguns and radios and pass them out.

The expressions on the faces of these dead men and women – they did not die easily.

He thinks of the death grimaces on their faces and he knows how they died. There are no wounds on them. Their eyes are bloodshot, and he's seen that before, too.

“Sir,” Scott says quietly. “I think the air was vented out of this corridor.”

“Yes,” Everett says, remembering that Scott, too, had seen what Rush's body had looked like when the air had been sucked out of the room and David had suffocated on his orders to break the brainwashing. “I agree, Lieutenant.”

He longs to find TJ right now. She was in labor, David had said, and he'd told her that they would make this work, having a child together. He wants to be there, to help her. To watch his child take its first breath. Not quite friends again, not lovers anymore, and he doesn't see it ever working that way for them again, even without the fraternization problems, but they are family. Their child makes them a family. He wants to meet his son or daughter, hold them and feel their fragility and marvel at how perfect they are.

He wants to find Rush, his own cross to bear. He pummeled the man on that desert planet. A civilian, a scrappy one, sure, but not trained to defend himself or to take out an aggressor. Everett had had all the advantages in that fight: weight, strength, longer arm reach, training. Rush had still managed to bounce a rock off his head, and wasn't that just like the man, always seeking out whatever advantage he could to even the playing field. It hadn't been enough, though, and after Rush's defiant words to him – We'll never be done – he'd put him out and dropped him like a child throwing down a rag doll.

He'd left him there in anger, an impulsive decision, and it was the wrong thing to have done. How he wishes he'd picked Rush up and packed his unconscious ass back to the ship instead of leaving him marooned on a planet that he couldn't survive on. But he didn't, and to compound the guilt he feels over that was what he did to him in order to save him from Kiva's revenge. TJ can tell him all she likes that he was also a victim, but it doesn't help. He'd raped Rush and the guilt is crushing him.

Difficult as Rush is, he's one of his, and he needs to see him for himself, assess him, physically and mentally. Keep trying to help the man cope, if Rush will let him.

He's somewhat afraid that Rush has managed to kill himself after all. Except David would have told him that, probably, to see the regret and guilt flash on Everett's face. Unless Kiva kept that knowledge from him.

These impulses, to find his stray sheep and let the rest of the fold manage without him, he stifles them. This is what being in command is, and he embraces it because he must. First, secure the ship. Then he can give in and check on TJ and Rush.

He addresses the three teams. “We're going to the armory first, and then we'll split back into the same teams and search out these bastards and take them out. Take prisoners if you can, but do not put yourself or your teams in jeopardy.” He knows Homeworld Command would want to force intel out any Lucians they can capture, but he's not in love with the idea. He won't risk his people for Homeworld Command's wish list. “If you need backup, use channel four. Drag these bodies into the room, and shut the door.”

No sense in prematurely alerting the remaining Alliance that they were under attack, and when the door is closed again he moves them out, those with assault weapons taking point.

* * *

The same scene is repeated in front of the armory, and he wonders if one of the scientists was able to do this from the control interface room, as these four bodies are also stripped of their weapons and radios. The door to the armory is unlocked and they outfit themselves and drag the bodies inside. Everett leaves five men on guard.

Eleven dead. He's not sure how many Lucians had entered the gate but at least three dozen. Maybe more.

He goes with Greer's team to take back the control interface room, leaving Scott and his team to start checking the quarters on the corridors that the Alliance had claimed. TJ had given him that information when they'd all been herded together into the mess to watch Rush's punishment.

James he sends to the other communal areas. The mess. The exercise room. The observation deck. She salutes him, her face set and grim and takes her team down the corridors towards the mess.

Greer and he take point as they stalk through the corridors, but they meet no one. The doors to the control interface room are closed, but not locked, and they get into position to storm inside once the door slides open.

It is quiet in the room, and dark, but the glow from the monitors and the central systems core brighten up the room enough to see the bodies on the floor. From the clothing they are Alliance, except for one light-haired man in a button down shirt and khakis. He's lying face down, and Everett can't identify him without seeing his face.

“Greer,” Everett says, and flicks his eyes toward the bodies.

“Yes, sir,” Greer replies softly. He does what is necessary while Everett motions Riley over.

“I need you to take over in here,” he orders Riley, and the kid nods and goes to the applecore. Everett watches him scroll through monitors, waiting for what Riley can tell him about the ship and their people.

Someone vented the air from this room and left them with a puzzle. Everett had assumed one of their scientists in the control interface room had vented the other areas where the Lucians were concentrated, but could they have set up some kind of delayed venting from here and then left the room? If so, where were they?

Who was the man dressed in civilian clothing?

Greer reports back to him and at least one question is answered. There are six people dead in this room, five of them Alliance and the other is Doctor Boone.

Did Boone sacrifice himself so that Everett could take back the ship? Or was he just caught in the same trap as the Lucian Alliance's people?

Everett tells Greer to pick a detail to guard the room, and strides over to Riley. He needs answers and he needs them now.

“Sergeant, what the hell happened in here?”

Riley is one of his best, a promising young man with skills that Everett knows he'd hoped to one day hone in college and become a Ph.D. More than that, Riley wears his ethical heart on his sleeve, and he's been a moral compass during this mission.

Riley is not Rush, though, doesn't have the man's familiarity with Destiny. They need to find Rush, get him up here to help. Find Park and Eli, Brody and Volker, too.

He hopes they are okay, especially Rush. But he can't be sure until he has verification that the man is still alive and still healthy. If ever there was a person who could piss off those in authority, it was Rush, and with Kiva he'd be tortured again or killed.

“This is mostly over my head, sir,” Riley says. “But I can't find anything in the logs about venting air from corridors or rooms. There are kinos set up around the occupied sections of the ship, though. They're on real time and also go to recordings. The Alliance must have set those up, Eli would have told me if he'd done something like that.”

Everett crosses his arms. “Can you bring the real-time kino footage up? And are the civilian quarters still locked down from here?”

Civilian crew were escorted into their rooms in the evening and locked in till morning. Another thing TJ and Camile had managed to let him know about, during those three days when they'd been herded out of their cell and into the mess to watch Rush's torture.

“I'm looking, sir,” Riley says. Everett forces himself to back off and let the man work. He knows he wouldn't have done that if it was the Science Team searching for answers, especially if it was Rush. He'd have stayed on their backs, hell, if it was Rush he'd have almost climbed on his back.

Hell of a time to gain insight into his own behavior, but he realizes that he's willing to back off with Riley because he trusts him to be honest with Everett and with the civilian scientists he's not that sure. They might be holding back. So he's pushed them to keep himself in the loop. Harassed them, he's sure Rush would say. Or would have said. He doesn't think Rush is probably saying much at all about anything anymore.

Maybe the mutiny influenced him about this bias against the civilian scientists, but he thinks it goes back further than that. And with Rush's history of lying and deception and basically having his own agenda no matter what Everett as the Icarus base commander and Destiny's commander had asked him to do, yeah. He's never fully trusted Rush; the Science Team, despite their own internal feuds with Rush, will back him against outsiders, so he's never felt the bone deep trust with them either that he does with Riley. Except perhaps Eli, who came into this situation as an outsider. Still, even with Eli, he has had doubts.

He thinks David was being an ass when he insisted on trying to dial home within the star, but it didn't escape his attention that it was the scientists who banded together to pull that fast one on him, with Rush as the ringleader. They didn't involve the military on that, and maybe it was to protect them from the wrath of a superior officer, or maybe it was because of a lack of trust on their part.

They'll be time to sort through all of this later, though. Right now, he needs to find out what is happening on the ship so he radios Scott and James.

“Scott here, the quarters the Alliance claimed are locked down. We can't open them. Can they be opened from the inside?”

“Checking on that. Stand by.”

He strides over to the applecore. “Riley, what can you tell me about the locked rooms?”

“They're all controlled from here. Our guys and theirs, right now all the crew quarters are locked down. Nobody can get out from the inside.”

“Can you open individual ones?”

“Yes, sir.” Riley's hands hovered over the console, waiting for his orders.

He thumbs down the button on his radio. “Scott, this is Young. Leave four men to guard the Lucian's quarters, but we'll hold off on opening those doors. They're not going anywhere. I want you to escort the Science Team to the control interface room. That's Eli, Park, Brody, Volker, and Rush. Do you know where their quarters are? And check the infirmary and TJ's quarters, too. ”

“Eli and Rush and TJ, yeah. Not sure about Park or the others. Let me ask my detail.”

There is radio silence for a minute, and then Scott confirms that they can retrieve all of the scientists.

He needs to find out if TJ is okay. For personal reasons, obviously, and he can't afford to dwell on them right now, but she's been the only military that had had relative freedom while the rest of them were incarcerated. He needs her report.

James has cleared the mess. It's empty, she reports, but judging by the mugs of tea on the table, some of which were still warm, people had been there recently and had left in a hurry. Most likely, they were Alliance.

“Sir, I'm heading to the observation deck,” James radios.

“Copy that, Lieutenant. We're locking down the mess since you cleared it. Keep me updated, Young out.”

He turns to Riley. “Sergeant,” he says.

“On it, sir,” Riley replies, and adds after fiddling with the monitor, “I've set up the kino feeds on that monitor over there,” and points to a wall where additional stations are located.

Everett strides over and sees that the large screen has been split into twelve smaller screens, each focused on a different part of the inhabited areas. He registers the detail left to guard the armory, locates Scott's team heading towards the corridors where crew have quarters, sees James with her group clearing the corridor that leads to the observation deck.

He straightens and radios James to warn her. He has spotted a group of six Lucians in the observation area, colors streaming against the shields in the background, weapons ready, in position to ambush her team

“Riley, lock down the observation room. Prepare to vent the air from there.”

Riley's eyes widen and he swallows. Everett is struck suddenly by how young he looks, and he doubts the young man has ever had to deliberately cause someone's death before.

“Do it,” Everett commands. “It's on me.” Riley nods and bends over the console.

He radios James to relay the new intel. On the screen, one of the Lucians jerks his head up and suddenly the room is emptying out, the last man barely getting through the door before it shuts and locks.

Everett curses under his breath. That Alliance group must be monitoring radio channels. He calls off six names, and points towards the door to the corridor, leaving Barnes in command. He communicates to James using code that he's coming with a detail to cut off the Alliance stragglers. Between them, they'll box them in.

* * *

Firing off bursts of gunfire, Everett and Greer cover for Reynolds as he scrambles to safety. Everett's killed one of the bastards, and James got two of them when the Alliance stragglers made a run for a cross corridor. These remaining three will not give up, despite there being nowhere they can run to without crossing paths with his people. Unless they try to hide in the shuttle, but again, where would they go? Still, better to block that option and he thumbs his radio to bring that scenario to James' attention, but she contacts him before he can warn her.

“Sir,” James reports, sounding calm, cool, even if her breathing is rushed. “They've gone into the shuttle. We can't gain access.”

Damn. He acknowledges her and radios Riley. “Can you open the shuttle from there? Three of them have ducked in and locked us out.”

“No, sir, I can't. We've tried before, when Senator Armstrong locked himself in,” Riley says.

“Well, try again. The door was damaged before, it's not now,” and he radios James next.

“We can wait them out, Lieutenant. They're not going anywhere.”

Riley cuts in. “Sir, they're powering up the shuttle. If they unlock the clamps, they're-”

Everett cuts him off. “James, tell them--” There's turbulence suddenly, and he loses his footing, staggers and grabs at a wall.

“Riley, status now!” he shouts into the radio.

“The shuttle's gone. Vaporized against the shields. We fluxed for a moment, but we're okay now. Shields are holding steady,” Riley replies, sounding professional.

Fuck, he thinks. They've just lost their remaining shuttle. Either those Lucians didn't know what would happen if the shuttle undocked while they were in FTL, or they decided to die taking out one of Destiny's greatest resources. Either way, no use worrying about it now.

“James, continue sweeping for Alliance groups.” He directs her to take certain corridors and areas and tells her where he'll be doing the same with his team.

He radios Scott, who had just rounded up Volker and Brody and Eli and was escorting them to the control interface room. Park hadn't been in her quarters and they hadn't gone for Rush yet. He's alive, according to Brody.

He will end up much closer to Rush than Scott or James. He decides he can legitimately take the time and do what he'd been longing to do.

“Start unlocking the Alliance quarters and keep me apprised. We'll get Rush and check in with TJ,” he orders, and Greer takes point as they set out to clear any remaining Alliance from the ship.

* * *

 

Greer pounds on Rush's door again. “Rush, the Colonel and I are gonna get you out of there. Say something, man, so we know you're ready.” There's only silence from within the room, and Greer glances at him for orders.

“Try again,” Everett says tiredly, and Greer tries again to rouse Rush.

He waits for Rush to respond; he doesn't want to startle the man by having armed soldiers burst into his room while he's sleeping.

But Rush doesn't acknowledge them.

He radios Riley again. “Riley, are you sure he's in here?”

“Yes, sir, according to the logs. He was escorted into the room by a kino yesterday in the early evening and it was locked down. It hasn't been unlocked since.”

“Open it.” The door unlocks with a familiar whir. “Greer, you're with me.”

Greer takes point, his weapon ready, and the rest of his team fan out in the corridor to keep watch.

“Go,” Everett says, and Greer enters the room, the light on his gun illuminating the corners of the room, before spotlighting a motionless figure curled up in the bed.

“Clear,” Greer reports and lowers his weapon. “That's Rush, I can tell by the hair. Maybe you should wake him up. He pretty much avoided me when he was in the storage room with us, but I noticed he stuck pretty close to you. Sir.”

Everett hands his weapon to Greer and slowly approaches the bed. Standing by the edge, he calls Rush's name. No response. He calls his name again but Rush doesn't even twitch.

Fear rises up and Everett shakes Rush's shoulder, then slides his hand to the side of Rush's neck when Rush doesn't move, leans over him to check his breathing.

He's alive, but his breathing is soft and slow and his pulse seems low. Everett looks to see if there is an empty jar with the remnants of TJ's sleep potion, but finds nothing.

Shaking Rush again, a little more urgently, he calls his name once more. Rush still doesn't wake up.

He pulls back the covers, hoping the cold air will help Rush wake the fuck up, and sits him up in the bed, pulling his legs forward and placing his bare feet on the floor. He shakes him again, a little harder this time. Rush is like a rag doll between his hands, his head lolling.

“Rush,” he growls, because this is taking too long and he needs to be out there making sure the ship is secured, and Rush had better fucking be okay.

He pulls Rush to his feet, to see if standing will trigger him into waking up, but has to grab him as he starts to collapse.

Just as he's deciding to pick him up and take him to TJ, Rush's eyes flutter open; he looks at Everett and smiles. “Colonel,” he murmurs and yawns.

It throws him, that smile, and why in the hell would anything about Everett cause Rush to smile like that?

His arms are tightly wound around Rush; he starts to loosen them, to step back and let Rush hold his own weight up, but he quickly tightens them around the other man. Rush might have his eyes open, and have correctly identified Everett, but he's still somewhere else.

“Rush, wake up. You're needed,” he snaps, shaking Rush. The last time he'd seen Rush this out of it, aside from the surgery to take out the tracker next to his heart, or sitting in the chair, Rush had collapsed due to working himself into exhaustion. He'd never bought the flimsy excuse of Rush being in nicotine and caffeine withdrawal as a reason for his passing out. Nobody else on the ship had done that, and there had been plenty of cranky people jonesing for their drug of choice.

No, Rush had just worked himself to the point of no return and he hadn't woken up while being carried to a bed, or being examined by TJ. He hadn't even come to by himself some ten hours later; TJ had to shake him until he started to respond.

Rush puts his head on Everett's shoulder and sighs out, “'M tired,” and Everett can feel his entire body going lax again.

“Greer, see if there's some water in here,” and when Greer shows it to him he dips Rush back enough so Greer can pour it slowly over Rush's face.

Rush scrunches his face up and a hand haphazardly tries to wipe the wetness off, but Everett catches his fingers, holding Rush's weight with just one arm, and Greer pours the water a little harder over Rush's face this time.

It works; Rush sputters into full consciousness and fear overrides the sleepy expression on his face. He starts to scream, and Everett puts a hand over his mouth, while setting him back on his own feet.

“Shhhh,” he cautions, still keeping his arm around him. “You're okay. Don't scream. You with me?”

Rush nods, the confused look on his face giving way to understanding. Everett takes his hand away from Rush's mouth and lets go of him.

“We're taking back the ship. C'mon, let's get you to the control interface room. Most of the Science Team is already there.”

Rush is already dressed, still wearing Everett's uniform jacket, and he walks to the open door. Everett can see energy revitalizing the other man, as he turns to wait for him and Greer. So Rush hasn't hit rock bottom yet, but Everett guesses he must be pretty close. He looks exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes.

He's not talking, but his expression is easy to read. He wants to know what's happening. Everett nods at him and an odd expression crosses Rush's face. He looks down, not meeting Everett's eyes anymore. Something about that action twinges at Everett, but there's no time to figure out what's going on now with Rush.

“I'll update you on the way. Let's go.” Everett tells him quietly and steps out into the corridor, with Rush right behind him.

 

* * *

 

As they stride along, side by side, the thud of his boots accompanying the soft patter of Rush's bare feet, Everett gives Rush a brief synopsis of what Telford had told them. Rush doesn't look surprised to learn that Telford has been brainwashed again. He moves on; David is a problem that can wait, and so can asking Rush what he knows about it.

He goes on briefing Rush, tells him how the door to their cell had been unlocked for them and that they'd found dead Lucians outside their prison cell and by the armory and in the control interface room, how some had escaped and been shot or had destroyed themselves along with the shuttle.

Rush looks haunted, grim, avoids looking him in the eye. His tormentors are dead, but Rush doesn't look relieved. But what the hell does he know about how people respond to the sort of things Rush has been through? He only really knows how he himself feels now, has felt in the past when missions have gone south and people he cares about have been hurt or killed. That mission, the one where David with his scrambled brains had sacrificed so many good people, it still gives him nightmares, makes him want to lose himself in a bottle.

Wish that maybe it had been him who had paid the price instead.

He tells Rush that a lot of the Lucians are apparently trapped in the quarters they'd taken over, but it's unclear if they are dead or alive.

Rush has nothing to say, but when Everett tells him that Doctor Boone had been trapped in the control interface room and is a casualty he halts in his tracks. He puts a fist to his mouth and hunches over, and Everett can't see his face like that.

“Hey, keep it together,” he tells Rush and although the words are brusque, his tone is not. Maybe Boone was a friend. They'll mourn for their dead later, though. There is a mission to accomplish now. “We have to go.”

Straightening up, a bleak look on his face, Rush gestures for Everett to move ahead.

 

* * *

Rush's gaze rakes the room as he hovers near the control interface doorway, but the dead are gone. When Everett asks Barnes, she had the bodies moved to an unused room off the corridor. Her team is guarding the corridor, leaving the scientists alone in the room. Ordering his team to join them, he motions Greer and Rush to enter.

All eyes turn to them when they step across the threshold. Riley looks relieved, Brody gives Rush a sharp glance and Volker looks away. Eli, though, leaves his console and jogs over to them.

“God, Rush, are you okay?” Eli says, and reaches out to touch Rush on the arm, but the other man blanches and flinches away. “I'll take that as a no, then,” Eli says softly, and Everett wonders if Eli thought all the damage to Rush would have been lifted just because they are taking back the ship.

“I'm not calling you “Dinn,” Eli says stubbornly. “That's a slave name, and you aren't, we aren't, going to be their property anymore.”

Everett does not have time for this kind of dramatics from the boy wonder. “Eli, I have to go. Any problems?”

“The ship is fine. We're waiting on Matt to tell us which doors to open in the Alliance quarters,” Eli says, and then looks at Rush. “So, Frodo, how about you take over my station?”

Rush gives Eli an incredulous look.

“What? If I can't call you by your name, and I refuse on principle to call you Dinn or Kresh'ta, then Frodo works for me. You're the size of a hobbit, except way, way too thin, except Frodo was pretty skinny by the time he got to Mount Doom, despite the lembas bread, and I know you haven't had enough to eat, nobody has, so that fits, but actually, you don't really have the kind of personality that I would consider very hobbit-like, although they don't wear shoes either, but you've been through a lot, like Frodo, and I have to call you something--”

Greer breaks into Eli's monologue. “How about just “Doc?”

Everett looks at Rush, but he isn't panicking about that name. “You okay with that one?” he asks Rush.

Rush nods, casting a baleful, exhausted look at Eli.

“Okay, I can do “Doc,” Eli says. “So, Doc, you can have the console I was working at and I'll monitor the kinos. I know you're not big on talking a lot right now and we'll need to communicate with Matt and James and their teams.”

Rush nods to Eli and gives a quick glance at Everett before looking downward. Something about that glance twinges at him again. There's something off about Rush, but then, what the hell is his baseline now, after all that's happened to the guy?

Everett decides he needs to cut Rush a lot of slack. He'll just keep an eye on him; maybe Camile can help him figure out just how traumatized Rush is, and what's the best way to help him.

Still, there's things…

Everett stops him before he can walk away by gently laying a hand on Rush's arm. It's a calculated move, but after Rush's reaction to Eli doing the same thing, he has to know if Rush would back away from him, too. Granted, he'd mostly been asleep, but Rush had laid his head on Everett's shoulder, so Everett's hopeful that Rush is able to be more at ease with him.

Rush startles a little at the contact, but he doesn't pull away. He just looks at Everett, waiting, a questioning look on his face.

“We need to talk,” Everett says very quietly, making his tone nonthreatening. A request, not an order. “After this is over, we need to talk. Okay?”

Rush worries his lip, but hesitantly agrees, nodding. Rush hasn't spoken a single word since he woke up enough to realize who was in his quarters. He'd been pretty quiet when he'd spent time with the military in their storage cell, but he'd at least had mostly responded to Everett's questions verbally after the first few days. How much is he actually talking to people now?

Everett lets him go and collects Greer and Riley, telling the Science Team that they're going to TJ's next. The infirmary is deserted according to the kino surveillance.

Hopefully Park is with her, since she wasn't in her quarters and David had said that Park was helping her with the baby's birth.

Rush is already busy at a console, when Everett gives a last look into the room. He's safe now, and Everett feels relieved.

He breaks into a jog, his team matching him, as they head for TJ's quarters.

 

* * *

They're almost to the crew quarters when Brody's voice crackling on the radio demands his attention.

“Young here,” he responds, still moving rapidly.

“Colonel, stop,” Brody demands and Everett raises his fist and gives a downward motion; his team freeze into place.

“There's an unknown subject in the cross corridor ahead. Could be a Lucian,” Brody says, and his usual laconic steady tone has a tinge of urgency.

“If you can see him on the kino, why can't you ID him?” Everett demands.

“There's no kino in range. Rush found a life signs detector program and we can identify your group and the crew in their rooms; there's five life signs in TJ's quarters, but we don't know who this other one is.”

“Understood. Send some kinos up this way and keep me advised on the subject's movements.”

He orders Greer to take half of the team and circle around through other corridors so they can box in this guy. If they send a kino in, they'll alert their subject that they know he's there. And if he's a Lucian...

“Don't shoot unless I give the word. I'd rather not have casualties from friendly fire,” he orders Greer.

“Yes, sir. So Rush found a life signs detector program in less than five minutes?” Greer's eyebrows rise.

“Oh, I don't think so,” Everett says wryly.

“Yeah, that's our Doc,” Greer says, rolling his eyes. “Such a secretive bastard.” He doesn't sound like it bothers him, though.

“Probably thought we'd use it on him if he told us about it,” Everett says, with an eye roll of his own. “Well, we can drag the truth out of him later. Move out.”

 

* * *

 

He still hasn't identified who is shooting at them from the shelter of an open doorway, but one question has been answered. It's a member of the Alliance. A man, and he's got one of their door lock breakers with him. Rush and the others can't force that door to shut and lock, not when that gadget is attached to the door.

The Lucian returns fire at Everett's team when the guy zig-zags to another doorway and forces it open. Greer's team is in position, and the shooter is headed his way, but Everett hasn't ordered Greer to give away his position by spraying bullets at the man.

There's no tactical advantage to be gained by the invader in this part of the ship. So why did he choose to make his way here, to where most of Destiny's crew had been quartered?

Everett tries again to get the man to surrender. He may be the only Lucian alive, and Homeworld Command could use his intel, if they can get him to cooperate.

For an answer, he receives another round of bullets. He radios Greer.

“We'll hit him again, and then yell that we're out of ammo. When he comes your way, take him out,” Everett orders and Greer acknowledges him.

It's a good plan, but that old saying about battle plans not surviving contact with the enemy proves true again. O'Neill had his own version of it, and Everett had heard it more times than he wants to remember. He can just hear Jack yelling that they've switched to plan F.

F as in fucked, as the Lucian hurls a round sphere at them that Everett recognizes as a Goa'uld concussion bomb and then also throws one down the other end of the corridor.

He tries to shield his eyes, his ears, as he thunders out to his team to do the same.

The bright light, the deafening noise, penetrate his senses anyway, and he can feel himself blacking out.

TJ, is his last thought.

* * *

Chapter 10: Conflict

The sound of distant weapons discharge penetrates the foggy mire that is his brain, and somewhere in the depth of that tangled mess of neurons he remembers that he is a soldier, an Air Force officer, and there are people depending on him.

He is lying on a metal floor and he is cold.

His name, he knows his goddamned name, Everett Youngand this is Destiny and one of the remaining Lucians threw a Goa'uld concussion bomb at him. His team! TJ, the civilians, his baby girl!

He opens his eyes and sees nothing but black with flashes of white, like some bizarre mono-colored fireworks show.

Hearing comes back first, then the ability to move again. Sight will be last. This isn't his first rodeo with these style of bombs and he had loved going to the rodeos and country fairs with his uncles and older brothers and sisters, loved racing his horse. It had felt like flying to him. He'd won state champion at the 4-H pole bending race when he was eleven at the state fair, the wind rushing past him, urging Queenie with hands and thighs to shift around the tall poles, to go faster, to soar towards the finish line.

Shit. He drifted into the past; the bombs messed up your ability to concentrate, and he needs to focus.

What does he have? What does he need?

He's alive. He has a science team and Rush, who had been monitoring them with kinos and life signs detectors. He can hear, even if sight is not working just yet. He has military guarding the control interface room, and James' and Scott's teams checking the Alliance quarters and looking for any more enemy soldiers. He's not relying totally on the life signs detector program Rush magicked up.

He needs to find out if he can talk, move. He tries to sit up, but all his muscles do is tremble. Okay, so he's grounded right now. It will pass. He needs to send Scott and James and their teams to take out that Lucian bastard. He needs to get help to Greer and the rest of his people who'd been hit with the concussion waves from the bomb. He needs to make sure TJ is all right, to see for himself that the baby is safe. That Lucian had been moving towards crew quarters, instead of trying to retake the control room. That worries him.

He hears no movements near him, the firing was not in this corridor. Safe to talk then, no point in playing possum until he'd regained muscule control.

His first attempt to talk is little more than a slurry of sounds. Fuck.

Trying again, he manages to actually form coherent words this time. “Sit rep,” he demands and god bless Eli for figuring out what the kinos can do, because he hears Brody's voice.

“Colonel. Hi. Rush sent James and Scott to guard everyone in TJ's quarters after you guys took that hit; he said they were in danger, didn't elaborate. Scott and his guys are on the way, James is there with her team and they're exchanging gunfire with Dannic. He's the one who threw the bombs, we got a look at him with the kino we sent to TJ's corridor. He's the only Lucian left alive, except for someone still locked in their quarters. Everybody on your team is okay, we think. But Dannic shot some of Greer's team when he ran past them.”

Christ. He tries again to move, and succeeds in shifting his arms.

“Sir,” Barnes says through the kino, “I've sent half my team to your position. Uh, Rush is almost there, we're tracking him with the kinos. He grabbed a gun and took off like a bat out of hell after you and the others went down. We weren't sure what he was doing, but I figured you didn't want me to have him shot.”

“Affirmative, Corporal.” He blinks hard and is rewarded by blurred vision; he can see the corridor walls.

Barnes continues updating him, and around him he begins to hear low groans. He orders himself to raise his head, to move his feet and hands, to not just lie here when he is needed. But a seductive thought whispers to him, you wish you could just let someone else handle your responsibilities, don’t you?

He doesn’t answer that siren, because like sailors of old, if he begins to listen he will be lost, and the weight of his unwanted responsibilities will sink him and he will drown. Probably in Brody’s alcohol.

He hears the slap of bare running feet coming towards him, and is able to force himself up on his elbows. Rush skids in next to him, on his knees, gun in hand, breathing hard and fast, a kino remote in his hand. He looks haggard, looks guilty, but doesn't say anything, just gives him an assessing look.

“I'm recovering. Go and check Greer's team. Brody said some of them have been shot,” he orders. “Dannic's at TJ's quarters and James and her team are exchanging shots with him.” Rush shoots up and flies down the corridor and out of sight.

In a few agonizingly slow minutes, his people begin regaining their sight, and ability to talk and move; he's able to sit up, then get to his knees. Corporal Baras, and Airmen Dunning, Atienza, and Becker arrive and he sends them down to aid Greer's team.

There is no more gunfire and he's afraid that Dannic has used another concussion bomb to take out the other teams. He's not willing to radio James, Dannic might be listening on a stolen radio.

“Brody, report,” he says, “Do you have a kino on Dannic?”

“We did, Colonel, but he shot it down. We're blind right now. Eli is flying another one into position, but it'll take a few minutes.”

He frees his radio, hands shaking. “Baras, report.”

“Baras here, Colonel. It's bad. Hamilton and Deacon are dead. Smith is seriously hurt, shot in the thigh. Rush is getting the bleeding under control, but Smith's gonna need surgery.”

“Have Becker carry him to the infirmary, I'll have a surgeon meet you there. What about Greer?”

“He was lucky. The bullet creased the side of his head, makes him look a bloody mess, but it's superficial. He's recovering. Nobody else was shot, Colonel. Looks like Dannic just sprayed bullets as he ran past them-- Hey! Where are you-- oh. Sir, Rush is headed back your way.”

Everett gets to his feet, looks straight at the kino. “Brody, can you spare Volker?”

Brody's steady voice broadcasts out from the kino. “Already on it, Colonel. Volker volunteered to switch on the stones with a Homeworld Command doctor and left after we flew a kino in there and saw the situation. Barnes ordered Mackie to go with him, and bring the doctor to the infirmary.”

Riley staggers over to his side and says, “Sir, Cole's helped out in the infirmary a lot.”

Nodding at Riley, he raises his voice. “Barnes, send an escort to Cole's quarters, take her to the infirmary and tell her to prep for surgery. Camile, too.”

He takes an experimental step or two, and winces. He's going to fall on his face if he tries this on his own, but he needs to get to TJ. And he needs to talk to Rush.

Addressing his team, he says, “Rush is headed this way, make sure it's him, and don't shoot him. Any of you who are recovered, come with me to TJ's corridor. The rest follow when you can.”

He hears someone running towards them and the man in question rounds a corner and runs straight to him, looking a little nonplussed at the guns that were leveled at him for a moment before he was identified.

A familiar exasperation floods Everett. God, the man has no sense of how the military works. If they hadn't had a heads up he was coming back, he could have been shot.

“Start talking, Rush,” he snaps at the other man, taking in the blood all over his hands and staining the black jacket that had once been his own with darker splotches. Rush is pale, his eyes wide, and god, he's a civilian, he should be out of this, but Everett needs him.

He motions for Rush to come with him as he starts to stagger down the halls; Rush freezes for a moment, and the expression on his face makes him look lost, but then he's against Everett's side and pulling his arm over his thin shoulders and hefting some of Everett's weight, his other arm around Everett's waist, and they make their way down to Greer's team. Everett feels dizzy but it begins to pass.

Greer has a bloody torn T-shirt wrapped around his head, and he looks like something from a zombie movie, but his eyes are clear and he's moving better than Everett is. He motions that he'll take point and Everett waves him to scout ahead.

Rush hasn't answered him yet. Everett waits until they're moving at a good pace, Rush’s wiry frame still mostly supporting Everett; close like this, he can smell the shower scent mingled with sweat and blood on Rush and he repeats his order.

“Talk, Rush. Explain what you told Brody right now. You said TJ was in danger. Why? Why her? How do you know that?”

Rush makes a frustrated sound, and then blurts out, “Simeon told me and Park. The details why and how are no important, Colonel. Kiva made your wee baby a hostage for the crew's behavior. She was gonnae announce it to the crew today that if anyone flouted her authority – aimed at you and the rest of the military most likely – she'd kill the child.”

“God!” Everett bursts out, and a murderous anger fills his belly with heat.

“Lieutenant Johansen knows. Park went to her quarters last night to tell her and she smuggled in a knife and a gun. Dannic, he's a crazy man and he's following Kiva's command, I'm that sure of it. He won't stop until he's dead, they'll be no reasoning with him.”

“Who's with TJ? Do you know?”

“Chloe, Park, and Camile.”

He wants to shake this infuriating man. Why hadn't he told him this he'd woken him up?

Snarling at Rush, knowing that this isn't helping, but damn that man for not explaining this sooner, he explodes. “If anybody in that room is hurt, if Dannic so much as touches my daughter, I'm going after you, Rush. God damn you for not telling me this sooner. We would have made getting TJ out of there the priority!”

* * *

He hears gunshots seconds before he gets to TJ's corridor and fear is roaring in his ears and he channels it, like he always does, into anger and he focuses on what the mission is and what are his assets and where is the enemy and what is his weakness. David would understand, Scott and James are learning, and he has no idea if Rush's mind works the same way. He can't, he doesn't dare, imagine what is happening right now to a woman he cares for, and the child he loved before she was even born.

James and her team sprawl unconscious in the cross corridor. He shoves at Rush's side, growling, “Check on them,” but Rush ignores that order, holding tight to him and pulls him even faster down the corridor and they catch up with Greer just down from TJ's quarters.

He sees the Lucian door breaker attached to her door and frees himself from Rush's embrace, shoves him hard away.

Scott is moving up from the other end of the corridor and in the brief glance Everett gives him he understands that Dannic has not gotten past Scott and his team.

Dannic is inside this room. He hears nothing inside, not the wail of an infant, not crying or screams or the sounds of a struggle.

A look, and Greer is in position, a nod, and the door is opened, fast, Greer covering him as he takes point on entering the room.

TJ is pointing a gun at him; Chloe and Park are kneeling next to a bleeding unconscious man on the floor, attempting to restrain him with what looks like a strip from a sheet. Chloe looks up at him, startled, and Dannic violently erupts upwards and grabs her, pulling her down on top of him ready to snap her neck before Young can shoot the bastard.

Greer's, TJ's and Young's weapons are all trained on Dannic.

“Let her go, and live,” Young says. “Homeworld Command is begging for intelligence about the Alliance.”

“Back away, and you, medic, slide my weapon to me,” Dannic says, forcing himself and Chloe up to their knees. Park is still kneeling at his side, looking frozen.

“You have nowhere to go,” Young says, using all of his will power to sound reasonable. “Give it up.”

“Do as I say or the little bitch dies,” Dannic says. “And I'll take the rest of you with me, if you come at me. My weapon, now. And lay yours down on the floor.”

If he does as Dannic has ordered, the five of them will be shot where they stand. He doesn't know where Camile and the baby are. Maybe they'd gotten out somehow. Someone had opened the doors to their cell, after all. Not Brody. Not Eli. They'd have told him.

“Tell your men in the corridor to stand down, Young,” Dannic orders, standing up and pulling Chloe up with him. “I know you have reinforcements out there. Get me a kino remote and get me Rush.” He tightens his hold on Chloe's head, and she gives a little sob.

“Don't, don't try to save me, Colonel, Ronald. Shoot him before he hurts anyone else,” Chloe says and it guts him to hear her sacrifice herself.

“I'm not giving you a weapon, Dannic. I'm not surrendering ours. We're at a stalemate, and you're injured,” he says, with a pointed look at Dannic's arm and leg, blood saturating his clothing. “You need medical attention. I can just wait until you pass out, and then take you prisoner.”

Dannic glares at him.

“Use your head and give it up now. Because if you hurt another crewmember, I'm going to disregard my standing orders to take Alliance prisoners and kill you.”

“No! Where's Rush? He can get me off this ship. I know there's a planet ahead, one that can support life.” Dannic's eyes look wild, and sweat is running down his round face and glistening on his bald head.

“I'm outside the door, Dannic,” Rush yells, louder than Young has heard him since he had screamed for help when he was being raped in the mess. “I've got the kino remote and you can see for yourself that there's no any soldiers to hinder you. Take the shuttle, and you'll be at the planet in a day's time.”

“Don't try to trick me, Kresh'ta, because you're coming with me. How will you keep Destiny from tracking the shuttle?” Dannic's expression is desperate, and he wavers for a moment on his feet; Chloe stands as still as a statue and Park shudders at times at Dannic's feet.

“Obviously, I'll put the shuttle slightly out of phase. Standard procedure, as I'm sure Ginn has explained to you.” Rush's voice drips with condescension, and inexplicably Everett flashes on Volker complaining about how Rush treats him like he’s an idiot.

“She said nothing,” Dannic growls.

“I don’t blame the lass,” Rush says, his voice pitched to carry inside the room and it sounds wrong, off, to hear him asserting himself like this. He's gotten used to Rush being silent, or whispering, not calling attention to himself, not sounding disdainful anymore. “How many times have you tried to choke her for trying to explain something to you about how this ship works? I'd not say anything not necessary at the time either. But you can ask her yourself.”

“How?” Dannic shifts on his feet, tightens his hold on Chloe, and Everett, TJ, and Greer all ready themselves to shoot.

“With the kino remote. Don't get excited, I'm gonnae slowly open the door wider than this crack and step inside. I've got the remote.”

“Go ahead,” Dannic says, “Then you stop once you're inside.”

“All right, then. I'm coming in and I'm alone.” Rush slowly opens the door and steps inside, holding a remote.

“You, woman,” Dannic says, nudging Park with his food. “Get up, open up his jacket and frisk him for weapons.”

Park gets to her feet unsteadily, and silently makes her way over to Rush. She does as Dannic asks, slowly unzipping the black jacket and holding it open, exposing Rush's brown T-shirt. After Dannic is satisfied that Rush doesn't have a weapon under his jacket, he has Park pat Rush down, feeling his arms and legs and at Dannic's order, his ass and crotch.

Rush flinches a little at her touch. His eyes meet Everett's and he stares at Everett as if Everett was on the other end of a lifeline as Park's hands touch him over and over.

“Bring me the remote,” Dannic orders and Everett wonders what Rush is playing at with this business of the shuttle being able to phase shift. Rush god damn well knows the shuttle was blown up and if Ginn is the one Lucian alive in crew quarters, how can he trust that she's going to go along with his nonsense?

Park carries over the remote and toggles it between views. Dannic is apparently satisfied that the corridor is empty. “Put Ginn on,” he orders and Park fiddles with the controls then holds it up so
Dannic can see it.

Everett can't see Ginn, but he can hear her. He doesn't know her, but he has the impression that she's young, bright, and not a die hard Alliance member. “Are you a prisoner?” Dannic asks.

“Yes.”

“Everyone is dead?” Dannic says.

“I think so. I'm not sure why I'm alive.” Ginn's voice sounds very young, and Everett can hear the tremors in her tone. “Everyone…” there is a pause, then “the Taur'i, they told me when they took me out of my quarters that the air had been vented in the other rooms. They said that Kiva is dead, Varro is dead.”

“I'm not dead, and you answer me truthfully, girl, can the shuttle phase shift, can we use it to get to the planet ahead without Destiny tracking us, like Kresh'ta says?”

Ginn doesn't hesitate. “I swear by Baal's testicles that Rush is right. But you have to enter the correct equations, did he tell you that? It's tricky and you have to match the shield's frequencies exactly when you phase shift or you'll vaporize the shuttle. Once outside of the shields the shuttle can use FTL and beat Destiny to the planet. Destiny has to use the star to repower the ship first. They'll be ample time to hide the shuttle until they go.”

“Why did you never tell me about this?” Dannic looks angry, and there's a vein throbbing on his temple.

“I told Kiva and Varro,” Ginn says placatingly, sounding scared.

“And why not me?”

Rush cuts in. “Because she didn't want to be strangled when you couldn't understand the science and math o' what she was trying to explain to you, you ignorant ass. But I'll give it a go, if you want. I assume you want to pass on the formulas, but in layman's terms, it involves the movability of singularities for harmonic functions, in the resonance domain, whereby the wavelength of the wave incident on the cloak is about the same size as its diameter, well, you actually need to vector in Maxwell’s equations to account for effects of polarization--”

“Shut up!” Dannic screams.

“So, then, you can understand why the girl didn't want to burden you with all o' that,” Rush says, and God he sounds normal. He sounds irritated, but that too sounds normal. “All you need to know is that I can make it work. So I'll take Chloe's place and we'll go.”

Rush shoots him a look, his fingers tapping on his wrist nervously, and Everett has no idea what message he's trying to send.

He has to trust Rush. He has to trust that the other man has a plan in mind. Somehow he's gotten Ginn to go along with him on this, and if she will trust him, then he will, too.

“Take him,” Everett growls. “He's been nothing but a pain in the ass, and I'll gladly swap you him for Ginn. I'll say one thing for you Lucians. You've figured out how to keep him in line.”

Dannic glares at Everett. “That's because you Taur'i are soft. You should have done as Kiva did, Young, and broken him down. Then you wouldn't have had a mutiny on your hands. So you agree to our bargain?”

“I do,” Everett says.

“Then we are in accord. Kresh'ta, I think you're forgetting your lessons with the Alliance, but I'll retrain you, put that mouth to a better use. You, woman,” Dannic says, meaning Park, “stand in front of me as a shield and the rest of you put your weapons down and slide them out of reach. Then I'll lock you in and by the time they get you out, Kresh'ta and I will be on the shuttle and off this ship.”

Park obeys, looking miserable and scared, giving the kino remote to Chloe, and Everett says quietly to TJ and Greer, “Do it.”

They lay their weapons down and kick them where Dannic motions and then Rush slowly moves till he's standing next to Chloe. Everett sees him slide his hand into hers, briefly, before letting go, and taking the remote from Chloe.

Rush holds up the remote so Dannic can check the corridor again and suddenly Dannic shoves Chloe in front of him, making her crash into Park and he grabs Rush and starts pulling him backwards towards the door.

Dannic dwarfs Rush, he's a tall, stocky man, with bulky shoulders, and a thick neck. He doesn't keep as tight a hold on Rush as he did Chloe, but his arm is around Rush's neck.

Rush's mask of irritated, superior scientist slips and Everett can see how terrified he actually is, and he thinks he won't be fooled ever again by Rush trying to hide his feelings with that facade. For him to take Chloe's place doesn't make sense, not according to the greater good, Rush's rubric for making decisions. Chloe is a sweet, wonderful girl and a real help on the ship, but Rush's skills should have trumped that, and he shouldn't have offered to take her place. He should have run like hell and let the military take down Dannic.

Not that they'd managed it, and Park has grabbed Chloe's arm and is pulling her out of the line of fire, and Dannic and Rush are through the open door, and then Dannic is out of his sight, but Everett can hear him working the door locker.

He moves forward, fast but stealthily, waiting, waiting for Rush to do whatever he was going to do. He hears Greer and TJ behind him scrambling for their weapons.

Then all is chaos as he hears Dannic scream with rage and he's rocketing into the corridor and Rush is still held in Dannic's grip, his back to Dannic's chest, but he's stabbing at the man's thigh with something small in his hand and it's a crap shoot if Dannic will remember that Rush is his ticket out of here or if he'll become so enraged that he'll snap Rush's neck. He lifts Rush off the ground as he's choking him. Something small drops from Rush's hand and clatters on the metal deck.

Everett tackles Dannic, bringing the three of them to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs and pries Dannic's arm off of Rush's neck. Rush crawls away, coughing; Everett's got his hands around Dannic's neck, he's well matched with him, and Dannic is under him, trying to roll him over, but he's not letting that happen, he's going to kill this bastard, fuck Homeworld Command and what they want. He's going to choke the life out of Dannic for threatening what is his, what he cares about and loves. For TJ, for his baby, an innocent life that Dannic would have snuffed out like stepping on a cigarette, for what he's put the crew through, for the men who he killed on his way here and for Rush, brave, inexplicable Rush, who gave him the opportunity to do this and attacked the man with something the size of Emily's nail file.

Under him Dannic is gurgling and his face is blue. Then he grows quiet and Everett lets go, not caring if Dannic is still alive or not.

TJ and Greer are next to him, and Greer is helping him up. TJ is taking Dannic's pulse, her fingers at his throat, her gun in her other hand. Rush is lying on his back, breathing hard.

It happens so fast. Dannic grabs TJ's wrist, struggles for the gun. It wavers back and forth and then a shot explodes and Dannic falls back, blood bubbling from the hole in his forehead. His eyes stare up, unblinking.

“He really dead now?” Greer asks, training his gun on Dannic's undoubtedly deceased form. “Cause one little twitch and I'll shoot his ass again.”

TJ looks shaken, but determined, and once again feels for a pulse.

“He's gone,” she said. “Colonel, is the ship secure now?” She moves over to where Rush is still sprawled on the deck, takes his pulse, asks him a few questions too low for Everett to hear except for the low murmur of their voices. She helps him sit up, and then pulls him to his feet. He leans against the wall, looking exhausted.

Scott trots down the corridor towards him, James approaches more slowly from the other end. He confers with them, then answers TJ's question.

“We're secure, Lieutenant. And you're not needed in the infirmary; a Homeworld Command doctor is here and taking care of the wounded.”

She smiles at him. “I have some things to report, Colonel, but they can wait for a little while. This can't wait any longer.”

She takes his hand and pulls him back into her quarters. Park and Chloe are sitting on the bed, and he can tell that both of them are shaken up, but they aren't crying.

TJ tells them, “We're good. It's time.”

Chloe reaches down and knocks five times on the bed frame, then she and Park stand up and tug at the mattress till it's lying on the floor.

“It's us. Rock a bye baby,” TJ says and Camile Wray sits up from a narrow, small space in the center of the frame. She holds a knife out and Park takes it from her.

Then TJ reaches towards Camile and a small bundle is passed over. “She sucked on my finger until she went back to sleep,” Camile says and the look of wonder and fierce love on her face is one he's never seen before. “She stayed as quiet as can be when that maniac was here.”

TJ kisses the baby and then she's putting her in Everett's arms, and suddenly he's aware that he's so filthy and must stink to high heaven and he shouldn't even be touching her right now, but whatever he's babbling TJ just shushes him and he's rocking his daughter in his arms and crying at the absolute perfection of her nose and tiny adorable fingers.

* * *

Notes:

The scientific babble that Rush threw at Dannic was mangled from this source.
1. Numerical Analysis of Three-dimensional Acoustic Cloaks and ...
http://arxiv.org/pdf/1103.1081Mar 8, 2011 ... Several mathematical studies of invisibility devices etc, etc.

4/17/16: Edited slightly because I was an idiot. All fixed now.

Chapter 11: Spindrift

He should go, Rush decides. Walk back to the control interface room, make sure Brody has things well in hand. But instead he's sliding down the corridor wall outside of Lieutenant Johansen's quarters until he's sitting on the deck, and lets Destiny support him. His head is pounding from Dannic's attentions and his muscles are on strike. The adrenaline that helped him run all over the blasted ship and drag the Colonel with him is dissipated and his baseline of almost total exhaustion has re-established itself.

He watches Chloe and Scott hug and kiss and looks away to give them some privacy, not that they care, and finds that Park is holding onto Greer for dear life and sobbing.

Greer leads her down the corridor, and he's quite sure she's telling him about what happened with Simeon. He hopes she keeps his part in it to a minimum, but he won't be angry if she doesn't. The desire to unburden herself to someone like Greer, who cares a great deal about her, must be very strong.

He touches the tiny screwdriver again back in its hiding place in Young's jacket cuff. He'd secured it after the Colonel had stopped Simeon from choking him, patting the deck almost blindly on his hands and knees until he'd felt its familiar contour.

He really should have told about Kiva’s threat to the child when he woke up to find himself held by Colonel Young, but he had felt panicked, raw, and – and he hadn’t thought of it. When it did occur to him that the lone Lucian who was so determined to get to crew quarters might be carrying out Kiva’s threat he had felt fear sweat breaking out all over himself.

Young had threatened him, once again. Intellectually, rationally, he knows the Colonel would not treat him the way Kiva had done. But his lizard brain, where primal emotions lurked, ready to overwhelm him with fear and anxiety, hadn’t been so sure.

Colonel Young has no idea what a leap of faith he took by ignoring his fears, responding to Dannic’s demands, taking Chloe’s place. And yes, he didn’t want to see the lass hurt, of course not, but to be honest, maybe he wouldn’t have exchanged himself for her if he hadn’t trusted Young to go after Dannic once Rush had given him the opportunity.

If Young hadn’t attacked that mad Lucian with his bare hands Rush might now be dead, with a snapped neck.

He shudders. Young is probably still angry with him. It might be best to stay out of his way for a time.

For himself, he just wants to shove it all down, all of it, and not think about it ever again. Simeon raping him in the bowels of the ship, every last Lucian degrading him and raping him over and over in the mess, the catcalls he'd faced walking down corridors, the casual comments about his official designation as ship's whore, and what positions they'd use when he was open for business again, he doesn't just want to forget about it, he wants to obliterate it. He wonders if he could use the chair to purge those horrible memories.

He drifts for a little while, leaning against Destiny’s walls; he's so tired, and he finds himself remembering Koz watching him undress, the lustful looks of appreciation he'd given him, the food he'd shared, and how he'd warned off some of the others to leave him alone. The advice he'd given him to adapt or die.

He still doesn’t understand why Koz had wanted him. He understands why Kiva had forced her people to rape him; it had been a sick way of bonding between them, and it had reinforced her dominance by utterly degrading and demoralizing him, to show the crew what happens to those who defy the Alliance. He bloody well understands why she'd demanded a volunteer from the crew to join in the rapes, making Young the stand in for the crew. For everyone else, just by witnessing it and not demanding it be stopped, Kiva had made them complicit with her punishing Rush.

Kiva is dead. He expects to feel relieved but instead he feels numb. He had been the mouse to her cat; she had toyed with him like the predator she was and he'd been desperate to escape from her attention. He shudders, remembering the overwhelming fear he'd experienced just from being forced to look her in the eyes. How she'd taken such an ordinary thing like a hair cut and terrorized him with it. He'd outwitted her in the end, though, but the damage she'd done would be with him till the end of his days.

Remembering Kiva has him clenching and unclenching his hands, and he wrenches his thoughts away from her to the Lucian who had interacted the most with him. Koz had been attracted to him and while it was hard to see why – he was no one's idea of handsome or cute, and his personality usually put people off – Koz had liked him, in his own twisted way. Had no one taught the boy that forcing people to undress in front of you while making suggestive remarks about how much they were going to like being fucked by them was not the way to court a sweetheart?

Koz had seen nothing wrong with sharing Rush with his pals, either. Rush was no anthropologist, like Daniel Jackson, blasé about other cultures and societies’ practices, but he rather thought even Daniel would have raised an eyebrow at that.

He doesn't understand himself, how he can sit here and even be thinking about Koz. It wasn't as if he'd wanted the boy to live. He could have arranged that, like he'd arranged for Ginn to be spared. He didn't vent the air from Koz's room to punish him or for revenge or because he was too traumatized to see him again. No. He'd done it because Koz was a strong young man and committed to the Alliance and he didn't know if he'd had weapons with him that might have killed one of Young's people if they'd tried to pull him out of his quarters.

He'd done it for the greater good.

Ginn didn't want to be Alliance. She'd told him she regretted her actions, the only Lucian to do so, and yes, maybe it was a gamble to leave her alive, but it had paid off. The girl had backed him without missing a beat about that utter nonsense regarding the shuttle. It had been a bit of a risk on his part, but he thought it likely that Dannic didn't know the shuttle had already been destroyed.

She was a bright little miss, and she would fit in on the ship. Eli would champion her, and the bloody IOA and Homeworld Command would have their source of intelligence about the Lucian Alliance.

He was a mass murderer.

He'd done what needed to be done, what Colonel Young should have done when the Lucians had poured in from the gate. And yes, Doctor Boone was an unintended casualty. His life had been sacrificed for the greater good, but it feels a hollow victory because of that. Still. A necessary sacrifice and if he’d known the man was in the control interface room, most likely he would have still sealed the door and vented the air.

It doesn’t mean he’s not sorry that the man was caught up in the trap Rush had laid for the Lucians. His life had value, to himself, to the ship, to the people who cared about him. And he acknowledges that, he does. Colonel Young, the crew, they never understood that about him, that he could value a person and still understand that sometimes their life had to be exchanged so that the majority of lives could be saved.

It’s all about context, really. The people who have the intelligence, the skills, to contribute the most to everyone’s survival are more valued as crewmembers. Their survival helps ensure the survival of the rest of their people. For those who don’t contribute in critical ways to the ship, well, it doesn’t negate their value in other areas, in other contexts. But, he has to focus on their survival on this ship. For this mission. He knows that Destiny was created for a purpose, something so important that the Ancients allocated so much of their time and resources to launch the ship out into the universe.

Colonel Young, he has difficulty with ordering others to lay their lives down for the good of the group, although he must have mastered this a long time ago, to have stayed in the military and risen to the rank he holds. Something has happened to him that retards this command ability, it must have. Although Rush has noticed the Colonel has no problem with trying to sacrifice himself. The man is practically drifting, nothing to anchor him to a real purpose, other than his often repeated mantra that he needs to get these people home.

He pictures what the Lucians' and Doctor Boone’s death throes must have looked like, felt like, from how he'd felt when it turned out Colonel Young had been suffocating his body to stop Telford's brainwashing. How he'd arched up, how painful it had felt, choking to death in a room filled with air.

It was for the greater good. Well, that was a bit subjective; it had been for the greater good of his side. The scientists and civilians and soldiers, Young's people and his people.

You did it for yourself an odious voice whispers to him. You didn't want to share the ship and you didn't want to be raped anymore. Be honest about this. You don't care a jot about any of the rest of the crew, what they would have faced, being hurt and raped and parceled out like prizes.

Shut it, he tells the voice. It's behind us now. Things will go back to normal and I won't have to think about the last couple of weeks at all anymore.

There's a derisive laugh in his head about that. You poor sod. Don't you realize it's all you'll ever think about, every time you lay down to sleep, every time you undress in the showers, every time someone touches you, or stands next to you and oh, by the way, when you try to walk into the mess. Kiva put her brand on you and there's no way to remove it. You're pathetic, and everyone knows it. And what about how you reacted to touch you didn't even want? You're desperate to believe it was because of that sex drug, but what if the drug just let the genie out of the bottle, eh? You'll never be able to have intimate relations again without wondering just how depraved you really are, not that anyone would want you after being the Alliance's fuck toy. Every one knows just how weak you really are, do you honestly think they're going to let you forget it?

He closes his eyes because of course the voice is right. The practical, pragmatic, tell the unvarnished truth part of himself is right about this. He's been changed and he'll never be the same again.

 

* * *

 

Maybe he dozes for a while because he doesn't know when Greer came to stand in front of him, nudging him with his foot.

He wants to feel outraged about this disrespectful gesture, but Greer's calling his name and there's no derision in his tone, so he doesn't say anything, just blinks up at the man.

“Doc, wake up. I know you're tired, man, but we gotta do this and then I'll take you to your quarters myself.”

Greer holds out a hand, and Rush doesn't want to take it, but he's a mass of inertia, and every time he flinches from an innocuous touch, not that he was ever wild about people hanging on him, then Kiva wins again.

He doesn't want her to win, to have her ghost leveling a knowing look at him when he avoids something as harmless as a crewmember helping him to stand up when he's totally knackered.

So he gets ahold of himself and grasps Greer's warm hand and levers himself up. He can hear the Colonel talking to Lieutenant Johansen, their voices an indistinct murmur through her doorway. Rush doesn't begrudge him taking time to meet his wee baby girl. He glances down the corridor and he can see Camile and Scott and James talking together. They can handle the clean up, he supposes. Let the new family spend a few more minutes together. Alone. Without him there to remind the Colonel of his failure to tell him about Kiva’s threat.

Greer moves closer, standing in front of him so that Rush is forced to be aware of him.

“You and me, Doc, we're not gonna make Lisa take a detail to go get Simeon's body. Are we?” and Greer throws in a bit of the menacing tone he likes to utilize, but it's unnecessary.

He's heard the mutters and complaints about him from the crew, starting back at the SGC and traveling with him to Icarus, and on to Destiny and for the most part he even agrees with his detractors.

He's been a jerk, an unfeeling bastard, and a devious son-of-a-bitch, or he can see how he comes across that way.

He hadn't cared. He doesn't care now what Greer thinks of him, but he, too, doesn't want to cause Doctor Park any more sorrow. She doesn't need to go to that storage room, watch Simeon's corpse being retrieved from where the two of them had hidden him.

Once he might have said something cutting to Greer, something that let the man know Rush understands where he came from, even if Greer hasn't figured out Rush knows because he, too, came from the same sort of situation. Like knows like, and Greer will realize it sooner or later.

Instead, he stays quiet, just nods his head and gestures for Greer to follow him. Greer motions for three of his people to come along with a kino sled, and they all follow Rush down corridors and into the elevator car and down more corridors until they come to the storage area Simeon had forced Doctor Park and himself to enter.

Panic starts to flood him at the thought of taking a single step inside the room, but he closes his eyes and clenches his fists and starts multiplying six digit primes, whispering to himself, while another part of his mind gives himself a stern lecture. He will enter this room; Kiva and Simeon will not take this away from him.

He opens his eyes to find Greer watching him thoughtfully. “You can stay out here, Doc. Just give me some directions.”

Shaking his head, he gestures towards the door.

“All right, man. Just you and me for now, though,” Greer says, surprising Rush with his tactfulness.

Greer gestures for the others to stay put and he pushes the door control and the large, heavy doors slide back, revealing the cavernous room and the rows upon rows of storage crates, stacked almost to the high ceiling. Rush steels himself and steps inside and Greer makes the door shut. They're alone in here, now.

“Which one?” Greer asks, and there's a grim look on his face.

Rush walks over to the row next to the wall and points to the highest one.

“How?” Greer starts, then looks to where Rush is pointing at the wheeled contraption that he and Park had used to move the containers. He's too tired to think of what the name of the thing is, although he'd used the Earth equivalent of them many a time, when he'd been a lad working on the docks in Glasgow.

Greer is as handy with it as he is at making outlandish contraptions. Possibly the fire weapon he'd devised against the alien water-drinking bugs might come in useful again, and in the back of his head he makes a note to see if Brody will work with Greer, see if he has some potential for mechanical engineering. Lord knows they could use more crew with a bent for it.

He leans against a container and thinks of what might be found within the others, and he does his best to not think about what's in the container that Greer has moved down to the deck. Greer opens the top to peer inside, tossing out the wrapped bits and pieces of replacement parts for consoles and power relay stations that he and Park had used to cover up Simeon. He reaches inside the container, and Rush can't see what he's doing, exactly, but he can guess.

Greer stares down at the body and then walks over to Rush. There's an odd look on his face, like he's contemplating doing something that's right, but still unpalatable. Like a lad deciding to eat his vegetables, but not relishing the taste of them.

“She's not a good liar, you know,” Greer says. “I knew she was leaving things out, but I wasn't going to make her tell me. You don't have to tell me either, not if you don't want to. I can see for myself what happened.”

Rush sighs and uncrosses his arms, ending the self-protective gesture he hadn't quite realized he'd been doing. He scrubs at his face with both hands, and then kneads his shoulder with a shaking hand; Greer's words have brought it back, what he'd been resisting thinking about.

Kneeling on the deck, Simeon's cock in his mouth, letting him spew his filthy come in Rush's mouth, just to have the best tactical advantage to attack him.

Hearing Simeon's words wash over him again, and the sick feeling that the bastard was right about him.

“Doc. Don't look like that, man. You did good. No, you did great. You took him down. You took a position of disadvantage and turned it around on him.”

Suddenly Rush has had enough of Greer's attempts to pat him on the back, well, not literally, not yet, but Greer's moving his arm like he's contemplating it.

It's not like Rush hasn't noticed before that the way to Greer's softer side is to make an honest struggle with something, and not whine about it, but be brave even if it's hurting you. Probably why he's so protective of the Colonel. Why he's so fond of Chloe. Why he's drawn to Park, other than her other obvious charms.

He never thought that Greer would want to take him under his wing, too, and he doesn't want it, not really.

He doesn't want to feel a warm solid arm around his shoulders, pulling him in tighter. He doesn't want to just let go for a moment and soak up that human touch, to lean against the man. He fights against the sudden tears that want to break free.

“You saved her. You saved you,” Greer says, and Rush shakes his head.

“He touched her anyway, put his filthy tongue in her mouth. I couldna stop that,” he mutters, and he's so tired. “He opened her shirts, undressed her like she was his doll. She's a good lass, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Greer says, and he’s warm and solid and the kindness in his voice is breaking Rush down.

He babbles on to distract himself from that kindness. “She’s brave and smart and quick. She didn't let what that bastard was doing stop her from taking advantage when she could. Did she tell you she grabbed the gun right off of him? Shot him, and when he lunged for her she held onto him and made him lose the gun so I could have a chance at grabbing it and shooting him again.”

“Yeah. She told me, and she told me how you stabbed him with a little screwdriver in his neck which gave her the chance to get the gun. I saw that injury, Doc. I saw what happened lower down, too.”

He doesn't want this comfort, he doesn't, it shows how weak he is, to let Greer hold him like this, like he was someone who deserved Greer's concern. He doesn't know how Rush got erect for Simeon, how he'd begged to suck his cock. It's dishonest, to keep letting Greer act this way, like Rush is somebody he's looking out for, like he fucking earned his care.

Suddenly he's spilling all of that out, angry, so angry that Greer thinks he merits a kind word, a friendly arm. He shouts how he'd begged and demeaned himself, how he'd asked to kiss Simeon, how he'd gotten hard from it, that he's a damn good cocksucker now, because he wants Greer to push him away like the dirty slut he must be.

Tears are flooding down his face. Greer, the bastard, hasn't shoved him away, so like most things in his life he'll have to take care of it himself. He tries to pull away, but Greer just says, “Doc,” and his voice is warm and accepting and he brings up his other arm around Rush, and the man is actually hugging him now and he's so tired. He fists his hands in Greer's T-shirt and he's sobbing, ugly, loud, wretched sounds, like he hasn't done since those early days after the mess when he was in the infirmary.

He cries like that until he can barely stand on his feet, and he feels simultaneously awful, with his eyes swollen and his belly tight and the huge lump in his throat, and better, like he'd been carrying a weight that had bent his back and slowed his steps and now it's been taken from him and he feels lighter.

When he's calmed down, with only occasional shudders and hitches in his breathing, Greer says quietly, “I would have taken your place on that table, if I could. I would have taken the Colonel's place, too, to spare him. I'm a soldier; I'm here to protect this crew. I couldn't protect you, or him, but I'm here now.”

Greer's voice sounds a little speculative as he squeezes Rush in a tighter hug. “You're not quite the little shit you want us to believe you are, Doc. I don't care how cranky you get, how much of a jerk you try to be, I know you now. You're a good man.”

“'M not, you know. Not a good man,” he chokes out, his eyes focused on Greer's stained shirt, and the bastard gives out an aggravated sigh.

“For a genius, Doc, you can be kinda dumb sometimes. You don't get to pass judgment on yourself, at least not about what's happened to you since the Alliance invaded Destiny. You want to head back to your quarters now?”

Before he can say he ought to go to the control interface room, Greer says firmly, “That was a rhetorical question. You're too wiped out to work. I'll radio Brody and let him know you're off shift.”

“Shower room, first,” he mumbles against Greer's chest, and wishes for a rag to blow his nose. He's dirty and there's still blood on his hands from that injured soldier; he can't remember his name. And Young's jacket, it's soaked with blood, too. He supposes he'll have to give it back now and the thought makes his heart clench a little.

Greer lets him go, and lifts an arm and smells himself. He makes a face. “Yeah, okay. Man, I can't wait to take a shower myself. Let's go, and the guys can haul Simeon's dead ass to the gate room. That's where all the bodies are being taken; we'll incinerate them with the gate when we get to the planet.”

* * *

 

It's a slow walk back up to the reclaimed areas of the ship. The Alliance had made some repairs to these areas, including the way to that storage room, or this would still be impossible to travel through without one of the suits. He wonders what these other rooms hold, but exploring will have to wait. He can barely put one foot in front of the other and when Greer asks him a question he can hardly string two words together. After the first five minutes of trudging along, Greer put an arm under his elbow, solid and strong. Rush is tempted to lean on him, and he knows Greer would let him, would pull Rush's arm over his shoulder, or even carry him like Eli and Colonel Young have done, but he doesn't want him to and Greer must be picking up on that. He's just there in case Rush goes down.

Which, yes, there's a high probability of that happening.

They're almost back to one of the more isolated shower rooms, and Rush can feel again the filth and dirt and sticky body fluids he'd rather not specify covering his skin. Most of that's in his head, he knows, some sort of tactile hallucination, but he is uncomfortably aware that's he's got actual sweat and blood on his skin and clothes.

Static erupts from Greer's radio, and the Colonel's voice comes through. He's ordering everyone except the injured in the infirmary to meet on the observation deck in a half hour. That's civilians and soldiers alike.

Greer raises an eyebrow as he gives Rush an assessing look. Then he takes the radio from his belt and requests the colonel go to channel two.

“Young here.”

“Sir, I've got Doc with me and he oughta be in bed. Permission for him to skip the meeting?”

“He needs to be there, Sergeant. See to it. Young out.”

Greer turns to him. “Sorry, Doc. There's still time for us to hit the showers, though. But once the Colonel gets a good look at you, I'm betting he takes you off shift for the next two days.”

Rush doesn't answer, he's taking things one step at a time. Literally. But a few days off the official duty roster would give him time to decipher the bridge systems, with no one breathing down his neck wondering why he'd wandered away from the control interface room.

He feels trepidation at seeing the Colonel. Once again, scenarios runs through his head, all of them involve the Colonel punishing him by fucking him. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself to think rationally. Colonel Young might give him extra duties, might not allow him to access areas of the ship, might lock him in a room, might beat him or abandon him on a planet, but he wouldn’t rape him again. He wouldn’t.

You’ve been wrong about that man before, says that same hated voice from within himself. You didn’t think he’d beat you down and leave you unconscious and condemn you to die by thirst and starvation on that desert world, so are you that sure about what he’d do to you now, to punish you? He’s seen how well it worked for Kiva to have you raped, after all.

Shut it, he orders that voice. Just fuckin’ shut it because you’re bloody well wrong about this. He wouldn’t use his dick as a weapon to force anyone to his will. Not even me.

He wouldn’t. Rush clings to that thought. Colonel Young would not ever rape him, unless it was in order to save him from something worse.

He wouldn’t blackmail Rush into having sex, he wouldn’t demand it of him in exchange for certain privileges. He wouldn’t because while the Colonel has been a weak commander at times, has certainly made mistakes with his personal life, fundamentally he is a decent bloke. Since Kiva broke Rush, he’s stopped looking at Rush like he’s a wolf out to attack Young’s flock, instead, he’s been guarded like he’s a lost lamb.

Still, the Colonel had been angry for not telling him immediately about Kiva’s plan for the babe. He’s not looking forward to attending this mandatory meeting. If he was by himself, he’d certainly go hide somewhere and claim to have been too busy working to come along or he forgot about it, but he knows that’s not going to be an option with Greer staying by his side.

Best face him and get it over with, then. The yelling, perhaps a beating, accompanied by a lecture on his failings.

He almost starts crying again when he spots the shower room he'd gone to after escorting Park back to where a kino could follow her to Lieutenant Johansen's quarters. God, but he's rubbish right now. Greer is right, he does need to sleep. For once, he thinks he'll fall unconscious without nightmares waking him up, he's that exhausted.

Three soldiers start to come out of the shower room, and call to Greer. They stand in the bloody way of the door, and Greer steers him to a wall, leaving him to prop himself up, while he goes and has a chat with them.

He should just walk past them, push them aside, so he can get clean again, but he's reluctant to do that. Conditioned, he realizes, by the Alliance soldiers to avoid groups of men in authority.

He can imagine the small smile of triumph on Kiva's face, the roll of Varro's eyes, the disgust on Dannic's face, Simeon's look of derision at his cringing away from contact with his own people.

He's expecting them to hurt him, treat him the way the Alliance did.

Maybe they will.

Maybe the disgust over what they saw him do on the table will express itself in shoves, catcalls, and groping him. Maybe they'll just turn away from him, not acknowledging him. Shunning him. In the cell where the military had been confined, some had been derisive, he'd overheard them. But most had just looked at him with pity, and he'd been protected by Young, by Scott, by James, by Barnes. By Greer, too.

Greer's here now, he won't let those soldiers say or do anything, but Greer won't always be with him.

Well. Begin as he means to go on, then, if he doesn't want Kiva to win. He pushes himself off from the wall and from somewhere within himself he finds the energy to stride forcefully towards them, channeling how he used to walk purposefully down Destiny's corridors, always heading to somewhere where he was needed, when he was still the chief scientist and Young's chief pain in the ass, but he had been the best Young had to understand the ship, and they both had known it. He keeps dredging up that earlier incarnation of himself and forces himself to keep moving toward the four men.

The soldiers part for him like he was bloody Moses, but he can't quite make himself look them in the eye and he ducks into the shower room, and into a stall and orders his churning belly to settle down.

He hears the others leave, hears Greer come into his own stall.

“You okay, Doc?” he asks, and damn it, he doesn't think he's fooled Greer one bit, not judging by his tone of voice.

“Yes, fine.” He leans against the wall, and makes himself calm the fuck down. Deep, slow breaths that stop his body from making adrenaline. Fooling himself, really, but it works. “'M tired,” he adds, a bit later after a pointed stretch of silence from Greer. He strips off his clothes and turns on the shower, and starts rinsing the blood out of Young's jacket, letting the warm, steady mist condense on his skin. He hears Greer get undressed.

“Mmhmm,” Greer says. “Ohhh, mannn, I have missed this, I have missed this so much,” he practically moans over the sound of the shower spraying its jets, and Rush's mouth quirks up a little.

He's not worried about Greer being so close to him, naked, just a shower stall away. He thinks he'll count that as a victory over Kiva.

* * *

Chapter 12

On the observation deck, crew members were sitting on the benches and couches, leaning against the railing, talking in small groups or with each other, or just staring out at the everchanging flow of colors that streamed against the shields.

It was almost time for the meeting to start, to let the crew come together again, to exorcize the Lucian Alliance from Destiny. To grieve their losses, to introduce the youngest member of the crew, to explain the role David had played, to let them know visitation with the stones would begin tomorrow for those who would like to visit their families, and that counseling would be available, both individual and group.

He watches Camile hand the baby back to TJ and make her way over to his side. Carmen Johansen has been admired by half the crew, and TJ has had multiple offers to babysit. The story of how the baby had been protected from Dannic's murderous rampage had spread like wildfire through the crew; it was sure to become one of the stories repeated as ship legend over cups of Brody's moonshine in the future.

“Colonel,” Camile says, and gives him a small smile. “You must feel better after getting a chance to clean up.”

“You mean smell better,” he says drily.

“That, too,” she shoots back, looking mischievous for a moment, but she's suddenly serious again. “We have to talk about Ginn.”

He'd shut her out about what he was going to have to do to end David's brainwashing the first time. He'd considered explaining, but ultimately, David was military; it was military business, not civilian. Still, he'd had a lot of time thinking about all the mistakes he'd made while he'd been locked up. He could have done a better job with her. And Scott. From their point of view it had probably looked like another Mutiny on the Bounty situation was blooming. He would include her on this, at least.

He inclined his head towards her, saying quietly, “She's locked in her quarters and not going anywhere. She's willing to give us information on the Alliance, she says. I'm not sure I trust her, but Rush seems to; she did back him on the horseshit he was spoonfeeding to Dannic about the shuttle. What's your take on the girl?”

“I didn't really interact with her, but I gathered from Kiva that she was doing a fairly good job running the science teams. She can be a valuable asset, Colonel.”

“Oh, Eli's already bent my ear all about how much she could contribute. How do I know she won't double cross us?”

“Rush might vouch for her; if he thinks she can be trusted then she probably can. She was saved for a reason.”

“And that's a mystery that hasn't been cleared up yet. Who vented the air from the Alliance quarters, all but hers? Dr. Boone? Did he sacrifice himself or was he just caught in the trap set for the Lucians? Did Destiny do it?”

“What about Rush?” Camile offers, but her expression is shadowed.

“I took him out of his locked quarters myself, but I asked Eli to look into it again. A few minutes ago he told me that he'd checked the kino footage and it showed Rush being locked in his room last night, like Riley had told me.”

“After what happened with him and Lisa and Simeon?”

“Yeah.” Poor bastard, Everett thinks. Rush hadn't said anything to him at all about it, but TJ and Camile had told him. They also told him they thought there was more to the story, but they weren't going to press Doctor Park about it. Everett doubts that Simeon had dragged Rush along just to have an audience. He remembers how the Lucian had acted when Rush had been released from the mess. He'd promised him that he wasn't done with Rush. af No, Simeon had tried something with Rush, he was sure of it. Another sin to add to Everett's account, for not stopping the Lucians immediately by venting the gate room.

He shrugs. “Anyway, it couldn't have been Rush. Eli went over the program that kept the crew locked into their quarters at night, and it was working for Rush as well as everybody else.”

Camile sighs. “Another unsolved mystery to add to our growing collection. I wonder if we'll ever know what happened to poor Franklin.”

“We're not quite a modern day version of the Mary Celeste, Camile,” Everett says. “There's a reason why Franklin disappeared and a reason why those compartments were vented. Let's downplay the spooky aspects while we get it figured out.”

“You mean, while Rush gets it figured out,” Camile says and nods her head towards the doors.

Greer and Rush are entering, and Rush finds a spot against the wall as far from the rest of the crowd as possible and as near the doors as to almost be out in the corridor. Everett catches Greer's eye and glances meaningfully at Rush and crooks a finger. Greer gives him a dubious look but goes over to Rush and slides a hand under his elbow. He talks to him for a minute before they start to make their way through the crowd. He's not sure if Greer is dragging Rush up to the front of the room or making sure he doesn't collapse on the way.

When Greer deposits Rush next to him, he decides it's the latter reason. Rush looks terrible; his eyes are red, and the circles under them are even darker and larger than he remembers from waking the man up earlier today. He's shaking a little and he looks profoundly exhausted. He runs both hands through his damp hair and just looks at Everett. It’s not hard to read him, not when he’s ready to fall over. He’s anxious, and there’s dread in his eyes. Everett’s got a feeling he knows why.

He gives Rush a reassuring look, smiles at him. A real smile, not the one that David calls his shark smile, and slowly reaches out and puts one hand on his shoulder, squeezes it gently.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “I’m glad you’re here.” He can literally feel some of the tension leave Rush’s body as the man sways just a little. Copying Greer, he moves his hand to support Rush’s elbow.

“You're not to go back to work for a couple of days, after we're done here,” he tells Rush firmly and is a little baffled when Rush looks amused for a moment. “I mean it, R… uh, Doc,” he amends.

“Fine,” Rush says, and the lack of argument alarms him.

“Do I need to get TJ to look at you?” he asks, ready to call her over.

Rush looks confused. “Why?”

“You said, 'Fine,'” Everett says, and puts a palm on Rush's forehead to feel for fever. His skin feels cool and he drops his hand. Rush rolls his eyes at him, but doesn't say anything.

“You want to sit down?”

Rush shakes his head so Everett keeps his other hand under Rush’s elbow.

He'd felt so angry with Rush earlier, when Rush hadn't told him about the danger to Carmen until Dannic was making his way to TJ's quarters. But Rush had sent James and Scott to help, had raced down there himself to Everett's side and had practically carried him until he'd recovered from the concussion bomb and had used his wits to trick Dannic into leaving TJ's quarters. He'd attacked Dannic and been choked by him giving Everett the opportunity to jump that bastard.

And now he'd learned that Rush had been kidnapped by Simeon last night and probably sexually assaulted. And Rush had been so out of it when Everett had woken him up.

“This morning you should have told me right away that Kiva was going to make Carmen a hostage,” he tells Rush, then when Rush looks perplexed, like he's not taking in what Everett is saying, he clarifies, “the baby. Her name is Carmen.”

Rush nods, looks down. “Sorry. I'm sorry, truly.”

“Between being exhausted, and what ever happened with Simeon, you weren't thinking straight. I get it now and it's okay. I didn't want you to worry about what I said to you.”

“All right,” Rush said softly, still looking down at the deck. “Can I go now?”

“I still need you. I want you and Camile to stand with me while we talk to the crew. Camile's going to handle talking about the memorials for the people we lost, and about the counseling she's setting up and the stones schedule.”

Rush looks at him, wide eyed. “I have nothing to say, Colonel,” he says, and Everett hears panic building in his words.

“You don't have to say anything. Just be next to me. Please. We need to show the crew that despite everything that happened we are working together and that things are going to go back to normal.”

In other words, he's asking Rush to show the crew that he forgives Everett for raping him in front of them.

Rush shoots him a complicated look and glances longingly towards the doors; he clenches his hands, but he nods.

Everett decides that he'll walk Rush back to his quarters when the meeting is done himself. They can have that talk Rush had promised him. Rush has agreed to make the crew believe they've put what happened between them on that table behind them, but Everett wants to know the truth.

Maybe, he thinks, he and Rush will sleep better by not putting it off. They need to be straight with each other, now more than ever.

* * *

Everett tells the crew what they need to hear from him about how the ship was retaken and Rush keeps to the unspoken promise he made him; he stands next to him, almost shoulder to shoulder. Camile is on his other side, addressing the crew. She's also standing close and he's not sure why either of them are doing this for him.

Well, not for him. Not really. It's for the good of the crew; the people on this ship, especially the civilians, have always been Camile's first priority, and for Rush he's pretty sure that the good of the crew translates into more efficient worker bees for the hive that is Destiny.

Destiny has enthralled Rush, something he's known since he regained consciousness after landing on the deck of this ship. The man is a bit of a jealous lover, too, only grudgingly teaching the rest of the Science Team what he learns so they can work independently without him.

Rush probably had a point in the beginning that it took too long to bring the others up to speed, and he couldn't spare the time to teach them what he himself was learning in leaps and bounds.

But that's not the case now, and Rush is valuable, is certainly needed on the ship – as Everett learned after leaving Rush behind – but the Science Team can do without him for as long as it takes for Rush to really rest and sleep and stop radiating the profound, deep exhaustion he's fallen into.

If Rush could hide it, he would. The fact that it's just so evident, judging by the looks the crew shoots his way, proves that he needs time off.

Even Rush knows he can't work like this but truthfully, it worries Everett that he hadn't even made a token protest again Everett's order. Rush has followed his orders before, but he has a way of letting Everett know that the reason he is doing it is because he just happens to agree with him.

After the surgery to remove the tracker from the man's chest, Rush had gone back to work too soon. He could barely walk, stayed hunched over the console, and it was clear he was in pain. Everett had been worried about him, but had decided to give him enough rope to hang himself. He'd wait till Rush collapsed, or fell off his stool before ordering him back to the infirmary.

Except Rush didn't collapse. By sheer bloody mindedness, he'd kept on working and Everett had to respect that about him.

So Rush agreeing to be on down time now felt off kilter. Was this Kiva's doing? The conditioning to obey directives immediately and without argument, was that still effecting Rush? He'd lied to Dannic, he'd defied him, he'd killed Simeon; Everett assumed that Rush's true nature was reasserting itself.

Maybe this is a one step forward, two steps backward kind of thing. He’ll watch Rush, watch out for him, watch over him. He owes him, but it’s more than paying back a debt. They are entangled, in so many ways, and their relationship is probably the most complicated one he’s even been in. They’d hit bottom once before, when he’d left Rush to die on a hot, dry world. When he’d gotten him back from the Nakai, he’d sworn to make things better between them. He’d never envisioned raping him to save his life.

Camile is explaining to the crew why debriefing after a traumatic event was helpful, and that a schedule would be posted in the mess for the mandatory individual sessions. Also, and she gives Rush a quick glance, a support group would meet every night after dinner for the next week and she’s encouraging everyone to come to it who was experiencing unsettling feelings. Individual counseling sessions with her or with a counselor from Homeworld Command will be arranged for anyone who wished it.

She looks over at Rush again, but if she thinks Nicholas Rush would voluntarily come to any sort of counseling sessions, where he'd have to talk about feelings, then she is deluding herself.

Rush has a glazed, far away look on his face, and it tugs at him. He's seen that expression before.

Crap. Rush isn't taking any of this in. He's sent himself off to wherever he'd gone sometimes when he was being tortured on the table. It was time to end this meeting.

Catching Camile's eye, she nods and turns things back over to him. He explains that Colonel Telford was currently confined to quarters until they could undo the effects of the brainwashing.

He is not looking forward to that. Watching his friend die in Rush's body had been hard enough. Watching him do it in his own would be worse.

There are several more things he needs to wrap up before dismissing the crew.

“Ginn is the only Lucian left alive, and she's agreed to cooperate with us. From what she's told us, she was forced to join the Alliance or they would have killed her family. I'm sure none of us have difficulty in believing that. She will be interrogated by Homeworld Command, and placed on probation. From what Eli and the Science Team tell me, she'll willingly work with us and her skills are considerable.”

Looking into the eyes of this crew, Eli, James, Chloe, Becker, Brody, Park, Volker, Airmen and Marines, these people who were forced to come here, who have almost died from lack of air, been on short rations with water and food, have been ill from alien bugs, who have been forced to watch torture, with some of them being tortured themselves or raped, hurt by the Lucian Alliance, he knows some of them will need more to have closure.

Some of them have worked with the Alliance scientists, some of them, like TJ, were protected by individuals in the Alliance. For good or bad, his crew had become entangled with the Lucians.

“The bodies of the Lucians have been carried to the gate room. When we reach our next planet, they will be incinerated by the gate. We simply do not have the time or manpower to dig graves. Until that time guards will be posted at the gate room and no one will be allowed in, except those who would like to either pay their respects or who need to find closure. The bodies are to be treated respectfully, however, due to our situation, some clothing and other personal items of the Lucians have become property of Destiny, to be given out as needed. This is in no way intended to be for revenge or for trophies. The Lucian Alliance is our enemy, but they are a practical people. I believe they would not begrudge our actions.”

“Airman Smith is recovering in the infirmary, but we have suffered casualties. Doctor Boone, and Airmen Hamilton, Deacon, and Rivers, and they will be buried or incinerated by the gate according to the wishes they left on record. On board memorials will be planned after we leave the planet. Ms. Wray will be in charge. Lieutenant Scott will have your assignments for the planet excursion once we determine it's safe to go.”

“The mess will open in an hour, and for today, at least, Becker is authorized to give everyone double rations. Dismissed.”

He slides in front of Rush, earning a curious look from Camile, and deflects the few people who come up to talk with Rush by small shakes of his head when they try to peer around him. Eli starts to protest, but Chloe takes him by the arm and they leave. Most people are gone in a few minutes. Scott's in charge of the guard detail for the gate room and Everett hears him ordering Dunning and Baras to stand first shift.

TJ is sitting on a bench, nursing the baby. His daughter. Carmen. He thinks it's the most wonderful name he's ever heard. Finally, TJ, Camile, Rush, and himself are the only ones left in the observation room. He turns around to check on Rush and finds the man is still lost somewhere else.

“Doc,” he says, and pats him awkwardly on the shoulder. He remembers the time he'd expressed feelings of fondness that had fountained up for Rush when he'd saved their bacon and he'd put a hand on his shoulder, ruffled his hair.

He'd lost that feeling soon after, of course. He just couldn't be neutral about his obstinate, brilliant, devious chief scientist.

Awareness comes back into Rush's eyes and he looks out at the empty room.

“It went okay,” Everett tells him. “C'mon. Let's take that walk to your quarters. Unless you want to wait and go to the mess. Double rations, and not just for you. I think we all need a break, and I'm gambling the planet will be a good one for us for replenishing our supplies.”

Rush shakes his head. Wraps his arms around himself and Everett frowns. “You okay?” Rush looks pale and his features have sharpened since he'd spent nights with Everett in the detention cell. Well, probably every one has lost weight lately. Rush never had any to spare, though.

He's interrupted by TJ coming up to them. She smiles, but it's sad, all the same. “Camile, would you watch Carmen for a while. I... Well, I'm going to the gate room and that's no place for her.”

Varro, Everett guesses. He saved TJ's life, and it was obvious he'd fallen for her.

Camile is murmuring her assent, but he surprises himself by reaching for Carmen. “I'll take her. She's going to have to get to know her old man, after all.”

It's the first time he's said something to Camile that directly acknowledges his paternity. Back on Icarus, she would have reported him for the rules he'd broken with TJ.

Now, though, she just looks thoughtfully at him. “Yes, I think this little girl does need to be with her daddy.” She'd known, of course. The entire ship knows, but no one except TJ had ever talked with him about being the baby's father. “Colonel, Homeworld Command wants to speak to Ginn. I'll go over the stones protocol with her and she can go now.”

He nods, and radios Greer to meet Camile at Ginn's quarters and she leaves, after patting TJ on the arm. Rush goes with her as far as a bench that faces the large window and collapses on it. Camile sits down next to him with an earnest expression on her face, murmuring to him. After a few moments, Rush shakes his head, and Camile leaves.

TJ's face crumples as she settles the baby in his arms; she must find it hard to leave her. She's so tiny, after all. “If she starts to cry you can radio me. She's been fed and changed, so she should sleep.”

Well. Might as well tell her what else he'd been thinking. He'd told her that they'd make this work, and he wanted desperately to be a good father. “You know, I was thinking, if you wanted to do this, that is, that we could have Brody cut doors from my quarters to the one next door, and that you could move into the quarters next to that one, with internal doors, too. Carmen's room could be the one in the middle.”

TJ says, “Like a family suite?”

“Yes. I can't feed her, not until she's ready for baby food, but I can maybe hold her at night and let you get some sleep if she's fussy?”

Her eyes growing wet, TJ says, “I'd like that, sir.” She slips a bag over his other shoulder. “That's got spare diapers and clothes, in case you need them.”

He wants to ask her about Varro, but doesn't. He's got no right to do that. TJ had been furious and disgusted with the man, after what he'd done to Rush, but Varro had also saved her life. Saved Carmen's life, too.

“Meet you back in the mess, then?” he asks instead.

“Yes. Unless you need me to take the baby before it opens,” she says, and touches Carmen's cheek. The baby makes a small soft sound, and TJ smiles down, looking so beautiful, so loving. Carmen has been blessed to have a mother like her.

He hopes he can live up to being a good father. He's going to try with everything he has.

“Before I go, I want to talk to Doctor Rush,” TJ says. “He doesn't look well, and I'm concerned.”

“Yeah, I told him he was off work for the next couple of days and he didn't even scowl at me. TJ, he's lost weight. He's really exhausted.” He shifts the baby a little and feels her squirm against him. He's known for months that Carmen was on the way but the reality that he has a child didn't hit him until he'd held her. He would do anything for this little human. He feels rage building back up towards Kiva and Dannic and the rest of the Alliance members that would have allowed his baby to be used as a hostage, and killed. He tamps it down, because what if the baby can sense that anger? He buries it, but he knows it will always be there.

TJ goes over to Rush and drops down on the bench beside him, talks softly to him; when TJ puts the stethoscope around her neck into her ears and unzips Rush's jacket Everett turns away to give them more privacy. He walks his daughter closer to where the shields splash color as Destiny sails through this galaxy and whispers promises that he will give his life to keep.

* * *

They walk to Rush's quarters in silence. Everett is thinking about how to say what he wants to say and anyway, Rush looks like he needs all his concentration to just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

When they make the last turn into Rush's corridor, the man clears his throat. Everett look over at him, and sees him fingering his jacket sleeve. His uniform jacket is large on Rush; where it was snug across Everett's chest, there's fabric to spare on Rush. He's not that much taller than the guy, maybe has a couple of inches on him, but Rush is small framed. Everett's built like a brick outhouse, a charming observation that David liked to make about him.

“You'll be wanting this back, then,” Rush says, and it's not a question.

He remembers what Rush had told him, when they'd both been prisoners in the cell. Young's jacket had helped Rush to cope with what had been done to him. A symbol, maybe, of being taken away from the hellhole that had been the mess.

“You can keep it,” he tells him. “If you want.”

“Won't that be against Air Force rules, then?”

“I've broken more important regulations. It's helping still? With what you told me?”

Rush looks away, nods.

“It's yours then. Anybody says anything, send them to me.”

Rush doesn't answer him, doesn't thank him. He's looking down at the deck as he walks, and God, it must be so hard for him to accept this from Everett.

He's saved from the awkwardness by Carmen scrunching up her face and letting out an outraged bellow that startles him. She's wiggling and one little arm has come loose from the blanket and she's flailing it around.

“Ut-oh,” he mutters and shifts her so she's against his chest. He pats at her back softly. She wails louder.

He looks over at Rush, starting to feel out of his depth but damn it, he doesn't want to have TJ come rescue him not twenty minutes after she'd left the observation deck.

Rush lifts his eyebrows and a hint of a smirk is playing on his lips. “I see you have things well in hand, Colonel, as always.”

“Shut up, Rush. I suppose you could do better,” he says, and he's not annoyed, well, maybe a little, but it feels good to hear the snark in Rush's tone. He jiggles Carmen, but she's not appeased by what he's doing.

Rush snorts. “As a matter of fact, I'm certain I can do better. Better than you, at least. Give her to me,” Rush says, and he holds out his arms.

“You're so tired you'll drop her.”

“I would do no such thing. Give her to me and I'll show you what to do. Unless you want your wee girl to keep screaming like that.”

They're almost at Rush's door. Maybe there's room for compromise. “I'll let you hold her if you sit on your bed. Take it or leave it.”

“I wouldna drop her; I'm no tha’ tired,” Rush complains as they entered his quarters, but the way his accent has gotten stronger tells Everett the opposite. He sits on the bed and looks expectantly up at Everett. “Give her over, 'fore she becomes so wound up it takes forever to calm her down.”

Everett chews his lip, deciding, but the baby keeps doing that tiny baby wailing and the sound is goddamn heartbreaking. He places the baby in Rush's waiting arms.

“Okay, smart guy. Let's see what you got,” he says, and sits down next to him.

 

* * *

Rush is actually a decent teacher once he stops giving Everett superior looks because Carmen calmed down after he wrapped her blanket tightly around her. He does some sort of crooning song-sounds while she's snuggled up high on his shoulder and pats her firmly, about twice as hard as Everett had been doing, and tells her she's a good lass for burping like she's been chugging beer. Before she falls asleep, Rush gives him a lecture about swaddling and demonstrates various positions to hold her in to help her relieve gas and have a nice poop. Rush's words, not his. Rush is kind of laughing at him, but it's good, really, to see him like this.

And then he has to go and spoil it by asking if Rush had ever wanted children. Rush's expression closes down, and Everett doesn't know if he should apologize for asking or just change the subject.

Rush gives him the baby. Sighs, while Everett is preoccupied with getting her into a comfortable position against his shoulder.

“We did,” he says, finally. “But when my wife had cancer the first time, the doctors had to...” he stops. “Well, she couldn't have children after that.”

“I'm sorry,” he says, and yeah, it's something you say when you're told something like that, but he means it.

Rush looks at him, smiles a little. It's a real smile, not his sardonic smirk. “Gloria, she mothered many a violin student. Now, lay that baby down and let's see you swaddle her this time. Mind you tuck the bottom of the blanket up before wrapping the other side round her.”
.
* * *

Both of them had been focused on the baby and Everett missed till now that there's a bowl of protein paste and a water bottle on Rush's small desk amidst the clutter of his notebooks and other paraphernalia.

Everett stands up, holding Carmen, and tries to hand the bowl and water bottle to Rush, figuring he might as well learn how to do things one-handed. Now that Rush isn't playing teacher, his eyes are drooping and he's yawning. He's not tracking what Everett is doing.

“Hey, Rush,” he says. “Someone brought you dinner. Eat it before you crash.” He hasn't talked about anything he meant to, not yet, and by the looks of things, he doesn't have much time before Rush just passes out.

Rush looks up at him sleepily and then catches his breath. “You said my name. You said my name, and it was all right.”

His eyes are so intense. So dark. He puts a fist to his mouth and a few tears slip down his face.

Everett puts Rush's dinner on the bed next to him. “Yeah, I guess I did. I think I did earlier, too, you just didn't notice. You're getting better, aren't you? The way you talked to Dannic, you sounded normal.”

Rush wipes the tears off his face. “That was play acting. I'm a right mess, I'm afraid.”

“I wouldn’t call it play-acting. It was you breaking through the constraints from every God-damn thing they did to you. Things will get better.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’ll help you. TJ, Camile, Eli, Chloe, we’ll all help you.”

Rush gives him a puzzled look. “How can anyone help me? No, I think this is something I have to do alone.”

“That’s not what Camile says. That’s why she’s arranging for counseling for the crew. I’m not sure you actually took in that part of the briefing. You weren’t there, not mentally, not for all of it.”

Rush looks away. “Yes, well. . .” he begins and then trails off.

“Are we good? Don't get me wrong. I'm not sorry I did what I did, because it meant saving your life. But I'm so sorry it had to happen. I'm sorry that you were ever put in that position.”

Rush looks up at him. “I don't know, Colonel. I know you did it to save me and I'm not afraid you're going to rape me again. But you made mistakes, and I paid the price. I should feel angry; maybe I will later. I don't know, I just don't know.”

“Fair enough. Would you give counseling a try? It might help you sort things out.”

Rush snorts and shakes his head. “It's hard enough talking to you and Greer. I don't want to talk to Camile or some stranger.”

“Okay. I'm not going to push you.”

Rush rolls his eyes. “You've been pushing me to fall into line since we met, Colonel.”

“That was different. That was for the program; it wasn't personal. Not until you made it that way.”

“Are we doing this now?”

“No. No, you're exhausted. And we don't need to rehash the past. Do you want to talk about Simeon? What happened with him before you killed him?”

Rush gives a lackadaisical wave of his hand. “I did what I had to do.”

“Rush.”

“No, once today is enough to talk about that bastard. Greer heard all about it, ask him.”

A look of relief crosses Rush's face. “I can say no again.” His eyes grow wet and he looks at Everett like he's hoping he can stop it. He's not used to seeing such honest expressions from Rush, but he's pretty sure Rush doesn't want to cry any more. He probably wouldn't if he wasn't so god damned exhausted and worn down.

“Saying 'No.' That's a skill I'm sure you'll be using on me frequently,” Everett says lightly, and Rush laughs, his hand covering his mouth, like he's trying to hold it in.

There was a tinge of hysteria to that laugh, and Everett decides he needed to let the guy eat and go to bed.

“I'm gonna go. One last thing; where did you learn to take care of tiny babies?”

“That'll be my secret, Colonel.” Rush smirks at him, then picks up the spoon and starts shoveling the paste in his mouth.

“Seriously? It's not like it's classified information. Tell me.”

Rush pauses, spoon filled with paste, and looks panicked.

Fuck. He's an idiot. He didn't think about Rush's conditioning to obey directives, whether he wanted to or not. “Forget it. You don't have to tell me. You can keep your secrets.”

“Thank you,” Rush whispers, and he feels like such a jerk. “For now, I'd like to keep things to myself. Someday I'll tell you about them. When I'm ready.”

“Sure. Get some rest. And Carmen thanks you for giving her old man some tips. TJ's gonna be impressed. I'm sure she expected me to call her in a panic by now.” He takes a chance and squeezes Rush's shoulder again, like he had before the meeting started. Rush lets him without flinching.

He goes to the door, Carmen a warm limp weight against him. He watches Rush finish the paste off in record time and drink some water, setting the bottle and bowl down on the floor next to the bed. He dims the light, pulls the covers down and gets in, still fully dressed. They're going to have to find him some shoes or boots.

“You won't be locked in any more,” Everett says, and leaves, pushing against the door control once he's out in the corridor.

Rush and his secrets. Still, he'd talked about his wife, and that was a first. He supposed eventually whatever he was keeping to himself would come out.

* * *

TJ is waiting for him at the mess, and she eagerly takes Carmen from him, while he tells her that the baby had gotten a little fussy but went back to sleep after burping. He sheepishly admits that Rush, of all people, had given him a hand. TJ's arched eyebrows had risen, but she hadn't commented.

It's crowded. There are people sitting at tables, talking to each other, playing cards, drinking tea, waiting for Becker to bring food out.

He notices that nobody is sitting at one table, and thinks that's odd. He walks over and feels like he's been sucker punched in the gut.

It's Rush's table, the one that he'd been chained to, like an animal. The one where he'd been fucked by the Alliance and by David. By him. It's filthy, dust has adhered to where sticky fluids had collected, and he can see bloodstains.

Nobody has cleaned it up. How could these people just sit here, have come in here for weeks and just ignored where a man had been tortured before their eyes, and not washed the evidence of rape and humiliation away.

He clenches his fists, and then TJ is at his side. “Sir,” she says. “Everett, don't say anything yet. We weren't allowed to clean the table up. Kiva kept it this way so we all would have to see it and remember what happens to people who defy her.”

“Kiva's dead,” he tells her, gritting the words out.

“Kiva's dead,” he roars out to the people are watching him, some being nudged by their neighbor to turn around. “Kiva is dead, and this table is an abomination. Some of you,” and he points at the people sitting at the table closest to the kitchen area. Brody, Volker, Riley, Eli, Chloe, Scott. “Get a bucket and some rags from Becker.” When they sit, there, looking shocked, he adds, “Now, people. Move.”

He stares at the table and remembers how Rush had fought against being held down, how he'd cursed at his rapists until his voice had faltered, how he'd cried, how he'd bled, and how he'd been forced to piss himself.

The jeers and taunts of the Lucians, the way they'd made Rush beg for food and water. How they'd humiliated him, cut his hair, pissed on him. Raped him.

He remembers vividly how it had felt to fuck him, how hot his passage had felt around Everett's dick, how David had looked at him across Rush's body when between the two of them they'd made him come. How after he'd orgasmed for him and David, how dead Rush's eyes had looked, before he slipped away to somewhere in his mind where he wasn't being degraded and hurt by people who should have been protecting him instead of participating in this fuck orgy.

It was his fault, what happened to Rush. To the crew. The deaths, the injuries, the sexual assaults, the helplessness of being held prisoners on their own ship.

He should have stuck with the plan to vent the gate room. Maybe they could have revived David, when he came through the gate with the Lucians, but he'd hesitated and this was the result. A crew that had been traumatized, his chief scientist damaged and left fragile, and faith in his command probably beyond repair.

Chloe hands him a bucket and a rag. It has Destiny's version of dish soap in it, some chemical that evaporates after you've wiped it on a surface. She's crying, but she's also holding a rag, and next to her Volker and Brody, Riley and Scott, James and Greer with his arm around Park, Barnes and Eli are also there, holding their own rags.

“Sir,” TJ says again, Carmen on her shoulder, and he reads a multitude of messages in that one word. Don't take your anger at yourself out on the crew. Remember they were conditioned to avoid that table. They're sorry, of course they are. Let them help, it will be healing for them. For you.

He takes a deep breath. “Kiva is dead. Let's do this. For Rush. For ourselves.” He dips the rag into the bucket and exchanges it for Chloe's dry one. He does the same for everyone who's volunteered to help.

He nods to them and they all find spots to scrub, the bench seats, the legs, the top of the table.

The table looks like the other ones when they're finished, but he still feels revulsion towards it. Judging by the looks on the faces of the crew, he's not the only one.

They are short of resources on Destiny, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made.

“I don't think any of us ever want to sit at this table again,” he says to the room. “Take it out of here and to the gate room; we'll incinerate it when we reach the planet.”

Other volunteers step up and grab the sides and he watches with the group who helped him clean as the table is taken out of the mess.

“Thank you,” he says to them. “Thank you.” Eli takes the bucket from him, collects the rags, walks out of the mess with them. Chloe wipes her face free of the tears that had dripped down her face and Scott takes her hand. He nods to them and the others and they wind their way back to their places.

He sits down next to TJ, but finds himself staring at the space the table had occupied. He'd hoped that removing it would free him of his memories.

It hasn't. Over and over, the refrain in his head is chanting, accusing, judging.

This was all your fault.

* * *

Chapter 13

Everett came back to his own body, with the familiar disorienting wrench that accompanies swapping consciousness with the stones. Apparently Captain Malloy had not napped while Everett had been on Earth reporting to O’Neill and the IOA, because he feels more exhausted now than when he’d exchanged bodies with the man five hours ago.

He supposes TJ and the baby are asleep; he isn’t going to chance waking his daughter up just so he can kiss her goodnight.

He stands, nodding at Sergeant Riley.

“Welcome back, sir,” Riley says.

Riley has always been honest, a good soldier, and a perceptive young man. Everett needs to take the pulse of the people under his command, and so he smiles at Riley. Riley gives him a questioning look back.

“Sergeant, permission granted to speak freely or you can tell me no. How do you think people are doing, now that we’ve retaken the ship?”

Riley looks troubled. “This is just me, sir, what I’ve thought about. Of course everyone is glad to be free again, and those of us that were in that cell are thrilled to be out of it, to be able to get clean, and have a good meal. Everyone I’ve talked to is happy that TJ – er, Lieutenant Johanson’s baby is okay.”

“What about Ginn? What’s the crew saying about her being spared to join the crew?”

“Some are suspicious of her, but the Science Team are on her side. It’s weird that she was saved, out of all the Lucians,” Riley says. “There are two theories about that, and how the rest of the Lucians were killed. Some people think Doctor Boone did it and sacrificed himself for us. Other people think that it was the ship.” A complicated look crosses his face. “I hope it was Doctor Boone. Because, sure, if it was Destiny then what else can she do to us? It’s super creepy, like Eli said.”

“What else, Hunter?”

Riley stayed quiet, his blue eyes thoughtful. “People are counting on this planet coming up to refill our supplies. They’re wondering how we can keep invaders from coming through the gate again.” He hesitates, and then says, “There’s been some talk, about who had it rougher, us, or the civilians. And some of the civilians are – well, not accusing each other, not exactly – but making some comments that some people seemed to be getting along really well with the Lucians.”

Ah. He’ll have to try to put a stop to that. He doesn’t need talk of collaboration with the enemy dividing the crew.

“Dr. Rush . . .” Riley begins, and trails off.

“What about him?”

“He didn’t look very good at the briefing. Everybody noticed. I talked with Eli, and he said that Rush had a really hard time of it, after he was released from the infirmary. That he was harassed, that he was too quiet all the time – not like before, when he was quiet because he was above responding to what people were jabbering about, like he had more lofty important things to do with his time and the rest of us sounded like jabbering monkeys to him – this was Rush being terrified of people. Even us. Even Dale Volker, for God’s sake. It really bothers Volker, too.”

“He’s pulled himself together when it counts, though. He proved that with the whole Dannic situation.”

“Eli said that Rush has flashbacks sometimes.”

“What about the crew? We all saw what the Lucians did to him.”

“I can’t really speak for everyone. But a lot of people felt really bad for him. And . . .? For you, sir. For what you had to do, too.”

He does not want to open that personal can of worms with Riley, so he ignores what he said about him. “But some people think what? That Rush got what he deserved, finally? For bringing us here?”

Riley nods, looks solemn. “Yes, sir.”

“What about Colonel Telford? What’re people saying about him?”

“A lot of people think he can’t be trusted, even if the brainwashing is fixable. If it can be fixed. Twice like that? He’s not trusted, not like you are, sir.”

“So I’m trusted, then, to do the right thing for the crew?”

Riley hesitates. “The people in your command are with you, sir.”

There’s something about how Riley said that. “Out with it, Hunter. This is off the record, and I’d like to know. I’ll say it. Some of the crew, military and civilian, think I bungled this whole Lucian situation by not venting the air in the gate room until it was too late to make a difference.”

Riley nods. “They understand why you didn’t, because Colonel Telford, or at least his body, came through with the Alliance. Still, a lot of people think you made a mistake by not venting the air anyway. Sir.” He looks profoundly uncomfortable.

What is he doing, he asks himself, to put Riley in a position of confidence about his commanding officer. He’s strayed from gathering intel on the crew to having a conversation with a junior officer that he shouldn’t be having. Jack O’Neill would be giving him the stink eye right now if he was here.

“Okay, Hunter. Has Camile told you when it’s your turn to use the stones?”

He turns the conversation back into safe pathways, and leaves Riley to finish his shift with the stones in peace and quiet.

* * *

He’s tired, sure, but four hours of tossing and turning has gotten him up and out of bed, pulling on his uniform. There’s nothing like counting up all the mistakes you’ve made in life to make sure insomnia chases away any decent rest. He wants a drink, but he’s holding off on that for now.

For now. Tomorrow evening, he’ll make sure to stop by the makeshift bar that Brody runs and take some of his rotgut home.

He doesn’t want to stare at his walls any longer so he goes to the observation deck. It’s always peaceful to watch the colors streaming against Destiny’s shields and at this time of night, practically dawn back on Earth, it’s deserted.

Except for when it’s not.

Greer gives him a half-wave and points to where Lisa Park and Rush are asleep on a couch that faces the large windows. He motions for Everett to meet him where the refreshment stand is located, where there is always hot water and tea leaves available.

The bandage on Greer’s temple is not large, but Everett asks about it anyway, once he and Greer have settled on stools and are waiting for their tea to steep.

“It’s fine, sir. That doctor who switched with Volker, he rounded up everyone who’d been stunned or hurt by Dannic, gave everyone a check up. You’re probably on his list, too.”

Everett shrugged. “I’m fine. I’m surprised to see Rush here. I thought he’d sleep round the clock.”

Greer nods. “He needs to. Lisa couldn’t sleep, so we were walking around the ship; when we went past Rush’s room we heard him screaming. He was having a nightmare, flashback, something pretty bad, and he was kind of wild-eyed when he opened the door.”

“You talked him into coming here?”

“Nope. Lisa did. First we walked all over the damn ship for a good two hours. Finally tired them out enough that they were ready to take a break. That’s when we came here. Those two fell asleep pretty quickly and I was dozing off myself when I heard you coming down the hallway.”

“How’s she doing?”

“What happened with Dannic and Simeon shook her up pretty good. I don’t know how’ll things will go, but I will be there for her, sir.”

Everett reaches out and clasps Greer on the shoulder. “She couldn’t ask for a better friend to help her.”

“She’s more than a friend, sir. I think we got something good going on, and we’re not gonna let any bastard Lucian wreck it for us. She’s pretty adamant about that.”

Everett fishes out the handmade tea ball and takes a sip of his tea. It tastes vaguely medicinal and a little bit like mint. Probably something that’s supposed to be relaxing, since there’s a supply of it here. He’s stalling. He needs to know what happened with Simeon and Rush.

He clears his throat. “Greer, Rush said to ask you about what happened with Simeon.”

Greer looks surprised, casts a glance at the sleeping man. “He did? Huh. Well, it was pretty bad, from what I pieced together and what he was shouting about.”

“Shouting?”

.“Yeah. He. . . uh, well, he kind of lost it for a while, when we were retrieving Simeon’s body. Yelled a bunch of stuff putting himself down and that I shouldn’t be nice to him.”

“Being nice to him?”

“I put an arm around him, because – well, if you’d seen the look on his face when he realized I knew he’d given Simeon a blow job, you’d have done the same.”

“So Simeon did rape him.” Everett flashed back to Simeon pawing at Rush after Kiva had put him off limits. He sighed.

“Yes, sir. And while Simeon’s attention was on getting off, Rush stabbed him with a little screwdriver in the groin. From there what Lisa told TJ and Camile and me was accurate.”

“Poor son-of-a bitch,” Everett said, filled equally with pity and admiration. “But, damn, he’s good at keeping his head and finding workarounds for problems.”

“That’s our Doc. But he hates himself right now, he doesn’t give himself credit for coming up with solutions. And Lisa said that Simeon dosed himself up with something from a little box. She’s pretty sure it was something to give him staying power, so he could keep fucking them. Rush, he begged to kiss Simeon, and I think he got some of that drug in him. On purpose. But, he seems to think that because he got hard from the drug, it means he’s some kind of slut.”

Everett frowned. “Why would he want the drug?”

“Because if he didn’t get hard, Simeon was going to kill him. Bastard got what was coming to him.” Greer’s expression hardens.

“Ah,” Everett says, and they both fall silent, drink their tea slowly. When Park stirs and sits up and joins them, Everett tells them he’ll stay with Rush.

He settles on another couch after the couple leaves, their hands clasped, and watches a man he once left to die on a planet sleep. When Rush curls his body tighter, Everett covers him with his new – well, somewhat new – jacket and feels absurdly satisfied when Rush seems to settle deeper into slumber.

He thinks about his culpability in what happened to Rush, oh, not just that he raped him along with Simeon and the rest of the Lucians and David, but in all that went wrong for the crew after his decision to hold off on venting the air in the gate room. He knows it’s pointless to do this to himself. This isn’t one of Eli’s sci-fi movies, he can’t go back to that point in time and save himself from making the wrong choice. He has to move on, because while he might not be the best commander, had declined O’Neill’s offer to lead this mission because he knew he wasn’t up to it, he was here now and he is the best they have to lead these poor, castaway people.

He thinks about the conversation he had with Matthew, on the ice planet. He thinks about how a desire to not be in charge of all these lives translated into recklessness with his own life, as if his being killed would finally solve the problem of his not wanting to have this command.

It’s not fair to Matthew, or TJ, or James, to expect them to shoulder this burden. He has the experience, he has the training, and he has to just fucking get it done. Camile, maybe. But she’d let Rush have his way with the chair and look what had happened to Franklin because of it. Camile’s input is valuable, but she’s not right to be in command, either.

Rush murmurs in his sleep, and a panicked note starts to thread its way through the softly mumbled words. Everett moves silently to his side and drops down next to him, makes shushing sounds and rubs Rush’s back and shoulder.

It works, and the man subsides into sleep again. Everett sits down with his back against the side of the couch and thinks about Rush taking command. Once, maybe he could have, but not now. And anyway, Rush is too quick to give up on people, to make a sacrifice when other solutions haven’t been tried. He, on the other hand, will stall a decision that means someone’s life is going to be given for the greater good, to see if any other solution can save them without the cost of a life. Sometimes, he stalls too long.

Together, they could be a balanced command, and he wants that, wants Rush’s quick mind and quick hands working with him. He wonders if he’ll ever have it.

He’s tired himself, but he can’t sleep. There’s one major problem left to deal with and it was the reason he’d spent so long on Earth, while the IOA argued with itself over what exactly should be done with Colonel David Telford.

* * *

Eli and Chloe come in after the ship’s lighting starts to brighten into artificial morning. They’re carrying makeshift yoga mats, and they look surprised to see him sitting where he is, on the floor next to Rush. He gets up and motions them over to where they can speak quietly.

“Hi,” says Eli. “What’s up?”

Everett explains, and Chloe lays a hand on his arm. “We’ll make sure nobody disturbs Doctor Rush. Why don’t you go to bed, Colonel. Did you get any sleep at all last night?”

He shakes his head no. He can’t sleep yet, not until he talks with his brainwashed friend.

“Got some things to take care of first,” he says. “How’s your leg wound, Chloe?” He hasn’t had the chance to ask her about the gunshot wound she acquired during the Lucian’s take over of the ship till now. “You seem to be moving around okay.”

Chloe smiles, but it’s a little bewildered. “I am. It healed really fast. Really, really fast.” She shrugs, and he makes a mental note to check in with TJ about it. More than a decade with the stargate program has taught him to be wary of things that don’t make sense.

He leaves Rush in their hands, and wonders how the man will feel about waking up to find out he’s had multiple people keeping an eye on him while he recovers.

Actually, he’d love it if Rush was his usual annoying sarcastic and snide self about it.

He shifts mental gears when he comes to David’s room. James is on guard duty and he motions for her to cover him when he unlocks the door.

David is awake, prowling the room, looking like a caged jungle cat, and Everett knows he’s just as dangerous.

* * *

Waving his arm in an expansive gesture, David welcomes him in, and casts an amused look at James, who has her weapon aimed right at his heart.

“There’s no need for that, Lieutenant. Colonel Young and I are old friends, aren’t we, Everett? He’s perfectly safe with me. Even alone.” David shoots him a smirking grin. “You given any more thought to being alone with me? We could. . . do something entertaining, something fun.”

Everett cast him an unimpressed look, remembering how he’d tried to seduce Everett’s wife while under the influence of the Alliance’s mind control.

Or maybe that had just been David with his politer side stripped away. Maybe he’d wanted to see if he could take Emily away from him for a while now. They’d competed for women and even the odd man before, when they were both young and stupid with testosterone; it had been a friendly competition back then. The people they’d flirted with at bars, they were just passing flings, amused at their attempts to out charm the other one.

David was eyeing him, being flagrant about it. “Yeah, something entertaining is what you need, Something to give you a break from being in command. I know you don’t want to be in charge, Everett. All those lives depending on you? I’d take that problem off your hands.”

He laughs then, inviting Everett in on the joke of letting an admitted Lucian Alliance commander take over. ‘But I know you won’t step down on your own, and for some damn reason O’Neill won’t replace you. So, something amusing to take your mind off your responsibilities. Poker, maybe.” He stepped closer, and said in a loud whisper that he intended for James to overhear, the bastard, “Strip poker, Everett. What about it? Satisfy my curiosity about you, maybe let you scratch an itch, too?”

Probably this conversation has nothing to do with David’s supposed sexual interest in him, but is intended to throw him, fluster him.

Not a chance.

“Cut the horseshit, David. I’m not in the mood to play games with you.”

David’s gaze is assessing, and somehow real, honest, this time. He frowns. “You’re barely on your feet, Everett.” He sounds worried, and David has always taken a faintly big brotherish tone with him, laying a solid hand on his shoulder, earnestly tying to talk him into doing something that David thought would be good for him. Going out drinking. Taking leave. Not marrying Emily.

“That’s not your concern.’

“You’re wrong there. We’re friends, Everett. I care about you.”

David, poor brainwashed David, looks sincere, with no trace of the smirk he’d had when he’d been giving that blatant come on and all Everett sees is the man he’s known for a long time, who’s been in tight spots with him, who has to live with knowing what he did while he was Kiva’s puppet.

He’s still Kiva’s puppet. But he can choose not to be.

Everett lays it out for him then. What the IOA had been chasing its tail about while Everett was debriefed about the Lucian Alliance’s take over.

He’s got strict orders this time, no leeway to act to save Rush’s life, to save Destiny from being invaded. Colonel David Telford can choose to have his brainwashing dissolve away again by risking his life, or he can stay the way he is, guarded, restricted to his quarters for the most part.

David gets to choose.

Unsurprisingly, David chooses to not be suffocated again.

Everett leaves him in his quarters under guard.

* * *

The first order of business after recharging in the star and gating down to the planet, was the removal and incineration of the bodies. It was a grim business, sending them on kino sleds through the gate, arranging the bodies on the ramp so that when Destiny was dialed back, their atoms and souls would be consigned to the universe.

The idea of doing that on Destiny’s side had been repellant. It was cleaner this way. Ginn had asked to attend this quasi ceremony and she stood next to Eli, her face pale, their hands clasped, while Everett said a few words that Daniel Jackson had provided that the Alliance commonly used when burying their dead.

Rush doesn’t come, but Everett saw him watching the table being carried through the gate, standing high above the gate room where the double staircase met, hands gripping the railing tight. Everett catches his eye and nods, and he nods back, then disappears into the ship.

The planet, thank god, has enough Kind-of-Berries, Sort-of-Nuts, and other assorted vegetation that was edible and christened by Eli to restock their supplies and then some. Greer takes charge of a scouting party and finds herd animals and large lizard-types that are edible. Not wanting to use up their ammunition unnecessarily, Everett asked Corporal Baras, with his fascination with hunter-gather societies, to lend a hand and he directs one group to drive the animals over a forty foot cliff, while he shows another group how to camouflage themselves to hunt the long tailed animal that isn’t exactly a reptile, but is close enough. The lizard catching crew waits with clubs for their quarry to show up for the bait, a large, slow wormlike lifeform that normally are above the quasi-lizards’ tongues’ reach.

It would have been great to be able to use the shuttle, but they make do. Almost everyone has been pressed into service, either sorting things out in the now empty gateroom, or down on the planet.

Destiny has been generous to them, allowing over a week of time. Time to replenish their supplies, water and food. Time to bury their dead, to express their sorrow over their losses. Time to allow every crewmember to spend hours and hours on the planet, to feel sunshine on their faces and skin. TJ had insisted on that, once the initial reports indicated the planet was reasonably safe. Lack of Vitamin D, she says, is a health issue and one that exposure to sunlight can alleviate.

There are only two crew members who haven’t been to the planet. David will not be coming. He was just on Earth, there’s no health reason to include him and every reason to continue to make his incarceration boring. He can’t be trusted without going through whatever version of the Rite of M’al Sharran, they use, suffocate him, electrocute him, to the point of death and then pray he can be brought back with his mind his own again.

David hasn’t agreed, and the IOA won’t sanction a non-consensual attempt. There is nothing to learn from him regarding the Alliance that hasn’t already been given. So, David sits in his room. Alone.

Rush has not been to the planet. For the first several days Everett figures he’s still recovering since he hasn’t shown up in the control interface room and that’s fine, he’s supposed to not be working. He hasn’t shown up for meals, though, and when he queries Becker about it, Brody interrupts and asks for a word.

So, he knows now that Rush won’t step foot in the mess. Brody tells him he takes food to him twice a day, leaves it in Rush’s unlocked room, takes back the empty bowl or plate. Proof of life, since Brody hasn’t seen him either for the last two days. Turns out, nobody has. Not since they carried the table off the ship. He’s not staying in his quarters, or visiting the inhabited areas of the ship or slipping off to do clandestine work at stations or labs he’s used before. He’s gone to ground somewhere, is what Everett thinks. But where? According to the Science Team no code is being altered, there are no system changes being implemented.

He’s torn because he wants to do what’s right for the man, but what is the right thing to do? Leave him alone and let him lick his wounds in peace? Talking with Camile and TJ about it doesn’t help much. They say that Rush needs to feel in control. Okay, he can see that. The man had every choice taken from him. But, is letting him stew on his own really what he needs?
What about safety checks, counseling? They agree that he needs to be seen, be evaluated.

He’s not sure that Rush has a radio with him, but he calls him anyway, tells him to go to channel 2. Expresses his concern, well, it might have sounded like an order, when he thinks later about his phrasing. Rush has to report to the infirmary and TJ, at a minimum. In hind sight, telling Rush that if he didn’t show up within an hour, that search parties would start looking for him probably wasn’t the best way to handle things.

But Rush does come to the infirmary. He looks so tired, he’s obviously still not sleeping well. He agrees to the suggestions made by TJ and Camile, and TJ puts him on light duty, restricting his hours in the control interface room to half a day for the next two days, since he just shakes his head when they suggest he stay in the infirmary and drink the sedative TJ’s concocted. Everett wants him at least part of the time where other people can observe him, make sure he’s okay.

The expression on Rush’s face is puzzling, like he’s bemused by a private joke. Everett’s suspicions are inflamed, because keeping Rush out of the hub of the ship, he should have thrown the mother of all fits about it.

Has Kiva changed him that much? Where is he spending his time? When Everett asks him, he says the observation deck, walking in the halls, working at an engineering station, in hydroponics. But his eyes slide away from Everett’s steady gaze and he knows Rush is lying.

Everett suggests Rush join the teams on the planet for some short shifts, thinking that it would be good for him to get off the ship and breath fresh air. Rush agrees and Everett turns his attention to other matters. His daughter, David, more exchanges with the stones to Homeworld Command and a trip to see Emily.

Looking into Emily’s disillusioned eyes, he can feel his marriage slipping from his grasp; the tighter he tries to hold onto it, to Emily, tries to persuade her that this is just a rough patch and they will get through it, that he will come home to her and they will have the life that she wants together, the more Emily withdraws from him. There is a heavy weight in his gut that grows even more when she refuses to go to bed with him or kiss him. She’s relieved when he has to go with his escort back to Washington.

He told her about Carmen.

When he finds out that Rush hasn’t gated down to the planet yet or even helped in the gate room with sorting the planet’s bounty, he’s puzzled because Rush is not a shirker when it comes to anything that means their survival. He has, in fact, earned respect from the military for not taking numerous breaks like some of the civilians do when faced with hard physical work on missions to planets.

He checks with the rest of the science team. Since his meeting with Rush in the infirmary the man has spent maybe thirty minutes in the control observation room at a time before diffidently, quietly heading out the door. When Brody asks where he’s going, he tells them he’s going to the bathroom. It’s hours before he might show up again, or even the next day.

Maybe Rush is just sitting in some forsaken corridor of the ship and having his panic attacks in privacy, maybe he’s found some small hole of a closet and is hiding away. But it’s been days now since they emerged from their jump and Rush is not getting better, not with hiding away like this.

And maybe Everett’s feeling a load of guilt for his part in Rush’s trauma, and he’s not sure what to do about it.

The bottle of Brody’s rotgut he pours down his throat at night doesn’t have an opinion on that or what a fuck up he’s been, just helps numb him to the point where he doesn’t care for a while.

TJ’s face tightens when in the middle of the night the baby awakens and he stumbles through the door Brody fixed for him into the nursery and offers to hold Carmen and soothe her back to sleep after she’s nursed. She turns him down, and he knows it’s because she smells the alcohol on him, and that he’s failing already as a father.

He tells himself he won’t stop by the makeshift bar the next night.

But he does.

* * *

Neither Rush nor the Science Team has pinned down exactly how the air was vented from the Lucian’s quarters. As Rush explains it, without using the master code no one can get past the firewall that is protecting that information. Eli and Ginn and Park concur, Brody just shrugs, and Volker shoots Rush a look that Everett is going to classify as doubtful. When Rush realizes Volker is watching him, instead of shooting him a withering stare that would have intimidated Volker into looking away, it’s Rush who looks uneasy and wraps his arms around himself and lowers his gaze. When that happens, Volker blushes bright red.

Rush mutters something about going to the bathroom and leaves the room quietly.

Everett moves over to Volker, who is looking mortified and ashamed. “Walk with me,” he tells him and they slowly make their way down empty corridors.

Mildly, Everett asks, “You didn’t seem convinced that Rush is right about the firewall.”

Volker shakes his head. “No, he’s correct about that.”

“Then what was that look you gave him about?”

Volker sighs. “I was thinking that the old Rush would never have just given up on trying to figure something out. He’s different now, and while I don’t miss the way he used to be towards me, I really, really hate that he can’t even look at me now.”

“He seems okay with the rest of the Science Team,” Everett pointed out. “Something else going on with you and him?”

Volker blushes again. Everett waits him out as they walk past a power relay station and turn down another corridor, past unused laboratory spaces and conference type rooms.

“I can’t stop seeing him on the table,” Volker finally blurts out. “Now, I mean. I look at him and that’s the first thing that I think about, him naked and people, uh,” he glances at Everett and swallows, his face pinking up again, “doing things to him. Sexual things. He’s so damn smart but that’s not what comes to mind when I look at him anymore or he says something. I can’t seem to get past remembering him crying and so helpless and being like a sex toy for the Alliance. He’s one of the toughest son-of-a bitches I’ve ever met and to see him so broken down and them using his mouth and his. . . I can’t even say it, and I don’t watch porn, hell, I get uncomfortable with Playboy, and now I’ve got my very own porn movie in my head and I hate it. I hate it! I know I’m making him uncomfortable and it makes me feel like absolute shit when he flinches when I come close to him and I think he thinks I want to do those things to him. And I can’t tell him any of this crap, and I can’t even tell Brody, because I should be better than this. I get so embarrassed and I hate that I blush when I look at him and I don’t know how to stop it.”

The man is bright red now and he’s staring ahead, not looking at Everett. He damns Kiva again for the trauma she’d inflicted on the entire crew. “It’s not your fault, Dale,” he says. “That reaction is exactly what Kiva wanted from the crew. And I don’t know what to tell you to do to get over this, but it’s not your fault. It’s not his fault, either.”

“I’m going to go to a counselor,” Volker says. “I already decided that. But, I keep dithering about talking to him directly about it or just hoping that I’ll stop having this reaction. And it kills me when he looks down or hunches in on himself when I do something as innocuous as reaching for a water bottle that’s next to him.”

“What’s the worst that would happen if you did just tell him why you get so uncomfortable when you look at him?”

“I’d die of embarrassment? No, I mean, yeah, I probably would, but you’re right. I could maybe stop him worrying that I want to treat him the way the Alliance did. I guess I won’t actually die from blood rushing to my face.”

“All of us, we’ve all got to move on from what Kiva orchestrated. She wanted the crew to feel guilty, to feel involved, to be intimidated. Rush keeps telling me that he won’t let Kiva win. He’s fighting really hard to not let himself be less than he was because of the torture she inflicted.”

“Torture. Yeah, torture. Maybe I can reframe what I saw from something sexual to just torture. He was being tortured on the table. He was being hurt, and I knew that, but the sexual parts, it kind of-- and he came, he had orgasms, which was weird and, and confusing but, well, I’m going to practice thinking of what happened to him as torture.”

“Rape is a tactic of war,” Everett says, feeling disgust for the human race. “Kiva wasn’t the first to use it and she won’t be the last. He was drugged, Dale, into having orgasms. Ginn told us the Alliance put some kind of sex drug in the food they made him lick off their fingers. Even without something like that, a person’s body can be triggered into orgasms without their consent. He couldn’t help that part, either.”

“Oh. Drugged, God, the poor bastard. He must hate us so much for watching him.”

“I don’t think he does. I think he hates himself. He’s certainly come to terms with Ginn from what I’ve been told and what I see for myself.”

“Yeah. He’ll even talk to her sometimes. He can’t say two words to me, though.”

“Give it more time and have that talk with him. Go to counseling. We can’t change what happened to him, to us, but we can try to mitigate the effects as much as possible. For you, and the rest of the crew, for Rush. For us all.”

“Thanks for talking to me,” Volker offers. “I couldn’t talk about this to Brody or anybody on the team. But you, you had to-- well, I figured you might understand better.”

He claps Volker on the shoulder. “I’ve got to go. You gonna be okay.”

“Yeah. I’m just going to keep walking for a while and figure out what to say to Rush.” Volker motions towards a cross corridor and they part ways.

* * *

“Rush,” Everett says, stepping out of the doorway of the room next to Rush’s. “This is the last day on the planet, and TJ’s orders are for us both to go down and get some sun.” That’s not quite true. Certainly TJ had said it was her medical decision that Dr. Rush should go. Everett’s already been down to the planet several times, did his share of picking fruit and slaughtering the QL’s as the quasi-lizards have been named.

Rush doesn’t know that, though, since he’s become such a hermit. Everett feels a bit like a lion waiting at the watering hole for his prey to be forced to come near because of physical needs. He’s taken a load of paperwork with him to work on while he waits for Rush to come and get his morning rations.

“Colonel,” Rush says, his eyes wide with startlement, and he looks exhausted again, with dark circles under his eyes. “What? Oh, yes, the planet. I’m...”

“Too busy to come and replenish your Vitamin D levels? Doing what?”

Rush sighs, and capitulates. “I’ll be along shortly. I’ll need to change into BDUs.”

Shaking his head, Everett says, “You’ll have to go in those. All the spare uniforms are taken. There’s a lot of the crew working on the planet. So, now that you’ve eaten, let’s go.”

He gestures down the corridor and Rush shuts his door slowly. Every inch of his body is screaming his reluctance to come with Everett, and he doesn’t know if that’s because Rush doesn’t want to leave the ship or because he doesn’t want to walk alone with Everett. After the friendliness between them when he’d walked Rush to his quarters and in turn had been given baby care advice, it feels like a step back.

Maybe. . . maybe Carmen had been a buffer. Maybe Rush had felt more relaxed because Everett had been carrying his newborn child with him and obviously wasn’t going to attack him. He hopes that this trip to the planet and working alongside of Rush will help ease that tension again.

Camile said there would be steps forward along with sliding back, in any recovery from trauma. She counseled patience and communication and from the way she had been studying him, he was pretty sure she wasn’t just talking about Rush.

They gate down and it’s hot and sunny and the air smells like flowers. They’re directed by Corporal Barnes to where a new type of edible fruit has been found and given instructions on how to pick it and given homemade mesh sacks to fill. Once they’re done, they’re to radio for a kino sled to come by and take the fruit to the ship and be given new sacks to fill.

Rush isn’t paying much attention. Instead, he strips off his black jacket, and Barnes takes it from him and lays it next to the ramp.

“Yeah, you’re not going to need that,” she tells him, and Everett removes his own replacement jacket and lays it on top of Rush’s.

Rush rolls up his short sleeved T-shit to his shoulders and all he needs is a pack of cigarettes to tuck into the folds to give him a kid from the wrong side of the tracks look, with his hair growing out again and unruly and the stubble on his face. He squints up at this world’s sun and then rolls his shoulders, rubs at his temples and stifles a yawn.

He catches Everett looking at him and shrugs. “Best to get all the sun I can, as I’m sure Lieutenant Johanson would tell you.”

Everett nods, and then peels his black T-shirt entirely off and tosses it on top of his jacket. “Good point.” In fact, a lot of the crew have done the same thing, and some have suffered sunburn because of it. He, though, never burns, only tans. He still caries a rifle, though, in case they run into trouble from predators.

The patch of bushes they’re assigned to is about two miles away, and Barnes gives them directions. It’s a pleasant walk, following a track that reminds Everett of deer trails. Apparently, some of the wildlife on this planet also enjoy the white fruit that tastes like bananas.

He talks casually about the baby to Rush, more to keep disarming him than because he’s a new father and overflowing with love and amazement about his kid. It seems to work, as Rush seems to lose more of the tension in his shoulders and even makes a comment or two back to him.

They each work diligently at the bushes they’ve claimed, stripping the lower branches entirely before moving onto new ones. Several hours pass and they share a water bottle that Barnes had handed to Rush before they left the gate area. It’s quiet between them, and Everett is enjoying this. Being outside, hearing the noises of insects and the call of other animals, never too close, though. The feel of the sun on his back and shoulders, hearing the breeze rustle through leaves and watching the sway of the branches.

“The research on the effects of nature on the brain is fascinating,” Rush throws out. Everett glances at him. His head is slightly tipped back and his eyes are focused on the uppermost branches of the large bush in front of him. Sweat drips down from his forehead and he wipes his face with the hem of his T-shirt.

“Yeah?” Everett says, a little curious, and resolutely not looking at Rush’s belly that he’s just exposed.

“EEG readings show more Delta waves after being out in a peaceful nature situation. Tests show increase in creativity and problem solving, too.”

“But not if you’re being chased by a bear,” Everett says, tongue in cheek. He gets the reaction he was aiming for.

Rush rolls his eyes. “Were you not listening? I did say peaceful.”

He can’t suppress the small snort of amusement that escapes him. Rush narrows his eyes at him, but Everett distracts him by tossing him one of the fruit. Rush catches it, but before he can fling it back, Everett says, “Let’s take a break. I’m hungry, and you have to be, too.” He takes a bite out of the fruit in his hand and waves Rush over to where there’s shade from a larger plant that resembles a willow tree.

They eat several fruits and Rush wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Everett hands him the water bottle, and watches Rush swallow. He turns away for a moment, flashing back to Rush on the table, being forced to swallow so much water, or worse.

They return to the bushes and Everett takes a deep breath and tries to clear his mind from memories of Rush swallowing David’s spunk, bent double on the table. Grasping for anything else to think about, he remembers what Rush had said about nature.

“I agree with you, with what you said about being out in nature and its effects on a person. I saw it a lot, back when in my SGC days with my team. We spent a fair amount of time on planets walking from the gate to the towns, through woods or pastures. Or camping out. I saw how my team would work together better, come up with amazing ideas. And I’ve always loved to camp. I was a Boy Scout.”

“O’ course you were,” Rush says, with a hint of a smirk.

“And you weren’t one, I take it?”

“Hardly. You would have been told to steer clear of me and my lot.” Rush stretches to pick several of the fruit that are barely out of his reach.

“Why? Were you juvenile delinquents?” Everett finishes filling his sack and ties it off, picks up a new one.

“Aye, I suppose we were. Most of the lads I knew back then are dead or in jail, or doing things they ought to be in jail for.”

“But not you. How’d you end up going to Oxford, then, and getting a Ph.D?”

Rush shrugs. “My father. He took the work I’d been doing on my own and me to a mathematics professor in Glasgow and practically forced the man to take time to read them over. He gave me a load of tests, then, and told my Da that if he could keep me out of trouble then I had a future, could go to university.”

“How old were you?”

“Nine.” Rush frowns at the fruit on the higher branches and Everett moves next to him and by stretching manages to pull the branch down and let Rush pick it clean.

“So they put you in accelerated classes, gave you scholarships?”

Rush snorts. “No. But Professor Allan did let me sit in on his classes and his colleagues’ in the afternoons and evenings and gave me access to textbooks. That was the carrot, I suppose, and my Da was the stick.”

Everett raises his eyebrows. “What, did he take away privileges, ground you?”

Rush gives him an exasperated look. “I’m quite sure you’re describing your own punishments. No, if Da found out I’d been hanging out again with the older lads, or had skipped Professor Allan’s class, he’d knock me about.”

“You got spankings.” He moves to another branch that was out of Rush’s reach and pulls it down. They actually make a pretty good team, and the work is going very smoothly. Rush efficiently strips it.

“Beatings,” Rush says. “Not a few taps on the bum. He broke my arm once.”

“That’s child abuse.”

Rush frowns at him. “Enough of this. We should call for the kino sled soon, after we fill these last sacks.” He drops to the ground and sits cross-legged, and Everett joins him.

Everett lets the conversation drop. He can’t say he’s surprised to learn that Rush had a tough childhood. There had been something about the way he’d approached Everett after they’d gotten him back from the Nakai, that willingness to just let the fight on the planet and Everett’s abandonment of him be their little secret, that had twinged at Everett. Dysfunctional family secrets. He’d bet his paycheck that Rush hadn’t admitted to anyone in authority that his father was hurting him. He’s not sure now if Rush even understands that while his dad’s motives in wanting his son to get an education and a better life were admirable, beating him into compliance was wrong. He feels a rush of guilt for trying the same thing. He flashes on the defiant expression on Rush’s face when after beating him up and asking him if he’s going to submit to Everett’s authority and stop his manipulating, if they were done. But Rush tells him they’ll never be done. And then Everett had left him to die, furious and raging and sure that they were all better off without Rush on the ship. That feeling hadn’t lasted long; he hadn’t even made it out of the gate room before feeling like his guts had turned to stone with regret.

He never thought he’d see Rush again. He’d been filled with such conflicting feelings when he’d seen Rush on the Nakai ship, floating unconscious in that bizarre tank of water.

Yeah, he decided. He wanted him back. The crash of the glass, the water rushing out, washing Rush out on the deck, it had felt like he was washing a sin from his soul.

But not really. Nothing really would ever make up for what he’d done, callously leaving a man to die from thirst and starvation and exposure because he was difficult and treacherous and impossible to rein in.

Kiva had done it, though. Reined Rush in. But she’d had to break him first. Everett, he’d just gotten rid of him.

Things had gotten better, after the mutiny. Rush seemed to be honestly trying to work with Everett. But now. . . it’s all so fucked up.

Rush is looking at him, a little puzzled, He’s waiting on Everett to respond to him. Everett clears his throat and his mind. Focus on the mission, even if it’s just picking fruit and making sure the two of them don’t get eaten by some alien predator.

He says, watching Rush, “We’ll have to find a new bunch of these bushes. We’ve picked all that we can.”

“Not true, Colonel.” Rush casually points up to the upper branches, where there are several sack’s worth of fruit.

“Those are out of my reach and we can’t climb up there, those skinny little branches won’t hold us, not even you.”

Rush scowls at the implication that he’s smaller, lighter than Everett but it’s the truth.

“I expect Volker to make those kind of obvious statements, but I had higher expectations of you, Colonel,” Rush says, and he throws him a challenging look. “Excluding climbing the branches or making a ladder out of materials, because there is no suitable material on hand, how would you suggest that those fruit that are out of our reach be picked?”

“I bet you were a terror when you were teaching, weren’t you?” Everett grumbles, feeling a bit stung. “Okay, I can boost you up better than you could boost me up, but do you want to do that? It might, uh, bring stuff back up. Have you considered that? Because someone else could do what you’re suggesting.”

Rush looks both scared and fierce for a moment, then locks down his expression. “I won’t let Kiva stop me from doing one bloody thing. I’ll sit on your shoulders, Colonel. Kneel down.” Rush gets up from where they’ve been sitting together and grabs the bags, loops the drawstrings around his wrist.

Rush climbing up and sitting on his shoulders reminds Everett of high school days, of chicken fights in the pool, of outdoor concerts where his girlfriend would sit like this to see the band better.

He gets up slowly, feeling Rush’s thighs against his neck and holds onto Rush’s legs as he walks carefully to the bushes. Rush feels tense to him.

“You okay?”

“Yes, fine.”

“You want down, just say the word.”

“Not until I fill these sacks.” Rush starts picking, and Everett holds the man’s legs tightly, his own knees bent slightly, feet planted apart to better counterbalance when Rush stretches upwards or tilts to the side to reach the fruit.

One sack is nearly filled when Rush drops one of the fruit and Everett automatically catches it, unbalancing Rush for a second or two.

Then Everett looks closely at the white fruit whose skin is dotted with pin sized blue spots.

Blue spots. Ut-oh.

He tosses the one in his hand away, but before he can warn Rush the entire sackful of fruit dangling from his hand explodes.

Rush lets out a startled yelp and starts to lose his balance, and Everett doesn’t bother with trying to stabilize him; instead, he pulls Rush down and forward, catching him in his arms, cradling him for a long moment before setting him on his feet.

They are both covered in gunk. It’s cloying and in their hair and dripping from Rush’s eye lashes. It smells peculiar, but familiar and Everett identifies it as the scent of sex in the air, the odor of sperm.

Rush is breathing fast, and his eyes are panicked. He uses his T-shirt to wipe his eyes, but this stuff is sticking to their skin like glue. Rush’s movements became frantic as he tries and fails to wipe the stickiness from his face, his chest and arms.

“No,” he screams and he’s breathing too rapidly to say anything more and his eyes are wide and scared and dammit, he’s having a flashback, he must be.

Everett grasps his arms, pulls him forward. Their faces are very close now, but Rush’s eyes are shut. He’s shaking like he’s got malaria.

“You’re safe, you’re safe. I’ve got you. Prime numbers after ten thousand, start calculating, open your eyes and breath with me.”

Rush’s expression when he opens his eyes is so lost that it’s another stab of guilt in the gut for Everett. This is his fault, that his chief scientist is experiencing horror again. All his fault.

He encourages Rush to breathe with him, and Rush starts murmuring numbers. It’s over in a few minutes. Rush sighs and there is sweat running down his face, and he’s still trembling, a little.

“Thank you,” he says, quietly and humbly.

“Usually I give people two digit multiplication problems or to start prime numbers sequencing after one, but I figured for you we’d better jump ahead. The trick to stopping a panic attack is to make the brain do something logical. Like calculating numbers. Can’t be something you’ve memorized though, not counting by fives or doing the easy times tables.”

“You’ve done this before.” It’s not a question, but Rush is looking better. Calmer. He raises a hand to his face to try to scratch away the drying film, but Everett catches his hand.

“Stop. It’s gonna need soap and water to get it off. Lucky for you, I’ve got soap with me. We’ll go back to that creek we crossed to get here. There was a nice pool a little ways down, we can take a bath. And yeah, I’ve done this before, oh, maybe twenty times or so. With my team. It wasn’t always just pleasant hikes through alien woods.”

“You knew something was wrong with the fruit I was picking. You threw away the one I dropped.”

“Yeah, genius. I knew because Barnes warned us about them. She said, and I quote, ‘Don’t pick the ones with blue spots, they’re over ripe and rancid and if they’re in close contact with each other they’ll all explode.”

Rush looks stunned for a moment, then chagrined. “I didn’t hear her.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Sorry.”

“Forget it. It’s pretty obvious that you’re still exhausted. Lack of sleep means making mistakes. We’ll radio for the kino sled to come and do a pick up and then go get cleaned up.”

Rush smiles ruefully at him, and something in Everett’s chest tightens and then warms. He doesn’t want to think about what that means, though, as they wait until James swings by and they load up the sled. After she’s gone he points towards where the path is and picks up his weapon, takes point. Rush follows him without a word.

* * *

Chapter 14

There are ghosts on the ship. To a certain extent, they haunt everyone. Rush isn’t blind to that, he’s seen for the past weeks how the survivors on this ship have been effected by Kiva’s reign. The crew is off kilter, there is anger and anxiety in the voices he overhears. There is tension and speculation between people as the past weeks under Kiva’s reign are re-examined.

There are ugly rumors that Camile collaborated with Kiva. That she’d been groomed to become Kiva’s bedmate as well. Rush knows from Simeon that, yes, Camile had been Kiva’s prize, but that had hardly been Camile’s fault. It’s also not her fault that a lot of the crew look at her with suspicion now, military and civilian. Gloria has informed him of that; he’s hardly spoken two words to Camile Wray himself.

He looks over from the bridge command chair to see Gloria – the holographic body that Destiny’s AI has chosen as appropriate for communication with him – gazing at him with feigned concern.

“Nicholas, you need to sleep,” she says, and out of habit he’s nodding absentmindedly, having no intention of actually following his wife’s concerned advice.

“Nicholas,” she says again, disappointed admonishment strong in her feigned voice. Do his ears actually hear vowels and consonants or is the impression of speech something that the AI deposits directly within his brain?

“What?” he snaps, and if this really was his Gloria, the look of hurt on her face would have had him rising and taking her hands, apologizing and kissing her, for while he’s a thoughtless bastard he loves this woman and he’s hurt her too many times already.

This is the ship, though, and she’s bloody well been reading the crew’s thoughts. His included. He’s got some very mixed feelings about that, and no very clear idea of what he’s doing with Destiny’s avatar.

Or much of anything else, for that matter.

* * *

He slips into a dream where he and Gloria are walking through well ordered gardens on a planet Destiny has stopped at, and off to the sides he can see some of the crew picking fruit and nuts from trees and bushes, while his Science Team cuts and places in mesh sacks vegetables from the colorful plants in rows, never mind who these orchards and gardens belong to. They have to eat. Starvation is always just around the corner for them, and so they’ll take what they want. What they need.

Koz would approve, he knows.

He and Gloria walk on, hand in hand, and he pulls her into a kiss under a tree that very much reminds him of a Weeping Willow, with its long fronds hanging down to provide a curtain from the curious eyes of the crew. They’re always watching him. Wondering where he wanders off to from the control interface room. Telling them he’s off to the bathroom no longer appeases them, from the suspicious looks on Volker and Brody and Eli’s face. Park’s expression is fearful. It’s not safe, her eyes tell him, to be away by yourself in isolated parts of the ship. Bad things happen in places like that.

Gloria tastes of tea and sweetness, and he closes his eyes when the kiss ends and lets go of her arms. When he opens his eyes he knows she will be gone.

She’s just a ghost, her death still a bleeding open wound, one that he doesn’t want to stanch because he deserves that pain. When she needed him most, he wasn’t there.

He opens his eyes to find himself back on Destiny and a gauntlet waiting for him, Lucians are on one side of the corridor and Destiny’s crew on the other. They beckon him, holding out food, and call him Kresh’ta and whore. Dirty little slut. Their hands are outstretched, ready to snatch him to their sides, strip him of his clothes, touch his dick and arse and pull his hair, put their filthy tongues in his mouth, jam fingers up his hole. At the end of the gauntlet he can see it waiting for him.

The table.

Simeon holds up chains that attached to the legs of that hated surface. “I’ll fuck you first, Rush. And you know you’ll like it.”

He can feel it happening, his erection swelling at Simeon’s words and he flushes hard from shame. Then there are arms behind him, pulling him back into a broad chest. “It’s not your fault what happened. I won’t let them hurt you. You only need to be honest with me, Rush.”

He’s listening. Young whispers in his ear, “What are you up to, when you disappear for practically a day? Where are you going, because you’re not in your quarters and I know you won’t go to the mess.”

Shaking his head, he whispers back, “You said I could keep my secrets, Colonel. I’m not ready to share what I’ve found. I don’t have a clear understanding of how the systems work. You can’t expect me to turn it over to the likes of Volker. And I feel safe there. I can control the whole ship and nobody can get at me.”

“Excuses, Rush. And I’ll keep you safe, if you’ll let me.”

He wants to trust the Colonel. But he’s been hurt by him and so he pauses, uncertain and unable to make that leap of trust.

The Lucians and the crew grasp at their throats and make harsh choking sounds. They fall to the ground and their backs arch and they are dying, they are dying, they are--”

His eyes open and he shudders, feeling so cold with his stomach tied in knots. He fell asleep in the command chair again. It’s occurred quite frequently since the day the bodies of the Lucians were vaporized in the event horizon Destiny provided.

Not that he’d watched the disposal of the bodies happen himself.

Perhaps he should have joined the others on that planet and witnessed his rapists utter destruction; well, most of them. Three are still on the ship, Ginn, Telford and Young, but he’s forgiven two of them.

He’s absurdly grateful to Young for ordering the table to also be shattered down to atoms. He pictures it, the roar of the gate opening, the explosion of energy forming that intense wave moving out from the huge circle, destroying anything in its path before the wave subsides into the blue placid water-like ripples of the event horizon. The filthy thing gone, although he was told by Chloe that the crew had cleaned it in some quiet ritual under Young’s direction.

In his mind it will always be covered with tears and blood and sweat and piss and come. Testament to his degradation.

He’s glad the bloody thing is gone.

The ghosts, though, they’re still here. Koz, Kiva, Varro, the other Lucians who had worked with him, fondled him, fucked him.

He never knows when one of those apparitions will make him stiffen in fear, when he enters the shower room, in the shadows of a darkened corridor, when he’s about to fall asleep.

And Simeon’s ghost. He jolts awake with the feel of the man’s blood on his hands, his screwdriver held tight in his hands. He gets it out in his sleep from its hiding place in Young’s jacket cuff, and it’s both weapon and security object, like a child’s teddy bear.

He’s not the only one being haunted by that particular Lucian.

Simeon had sexually assaulted Park and also Amelia White. He had never been able to remember her name till now, the short, red-haired woman who was usually with her lover, the tall blond Valkyrie. There had been others, men and women, who he’d groped. Some of them meet for the counseling groups held twice a week now. The crew knows he, too, was raped by Simeon. When he’d been screaming out his rage to Greer in the storage room where Simeon’s body had been abandoned by Park and him, he’d been overheard by the men outside the door. They’d talked.

Eli tries awkwardly to speak to him about it, when they’re alone in the control interface room, Brody and Volker having gone to fix a fluctuating power relay to the shields, and Park is working with her plants in hydroponics. Ginn is on Earth, being questioned once again about the Alliance. Eli gets up from his station and walks over to him until he’s standing close enough to touch him. Rush checks himself to see if he feels panicked, but he doesn’t. It’s just Eli. He’s not going to hurt him or want to fuck him.

Eli’s expression is hesitant.

“What is it?” Rush says, but from the look on Eli’s face he’s quite sure he actually doesn’t want to know. No point in avoiding this little chat, though. Eli will just keep trying to talk to him about whatever this is. He’s quite sure it’s nothing to do with the ship.

“I, um, heard what happened to you and Park and if you ever want to talk or, I dunno, just hang out, play chess or like, work on a Millennium problem together for distraction or when you can’t sleep, then I’m your guy.”

He feels hot and then cold, and wraps his arms around himself before realizing how much he’s signaling with that sort of body language, and instead grips the console and stares at the tangle of conduit and wires, the nerve center of the control interface room that reaches from floor to ceiling that the team has nicknamed the Apple Core. Ridiculous name, Apple Core, and he focuses on that and tries to ignore how it makes him feel to know that Eli thinks he needs – something from him. Protection, distraction from himself, bollocks, he doesn’t know and doesn’t want to think about it.

“I’m fine, Eli,” he says.

“Sure you are,” he gets back. “That’s why you’re gone for hours and hours and it’s so obvious you’re not sleeping, dude.”

He tries to glare at Eli, but his efforts must fall a fair bit short, because Eli just looks sad and worried and a little lost.

“Look. You and me, we’ve had our problems, mostly because you lied to us, but you’re. . . I don’t know what you are but you’re important to me, so I’m going to keep looking out for you because you need people on your side. I mean, Frodo had Sam, and Gandalf, although he did send Frodo into danger and nearly got him killed, but, man, that was like for the greater good, which you would have approved of, sure, but the point is that without Sam, Frodo wouldn’t have made it. Well, to be truthful, because I bet you’ve never read the books or saw the movies, Frodo never really healed. He had to go with the elves to their lands to finally get peace.”

“So, what?” Rush mutters, getting to his feet. He needs to leave here and get away from Eli’s concerned eyes. He is not going to break down in front of him, he absolutely forbids himself to shed the tears he can feel building. “I should hope for the Ancients to ascend me?”

“No!” Eli looks aghast. “No, just, let us help you. Talk to us, be with us. It can’t be good for you to be so alone all the time.”

“I’m fine,” he mutters as he passes Eli, intent on getting out of the control interface room and taking refuge on the bridge.

Eli lays a hand on his arm, and he stops. “Just, think about it. Our whole team is worried about you.”

He swallows hard. Eli has been nothing but kind to him and tried to protect him from the Lucians. He remembers Eli carrying him through the halls to give him over to Young’s care, when he was falling unconscious from the pain and sleep medication he’d had to drink.

“Eli, I know, all right? And. . . thank you. For--” He can’t talk anymore, so he pushes Eli’s hand off of Young’s jacket and walks quickly out the door.

* * *

He’s not asked to come to the counseling groups anymore. Not since he’d bowed to what TJ and Camile and Young had called an intervention – ambush was certainly a more accurate term – and agreed to try it at least once and they in return gave their word to leave him alone about it. They’d promised he wouldn’t have to talk. He hadn’t said a word when he went to the room designated for counseling, some sort of conference place, he supposed, just stood by the door quietly as the counselor who had switched with Camile introduced herself and said some things about recovering from being sexually assaulted. Apparently, though, he was like a raven on a killing field to the others, a symbol of torture, and his mere presence inhibited the others from talking about their trauma. Perhaps they saw him on the table, being raped over and over as they all just sat or stood in the mess and watched. Yes, from the looks on their faces, they’d felt guilty and it had inhibited them from getting on with their recovery.

He’s certain they were relieved when he walked out. He doesn’t blame them.

* * *

He decides he’d best spend more time working where the rest of his lot can see him to dampen down their suspicions, and he’s quiet when he’s working in the control observation room. People forget he’s there and they talk. They talk a lot, and he’s like a gleaner in the fields, picking through the scraps of conversation for data on how the crew fares.

He can’t make himself ask outright.

They can’t know that he’s concerned for the people he brought to this ship. Chloe has been found after wandering off, apparently in some sort of an unaware state. The gunshot wound in her thigh has healed much faster than it should have done, puzzling Lieutenant Johanson.

He’s aware from the cryptic conversations between Brody and the other members of the science team that Young has been drinking Brody’s moonshine heavily at night. The few times he’s tracked down by Young when he’s spent too much time away from the others, the man looks haggard and his hair is becoming unruly. Rush honestly doesn’t care much for the spit and shine look of soldiers but Young had always been shaved, his hair cut quite short. Rush hadn’t even known the man actually had very curly hair till he’d started to let himself go. When he queries Destiny he learns that Young is ducking meetings with his junior officers, and he spends much too much time talking to that bastard Telford, attempting to persuade him into trying to end the brainwashing. Telford has a way of hitting below the belt, as Rush well knows from all their interactions at the SGC and Icarus and Destiny. He’s quite sure Telford is not helping with Young’s slide into this depression that has the science team so concerned.

Lieutenant Johanson has moved back to her old quarters, taking her wee babe with her. The news of that had spread like wildfire amongst the crew. Young’s expression the day after had been set in stone; Rush had observed him but hadn’t talked to him. Young has been kind to him since those three days on the table, protective even, but he’ll not chance being his scapegoat and have the anger that is simmering under that locked down expression rain down on himself. He remembers what it felt like to have Young’s fists pounding him, and there are old resentments and trouble between them. It would be too easy for something about Rush’s behavior or just for being the way he is to trigger that anger.

Coward he sneers at himself, Is that really why you avoid him at all cost? What happened on that planet picking fruit has nothing to do with it, does it?

He refuses to answer rhetorical questions with himself, that’s daft, and he shoves down the confused feelings he has about Everett Young.

He won’t think about how it had felt to sit on the man’s shoulders, to feel that sturdy body holding him securely, or the feel of Young’s bare skin under his hands as he’d scrambled atop him.

Or how it had felt to be falling, panicking, and then to feel strong arms cradling him like when Young had carried him out of the mess. You’re safe, You’re safe now, But no, he hadn’t been safe at all, not with Kiva alive, but that was what he’d felt at the time when he’d turned his face into Young’s shoulder and wept, and he did again. He looked into Young’s eyes, confused about what the fuck had just happened, but he felt protected. Until the flashback took him over.

He won’t admit that the sight of Young naked except for his boxers, smiling and wet from their dip in the small brook on the last planet, had twisted something in his gut. He’s always been able to put off eating, and sleeping, in order to get the job done and he bloody well can do the same for whatever nonsense his body is trying to get up to with this new fascination about Young.

Oh, that’s brilliant, he argues with himself. Fascination, is it? Admit it to yourself, man, and then move past it. You felt desire for Young.

No, no, well, possibly. Probably. All right, yes. But it was a one-off. It won’t happen again. Itcan’t.

Yes, he’s going to put it behind him, lock it up with all the other things he refuses to feel or think about.

Are you quite sure about that, Nicky, lad? his bloody, cheeky mind shoots back and he blows out his breath in vexation.

Cursing to himself he leaves the control interface room and ignores the looks from Volker and Park and Brody and stomps his way back to the bridge. He can’t deal with whatever he’s feeling for Colonel Bloody Young.

* * *

He leans forward in the command chair, and checks the systems displays that surround him, and knuckles his eyes, as if that would stop his exhaustion. He’s wandered away again from the control interface room with the excuse of needing the bathroom. He’d been there for three hours, three hours he could have been doing something useful with the bridge systems. He pretended he didn’t hear Volker’s snide remark about Rush needing to get his prostrate checked. Bloody Volker. It’s because of him and all the other crew that would just be exploring the bridge, indulging in pointless key smashing that he’s doing this. He’s protecting the ship from the crew, and the crew from the ship. When he does finally show them the bridge, though, and teaches them how to use the systems, he doubts very much he’ll get the thanks he deserves.

He wants to keep delving into Destiny’s unlocked data banks, and there had been so, so much hidden away behind firewalls before he’d entered the master code, but learning the ship’s systems has to be his priority.

Bloody, frustrating systems. He’s made some blunders and yes, it’s avery steep learning curve and there isn’t a single other crew member on board that could have done a tenth as well as he’s done, but he’s still feeling like beating his head on a console whenever he makes a mistake.

Mandy’s input would be helpful. Her work on Ancient hyperdrive engines was brilliant. Little Miss Brilliant. He misses their long talks about science and mathematics, her clever wit, her friendship.

The kisses they’d shared while she’d exchanged bodies with Camile had been. . . complicated. He’d had no idea that she had been attracted to him; he’d thought she just felt sorry for him and that was why in her kindness she’d spent time with him. He’d had to wrap his mind around the idea of moving towards being lovers, and he just couldn’t at the time. His entire being was still grieving for Gloria, thanks to the bloody ship’s engineering that intense dreamscape while he’d been in the chair searching for the master code. He’d hoped that memory might be sacrificed, so he wouldn’t ever have to relive his wife’s death but instead the ship had amplified it and he’d woken up feeling her loss so keenly.

Gloria, with her eyes and her mouth and the way her hands would move while playing the violin. The way she’d snuggle next to him in her sleep, always reaching for him when he came to bed late. The constant way she’d misplace her glasses, the long walks they took, the way he could talk to her about anything.

Anything except for her approaching death. He puts a fist to his mouth, as if to stop the words that would implore her to continue her treatments.

The sound of a violin begins to play softly, and the ship has drawn that from his mind, and he curses his ability to remember music in its entirety.

He leans forward in the command chair, torn between wanting to leave and wanting to never stop hearing Gloria play her favorite song. The emotions build and build in him and there’s no escape, not really, and he drops his head in his hands and weeps.

When his sobs finally dwindle down, he looks up and sees Gloria watching him. He wipes his face clear of tears, and wishes futilely for a tissue or a handkerchief.

“Why did you do that to me?” he asks, and Gloria smiles at him, looking so understanding and he misses her so much.

“You required it, darling,” she says simply. “Human tears cried from emotion contain stress hormones. You needed that release, Nicholas."

He hadn’t known that, about tears. So how did Destiny know it?

“You’ve been reading minds again. Who did you learn that from?”

“Dale Volker, when he was comforting Lisa Park.”

“Volker?” He and Lisa were very close, yes, he knew that. It was obvious that Volker had romantic feelings toward her, and someone should talk to him because Lisa saw him as a friend only. She was with Greer now, probably would stay with him, if he had to make a prediction.

“He has conflicting thoughts about you,” she offers, and he feels shame. Bloody Volker. He knows that the man always, always remembers Rush doing such degrading things when he looks at him.

He holds up his hand. “Can you do something useful instead poking around in the crews’ minds and tormenting me?”

She smiles at him, again, the smile she used to bestow upon him when she was amused that he was being an ass. “Perhaps. What did you have in mind?”

He hooks his hand over his shoulder, attempting to ease the ache that’s taken up residence, and says, “The countdown clock. We need to control it.” No more jumping back into FTL when they’ve still got people trapped on a planet or they are desperate to gather supplies or they need to do repairs.

“Actions have consequences, Nicholas.”

He pushes himself out of the command chair and moves until he’s near enough to touch her. He wants so badly to touch her. “Are you going to be any use to me or not on this?”

She wrinkles her nose, looks a little bit regretful. “Can’t help you.”

He steps back and says sharply, “Yes, then, fine. Could you send Dr. Franklin out to see me?”

“Tired of my company, darling?”

“He tends to be more useful when it comes to technical matters.”

There’s a sound behind him and he whirls, afraid, suddenly, that’s he’s been found out, that Young is there, angry, fists ready to teach him another lesson.

It’s Franklin, though. When he glances back at Gloria, she’s gone.

“It’s too much for one man,” Franklin says, and as usual his voice has a metallic overtone.

“What?”

“This ship was designed to be run by a crew. It’s too much for one man, even if that man is a genius.”

This is not the first time Franklin has scolded him on this point when he’s appeared. “I’m no a genius, as you bloody well know. Eli, yes. But I can’t let the rest o’ them in, not even Eli, because they’ll just trample through these systems like a herd of elephants. You know that, Franklin. So help me learn what I need to know so I can teach the rest o’ them.”

“You’re making mistakes because you’re exhausted. Dropping out of FTL when there’s no planet with a gate; reprogramming the long-range sensors but not restricting that change to the bridge consoles.”

Yes, well, Franklin’s not wrong. Especially about the long-range sensors. That had mystified the Science Team to no end and it would only make it worse if he changed it back.

“Yes, yes, I’m aware--”

He’s interrupted when Franklin says “Nick,” and he sighs. Franklin always was intent on sharing his opinions on the idiocy of others. Franklin gestures toward him. “The biggest mistake you’re making is lying to yourself. You’re not keeping the crew out because you’re afraid of the mistakes they’ll make; you’re keeping this to yourself because it’s the one place on the ship where you feel absolutely safe. No one is here or can find you and you don’t have to worry about being hurt.”

“Shut it, man,” Rush says, and God he’s tired. He’s not going to respond to Franklin’s rubbish attempt at therapy. “The countdown clock is the problem here, leave me out of your calculations. Now, these algorithms are extremely difficult to parse out.”

He spends several hours in intense conversation with Franklin, pulling up the programming that previously had been locked away from him. Locked away, but no longer. The master code has opened so many doors for him and there is no time, never enough time to learn all that he needs to know.

"Going back and checking the programming when the clock begins may prove useful,” Franklin says.

“Yes, I was thinking that myself.” Backwards engineering, from the beginning of Destiny’s flight. The data would be massive, and he needs to be able to see it spread out in front of him, he needs to feel chalk in his hand, white dust coating his fingers and the smell of it in the hallway he’d claimed for his own use as he carefully covers Destiny’s walls with one of her most closely guarded secrets.

He’s not been there, in that deserted corridor, since before he swapped with Telford on Earth and ended up Kiva’s prisoner.

He looks up from his musings to see that he is alone on the bridge. He stumbles to a seat at a console that faces the bridge’s windows and sinks down, too tired now to even walk to his quarters. He closes his eyes and falls asleep between two breaths.

* * *

He returns with Brody to the control interface room to check back in from the two of them finishing a repair job where he’d had to remove an access panel and slide in between the walls and the hull of the ship. They are both dirty, but instead of only filthy hands like Brody has, Rush is filthy all over. He goes to his station and settles in, checking the readings again. He tries to ignore the feel of the grease and the look of the smudges on his skin but it’s becoming intolerable.

He gets up abruptly and heads toward the door.

“Going to the bathroom again?” Eli asks and Rush shoots him an annoyed look and a nod before ducking out the door. Yes, well, he’d already used that excuse once today and hadn’t returned for six hours.

Coming out of the shower room, his hair still wet and sticking out in all directions from his badly done attempts to finger comb it, he sees a kino hovering and growls, “Eli!” at it.

“Oh, sorry,” Eli’s sheepish voice echos in the corridor. “But can you blame me? I thought you were fibbing to us. You weren’t that dirty. And anyway, are you taking, like, six hour showers twice a day now?”

“None of your business,” he snaps at the floating spy ball and takes it and throws it with a lot of force down the corridor.

He wants to go directly to the bridge, but he’s aroused the suspicions of the team for today. They are much less tolerant of his disappearances than they used to be. He decides he’ll go to hydroponics and help Lisa for a time before going to the bridge. It’s peaceful there, anyway, among the plants, and he believes Chloe is with her. Since she started having blackouts, Young ordered that she not be left alone. He’s worried about the lass.

* * *

His bloody mind must have decided that he deserved payback for all those hours he deprived it of sleep because now when he wants to sleep he fucking can’t. Sometimes it’s the nightmares that he falls straight into when he closes his eyes, REM stage ambushing him immediately, and he wakes up screaming and unable to make himself try again for hours and hours. Other times, he. Just. Can’t. Sleep.

He tosses and turns, unable to get comfortable, trying everything he can think of to lull himself into actually falling asleep, but his mind just keeps coming back to the powerpoint slide show of his torture and he obsessively analyzes what he remembers of his reactions to being fucked or the feel of a cock in his mouth, sucking and sucking, and he thinks maybe he sometimes lost himself in the repetitive motions, his entire world narrowing down to a basic instinct every infant has at birth.

”Cocksucker,” he hears Simeon say, or would say if he could. You’re a natural, Kresh’ta.”

He sits up in bed, throws off his blankets and stands up, resigned to another night of no sleep. It’s not to the point where he’ll need to ask Lieutenant Johanson for her green brew, or rather, that he allows one of the others who’ve made his lack of sleep their concern to drag him to the infirmary and her careful scrutiny.

He despises having to rely on medication, so he won’t take himself to the infirmary until he’s at the point of becoming psychotic from lack of REM, or he’s ordered to go.

Colonel Young had done just that, ordered him to accompany him to the infirmary two days ago, after apparently watching him attempt to work in the control interface room. He hadn’t even been aware that the Colonel had come into the room, and really, this was the pot calling the kettle black, because obviously Young hasn’t gotten any decent rest either for a while. The man looks exhausted every time Rush catches a glimpse of him.

Young hadn’t tried to be tactful with him, or couch his orders as a suggestion. He’d just pulled Rush off the stool he’d been sitting on, his hand clamped around Rush’s wrist, and said, “Christ, you’ve been staring into space with nobody home for the last fifteen minutes, Rush. What if we were attacked, you’d be useless the way you are now. A Nakai could have been doing a tap dance in front of you and you wouldn’t have noticed. Infirmary, now.”

There are other words hurled at the science team, but he only recalls a few of them. Call TJ or me if he gets like this again, and He’s off shift, and Pick up your damn feet, Rush.

He wants to talk to the man, tell him to bloody well let him go, to stop pulling him along, but the words are blocked from forming, maybe because he’s so tired, maybe because Young is angry.

He can’t track where they are going, and he stumbles over and over again, until Young growls something at him and then swings him up into his arms and tells him he’s a lotta work.

Perhaps he passed out then, because he comes to the next day in the infirmary.

Lieutenant Johanson informs him that he’s slept for seventeen hours, only leaving his bed once for the bathroom and then falling right back to sleep. And no, she tells him, she didn’t drug him with the sleep compound. All of that time spent asleep was purely his own exhaustion catching up to him. He doesn’t remember coming in here, or her. Just Young.

He still feels tired, but at least he can function again, so he dresses and leaves, wondering who exactly had stripped him of his outer clothing, taken off the trainers that had once belonged to Andrea Palmer.

He’s not quite at that point again, presently, as he works on the Bridge, but he’s very, very tired. He’s been here for the rest of the night after that latest nightmare awoke him. He’d vomited up his dinner, another charming side effect those horrible dreams have afflicted him with at times.

Gloria has been hovering over him for hours and he wishes she’d find something else to do with her time.

He slowly chews one of the few power bars left from Spencer’s hidden stash that he’d unearthed in unused quarters near to the Sergeant’s own room. Afterwards, he can’t even remember what it had tasted like.

“Nick. Nicholas Rush, you’re exhausted. Let someone else help you with this, darling. You’re making a mistake right now because you’re so tired.”

He stops the programming he’s doing, and scowls after scanning his work. Gloria is correct, unfortunately. He goes back and fixes the code, and then in a fit of petulance throws the stub of his pencil across the room.

“Nicholas,” Gloria says again, and he seethes.

“Stop saying my bloody name, Gloria.”

“You’re upset, darling. Try to calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down! You know why I can’t ask for a research assistant, not after what Andrew Kovel pulled. They’ll take my work, Gloria, and fix it so that I can’t even make a complaint about it without finding myself kicked out of the department. I won’t have my hard work stolen out from under me again. Not again, Gloria.”

“Nick,” Gloria says, and she looks worried and sad.

He’s a bastard. He should try harder to keep his frustration at departmental politics away from her. She’s not well, and he shouldn’t be worrying her.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I truly am. I promised myself I wouldn’t bring up Andrew Kovel anymore. Just, don’t worry about me, all right. I’ll handle those research stealing bastards in the department without getting myself fired.”

“Nicholas,” Gloria, his beautiful darling says, and there’s heartbreak in her tone.

“What is it?” He’s been so focused on her, only seeing her.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Don’t be daft, love. I really should go back to the university and finish my work.”

“Nicholas,” she says, and shimmers and disappears.

His heart starts pounding madly and he looks around for her, sure that his mind has just played a trick on him because she can’t just disappear like that, he must have closed his eyes and she’s moved behind him.

For a moment, he’s as lost as he’s ever been, until his bloody mind starts working properly again.

He’s on the bridge, of Destiny.

Gloria is dead. Has been dead for years.

It was the bloody AI he was talking to, not his wife. He’d. He’d. . . God. He’s losing his fucking mind.

He can’t stay here right now. He gathers up his notes and stalks off the bridge. He’ll work this latest problem out in his hallway.

* * *

The next few days are a constant roundabout of working in his math hall, the control interface room and the bridge. Park’s worried eyes, Eli’s exasperated comments, Volker’s intermittent eye contact and sarcastic asides to Brody that he probably doesn’t think Rush can hear, Brody’s shrugs and scrutiny, Ginn’s guilty looks, he’s fed up with all of it.

He’s slept once in the last 70 hours, for about six hours. It isn’t enough, but it was enough to let him keep at this. He’s so close to figuring out one of the essential elements to the clock.

He’s startled when he comes back to the control interface room from his hallway to see Colonel Young waiting there.

“Colonel,” he says and tries to step past him to go to a console and back to ship’s business.

“Where have you been?” Young asks, and it’s deceptively mild. The rest of the science team are watching him, and he rather feels like they’ve just collectively pinned him to a board for study.

Perhaps for dissection, too.

He shrugs and tries to move past Young. “Working,” he says, truthfully.

Young laughs, and it’s rueful as he shakes his head. “I don’t doubt that, Doctor Rush. But where have you been working and what are you working on? Because this bullshit has got to stop. You can’t keep disappearing like this. I’ve given you a lot of slack because I thought maybe you needed. . . Never mind. Time’s up.”

Rush is silent for a moment, and then he looks into Young’s eyes. Probably the man will assign one of the military personal to stay with him if he doesn’t give something up, and he’d rather not go back to having his own escort accompanying him everywhere. Like Koz had done for those first few day, and, God, he doesn’t want to think about Koz and his unique blend of sexual harassment and protectiveness.

Young’s expression changes abruptly from mildly annoyed to concerned and suddenly he’s right there, a hand on Rush’s shoulder. “You okay there, champ?” he says.

Rush is a little surprised to see that he’s shaking. He tells himself to stop it at once. He’s not successful.

Young pushes him onto a stool and thumbs the rest of the team out the door, telling them to wait outside.

“Nick,” he entreats him and his hands are rubbing up and down Rush’s arms. “Just tell me, okay? Get it out, get it over with. You’re not as subtle as you think you are, the entire ship knows you’ve been off on your own hiding.”

Young sounds tired, and Rush studies him for a moment, and gives in to the impulse to tell him. It’s not because it’s an order, Rush can talk himself out of following it. It’s, well, Young looks exhausted, and, really, he’d planned for this.

He sighs, and capitulates. The smile Young gives him as a reward makes something turn over in his chest, something he knows he should lock up again, but he doesn’t.

* * *

“Where are we going?” Eli says, as the entire science team troops along behind him and Young.

Rush doesn’t answer. Young says something about Eli holding his horses, and Rush smirks a little. He’d told Young but he doesn’t feel like explaining it all over again to the rest of the team. Besides, making them wait seems only fair, since he’d been forced to divulge a secret.

A secret, but not the secret, as he leads them to his math corridor. The team spirals away, examining different sections of his workspace. He sinks down against a wall and watches them examine the equations and problems laid out on the corridor walls. He isn’t surprised to find Young sliding downward so that they’re sitting side by side.

He’d told Young that he’d claimed the space ages ago, that he sometimes needed a quiet place by himself to work out problems.

“Is all that,” Young makes a wave that takes in all the chalk scrawls, “about Destiny?”

“Most of it. I did write out a few other things, Millennium Problems, mostly.”

“Why?”

Rush shrugs. “For fun. I am a mathematician, Colonel.”

“What else do you like to do for fun? Chess, right?” Young asks, and Rush swallows, feeling unsettled.

“I haven’t had much time for chess.”

“Maybe we should make time.” Young smiles tiredly, and Rush thinks to himself that if he knew how Rush was hiding the bridge, he wouldn’t want to play chess with him, he’d want to pummel him instead.

“Perhaps one day, Colonel.”

“Afraid I’ll kick your ass?”

Rush’s sense of competition comes roaring out of hiding, and he scowls at Young. “I highly doubt that, Colonel.”

“So, we’ve got a date, then.”

He scowls even harder. “Yes, all right, when we both have the time.”

Young smiles at him, smugly, and Rush looks away, feeling like he’s been played. Probably he has. The science team is milling together, pointing and comparing notes. It’s a wonder they haven’t come to bother him about it all.

He stands up abruptly and sways a little, a bit dizzy. “Is that all then, Colonel? I do have work to do.”

“Actually, I didn’t come to the control interface room to harass you. I’ve got something to discuss with everybody, and I’d rather do it there. And Nick, just tell somebody next time you want to disappear down here, okay?”

“Yes, yes.”

“And bring a radio.”

“Yes,” he snaps. ‘All right.”

“With working batteries.”

“Are you quite done, Colonel?” Rush says, feeling flustered. Annoyed. Maybe a bit amused, too.

“Yeah.” He smirks again at Rush and holds up his arm. Rush pulls him up, and Young asks the team to return to the control interface room.

* * *

Young sits down on a stool and runs a hand through his curly, unruly hair. The scientist have scattered back to consoles, checking on Destiny’s systems but Rush stands by the Apple Core, and waits. Whatever this is, Young is reluctant to do it, he can tell that much, at least.

Young clears his throat, and gathers the teams’ attention.

"Colonel Telford has agreed to the Rite of M'al Sharran. I want your help, both to document that this is being done as safely as possible, and to actually do it as safely as possible. Eli, I’d like you to rig up some kinos, one for in here, one in his room, and one for the hallway outside his room."

"Brody, last time we did this, you handled venting the air out of the room. I heard there were some protests at the time, but you kept your head and followed my orders. I’d like it to be your finger on the button this time, too, but I’m not going to order you to do this."

"Colonel?” Park says, in the quiet that’s fallen in the room. “He’s really agreed to be suffocated?”

“He doesn’t believe he’s brainwashed, of course. Probably he thinks that he can pretend to be cured, and we’ll give him free reign on the ship.”

“So,” Brody asks, his arms crossed over his chest, “How will we know that it does work? There isn’t gonna be any Lucian Alliance news to give up, to prove he’s back on our side.”

Young looks at Rush, and he says quietly, “The chair. Destiny can analyze his brain, tell if he’s still brainwashed or no.”

Volker looks like he’s been sucking lemons, but he grits his teeth to have his say. “You’d be risking his life twice over. Did he really agree to this, or has he gone nuts from being locked up for weeks and weeks.”

“At this point, I don’t care if agreeing to this means he’s gone round the bend or not. I know him. I know the real him, and he would not want to be kept in a locked box for the rest of his life. Sure, he thinks he can double-cross us, that’s his motivation, but I’m gonna run with it. But I want it done as safely as possible. No last minute mistakes. However, I’m not ordering anybody to do this. Riley can handle the consoles, and it doesn’t take a Ph.D to push a button. Greer will do it, if I need him to. So, are you guys in, or out?”

Brody glances at Rush, then at Eli and then turns to Young. “I’ll handle the venting. Just like last time. And Colonel, I don’t have a Ph.D. so I guess I do fit your criteria.”

Eli says, quietly. “I’ll set up documenting. Um, does Camile know about this? Cause she was pretty upset the last time, I heard.”

“We’ve talked. She’s having Colonel Telford sign release forms. She’ll want you to catch that on a kino, too. Why don’t you get with her later today about it,” Young says.

“When’s this happening?” Park asks, looking perturbed. “Because we should run systems checks on every system that’s going to be involved.”

“Tomorrow, after you guys give us the green light,” Young says. “TJ’s gonna be there, for the resuscitation.”

“What about getting a doctor in from Earth,” Volker says. “I don’t mind switching again.”

Young shakes his head. “We’re not involving Earth. They gave us the conditions for this to happen weeks ago. Colonel Telford has to agree. He’s agreed. I’m not giving the IOA or anybody else a chance to stop it for some other reason. We’ll tell them after it’s over. Doctor Rush?”

Caught with the murmured phrase he had intended to not be overheard, he starts a little.

“Aye, what is it? I’ll handle the chair, and Eli and Brody, and, and Mr. Volker can assist. You’ll not want to put him into it until he’s recovered, at any rate.”

“Thanks,” Young says, and adds, “What were you saying over there, under your breath?”

Rush shrugs. “Better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission.”

Young eyes him before turning to the rest of the team and thanking them for their help. He stops in front of Rush before he leaves, and says quietly, in a sardonic tone, “Better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission? Except in your case, you do neither.” He claps Rush on the upper arm, and tells him, a much firmer tone to his voice. “Get some sleep, Nick. You’re the best I have and I need you sharp tomorrow.”

“Pot, kettle,” Rush fires back. “Shall we meet at the infirmary later, to have a nice swig of Lieutenant Johanson’s green swill?”

“Tell you what, smart guy. I’m gonna check your quarters before I head to bed, and if you aren’t snoring away in there, yeah, we’ll go to the infirmary.”

Rush pushes his chin up. “Deal. Except, if I have to drink it, you do, too. You’re just as exhausted as I am, Colonel. Do you agree?”

He surprises a chuckle out of Young. “Okay, I agree,” Young says, and he claps Rush on the shoulder and then tousles his hair, shooting him a smile from the doorway when he leaves.

Rush smooths his hair back down while cautiously looking round the room to see if any of the team caught that. Ginn has, apparently, judging by her widened eyes, and he brings a finger to his lips. She nods, and he’s certain she’ll not tell Eli. The reverse would certainly not be true, he thinks, if Eli had seen the Colonel do that.

He hadn’t flinched away this time. He’d been shocked the first time the Colonel had done that, so long ago. But now, he hadn’t ducked away in reflex or felt panicked at all.

He’s not sure what that means, exactly, so he won’t think about it anymore. He’s got a program to look over and adapt before heading to his room, hopefully to sleep. He finds he doesn’t mind if the Colonel does look in on him.

* * *

He’s not asleep when the Colonel softly opens his door. It’s near midnight, he sees, as he glances at the phone on the bedside table. It isn’t his phone, that was blown to pieces when Icarus exploded. Young had tossed this one at him ages ago, in a futile attempt to have him join Camile and Young for morning meetings.

He’s tried, he honestly has tried to sleep. He’s so tired now he can hardly stand it.

Sighing, he gets up and slides his loose trousers over his boxers. He doesn’t bother with his shoes. He hopes that he can convince Lieutenant Johanson to let him take her sleeping potion back to his room, but he wouldn’t put money down on such a bet.

Lieutenant Johanson’s there when the two of them stumble into the infirmary, looking bleary-eyed herself, her baby in her arms. He’s not seen Miss Carmen for a week or two, and she’s turning into a bright eyed little miss.

“If I might have a word, sir,” she says to Young, and points Rush to a chair, rather a comfortable one. “Doc, will you hold Carmen for me?”

He sits down and makes a baby sized circle of his arms and occupies the next fifteen minutes with holding the baby and humming to her. He doesn’t want to know what Young and Lieutenant Johanson are discussing so intently, and really, he wishes they would have had this conversation without him in the room.

The baby is sweet, though, and smells milky and it’s unbelievably soothing to hold her warm little body against his own. She looks at him, her eyes blue, and he wonders if they will stay that way or if they’ll change to Young’s brown ones. Or perhaps green. Really, it depends on the recessive genes Young may have passed down to his daughter.

Gloria had had beautiful blue eyes. His eyes are dark, but maybe he carries some recessive blue eyes genes. He doesn’t actually know much about his family. It had just been him and his da, and Da hadn’t been keen on talking about his family or Nick’s mother’s. It would have been anybody’s guess what his own children’s eyes would have looked like.

He shifts the baby so she’s on his shoulder and softly starts singing an old, old song that had helped put many a wee one to sleep, rocking his body in time to the slow tune.

Carmen is asleep by the time he finishes the last verse, and her mother hands him a mug full of the green brew.

“I don’t suppose I can just take it with me,” he tries, in his best cooperative tone of voice, but Lieutenant Johanson shakes her head.

He makes a face but downs it quickly. She takes the empty mug from him first, and carries it to a sink, collecting Colonel Young’s from him along the way.

The Colonel stands in front of him, a look on his face like Rush is cupping a precious, delicate vase that his own hands would be far too clumsy to attempt to hold, and Rush rolls his eyes.

“Come on then, take your wee girl and give her a kiss goodnight. If I stay here much longer I’ll be asleep in this chair and I don’t fancy doing that or sleeping on one of those gurneys. They’re damn uncomfortable.”

He turns Carmen so she’s cradled in his arms and holds her up up towards Young. The man takes her and cuddles her close, and smiles down at his baby.

“What were you singing to her?” Lieutenant Johanson says, and she runs a gentle finger along Carmen’s cheek. Young seems in no hurry to give the baby to her. “That wasn’t English, was it a Scottish lullaby?”

“It was Ghaidhlig. Scott’s Gaelic. And it wasn’t a lullaby, although many a child’s been sung to sleep to that tune. A woman waits on the cliffs, looking out to sea for her lover, a boatman. A fisherman. Some say he’s found another, and laugh at her for waiting and she’s tormented by that thought, but she hopes he’ll be true to her and return with the wedding dress and ring he promised her.”

“Does he come back to her then?” It’s Young that asks, as he reluctantly turns his child over to her mother.

“The song doesn’t say.”

“Oh,” Lieutenant Johanson says, looking a little enthralled. “I love old songs like that. What do you think happened then?”

Flashes of memories rise up, of people he’d once known. “I think the sea is treacherous. And goodnight, Lieutenant Johanson.”

He pushes himself up from the chair and heads for the door.

“Wait up. I’ll walk you to your room.”

He waves Young off. “Not necessary, Colonel. I promise I’m going to bed, not to work.”

“I know that. I’m coming anyway.”

Rush sighs and waits impatiently by the door for Young to kiss his child goodnight and to come along.

They don’t speak as they walk down Destiny’s quiet corridors, the lights dimmed to represent night time on Earth.

Rush knows he’s in trouble when his vision starts to double, and he staggers. “Oh, tha’s brilliant,” he mutters, and puts a hand up against the wall to help him keep steady as he starts staggering along.

“What’s the matter?” Young says, and he finds his arm has been draped over Young’s shoulders.

“Tha problem is that witches brew has kicked in, and tha’s your fault for delaying me with your questions and for no trusting me to come back to ma room on my own. I’ll be sleeping in the hall, for I’m no anywhere close to ma bed.”

Young has the nerve to laugh at him. “I’m not feeling it yet, and I had just as much as you. You this much of a light weight when it comes to drinking, too?”

“Oh, shut it.” He meant that to be cutting, to put Young in his damn place, but instead it comes out in a slurred grumble.

“Okay, Nick, change of plans. We’re almost to my room, you can bunk there. And since this is my fault, I’ll let you have the bed.”

That sounds fair to Rush, so he tells Young to proceed. Well, in his head he did, what came out of his mouth was something that sounded vaguely in agreement.

He’s not very coherent by the time Young yanks the covers down and shoves Rush onto the far side of his bed. Young is swaying next to the bed, and Rush laughs, because it’s the funniest thing he’s seen in a long time. Young sits down abruptly and Rush feels bad for the poor sod, because Rush took his bed and really, how is Young going to fit on that couch? He makes an enormous effort and sits up enough to grab Young around the waist and pulls him down.

The room is dark, the bed is soft and comfortable, and Young makes a half-hearted attempt to sit up again, but Rush throws a leg and an arm over him. He hears Young mutter, “Okay, you crazy bastard, but you’d better remember this was your idea in the morning.”

He slides into sleep, lulled by the sound of Young’s soft, steady breathing.

* * *

Notes:

Credit to Neotoma for the remark about Frodo never healing.

There are many versions of Fear a Bhata, here are some of my favorites.
Silly Wizard
Capercaillie
Instrumental at Dougie MacLean's house

Chapter 15

Everett wakes up slowly, still mostly disoriented from a dream. It was something about David and Emily, seeing them together in the mirror in his old bedroom, and then watching as Emily faded away and then David blurred until he was looking at his own reflection.

Emily isn’t. . . She doesn’t want to sleep with him, she’d made that quite clear, but there’s this warm weight against him, cuddled close and where is he?

He blinks hard and rubs his cold hands over his face, and stares up at the ceiling. In the dim light he can see – okay. He’s on Destiny.

Who is sleeping with him?

It isn’t T.J. The hair and scent and shape aren’t. . . God damnit. He’s sleeping with Rush.

Right. He’d done the guy a favor and let him take ownership of Everett’s bed since it probably is his fault that Rush had gotten too groggy to make it back to his own room.

Maybe not all his fault. He’d had T.J.’s potion half a dozen times, and it had never been this strong before. Either it had been made to be more potent – a distinct possibility since T.J. had concocted it with Rush in mind – or maybe she’d used a stronger batch of plants without realizing the increased doseage? He’d pass along their reactions to her.

Rush is quiet against him, still sound asleep, and that’s good. No matter how many hours they’d been passed out on his bed, it couldn’t have been long enough for Rush. Everett has never seen a guy so consistently sleep deprived in his life, and that includes watching Jackson and Carter and McKay while they pulled another world saving solution out of their asses.

Everett shifts over, to give some space between them, but Rush wiggles closer to him. The room is cold, and they hadn’t managed to pull blankets over them when they’d conked out. No wonder Rush is like a heat seeking missile right now.

He should get up, move to the couch. Split the blankets between them. He really should.

Instead, he pulls off his boots and fishes around for the elusive blankets until he’s covered them both up. Rush is cold and he’s underweight and he’ll be warmer and more inclined to keep on sleeping if Everett adds in his own body heat.

Besides, this was Rush’s idea. He’d pulled Everett down and had pinned him with an arm and a leg. Not that Everett couldn’t have gotten free, but damn, the bed had felt good and he’d been tired. He wasn’t sure if he was looking forward to or dreading the face Rush was going to make when Everett reminded him that sleeping together was Rush’s idea. That, and it was going to be nice to not wake up with a hangover.

Lately it has been taking a lot of Brody’s swill to silence the accusing voices in his head about how much and how many times he’s been fucking up.

Rush makes a wounded sound; Everett pulls him tighter against him and rubs his back slowly and in the dim light watches as his expression smooths from tense to relaxed. Probably a nightmare. God knows Rush isn’t the only one having them. His damned memories of the Lucian’s take over and the dead bodies of his crew are only the latest to torment him. He still dreams of the fucked up missions and the deaths from his days of taking his team through the stargate.

He doesn’t want to dream about any of that, hell, he doesn’t want to wake Rush by shouting out in his sleep. He needs to think about something nice, something pleasant, something that will make him fall back asleep. Or else, he might as well get up, and he knows he needs more sleep. He feels better, sure, but he’s still dog tired.

The man sleeping next to him sighs out a soft, relaxed sound, and Everett feels a sense of contentment. It’s nice to know Rush is okay for the moment, after all the fucking crap that happened to him. He yawns, idly sifting through memories of other pleasant times that won’t trigger any regrets, avoiding thoughts of his wife or TJ. Maybe. . . Yeah, he’ll think back to when he and Rush had picked fruit together, working as a team for once without any problems. Rush is a hard worker, and Everett appreciates that. His quiet presence as they’d stripped the tall bushes of fruit had been relaxing. So much of Everett’s time on board the ship was peppered with persistent interruptions from everyone; being with Rush had been like stumbling into an oasis after being constantly tormented by thirst and continual sand blowing up into his face.

The time they’d spent at that little pool after the fruit Rush had picked exploded over the two of them had been nice, too. Well, it had been awkward when they’d arrived, when he’d courteously told Rush he could go first and Everett would wait. He just knew having that gunk on his skin was bothering Rush a lot. Rush shook his head and stared down at the ground for a long moment. Everett waited him out.

Finally, Rush said, very quietly and still not meeting his eyes, “Colonel, we should do it at the same time. Umm, bathing together, that is.”

Everett didn’t care. He’d leave his weapon within easy grabbing range on the edge of a rocky ledge, but being mostly naked together in this deep pool in the creek? Would that trigger Rush into a flashback or something?

“Hey, it’s fine by me, but you sure you’re okay with it?”

Rush shrugged. Everett waited until Rush eventually looked up at him from staring at the ground. “Colonel, I’m no sure, but I do know when I think about you with your gun and your clothes on, and me down there in the water trying to get clean, it reminds me of what Koz and I --” He broke off abruptly.

“Nick. I’m not going to oogle you or touch you or anything, I hope you know that.”

“Aye, I know you won’t do what he used to do, but . . .”

“I can stay back in the woods a bit, you won’t see me,” Everett offered, and tried to look as non-threatening as possible.

“That’s worse. I’ll still know you’re out there, but I won’t be able to see what you’re doing.” He clenched his fists and Everett could see the frustration and anger flare up, in his expression, in his body language. “Just get in the damn water, Colonel. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He knelt down and started unlacing the gym shoes that somebody had donated to him.

Everett walked over to the edge of the deep pool and checked it over. Maybe they’d be lucky this time and nothing would ambush them. Other people had been using this spot and they’d been fine. Fishing his precious bar of soap out of his pants pocket, he glanced at Rush who was undressed down to his boxers. Everett ditched his boots and quickly stripped his dirty trousers off and dropped them into the water. He would rather have pulled his own boxers off, but he didn’t want to spook Rush.

When they both were in the water he moved slowly closer until he could safely hand the small piece of soap over. The pool wasn’t very large, maybe fifteen feet wide, but the water was deep enough to come up high on his chest.

Their fingers touched, and Everett said, “Hey, you okay?” and made sure Rush had a good grip on the small, lilac scented bar before letting go.

Rush took a deep breath and started soaping up his chest. “Yes. I think so. Thank you.” He gave Everett a small, relieved smile and Everett grinned back at him.

“Good. Keep an eye out, would you? I’m gonna dunk myself.” The water was cool and refreshing as he immersed himself and he was not bitching about Destiny’s showers because they were a god-send, but this was wonderful.

He floated on his back after resurfacing, waiting for his turn with the soap. The sky was a shade more towards purple than Earth’s sky, but high thin white clouds still blew across it, reminding him of home and his boyhood and times spent staring up at the sky, wondering what it would be like to pilot a jet plane.

“I’ve never gotten the knack of doing that,” Rush says, sounding envious.

“Doing what?”

“Floating like that. I always sink like a bloody stone,” Rush says, and he’s definitely grumbling about it.

“Yeah, you’re made of bone and muscle, no fat on you at all. I used to teach swim lessons when I was a teenager. I could show you some tricks to get around that.” Everett kept his eyes focused on the sky, listening for any trouble approaching, but except for something like birds and insects making background sounds, it was still peaceful. The air smells wonderful, so fresh, and it makes a nice change from the canned air on Destiny. Not that he’s really complaining about Destiny’s air, not after experiencing the clogged filters when they’d first tumbled through the gate.

Rush sounds regretful. “I never learned to swim. Ocean was too cold, didn’t go to swimming pools.”

“You should learn. Everybody should know how. You never know when you’ll find yourself in a situation where swimming or at least floating might save your life. My cousin’s kid, her dad accidentally drove off the road into a deep creek, deeper than this one. It killed the dad, but the girl was able to swim free and lived. Just sayin’ you know.”

“Yes. Well. . .

“I can at least show you how to float, after we’re both done scrubbing that stuff off; I can still feel it sticking to me.”

Rush looked at him for a long moment, looking serious, looking like he was weighing everything Everett had ever said to him or done to him, before saying, “All right, yes.”

Smiling sleepily to himself in his now warm bed, with another human being close by filling a primal need for comfort, Everett felt himself falling back to sleep with memories of how Nick had successfully floated on his back and his belly – and yes, he had needed every trick Everett knew, from dropping his lower legs down while on his back and spreading his arms out wide and arching his back – and had sculled his way from one side of the pool to the other. The smile he’d given Everett as they’d pulled their wet clothes back on to go back to picking fruit had been. . . really kind of sweet.

* * *

Rush’s expression when he wakes up in Everett’s bed isn’t what he expects. Mostly he’d thought he’d see disgust, or maybe a wry acceptance of the circumstances. Instead, Rush looks almost shy, his cheeks pink as he sits up amidst the tangle of blankets.

“Hey, good morning,” Everett says. He’s quietly been catching up on reports and paperwork at his desk while Rush slept in.

Rush makes brief eye contact with a small smile he rubs off his face with one hand.

“You remember what happened last night?” Everett asks cautiously.

“Yes.”

Everett gets to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking apologetically at Rush. “We both slept in the bed. You remember that part? It was your idea.”

“Yes, Colonel. I said I remembered. It’s all right, but there’s no need to mention it to the rest of the crew.”

“Our little secret?”

“I would prefer that.”

“Sure. You look a lot better.”

Rush slides out of bed and runs his hands through his messy hair. He gives Everett an intense head to toes gaze. “I can say the same about you.” His face flushes suddenly, and he looks away. “Excuse me, please.”

Rush flees into the bathroom. Afterwards he stands in the doorway to the corridor, not talking, but he does nod at Everett before striding off. He isn’t upset or angry, at least, so Everett counts it a win. Also the fact that the man slept until almost lunch time is a win. He needs Rush sharp and on his game today, of all days, for David’s sake.

* * *

Finally, it’s time. He’s standing outside of David’s room, waiting for the science team to give him the go ahead. The radio crackles and he hears Brody’s steady voice.

“Colonel, we’re ready. Eli’s got all the kinos up and running.” The kino floating in the hall dips up and down in response to Brody’s words.

Everett turns to Camile, who has been waiting with him. “This isn’t going to be pretty. You sure you want to witness it?”

Camile nods, her expression, her brown eyes, are as serious as he’s ever seen on her face. “Absolutely. I’ve talked with David and gotten his consent on record and witnessed. I hope to God this works but if it doesn’t I’m making sure charges won’t be brought up against you by the IOA, Everett.”

He squeezes her thin shoulder, and thinks that he was an idiot to make an end run around her the last time he’d broken Kiva’s brainwashing of his friend. He’d wanted to keep her and Scott out of it, so the back blow if it went sour wouldn’t land on them. Instead, he’d alienated her and in his anger that Scott would question his orders – did not implicitly trust that he was doing the right thing – he’d come off sounding like a mentally deranged despot. He didn’t need a yes man as second in command. He needed someone who would see the pitfalls he couldn’t and help Everett avoid them. Scott was trying to be that person for him, and Everett had stepped on his efforts. Scott was young and lacked experience in the role and saw him as a father figure anyway, which wasn’t helping. What Everett had demanded of him – unswerving obedience without voicing concerns – had set the kid back in his attempt to be a good second in command.

Rush could have filled that role for him, if they’d trusted each other. He hadn’t been afraid of angering Everett, and their ways of seeing a situation could balance each other. Well, once maybe. It hadn’t escaped Everett’s notice that when one of his frequent black moods swamped him that Rush made himself even more scarce from Everett’s presence.

He seemed fine with Everett, even accepting casual friendly touches, when Everett was in a good mood. Hell, he’d wanted Everett to sleep with him, had let him touch him, hold him up in the water in that small pool when learning to float. But he was still scared of him if Everett was angry, even if he wasn’t angry at the man himself. Rush was still too damaged to step up to being his. . . what? His chief councilor maybe.

Camile was a great advocate for the crew, and he was pretty sure that her loyalties were firmly on the side of Destiny and the crew, especially the civilians. Now, she was. Somewhere in the past months, after the civilians had tried to take control, she’d stopped putting the IOA first, giving up her own political ambitions regarding that organization. He hadn’t trusted her back then, before her change of heart. He did now, and he wants her input, but she doesn’t have Rush’s brilliance or his ability to lay out a problem with all the options, especially the repugnant ones, the ones Everett instinctively would reject, but might have to implement.

Rush can’t do that for him now. But David could, once he was free of being brainwashed. He and Rush share that same ruthless pragmatic ability regarding solutions to problematic situations. With David comes a whole new set of problems, though. David had made no secret of his feelings that he’d been shortchanged out of control of the expedition. He wasn’t above maneuvering Everett out of his command, and hell, as Everett had told TJ and Scott, he probably was right about Everett’s abilities as Destiny’s commander. But David was too authoritarian for a hybrid crew of civilians and soldiers, and a little too ruthless to have the final word on decisions. Still, he’d make a good foil for Everett. And they were old friends, and David cared about him. Everett would have said he’d cared about him as a good friend, and only as a friend, but now he wondered if David’s ridiculous propositions while brainwashed had held a grain of truth.

David had never said or tried anything in the years they’d been friends to indicate he wanted a sexual relationship. Still. . . But no. David just had an instinct for going for the soft underbelly of an enemy. Saying he’d like to fuck Everett had just been his way of knocking him off balance.

“Colonel?” Brody’s voice interrupts his internal dialog and he shifts his hand from Camile’s shoulder and thumbs his radio to respond.

“Yeah, Brody. Give me a sec.” He motions to the guards to cover him and asks Brody to unlock the door. He steps inside and David is standing there in the middle of the room, frozen, not in fear, but like a predator pauses before making a killing leap.

“David,” he says, and walks close enough to extend a hand.

Giving him a sharp edged smile, David gives him a firm handshake. “Everett,” he responds, clipped and decisive.

“You ready to do this thing?” Everett asks, looking up at him, and he’s stalling but David could be dead in the next few minutes and he knows this is their only real option, but God, he’s not looking forward to watching his friend suffocate. It had been bad enough doing it when David had been Rush’s body.

Had he ever talked to Rush about what had happened to him in David’s body? When his own smaller body had stilled, not breathing, and Everett had pushed down hard on his chest over and over until David had woken back up and grabbed him, to warn him of the Lucian Alliance plan to board Destiny and take control?

If he had, he doesn’t remember it. He makes a note to follow up with Rush about it, because he needs to know if his actions had hurt Rush. It would be another tally mark on the mental list he was keeping of how his decisions had harmed the man. He should have disrupted the stones and had Rush returned to where he belonged, on Destiny. And if he had, he still would have known what the Alliance was about to do, since Rush had been taken to the very site where the Alliance planned to power a gate the same way that Icarus had powered its gate.

David was trained in subterfuge. He would have convinced Kiva that he was still on her side. And he had nothing new to share with her, so security wouldn’t have been compromised.

He’d have been faced with the same dilemma when Kiva sent her people through the gate, though. This time it would have been David in his own tall, strong body that stumbled through the gate, not Rush in David’s body. Would he have sacrificed David then or made the same call to try to get the Lucians to surrender without suffocating them?

Realizing that their handshake has gone on a little too long, Everett pulls his hand back and David sighs, then puts a friendly hand on his shoulder and gives him a little shake.

“Stop stalling, Everett. You always did agonize over the tough calls, but you used to do it afterwards, not beforehand. Now get out of here, and let’s get this done.” He gives Everett a sardonic grin. “See you on the flip side,” and drops his arm down and shifts into parade rest stance.

Everett wants to make some smart ass, cool comment back, matching David’s own bravery, but he can’t think of a thing. Instead, he nods his head, turns deliberately around with his back to David in a show of trust, and walks out of the room.

“Brody. Lock the room down.” When Brody tells him it’s done, he gives the order to vent the air out of the room, making sure his voice doesn’t sound rough or strained.

He watches through the window as David suffocates, falls to the floor and lies gasping like a fish out of water. He times David’s dying with his watch, and it is with dread that he gives the order to replace the air and open the door.

That dread is nothing to what he feels when Brody’s deadpan voice tells him that Destiny is not complying. There is no air whooshing in through the vents, and the door remains locked. Helpless, he works at the door handle, and sends an airman scrambling for one of the Lucian’s lock breakers from the armory, cursing himself for not already having one at hand.

David is going to die, and it’s all his fault.

* * *

Chapter 16

“Oh my God!” Eyes fixed on his kino monitor, Eli says urgently to the rest of the science team, “Telford’s not breathing and they can’t get the door open!” A part of Rush notes how Eli announces it, no panic in his voice. The boy has seen too much for that these days.

“Go,” Rush snaps. “Brody, you too. See if you can force the door open. Park, Ginn, Volker, you work on the door from here, I’ll handle the oxygen.” His fingers fly over the console, and he’s hacking into Destiny’s code, searching for some anomaly that’s causing the venting system to freeze up like this. Fruitlessly, he wishes he was on the bridge, not here in the control interface room, but he can’t leave without raising a lot of questions. Besides, there’s no reason he can’t fix this right here.

Eli’s fingers dance on his console and a large holographic screen appears in the air. As Brody grabs a tool bag and he and Eli run out of the control interface room, he hears Young order the guard at the armory to run a Lucian door breaker to the airman he’s sent to intercept it and Camile yelling that she’ll meet the airman on his way back and finish running the door locker back to Young.

Camile is a fast runner, as fast as he is, he thinks, as he scans the code for the venting system. He’s glad she’s helping. Doing a relay should shorten the time needed to get the tool to the door.

His eyes scan rapidly down and he is not seeing a reason for blocking the air to the room where Telford is currently dying.

A minute passes.

Two minutes and from their urgent comments Park and Ginn and Volker are as puzzled as he is, for there is no damn reason why these systems are not working. The door should open, oxygen should be pouring through the vents. Young should be in that room, performing CPR on a man who is on the brink of permanent death.

Three minutes and Brody and Eli have pried the door control panel open, and seconds later cursing from Brody fills the air. Rush looks up at the screen hanging in the air and his eyes widen. A blue energy field has enveloped the controls. Destiny is actively impeding their attempts to save Telford.

Camile flies into the view, handing over the lock breaker to Young, bending over, her hands on her knees, her feet bare, panting for breath. Young fits the Lucian contraption to the door and the force field suddenly envelopes the entire door, and Young is pushed backwards. He charges at the door and predictably, due to Newton’s Third Law, which the Colonel must have not have taken into account, he’s thrown back into the corridor a fair distance away. Idiot. But Rush doesn’t blame him, that’s his friend dying in there.

His eyes widen again when Gloria appears next to him.

“Hello darling,” she says.

“Is this your doing, then?” he demands, with a wave of his hand towards the frantic scene being played out on the screen.

“What?” Ginn asks, sounding bewildered.

“I’m no talking to you, lass," he snaps. He needs to speak to the AI, but Ginn is watching him closely. Probably thinks he’s a tad psychotic. He orders, ”The three of you go down to the nearest engineering station and see if you can stop all of this from there.”

Ginn and Park and Volker look at him like he’s gone round the bend, and yes, he can see why, because without setting up the station to be the primary control for the ship, as he had done during the mutiny, the control interface room would supersede it. This is a meaningless task and they know it, but he needs them out of the room.

“Go!” he orders. “Now!”

Park frowns but complies, and Volker mutters under his breath but also leaves. Ginn stays at her station and shoots him another concerned look and he glares at her. She drops her gaze and leaves her console. He waits until she’s running toward the door before turning his glare on Gloria.

“What the devil are you playing at? Are you trying to kill the man?” he demands of Gloria, of Destiny. He’s aware of the difference between his wife and the ship, at least for today he is.

“Do you want him to live, Nicholas?” she asks calmly.

He stares at her, taken aback. “Are you making this about me?! Is this some kind of bloody test?”

“Yes. If you want him to live, then inputting the master code will override the settings that are locked down. Or you could go to the bridge and unlock them. It’s your choice, Nicholas. The man has hurt you. If he dies, no one knows that you have learned the master code. So, what will you do?”

What will he do, what should he do? He has no love for Telford, the man has been a thorn in his side for quite a while, after that falling out they’d had even before Rush had gone to Icarus. He knows for a bloody fact that the man had tried to block his appointment to that post, citing that Rush’s personality would cause dissension and dissatisfaction within the Icarus project. At least he hadn’t been able to say that Rush didn’t have the mathematical ability to solve the problem of the ninth chevron, although he’d been very critical when the final solution had evaded Rush.

Telford has questioned his motives ever since they’d come to Icarus, trying to get him in trouble and removed from the project.

Telford raped him. He’d raped him and he’d done it more than once, just to prove to Kiva his loyalty. Or maybe he raped Rush because he wanted to finally have some power over him, to see him submit. He’d made Rush come, and that had not been necessary, not at all, but he’d done it, he and Young had fucked him at the same time and between Young’s gentle thrusting against his prostrate and Telford’s god damned hands skillfully jerking him off, he’d come, he’d put on a show, a shameful show for Kiva and her thugs and for his crew. The crew had seen him respond like that and he’d wanted to die. He didn’t remember much after that, just feeling Telford’s hard dick in his mouth, not for a long while. When he’d come back to himself, Telford and Young had been replaced by other members of the Alliance. He’d not come for them.

There’s no time to run to the bridge, not before Telford is beyond being saved. But if he puts in the master code here, he might be found out. Young would be angry with him, the science team, too.

But Telford would be alive.

He’d killed all those other people. That bastard Simeon. Lucian Alliance members and Dr. Boone, although Dr. Boone’s death had been an accident, but he’d killed them. He’d rationalized all those deaths as necessary, so that the ship could be taken back by the crew with the highest chance of success without harm or death to them. And to stop Simeon from killing him and hurting Park.

He’d hated doing what he’d done, but he’d done it for the greater good. Allowing Telford to die would not serve the greater good, just his own twisted revenge.

He looks at Gloria, his Gloria, and tears stream down his cheeks. He wants to be the kind of man that his Gloria thought he’d been, a man of honor. His word was good, if he gave it. He’s hiding secrets, yes, but he’s not a murderer. Except he was, but he won’t be one today. He despises Telford for how he’s treated him, for how he’s continually trying to oust Young, for the bloody stupid, foolhardy way he’d risked the lives of everyone on this ship with his harebrained scheme to dial home while within a star.

But he won’t kill him. He jabs at the control panel and once the master code is inputted, he again orders the ship to vent oxygen into Telford’s room, and unlocks the door. On the holographic screen he watches as the forcefield dies, and doors slide open and Young and TJ rush into the room, drop down by Telford’s side and while Young does CPR on the man’s chest, TJ places a mask over his mouth and starts forcing oxygen into his lungs by squeezing the bag attached to it.

He doesn’t know if the man will live or die, or if he’ll be brain damaged now, maybe critically, unable to walk or talk or even control his bodily functions.

He turns to Gloria. “Why?” he says aloud. “Why did you test me like that?”

Gloria gives him a one shouldered shrug, and a look of speculation crosses her face. “I needed data, darling.”

“You almost caused a man to die. If you need any more bloody data for whatever algorithm you’re running, find a way to do it without real life consequences.”

She looks at him gravely, nods, and then she’s gone.

He wipes the tears from his face, and orders himself to stop producing any more. Quickly, he does his best to bury the data on his console so that it won’t be so evident that he’d used the master code. What he’s doing won’t stop anyone from finding it if they even do a cursory search of the records, but at least it won’t be there glaring out, “Hey, look at me.”

He watches on the screen as Brody and Eli stand in the entrance way of Telford’s room, as Young pumps frantically on the man’s chest. Ginn steps back into the control interface room hesitantly, and he’s aware of her eyes on him.

On the screen Telford moves feebly, and Young stops CPR. TJ slips a small device on Telford’s finger, and looks at the findings, then drops the mask on the floor and checks him with a stethoscope.

He’ll be all right then, hopefully. Rush closes his eyes and puts his head in his hands as he leans heavily on the console. He’s saved the bastard, not that any of his lot will ever know it.

Ginn gives him an odd look. She approaches him cautiously, and he doesn’t know if it’s because she’s afraid he’ll bark at her or because she’s wondering if he’s in his right mind.

Since the girl had been regularly choked by that bastard Dannic and managed to keep quite on point with her work, he sincerely doubts that she’s afraid of him.

“Doc? Are you all right?” Her eyes are wary, worried.

“Yes, fine.” He busies himself with starting diagnostics running, so he can report truthfully to Young that he’d done so, although he knows perfectly well what happened. It’s not like he can explain what Destiny had done. He’s fair sure the diagnostic will show the systems for the door and oxygen just locked up without any reason, and that as inexplicably as the problem occurred, it was resolved.

Ginn lays a careful hand on his arm. “I didn’t go to the engineering station. I heard everything you said. Who were you talking to?”

Damn. He looks away, scrubbing a hand through his hair, trying to recall what exactly he’d said aloud. “No one, lass. Just fussing at the ship.”

“It didn’t sound like fussing. It sounded, well, like a heated conversation, even if I only heard you. You said it was a test. You said ‘You almost caused a man to die.’ You were upset, I could hear that in your voice.” She turns so she can peer at his eyes. “You’ve been crying.”

She’s much too perceptive. He’s starting to feel trapped, but he tries to misdirect her. If he storms out right now she’ll be more convinced he’s hiding something. He laughs a little, and wants to wince when he hears himself, because he just sounds tortured instead of amused. “Leave it alone, Ginn. I was just blathering out loud. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’ve known you for a while, Doc. You don’t blather. Eli does; Doctor Volker does sometimes, but you don’t. If you tell me, I’ll keep it to myself.” Ginn smiles encouragingly at him. Christ, no wonder the lass has Eli wrapped round her little finger.

He can’t do that, he can’t trust her with this. He shakes his head, still avoiding looking at her. “I was just frustrated and vented a wee bit. It was nothing.”

She sighs, and moves closer to him. “To survive living with the Lucian Alliance, I had to learn to read people. My life depended on it.” Her voice drops down to a whisper. “I know when I’m being lied to. But I can see why you wouldn’t trust me. I did terrible things to you. I let other people do terrible things to you. And I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” he says, his voice suddenly thick. “I know. Ginn, I was just talking at the ship.”

It’s a partial truth, but it’s the only one he can give her.

There’s a flurry of commotion on the holographic screen that drags their attention away from each other. Eli is narrating what’s happening. A kino sled has been brought into the room. Telford has regained consciousness but he appears confused and his speech is slurred.

TJ asks him to smile, to try to move his arms. He can’t do it completely.

Young is shouting, of course he is. The man demands answers when he’s afraid, when he doesn’t know what’s happening. As if that ever helps; he needs to be quiet and let Lieutenant Johanson get on with her work.

Rush owes Lieutenant Johanson a great deal.

Abruptly, Rush slides off his stool. “I’m going down there. Someone needs to distract the Colonel so he’ll stop bothering our medic. I’m running diagnostics, take over for me.”

He runs, practically bowling over Park and Volker as they come round a corner on their way back to the control interface room. He’s fast, he’s always been fast, and even as he skids to a stop by Telford’s door, panting hard, and orders Eli and Brody to return to the control interface room and to take the blasted kinos with them, he’s afraid of the Colonel’s anger.

He’s afraid, but that’s neither here nor there. Young is already on the brink of losing control of his command, and he’ll not have that, not if he can help the man retain his sanity. Young is better for Destiny than anyone Homeworld Command would replace him with, certainly better than Telford, if he lives and is fit for duty.

Camile grabs his arm. “I’m going with TJ. David may have suffered a stroke, we just don’t know yet. Can you-” she jerks her head toward where Colonel Young is hovering over TJ, who is trying to take Telford's pulse as he lies on the kino sled.

“Yes, go.” and he steels himself and moves toward Colonel Young.

* * *

“Answer me, TJ!” Young roars. “What’s wrong with him?!”

He doesn’t want to do this, not one whit, but someone needs to take the Colonel in hand so Lieutenant Johanson can work without his distracting her. He gets in front of the Colonel, and he’s much too close to him, his own panic at being so near an angry man trying to take over, but he’s not going to let that happen. He owes Lieutenant Johanson, for her lying to Kiva on his behalf, for the merciful care she gave him when he was a sobbing mess in the infirmary.

“Colonel. Colonel Young!” Rush grabs Young by his biceps and pushes him backwards with all of his strength. Young wasn’t expecting that and he stumbles as Rush redirects him out of the way until they are practically in the corner of the room. The Colonel grabs hold of Rush’s arms in a mirror pose to the way Rush’s hands have closed around Young’s upper arms. The Colonel has been startled temporarily into silence for a few seconds but he opens his mouth to no doubt start bellowing again.

“Shut yer gob!” Rush says forcefully, in a loud whisper. “You’re no helping the situation by yelling at her. She’ll tell you when she can, stop distracting her, man! You’ve got your bloody radio with you, I know.”

Young narrows his eyes at Rush and pushes back. Rush braces himself and they start a silent struggle, force meeting force, and if the Colonel uses all of his strength, or actually attacks him, physics and experience predicts the outcome. Rush will be tossed aside, and Young will return to his hovering and shouting.

Without really thinking it through, he darts one hand up to the Colonel’s neck, letting his arm crook around it, and lifts his feet. The Colonel is startled to suddenly be supporting Rush’s weight and he draws him up against his body rather instinctively.

It is a strange parody of a hug, and Rush has both of his arms around the man’s neck and he is plastered to his chest; Young’s arms move down to Rush’s waist and he’s burying his head into the side of Rush’s neck. Rush lets him, lets the man hold him like this, lifted off the ground. Lets the man channel his fear and anger into this quieter way of using his muscles to siphon off the adrenaline.

Young holds him like this for long moments, and Rush hears Camile and Lieutenant Johanson leave with the airmen who are maneuvering the kino sled. When he’s sure they’re far enough way, he moves one hand into Young’s thick curls. Tugs at them softly.

“Come with me, Colonel. A long walk is what you need, and I’ve been meaning to do a bit more exploring on level ten. Seems that there might be a section for manufacturing replacement parts for the ship over there.”

Young gives him a squeeze that has his ribs protesting, and then sets him back down on his feet. “Rush,” he says, and his expression is pure wrecked. “Nick.”

Rush takes a step backwards and gives him a glare. Young is a pain in the arse, but he’ll not let him be alone right now. “You’ll just be in the way in the infirmary, and you know it. Having been on the receiving end of your blasted hovering and shouting when the science team is trying to work, I know Lieutenant Johanson doesn’t need that right now. She’ll let you know as soon as she can about what’s going on with Telford. In the meantime, you can do something useful instead. You’re always telling me not to go off exploring on my own. Well, then, come with me. It’ll keep your mind occupied and the walking will do you good.”

Young shudders. “I might have killed David. He might still die, or at the least be seriously hurt. This is my fault.”

“No such thing,” Rush scoffs back at the man. “Telford gave his consent, and it was just a glitch, apparently, that kept the door shut. An accident. Not your fault and this crew doesn’t need you moping about something that wasn’t your doing. Now, are you coming?”

Young stares at him and then, much to Rush’s surprise, laughs.

It’s a poor excuse for one, ragged and hurting. “A ‘glitch.’ A god-damned glitch?” Anger is building in his voice, in the way he’s clenching his fists, in the way he begins circling Rush. “A man almost dies, may still die or be permanently hurt, and you call it a glitch?”

Anxiety floods through him, but he’s not going to panic, he’s not, he’s not. He will control himself, he will not cower in front of Young like a beaten cur.

“It was a malfunction, Colonel, but we don’t know why it happened or how it resolved. The entire team was working on it, you can ask one of them if you don’t believe me.”

Young is staring hard at him. “Would you kill him, Rush? He fucking raped you, he’s not on your side, hasn’t ever been as far as I know. Would you do that?”

Young is grasping him by the arms again and it feels like he’s looming over Rush, which is ridiculous, he tells himself. The bloody Colonel isn’t that much taller than he is, but he’s pushing Rush against the wall and he’s trapped, he’s trapped, he’s trapped, he’s-.

He hears a small, scared sound, and he despises himself when he realizes he is the source.

The sound stops the Colonel in his tracks. His hands ease off from their punishing grip on his biceps, and he’s fair sure he’ll find bruises there later. There’s a sick look on the Colonel’s face, his eyes are glistening.

Quietly, he says, looking straight into Rush’s eyes like the answer to all the unsolved mysteries of the universe can be found there, “Did you sabotage the door and the venting?”

“No!” he whispers back, willing with all his heart for the Colonel to hear the truth in his voice, see it in his eyes. “I didn’t.”

“He’s hurt you.”

“You hurt me. You left me on a planet to die. You raped me on that table. I didn’t get revenge on you, or on Ginn.”

“You forgave me and Ginn, I know you did. Are you saying you’ve forgiven Telford, too? That you don’t want to see him dead?”

“I. . . “ Rush falls quiet, because truthfully, he doesn’t know how he feels. He needs a god damned moment, everything happened so fast. He looks down and away.

Young won’t let him, he’s gently turned his face up and their eyes lock together. Fucking Everett Young and his fucking eyes and his fucking face with that fucking relentless expression. He waits and Rush knows he’ll wait until he get the truth out of him.

“I don’t want to kill anyone,” Rush says, because it’s true. He doesn’t want to take human lives, even if sometimes he has to do that. “I don’t want to see Colonel Telford dead. I didn’t make the malfunction happen. I, I. . .”

Tears have started rolling down his face. “I know he did what he did to me because of his cover. I know that, and even if he was getting a bit of his own back at me, because I stopped him from blowing up the bloody ship, I wouldn’t kill him for it. Gloria, she, when I think of her, and what she said to me, she’s not my conscience but I want to be the man she thought I was, and I’m not denying it’s hard sometimes, but I didn’t hurt the man. I swear it, Colonel. You have my word on that.”

The Colonel is watching him, and his bloody hands are running up and down Rush’s arms in a soothing gesture.

“Okay, Nick. Okay.”

Rush brings his hands up to his face and scrubs off the tears. “I didn’t know before but I do forgive him. I forgive him.”

It feels freeing to say it, to let it go, to let the anger and hurt and hate rise away from him, the emotions that had been bonded to his soul separating and releasing from him. “And you were right, I already had forgiven you and Ginn, but that was easier, because I knew you didn’t want to do what Kiva made you do, you did it to save me, and as for the girl, once I saw how things really were between her and the Alliance, I knew she only followed along to save herself. I can understand that, being caught like that, and I forgave her. She didn’t want to rape me, either.”

“But you weren’t sure about David. You thought he maybe made it personal.” Young’s voice is quiet, and encouraging and Rush should shut his own gob now, but instead words are piling up behind his teeth and he finds he wants to let them loose.

“Yes. We. . . Well, we had a falling out, years ago now. It doesn’t matter about what.” He gives Young a hesitant glance. He really should just shut up but the words still want to gush out, like water from a broken pipe. “And you’re his friend.”

Young nods. “We’re friends, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind to his faults. He can be a real jackass. And he’s got a way of hitting below the belt, to get what he wants, if he decides it’s important enough.”

“He wanted. . . me. My support, really, but I think. . . he never actually asked me, and fuck knows I’m no good at any of that shite, but Gloria, I was grieving for her and it just felt like he was trying to get his hooks into me, and I’m no for having any of that, so I told him off, and he went from trying to recruit me to trying to discredit me.”

“Recruit you?”

“Aye, that’s what it felt like. And seduction, maybe, hell, I don’t know. He’d. . . touch me a lot. Harmless, on the back and shoulder, he was fond of slinging an arm around me. Stood too close to me, gave me small presents. Brought me a lot of good coffee, not that swill the SGC had on hand.”

“Good coffee, eh? Guess he had your number,” Young says, a smile trying to twitch free. “Don’t think I ever saw you without a mug of the stuff nearby when we were at Icarus.”

Rush sighs. “You know, I have dreams about coffee. Hot, black. Brilliant stuff. I rather missed Colonel Telford bringing it by all the time after our row.”

“Probably he was already brainwashed by Kiva when he was trying to buy your affection with coffee beans.” Young eyed him, and shrugged. “It’s possible that he was attracted to you, but even if he was he would have had a bigger agenda. That’s David’s MO. He likes to build alliances, get people indebted to him for favors. That’s why he’s on such good terms with the IOA. He’s a natural at all of that. But he’s loyal, when he isn’t brainwashed, and he’s saved my life a few times. He’s got that same pragmatic streak you do.”

“I know.”

“But he knows how to lay on the charm, which you don’t.”

“I know, Colonel.” Rush shoots him an irritated look.

“And he’s much better at social skills and team work than you are.”

“I bloody well know all of that, are you done now?” He’s feeling back on firmer ground, and yes, he knows the Colonel is teasing him, but he prefers this feeling of annoyed amusement over the soul wrenching emotions he’d just experienced. This, he thinks, is what keeps Young’s people loyal to him. This way of being careful with them, cajoling them when they need that, or giving clear orders, or joking, even. He steps away from the wall, giving Young a friendly elbow in his side as steps past him.

Young smiles at him, like the sun coming out from dark clouds. “Yep, I’m done. And thank you.”

Rush eyes him. “You should still come with me. I was serious about wanting to check on those areas. And you still need a distraction.”

“Yeah. We’ll go.”

Young radios Scott and tell him where he and Rush are heading and that Scott has got command. Then he hands his radio to Rush and gives him a significant look.

With a huff, Rush radios Brody and tells him that he’ll be with the Colonel on level ten. Brody sounds a bit surprised that Rush bothered to inform him of their plans, but says they’re still working on the diagnostics, trying to figure out what had happened with the door and the venting systems. They’ll let the Colonel know what they find out.

“Yes, fine, you do that,” Rush says impatiently. “Rush out.”

The Colonel still looks like shite, devastation still in his eyes, but he is calmer now, and Rush feels a wave of gratification about that because he did it. Young has been trying to help him since the takeover, he picked Rush up and carried him physically away from where he’d been tortured and Rush appreciates that and everything else he’s done to keep Rush from losing it. He helped stop a panic attack from overwhelming Rush on the planet of the exploding fruit. Being able to return the favor, so to speak, it’s a good thing. It’s a thing he would do again, he decides.

Young is eyeing him a little quizzically, and he waves a hand for Rush to take point. He follows him without a word as they leave Telford’s room.

* * *

Rush briskly points out the areas along the way to where they’re going where teams have already explored and marked doors as safe or not safe to open. Nothing has been done for months now, since before the Alliance had taken the ship. One entire section with multiple rooms is open to space, behind their doors, and the repairs will be costly in terms of resources and time. Rush fills Young’s silence with plans to use their robot and his hope that the area ahead that he thinks can manufacture hull plating will prove true.

“And how did you figure that out?” Young says. “The last time I received a report, this upcoming area was locked down and the data base not accessible about what the hell is in here.”

Rush curses himself for suggesting this little field trip, then, because he’s bollixed it up, not remembering that this was information and passageways the master code had unlocked for him.

He shrugs and avoids the Colonel’s gaze, reaching to rub at the back of his neck. “I’ve been telling Destiny in every way I can how desperate our situation is. The information became available.” There. Not technically a lie. Just leaving some rather pertinent bits out. He hopes the Colonel will be satisfied with his answer.

“But only to you, right?” The Colonel looks a mixture of suspicious and impressed. “You know they call you the ship whisperer, don’t you?”

Rolling his eyes, Rush says, “I can’t be held responsible for whatever nonsense the crew babbles about, Colonel. I’m just doing my job.”

“Right. You know, your job also includes sharing what you learn.”

Rush makes an indigent sound. “Which I’m doing right now.”

“No,” the Colonel says thoughtfully. “Or at least, it’s not the primary reason we’re down here. Thanks for that. I mean it. I, well, I wasn’t at my best earlier.”

He smiles at Rush. “You’re stronger than you look. Also, good job on the surprise move that had me hugging you before I realized what the hell you’d just pulled. If you ever want to practice some self defense moves, I’d be happy to show you. I think you’d probably end up using them in pretty creative ways.”

“Colonel Young, this is TJ.”

Young grabs his radio and has it up to his mouth with breathtaking speed. “Young here. Report, TJ.”

Colonel Telford is stable for now. He’s still showing symptoms that could be from a stroke at this point, but it’s too soon to tell if there will be permanent damage.”

“Do you need help from Earth?”

“No, sir. He needs rest now and to be monitored. No visitors at this time. I’ll let you know when that changes.”

“Ok, TJ. Take care of him.”

“Yes, sir. TJ out.

Young attaches the radio to his belt and plasters a stoic look on his face. “Okay, let’s go find this manufacturing room of yours.”

* * *

Rush is quite pleased to find that yes, there is a manufacturing plant, with 3-D printers and many enormous hoppers of various materials, some plastics, some metals, some minerals, and specialized instructions with the formulas needed to make all kinds of various things. He’s going to put Brody onto this straightaway. His engineering background will be quite useful.

They’ve been down here for hours and hours and Young has been poking around, looking at everything, but now he’s just staring uncomprehendingly at engraved words in metal at a work station.

Rush walks over to him and pushes him to the side a bit, so he can read what the Ancients had to say. He snorts when he’s finished. Bloody Ancients.

“What’s it say?”

Rush reads the language out loud and Young shoots him a look. “English, Rush.”

“Yes, well, when are you and your soldiers going to learn Ancient? Lieutenant Scott is the only one of your lot who’s even made an effort.”

“How about you set up a class schedule, and I’ll make sure you’ll have plenty of students,” Young fires back and his eyes look amused as Rush realizes he just smart alecked himself into extra work. Bollocks. As if he has any time to spare from learning the bridge and his regular duties.

“Colonel, I don’t have the time--”

Young interrupts him, says lightly, “You can let the science team in on your pet projects. That should free up your time enough to teach Ancient three times a week, for say, two hours.”

Rush shoots him a disgusted look and the Colonel out right chuckles. Well, if he’s got to have his time tied up like that, he won’t be in it alone.

“I expect you to be there as well, Colonel. To set a good example and all.”

The Colonel just grins. “Oh, I’m coming. If I’m not there, I’m betting you’ll dismiss class about fifteen minutes later. So, will you please translate this now?” He waves a hand towards the sign. It’s lovely, as is everything the Ancients have engineered.

“It’s a list of safety precautions to take, basically. Hard hats are to be worn, correct footgear, and so on.”

“Really.”

“Yes, well, it’s all written rather lyrically, but essentially, it’s the same as any, what agency is it in America? OSHA? Any agency that deals with manufacturing safety requirements.”

“Seems awfully mundane for the Ancients.”

“Aye, it does. But I suppose they could get themselves hurt. After hearing from McKay about some of the half-arsed ways they left their work places, with bloody booby traps for the unsuspecting person who stumbled across it, they needed reminders about safety as much as humans do.” Rush has some mixed feelings about the Ancients, and he doesn’t revere them as semi-gods, the way some people do. For a very intelligent race, they’d made some blunders. Ascension is fascinating, though. He’d like to learn more about the process someday.

“Want to have that chess game when we’re done here?” Young asks, elbowing him gently.

“I should get back to work, Colonel. See what my team has been doing.”

Young turns to face him and puts his hands on his hips, looks upwards, as if for guidance in dealing with him. “You’re always working. Take a break, Nick.”

“There’s so much to do.” It sounds like a weak excuse, even to him. And apparently to Colonel Young, because the man just gives a snort of amused exasperation.

“There’s always going to be too much to do, genius. You’re here for the long run, you’ve got to learn to pace yourself. Sleep when you get tired. Have some fun once in a while.” Young gave him a shove on his shoulder. “We done here?”

Rush nods, runs a hand through his messy hair. Blasted stuff keeps wanting to fall into his eyes. “Aye. I’ll need to come back with Brody, but then we can start manufacturing the hull plating. Fix the ship, that’s what you’re always telling me. Now I’ll have a decent shot at it.” Rush heads for the large doors and Young follows him out into the corridor.

Rush pushes the door console and the doors slide shut. “The corridor down this way needs to be examined.” He fishes out a piece of chalk from his pants pocket. “We can mark which doors are safe to open and which open out to space.”

Young holds up a hand. “Not so fast, hotshot. We don’t have the equipment with us to rig up safety lines.”

“There’s your belt.”

“Nope. It’s pretty worn out.” Young’s got a mulish expresssion, which doesn’t bode well for convincing him to help Rush. “C’mon. We’ve been down here for hours, and we missed lunch. Time to head to the mess.”

“You go on. I’m not hungry.” Rush can’t go to the mess, he just can’t. Sometime this evening, Brody will leave a bowl of protein slush for him. He’s tired of it, and he’s not sure why Brody hasn’t brought other food. He won’t ask him, though. He and Brody haven’t spoken a word together about their arrangement. Thank fuck. Brody is a solid man, someone Rush can rely on and he doesn’t question Rush. He’s different with Park and Volker. They have odd conversations sometimes, and Brody smiles and laughs with them. The three of them are friends.

He’s not friends with Brody. They are work colleagues, and there is respect between them. But Brody doesn’t try to make him laugh, or tease him or invite him to eat with him.

Does Colonel Young think of him as a friend? Certainly he’s talked more with Young about personal things than he has with anyone else on Destiny. Does he want to be friends with the man? He’s no sure. It would complicate things a great deal. And sometimes, when he looks at Young, he feels that wayward attraction that he has no earthly idea what to do with, except what he’s been doing. Ignoring it.

Young fixes a stubborn look at him. “If you think I’m leaving you down here to indulge in your curiosity and maybe get yourself blown out into space, think again. You can come back tomorrow, with a team, with the right equipment. This isn’t like when we first got dumped through the stargate and had to explore the ship right away. I heard the reports when I was back in command, and we were lucky we didn’t lose anybody. We’re doing this right, Rush.”

Rush wants to argue, but he knows he’s pushed one of the Colonel’s buttons, the need to make sure his people are safe. He’s quite sure he could manage on his own, but he’s tired and fighting with Young isn’t worth it.

Maybe a game of chess would be nice. He hasn’t played Eli since before the Alliance took the ship. If he manages this correctly, he might even get a decent dinner out of it.

“Colonel, I might take you up on your offer of a game of chess. If you’ll grab us our dinners from Becker, I’ll meet you at your quarters with the chess board.” He finds himself hoping the Colonel will agree. It’s sounding more and more like a pleasant way to spend the evening. He’s not quite caught back up on his sleep, despite the long hours he spent passed out in Young’s bed last night. Perhaps he’ll be able to sleep easier tonight if he has a relaxing few hours before laying down.

The look Young gives him makes him want to fidget, because there’s a knowing and gentle expression on his face, like he knows Rush won’t go to the mess. It makes him feel shame, because not being able to go near the place means Kiva still has the upper hand with him. Although even Kiva had gotten tired of his avoiding eating there. He remembers how she ordered that he start going, or take Koz and his cronies up on their offer of sharing their food in exchange for letting them watch him masturbate himself. That would only have lasted until Kiva approved him acting as ship’s whore; they’d have fucked him then, without his say-so. He shudders with the memories.

“Yeah,” Young says softly, looking kind, “We can do that. It’ll be fun.”

* * *

They walk along together, with no need to chatter, much like how they’d worked together on the planet picking fruit. Rush is thinking about the hull plating, estimating how many panels they’d need to fix the known holes in the hull, when Young’s radio goes off.

“Colonel, this is Scott. Go to channel two. I need a word, privately.”

Young answers him, and holds up a hand for Rush to stay put. “Give me a moment,” he says, and walks ahead far enough that Rush can’t hear their conversation.

It’s considerably longer than a moment before Young rejoins him. Rush has made use of the time and the chalk he has with him and is sketching out his estimates for time and materials to do the repairs on the corridor walls. He’s lost in thought, but he notes absently that the Colonel is walking towards him.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder and spins him around violently. He’s shoved hard into the corridor wall, and he drops his chalk in shock.

Young is furious. Rush’s heart pounds in his chest, and fear ratchets up.

Young’s hands are clenched in front of him. “You lying son of a bitch!” he shouts. “Eli found it, what you tried to hide! Everything! The master code, the bridge, even the fucking power bars you stole and stashed there! You could have told us. You could have told me! I should beat the crap out of you for what you’ve pulled. And you did it, didn’t you? You tried to kill David! You set it up from the bridge!”

Young steps back from him, and Rush knows he’s one breath away from beating Rush to a pulp. He’s seen Young look like this before, when he used his hands and his head to knock Rush unconscious. The man is holding his hands down, he’s trying to control himself but Rush can’t trust that control. He can’t trust that Young won’t take his revenge for Rush lying to him. Oh, God, rape. He’s been beaten before, he can endure that, but he won’t be raped again. He can’t, he can’t, he won’t. Young might actually kill him afterwards, get rid of his body.

His mouth is dry, his hands are sweating, and he’s terrified. He touches the screwdriver hidden in his cuff and it slides out into his hand. Flashes of how he’d fought against the men who’d stripped him and tied him to the table in the mess overwhelm him and he has to run.

He doesn’t even realize he’s moving until he’s pushed Young so hard that he’s knocked him away. He’s sprinting down the hall. He’s flying as fast as he can and he’s got to find a way out or to hide until Young’s temper has cooled.

“Rush!” Young bellows behind him, and he’s running back past the manufacturing room, he needs to get out of Young’s sight, find a cross corridor, barricade himself in a room somewhere.

He dares to look behind him and Young is catching up. He ducks around a corner and thank fuck comes into a nexus where six corridors come together. He charges down one on his left and hopes Young will be delayed enough by checking the others to not see him, as he skids to a stop in front of a door. Panting, he hits the control. Nothing happens. Trembling, he enters two digits of the master code, then Young slams into him and they are rolling on the deck.

The impact knocks his screwdriver from his hand and he’s hitting Young with everything he has, sitting astride him, but Young flips him and he’s on top of Rush and his heavy arm is across his neck; he can feel his heart pounding, Young is holding him down, like they did, and he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe he. . .

His vision goes dark.

* * *

Chapter 17

Everett feels Rush’s body go limp under his, and he rolls off him, checks to make sure he’s breathing. God damn the man and his secrecy and his recklessness. God damn him for scaring the life out of Everett by running off into an unsafe area. When he saw Rush jabbing at a door control, willing to take a chance that he’d get blown out into space rather than face Everett, he’d been terrified.

It’s your fault, you asshole, that condemning voice in his head points out. You terrified him first. You laid your hands on him and you threatened to hurt him. When you know what he’s been through! You know that was the wrong way to get to bottom of this business of hiding the bridge and what happened with David.

Rush’s pulse is slow, his breathing steady. He’ll come around soon; and although he doubts Rush will believe him, he was careful with the hold that put him out. He didn’t crush his windpipe, just put enough pressure on his carotid artery so he could get the situation under control. A wrestler’s hold, common enough. Even though he’s sure Rush will be okay, he radios TJ, goes to a private channel and explains succinctly what he did and why and gives her coordinates to meet him and Rush so she can check him over. He asks her to brief Greer and bring him, too.

He’s not going to stay here. Not this close to where Rush had made that desperate, maybe suicidal dash towards danger.

He needs to secure Rush before he wakes up. He won’t take a chance that the man gets away from him and tries again to play Destiny Roulette by unlocking a room that’s open to space.

Sliding off his tired, old belt, he secures Rush’s ankles together with it. He decides to use Rush’s own shoelaces to tie his hands together, wishing he had some of the zipties he regularly carried when he was with his old SGC team. He unties the laces, yanks them free of Rush’s gym shoes. He doesn’t want to hurt Rush, no matter what he’d yelled at him when his anger had erupted at Matt’s report. He pulls Rush’s jacket sleeves down to protect his wrists from friction and efficiently ties Rush’s wrists together. He should have secured Rush’s hands behind his back, for maximum control and security, but he didn’t. It hurts to have your arms pulled back like that, as he knows from past experience.

He’s trying to make it up to Rush for his stupid, stupid comment about wanting to beat the crap out of him. He doubts that Rush will understand that he’s going easy on him. That’s okay. It’s what he deserves for fucking up once again on how to deal with the difficult man who’s lying on the deck.

Rush’s eyes are fluttering. Everett hauls him up and over his shoulder, holding him tightly as he jogs down the corridor towards his meeting place with TJ and Greer.

He can tell the moment when Rush actually wakes up. His body stiffens and he tries to throw himself off of Everett’s shoulder. He’s not going anywhere, but his movements cause his loose shoes to fall off his feet.

Everett lets them lie there. They can get them later. “Hey, you’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you, but I don’t trust you right now to not do something stupid and lethal. Do you even realize that you could be dead right now if I hadn’t stopped you from opening that door? Convince me that you’re rational and I’ll turn you loose.”

Rush is silent, but Everett can feel him trying to maneuver his hands free from where they’re pinned against Everett’s chest. Everett sighs and shifts Rush so he’s hanging even more down his back, so that he can’t reach Everett’s head with his fists. Rush is scrappy, he’d try to scratch or bite or use his fists to claw his way free.

“Settle down, I won’t hurt you. We need to talk.”

“Just talk, is it?” Rush sounds like he’s trying for a sneer, but instead what Everett hears is bravado and fear.

He says, a little breathlessly, “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do. And I meant what I said. I won’t hit you or hurt you.” He hears in his own voice anger at himself and frustration and guilt. He’s handled this badly, and tying the man up can’t be helping because that was what Kiva had done, but he doesn’t trust Rush not to run away.

“And I should believe you now? You threatened me with physical harm, Colonel. You’ve beat me down before, and done worse.” Rush is shaking. Still running his mouth, but trying so hard to be brave and belligerent.

Everett sighs and keeps up his fast pace, practically running, one foot in front of the other, because that’s what he does when he just wants to give up. He keeps on doing what needs to be done. “Are we never going to get past what happened on that planet, Rush? I was wrong to leave you there, I was wrong to try and settle our differences with that fight. But you’re not blameless. You framed me for murder, just so you could have your own way with the ship. I thought we moved on from there.”

“Yes, so did I.” Rush says nothing for a time, then mutters to himself, sounding dismayed. “Oh, fuck, no.” More loudly he demands, “Put me down. I’ll not run away this time, if you give me your word you won’t hit me or do worse.”

“What do you mean by worse?”

“Rape. Put me down, Colonel, please,” Rush gasps. “I’d hate to vomit all down your back.”

Everett flinched. Not about Rush upchucking, but did he really believe Everett would rape him? For what? Punishment? Revenge, anger? And to think that they had actually had been planning to spend time together this evening, acting like friends.

“This had better not be a trick so you can run off, Rush.” He slows down his pace.

“It’s not. I, I. . . you. I know you’re angry, but you caught me off guard, before. And I was. . . I was. . . It won’t happen now.”

Everett fills in the blanks with the words Rush can’t say. He does sound like he’s thinking now and not just reacting. “Give me your word to stay with me and I’ll give you mine that you’re safe around me.” He swallows and says, trying to get across his sincerity, “I would never rape you unless lives were at stake.”

“Fine, I agree,” Rush says hastily and Everett stops in front of the elevator and pushes some buttons, steps inside, still carrying Rush.

“Okay,” Everett says, “as soon as we step out, I’ll turn you loose. TJ’s meeting us here, to check you over. And then, I want answers. Truthful ones.”

Rush doesn’t say anything, not until Everett has deposited him on a bench not far from where they exited the elevator. He looks pale and sweaty, and the skin around his left eye is reddened. He’s going to have a spectacular black eye.

Everett makes short work of cutting the laces and removing the belt from Rush’s ankles. “Still nauseous? Lightheaded?”

Rush nods, and swallows convulsively over and over. Everett places a hand on the back of his neck. “Put your head between your legs, see if that helps.”

Rush’s skin feels warm under his fingers, and he does as Everett suggests. “Deep breaths,” Everett adds, and “This okay? My hand?”

Rush mumbles yes, so Everett leaves his hand in place. It had been something his mother had always done when he felt sick to his stomach as a kid. It had helped him, but he’s not sure why the feel of his palm would be comforting to Rush. The man is confusing and a lot of work.

His initial anger at Rush is gone, the adrenaline fueling it burned away by running to stop Rush from self-destructing and their fight and carrying the man here. He’s not big, light frame, small stature, but hauling him around hadn’t been a picnic, either.

They stay that way for several minutes, until Rush sits back up. He looks a little better. Everett stands up, moves so he can block the elevator if Rush does double cross him and tries for it.

Rush glances at him, and then shrugs. “Colonel, do me a favor and order the Science Team to keep their hands off the bridge controls until I can teach them the proper way to handle them.”

“I guess we know now where you’ve been spending your time. And Lieutenant Scott already did what you asked, except for Eli’s checking about the master code. What I don’t get is why? Why the god damned secrecy, Rush? Why couldn’t you have told us about this? I want to believe you about David, but, damn it, when you lie, either directly or by omission, you make it so hard to trust what you say.”

Rush is saved from having to answer by TJ’s and Greer’s arrival. While TJ checks Rush out, Everett motions Greer over.

“Sir?” Greer says with a casual salute.

“Once TJ clears Rush, she’ll be going back to the infirmary. I want you to stay, wait till Rush and I talk, and then keep him with you while I talk to the Science Team.”

“Got it,” Greer says. His eyes flick over to where TJ is examining Rush’s neck, her fingers carefully mapping out any damage.

“I was careful when I put him out,” Everett tells him. “Calling TJ down here was for his peace of mind, not because I hurt him. He’s okay, other than bruises from rolling around on the deck. If anything, he might have a mild concussion. And he’s gonna have a shiner.”

Greer gives him a sly look. “He’s not going to be the only one, sir.”

Great. The crew will know they’ve been in a fight. “Give us some privacy when we talk, but make sure you’re in eyesight.” He pauses, and then adds, although it’s probably not necessary because he’s sure that Greer understands why Everett asked for him to be down here, “And make sure Rush stays in one piece.”

“Yes, sir,” Greer drawls out. “Nothing’s gonna happen to Doc on my watch.”

“Lieutenant Scott and TJ briefed you about what he did?”

“I’m aware, Colonel. You know what else makes sense to me now? How the door to our cell was unlocked and how all those Lucians died by suffocation. Eli says that Rush was trapped in his room while all that was happening. I’m thinking Eli needs to dig a little deeper. The way I see it, the only reason we’re probably even alive is sitting over there with TJ.” Greer subtly nods towards the pair and Everett finds himself staring at his chief scientist. He’s sure Greer is right. He wonders if Rush will admit it.

TJ waves Everett over and Greer takes that as his cue to go stand down the hall.

“Well,” TJ says, when Everett joins her and Rush. “There’s no damage or bruising to his neck, nothing that should swell up and make it hard for him to breathe.” She glances down at Rush, who is sitting on the bench quietly. “He said he was having trouble breathing before he became unconscious.”

“Panic attack, most likely,” Rush murmured. “Understandable, since I thought the Colonel was going to kill me or worse.”

He’s trying for that sarcastic edge they’d all gotten used to hearing from the man, but he can’t quite pull it off.

“Otherwise, he’s going to have some bruises. No concussion. Would you like me to take a look at you, sir?” TJ asks, but he waves her off.

“You sure about the concussion? He got nauseous.”

Rush mutters, “Because I was being jostled upside down over your shoulder while you trotted here. I’m fine now.” His voice takes on a defiant tone. “You want to know why I did what I did, well then, let’s have a go.”

“TJ, any change in David’s condition?”

She shakes her head no, and he dismisses her.

Once they’re alone in the nexus that borders the elevator, Everett sits down next to Rush. He sighs, feeling exhausted. He wants to trust that Rush won’t take off again, but he can’t get the image of Rush frantically trying to open a door that could have killed him out of his head.

“I’m going to do my best not to get mad at what you have to tell me, Nick. But you’ve got a way of getting under my skin more than anybody I’ve ever met. Greer’s your insurance, you understand?” He’s tired. Tired of fighting with this man. Tired of being the one the crew looks to when things go wrong. Tired of knowing he’s become a shitty commander.

Rush shoots him a complicated look. “Greer’s your man through and through. He’ll look the other way if you decide to really strangle me this time, Colonel.”

“You’re right. . . and you’re wrong. It’s because he’s looking out for me that he won’t let that happen. He’s a hell of a Master Sergeant and he knows I need you. We all do, everybody on this ship.” He starts to elbow Rush in the side, but stops himself short of actually touching the guy. “Besides, he likes you. He won’t let you be hurt. The man does what’s right, and if that means knocking down an officer for a good reason, he’ll do it.”

Rush cocks his head a little, looking at him. “I didn’t pay much attention on Icarus about the goings on of the military, but he clocked Colonel Telford, didn’t he?”

“And he had a good reason.”

Rush scrubs his hands through his unruly hair and winces as he gently touches the skin under his left eye. “Ask your questions, Colonel.”

“I will.” He swallows, knowing that what he’s going to ask for Rush will probably turn down. But he can’t get the thought of Rush being blown out into space out of his mind. “Don’t take this the wrong way; I’m not hitting on you, but would you give me your hand first? I want to hold onto your wrist, just in case you get freaked out again and try for the elevator.”

Rush raises his eyebrows, but complies. He looks as weary as Everett feels, as he glances over, their eyes locking before Rush stares straight ahead. His wrist is thin, warm, and Everett grasps it firmly. Maybe Rush will actually talk to him about this mess, if he’s willing to indulge Everett’s anxiety this way.

“Let’s start with the master code. When did you break it?”

* * *

“How can you just forgive him?” Brody demands, leaning forward in his seat at a monitoring station on the bridge. The bridge is intriguing, with its command chair center and the different monitoring stations. And complicated. Rush is going to have a lot of work with training the crew to handle these controls.

Everett had chosen a place on the steps leading down to the center, sitting with his hands loosely clasped on his lap. He intends this to be a discussion, not a lynching party, and from the disgruntled expressions on the Science Team, they need to vent their own frustrations at being kept out of the loop.

Everett says, “Who said anything about forgiving him? What I want is to understand why he did what he did. I want to verify that the things he’s said are true.”

Ginn pushes her long red hair back over her shoulder, smooths it down. “Colonel? When we couldn’t open Colonel Telford’s door or replace his air, Doctor Rush sent us out of the control interface room to other stations to try from there to regain control.”

“Yeah,” Dale Volker breaks in, looking sour, “and he knew that was useless, but he sent us anyway.”

“So why did you go?” Everett asks mildly. “Why listen to him when you knew it was pointless?”

Lisa Park and Volker exchange looks, and Volker shrugs. “He, he was like he used to be, snapping out orders and taking charge and he said to go.”

“I guess we were hoping he knew something we didn’t,” Park says thoughtfully.

“Before he sent us out, he started talking to, I don’t know, but it seemed like he was having an argument with someone not there,” Ginn says, hesitantly.

“Hallucinating?” Eli looks up from the monitor where he’s been poring through code, trying to prove or disprove what Rush had told Everett about the program he’d inserted that made it seem like he was locked in his room when in reality he’d been holed up here in the bridge learning systems and initiating their take back of the ship. That and if he was responsible for David almost suffocating before he used the master code to unlock the door and to vent air back into the room.

“Maybe,” Everett says. “He claims he was talking to Destiny’s AI.”

All the scientists react to that. Eli looks positively jubilant at the idea. “Oh, far out,” he gushes, a look of wonder on his face. “Seriously, Destiny has an AI? Cool. I’m gonna get Rush to introduce me.”

Brody and Volker exchange glances, their eyebrows raised. “Hal?” Volker says under his breath to Brody, but Everett hears him anyway. “Skynet?” Brody mutters back to him, but before they can hijack this conversation into anecdotes about fictional evil AIs, Everett clears his throat and gives them a pointed look. They shut up, but Everett is sure they’ll pick that conversation back up later.

He looks at Ginn, and says, “Go on.”

“I didn’t go with Lisa and Dale,” Ginn says, her voice small. She reminds him of his niece when the girl was confessing to some transgression. “I stayed in the corridor where Doctor Rush couldn’t see me, but I could watch him and listen. He accused whoever he was talking to of making saving Colonel Telford a test.”

“A test of what?” Brody demands. “And how come you didn’t tell us anything about this?”

“I’m, I’m sorry, Brody. You’re right, I should have talked to the rest of the team and I should have gone to you, Colonel.” Ginn shoots him a wary look. “I apologize. I didn’t say anything because Doctor Rush was clearly uncomfortable talking about it and I owe him. I’m sorry. I knew he wasn’t telling me the whole story when I asked him about it. He said he was talking to the ship. Maybe he wasn’t lying after all, then, if he was talking to an invisible AI.”

“The test was about him,” Everett makes a gesture with his hands expressing skepticism, even though he wants to believe Rush. He owes it to the crew to make sure Rush wasn’t just blowing smoke up his ass. “Or so he says. If he would choose to save Colonel Telford at the risk of being found out that he was hiding the bridge, or if he would let him die in revenge for what David had done to him on Kiva’s orders.”

“He was crying,” Ginn says softly. “And he did choose to save Colonel Telford. But why did the ship want to test him like that?”

“Rush says the ship is trying to learn about us. Probably comparing us to the Ancients.” Everett looks around the room, at Park, who Rush had saved by killing Simeon; at Brody, who for weeks has been quietly making sure Rush won’t starve to death; to Eli, who braved Kiva’s wrath to try to help Rush, to Volker, who can’t stop seeing Rush being tortured on the table.

“Oh my God,” Eli blurts out. “When we took back the ship, Ginn, he saved you. He could have killed you like he did all those other Lucian Alliance members, but he saved you instead.”

“I know,” Ginn says, and then tears are spilling down her cheeks. “He forgave me for the things I did to him.”

“He was like the Angel of Death,” Park breathes out, sounding horrified. “He had to decide who to kill and who to let live.”

“He acted for the good of this crew,” Everett says sternly. “Of course, he also saved himself; Kiva’s intentions towards him didn’t make for a pleasant future.”

“He also killed Doctor Boone,” Volker says, looking conflicted, sounding resolute. “I guess it was accidentally, but that’s small comfort to his family.”

Rush told Everett that he hadn’t known Doctor Boone had been brought to the bridge by the Lucians until he’d seen the body. He’d sounded genuinely remorseful for the man’s death, but then had squared his shoulders and told Everett that even if he’d known, if he had no other way to get Doctor Boone away, he’d have still vented the air from the bridge. It would have been for the greater good, he’d explained.

Everett decides to keep that to himself. But he doesn’t hold it against Rush. In fact, he agrees with him.

“We probably couldn’t have taken back the ship with the low amount of casualties on our side if he hadn’t done what he did. I have zero problems with him about that,” Everett says. “If anyone else feels differently, let’s hear your reasoning.”

No one speaks.

“I understand,” Brody says. “But what I don’t get is why afterwards he kept it a secret and why he didn’t tell us about the bridge.”

“I think I know,” Park offers quietly, and her fingers are nervously tangling together.

They all look at her and Volker reaches out his hand and Park takes it. She bites at her lip and everyone just waits for her to say what is clearly troubling her.

“I’ve been going to the support group for people who were assaulted, sexually or physically or emotionally, by the Lucians. Actually, it’s kind of grown from that into talking about what’s happened to people before they came to Destiny. People are opening up about things that occurred to them as kids, or being date raped, or groped or molested. There’s been so much. . . Anyway, being violated in those ways? People want to feel safe. They want to feel in control. What happened to Doctor Rush was horrific, and not just when he was being raped on the table. Simeon, he. . . I know that Doctor Rush played along until he could attack him but the things he had to say and to do? To save himself and to save me?”

Park looks close to tears, but she swallows down the sob that clearly wants to break free, and her voice firms as she says, “He hid the bridge partly because he wanted a safe place where no one could find him and hurt him. A kind of sanctuary. I might have done the same thing, if it had been me who figured out the master code first.”

Volker clears his throat. “Colonel? What did Rush say was his reason? He didn’t say what Lisa just did, did he?” Volker and Brody were moving closer to Park, and she was still holding Volker’s hand.

“No. But I think what Lisa just said is correct.” He gives Park a nod, hoping he’s communicating that he appreciates what she said. It couldn’t have been easy for her.

He looks directly at Volker. “What Rush said was that while the Lucians still had control he used the time spent here to start learning about the systems so we could take back the ship. Afterwards, after he vented the air out of the Lucian’s quarters and unlocked our cell, giving us as much advantage as he could, he still kept it secret because he needed to learn everything he could so that he could teach the rest of you guys without you, uh, messing things up.”

“He could have told you, Colonel, at least. You could have ordered us to follow his lead on learning the controls,” Brody points out.

But Rush hadn’t trusted that Everett would agree to a hands off approach for the rest of the scientists. And honestly, Everett can’t say that he wouldn’t have given the go ahead for the others to start on their own to learn these systems.

“I think Lisa is right, but, well, he is Rush,” Eli chimes in. “Keeping secrets, that’s a way of life for that guy.”

“It’s so hard to trust again, when you’ve been hurt like that,” Lisa says. “If it’s a way of life for Doctor Rush to keep things to himself, then maybe it’s because he’s had a lifetime of experiences that have hurt him. Listening to everybody in the group? It’s very difficult to begin trusting again. You keep expecting things to go bad all the time; it’s just so very damaging to experience your body and your trust being violated, especially when it happens from someone you had trusted to care for you, to protect you even.”

Like the man who is in charge of the mission,” Everett thinks.

“Are you saying we should excuse him for not showing us the bridge?” Volker says, turning to her. “Because that doesn’t sit right with me. He made a decision to cut us out, and we are his team. Young is our leader. And we didn’t rape himmm. . .”

Volker trails off, realizing too late, obviously, that he’s just shoved his foot into his mouth.

Blandly, Everett says, “I did rape him. You all know why, so I don’t need to explain myself. And the rest of the time we watched him be tortured and humiliated. We didn’t stop them from hurting him.”

“Yeah, that’s not so great for that whole trust thing,” Eli says, his head lifting from where he’s still working with code.

“I raped him,” Ginn adds, soberly. “I didn’t do it to save Doctor Rush from Kiva, like the Colonel did. I did it to save myself.”

“Look, I’m not saying what happened to him wasn’t awful and terrible, but do we excuse people for their actions because terrible, awful stuff has happened to them?” Volker asks, frowning.

“No, but it does give us an understanding and a way to move forward,” Park says. “We have to trust each other, because out here, so far away from home, all we’ve got is each other.”

Everett felt a headache start to bloom and he massaged his temple with two fingers. Honestly, he was surprised one hadn’t ambushed him till now. “I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve had trouble trusting Doctor Rush. And I want to trust him now. But his past actions keep getting in the way. He chose to bring us here, to Destiny, when he should have dialed Earth. He did it because he wanted to prove he was right.” He’d had his suspicions about Rush even before the Lucian attack, but when he’d blatantly disregarded Everett’s orders to dial home, and instead dialed the ninth chevron, any trust he’d actually had in Rush to make any decisions for the benefit of others, and not himself, had evaporated.

“Yeah, he did want to prove he was right. He also didn’t want to die, and incidentally, for the rest of us to die. Or Earth to blow up. Colonel, I told you before when you asked me to look into it, that Rush made the right decision,” Eli snaps out.

“Telford said that was in dispute by the science teams back at Homeworld Command. That he could have dialed Earth.”

“Telford said that? The guy who was a brainwashed puppet for the Lucian Alliance? That guy?” Eli says so sarcastically that Everett is sure he’s been taking lessons from Rush. “I guess you didn’t trust me either, then.”

Eli has a point about David and his intel. Maybe Everett hadn’t trusted Eli enough back then, not compared to the brainiacs at the SGC. He hadn’t talked directly to any of the scientists back on earth, though. Plus, he’d been suspicious of the influence Rush had on the kid. At times it had even felt like a tug of war between him and Rush over Eli. He’d suspected that Rush had convinced Eli he’d had to dial the gate, that any other option would have resulted in deaths.

But he totally trusted Eli now, both his character and his skills. “I trust you, Eli.”

“Well, gee thanks. So by the transitive property, if you trust what I told you, then you have to trust Rush about it, since we’re in agreement. What else haven’t you trusted Rush about?” Eli went back to his work, but his body language told Everett he was listening intently.

“He knew that Destiny was in no danger when it was flying towards that star, the first time we refueled. He knew and he kept it to himself. He could have put a lot of people’s fears to rest, and he didn’t care enough to tell us. He let us send out people in the shuttle and it’s only--”

“Only by his fast thinking and skills that we got them back,” Eli snaps out.

“He said he did it because we needed the supplies back.” It sounds like defensive nonsense now to Everett. Maybe because he knows Rush better than he did. Knows he stepped in front of of Eli and Chloe and Brody and shielded them from the guns the Lucians were pointing at them.

Eli snorts at that. “And you expected what? For him to hug it out with all of us who were celebrating in the mess? I told you then that he didn’t know about the star. I saw him right after he figured it out. He was elated; he said he was happy that he’d been wrong. He’s not that good of an actor, Colonel. We can all tell when he’s hiding something or if he’s upset or amused.”

Shaking his head, Eli sighs. “He was just being a grumpy ass when you wanted him to join in on the party and he didn’t want to hang out. You couldn’t leave it alone, trying to give him a reward, which yes, nice idea, but couldn’t you see that you having the authority to effect something as basic as how much food he can have just rubbed him the wrong way? You kept trying to compliment him, to force him to acknowledge that he’d been doing a good job and he just wasn’t in the mood. Of course he was going to keep shooting you down by making himself out to not care about the crew. He’s probably got some self sabotage thing going on about accepting compliments. I saw through him; I don’t get why you didn’t.”

“He admitted he knew we would be okay about the star. He admitted it.” Everett clung to his past perception, even as it was slowly breaking apart and reforming into something new. God damn it, figuring out Rush would be the job of a lifetime. He wasn’t sure he had the energy for it, but he couldn’t deny his fascination with the man.

“No!” Eli shoots back, sounding irritated. “You accused him of that and he didn’t deny it. So you, what, thought that was the truth? Maybe he just doesn’t care what people think about him, and decides it’s pointless to try to change their opinion of him.”

Brody says, “Sounds about right for Rush.”

Everett runs his hands through his hair. “He’s a lot of work.”

Eli snorts again. “Yeah, well, I think at this point we can all take that as a given. But don’t you think he’s worth it?”

“I do, actually.”

“Not that we aren’t mad at him for keeping,” Eli waves his hands expansively taking in the bridge, ‘all of this a secret from us. And yeah, annoyed that he didn’t trust us with it. But I don’t think he should be punished.”

“No,” says Brody.

Volker shakes his head and Park looks worriedly at him. Ginn seems to be holding her breath.

“No punishment,” Everett says. “And let’s all think about how to get the son-of-a-gun to trust us more.”

“What about you?” Eli asks. “Do you trust him now? Will you trust him in the future, believe that he’s not going to just screw us over for his own benefit?”

“I’m going to try. So, Rush says that these controls are dangerous in untrained hands. He promises to start training you all immediately, but I’m asking for a favor. He’s pretty tired right now, so keep it to reasonable hours, okay?”

“Sure,” Eli says. “And hey, Colonel? I’ve uncovered his hack job on the Alliance keeping tabs about who was locked in their rooms. He was telling the truth about it. That, and he didn’t set up Telford to suffocate. God, he’s fantastic with Destiny’s code. You realize that back on Earth he could have been one of the best hackers ever?”

“Back on Earth,” Volker says. “Except he doesn’t want to go back to Earth. I don’t think there’s anything there for him, and he wants Destiny to be his life’s work. He’s said that before, you know. That Destiny is meant to be his life’s work.”

“Yep,” and Brody nods his head. “He gets kind of passionate about it.”

“And since we’re talking about trust, that’s a problem,” Volker continues. “People on board this ship have a problem with trusting that he’s actually trying to find a way for us to go home. Sure, when he’s shot down, like, Telford’s scheme to dial home when we’re recharging in a star, he was right to do so. I was on board a hundred percent with him that time. But he was so damn smug about it, I know it planted a lot of doubt in people’s heads about his sincerity about getting us back. For me, anytime he says we can’t do something that would let us dial home, I know I’m going to doubt him about it. That’s just the way it is.” Volker has let go of Park’s hand and crosses his arms over his chest, looking mulish.

“His won’t be the only opinion in a scenario like that. And maybe, if we can find a reliable way to go back and forth, other people will stay,” Park says, glancing between Volker and Brody.

“Cross that bridge when we come to it,” Brody says, rolling his shoulders. “Right now, we don’t have the resources. If Destiny can get up past forty percent on the energy reserves, then maybe we can. The Ancients planned to use the stargate to go back and forth, we know that.”

“Speaking of the Ancients,” Young says, realizing that with all that has happened, that he and Rush hadn’t passed on the good news about the manufactory they’d explored. He smiles at them. “Let me tell you about what Rush and I found. It just might get us up past that forty percent, Brody.”

* * *

He sends the Science Team to the mess, stopping Brody with a hand on his shoulder and tells him he doesn’t need to get anything for Rush tonight, he’ll take care of it.

He feels exhausted even more than before his meeting with the Science Team, and after they leave, when it’s just him on the bridge, he sits down heavily in the command chair. He closes his eyes, but snaps them open again when an image of Rush’s terrified expression from earlier fills his brain. He never wants to see that expression leveled at himself again.

He’s got to find a better way to connect to his chief scientist. He wants what the best of the SGC teams have had with each other, a partnership between the military side of things and the scientific. O’Neill and Jackson. Shephard and McKay. Carter, and well, anybody she’d ever been on a team with. A faint grin crosses his face, remembering how Cal used to sing Carter’s praises.

When the respect between team members was good, they’d done amazing things. He had worked well with the scientists on his own team, back in his SGC days. They’d saved his life, he’d saved theirs. Until they couldn’t be saved, god damn the Alliance.

Make no mistake, he thinks to himself. Rush keeping the bridge a secret from him was not acceptable, no matter what his reasoning had been. He thinks he gets why, now, after talking to Rush and to the Science Team.

They need to move forward, him and Rush. Because for sure there are going to be new situations where Doctor Nicholas Rush, Ph.D, would have to make a decision to tell him about whatever he discovers, or to sit on it until somebody else, probably Eli, finds out his newest secret and outs him.

He’s such a fucking failure. If he was a better commander, Rush wouldn’t feel the need to be such a secretive bastard. He’d left him on that planet, he’d beaten up a civilian, and yeah, he’d kept it private, some kind of version of a boyhood scrap that ends with things sorted out and if not arms flung around each other’s shoulders, at least establishing who was in charge and who needed to toe the line. Except even when he’d lost the fight, Rush hadn’t submitted one little bit. And Rush isn’t trained to fight, he’s a scientist, and a little guy at that. When he thinks about that fight, he feels ashamed because it hadn’t been a fair fight at all, and he wasn’t trying to kill the guy, not like in a combat fight. He just wanted him to acknowledge that he was going to accept Everett’s authority. He should have exposed how he framed Everett, and let justice happen on board the ship.

He wishes intently for some of Brody’s shine right now. Beginning that fight had been a bad decision, how he’d ended it had been a much worse one. He’d knocked Rush out and left him to die, left him right out in the hot sun on a desert planet. Dying by thirst is a horrible way to end a life, and he wonders if Rush had wished that Everett had just finished him off instead of leaving him to wake up and realize he’d been stranded and would probably die of thirst. Probably not. Rush was a scrapper, and even the torture and rape and hunger he’d experienced under Kiva’s reign hadn’t stopped him from finding a way to save them all.

Not all of them. Rush may have accidentally killed Boone, but the fault, like all the other deaths from the Alliance invasion, is Everett’s. He made the wrong call by not immediately venting the air from the gate room during the Lucian incursion. Rush, switched with David’s body, had come through the gate and he’d hesitated, trying to save him. The not so funny thing about that is that both men would have made the decision to keep to the plan, no matter who came unexpectedly through the stargate. Practical, pragmatic bastards, the pair of them.

David is another weight on his mind. He should have known something was wrong, was off, about David. If he’d just been paying better attention, he could have realized that David was compromised. Hell, it was probably David who gave the location of Icarus to the Alliance and called down a firestorm upon the base.

His friend, one of the closest friends he’d ever had, had what looked like a stroke, TJ said. Too early, she’d said, to know what sort of damage had been done. Rush had saved him; Rush, who’d been raped several times by David. Who’d been on David’s hit list with the IOA. Rush had saved him, and had opened the door to Eli figuring out what Rush had been hiding. He owes Rush for that, on a personal level. So does David, if he’s still capable of understanding about it.

There’s others who Everett has wronged. Is still hurting. TJ. His daughter, who TJ won’t let him hold at night anymore, because he’s always drunk in his quarters once he closes his door at night. She’d told him that their daughter wasn’t going to grow up with the smell of alcohol associated with her father’s cuddling her. TJ had been adamant about that. One more thing to feel ashamed of, guilty about, but not guilty enough to stop drinking when the load on his shoulders starts feeling too heavy.

It’s different in the daytime. He can put off the longing to just let go of everything because he’s so fucking busy. But at night, in his quiet quarters, with Destiny’s shield throwing soft colors around his room, he has too much time to think. Every night, he thinks he’ll just take one drink. One drink to relax him. One drink to let the tension slide away. One drink to help him sleep.

It’s never one drink though. And it’s never enough to stop the memories and the guilt from torturing him. Sometimes, sometimes, he’s actually thought that he’d trade Rush all the torture the man had endured for three days on that fucking table for the torture Everett’s own mind puts him through every night.

He sighs, and heaves himself up out of the command chair. It’s a long shot that Rush would even consider this, but he and Rush had made plans for this evening and Everett would like to keep them. They need to move forward, him and Rush, and they need to be the leaders, along with Camile, that the crew needs.

He’d like to put off walking into his quarters alone and being seduced into intoxication by the numbness Brody’s moonshine promises.

He’ll radio Rush and see if he’s still up for dinner together and maybe a quick game of chess. Maybe not in his quarters, like they’d planned originally. Maybe in the observation room, maybe with Greer along. He’d make the offer, and let Rush decide. But first, he wants to see David.

* * *

David is a quiet shape under blankets when he steps into the infirmary. If he’s sleeping or worse, unconscious, Everett will just go. He orders the two guards out into the corridor. He doesn’t want any curious crew watching him and David.

TJ motions him to come speak with her, and he turns away from the sight of his friend of eighteen years looking small on the gurney, despite his actual size. He’s a good bit taller than Everett is, broad in the chest and strong as a horse. The thought that he might be disabled now, unable to use his muscles or his brain is . . . All his fault, all his fault, all his fault.

“Everett,” TJ’s voice is quiet but sharp, and it brings him out of the trance of recrimination he was falling into just now.

He steps to her side, putting back on his commander face, but he knows by how TJ looks at him that she saw him start to spiral down into one of his black moods of depression.

“Lieutenant,” he says.

“Sir,” she replies. There’s a whole conversation that doesn’t happen between them by his using their ranks instead of their given names. They’ll have that talk, he knows, but not now. It’s one of the many reasons he appreciates TJ, her sense of timing and her willingness to wait out what she needs to tell him until he’s ready to hear it.

David, though, David never gave a fuck if Everett was ready to hear what David had to say to him. David would drive right through any stop signs Everett had put up, until he said what he thought Everett needed to hear. Timing be damned, that was David’s style.

He doesn’t know if David is capable of doing that anymore. He might not even recognize Everett, or be able to speak.

TJ says, “Colonel Telford’s stroke symptoms have decreased; there’s a good chance that what he experienced was a TIA, transient and reversible.”

“But you’re not sure.”

“No sir, I’m not.” She smiles at him. “But he’s been trending that way. I’ve got him drinking a tea that has blood thinning properties. He’s still having some trouble with smiling, his speech is still a little slurred and he’s weaker on the right side of his body. But there has been significant improvement, and I’m hopeful, sir.”

“He’s asleep.”

“Because he’s bored.”

He shoots her a questioning look, and she outright grins at him. “It’s what he said, Colonel. That he was bored being stuck here and he was taking a nap. He said if you came by to wake him up.”

He laughed softly, feeling relieved. “I’ve always envied him his ability to nap like that. He and Jack O’Neill have that in common. Always made the rest of us at the SGC who don’t have that skill set jealous.”

TJ’s expression grows solemn. “Well, before you rouse him, I wanted to talk to you about Chloe. She’s been having blackouts.”

* * *

After agreeing that Chloe should stay with somebody all the time till TJ figures out a reason for her blackouts, Everett releases David from the restraints and shakes him awake with one hand on his shoulder.

David’s always had the ability to jolt back to consciousness and be ready to move instantly and this time is no exception. He snaps a hand around Everett’s wrist, forcing his hand down and away from David’s shoulder. His dark eyes lock with Everett’s and he lets go of Everett’s arm.

Glancing around the room, David’s eyes land on TJ, who is giving them space and privacy for this conversation. He must see that the guards have been sent out of the room, also.

“How are you feeling?” Everett asks, and David sits up, swings his legs off the bed and stands. Stretches.

“Look,” David says, sliding the word out like he’s had one shot of Jack Daniel too many. “You know that wasn’t me, the real me, talking to you in the cell, right?”

Everett waves a hand, implying that all he’d said was already forgotten. It wasn’t, not by a long shot, but there was no point in talking about it now.

“I’m not brainwashed anymore, Everett. God, I can’t believe that bitch put me through it twice.”

Everett crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s what you’d say if you were still brainwashed, David. You know I can’t just take your word for it that you’re free of it.”

David rolls his eyes. “I fucking died, or so I hear. You know that knocks it out of your head.”

“Lieutenant Johanson says you’re improving, that maybe you won’t have any problems at all. Got to say, you’ve had me worried. When she clears you medically, you’re going to sit in the chair. Rush says that Destiny will be able to tell if you’re still under any influence from what the Alliance did to you.”

David makes a noise of disbelief. “Rush? You gotta be kidding me. He’d tell the ship to fry my brain as soon as those electrodes are in my head. C’mon, Everett. You know you can’t trust him about that.”

“Eli and Brody and Park also give you sitting in the chair a thumbs up. And if Rush wanted you dead, he didn’t have to wait for you to be trapped in the chair. He’s the only reason you’re breathing right now, pal.” The look on David’s face is a masterpiece of confusion, denial, and amazement.

“What?”

Everett puts a hand on his shoulder, looks up intently into David’s face. “The ship wouldn’t let air back into your room or unlock the door, until he gave the commands using the master code.” He pauses, and adds, “Yeah, he’s had it figured out for a while now.”

“So his gamble with sitting in the chair payed off,” David says. “Little son-of-a-bitch came through again. I was betting on Eli figuring it out first. I’m gonna owe McKay ten bucks.”

Everett rolled his eyes at that. David and his betting. “Him using it where he did, in the control interface room, meant it wouldn’t be hard to track down how he did it and expose that he knew the master code. And once that happened, his big secret would be revealed. He found Destiny’s bridge. But he did it anyway, he saved you.”

“What? So there is a bridge. I figured there had to be one. Every other Ancient ship has one. But he saved me? Why?” David looks confused, and Everett doesn’t blame him.

“Destiny made it a test about him, if he would help you despite what you’d done to him. Why, he doesn’t know.” He tightens his hold on David’s shoulder. “He thinks the ship wants to learn what makes us tick. Regardless, he saved your ass, and everything he was afraid would happen occurred. You owe him, David.” He lets go of his old friend and stands quietly, waiting for David to take all of that in.

“Rush.” David shakes his head. “Rush, really?”

“Yeah. We both owe him.”

“Crap. He unlocked the cell door, and suffocated the Lucians, didn’t he? God damn!, but he’s something else.” David runs a hand through his short dark hair. He looks a little proud of what Rush had done, and his lips turn up in a small smile.

“You wanted him off the expedition. Was that you or Kiva talking?”

David sits back down on the gurney. “I wanted him off the expedition because Kiva was going to have him snatched when he was back on Earth. They’d been working to get the stargate on that other Icarus type planet up and running, you know. Rush is brilliant, and she wanted him. I’m not sure why he got stalled on figuring out that last bit, where they had to bring Eli in, like a closer in a baseball game.”

He holds out his right arm, grimaces as he practices opening and shutting his hand. “But, honestly, I wouldn’t have picked him for the expedition because he’s such a son-of-a-bitch to get along with. Those complaints you got from the other scientists on Icarus, I encouraged them, sure, but Rush brought it on himself.”

Everett looks David straight in the eyes. “You hit on him, back when he was at the SGC, though. Was that for Kiva, or was that for you?”

“Jesus, Everett.” David laughs ruefully. “Rush actually told you about that?”

“He did. He wasn’t sure what your motive was for the attention you were paying to him, if you wanted to take him to bed or just have him as a supporter, though.” Everett shrugs. He’d known for a long time that David walked both sides of the street when it came to his sex life. “I figured it was for all of the above.”

“Well, you know me, old friend. Was I interested in him?” David looks intrigued, evidently remembering his early interactions with Rush. “I was looking at him, sure. Me. Kiva hadn’t ensnared me at that point.”

David laughs again. “It was fun messing with him; he was kind of adorable in his confusion when I’d bring him coffee from Starbucks.” He shrugs. “He’s attractive and I like smart scientist types, always have. You know that. Back then, he seemed. . . kind of vulnerable, like he needed someone. After he blew up at me, I asked around and Dr. Perry told me he’d just lost his wife. I decided the timing wasn’t good then to go after him; I wasn’t up for dealing with a grieving widower.”

“But you didn’t let it go. You started your campaign to discredit him.” Everett rocked a little on the balls of his feet, feeling ridiculously protective about Rush.

“Not me. Kiva. I was compromised shortly afterwards. I told you she wanted him, and in order to get him, he would have to be kicked out of the program, or it would set off too many alarms when he was snatched. But I don’t trust the guy, and that’s all me.”

David looks tired suddenly, and Everett figures he should let TJ check him out, let him get some more rest. But he’s got to ask this.

“One last thing. Did you make it personal, with Rush? When he was on that table?”

David’s back on his feet and he’s clenching his fists. “What the fuck are you asking me, Everett? You think I did what I did to him because he wouldn’t go out with me for coffee? I had no choice, not if I was going to keep my cover and try to save this crew. I raped him but it wasn’t personal! I could ask you the same god damn question. Did you fuck him for his sake, or for yours?”

“How many times did you have to prove yourself to Kiva? Wasn’t once enough? And what about when you made him come, David. You can’t tell me that was necessary.” Everett ignored David’s own question. He had nothing to prove to him.

“You didn’t know Kiva like I knew her. No, once was not enough, not to prove my loyalty. Making him come? That was because she was losing interest, getting bored with watching Rush get raped.” David steps closer to him, grabs him by his jacket, pulls him close. He leans down so his face is maybe two inches from Everett’s. He says, intently, “If I hadn’t spiced things up for her, she’d have come up with something much worse. I didn’t rape Nick because I was getting back at him; I was trying to save him, save all of you.”

David pushes him away, “God, Everett. I thought you understood that. You looked at me, your dick shoved up his ass, mine shoved down his throat, and we were two desperate men, doing what needed to be done. It wasn’t something anybody could do, but I did what I had to do for the fucking greater good. And you know what? Rush would have understood that. If the poor bastard had been capable of understanding anything at that point.”

“You owe him.”

David scrubs his hands over his face. “I know.” His expression becomes resigned. “And he’ll want to cash it in, I’m sure. Probably I’ll have to get the IOA off his case.”

“He belongs on this ship, David.” He says it like he believes it. And he does, he realizes, he does believe it and he promises himself, promises Rush, that he’ll do everything in his power to keep the man on Destiny.

“You can’t trust him, Everett.” David says that like he pities Everett. Like he just saw that silent promise play out across Everett’s face. “He may want to stay here, but he’s got no right to hold the rest of this crew hostage.”

“He’s not. There’s no viable way to get home.”

“And when we do find a way, he’ll do his best to hide it, or to sabotage it. You wait, Everett. I’ll be proved right.”

“Okay.” He takes a moment to center himself. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. TJ’s going to assess you again. If she says you’re well enough, you’ll be taken to your quarters and locked in. Then when she’s sure you’ve recovered, and hell, David, you look so much better than I was expecting, we’ll use the chair and confirm that you’re yourself again.”

“Sure.” David says it carelessly, like he’s just agreed to let Everett borrow a pair of socks. “Hey, Everett? Let’s go drinking when all of this is over.”

He draws Everett in for a quick, hard hug, before sitting on the gurney again. He slaps David on the back. He hopes to God this is really David again, and that he’s not just sentenced his friend to death by Destiny’s neural interface chair.

* * *

Everett talks to TJ and gives orders for the two guards who he sent out into the corridor to resume guard duty.

His stomach growls, and he’s reminded that he said he’d pick up Rush’s dinner.

Rush will probably refuse to eat with him, if he does, he’ll still leave his dinner in his quarters. He hopes Becker has come up with something decent for tonight, and not just another variation of the mush.

Still, there’s, oh, maybe a ten percent chance that Rush will agree to eat with him, in the spirit of once again moving forward. For the sake of the crew, of course.

Ducking into a side corridor, he brings his radio to his lips, and when Greer answers, asks him to hand the radio to Rush.

“Rush here.”

He asks Rush if he’d still like to eat with him, maybe at the observation deck instead of Everett’s quarters, before Rush starts instructing the Science Team about the bridge. Greer can join them, if that makes a difference.

He cringes a little, knowing he sounded awkward as hell about this invitation. He half hopes Rush will turn him down.

There’s silence on the other end, and Everett waits for Rush’s decision.

* * *

Chapter 18

“Doc,” Greer yells, jarring him from the contemplations he’s been engaged in after giving Young an answer to his invitation to eat with him. He’s still sitting on a bench and he shivers, and yes, it’s colder in this section of the ship, where he’d discovered the manufactory and the corridors of unexplored rooms. Yes, he’s cold, that’s the only reason he’s experiencing these chills. Lying to yourself this time, are you, Nick? a more honest part of himself pipes up. He banishes those thoughts. He’s just cold. He’s not experiencing any emotional blowback about the last few hours. He’s just not.

He looks over to where Greer and the team the man has assembled are methodically exploring this new section of the ship he’d uncovered. He’d been assisting them until the Colonel had radioed him, then he’d trotted back to the nexus where the corridors met for privacy.

Young had surprised him by re-issuing his earlier invitation, given before Eli had unearthed the bridge and exposed that one Nicholas Rush had known about it for quite some time and had not informed the leader of this ragtag expedition or the colleagues he worked with daily.

Actually, he’s still surprised he’s not locked away or laid out in the infirmary. He pictures again the way the Colonel had backed him into the corridor wall, how he had clenched his fists. At the time he was sure Young was going to attack him and the ugly, awful fear that he’d be raped again had spurred him to escape.

Now, in retrospect, he thinks the Colonel was doing his best not to hit him. Maybe, if Rush could have extended what trust he did have in the man, if he hadn’t bloody panicked and ran they could have talked instead of ending up fighting and rolling on the floor first.

So he’s aware that Young could have hurt him a great deal, rather than just putting him out to subdue him. Still it’s hard to feel grateful for that or for the transition from terror upon waking up over Young’s shoulder to annoyance once he understood Young wasn’t taking him somewhere to rip off his clothes and fuck him. Being carried and jostled like that was humiliating. He supposes it could have been worse. Greer and Lieutenant Johansen could have witnessed him being carted around like an unwieldy sack of goods. Or he could have been sick, although it would have served Young right if he had vomited down his back.

“Doc, I ain’t got all day,” Greer yells to him. “You said you wanted to be there when we opened that one room and it’s the last one we’re doing for tonight. My guys need to get to the mess before Becker closes it down.”

“Aye, I’m coming,” he says, projecting his voice and getting up. In a morbid way, he’s curious to know if his gamble to hide in that room would have given him temporary refuge or caused his death when he was sucked out of Destiny and vaporized against the shields.

* * *

Young opens the door, gives him a slight smile when he sees the chessboard tucked under Rush’s arm. “Come in,” he says and ushers him inside the room. Rush gives a quick glance around the place. The bed is made, the room neat and tidy. Young’s comb and shaving kit are perfectly straight on the counter under the small mirror.

There is no smell of alcohol on the Colonel, and that’s a good sign, he thinks.

“We should eat first,” Young says, breaking the awkward silence that’s fallen between them. “Becker’s found some insulated containers, so dinner will still be hot.”

Rush shrugs. “Hot mush isn’t much better than cold mush, if that’s what you’ve brought.” He’s finding he doesn’t much care what it is, despite having wished for something more appetizing earlier today.

Young says, a little too gently for Rush’s taste, “It’s not the protein sludge. You’ve got to be mighty tired of it by now.”

Rush gives him a narrowed look, feeling suspicious that someone, namely Mr. Adam Brody, has told Young Rush won’t eat in the Mess and that Rush has relied on the man’s charity for food since the Alliance was defeated.

Young shoots him a complicated glance back, and a diffident smile. “It’s a kind of stew, I’ve been told. Meat and vegetables from the planet we picked those exploding fruits. Tea, and even some kind of pudding desert. I ran into Greer eating in the mess with Lisa, and the rest of the Science Team. We’d better get started before your team starts pounding on the door for you to show them the bridge’s systems.”

He’d hadn’t asked Greer to join him and Young. This was uncomfortable enough with just the two of them, he didn’t need to feel Greer’s sharp eyes on him, wondering if Rush was going to have a panic attack or break down again into a crying fit.

“Thank you,” Rush says, not making eye contact, “For inviting me over.” He sits down on the couch and lays the chessboard and the bag with the pieces on the coffee table. Young brings over their food, sitting opposite him on the other couch.

He still can’t make eye contact with the blasted man. It’s not that he’s scared to be here, not exactly. In his head, he knows the Colonel won’t attack him. There’s nothing left for the man to find out about and shout at him. Not anything that Rush can think of, at any rate. He doubts Young is going to bring up past grievances, not tonight, not when he’s so obviously extending the olive branch. Still, his body is tense, his body wants him to up and leave here, to hole away somewhere safe.

He’s not going to listen to his body, to his quivering nerves, to his flight reflex. Young has saved him before and that’s a powerful antidote to his current nervousness. They’d had several emotionally draining experiences today, together, and now Young is making this overture to him.

He’s not inclined to waste it, to throw it back in the man’s face. Maybe he’s tired of being at odds with Young. Maybe they can learn to work together as nicely as they did on the planet, picking fruit as a team. Maybe. Maybe not, but he’ll give it a go.

Clearing his throat, he says, “We’d best get started on our dinner, then. I suggest we play speed chess when we’re finished, Colonel. Say, no more than thirty seconds to make a move?

* * *

“Checkmate,” Young says, and leans back on the couch, meeting Rush’s eyes, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Bollocks,” Rush mutters. Young is a much, much better chess player than he’d imagined.

Young’s smirk gives way to a laugh. “Come back tomorrow for dinner and a rematch, see if tonight was just a fluke.”

Rush stills from dumping the queen back into his bag. “Colonel,” he says, and he knows Young hears the tired tone as well as he himself does. “What are ye doin’?”

“Looking to kick your ass at chess again,” Young says, but his tone doesn’t match his words. It’s gentle again, and Rush wants to drop his head into his hands. Fuck, he thinks. Fuck. Absolutely Young has talked to Brody and this invitation wasn’t a tentative outreach on both their sides to improve their professional relationship, and possibly build a friendship; no, this is Young taking care of him, making sure he had a decent dinner since Rush is too weak to fucking go into the mess and get it for himself.

Aye, that annoying git of a inner voice pipes up. Aye, he’s taking over for Brody. Because you need a caretaker so you don’t starve to death. Face it, Nicky. You’re pitiful.”

“Brody ask you to do this?” He goes back to scooping up pawns and bishops and knights, letting them drop one by one into the bag he’d had sewn from discarded rags. “He tired of seeing to it that I don’t starve?”

“No.” Young reaches over and stills his hand. “He doesn’t mind helping you out. I’m offering, Nick. The way I see it, we eat dinner together, play chess, maybe talk about ship’s business. Get to know each other better.”

“Why do you even want to bother?” He feels Young’s hand wrap around his own.

When Young answers him, there’s no trace of condescension, when he looks up at Young’s expression, his eyes, he sees only sincerity. Rush stares at their joined hands and Young abruptly lets him go.

“I want what we could have, Doctor Rush. What we should have, what the SGC leadership has had. What O’Neill has with Jackson, what Shepard has with McKay. The military and scientific leadership working hand in hand. I mean, think about where Jackson came from and where O’Neill did, but that first mission they had, when they blew away Ra, it pulled them together.”

Rush reaches back over his shoulder and massages the muscles that have tightened there. “We’ve just gotten further apart since the day we met. You’ve distrusted me since Icarus, Colonel. And I’ve given you reason. I’ve provoked you, and not shared information. I’m no a team player, and the fights we’ve had. . . I’ve flat out told you to your face that I didn’t think ye were the man for the job. I’ve a hard time trusting you, Colonel.”

He sees Young’s face growing more stoic, and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t, so he keeps on talking, although it’s fucking hard to say these words. But Young, he deserves to hear them, because Rush owes him. And tonight, after they got over being so awkward, it was nice. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to come back to play chess and share a meal again.

This time he’s the one to touch Young’s wrist. He bites his lip and says, “Although, I’m trying. With trusting you. You helped me, after Kiva was through making me an example for the rest of our lot. That meant. . . He feels his voice falter, but makes himself go on. “It meant a lot to me. It still does. If I hadn’t panicked and shoved you aside and ran earlier today, I don’t think you would have beat me if I’d stayed put against that wall. And . . .” He swallows hard, remembering Greer securing him on a line before opening the door he’d earlier frantically had tried to enter, when he’d run from Young. “I’d have been sucked out into space if you hadn’t stopped me from goin’ into that room today, Half the outer wall was gone.”

Young inhales sharply, then closes his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Rush.”

Rush gently touches the reddened, sore places under his eye that he knows will be showing black bruises by tomorrow. A small price to pay for his life, which he owes to this man. “So I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry for a lot of things.”

“Yeah, me too. I shouldn’t have pushed you into the wall, I shouldn’t have spooked you so hard that you were willing to chance open space rather than me.” Young says, shaking his head.

Rush swallows. “Aye, we both made poor decisions today. But, I know there’s something about me that gets under your skin, Colonel. I make you angrier, I know I do. ” He sighs before adding, “Maybe it’s because I’m such a bastard.”

“You’re not a bastard, well, not all the time. You are a lot -- no scratch that.” Young’s eyes meet his, looking rueful, looking puzzled. “I don’t know why, but things that go wrong between us do seem more personal to me.”

Rush pushes a hand through his hair, noting how much longer the strands had become. He’s not inclined to cut it, though, partly to spite Kiva’s preference for the shorter, neater look of it. Kiva’s ghost has no say in any of his decisions, he thinks defiantly. He can’t help but think that thought was a bloody lie, not when he can’t even walk down the corridor to the Mess.

He looks down at the floor, feeling tired enough to just lay down on the thing. If he tried, he knew Young would insist that he rest on the bed, even if it meant Young himself was exiled to the cold metal flooring, or uncomfortably hanging off the small couch. Still looking downward he asks, “Are you sure we can make this happen, this partnership? After the fights and arguments we’ve had?”

Young takes his hand again, and startled, he raises his eyes to Young’s brown ones. It’s odd, what Young is doing, not a handshake, but a physical connection of a sort and he decides to just let Young keep hold of him. Maybe he’s afraid Rush will up and leave and he wants to make sure he’ll stay and listen.

“I think we can pull it off, Nick. It’s not like Jackson and O’Neill haven’t had their fights or McKay and John Shepard.”

“Oh, I’ve heard,” he says.

“Sure, they had their arguments but they only served to make their partnership stronger. We can get past, well, our past. You framing me for murder, me beating you unconscious and leaving you to die. I’ve mistrusted you when it wasn’t warranted. Eli set me straight on some of that tonight.” Young tightens his fingers around Rush’s, looks at him, and it’s almost a pleading look, and he can feel the man’s sincerity. Young says, in an urgent tone, “Let’s move forward, okay? You and me, I want us to trust each other, to have each other’s backs, so we can work together for the good of the people on this ship.”

“For the good of the crew, is it? That’s it, then? We’ve had that conversation before, Colonel. Had some trouble, though, didn’t we, with it.” A bitter, tired laugh escapes him. “The theoretical model didn’t hold up during the experimental phase.” He carefully pulls his hand free, feeling a roil of conflicting feelings. Gloria, she had trusted him, loved him, and in the end he’d failed her. What Young is asking for, he’ll likely fail him, too.

“Rush,” Young says, when the silence has grown between them and he scrubs his hands through his messy hair again, debating with himself what to do.

Thinking over what Young said earlier, he mutters defensively, “Well, I’m no Jackson, and how Colonel Shepard and McKay manage together has been frankly mystifying-” Young interrupts him.

“Yeah, you’re you and I’m me. We’re not the dream teams, okay? I’m still saying that we can build something together, something good. I need you with me, Rush.”

He sighs heavily, feeling tired, feeling like such a fucking failure. Him, unable to even walk into the mess. “Why me? Why not throw in with Colonel Telford for my removal, hell, why not just make Park or Eli your lead scientist? They’re capable. What is it you’re always saying about me, Colonel Young? I’m a lot of trouble?”

“It’s ‘You’re a lot of work.’ Yeah, I’ve said it before.” Young smiles at him. “Hell, I’m saying it right now. But I’m also saying you’re worth it. I don’t want Eli or Lisa and it’ll be over my dead carcass that the IOA body swaps some other scientist for you.”

Rush blinks at the vehemence in Young’s voice.

“And it’s not just for the good of the crew. I’d like us to be friends. Think about it, will you, about having dinner with me again tomorrow. It’s a start, and we can go slow.”

Rush raises his eyebrows and Young chuckles. “Yeah, okay, that did sound like I was asking you to date me. But you know what I mean, don’t you?”

Shrugging, Rush says, “Aye. I’d better be off. Lieutenant Scott’s orders won’t keep my lot from playing with Destiny’s systems much longer, and we’re liable to find ourselves dropping out of hyperspace in the middle of nowhere.”

“Oh, so that’s why. . .” Young looks like he’s suddenly consulting a mental list of odd goings on that happened in the past few weeks.

“Yes. And if I made mistakes like that, imagine what Volker could do.”

Young shoots him a measured look. “Two hours, and then put the ship back on automatic and get some rest.”

“Two hours will only whet their appetite.” He’ll have barely covered anything in that amount of time; he’s reminded suddenly of teaching at Berkely and classes of grad students.

“Two hours. I’ll be by to check on you.”

“What about that trust you were so keen on us developing?” he couldn’t help saying, although truthfully he feels exhausted and is fine with the two hour deadline.

Young just grins at him and stands up. “There’s trust, and then there’s common sense. Two hours, Doctor Rush.”

He ushers Rush out the door. It was only when the door closes and Rush starts jogging down the hall that he realizes he’s left his chess set with the Colonel. Maybe he will come back for another game tomorrow night. He’ll decide later, after he’d introduced the Science Team properly to the bridge.

* * *

There’s both scowls and smiles to greet him when he joins the group waiting at the bridge’s door. Chloe is one of the ones smiling at him, and before he can ask why’s she’s there she’s telling him she wants to learn the systems also, along with Matt and Greer and Vanessa and Barnes. He stops her pitch halfway into her well thought out reasoning. Yes, of course they’ll need to be able to have enough people to cover shifts and the scientists will be needed on other projects or to be fixing problems.

“Fine,’ he says. Then remembering Young’s bullying him into teaching Ancient, he adds, “and you lot who aren’t proficient in Ancient by this point will have to attend the classes I’m giving. That will be you four.” He points to Lieutenant Scott, Lieutenant James, Greer and Barnes. Scott has picked up a bit, mostly on his own, but not enough to trust him to understand the bridge systems.

Volker is frowning at him and for a welcome change of pace he’s not blushing and looking away. His annoyance at being shut out must be keeping him from thinking of how Rush had been raped over and over again. Rush almost smiles at him; having the man be ticked off with him was much more preferable.

He sighs, and says, “We have two hours before Colonel Young will be by to close up shop, so no questions right now. I’ll be speaking and you’ll be listening. Take notes, and I’ll answer questions tomorrow. Be here at seven, then. Eli,” he calls out. “Since you were the one to figure out what I’d done, you can have the honor of putting in the master code.”

“Some honor,” Eli mutters as he moves to the door control. “Welcome to the bridge,” he says to Chloe and Greer and Barnes as the doors glide open and the lights on Destiny’s bridge brighten, smiling at the looks on their faces. “And yeah, it is really, really cool.”

* * *

It’s three days later from that first lesson about the Bridge that Lieutenant Johanson declares Colonel Telford is cleared to sit in the Neural Interface Chair. Tomorrow they will make the attempt.

Rush has been working nonstop to keep the bridge crews from making serious mistakes, but they’re learning. Neither Destiny or Jeremy Franklin has deigned to make an appearance to the crew, despite Eli’s numerous invitations both through the consoles or spoken into thin air. Volker and Brody are skeptical about Franklin’s having transferred his consciousness into the ship, and Rush wishes the man would appear to them so they will stop looking askance at him whenever he passes along knowledge Franklin has shared with him about the systems.

He’s got problems, mental and emotional, he bloody well knows he does, but he’s not hallucinated the AI or Franklin and frankly it’s irritating him a considerable amount when his sanity gets questioned. Oh, Park is the most considerate, gently telling him that maybe he imagined Gloria and Franklin were there because of the horrible things that were happening to him with the Alliance; Brody gives him a deadpan stare that clearly shows his disbelief and Volker actually twirled his fingers near his temple when he thought Rush wasn’t looking, communicating to Brody his opinion that Rush was crazy for believing he’d talked with the ship in the form of his dead wife and with Franklin, who’d joined his mind with the ship’s systems.

At least Young believes him. Perhaps it’s because he’s been with Stargate Command a long time and has seen his own share of unbelievable things for himself.

He and Young are, well, they’re at least trying with each other. Rush has eaten dinner with the man and played chess with him nightly. Brody still brings him a bowl of mush in the morning, which is fine, but it has been more enjoyable to have some variety for his evening meal.

Rush is keeping score, and Young has beaten him three to one with their chess games. Once in bed, he finds himself thinking about strategies so he can reverse that trend and less about the torture and rapes he’d endured.

It’s a good thing, and he’s beginning to feel a little hopeful that maybe he will be able to reclaim his life. All areas of his life. He tries again to go to the Mess on his own, but once again that’s a disaster. Still, he’s sleeping better and he will someday walk back into the Mess and sit down at a table and proceed to ignore the carrying on of his shipmates. It’ll be normal again and he longs for that day. One day, he might even enjoy some physical contact, something that he hasn’t had since Gloria was alive.

After the rapes, and the threat of being the Lucian’s play thing again, he didn’t think he’d ever want or could engage in any form of sex willingly. But the thought has been in his mind lately that this, too, was taken from him by Kiva and he hates the thought that in this she will have won.

It burns in him, this desire to yank back from Kiva everything she took from him. Everything. So while he’s not eyeing anyone in particular, he would like to be able to chose to have comfort with a willing partner.

Trouble is, he doesn’t think he would be able to go through with it. He’s been conditioned by Kiva’s rape tactics, and he hates that with everything within him. Just like he can only go so far down the corridor to the Mess before a panic attack hits him, he’s afraid that a touch to his nipples, his belly, his penis, will bring a surge of horrible memories back, from Simeon’s dick fucking his mouth in the storeroom to being strapped back on the table, lines of men and women waiting to torment him, and he will fail.

One more failure to add to the long list.

* * *

“Checkmate,” he says to Young, and starts to beam a triumphant look at the man, when he stops his hand mid-motion from grabbing Young’s King and replacing it with his Queen. Young is looking at him with a soft look, looking pleased, and he bloody well shouldn’t be looking happy to have lost.

He let you win, the voice inside him sneers, delighted to be stirring up trouble again. He let you win because he feels sorry for you, he’s indulging you, because you’re weak and pathetic and need to be cossetted. He only trounced you those first few times to get you to play him for revenge. He’ll probably pat you on the head next, you loser.

Suddenly he’s boiling over with rage and he takes his Queen and hurls the piece across Young’s room, dashing it against the wall.

Young loses his gentle expression and snaps out a hand to capture Rush’s wrist before he can start throwing the rest of the chess pieces.

“Stop,” he commands. “Just stop and tell me what’s wrong.”

Rush shoots to his feet, upsetting the chess board and tries to yank his hand free. Young, too, stood up and has Rush’s other wrist firmly in his grip.

“Rush,” he says, “Nick. Calm down.” His voice is decisive, and he’s eyeing Rush like he’s handling dynamite. “Whatever just set you off, we can talk about it.” His strong fingers loose their steady clasp around his own shaking hands. “I’m letting you go now.”

Rush realizes his entire body is shaking, and he wishes the Colonel had blown up at him, that he could have expelled this adrenaline that’s wracking him by shouting back and striding away.

“You,” he says, anger rising again from where it had lulled, “you let me win that game. Admit it, Colonel, you felt sorry for me and decided to boost my ego or whatever by throwing the match. I’m no for having any of that, I’ll tell you that much!”

Young stares at him, and then shakes his head emphatically. “I don’t know where the hell you got that idea, but you won fair and square.”

Rush just glares at him, but a small part of himself is wondering if the Colonel is telling him the truth.

“C’mon, what made you think that?” Young looks bewildered, before dropping to the deck and picking up the scattered pieces and stowing them away.

Rush watches him and debates just striding out of the room, but in the end crosses his arms around his chest and says, “You were smiling. You were happy that I beat you.”

Young maneuvers up from the floor to the couch, sets the bag of chess pieces on the board, straightening it from where it had skewed sideways and looks up at Rush. He drapes his hands between his legs, and sits there. His expression looks a bit labored and once Rush would have been disdainful of that look, but he’s learned the hard way that Young’s patient exploration of options and thoughts doesn’t mean the man’s unintelligent.

“I was thinking that it was nice that you were having fun. You’re doing better, Nick. I’d been thinking of how things were with you when the Lucians tossed you in the cell with the rest of us military. I was thinking that you never could have sat and talked and played this way with me back then. But,” and his tone becomes serious, “I give you my word of honor as an officer that I didn’t throw this game. I did play to win.” He gives Rush a speculative look. “I think you’re just learning my style. Admit it, you were surprised when I beat you that first time.”

Rush shrugs. He’s underestimated the Colonel in quite a few ways, he’s come to realize. He sits back down and sighs, feeling foolish. He’s feeling jittery as the aftermath of the adrenaline rush leaves agitation in its wake, and that’s not lost on Young, judging by his expression.

“If you want to be able to sleep tonight, better find a way to use up that angry energy. Go for a run or something.” He looks over to where the Queen chess piece has landed. “You throw things when you’re frustrated, upset. You need a ball to bounce against a wall.”

“Rocks,” Rush says, remembering how he’d throw them as hard as he could if he was anywhere other than the middle of city. His walks with Gloria had often included stops at a pond or a lake where he’d indulge in taking out his frustrations with University employment by hurling fist sized chunks. When he’d calmed down, he’d skip flat stones across the surface of the water, explaining the physics of what he was doing to Gloria. Talking came easier to him afterwards.

“I heard you would go outside the base at Icarus and down to the desert sometimes, and throw rocks,” Young comments.

“Aye. Although your men never let me go too far.”

“Called you a hobbit, I believe. Because you were good at hitting what you aimed for.”

Rush stares, affronted, at Young, who struggles not to laugh. It makes his eyes crinkle, his lips twitch as he tries not to smile.

“You’re more of a hobbit than I am, Colonel. You’ve got the hair for it,” he grumbles.

“You’re shorter.”

Rush rolls his eyes. “And you’re not that much taller, Colonel. Short describes you, too.”

Young loses his battle and Rush finds himself reluctantly smiling, swept by Young’s mirth into sharing amusement.

Why, he wonders, do hobbits keep coming up in reference to himself. Eli had done the same thing, comparing him to the hobbit who’d carried the ring. He’d never seen the movies or read the books, but it was impossible not to have learned something of the story over the years. Still, while he well believes Eli would and will utter nonsense comparing Rush to Tolkien’s little people, he’s surprised Young has done the same.

Shaking his head, he says, once Young calms down from his laughing fit. “I think I will go for a run.” He hesitates, then adds, “You’re welcome to come along.”

He doesn’t miss the way Young’s glance shoots to the bottle of Brody’s moonshine on the ledge. He thought it likely that after leaving the last several days, when things were quiet, that Young indulged himself quite a bit with drinking before stumbling, drunk, to his bed. A quiet word with Brody had revealed Young frequently replenished his supply.

Holding his breath, he waits to hear Young’s answer, and feels a surprising sensation of satisfaction and contentment flood him when the man agrees.

* * *

Colonel Telford gives him a sardonic look when Young and Greer and Scott escort the man into the Chair room. Brody, Eli, Volker and Park have been waiting at the monitors, Brody ready to start the program for the laptop they’d adapted the chair to interface with, the rest at various stations to monitor the ship’s systems. Lieutenant Johanson is checking her medical supplies, a stethoscope round her neck.

Telford starts to walk over to where Rush is standing, but a quiet word in his ear from Colonel Young stops him. “Rush,” Telford says, his voice loud enough for all of them to hear. “I hear I owe you one.”

Keeping his expression calm, Rush gives a casual wave of his hand, wondering why Telford admitted that. It’s true, of course, but he didn’t expect David Telford to acknowledge he’s indebted to his nemesis on board Destiny.

Young looks to him, gives a subtle nod, and Rush nods back. Young has turned control of this procedure over to him.

He gives orders and soon Colonel Telford is sedated and restrained in the chair. “Mr. Brody,” he says quietly, standing next to him. “You may begin.”

* * *

“How much longer?” asks Colonel Young, crowding Rush a little in his attempt to see the lines of information sweeping down the laptop screen.

“Not long now,” he answers and absentmindedly nudges Young as he reclaims his space. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Brody glancing over at Volker and Park, and involuntarily he looks at his team, too, puzzled by the looks on their faces. They look interested, speculative, and Park outright smiles at him when she catches him looking at her. She inclines her head and he realizes she’s indicating the Colonel. Abruptly, he gets it. There is no personal space whatsoever between the two of them, not with the Colonel practically glued to his side, and he’s not having a panic attack about it.

He shrugs at her and goes back to checking his work. Better to have the Colonel next to him and quiet than pacing the room and demanding updates by yelling about it.

That quiet attentiveness on both of their parts and the rest of the team and military onlookers is destroyed when there is a loud explosion that rocks the ship, people pitch to the floor and only the Colonel’s hard grip around both him and the chair keep him from falling. He and Brody both make a grab for the laptop but it falls to the floor with a crash and goes black. Brody curses and stoops to retrieve it. If the laptop has been too damaged, the data from charting Colonel Telford’s scan will be lost. They’ve got backups of the program, yes, but not the data that’s been streaming from Destiny for the last hour. Not that they can access, at any rate, if Destiny’s computer isn’t functional.

If they pull Telford out right now, they could brain damage him.

“Ships’ systems are going down!” Eli shouts. “It’s, oh, crap, we’ve lost the number twelve engine.” He shoots a bewildered look toward Young and Rush. “It wasn’t a malfunction! Somebody blew the sucker up!”

* * *

Chapter 19: Spiraling Down

“You got this?” Everett asks Rush, his eyes flicking down to where David is trapped in the chair. He doesn’t trust it, he doesn’t trust that humans can use Ancient technology like this without consequence.

“Aye.”

He’s not sure he trusts Rush with the allure of that technology. He hasn’t in the past. And that’s David, whom he has known for a long time, fought with, almost hated at times, and loved him as a friend at others. He’s trusting Rush to save him.

Sometimes a leap of faith is needed, and really, he’d already made that leap when he let Rush engineer this sweep through David’s brain to see if he is freed of Kiva’s brainwashing.

Rush takes the laptop that had crashed to the floor from Brody and tells the man to go down and see about their blown engine, tells Eli to work with Volker about getting kinos outside the ship to map out the damage and sweep the hull, and for Park to stay right where she is, monitoring systems for him.

He interrupts Rush. “We’ve either got a traitor on board or intruders.”

Rush looks at him with irritated eyes. “I’m aware. That’s why I’m sending kinos out to look on the hull for unwanted guests.”

Everett tells Greer to get a detail together and go with Brody, and for Scott to organize with James and set up sweeps through the ship, centering on the areas where someone could have gotten access to the engines. He halts Eli and Volker and tells them to wait for him to escort them to the kino room that Eli has claimed for his personal quarters, and then to the Bridge.

Moving away from Rush to a monitor, he makes a shipwide announcement that all civilians not needed for critical systems are to go to their rooms and lock themselves inside. All military are to proceed to battle stations and await orders for searching for intruders or a saboteur.

He knows that T.J. radioed to check on Carmen right after picking herself up from the floor from the jolt they’d all had from the explosion and dropping out of FTL. Now she’s at David’s side, sliding a blood pressure cuff around his arm.

“The baby okay?” he asks her, and their eyes meet briefly as she nods. “Sir, I’d like Becker down here to monitor the Colonel; I’ll be in the Infirmary in case of injuries. Carmen,” and her mouth tightens, “is with Dr. Inman.”

He expects that T.J. is seeing on his face what he sees on hers, and his grandmother’s words swim up out of memory. ”You don’t know what fear is,” she used to tell family members, “till you have a child of your own.”

“Scott,” he says, and the young man pauses giving orders to James over the radio. “I’ll get Ginn and detain her. And give Rush your handgun.” Scott nods, and walks over to Rush while resuming his strategy session with James. Eli starts vehemently protesting Ginn’s innocence, and Rush glares at him.

“I know, Eli. Now shut it, you’ve a job to do and no harm’s gonna come to the lass.” Then Rush turns that glare onto him.

“It’s not her, Colonel.” Rush accepts the gun given to him and checks the safety before tucking it into the back of his jeans. “She’s no got anything to gain by such actions. She was glad to shed the Alliance.”

“I know all that.” Young says mildly. “Regardless, she’s Lucian Alliance, the only one on board, and Homeworld Command is going to demand that she be looked at for this. She is assigned to the Bridge today, isn’t she?”

“Yes.” Rush says, and curses, glaring at the laptop as if it were his born enemy. “Before you take the lass to a makeshift brig, have her find a replacement laptop and send it and the flashdrive with the backup program down here, fast as you can. I’m not sure what’s happening to Telford, but my guess is that his mind has been placed in a state of limbo while we fumble around to restart the program.”

Wonderful, he thinks and looks at T.J.

“He’s stable, vitals are within normal limits,” she says, and uses a penlight to check David’s pupils. She turns to Park, “Check him every five minutes, sooner if it looks like he’s in distress, until Becker gets here. Call me with updates or if he begins to have problems.” She swiftly hands Park her medical apparatus and checks her own gun before nodding to Young and opening the door. She and Scott leave together, and Young checks his own weapon, before motioning to Eli and Volker to accompany him.

Park tells Rush that life support has come back up, but that long range and short range sensors are still down. Everett thinks of the Nakai and cold fear sits like a stone in his gut.

Lock yourselves in,” he orders Park. “I’ll be on the Bridge,” he tells Rush and receives a nod back, the man’s scowling attention focused on the broken laptop.

 

* * *

Ginn looks at him with wide eyes, but doesn’t try to run away when he steps down into the Bridge. He had to get rough with Eli to keep him from flying in here intent on defending his girl. The kid doesn’t need the distraction from flying multiple kinos with Volker, both to see the damaged engine and checking to see if there’s a ship attached to them, like a lamprey to a fish, pouring aliens into Destiny. Eli had given Ginn a helpless look, then he and Volker took one of the side stations to monitor the kinos they’d released out the shuttle bay on the way to the Bridge.

He wishes the shuttle was still with them, it would have made checking the outside damage much easier. They might need someone to don a space suit and physically take a look, but not till he’s satisfied the ship is secure.

Ginn tips her chin up at him when he comes close, but stands her ground. “I know you have to consider me as the one who did this, Colonel,” she says. “But I didn’t damage Destiny. I’ve been here during this shift, the entire time, and the explosion was ordered from an engineering station near the engines.”

“Could someone have rigged it for a delayed reaction?”

Her shoulders slump a little before she straightens them and looks him in the eyes. “Yes, Colonel. There’s a possibility of that. Doctor Rush could find out, none of the rest of us know the systems as well as he does.”

She’s a survivor, this girl, this girl who looks like she should be a college student and her biggest worries finals week; she raped Rush for Kiva, but that was to keep the Alliance from turning on her like hyenas attacking a vulnerable packmate. “Are you willing to sit in the chair and let Destiny see if you’re brainwashed?” It’s the only scenario that he can fathom, that she is secretly programmed by Kiva to sabotage them.

“If Doctor Rush is in charge of the Neural Interface Chair, then yes. I’m willing.” Her eyes are determined, fearful, her lip trembles, but she makes good eye contact with him. He doesn’t think she’s lying to him about any of this.

“You’d put your life in his hands?”

“Yes. Despite what I did, he forgave me. I trust him, Colonel Young. I trust you, also. If you need to prove to Homeworld Command that I’m not a traitor, I will comply with what you ask of me.”

“All right. For now, you’ll be locked in your room. Before that happens, Rush needs you to find some things for him.”

He sits down heavily in the command chair after the laptop and flashdrive are sent to Rush and Ginn has been restrained and marched off to her room.

They need more bridge personnel, that’s clear. He resists the urge to radio Rush. Rush has communicated over their chess games just how irritating he finds Young’s “hovering.”

His military people check in with him in fifteen minutes segments, and Brody and Greer also report in. Eli regularly sends a schematic of Destiny to him updated with the areas he and Volker have cleared.

The number twelve engine is extremely damaged, according to Brody’s readings and the visuals the kino has sent back. He doesn’t know what it’s going to take to fix it. Until they do, though, they’re just going to be hanging in space, helpless.

The first clue as to who did this comes to light when Camile is found unconscious, arm broken, hidden in a supply room.

James and her team found her, and James sounds guilty as hell when she reports that Camile had been with Chloe after they’d both returned from using the stones. James had been on stones duty at the time.

“Sir, Camile came back first and I wiped her stone and replaced it, but when Chloe returned, she had one of her blackouts as soon as she blinked her eyes and I. Sir, I dropped her stone on the table and it fell to the floor and I forgot I hadn’t wiped it when I picked it up and replaced it in the case. I checked the kino footage for the stones room before I radioed you and confirmed what I did. The stone’s wiped now. I don’t know if it means anything or not, but none of the teams have seen Chloe and she’s not in her room. I’m, I’m reporting myself for dereliction of duty, sir.”

He runs a hand through his hair, James is a good officer, but she places a lot of weight on his good opinion of her and right now he doesn’t have time for hand holding. It was a mistake, one he’s sure she’ll never do again, but she’s right. She was careless, and in space, careless will get you killed.

“We’ll discuss it later, Lieutenant. Find Chloe. Either someone else hurt Camile and took Chloe, alien or human, or Chloe hurt Camile and damaged the engines. Over.”

He’s been suspicious about her blackouts since they started, that’s why she’s been paired with someone else when she wasn’t in her quarters with Matt.

He thinks of Sergeant Spencer and realizes there’s also the possibility that one of the crew has become deranged, maybe suicidal or homicidal and this is their way of getting revenge or killing themselves or the rest of them or maybe just one person that they’ve fixated on.

T.J. is responsible for the crew’s mental health. He lifts the radio to his lips to check in with her, when Scott’s voice interrupts him.

“Sir, We’ve found Chloe. She had another blackout and said she came back to herself a few minutes ago looking at ship’s systems at an engineering station on deck ten. But, sir, she said she didn’t feel like she’d lost consciousness and time, like her earlier blackouts; she said it was more like she was locked in somewhere dark, and she couldn’t move. Like she was restrained.”

“Take her to the infirmary, and Matt – she’s to be kept under guard. Keep on searching for intruders or anyone who’s acting suspicious.”

“Yes, sir.”

He waits, feeling the heaviness of command on his shoulders, until T.J. radios him that Camile has regained consciousness.

Chloe had stopped walking and attacked her; before Camile blacked out, she saw Chloe moving like she was just figuring out how to use her body, never saying a word, her eyes blank. Chloe had no idea what she’d done while in this state, but had been horrified to learn that she had hurt Camile.

When the teams and the kinos report no sight of intruders, Young orders the crew to return to stations, the science team to get new orders from Rush and drops his head into his curled hands, thinking about ancient history and unsuspecting cities taken down by subterfuge.

* * *

The sound of a soft, Scottish accented voice reclaims his wandering attention and Young straightens up in the command chair.

“Go ahead, Rush.” They’ve had to start over with David’s scans, and it’s been almost an hour since they began again. He hates the thought of how long David’s had to be subjected to sitting in that damn chair.

“Colonel Telford’s results will be available in a few minutes. Do you want to be here when Lieutenant Johanson wakes him up?”

“On my way. And we need to talk, Doctor Rush.”

“Aye. I think I know why Chloe did what she did. And I’ve a request to make about fixing the FTL drive. Rush out.”

Eli and Volker are not done yet with checking the hull for any intruders, but so far they’ve found nothing. Camile, despite her broken arm and concussion, has questioned Ginn and reported her opinion that the girl was innocent of sabotaging the ship. T.J. has given Chloe her green sleeping brew, letting her relax into sleep while running every diagnostic test Destiny’s medical equipment was capable of doing. Chloe has not been sleeping well, and T.J. hadn’t liked the dark circles under her eyes. James took over in the Infirmary so T.J. could come back to be with David when the scans finished. Luckily, there were very few injuries. Camile’s broken arm and head injury was the most serious and there were a few sprains from when the ship had dropped so abruptly out of FTL.

Pushing himself up out of the command chair, he turns the bridge over to Eli.

He wasn’t looking forward to his talk with Rush. He was afraid he’d lose all the progress he’d made in getting along with the man, but he couldn’t let that stop him.

Hoping like hell that David would come out of this experience with his mind intact, he left the bridge, steeling himself for bad news.

* * *

Rush looks up from the laptop he’d been scrutinizing when Everett crosses the room to stand next to him. The expression on his face is. . . odd. He looks like he took a bite of an apple, expecting a sweet and delicious experience, only to discover the inside was rotten, leaving a disgusting taste in his mouth.

He wants to know what has surprised Rush into that expression, but first he wants a report on David and then he intends to drag the truth out of his chief scientist and see if his hypothesis about Chloe is right.

“Rush,” he says, and tips his head towards David’s still form. T.J. is there, holding a blood pressure cuff.

“He’s fine. While the damage from the earlier brainwashing is there, both times, it’s no affecting him now. He’s clean, Colonel. Destiny should release him shortly.” Rush turns to Park. “Come and monitor Colonel Telford, Doctor Park. Colonel Young and I need to talk.”

Willing to let Rush show his hand before he lays his own cards on the table, Everett follows him back out into the corridor. Rush eyes him, and there’s a shadow of fear in those wide dark eyes, but he squares his shoulders and says, “I think it was the Nakai who used Chloe as their puppet to damage the engines, and she may have contacted them. They very well could have our position.” He pauses, visibly steels himself, swallows hard, and takes a step backwards from Everett.

Everett clasps his hands behind his back. He’s pretty sure he knows what Rush is going to tell him, and if he’s right about that, he has some mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, telling Everett about the communication stone without being forced to admit he’d taken it is a step in the right direction with building trust between each other. On the other hand, Rush even having it in the first place is irritating and annoying. He’s determined that he will not make any aggressive moves towards his chief scientist, though. “Go on,” he tells Rush.

“Colonel, I think they have one of the communication stones, and that would be my fault. I had one with me, when I was stranded on that planet. The desert one, where you --yes, well the point is that when they entered that derelict ship I had opened up, I tried to communicate with them, but they attacked. I ended up fighting them. I was able to get the stone out of my pocket and dropped it, kicked it under a console, but I’m thinking now that they must have found it. They must have studied it, fiddled with it and turned it on, figuring out its purpose after you switched with one of them and freed me out of that water tank.”

He stops, looking apprehensively into Everett’s eyes. “It is my fault. They must have had someone just waiting, restrained in the dark, on the off chance they could connect with us again.”

Young keeps his eyes trained on Rush’s dark brown ones, noting their almond shape, the steady eye contact, and gathers his thoughts. Rush is being honest with him, and that gratifies him immensely.

Still.

“I knew you had taken one of the stones once I heard about Chloe’s experience. It was the only thing that made sense. What I’d like to know now is why. Why did you keep one on you like that? Why take a stone in the first place?”

Rush sighed, and relaxed, apparently assured that Everett wasn’t going to try to throttle him. “It, umm. . . It felt safer to have one of my own. In case you barred me from using the others. And I just kept it with me after the searches for the gun that Spencer used to kill himself.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it sooner?”

“Honestly, I thought it was lost, and I didn’t think about it anymore.” Rush rakes a hand through his already messy hair. “I am sorry. Chloe’s had enough bad experiences with the Nakai, she didn’t need this on top of those blackouts she’s been having. And Destiny, the damages to her engines – I could kick myself.”

Everett loosens the tight clasp he has on his hands and grasps Rush’s shoulder and gives him a gentle shake. “Okay. You did right by telling me now. Let’s just move forward. But while you’re in a confessing mood, is there anything else you want to tell about? Before it kicks us in the teeth when we’re not expecting it?”

Rush shrugs. “Not that I can think of.”

“All right then. I already know you ignore the radio on purpose and duck out early from mandatory meetings or skip them entirely. You aren’t hiding your Hall of Mighty Math anymore-”

“My what?” The outraged look on Rush’s face makes his own lips twitch with a repressed grin. Rush grumbles, “Never mind, I’m quite sure Eli’s to blame.”

“Bingo. But we know about it and the Bridge, so there’s no reason to fib anymore when you go there.”

Rush rolls his eyes.

He eyes Rush, reflecting on the man’s expression when studying David’s scans. “What was that look on your face about, in there? Something happened with David or the program you used that you didn’t like very much.”

“Colonel,” Rush says, shooting him an uncomfortable look. “Nothing happened to Colonel Telford. I said he’s clean and all the readings indicate that stopping and restarting the program did him no harm.”

“There’s something, though. If I ask you to give me your word that it’s not anything that will hurt David, or the ship, I’ll let it go. I don’t expect you to tell me all your secrets. Just the ones that affect this crew and this ship.”

“You’ll trust my given word?”

Looking at this man who has been his nemesis, his victim, his colleague, the reason for sleepless nights and hangovers, he nods his head. He has to offer his trust if they will ever evolve to the tight partnership and friendship he hopes for.

Rush steps closer to him, and speaks in a low voice. “I don’t want everyone to know this. Just Colonel Telford, I suppose. Do I have your word on that?”

“As long as it doesn’t put the ship in danger, or the crew, than yes. You have my word I’ll keep your confidence.”

Rush wraps his arms around himself, and then blows out all his breath in a forceful sigh. He says softly, “When I was in the chair, looking for clues to the master code. I used a memory from my life to build a safe place to search from, you understand. I gave that to Destiny, because frankly, if I never had to remember that time in my life again, it would be a blessing.”

Everett remembered Rush saying something like that before, but he never told anyone what exactly that memory had been. He flashed to how angry he’d felt learning Rush had bypassed him to sit in the chair, not knowing how this would affect the ship, and the fear he’d felt for him. He’d looked small, helpless, without his personality blazing, limp and unconscious, restrained in the neural interface chair. It had roused pity in him, along with the desire to shake some sense into the man.

Rush had never given any of them details on what the dream-memory scape had been like for him.

“How does what happened to you relate to Colonel Telford?”

“The memory I used, of the time when my wife was diagnosed again with cancer and her, her,” Rush swallows and his eyes glisten. “Her illness and dying, Destiny used it to shelter Colonel Telford’s mind when the program stopped. I saw the readings and I believe he saw what happened to Gloria and to me. It’s not something I ever wanted to share with a man who set himself against me so many times.”

Strong feelings swept over Everett at Rush’s admission. He didn’t know what to call it. Sympathy, pity, or empathy, it made him want to wipe away the vulnerability exposed with Rush’s expression. “I’m sorry.” Awkwardly, he offered, “If you ever want to talk about her or that time, I’d listen.”

Rush ran a hand through his hair, and looked away. “It didn’t work, you know. I’d hoped Destiny would destroy what I remembered, but she didn’t. Sometimes, I wish with all my heart that she had ripped it out of my mind.”

“Are you okay?” He knows he sounds gentle and winces. It’s so hard to find the right tone to take with Rush. He hopes he won’t bristle and push him away because of it.

For once, Rush doesn’t turn and stalk away. Giving a hopeless, helpless kind of shrug, he says, “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like it all happened so long ago and at other times the grief just takes me down. I can’t predict it, you understand. It comes in waves. Sometimes it’s steady, like the ocean lapping at a beach, and other times it’s like a tsunami; it sweeps you away before you’ve even realized you’re in danger of falling apart.”

I could be your lifeline, when you’re being being swept away,” Everett thinks, and then throws out the thought. He can’t even keep himself on an even keel, let alone another person. He’s failed Emily, he’s failed T.J. He’s failed the crew. He’s probably going to fail as a father as much as he failed as a husband and a commander. Offering friendship to Rush will probably be a disaster.

Despite all of that, he finds that he’s reached out and grasped Rush’s shoulder. Rush lets him and he squeezes the tight muscles before letting go.

Rush sighs, “Ah, well. Let’s go in and see if Lieutenant Johanson has things well in hand. It should be time to revive Colonel Telford. And I do have that favor to ask from you.”

* * *

Later, after Rush asked for his favor and was granted it; after releasing Ginn from custody, after T.J. gave him a report on Chloe’s genetic changes; after he’d made time to cuddle his daughter and think about how Chloe’s father had given his life for his daughter and how devastated her mother will be to learn that her bright, shining gift of a child is slowly transforming into an enemy alien; after dealing with the hundred and one things being commander of this ancient ship requires as she drifts in space; he watches David pour them both glasses of Brody’s shine from the flask on the table in between them, the light dim in his quarters, the blue flash from the shields lighting up the walls as it makes its orbit around his room.

David is in a strange mood. Oh, he’s happy enough, thrilled to know that he is indeed free of Kiva’s hold on him. But his eyes are still shadowed, and he’s made an earlier toast to all the people whose lives ended because of him.

Everett had countered that with a toast to all the people whose lives David has saved over the years, starting with his own.

The damage done to his friend won’t mend easily, but it will mend. David is as tough as an old boot, and too practical and pragmatic to avoid logic. It wasn’t his fault he was brainwashed. He was a victim, and had no more culpability than poor Chloe had in sabotaging the ship.

David’s admitted as much. He’s also apologized for trying to break up Everett’s marriage.

Abruptly, David raises his glass. “To Rush,” he says, and startled, Everett raises his own to clink against David’s.

“Son-of-a bitch’s saved my life twice over. And I don’t know why he did it the first time. I’d have bet good money on his letting me suffocate.” David throws back the rotgut and drains it to the dregs.

Everett follows his example, and wipes his mouth on his sleeve, shuddering at the taste. “He doesn’t want anyone to die, David. You know, he forgave you for what happened because of Kiva. He told me so.”

David looks at him, then says quietly, “If our situation had been reversed, I don’t think I’d have ever forgiven him.”

“He’s just full of surprises.” Quirking an eyebrow up, Everett asks, “How did he save your life a second time?”

David makes a sound that might pass as a chuckle, unless you knew him as well as Everett knew him. “That program. Probably he’s the only one on board who could have written it, or, well, Eli might have. But if Destiny hadn’t used his memories to shield me when the program was interrupted, I don’t think I’d have made it out of the chair alive. Or I’d have been brain dead.” He filled the glasses up to the brim again, and shook the flask, then tilted it and swallowed down what was left in it.

“So, it was unintentional that he saved me for a second time, but I still like the results.” David indicates himself with one hand. “And I owe him double now.”

“Rush told me about that. He figured it out from the scans. You saw him with his wife, right? Gloria? He said the memory was about her dying from cancer.” Everett toys with glass. He can feel the alcohol making things soft and blurry in his head. “Rush must have really loved her. You know, I used to think he wasn’t capable of loving anyone but himself.”

“Love himself? He hated himself in that memory. Felt that he’d failed his wife, failed to be the husband she needed.”

“Did he fail her?”

“I guess it depends on how you look at it,” David says. He pauses, and his eyes look faraway. “Gloria, she accepted that she was going to die and she wanted him to support her decision to not take any more treatments. She just wanted him to stay with her, be at her side.”

Everett nods, and after shooting him a measuring look, David sighs. “Nick, though, he’s a fighter and he wanted her to keep on trying to live. Even when it was going to just prolong her pain, he kept wanting to believe that a solution would be found, that science would find a way. She didn’t have his faith. He researched everything he could, you know, and they did beat the odds the first time she was sick. But this time, there was no coming back and she found the grace to accept it. Then when she was rapidly losing ground, he was offered a position with the program.”

“Jackson recruited him, right?” Everett says, fascinated by what David is explaining.

David nods. “Yeah, it was Jackson. They actually get along with each other. Here’s the thing, though, and I didn’t learn this from his memories. I found out from doing some snooping about Rush.”

“What?” Everett is not sure he really wants to know what David’s information is, but it sounds like blackmail material to him, and maybe he can do something for Rush to protect him. Unless he’s murdered somebody.

David cracks his knuckles. “I know he ransacked through our files, especially the ones he didn’t have any clearance to access. That’s actually something I have on him, that I was holding onto to use to get him kicked out of the program. From his memories I learned that Gloria wouldn’t let him reveal what he’d done and tank his career, said she would refuse any help from the program. It was a long shot that would have failed anyway because there weren’t any Tokra around to cure her, and it wouldn’t have been authorized even if they scared one of those snakes up from the back end of the galaxy, or even having Carter or Vala try with the Goul’d healing device. We’ve been down that road. Cancer won’t respond to the gadget.”

“Jesus. Poor bastard,” Everett says, and his chest tightens in sympathy for the pain Rush has been through.

David looks away for a moment, and Everett wonders if he, too, is feeling empathy pangs for their difficult lead scientist. Finally, when the silence has stretched into awkward territory, David says, “Nick feels like he failed her because he couldn’t convince her to keep fighting to live. He gave in to what she wanted, finally, but it hurt so much, I don’t know how he kept his sanity.”

“Did they have a good marriage?” It’s a bittersweet question, since his own marriage is now in ashes, but he finds he wants to hear that Rush and Gloria had been there for each other.

“Yeah,” David says quietly. “It’s weird, being inside of someone’s head like that. I feel like I know him now. He’s had it tough, you know. Rough childhood, had to fight for everything he’s ever had in life. Gloria made him so happy. And he made her happy, too. So, yes, they had a good marriage. He’s, ah, shit, he’s difficult.”

“Lotta, lotta work,” Everett says, and in one long swallow empties his tin cup.

“Yeah, I suppose he is. But if he loves you, he’s all in. I kind of envy him that. I’ve never felt that way about anyone. And hell’s bells, nobody has ever cared about me the way Rush’s wife cared about him.”

“After what Kiva and Simeon put him through, I don’t know if he can ever get close to anyone again.” Everett rolls the cup between his palms, thinking. Probably he should keep his thoughts to himself, but the alcohol’s tempting him to keep talking and he surrenders to the impulse. “But maybe he can. Because he’s a strong little bastard and he doesn’t want them to win. He’s done well with getting his life back so far, based on pure stubbornness.“

David stands up, says, “I wish now that I hadn’t messed with him so much, back at the SGC. We might have been friends, if I’d handled things differently and not let my dick do the thinking. He needed a friend, I see that now, and I just wanted to fuck him. If I’d been that friend first, who knows? I wouldn’t have believed it till I lived his memories, like a ghost looking over his shoulder, but there’s some sweetness to him, if you get past his guard.”

He stretches and says, “I owe the man. And I owe you, Everett. Thanks for not shoving me out an airlock when I got brainwashed a second time.”

“I’m glad you’re back. Even if you’re going to be a pain in my ass at times.” He stands up and moves to David’s side, pulls him into a tight hug.

David laughs, then says, “Might as well get talking to Rush over with tonight. Bet you my last pair of socks that he asks for me to get the IOA off his back.”

* * *

Everett wakes, shaking, running cold sweat, not sure if what he remembers is the dregs of a nightmare or a memory. He takes stock, he’s in bed, in his quarters, and the last thing he did outside of this room after leaving David was make his way to Brody’s still and replenish his flask. David had been medically benched by T.J. till the morning and a final checkup by her, so Scott had been on duty, making arrangements to get some help from Earth on fixing the ship.

He’d meant to have just one more drink, but somehow one drink became two, two multiplied to four and then he’d stumbled to his bed, blissfully incapable of running the ramifications of his decisions.

His mouth is dry, and foul tasting. His belly is roiling a little, but he won’t vomit, he feels. His head aches. He curses himself for being weak again and falling into the bottle.

And that dream. It had to have been a dream. Because he’s here and in the dream the compulsive bastards who keep dogging his ship had blown up Destiny due to his decision to not give the damned Nakai Chloe.

So, he hadn’t been able to protect her after all. And it had felt so real. He’d never had a dream like this one, one where the details stayed sharp and clear, not fading into hazy remembrance.

A dream, but one that could happen. They’re sitting ducks right now, without the use of their damaged engine. And Chloe could have sent a message to the Nakai. They could be on their way while he sits on his bed, hung over.

He lurches to his feet and stumbles his way through cleaning himself up and heads out to relieve Scott. Maybe Rush and his team had figured out how to deal with the engine problem, and they could resume their way.

* * *

There’s something different about Ginn, Everett notices, when he arrives on the bridge. She’s moving her hands on the console like she’s not sure exactly how to make them work. Then she smiles at Rush, and it’s shy and admiring and he can see a blush on her cheeks grow when he moves closer to her to make some adjustments to whatever they’re doing together.

Eli is watching them, and the expression on his face. . . He’s exasperated and halfway pouting. Ginn ignores him to ask Rush another question and the mystery clears up for Everett.

He makes his way over to them, extends a hand. “Dr. Amanda Perry, I presume.”

She turns and after a moment’s hesitation, extends her own hand and shakes his. Her grip is at first too strong, then too weak, and she breathes out a sigh of amusement. “I’m sorry, Colonel Young. I’m still getting used to having hands that obey me. I’m very glad to be here on Destiny. Nick has been showing me the systems and the engines.”

“I have, too,” interjects Eli. Brody and Volker chime in also, causing Rush to glance over at the rest of the team, looking vexed.

Park looks amused. “Dr. Perry is a team player, Colonel, but she and Dr. Rush--”

“Are having a professional consultation,” Rush blocks out whatever Park was going to say. “The rest of you lot get back to working on your own assignments. We’ll meet back here in two hours, and I’d best be hearing your suggestions on how we can resolve this problem and be back on our way.”

Park stops by Dr. Perry and somehow pulls her away to say something that has Dr. Perry nodding her head in agreement, and Park’s expression turning mischievous.

Rush is watching them, and his eyes narrow. “On your way, now, Dr. Park. Dr. Perry’s needed wi’ me.”

“Just what I was saying to her, Doctor Rush,” Park says, smiling. She starts chuckling as she makes her way to the door, and Rush shoots a suspicious look her way.

“Just a moment, Dr. Park,” Rush calls out and practically sprints over to her side, and escorts her out into the hallway.

Dr. Perry rejoins Everett at the console and smiles up at him. It’s always surprising to him, when consciousness are exchanged with the stones, how the mannerisms and body language change to match that of the person within that body.

He raises his eyebrows, and nods toward the door, and Dr. Perry flashes him a sweet smile.

“It’s nothing, really. Well, nothing that I don’t already know very well. Dr. Park was telling me not to mind if Nick gets testy, because he gets grumpy when he hasn’t had any sleep, and he was up all night clearing Ginn – she’s not under any influence from the Alliance – and helping to make the arrangements for me to come on board. I’ll be staying until we get this engine problem handled.”

“Any ideas yet?”

“I think using the robot Nick found to cut free the disabled engine will be the best solution, but that’s not definitely decided yet. There’s other data to consider first.”

“You didn’t look concerned about Dr. Rush’s temper.”

“We’ve known each other for a while, and I’ve seen him work himself to fits. He won’t scare me off. He’s stubborn, but I can usually talk him into taking a break.” She gave Everett a sympathetic look. “He must have been out of his mind when his supply of coffee and cigarettes were cut off.”

Everett couldn’t help himself. He snorted. “Add that to working without adequate sleep for who knows how long and with exactly no sleep the first days we arrived here and a long hike through a desert, and you have the recipe for one tired, overstrung scientist to land himself in bed for ten hours after ranting himself into passing out. He probably could have slept another ten hours, but I needed him awake.”

Dr. Perry’s hand covered her mouth, and she choked out, “Oh, my. Poor Nick.”

“Good luck, Dr. Perry. If he won’t take a break when it gets to the point that he’s going to start making mistakes, call me. Lieutenant Johanson, our medical officer, has a sleep potion that will drop him where he stands, and I’ll make sure he drinks it.”

“This isn’t a problem that we can power through in a few hours. It’s going to take days, maybe even weeks, before Destiny can jump back into hyperspace. Nick will just have to pace himself. I’m sure I can sweet talk him into getting enough sleep.” She glances over to where the man in question is re-entering the bridge, a flustered look on his face.

“Thank you for agreeing to come on board,” Everett says. “If you need anything at all, just contact me.” He gives her a nod and heads for the door.

Stopping Rush before he can resume working with the woman that he evidently has some kind of good friendship with, Everett tells him that they can resume their chess games and dinners after Dr. Perry has returned to Earth. Hoping he’s handling this delicately enough, he asks if Rush would like him to continue to grab a dinner tray for him and leave it in his quarters.

Rush shakes his head no. “Mandy will get one for me.”

“You told her why you can’t go to the Mess?”

“No. She was briefed, a bit, about the Alliance taking over Destiny. She knows I was, uh, tortured by them. She doesn’t know the details. I told her I don’t like to eat in the Mess, with the others. She won’t press me about it, that’s not her way.”

Everett lays a hand on Rush’s shoulder. “Don’t forget to get some sleep, genius. You’re no Prince Charming when you’re exhausted.”

Rush rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes. I am an adult, Colonel. I can set my own bedtime.”

“Sure. Until you become a walking hazard, then for the greater good, T.J. will put you under.”

From the tilt of his chin, Rush looks like he wants to argue that point, but Everett just shakes his shoulder a little and Rush gives him a questioning, exasperated look.

“So, you’ll knock off at a reasonable time and get some sleep?” Everett’s eyes flick over to Dr. Perry and Rush’s expression softens.

“Yes. Unless the ship’s about to explode.”

At the mention of that, Everett flashes back to his nightmare. “Make sure the long range sensors are being manned. If the Nakai are coming, I want to know about it as soon as possible. ”

Rush narrows his eyes at him, apparently catching something from Everett’s expression that he’d like to interrogate him about, for he says, “Of course we’re watching the sensors. Colonel, are you all right?”

“Sure,” he lies and lets go of Rush. Time to check on David and Camile and see O’Neill.

* * *

“What’s the news from Homeworld Command?” David asks him, over a nightcap late that evening. They are in David’s new quarters, one of the more spacious rooms and like his own, equipped with its own bathroom.

He shrugs, thinking about opening up the letter from Emily before meeting with O’Neill. He feels deeply exhausted. “I didn’t ask. Except for the briefing about the Lucian Alliance’s activities. From what Ginn overheard of Simeon’s conversations with the others in their clan, they were planning some sort of attack and that was confirmed by other intel. She’s still on Earth, going over what few details she knew again.”

David snorts. “Everett, I should go with you next time. You’ve got to know which way the winds blowing to weather the storms. I’ve got my sources with the nerds and the IOA and with the SGC and headquarters. We need to stay in the loop with the current politics.”

Pouring himself another few fingers of alcohol, Everett knocks it back and grimaces. “Most of what’s going on doesn’t seem relevant anymore. Out here, we’re on our own. And we’re just not that important to Homeworld Command, except for the connection with the Lucian Alliance. But if you want to waste your time, be my guest. You can switch on the stones tomorrow with a scientist Rush wants to consult about the manufacturing room we discovered.”

“Rush wants to talk to this expert?”

“No. He wants Brody to meet with him. He’s busy with Dr. Perry.”

“Busy as a bee sniffing around a flower,” David says, smirking when he refills his own glass.

“Leave him alone, David,” Everett says, surprising himself with the rush of protectiveness he’s feeling. “I gather they’re old friends, and it’s good for him, after all he’s been through, to reconnect.”

“I wonder if he’s finally catching on that Dr. Perry would like to be more than friends,” David says. “Talk about oblivious. Still, nothing much can happen with her on earth and him stuck here. Even with switching bodies, although it’s got to be wonderful for Dr. Perry to be able to move on her own, I doubt that Ginn gave permission for her body to be used for sex.”

“Camile would have gone over everything with her.”

“How’s she feeling?”

“Camile? Better, the headache is gone. But she’s not cleared to use the stones yet. T.J. doesn’t think it’s a good idea for at least a week.”

He stands up. “I should get some sleep. By the way, how’d it go with Rush earlier?”

David stands up also, draws him into a loose hug. “Not the way I thought it would.”

He can’t help but grin. “That man never jumps the way you think he will. So, he didn’t ask you to get him out of trouble with the IOA?”

“Nope. He eyed me for a long time, after I told him I wanted to repay him for saving my life, and finally said he’d think on it. I told him with the contacts and favors I’m owed with the IOA that I could get him off their shit list, but he just shook his head. I’m not sure what he has in mind, but I know for damn sure that he’ll think of something. Probably something I won’t be too thrilled with doing, I bet.”

Everett gives David a long long. “You won’t do anything you think is wrong or makes you uncomfortable, right?”

David shakes his head. “No. I owe him a big favor, but not my soul. I’d like to hold onto what integrity I have left, after what I was forced to do for Kiva.”

“Okay. Get some rest.”

“I’ll say the same to you. You’ve been looking like shit, you know.”

He shrugs again at that, not denying what David’s just said. “Let’s just hope the Nakai don’t show up before we’re able to jump back into hyperspace.”

David leans against a wall and says, “Sure, I’ll keep my fingers crossed right along with you. But there’s more, isn’t there.” It’s not a question, but then he asks, “What happened, on Earth?”

He feels his throat trying to close up, the alcohol leaving him for once more vulnerable to his feelings instead of deadening them. He debates telling David about Emily, about the divorce papers he’d signed sitting in the waiting room of O’Neill’s office. But it’s too raw, and David, even though he’d not been responsible for his behavior, had helped demolish the fragile rebuilding of his relationship with Emily.

His wife. His ex-wife.

Just another way he’d failed at life. But David has enough to contend with and it won’t make Everett feel better to share the news. Later, when the hurt isn’t so new, so sharp, so devastating, he’ll tell David.

He waves off David’s concern and leaves, taking his bottle of moonshine with him and once in his own quarters, finishes off the rest of it. He hopes he’ll pass straight out and not dream about blue aliens and their demands to take Chloe.

* * *

For days, Camile has dogged his steps until he agrees to talk to her later, in his quarters. That night, she expresses her concern about his state of mind, and it’s both a warning that he’s been served notice that his drinking has become unacceptable and an invitation for counseling with her. He turns her down, but a few days later, after another horrible nightmare about the Nakai, he finds himself at her door, sweat cooling on his skin, his mouth foul from his earlier binging. He tells her about the dreams, then, and she connects it with the recent orders he’s been giving. She offers her observation that he’s avoiding seeing Chloe, who’s locked in her room, with a guard stationed outside, and that his subconscious is punishing him for that cowardice.

He goes away considering Camile’s words. The changes the Nakai have engineered in Chloe’s DNA are becoming more evident, and she has long times where her staring can not be disrupted, and the walls of her cabin are becoming covered with numbers and symbols that Chloe never learned in college. He should see her, reassure her that they’ll find a way to save her, but he can’t force himself to say that lie to her face.

He’s afraid he’ll have to kill her or maroon her, and the thought is agony for him. He doesn’t talk to her, despite knowing Camile’s suggestion to face her is wise.

* * *

Two nights later he’s again wakened from those vivid dreams from hell. Destiny’s weapons were not sufficient to hold off the Nakai. The bastards had invaded his ship and killed his people and snatched Chloe away. He shudders, and gets to his feet feeling sweat pouring from him. The ship had been destroyed by the enemy, even though they’d gotten what they wanted.

He can’t stop thinking about the weapons array, and he pulls on his shirt and pants, jams his feet into boots minus his socks, feeling compelled to tackle this problem right now. They’re sitting ducks, and if they can’t run, then they’ll have to fight.

He needs Rush. Needs to have him change all their priorities into beefing up their guns. Everything else can wait.

Rush isn’t on the Bridge, but Eli is more than happy to point him to where the man has gone with Dr. Perry. He ignores Eli’s shouted question as he double-times it toward the hallway. Ginn will return when the IOA are done with questioning her about every facet of the Lucian Alliance, and Dr. Perry’s work on board is completed. Eli will just have to deal with it.

He’d have to be blind not to notice how miffed Eli has been with Ginn’s absence, and how he watches Rush like a hawk when he’s working with Dr. Perry.

He skids to a stop just shy of Dr. Perry’s open door because he hears their voices. Impatiently, he waits for Rush to say goodnight, kiss her or whatever, he needs to talk to the man right now. He can’t make out exactly what they’re murmuring about, but he hears Rush’s stressed voice, and maybe he’s more tuned in now to the sound of that Scottish lilt because he swears the man is on the verge of crying. Dr. Perry sounds soothing, and he chafes at their interaction, the memory of his dream impelling him to take action right now. He clears his throat as he steps inside the door. Dr. Perry has her arms wrapped around Rush, but this doesn’t look like a passionate embrace to him. Rush’s eyes are shut, and his expression looks agonized. Dr. Perry sees him, but doesn’t push away from the man she’s obviously comforting.

“Nick,” she says. “Colonel Young needs us.”

She drops her arms, as Rush jerks around, obviously startled. His expression starts to morph, vulnerability and sadness exchanging for irritation and exasperation. There are tears clinging to his lashes.

“What?” he says, his voice clogged and rough. “Is the damn ship on fire?” He steps closer to Young and the sweat and stink of alcohol being processed through pores must hit him, because he makes a disgusted face. Abruptly, Young breathes in the muddle of odors that shout that he’s slipping, he’s fucking up, that he’s a sorry excuse for a commander. He hasn’t bathed for the last two days, he’s been hung over every morning, and his hair, as he runs a hand through it, feels greasy and tangled and unkempt.

So he’s a mess. Rush needs to change their work priorities. “I want you to drop every other drain on our energy and time and focus on the weapons array. That includes the damn shields. I want it done tonight. I want to see the tests showing that we can destroy Nakai ships.”

“Drop power to the shields? Colonel, that’s how Destiny has held off the Nakai in the past when they’ve tried to board. We can’t do that!” Rush dashes the wetness from his eyes, and looks at Everett suspiciously.

“Colonel? The timetable for the work the robot is doing on the engines can’t be moved up anymore than it is, but I can comb through the systems to try for more efficiency. My preliminary work shows we can save maybe three percent of power usage.” Amanda Perry looks to Rush, who gives her a forced smile.

“Mandy, the Colonel and I need a few moments, but I’ll be right back.” He nods toward the open door, and lays a gentle hand on her arm for a moment, before striding off.

Everett feels his temper starting to rise, because he can read Rush’s body language like a billboard on a highway, and the man’s resistance to Everett’s order is written large in the jerking of his chin upwards and the quick pace of his step.

Everett catches up to him past the doorway and reaches out an arm to stop Rush. Rush whirls around and steps into his personal space. Everett takes a step backwards, toward the corridor wall. Rush steps forward again, and his hands fly up in exasperation, making Everett take another step backward.

“Are ye daft?” he demands. “Yes, all right, we can squeeze and scrape a wee bit of energy from what Mandy’s suggesting, and as I’ve told you we can hold off on starting up the manufacturing plant, we can shut off life support to some decks, although God help the poor sod who mistakenly goes to those areas, we can drop the temperature till our arses are freezing, but Colonel, we can not take any energy from the bloody shields!”

“You have to. The Nakai will tear through the shields, they’ll board us and take Chloe and blow us out of the sky.” He shivers, remembering his dream, and hopelessness floods his mind. “They’re coming. I know they are. Diverting more energy to the shields won’t stop them, they’ll be relentless. Our only hope is to take them out and pray their reinforcements don’t arrive until after we can jump once again.”

“Why now are you so damn sure? Two days ago, it was ‘Rush, make sure those long range sensors are working and make the shields stronger. We have to outlast the Nakai if they come.’ And we’ve done just that, thanks to Brody’s work on the power relays.”

He looks at Everett, takes in the disheveled clothes, and he falls quiet. Everett's being judged, those intelligent eyes are taking in everything about Everett and putting together a theory.

“Colonel,” he says. “I know. . . I know, things have been hard. You’ve a lot on your plate and I maybe haven’t paid close attention these past weeks, but you can’t do this. It’s obvious you’ve been on a bender and Telford, I suppose he’s told you he’ll cover for your drinking, but I don’t trust the git. You stay like this, he’ll be bending O’Neill’s ear about you being unfit to command. For God’s sake, Everett, man, pull yourself together. This crew needs you.”

“A pep talk from you, will wonders never cease,” he manages to spit out, because if David is plotting to get his command, it would probably be better for everyone. Hell, maybe he should just turn command over to him now and save David the trouble of bothering O’Neill.

“I mean it, Colonel. Telford is not the right man to take charge of the crew. Scott’s a good lad, but he’s young, he’s no got the experience to do this. Lieutenant Johanson is able, but she’s no ready for this command either. Camile and I, we’ve learned we’re not the right people. You are the best man for the job.”

“During the mutiny, you told me the exact opposite,” Everett points out, and even still drunk, and feeling like ten miles of hard road, he puts a sarcastic spin on it. Rush is unbelievable. He doesn’t know why he’s fighting against Rush’s elevated opinion, except he doesn’t see how Rush can really mean what he says. He’s not a good commander, not anymore. He’s made terrible mistakes. People have died, hell, Rush was tortured for his screw ups.

He shakes his head. “Just fix the weapons array, Rush. David’s willing to step up, and I’m ready to let him.”

Rush’s eyes snap and he throws his hands up in the air. “You’re pure dead wrong, but go on, drink yourself blind and ignore that we need you.”

Everett blinks. “We?” he asks.

Rush’s eyes widen, and he stares at Everett.

His attention snaps from Everett to the doorway when he hears a choking sound. He cries out, “Mandy!”

Rush dashes away. Everett finds himself running into the room and sees that Rush is pounding Dr. Perry on the back. Dr. Perry’s eyes are panicked, she’s clutching her throat.

Ginn’s throat. Her long red hair has come down from the loose knot Dr. Perry had fixed and something in Everett firms up and he surveys the scene, looking for clues as to what happened. There are two glasses and one of Brody’s flasks, but they’re clean yet, and the bottle is closed, ruling out choking on moonshine.

Maybe she ate something and it got stuck, although he doesn’t see any plates of food. He radios for T.J. describing the choking while Rush keeps hitting Dr. Perry’s back.

Everett pushes him away roughly after he’s called for help. “I’m going to try the Heimlich.” Rush nods as Everett gets into position and uses the training he has to try to save this crewmember.

He keeps trying until Dr. Perry passes out. He quickly lays her down and Rush drops to his knees on the other side of her limp body. “Do you know CPR?”

Rush’s agonized eyes bore into his. “I had a class a long time ago. Tell me what to do!”

In terse terms, Everett quickly explains what they’re going to do, as he’s checking for a pulse and sweeping a finger through her mouth. There’s nothing there, nothing was dislodged by Rush’s back blows and his using the Heimlich.

He starts chest compressions, counting aloud and then giving mouth to mouth before resuming chest compressions again. This time around, Rush is ready with locked elbows and straight arms to take over pushing down on Ginn’s chest, and Everett concentrates on breathing for her, listening to see if she’s breathing on her own.

The only sounds in the room are Rush’s soft counting and the sounds of the two of them working in tandem, trying to save Dr. Perry’s and Ginn’s lives.

* * *

Chapter 20: Apprehension

“Stand by to clear the stones and get Ginn back here,” the Colonel says into the radio he’s snatched up to his lips. Then he’s bending over the still body and forcing air down into her lungs.

The terror Rush feels as Mandy – Ginn – dies under his and the Colonel’s hands do not stop him from continuing to do chest compressions. Somewhere in his head, he’s observing that once again, when quick action because of danger of one sort or the other arises, he doesn’t still in panic, but acts. It’s how he’s wired, to respond by instinct, to protect himself, to calculate what must be done quickly to save others, to salvage what he can from disaster.

He gives himself no credit for this attribute. It’s not something that was practiced or learned, a skill that he’s attained by hard study, not like the mathematics. He was born this way. Same as he was designed by his DNA to be a short man with brown eyes and a mop of flyaway hair.

For him, the pause, the panic over what he did or did not accomplish comes later, along with the shakiness and second guessing himself.

His Mandy is dying, and brave little Ginn, who like him was born to a hard scrabble life that she didn’t let suffocate her desire to learn. Mandy, who battled courageously every day for what most people took for granted, even something as basic as breathing and eating, and who transcended her disabilities to soar into such high level physics and mathematics that few were her equal.

He’ll not lose them, either one. There is sweat running down his temples as he continues his exertions, pushing down on Ginn’s chest with locked hands, stiffly extended arms, the way the Colonel had shown him.

The Colonel locks eyes with him, after breathing for the lass. The man is calm and steady, having a task to do and not having to watch others do it for him, not like he’s been sometimes when they’ve been under attack, yelling and demanding answers. He’s glad the Colonel is here, with his knowledge of first aid.

He feels the lass take a breath; suddenly she’s choking, and they turn her on her side. His eyes fill with wetness as he’s swept suddenly with relief-- she’s breathing, his Mandy -- and as she coughs and spits on the floor and her eyes flutter open, Lieutenant Johansen runs into the room, carrying her medical bag and her babe.

She drops to her knees and thrusts the child into the Colonel’s arms, then starts examining Mandy. Or is this Ginn, now back in her own body? The lass, whoever she is, is not ready to speak yet. She seems confused, as her eyes fix on the Colonel and his daughter.

The Lieutenant is doing a whole raft of medical things with her stethoscope, taking vitals he supposes.

“Mandy?” he asks, and feels his heart in his throat before she looks at him and nods.

“Don’t speak until you feel ready,” Lieutenant Johansen warns, and helps Mandy to sit up, then moves the stethoscope to her back. She takes Mandy’s pulse and the child wiggles in her father’s arms, making a discontented grumble.

Mandy reaches out her hand and he takes it, brings it to his lips and kisses her knuckles. He slumps so he’s sitting back on his legs and holds her hand to his heart. “Mandy,” he repeats.

She still looks confused. “What happened?” she says. “All of a sudden I couldn’t breathe. I, I think I was. . .” She makes a flip-flop motion with her free hand. “I was back on Earth? I don’t know.”

The Colonel jiggles Carmen and moves her so she’s on his shoulder. She raises her head up, looking around and a small hand finds its way into her father’s dark curls. “I’ll send Camile to find out what’s going on back there,” he says, raising his radio to his mouth and waking Camile, and catching Carmen’s interest in the device.

Mandy grimaces and her eyes go blank. Then she seems to return and starts to gasp. “My chest – Oh, God! TJ?” She puts her hand on her chest and then her jaw. “It hurts, it hurts!”

Her hand goes limp in his own. “Don’t!” he urges, “Mandy, don’t you do this! You stay wi’ me, lass, you stay!”

But he hears the Colonel give the order to clear Ginn’s stone and a few moments later Mandy’s frightened expression shifts into Ginn’s sharp and pitying look, directed straight to him.

“Dinn, I mean, Doctor Rush? Doctor Perry is having a heart attack, they think. She, I, choked on a piece of meat.”

* * *

Waiting to find out Mandy’s condition brings back all the misery of Gloria’s death. Eli had swooped into Ginn’s room, his feelings blatantly exposed, and the look on Ginn’s face when she saw him was like a knife into his own heart. Once he and Gloria had looked at each other that way, and his stomach clenched as he flashed back to the simulation with Destiny, where he’d held Gloria’s hand and kissed it, much like what he’d done an hour ago with Mandy. With Gloria, or rather the AI who thought it necessary to test him with that grief stricken memory, it was to say goodby. With Mandy, it had been one of the first tentative steps toward feelings that were sliding into love.

He’s too edgy to sit on the bench and twists his hands together as he stares out at the shield’s colorful play of lights. The observation deck is deserted. Well, most of the crew are asleep, and the few that had seen his face or witnessed him smashing his fist against the corridor walls had wisely chosen to leave him the fuck alone.

Lieutenant Johansen wanted to keep Ginn under observation in the infirmary and Eli had picked her up, not waiting for one of his kino sleds to be brought to the room. He’d watched the tenderness, the care Eli took, and suspected there would be a wedding one day between the two of them.

Eli had carried him when the sleep brew he’d been forced to drink by Kiva was putting him under. He’d been crawling. Crawling, for fuck’s sake, because he’d been so exhausted he couldn’t even walk to the cell where the Colonel and the rest of the military were being held. Kiva had said he was to have no help in getting there, unless he begged.

He hadn’t begged. But Eli had helped him anyway, and he faintly remembers that the boy had pretended aloud to satisfy the guards that Rush – Kresh’ta, Dinn – had humiliated himself by asking for help.

Camile has told him over and over that it’s not weak to ask for help. That he is part of the crew, a member of this community and they all need to help each other.

Volker and Brody had helped Eli make that ridiculous hover board contraption for him. Brody and the Colonel made sure he didn’t go hungry. Park has hugged him and not made him feel like a baby about it. Greer also held him when he’d had a break down, let him cry himself out against his shoulder, and not treated him like he was a weakling afterwards. Volker had shared his water with him, and Chloe had defied the Lucians to tend to him and feed him power bars. In the military cell, James and Barnes had shared their blankets with him, but in a way that gave him the space he had so desperately had needed.

The crew had been there for him, and when he thinks back to those first days on Destiny, it’s like it had occurred to different people. Chloe had wanted him dead, and Greer would have shot him, if he hadn’t been needed for their survival.

He shivers, the memories bringing back some of the pain and humiliation from those days of captivity.

The Colonel had covered Rush’s naked and filthy body with his own jacket and had let him hide his face against his shoulder so he wouldn’t have to see the pitying and shocked looks of the crew as Young carried him out of the Mess to the Infirmary. Away from that table. Away from the Lucians forcing their dicks into his mouth and his arse.

Even now, months later, a wave of gratitude rocks him for what the Colonel did, and he fingers the jacket that had sheltered him. The Colonel’s actions still bewildered him. It wasn’t like they’d been friends.

Are they friends now? It is what the Colonel wants from him. Rush is not dense, after all. The Colonel would like Rush to be part of his inner circle, a trusted adviser, someone who will watch his back. Be honest with him, not keep secrets.

He’d forgiven the Colonel for raping him. He knew, even at the time, that the man had only done it with reluctance, to save Rush’s life, and to keep any other crew member from darkening their soul. The Colonel hadn’t enjoyed fucking him.

He’s still not sure about Telford. He suspects that Colonel David Telford could have enjoyed forcing him, even if he’d done it for the sake of his undercover status. He hadn’t asked Telford if he had.

The man had apologized to him, thanked him for saving his life and said he regretted how things had played out back on Icarus. He did seem sincere, but then, the man had fooled Kiva. He was a pure dead brilliant actor, to pull that off.

To Rush’s surprise, he’d offered to even things up between them, saying that he owed Rush. He’d suggested that he could get the IOA to drop their investigation into his behavior, influence Chloe’s mother to give up her vendetta against Rush for her husband’s death.

He’d considered it, but decided that having Telford owe him like that was worth holding onto for a while. He did recognize that in some ways they were alike, pragmatic, able to make the hard decisions. Telford could have his uses, and he’d not balk at any unpleasantness. Not after what he’d done for Kiva, even when he wasn’t brainwashed. Rush can’t conceive of anything he could request that would be even close to Kiva’s orders.

He steps forward and grasps the railing, holding onto it like it can steady him for what Camile will no doubt come soon to tell him. He regrets, with all his heart, that after the sweet kiss Mandy had gifted him with earlier, after she’d invited him into Ginn’s quarters for a nightcap, that he’d pulled away from her. Gloria’s death so recently relived, the rapes he’d endured, physical intimacy, emotional intimacy, it all seemed too overwhelming.

Now he feels he was foolish and stupid and cowardly, although Mandy had been her usual sweet and tactful self about it, and had hugged him, comforting him after his halting explanation of why he couldn’t respond the way she was hoping he would.

He had alluded to the torture, but hadn’t told her what had really happened. To his great surprise, no one on board had pulled her aside to tell her about those three days he’d been bound to a table and used over and over again and the disgusting things he’d done for food and water. Perhaps the crew felt it was their own secret to keep. They’d been a part of it, too, with their eyes on him as he was relentlessly raped. Maybe no one was keen to explain their own helplessness, that they hadn’t risen up and rebelled against the Lucians, to stop them from hurting him and starving him. Not that he blamed them, or well, more accurate to say that he’d forgiven them. Most likely, they’d have taken their own places on their own tables, for daring to try to stop their captors.

He’d have known if she knew. Mandy wouldn’t have been able to look at him without her eyes filling out of pity.

He hears the sound of footsteps, and stiffens. Tries to quell his fears and screw his face into a stone mask, when he turns to see who is intruding upon him.

Colonel Young. He still has his daughter with him. When he steps beside Rush, it’s evident that the man has bathed and shaved and changed into clean clothes.

Shrugging, the Colonel says, “Yeah, I cleaned up. I didn’t want my girl here to associate me with the stink of booze and the feel of stubble when I kiss her.”

For an instant, the Colonel’s words take him back to his childhood, and the rough hand of his father, the smell of menthol cigarettes and cheap whiskey.

He shakes those memories off. He’d moved on from all of that a long time ago.

The Colonel takes a good look at him, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Camile’s not back yet.”

He nods. “Thank you. Take your wee girl off to bed, Colonel. I’m fine.”

“She is getting kind of heavy. Here.” Suddenly he finds himself cradling a sound asleep baby, his arms instinctively keeping her secure. Safe. He raises her a little, the better to see her. She smells of milk and sweetness and her dark hair might be curling a little. The Colonel’s DNA, since Lieutenant Johansen’s blonde hair was thick and straight.

The Colonel stretches and then steps back and lowers himself to the bench. “TJ says Carmen sleeps best when she’s being held. I tried to lay her down, and the little stinker woke right up. By the way, since you asked, Ginn seems to be fine. TJ’s gonna keep an eye on her till morning.”

He nods again. He’d raged, cursed the accident that had robbed Mandy of her mobility, cursed himself for being afraid of her feelings for him. He wished he had someone to blame, someone he could punish, pummel with his fists. Sheer, bloody bad luck she’d been so badly injured, with only an icy road to blame.

He’d walked, no, he’d pounded his feet again the corridor floor, hitting the walls till his fists were sore and tomorrow the bruises will shout of his anger and frustration. He feels exhausted now, and how long had it been since he’d slept well? Nightmares had plagued him these last weeks, after leaving Mandy at night. He suspected his subconscious had decided to punish him for daring to regain some small happiness.

He hadn’t deserved someone like Mandy. God only knows what she saw in him. He was bad tempered, nothing much to look at, and damaged, even back at the SGC. If he’d stayed on Earth, would their friendship had progressed? Might he still have that chance, if Mandy were to pull through?

God, he didn’t know.

The baby sighs in her sleep and squirms, arching her back, and he rocks his body back and forth, to pacify her .

The Colonel is watching him. He’s quiet, and seems somehow more settled. Rush can only hope that lasts. He well understands that sometimes a man needs to get pissed, but for the Colonel, Brody’s moonshine has become a crutch.

Maybe it’s because he’s so tired that he says aloud what he’d been thinking.

“Well, you’re not wrong, Nick,” the Colonel says mildly. “I know it’s a crutch. Tell you what, those evenings we played chess helped.”

“Need a project do you, keep your evenings full?” Rush asks, and deliberately keeps looking down at Miss Carmen. He doesn’t want the Colonel to see his eyes right now.

“You got something in mind? If you’re going to suggest I work more Bridge shifts, I don’t think that will help.” The note of wryness, of self-depreciation, helps him to decide to indeed ask for the Colonel’s assistance.

“I, Colonel?” He pauses and then tries to force the words out. “I, um, I . . .”

“Just ask, Nick. If it’s not illegal, and even maybe if it is, I’ll consider it. You want something from me?”

“Yes.” He takes a deep breath. “I no can get close to the Mess without a bloody panic attack taking me down and I’m fuckin’ tired of it. Help me get over it, be with me, do what you did on the planet with the rotten fruit, when it set me off. You got me to calm down, you handled me and part of me hates that you were able to do that, to know me so well that you knew how to stop me freaking out, but more of me was so damn grateful to you.” He pauses, a little amazed at how the words had just gushed from him after all. “I want my life back, Colonel. As long as I can’t even take two steps down the corridor to the Mess, Kiva has the control. That bitch shouldn’t be allowed to keep it.”

He finds the courage to look the Colonel in the eyes, him holding the man’s child and standing in front of him. He ought to go to his knees, since he’s begging. “Will you help me, Everett? At night, when the crew’s away to their bunks, when curious eyes won’t be watching, will you help me?”

The Colonel tugs at him to sit down beside him on the bench. “Of course I will, Nick. And save the thanks. To my way of thinking, you’d be doing me a favor by keeping me busy. It’s when I’m alone in my quarters but I’m not ready to sleep that I backslide into taking a drink. It’s always supposed to be just one, but then I start thinking of all the ways I’ve screwed up and then it’s two drinks, to four drinks and then I’m gone.”

He gives a sigh of relief and a nod, and they sit there in silence. He suspects it’s the same for the Colonel as for him, that he’s feeling a bit awkward now.

The Colonel puts an arm around him, and he doesn’t shrug him off. He’s exhausted and soon he’ll know Mandy’s fate. He’ll take this wee bit of comfort from a friend.

* * *

He feels a hand on his knee and his eyes open. He’d dozed off, but even in his sleep he’d kept tight hold of the baby.

Camile is kneeling in front of him. The Colonel’s arm around him tightens, and he looks apprehensively at Camile.

“Nicholas,” she says. “I’m so very sorry. Amanda died tonight of a severe heart attack.”

* * *

He ends up at Brody’s make shift bar the next night, where the crew is having a wake of sorts for Mandy. He stands against the wall and listens to his crewmates, the ones who had known Mandy, speak about her. He doesn’t say anything, and thank fuck no one asks him to say a few words.

Camile and the Colonel ganged up on him last night, taking turns staying with him while he absorbed the shock of Mandy’s death.

The Colonel had walked with him at first when he couldn’t bear to sit still. Then, after dropping Carmen off with her mother, they continued up and down Destiny’s halls, his striding slowing until he was just putting one slow foot in front of the other. Camile had joined them, and the Colonel had pulled him into a rough hug saying for him to try and get some sleep, and that he was sorry for his loss. He’d left, and Camile had become his keeper.

Finally, Camile had talked him into trying to sleep. When he woke up, he was alone and there was a sketch of Mandy, from the shoulders up, only part of the wheel chair visible, on the blanket next to him.

Her lips were curved in a sweet expression, and her eyes shone with intelligence. Later, after he’d cried himself out, touching the curve of her cheek while he’d sobbed, he’d placed the picture in his desk drawer. He used to keep Gloria’s picture in his dresser drawer, back on Icarus. When things became too much, he’d pull it out, caress her lovely face again.

Only shades of color on a slick piece of paper. All he had left. And it was gone now, along with the entire planet.

He’d nodded to the people who had expressed condolences, even let Eli and Park give him a hug, while he worked on directing the robot to free the damaged engine. He kept his tears to himself, immersed in his work.

But that was earlier and hearing so many people share stories of Mandy has caused his shields to fail. He should leave, but finds he can’t, not just yet.

In this sorry excuse of a bar, people are raising their mugs, a last call, a last toast for Dr. Amanda Perry. Some of these people had known her from her work with the SGC. Some had only met her on board Destiny, her body exchanged with Ginn’s.

Ginn is here, sitting with Eli and Matthew. Park and Greer are here as well. Brody and Volker, too. The Colonel and Lieutenant Johansen sit together, with Camile, who is holding Miss Carmen. The baby is clutching the necklace Camile always wears.

Colonel Telford is lounging at a table with some of the crew. He wonders about that, but he does remember the man used to make time to talk to Mandy, when they all were stationed at Stargate Command.

He ducks out when people start to rise. He’s not up for talking with them. He’ll go back to the engineering station.

* * *

An hour later Colonel Telford walks in to where he’s been hiding away and he looks up from his station. He rubs his head, right above his left eyebrow. He can feel a headache waiting to burst out, and he wonders what the fuck Telford wants of him. He’s no doubt not satisfied with his work or the Science Team’s efforts. Well, fuck that, they’ve all been working as hard as they can. Probably Telford will want to bring on board his own scientists from Homeworld Command.

The fuck he will. That lot have been nothing but trouble on board.

He turns around and glowers at the man. “If you’re here to suggest we bring some of your people on board since we lost Dr. Perry, I’ll not go along with it. None of them even come close to her level of expertise.”

Telford crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh, really? What about Carter or McKay or Zelenka?”

Bollocks. As if he could turn away help from those three. He’d be a fool not to agree.

“Fine, then. I doubt Homeworld Command can spare more than one. Who did you bribe or blackmail into using the stones?”

Telford snorts. “I wish. No, they can’t be spared. You assumed, pal. I just couldn’t resist tweaking you for it.”

The headache decides it’s a fine time to start hammering his brain.

The sigh that escapes his control is loud and even to his own ears sounds petulant. Telford grins at him, the bastard.

Then the grin leaves his face. “No, Nick. I didn’t come here to harass you. I just wanted you to know I’m damn sorry for Dr. Perry’s loss. She was brilliant, and sweet.”

A wave of grief sweeps through him. “Sweet. Aye, she was, although how you would know that escapes me. Everyone at the SGC knew she was brilliant. Tops in her field, creative, inventive. Her work on hyper-drives was ground breaking.”

“All of that, yep. And I know she was sweet and good natured because I used to talk to her.”

Rush stares at him bewildered, although, yes, he knew of several times it had occurred. “Whatever for? Were you trying to collect her as you collected your other pet scientists?”

Telford shrugs again. “I didn’t find her particularly collectible, as you call it. But she was very helpful to me.”

He bristles at that. “About what? Were you pumping her for secrets to give to Kiva?”

“Not initially. Later, after Kiva got her claws in me, yeah, I tried. Got nowhere. But she was helpful to me about you.”

That he wasn’t expecting to hear.

“What about?” he says cautiously.

“I’d noticed you were good friends and I wanted to know more about you. Now you, I was trying to collect. For personal reasons, as you guessed. Everett told me it finally dawned on you that I was interested in getting you into bed.”

He can’t think of a thing to say to that. It was one thing to suspect, and another to know for certain.

Telford holds his hands out in an open gesture. “You blew up at me, remember? It seemed like an overreaction, so I asked Amanda about you. She told me that you’d just lost your wife. I was only looking for some fun with you, and knowing you were grieving I decided to give up my Starbucks campaign to seduce you into letting me fuck you. Or you fuck me. I’m an equal opportunity kind of guy. I could tell she had strong feelings for you, not that you ever seemed to notice.”

“Why me?” he wonders aloud, and then wishes he’d kept his mouth shut as Telford gives him a smirk.

“Why was I interested or why was she? Probably she valued you for yourself; I was more shallow. You’re cute, Nick, and smart and a smart ass. That combination just clicks for me.”

He makes a strangled sound. He bloody well abhors being thought of as cute.

Telford chuckles. “Oh, even after I gave up on getting you into bed, if you hadn’t been such a pain in the ass, I’d have kept trying to get you to be – what did you call them, the scientists who are loyal to me? Pets? They aren’t, you know. Pets imply a master and my relationship with certain scientists is more along, you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.”

Rush glares at him. “They all but wag their tail for you.”

Telford straightens and glares right back at him. “Wow. That was cold, Rush. And I think you know the difference between actually being someone’s pet and having a friend looking out for your interests, just like they look out for yours. Kiva taught you all about being her pet.”

Rush shut down his monitor. Bloody Telford, damn him for bringing up the truth. He had been Kiva’s pet and he’d have done more than wag his tail to keep her from hurting him anymore.

He tries to push past Telford, but the man catches his arm. “Crap. Look, that was out of line, and I’m sorry. I came here to give you my condolences, not to give you shit about Kiva.”

“Let go.” Telford is a big man, strong. He can feel panic wanting to rise up, and sweat breaks out on his skin.

Telford sighs and mutters something under his breath that Rush can’t decipher. He says, more clearly, “I will, but I don’t want us leaving on worse terms than when I came in. I owe you. I’m not trying to bug you.”

“And yet. . .” he sneers. He’ll be damned if he lets himself show fear.

“You make it hard not to jab back when you poke at me. Look, can’t we start over? When I met you, I genuinely liked you. I admire a lot of things about you, always have. You’re a lot of work, but if Everett can make a friend of you, there’s hope for you and me.” Telford lets go then, backs out into the corridor. “Consider it, okay? I’m part of this crew too, now. We may be on this ship for years, might as well get along.”

He leans against the wall, studies Telford, and feels the panic draining away, leaving him feeling both jittery and tired. Does he want something from Rush, other than to not owe him anymore? It seems unlikely. Nicholas Rush is persona non grata with Homeworld Command. Telford has more influence with Colonel Young than Rush will ever have, since they’re old friends. There’s no one he can think of that Telford might want him to put in a good word for him. He’s always been cosy with Camile, no need there for his help.

Well, then. Why not ask?

“What is it you want from me?” He looks up at Telford.

Telford spreads his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I want you to know that I’m sorry for Amanda Perry’s death. I know she meant a lot to you, and I liked her, too. Maybe I just wanted to share that with someone who cared for her.”

“How do I know you’re being sincere?”

Telford rolls his eyes. “Can’t help you there, cowboy. You either trust I’m being honest, or you don’t. I’ll say it again, Nick. I liked you once. Be nice if we could get along. And I owe you. You saved my life, twice. That means something to me.”

“This isn’t another attempt to collect me?”

Telford’s lips curve into another bloody grin. “You’re too ornery and unpredictable for that. Besides, there’s no damn coffee on board to bribe you with.”

He laughs at that, surprising himself. “Ah, well. I’ll think on it. Good night, Colonel.”

“Before you go, I brought you something.” He steps further back into the corridor and returns before Rush has hardly gotten clear of the door.

“I noticed you didn’t drink anything tonight. So I brought you this. For Amanda. Let’s toast to her memory.” He hands Rush one of the metal mugs that serve as bar glasses and clinks his own against it.

“To Dr. Perry. She was one of the good ones.”

“Aye. To Mandy.” He throws down the moonshine in one long swallow and Telford does the same.

“C’mon. We both need sleep,” and Telford takes the empty mug from his hand.

Thank fuck Telford has the sense to keep quiet as they head to their sleeping quarters. He gives a nod to Rush when they part ways, and Rush nods back.

He’ll think about what Telford said.

* * *

Mandy’s memorial was held a week after her death. Camille had asked him if he wanted to attend the ceremony on Earth.

He never liked attending memorials, and if he went he couldn’t say who he really was to Mandy’s few relatives. He recalled some cousins, and an elderly great aunt she’d mentioned.

Telford makes a point of telling him that if he uses the stones to go, he can expect to have to answer to the IOP, and if there was anyone they were willing to experiment with for permanent body exchange, it’s him.

He stays on board, and the robot cuts free the disabled engine the next day.

Nothing happens. The FTL simply doesn’t engage. The chatter about the problem amongst the Science Team irritates him to no end, so he takes himself off to see Chloe and lay out their difficulties for her.

The girl is pale, and here and there on her skin he can see where the cells are mutating into blue patches. She’s staring at the wall covered in equations from earlier problems he’s given her to work when he comes inside her cell.

There’s something uncanny about her eyes when she turns to look at him. An alien look that she blinks away when she recognizes him.

“Doc. There’s a problem with the FTL, isn’t there? Matt told me the damaged drive was cast off, and that was hours ago. We should have jumped already.”

“Aye, we tried. We’re looking into the code, as we’ve deduced that’s the difficulty. Eli thinks that the bloody ship has made this into one of his useless games that we’ll be forced to play.” He waves his hands, annoyed all over again. “Solve a series of math problems before being allowed to engage the drives.” He gets out his small battered notebook from his back pocket and flips it open.

“Like the challenges in the game you devised that Eli figured out back on Earth.” Chloe watches as he begins chalking out equations on a different section of her cell walls. He’s already given her his work on how to plot a course for Destiny, and stopping the fuckin’ clock, and he sees she’s about where he is on the solutions.

“Yes, yes, like what I was forced to devise for the SGC to scout for talent. Blasted riddles.” He slides the notebook back into his jeans pocket.

Chloe looks thoughtfully at the new equations. “The Ancients liked riddles. On Atlantis, they were always protecting areas or research that way. And didn’t SG1 have to pass tests in order to get into Merlin’s stash?”

“Aye. So we’re being tested, that’s your theory, too?”

Chloe tucks her long loose hair behind an ear. “The ship learned all about you, didn’t it, when you sat in the chair? It could have gotten the whole testing thing from you. Or since it was designed by Ancients, and we altered the default settings with the FTL, this is the ship’s way of examining us to see if we’re worthy of being here? What about the mission, you told me that needs deciphering too?”

He sighs. “Bloody Ancients. Ah, well, maybe it’s both. See what you can make of this, lass. I’m off to do the same.”

She smiles at him. “You’re going off to your math workspace, aren’t you?”

“Between Brody and Volker and Park and Eli and Ginn chattering like a troop of monkeys, I can’t get a thing done on the Bridge.”

“Don’t forget your radio,” she teases, and he wishes with all his heart that the Nakai had not violated her with their DNA. Bad enough the kidnapping and torture they’d endured, but to know that he was losing her to them?

There’s nothing he can do for her, except what he’s been doing. Give her the work. They’ve changed her, the bastards, but she can use what they’d done, help the crew, help herself, maybe.

If nothing else, he’s given her the mathematics to keep her mind off her fate.

Chloe wouldn’t want his pity. He shoves down his feelings, as he’s done so many times, and projects the exasperation he knows she’s expecting.

“Yes, yes. You’re starting to sound like Colonel Young,” he complains, but he pats his side to make sure he does have the ruddy thing, and takes her leave for his math corridor. He’s never calling it his ‘Hall of Mighty Math.’”

* * *

He stares at the equations he’d scrawled on the wall, hand tucked under his chin, gently tapping it, his thoughts on the math having a thousand percent of his attention. He was aware of where he was, but not of time passing. Sometimes, he would take the chalk and scrawl more problems onto the wall, or fill in blanks as answers came to him.

“Nicholas,” a voice says, and he understands that his name has been repeated for quite some time now. “Nicholas, darling.”

Gloria stands at his side, hair up in an elegant twist, wearing the expensive clothing she donned for formal affairs her position in the symphony required her to attend.

She looks cool and detached, but her voice is warm. “Nicholas,” she repeats.

He feels disoriented, leaving that mental space where creativity flows and intuition flowers. “What is it, love?” he says.

“Nicholas, you’re needed.”

“What?” It’s the AI, he tells himself. Only the AI. Not his wife, not his love.

“You forgot to charge your radio. Colonel Young is trying to reach you.”

“Why, what’s happening?”

Gloria shimmers, seems to change from the image of his wife, although her features are the same. “The Nakai are coming. Tell Colonel Young if someone is directly connected with Destiny through the Neural Interface Chair, they can control the FTL. Whoever does so, though, will risk what Dr. Franklin did.”

“Are you stopping us from jumping? Testing us?” he asks sharply. “Gloria, answer me!”

“Destiny requires data. You are not Ancients, although you, Nicholas, are their distant child. Destiny was designed for Ancients to lead the mission. There are no Ancients who have survived, so Destiny must decide to share the mission or not with this human crew.”

“You’re testing us? With the Nakai? You’re gonna force someone to sit in the chair, like Franklin did? Going to convert his body, entwine it with your circuits?” He feels shocked, although he shouldn’t. Blast the Ancients. Ascended or extinct, still making him dance to their tune through the AI they’d programmed.

“Many rivers flow to the sea.” She disappears just as Greer comes running around the corner.

“Doc! Move your ass, man, cause we got trouble!”

* * *

Chapter 21: Out of Time

Rush hustles onto the Bridge like his feet are on fire, and Everett beckons him close to where he’s conferring with Eli at the long range sensors station.

The man is panting, sweat dotting his hairline. He catches Everett’s eye and Everett feels something loosen inside of him. This is bad, the Nakai popping up finally, just like in his damned dreams, but Rush is with him. Rush is on his side; it’s plainly written in his expression and in his eyes. He feels hope breaking through the depression that’s been dragging him down.

His chief scientist is a conniving, creative genius, no matter how he protests that it’s Eli who’s the genius, not him. Rush will come up with something to save their asses.

“Eli,” Rush snaps. “How long do we have?”

Eli comes out of whatever math trance he’d put himself into. “Thirty hours, possibly more if they drop their speed.”

“What if they go back into FTL? They could appear right next to us!” Everett throws out, but Rush just shakes his head.

“No, no. They wouldn’t.”

He needs a better answer than that from Rush but just then Greer dashes into the room; even from a distance Everett catches the eye roll he gives when he sees Rush standing there, next to him and Eli. He’s out of breath and just points to Rush.

“I see you left Greer in the dust,” Everett mutters, amused despite the seriousness of their situation. Maybe he’s just becoming inured to the danger living on this ship invites. Another way for them all to perish? Must be a day that ends in ‘Y.’

“Did I?” Rush says, distracted, motioning towards the corridor. “Colonel, we need to talk. I know how we can restart Destiny’s FTL.”

* * *

The lights are dimmer in the corridor, but not so dim that he can’t see every expression on Rush’s stubbled face. Everett listens as Rush outlines their options and feels a sense of resigned peace when he understands that if he sits in the chair and orders the FTL to work, they’ll escape and be safe. He’ll be like Franklin, disembodied, but his little girl will be safe, the crew will be safe, and David will finally have what he’s wanted for so long.

Rush stops speaking and narrows his eyes at him. “Colonel,” he says, a warning in his voice. “That would be a last choice and don’t think you’ll be sitting in the chair. We need you here, not wandering like a damn ghost through the ship’s circuits.”

“I wouldn’t ask someone else to give up their life,” Everett firmly tells him. “David can take over for me.”

“No!” Rush insists. “You’ll not give in to your damn suicidal impulses. Hell, Telford can do it.”

“Rush.” The soothing quality of his tone surprises Everett. Is he actually trying to comfort this man? Well, seems he is.

“Or Volker could.”

That cuts short the tender feelings that had escaped him. He snorts instead. “Nick, cut it out. And you need Volker, stop being an ass about him.”

“I need you.”

The look on Rush’s face after he utters that? Everett doesn’t have the words to describe all the emotions that flash across his chief scientist’s face.

“Didn’t know you were going to say that, did you?” he says gently, because right now Rush looks stricken and poised to run.

Rush only shakes his head.

“Do you mean it?” He thinks it only fair to let Rush have the opportunity to take it back.

Rush narrows his eyes at him again. “Yes. I’m not going to make it easy on you to leave us, Colonel. I do need you and so does your wee lass and her mother and all of the crew.”

“What about the greater good?”

A stubborn look settles on Rush’s face. “Yes, well, but it doesn’t have to be you! And it’s not going to come to that, because we’re going to find a way around using the chair. We’ll solve the blasted problems Destiny has set for us to do.”

He starts to pace, and in a tone of voice that sounds pre-Kiva, demands. “I want Eli, Chloe, Park, Ginn, and yes, Volker, and we’re going to solve these damn obstacles. Also, let’s bring in the talent from Earth. Not Teleford’s people though. I want the best from the program.”

“I can’t let Chloe out of her cell.”

Rush throws his hands up a little and snaps, “Fine, we’ll work from there.”

“Get started then. I’ll have Camile use the stones, see who she can bring on board.”

Rush steps past him, but Everett holds him in place by a grip on his bicep. “Wait. Explain why the Nakai won’t use FTL to jump closer to us.”

Rush stares at him and then taps the side of his head, and Everett remembers the communication device Rush had motioned for him to put to his temple when he was in the body of one of the Nakai. “I took in a great deal about the Nakai and their systems when you switched back to your own flesh and blood. They won’t jump.”

“That’s not a good enough answer.”

Rush’s eyes flash. “We’re wasting time. Trust me, their ships’ drives won’t allow it. I could explain the physics of it, but you’d still not understand and we’ve got a deadline.”

He lets go and Rush marches himself onto the Bridge. If Rush is wrong Everett will sit in the chair because the Nakai are not going to board this ship. His daughter is not going to end up a Nakai-human hybrid. Chloe’s father gave up his life to save her; Everett knows he would do the same thing, and in a heartbeat.

A gaggle of chattering scientists push past him, his chief scientist herding them into the corridor. Rush turns and gives him a hard stare, walking backwards, then goes on his way, his team with him.

Everett radios Camile, explains what Rush needs from Earth. He steps inside the Bridge and pulls Brody aside from where Rush has left him minding the ship and lets him know that if the Nakai are within firing or boarding distance, he’s to ignore Rush’s orders and ready the chair for Everett, and only Everett, to sit in it.

* * *

Camile scores by getting both Carter and McKay to join the whiz kids for the next twenty-four hours. It’s all the time the two can spare. He checks in on the scientists. Only Eli, Chloe, McKay, and Volker are in Chloe’s room. Rush took Ginn and Park and Carter down to the math corridor, Eli tells him, because they were falling over each other in Chloe’s room. McKay, who traded with Becker, gives him a distracted wave and returns to chalking symbols high on the wall. It must be strange for McKay, who was tall enough in his own body, to be even taller in Becker’s giant frame.

Eli rolls his eyes in McKay’s direction. In a low voice, he says, “He argued that he counted for two when we divided up, but the rest of us told him he was full of it. You know, Rush looks actually humble compared to McKay’s ego.”

“Rodney McKay does deliver, though,” Everett points out, equally quietly. “Believe it or not, he was more arrogant before he went to the Pegasus galaxy. Being on a team with Shepard mellowed him out, I’ve heard.”

“We’ve got bets on which team figures the four problems out first,” Eli says, projecting so everyone in the room hears him. “One bet per problem, of course.”

“And if your teams wins, what do you get?” Everett asks, skeptical that Rush agreed to go along with this.

“For one bet, all the music from Rush’s Ipod, which he never has shared with any of us,” Chloe says, looking mischievous. It’s a relief to see her this way, working with the others as if the genetic changes they all can see don’t matter. “If we win the second one, he has to dance with each of us for a whole song. And we get to pick what kind of dancing and the song. I haven’t decided between a waltz or swing dancing.”

Everett raises an eyebrow.

Chloe smiles angelically at him. “I don’t think Doctor Rush was paying attention to that part of the deal, actually, but we’ve got witnesses that he agreed.”

Volker shrugs his shoulders when Everett looks at him. “What? I was thinking of doing the Limbo.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you guys to it. Keep me informed of your progress.”

He strides out and goes to check on Team Rush’s progress. If they pull this off, the crew deserves a hell of a party.

Carter looks up from where she and Ginn are discussing something about complex numbers. James switched with her, and Carter distractedly tucks James’ long black hair behind her ear. “Colonel,” she says acknowledging his presence.

“Colonel,” he says back. “Glad the George Hammond could spare its commander for a day.”

“Happy to help, Everett.” Her eyes flick over to where Rush is staring at the wall covered with math symbols. He moves quickly and fills in a blank area, than steps back and closes his eyes. “He’s close to solving that one.”

Everett watches, fascinated, as Rush opens his eyes and decisively adds another symbol that looks vaguely familiar to Everett. He nods his head, and turns to Carter, starts a little as he sees Everett standing there. “Colonel Carter, please check my math.”

“Sure,”and Carter walks over obligingly. Rush confers with her in low tones, then jogs away as Carter starts chalking out the proof in a bare section of nearby wall.

He looks over the work Ginn is doing, then Park’s calculations. His murmuring is too low for Everett to hear, but Park erases some of her work and rechalks it. He gives her an encouraging pat on the shoulder and stretches before joining Everett.

“God, I wish I had some coffee,” he tells Everett. “I’m off to take a quick lap around the ship, recharge my brain. Then I want to see how Eli’s group is doing.”

“Have you eaten?”

Rush shakes his head. “No,”

“Have they?” Everett nods his head toward the women working on the walls.

“Yes, they stopped at the Mess after we separated into teams. I came here, got to work.” Rush shifts from foot to foot, obviously feeling wound up.

“Okay,” Everett says. “Take your run and then meet me at my quarters. I’ll have some sandwiches or something for you. Can’t get you coffee, but I’ll have some of that awful tea you like.”

“You don’t have to, Colonel. I’m no starving.“

“I want to, and you do need to eat. I think we’ve established you don’t do well when you’re hungry and exhausted. Remember your ten hour nap after you passed out?”

Everett smirks at him, but actually, it was one of the first times that he’d looked at Rush as something more than a pain in his ass. The slight, brilliant loner whose earlier attempts to butter up the brass by stamping down his natural arrogance into something actually cringe worthy when you watched him was someone he was also responsible for, on this dark, derelict ship they’d found themselves stranded on. Someone who had vulnerabilities, even if he tried his damnedest not to show any of them.

Rush scowls at the reference to his spectacular collapse. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Not planning on it. It was pretty enlightening to realize you were actually human after all.” He grins more companionably at Rush, and really, he gets such a kick out of teasing the guy. Rush’s look of exasperation at him is pure gold.

Everett just keeps on smiling, and it’s not even a grin anymore, it’s an honest smile, because he likes this man. Difficult genius, hardworking and driven, he’s missed their chess games, placed on hiatus till the FTL is fixed. Maybe if he does end up sort of dying in the chair, he can still play chess with the guy when Everett’s joined up with Destiny.

* * *

 

The radio wakes him. “Colonel Young, this is Barnes. Come in. We’ve got a situation on our hands.”

Thank God he hadn’t fallen into temptation last night, had left the moonshine alone. The only slur in his voice as he answers Barnes is from the hold sleep still has on him.

Her news finishes yanking him totally awake.

Rolling out of bed, he orders her to get Rush to the stones room ASAP, even if it means telling Greer to break into his room and yank the man out of bed.

* * *

”Okay, Corporal,” Everett tells Barnes. “Go over what happened again.” They’re in the dimly lit stones room, and the only sign that Barnes is even remotely disturbed is the slightest widening of her dark eyes from their normal, ‘I don’t take any crap, so don’t even bother’ look.

“Yes, sir,” she snaps out. “Per the standing orders, we had a volunteer ready to swap with anyone trying to make contact from Earth. Camile took Airman Kelley’s place, who was on the scheduled rotation, because of the situation with the Nakai.”

Camile, who looks shaken, but determined, adds, “That’s correct. I wanted to keep the IOA informed as well as Homeworld Command.”

If she’d been military, he would have dressed her down for interrupting a status report, but she’s a civilian and he makes allowances for them. “That’s fine, Camile. Let the Corporal give her report, then I want to hear how things seemed to you.” Nodding towards Barnes, he says, “Continue.”

“Camile initialized the stones and was just sitting quietly. After about an hour and a half, she dozed off. I didn’t see any reason not to let her sleep, so I didn’t wake her up.” She shrugs. “She’s a civilian, sir.”

Everett understands the unspoken rest of Barne’s observation. If it had been one of the military ready to switch on the stones, Barnes would have kicked them awake.

He gestures with a slight movement of his right hand for her to continue.

Barnes looks at Camile. “She hadn’t been in maybe light sleep for more than a minute or two, when her eyes popped open. She sat up straighter in the chair and looked around, like she wasn’t sure where she was. I figured she was just a little out of it because of falling asleep, but then she looked at me and said, ‘Corporal Barnes? I’m on Destiny?’ I said, ‘Yeah, are you Camile or are you from Earth?’”

Camile breaks in. “It wasn’t me, Colonel, but I hadn’t switched with anybody at Homeworld Command. I remember feeling sleepy, but that’s it.”

Barnes continues in her matter of fact tone. “She said, ‘I’m Dr. Perry. What happened? I had switched with Ginn.’ She looked in that mirror,” and Barnes points at the small mirror that stays on the table so people who swap can see what they look like, “and she said, ‘I’m in Camile’s body now? I don’t remember exchanging with her. What about the damaged engine?’”

Everett hears a small sound escape from Camile and turns to look at her. Her eyes look bewildered. “Colonel Young? What’s happening? I must have blacked out for a moment. Where’s Nick? Oh, there he is.”

Everyone in the room glances to the door as the man in question runs into the room. His hair is tousled and the black jacket that Everett had given him is only partly buttoned up, hanging too loose on his thin shoulders, exposing most of his chest. He’s not wearing a T-shirt, and his pants are the loose yoga type ones he’d worn after Kiva had destroyed his own clothes, before they took back the ship. His feet are bare.

The woman who is using Camile’s body smiles in relief at the sight of him. “Nick, something’s not right. I’m loosing time, apparently. Weren’t we in Ginn’s quarters?”

Rush’s eyes are huge as he steps forward and takes Camile’s hand. He seems unable to speak, so Everett asks the question for him.

“Please identify yourself.” He reaches out and puts a hand on Rush’s shoulder. He knows what Barnes told him over the radio; he’s not sure if Barnes or Greer had told Rush the same thing.

“I’m Dr. Amanda Perry. Nick?”

Rush gives out a heartbroken sob. “Mandy?” Everett tightens his hand on Rush’s shoulder.

“Yes, it’s me. I don’t know when I switched with Camile. What’s the matter?”

She looks bewildered again and Everett can empathize. He looks into Rush’s face, sees the tears starting to flood his eyes, sees how he’s fighting against releasing them. “Corporal, outside. Wait in the corridor.”

Barnes looks relieved at that order, in her own deadpan way. “Yes, sir.” She scoots out the door in record time, jabbing at the controls to close it and give them privacy.

Rush brings Camile’s hand up to his lips, kisses it and he’s crying now, the tears having won that battle. It would be beyond cruel to let him be the one to tell Amanda Perry that she was dead. Or at least that her body had died. This is his job to do.

“Dr. Perry,” he begins. “I want you to brace yourself.” She looks up at him where she’s still seated at the small table. “There was a choking accident when you were switched with Ginn. It triggered a heart attack. We thought you had transferred back into your body. Amanda, we all thought you had died.”

The shocked look on Camile’s face gives way to one of utter desolation. “I’m, I’m dead? No, no, no, no, no!”

“There was a memorial on Earth. It’s been over a week since the accident. I’m very sorry, Dr. Perry. I’m guessing your consciousness did not return to your body, although Ginn’s returned to hers.” He sees Dr. Perry’s hand tighten around Rush’s fingers. He continued, “Camile had initialized one of the stones; she was waiting to swap with someone from Homeworld Command, and she dozed off. Then you made your first appearance and told Barnes who you were. Then Camile came back and you were gone, We talked with Camile, then you took over again.”

Rush lets go of Dr. Perry and wipes his eyes with both hands, and says, raggedly, “You’re sharing Camile’s body, Amanda. There’s a lot we don’t understand about the stones. Camile’s mind had let down her defenses when she fell asleep, perhaps, and you were able to engage. We don’t know for how long your consciousness will be able to be here or if you can keep sharing Camile’s body. Can you hear Camile? Feel her at all?”

Dr. Perry had been at Stargate Command a long time. She seemed to be taking in the news of her demise and current status better than most people would, Everett thought, probably due to her exposure with the weird crap that happened all the time with the different teams.

She took a deep breath. “I don’t hear or feel Camile. So, my consciousness might have suppressed hers?”

Rush nods, and a fresh batch of tears escape. She touches his wet cheek, and takes a deep breath, steels herself. “Nick, don’t cry. I’ve known since I woke up from my accident that my body was going to give out someday from my injuries. I’ve been living on borrowed time for decades. I don’t want to die, of course. But I don’t want to take Camile’s life away from her. I’m not going to be some kind of parasite. I’m going to try and let Camile come back. Then you should disconnect the stone.” Voice breaking, she adds, “That should end this.”

“No, I no want to lose you again!” Rush pulls her up out of the chair and hugs her tightly. Everett lets go of his grip on the man.

She hugs him back, and then kisses him gently on the lips. “I want you to take care of yourself, Nicholas Rush. Don’t keep turning away friendship when it’s offered to you, okay?”

He nods against her. She closes her eyes and after a moment her expression slackens. Then her eyes open up and she startles to find herself wrapped in Rush’s arms.

“Camile?” Everett asks and is not surprised when she nods. She pats Rush on the back and gently pushes back from him, gaining back her personal space.

“Yes, it’s Camile Wray. Colonel, did Dr. Perry come back again?”

“Yes.” He quietly picks up the stone and sets it back on the base. “Camile, I want someone to be with you at all times, at least for the next few days. Dr. Perry thought wiping the stone would stop her from taking over your body again, but really, we don’t know if that will work or not.”

Camile sits down in the chair heavily, then looks up at Rush. “Nicholas, I’m so very sorry.”

He nods, and then steps toward the door. He stops before hitting the controls, and scrubs at his eyes and cheeks. “Colonel,” he says, his voice rough with tears.

“I’ll let you know if Dr. Perry returns, Nick. Go back and get some sleep.”

Rush shakes his head. “I can’t sleep, not now. I’ll join the others working on Destiny’s math puzzles. We’ve been sleeping in shifts, so I’ll let one of the others get some rest.”

“Okay. Okay, Nick. I’ll come by later, see how things are going.” He feels an enormous wave of sympathy for the man, who looks tired, and drained, and more than a little lost. “I’ll bring you some tea.”

Rush gives him a sad little smile at that, and nods.

He’s out the door, then, and Everett makes a call to TJ. For now, he wants Camile to be checked out head to toe, and to stay in the infirmary. TJ can let him know if Dr. Perry makes another reappearance.

* * *

Everett decides he’ll make good on his promise of delivering tea to not only Rush, but to all of the exhausted scientists working in Chloe’s room and the math corridor. He also stirs up some protein mush and throws in pretty much the last of the dried fruit he and Rush had picked on that one planet into the unappetizing mess. Gathering bowls and cups and spoons and a tray, he thinks about the little expedition to the fruit trees and the panic attack that he’d helped Rush avert.

Rush is counting on him to do that again, to keep the guy grounded as another panic attack tries to take him down.

He might not be able to keep his promise to help Rush get over his terror of coming near the Mess. They are running out of time and only one of the four problems has been solved. It’s looking more likely that he’ll have to sit in the chair and give Destiny the order to go into FTL.

Eli is asleep on the bed when Everett hands out the pitiful snack he brought to Chloe’s room, but even though Everett was quiet something must have disturbed the young man because he sits up in bed abruptly and mumbles, “Lambda.”

Chloe laughs. “He must have been dreaming about what dance to pick if we win the bet on that problem.” She points to the symbols and numbers scrawled on the wall, the one Volker is staring at intensely. He looks exhausted and his usually neat grooming has gone out the window, with his bedhead hair and his shirt untucked from his pants.

Eli slurs out, “Lambdas dancing the Lambada.” His eyes are open but sleep fogged. Everett dismisses what he’s saying as just sleepy nonsense, but Volker suddenly chalks new symbols into the equation.

“Holy Crap!” Volker slides out, sounding hopeful and a bit amazed. He waves McKay over. “McKay, you’re better than I am, see if using the Dirichlet Lambda function here,” he points to where he’d put in the new symbols, “brings us through this step.”

McKay trots over and waves Volker out of his way. “Yes!!” he crows as he starts to rapidly add more and more math symbols and numbers. “Wake up Wonder Boy over there. I think he’s just pulled a Benzene dream out of his as- uh, subconscious.“

Eli had flopped back down and was breathing deeply and slowly. Volker shakes him awake, and Chloe joins McKay. When McKay pauses, crosses his arms and glares at the problem, Chloe takes the chalk from him and as if in a trance, her eyes focused on something beyond this ship, finishes McKay’s equation.

Volker and Eli stand behind Chloe; everyone in the room watches her work. No one is talking. It’s eerie, the way she’s smoothly finishing the problem as easily as Everett could use calculus to figure a fighter jet’s trajectory.

Volker’s radio cackles and he steps away to answer it. Eli scrubs at his face, and when Chloe finally steps back from the problem, he puts an arm around her and hugs her. The touch seems to bring her back from whatever Math planet she’d been on, and she looks a bit surprised to see a stick of homemade chalk in her hand. McKay snatches it from her and mutters, “I’ll do the proof, but this is right, I can feel it.” He starts on the nearby section of gray wall, and soon symbols are covering the surface.

“Congratulations,” Volker calls to the group, from where he’s stepped away with the radio. “And Carter and Ginn got the third problem.”

Eli yawns. “Three down, one to go. And hey! We rock! And we won this bet. Way to go, Math Team. Man, wait till Rush realizes he’s gonna have to make good on dancing. I’m gonna film it with the kinos and enjoy it to the end of my days. Which hopefully won’t be tomorrow.”

Volker claps Eli on the back. “And all thanks to you and your dream.”

“Huh?” Eli turns around, yawns again. “What dream?”

Volker raises his eyebrows in surprise, “You don’t remember? You woke up and said the Lambdas were dancing the Lambada. When you took your nap, we were all stuck on the problem. I put in the function when you said that, and it all fell into place after that. Just like Kekule and his dream of a snake biting its own tail.” Volker looks at Everett, and says, probably figuring that a military guy wouldn’t know what he was talking about, “Kekule had been working on the carbon structure of Benzene. His dream made him realize that rings of carbon comprised Benzene.” Everett knew the story, though.

Eli shakes his head. “Some people think he just made that up.”

Chloe says, “I heard that a brilliant mathematician from India in the early 1900s, someone who hadn’t had much formal training, used to wake up with solutions to his problems. I don’t remember his name, though.”

“Srinivasa Ramanujan,” McKay throws out. “His work was brilliant, visionary, really. Before he died of T.B- what an appalling waste of a genius -- he left some enigmas that actually relate to black hole theories. Of course, nobody in his time or for decades after that, understood how that could be applied.”

McKay looks at Becker’s watch, and then announces. “Sorry, group. My time is up. Good luck on figuring out the last problem, since Carter and I need to go. You’re going to need it, without us around.”

Everett hides a smile at the irked expressions on the other three. “McKay, you’re with me.” He picks up the tray with the snacks and tea for the other team, and McKay follows him to the door.

“Bye, Rodney,” Eli calls out, in a sardonic tone. “We’ll try to carry on without you.”

McKay waves a hand as he walks away, acknowledging Eli’s comment without turning around. Probably, Everett guesses, he never even noticed Eli was being sarcastic.

* * *

TJ radios him after he’s delivered the goodies to Rush’s team and has collected Colonel Carter and walked both McKay and her back to the stones’ room, thanking both of them for their assistance. They had replaced their stones on the device, and Becker and James return to their own bodies. He gives them permission to rest, but upon hearing that the Nakai will be upon them in the next few hours, they ask instead for orders.

He sends them to see Matthew and Telford, who have been running drills with the military to repel the Nakai if they board. He’ll join them, but first, he wants to see his baby girl. There will not be time later, if they are invaded by the blue aliens.

The message from TJ has him changing course for the Infirmary. When he arrives, he can tell it’s Dr. Perry who is using Camile’s short, trim body. Odd how features that are identical can look so different when another personality is living in that physical space.

“I want to help, Colonel Young,” Dr. Perry’s eyes are pleading with him to not deny her, to force her to stay in the Infirmary “I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but please, let me help Nick and the others solve the problems Destiny has given them.”

He glances at TJ. She looks exhausted, but she shrugs with a little smile. “She’s medically cleared, and Camile had said if Dr. Perry took over again, that we should ask if she’d help with the math problems Destiny gave us.”

“Okay,” he says. “Dr. Perry, you can help Rush and the others, but TJ, I want you there, with your kit, in case something goes wrong. I’ll meet you in the Math hall.”

* * *

He joins up with TJ and Dr. Perry in the corridor leading to Rush’s Math haven and escorts them inside it. Dr. Perry hurries over to Rush, and Everett has to shake his head at his younger self, for ever, ever thinking that it was impossible to know what Rush was thinking or feeling, because these days Rush’s body language is crystal clear to him. Or, maybe, Rush has stopped being so guarded when Everett’s around.

At any rate, the painful joy on his face when Dr. Perry says his name makes his own heart clench a little. He catches TJ’s eye and they move off to have a private conversation.

“I want to see Carmen,” he tells her, and it’s understood between them, from the kind and insightful look TJ gives him, that it might be for the last time.

She nods. “Dr. Inman is babysitting in my quarters.” Dr. Inman takes care of Carmen a lot, when TJ has duties. She’s raised four children, all in their twenties, and looks a decade younger than she actually is. Everett’s always wondered about that. Seems to him that anybody who had four teenagers at the same time should look a decade older, not younger. She’s been a good crewmember, working well with Becker to try to make their bland protein slush more favorable. She was only on Icarus for a temporary assignment, to cover while Dr. Cao had an extended leave due to her mother dying of bone cancer, but she’s accepted her fate with more grace than a lot of other crew members.

TJ presses a hand against her chest and a thoughtful look crosses her face. ‘Bring Carmen to me when she starts to fuss. She’s going to want to nurse.”

* * *

He holds his sleeping daughter on his lap and wonders if he’ll love her still if his consciousness is uploaded into Destiny. From what Rush has told him, Dr. Franklin came across as detached, although willing to help Rush with the technical problems he was struggling with when Rush was learning the Bridge systems. Although, Rush did tell him that Dr. Franklin had expressed concern that what he was trying do do was too much for one man. Rush said that Franklin had warned him he was making mistakes out of exhaustion.

Dr. Franklin hadn’t appeared for a while now. Rush gathered from their last conversation that their old crewmember was engaged in a research project of his own, although he’d hinted to Rush it was something that he’d find very interesting.

Franklin and Rush had worked together fairly well, Everett thought. Rush had been quite confident of the man’s abilities, but Franklin had seemed envious of Rush’s talents to Everett.

After rethinking things through, Everett had changed his mind, and now believes Rush hadn’t manipulated Franklin into sitting in the chair first. He thinks now that it’s likely that Franklin had been trying to steal Rush’s thunder by jumping the gun and sitting in the chair without the proper safeguards Rush and Brody had been working on. Still, the man had saved them from the Nakai by volunteering to sit in the chair, sparing Everett from doing it. Looks like his reprieve was up, though. He glances at his watch. Almost seven am, and by Eli’s calculation they had three hours left before the Nakai would be within firing range.

Maybe the shields will protect them for a while after the Nakai start bombarding them, but they wouldn’t have much time before the decision to sit in the chair had to be made.

He rocks his daughter and whispers to her promises he may never keep.

* * *

 

When Everett walks into the Math corridor, Carmen stretches her arms out to TJ, and her grumbling baby protests change gear into an outraged wail. TJ rolls her eyes and smiles at their child’s dramatics, takes her and walks her around the hall, soothing their daughter until she’s settled down. She sits down cross-legged on the floor far enough away for the illusion of privacy, as she breastfeeds Carmen.

Rush is talking to Camile. Everett is positive that it is Camile, but as he joins them, there’s a change in Camile’s expression, a frightened vulnerable look as she glances at Rush.

“Nick, what’s happening?” Dr. Perry asks. Rush takes her hand, and God, he looks anxious.

“Camile has agreed, Mandy,” he tells her. “I can make this work. The framework is already there, from Telford’s time in the chair. I just need to do some additional coding, and Brody and Eli can help. Trust me, love. I can make it work, I know I can.”

“Make what work?” Everett asks, practically into Rush’s ear.

Startled is much too tame a word for how Rush reacts. He manages to jump and whirl at the same time and something slides into his hand from under the rolled up cuff of the black uniform jacket he’s wearing.

Everett’s old jacket. You hardly saw Rush without it on. Everett’s hand snaps out and stops Rush from skewering him with what looks like a small screwdriver. Everett had known Rush used to conceal it, back when the Lucians had control of the ship. He hadn’t realized Rush still felt like he had to carry it for protection.

“Take it easy, Nick,” he says, and lets go. Rush tucks the screwdriver back into its hiding place and gives Everett a weary glare.

“And just wha’ are ye doin’ sneaking up like tha’ to me?” Rush demands and his voice is thick with his Scottish accent. It always deepens when Rush is bone tired and caught off guard.

“If you missed me carrying a squalling baby in here, that’s on you, pal. Now, what are you going to make work?” Everett demands, and makes sure his no nonsense tone conveys he expects some answers right the fuck now.

Camile answers. “Dr. Perry is getting weaker. She only can hold on for a few seconds before she’s gone again. Dr. Rush is afraid her – for want of a better term, her signal – is fading out and before long she truly will be lost. He has a solution and I’ve agreed to it.”

He feels irritated, as if the mutiny Rush and Camile cooked up just got a second wind. He tells himself to let it go. That was a long time ago; they’ve all put it behind them, and now they work as a team under his leadership.

His inner cynic gives a snort at that. Some leadership. Well, there’s always David to take over, if he gives himself up to Destiny.

“Colonel,” and damn if the wheedling tone to Rush’s voice doesn’t make every dormant suspicious bone in his body wake up. “We can use the chair to separate out Mandy’s consciousness and upload it to Destiny. I can make it work, I promise.”

Maybe he acts the way he does because he’s bone tired himself, because he blurts, “And what assurance do we have that you won’t upload Camile’s consciousness instead and blame Destiny?”

Rush stiffens in outrage. “You bloody bastard!” he says, and every syllable is snapped out like a pencil breaking in two. “You God damned bastard! I wouldn’t do that, but have it your way. Eli can check my coding. You do still at least trust him, don’t you?”

Abruptly his sour mood evaporates. “Nick, I’m sorry. That was out of line. Is this truly the only way to save Dr. Perry?”

“Yes,” and it’s Dr. Perry’s voice faltering. “Although it might not work at all. But please-”

Camile straightens up. “Colonel, I know the risks, and I’m willing.”

“All right. But let’s not lose sight of our priorities here. The Nakai will be upon us in about two hours. How’s that last problem coming? “

“Ask Eli’s team,” Rush mutters. “But it’s not solved, not yet.”

“Nick, I need you to focus on the math problem. Greater good, remember? Everyone on this ship is counting on you to figure this out.” He puts a hand on Rush’s shoulder, squeezes the tight muscle before letting him go.“You’ve got an hour and a half, then I’m going with Plan B. After we’ve jumped to safety, you and Eli can program the chair to separate out Dr. Perry and Camile.”

Rush gives him a wild, frustrated look. “You are not sitting in that chair, Colonel!”

“Then, genius, you’d better get to work. I’ll be in my quarters.” Maybe it was cowardly and selfish to want to spend his last hours alone without having to console friends and crew for his eminent loss, but he wants this time, needs this time to make sure he’s composed before taking his last walk through the ship. He doubts that there will be any last minute reprieve thanks to the Science Team. He tells himself that this will be better for the crew. Telford will be in charge, and he’s a good officer, a good man. He’s not likely to binge himself into drunken unconsciousness so he can go to sleep without the ghosts of his dead and the weight of his failures holding him back.

He walks away from this half of the Science Team, after wishing them good luck on their race to the solution. From the expressions on Park’s and Ginn’s faces, they don’t have much confidence they’ll beat the time constraint. Park hugs him, and Ginn kisses his cheek. They know what he’s going to have to do, when the clock runs out.

TJ is still sitting on the floor, Carmen over her shoulder as she pats the baby’s back. He doesn’t say anything to her, can’t, and really, wasn’t that a lot of the reason why their brief affair had died out? Squatting down, he cups the back of Carmen’s head tenderly.

Looking straight at him, TJ bites her lip, then says, “Okay. Okay, Everett.” She’s heard the conversation between Rush and him and Camile and Dr. Perry. She’s a good soldier, and while tears shine in her eyes, she’s not going to try and stop him. Instead, she salutes him. “Yes, sir,” she says, and he hears respect and caring in her tone.

Maybe not love, but then, their time together hadn’t been built on that, had it?

“You’re a good officer, Lieutenant, and a good mother. Take care of our girl.”

“Understood, sir.” Now a few tears are sliding down TJ’s cheek and he could wipe them off tenderly with his fingers, but he’s lost that right. Lost it long before Carmen was born, and TJ wipes her own tears with her free hand.

He stands and walks out, after a last glance at Rush and Camile. Rush notices and crosses his arms over his chest and gives Everett a furious glare. Camile smiles at him, and it’s resigned. He’ll miss her, and that does surprise him.

He radios Telford and Matthew, gives his last orders for them and asks for privacy. His conversation with his old friend is wry and full of understated meanings. He remembers the things David had said to him when he was still under Kiva’s influence, that he was attracted to Everett. If that had been the truth, David had decided to bury it with Everett, so to speak. Maybe once he has no body, he’ll ask David for the truth.

If he even can still communicate with the crew.

He checks in with the Bridge for a status report on the location of the Nakai.

They are coming closer, but Eli’s calculation seems to still be accurate.

He’s tempted to stop by Brody’s still, but he finds the backbone to ignore that craving. Greer falls into step with him, Lord knows how he found him, but he knows, it seems. They don’t say much, just some quiet words. Greer pulls himself to attention once they reach Everett’s quarters, and gives him his best salute. Everett watches him walk away and smiles at his back. Greer will be all right. All the crew will be, when Everett does what he needs to do.

But until then, just like when they thought they were all going to perish in a star, he will spend his final hour alone, writing out his last orders and expressing on paper the things he will not say to the people on board he cares about.

* * *

The knock on his door causes him to glance at his watch. Whoever this is, they’ll have to talk to him on the walk to the Neural Interface Chair. Time is up. He’d turned off his radio on purpose for his last hour as Destiny’s commander.

When the door opens Rush moves into the room. Everett raises his eyebrows. “Did you solve the problem?”
,
Rush shakes his head and steps close enough to Everett that he has to look up to meet his eyes. The close proximity makes him a little uneasy. “Nick?” he says, and wonders why Rush is here.

“I,” and Rush falls quiet. His eyes search Everett’s and the expression on his face seems conflicted. He says, a wry twist to his lips, “Well, better to ask forgiveness than permission,” and throws his arms around Everett’s neck drawing him down and then his lips are on Everett’s. He’s kissing him and God, he means it, his mouth on Everett’s, his arms tight around his neck.

Then he feels something stabbing into the back of his bicep, right through his T-shirt.

“Fuck,” he whispers, even as his legs turn to jelly and Rush’s embrace changes into shouldering his weight.

He can’t control his arms either, they fall away from Rush’s back and then he’s on his bed, Rush is lifting his legs, stuffing a pillow under his head and pulling off his shoes. He covers him with a blanket and says, “I’m sorry, Everett, but you left me no choice.”

Everett closes his eyes and the anger and annoyance and confusion he feels is being smothered by an unnatural drowsiness, and he wonders what the fuck did Rush give him during that kissing ambush.

Rush kissed him. Rush – Nick? Nicholas? Rush . . . why? What’s he up to, and what’s happening to his ship and crew now?

Lotta, a whole, whole lotta work, he tries to say, but all that he hears is a slurred mumble and then the drug wins this match and he’s out.

* * *

Chapter 22: Initiative

Rush races through Destiny’s corridors and pushes aside any thoughts on the consequences of what he’s just done to Colonel Young. It wasn’t necessary for the man to sacrifice himself for the greater good, and only sheer pigheadedness prevented the Colonel from seeing that Rush’s plan was the much better option. The fool will sleep off the venom stolen from the Infirmary and wake up – well, to probably want to choke him, but Rush will deal with the Colonel’s anger. He probably won’t choke him to death. Maybe he’ll arrange to avoid the man for a while. He’s not sure what the Colonel will shout about more, being saved or Rush kissing him as a distraction.

He enters the Neural Interface Room and sees that Camile is waiting next to the chair, arms hugging herself protectively. She glances at him, then looks past him. “Where’s the Colonel?” she says sharply.

Ah, yes. “Coming soon. He was waylaid by Lieutenant Scott and Colonel Telford. The Nakai will be in range within moments.” He gestures to the chair and strides over to the monitoring station. The laptop connected to it is on standby, the program to transfer Mandy’s consciousness checked and rechecked, and checked a third time by Eli. As if to punctuate his urgency, the ship rocks with what must be a hit on the shields. “Camile, we’ve no time to wait!”

Camile throws a determined, frightened look at him, then lowers herself into the chair, hands gripping the armrests. She blinks, and Mandy is there, looking at him, the room. “Nick,” she quietly says, “I’m ready.”

“Steady, love,” he says, as he enters the commands that will separate her from Camile. The wrist and ankle restraints snap into place, and Mandy loses consciousness as Destiny connects to her.

The ship shudders again with another hit, and then Mandy appears looking like herself and standing so close that he can’t help but reach out to grasp her hand. It’s still a shock when he feels nothing and the joyous expression on Mandy’s face changes to one he can’t decipher.

“It worked, Nick.” Tears appear in her eyes. “Oh, my God, Nicholas! I didn’t know. Oh, my God!” She looks at him with pity and horror. She whispers, “Kiva was a monster.”

He forces his attention from her to his laptop and his fingers dance over the keys, disengaging Camile from the ship. With a welcome quiver, Destiny jumps to safety.

When he looks back up, Mandy is gone.

* * *

Camile is rightly suspicious when she awakens in the chair and sees only him. “Where exactly is Colonel Young?”

He lifts up his chin in defiance. He had made the right decision; Camile has to see that. “We’ve jumped to safety. Mandy’s consciousness is separated from yours, just as I planned. She’s with the ship and can appear anywhere she likes. Destiny accepted her order to jump, since we fulfilled her requirements that a crew member had to sit in the chair and be uploaded. She never said that the crew member’s body had to be destroyed in the process.”

“Yes, I’m glad to hear the plan worked, but you said Colonel Young had agreed to it.” Her voice rises. “What did you do, Nicholas?”

He shrugs, avoids looking at her eyes. “He’s taking a well earned nap in his quarters. I’ll let you explain the success we’ve had.”

He leaves her standing with hands on hips and an exasperated expression. She’ll be contacting Colonel Telford and it would be best if he avoids the military for now.

Jogging along, he decides that it wouldn’t do to go to his quarters, the observation deck, Chloe’s room, or the math corridor. They’d look for him in those familiar places. He debates where to ride out the next day or so, till tempers cool, and remembers with a rush of emotion another time he had looked for a hiding place.

Yes. He’ll go there. With luck, he might be able to scrounge something to eat as well. Probably both Colonels will think he’s gone to ground somewhere in the unexplored sections of the ship. They won’t think to look in Hydroponics.

He’s been deliberately not thinking about Mandy and that she’s learned in a micro second what he’d been concealing from her for weeks. Or he had. He can’t stop his anguished thoughts any longer. He’d known, of course, that once Mandy was with Destiny she would have access to everything Destiny knew about the Lucian’s takeover, but like children shutting their eyes to make something unwanted disappear, he’d refused to allow himself to think on what that would mean for him.

Knowing what he’d become on that table has scared her away. Destiny would not only have the factual knowledge, the ship would have read his mind and the Lucian’s and the crew’s. Would Destiny have shared that, also? Could Mandy read the crew’s minds, like the ship could? Franklin had never said anything of the sort. But even if Mandy wasn’t given access to what Destiny had learned from eavesdropping on his mind, she would know that despite the torment and humiliation, he’d managed to orgasm. She would know that he’d given in and traded sex for food and water. He disgusted himself, no matter that he’d been drugged and desperate. He should have made himself die instead of cooperating with his own degradation.

No wonder Mandy couldn’t stand to be with him. He wasn’t worthy of her, of being her friend or a lover.

And to think that she had once been attracted to him, had kissed him so sweetly.

If she could retch, she’d no doubt be doing that and scrubbing her lips, trying to get the memory of that kiss forever erased.

His throat is closing with the effort of not crying, and his skin feels filthy. He needs a shower, needs one desperately. There’s water in Hydroponics, he’ll scrub himself clean somehow and hide. Lisa won’t give him away, if she finds him there. Everyone else, he’ll program to keep out.

He runs faster, his heart pounding furiously.

* * *

Using the console in Hydroponics, he writes a quick program so that Destiny will monitor the doors and keep them locked to anyone who is not its chief caretaker, Lisa Park. Luckily, no one else was inside when he’d entered. He showers using some sort of plant mister and a wee bit of a liquid cleaner he recognizes as the same lot that’s used in the showers and laundry facility.

It’s warm in here and bright with the artificial lights and he hand washes his clothes, wrapping up in a towel type material Lisa and the crew assigned to work here must use to dry their hands after working with the plants. Most of the plants are in a water system, but there’s a few beds of vegetables growing in actual dirt. Lisa is advocating for another large room to be filled with earthen beds. He wonders if they can grow other vegetables and if they can if they’d taste all right. The tomatoes they’ve grown are bitter fruit, indeed.

The tears he cried while cold water fell on his bare skin and trickled down in runnels to the deck threaten to overwhelm him once more, and he shudders with the effort to not break down again. He gives himself a stern talking to and manages to get himself back under control.

What had he expected with Mandy, anyway? A fairy tale ending? There’s no happily ever after for Mandy. She’s alive, in a sense, but has no body. He can’t touch her.

He misses her, though. He supposes she’s diving through Destiny’s records, perhaps even discovering the mission the ship was launched to complete. Lord knows it’s what he would do, if he was only alive courtesy of Destiny’s circuits. Perhaps, in time, she’ll overcome her initial horror over what had happened with the Lucians, be able to hide the disgust she must feel towards him and appear to him again. Mandy is a kind person; it’s not in her to deliberately hurt another human being. But shifting in her eyes from a colleague, a friend, someone she was open to having a relationship with perhaps, to, to, well, whatever he is now, damaged certainly, dirty, an object of revulsion and pity, it wounds him.

He doesn’t love easily. There had been a few close friends from childhood and early adulthood. His father, certainly, although he’s got quite the mixed feelings about the old man. All dead now, as well as the person he’d come to care for the most in his life. Gloria. He never imagined he could feel the stirrings of love again after she’d died, but Mandy had planted the seeds of it after he’d lost his wife by the compassion she’d shown him. So kind and brilliant. Little Miss Brilliant, he’d called her, and had felt warmed himself when she’d get flustered by the name.

Colonel Young’s friendship was a defiant resilient thing, being planted among the stony ground of betrayal and mistrust and attempted murder. Frankly, it’s been a bloody miracle that he and the Colonel for one, hadn’t killed each other, and for two, had managed to come to a place where they enjoyed each other’s company. There’s a part of him that had bonded with the man and he knows exactly when that happened. The Colonel had risked Kiva’s wrath to wrap Rush’s naked, filthy body in his own jacket, and had carried him away from the Mess, away from where leering eyes watched him, or other eyes turned away from his shame. Sometimes, in nightmares, he was being carried away from it all, only to realize that it wasn’t Colonel Young after all that was striding along, it was Dannic or Simeon or even Kiva herself and they were taking him back to the Mess, to strap him again to the table.

The Colonel knew everything that had happened to him, saw it happening in real time, not abruptly having it thrust on her like poor Mandy. He knew, he’d seen, hell, he’d had to fuck Rush in order to save him, he was part and parcel of the whole terrible business. Deep down, or well, actually not so deep, he trusted the Colonel. Mostly. Unless Rush had pushed him too far, then Rush’s fight or flight reflex took over. The Colonel can get angry with him. Very angry. Much more angry than with other crew members who defied him or his rules. Really, after the mutiny, he’d been quite calm about the whole thing. Nothing like the reaction Rush had gotten when he’d defied him on that desert planet, saying to him they’d never be done. Most likely the Colonel would have given anyone, well, any man who had tried to frame him, the same rough justice with his fists, but he rather doubts that the Colonel would have then left them unconscious to die, abandoned to a horrible death from thirst.

Young had regretted his decision. He knows that about the Colonel, has seen it in the man’s eyes, despite whatever nonsense he’d said about not being sorry he’d punished Rush that way. When the man goes to drowning his sins with Brody’s moonshine swill, Rush is fair sure the Colonel’s actions towards him are well included.

No, he gets under the Colonel’s skin, and from what he’s observed, like nobody else on the ship. But he and the Colonel have come to a friendship despite that, although it’s interesting in a way, the strong reaction Rush gets from him.

There’s too much time to think in here, and he’s not got any chalk to scribble possible solutions to the last math puzzle Destiny had set for them.

When he’d kissed the Colonel, he’d done it for distraction, of course. The man is a soldier, he wasn’t going to let Rush get close enough to him to jab him with a needle without being wary of what he was up to. But the Colonel had kissed him back.

Was that just reflex or, or. . . No. He just startled the man, that’s all. He’d apologize after the Colonel had some time to appreciate that he was still alive, they all were, safely away from the Nakai, that Camile no longer shared her mind with Mandy. Mandy was like Franklin now. But also alive, in a sense. Her mind was at any rate, and that was a great, great asset for them.

He sighs and looks over the instructions for dealing with plants that’s posted for those assigned to work here. He might as well keep himself busy. He knots the towel thing tighter around his waist, and he goes to work.

* * *

He does his bit of gardening and finds it surprisingly soothing; later he cobbles together a meal of tomatoes and some bean like things that were much tastier after they’d been cooked. He redresses in fresh clean clothes, and, like others assigned to work here, adds his urine to the compost container. It would be sterilized, of course.

He finds he’s very, very tired. An adrenaline drop, probably, and sleep had been an elusive thing for all of them as they’d worked the problems Destiny had demanded they complete in order to jump without putting someone in the chair. He yawns, his eyes drooping. It’s too quiet in here and the automatic timers have plunged the room into a period of darkness. He lies down on the bench and pillows his head on an arm and drifts into sleep.

* * *

He comes awake slowly, feeling disoriented as he blinks his eyes at the greenery around him. He sits up and sees Lisa working at a bench, head bent over dried pods, opening them and dropping the seeds into small containers filled with a dark potting soil.

“Hello,” she says, calmly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone sleep so soundly. I’ve been working in here for hours. All by myself, since apparently you wanted privacy while you hid out.”

He runs both hands through his tousled hair and makes a face. Lisa nods towards a tall bottle on the bench. “I’ve got that tea you like. Help yourself.”

He shoots her a smile, grateful she’s not turned him in when she discovered he was sleeping here. Helping himself to the tea, he drinks it thirstily.

“Awake now?”

“Aye.” He stretches and yawns. “I might come back some night, when I can’t sleep.”

“I was surprised you hadn’t marked up the walls with that last math problem and kept yourself awake.” Lisa takes another rack of containers from a shelf and continues planting seeds.

“No chalk with me.” He shrugs, “How much trouble am I in, then?”

“I don’t know. Actually, we’ve got a new problem.” The tightness in her voice alerts him.

He shoots her an assessing look, and realizes that her air of calm is a forced one. She’s gripping the bench now, and her knuckles are white. “What is it, Lisa?”

“It’s Dale. He collapsed during the jump. Amanda Perry, she appeared and helped TJ diagnose the problem. His kidneys are failing. He’s had high blood pressure and hasn’t been on any meds since we landed here.” She looks anguished. “He didn’t tell any of us. He didn’t tell TJ, either, and she said she could have tried to treat him with herbals from the planets we’ve visited, but the damage is too great now. He needs a kidney transplant. They’re running tests on the crew right now for a compatible match. If they find one, they can volunteer to give him a kidney. Without it, Dale’s not going to live more than a couple of months.”

Volker might die? A kidney transplant done here? It would put two lives at risk, and even if the surgery was successful, the transplant might still fail. What about infection? He looks at Lisa. He can’t say any of that to her. Volker is her friend.

She swallows and says, to the pile of seed pods. “Ronald is a match, although not entirely. He’s already volunteered.”

Greer? They might lose Greer also? A sound of dismay escapes him.

A sob shakes Lisa and he forgets his own problems and wraps his arms around her, as she dissolves into tears.

* * *

He goes to the Infirmary to get the mandatory kidney testing over and done, since Colonel Young is sure to ask him. After Lieutenant Johanson gives him an exasperated, terse lecture on staying out of her drug supply, she tests him, although he’s fair sure he wouldn’t donate a kidney and put two people’s lives at risk. Would he? What if it had been Gloria?

All right, he’d have done it for Gloria. He’d have done anything to save her. Luckily he doesn’t have to make a decision, the test results make it for him. He’s not compatible at all with Volker.

He’s found by Colonel Telford and dragged off for a private conversation regarding why exactly he had spared Colonel Young’s life. Irritated, he says something snarky and rude back, but instead of riling up Telford, he gets a long thoughtful look, a grin, and a hand on his shoulder. Shaking him slightly, he says, “Thanks, you son-of-a-gun.” He tousles Rush’s hair then, and laughs at the offended glare Rush gives him before he strolls away.

Well, that he hadn’t expected. Telford had been hampered by the chain of command, he couldn’t countermand Young’s orders, as it was clear someone had to sit in the chair. Now it appears having an unruly civilian sabotaging Young’s suicidal plan had been welcomed.

He supposes he might as well face the music, surely Colonel Young has gotten his temper under control by now. He turns toward the Colonel’s quarters and wistfully wishes he was going instead to have dinner and play chess.

* * *

The Colonel is sitting at his desk, glasses sliding down a little on his nose, but he looks up when Rush crosses the open threshold into his quarters. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyebrows climb when Rush shuts and locks the door.

“You hide out for hours upon hours – yes, I found out you were in Hydroponics – afraid of me, then you waltz in here and lock the door. Unbelievable, Nick.” The Colonel rubs his temples as if a headache was beginning to pound his brain.

“I’m not afraid of you, Colonel. I just judged it’d be best to allow you some time to, um, mull things over before we talked.” He crosses his arms around himself, but when he realizes what he’s doing and what kind of message he’s sending he abruptly stops. He clasps his hands behind his back instead, where they can stop broadcasting his feelings of insecurity.

Colonel Young gives him a sardonic look, pulls the glasses from his face and drops them onto the stack of papers he’d been working through. He stands up and walks towards him until he’s very close. As close as Rush had been before he’d kissed the man, the last time he was in these quarters.

Colonel Young takes another step forward and Rush feels anxiety sweep over him, feels himself start to tremble, but forces himself to remain passive as Colonel Young envelopes him in a hug.

No, not a hug. Young grasps both of Rush’s wrists and brings them in front of Rush’s body, stepping back a wee bit. His fingers have found the small screwdriver safely tucked into the hiding place he’d made where the extra length had been turned up into a cuff. Rush feels him fingering it, and looking up into Young’s eyes, he sees that same thoughtful look that Telford had given him.

Young drops Rush’s hands, steps forward again until they’re chest to chest. He puts a hand behind Rush’s neck, and Rush tenses and closes his eyes, sure that Colonel Young is going to kiss him.

But Young just stays like that, and eventually Rush reopens his eyes to see Young looking at him thoughtfully again.

Tears start to glisten in Rush’s eyes and he curses his body’s reaction. The Colonel nods, like he’s just found the answer he’d been looking for, and steps back, giving Rush his space.

“Okay. Okay. Let’s talk. And eat. I brought you an early dinner.” He points to the couches and coffee table. “Have a seat, Nick.”

Warily, he does so. This isn’t going as planned. He’d thought the Colonel would express his outrage over being drugged and then Rush would justify why he’d had no choice but to do that. He’d point out the obvious, that things worked out quite well without the Colonel having to give up his body for them to jump away from the Nakai. Then he’d leave the Colonel after apologizing for the method of drugging him.

“I’m no sorry,” he blurts out when Colonel Young drops down next to him. Next to him, not on the other side of the couch. It makes him feel unsettled again.

“Oh, I know you’re not. Pulling a fast one like that, Nick, I’m not even going to bother asking you why.” He takes the container sitting there and pours some of the liquid into the two cups waiting and hands one to Nick.

It’s water, not the booze he’d expected.

“I saved your life,” and damn his voice, for its shakiness and the unease he can hear in it.

“I know.” Then shrugging, he adds, “Well, saved my body, at least.”

“You weren’t going to listen to reason. My plan worked; it was win-win all the way, Colonel.” He takes a drink, and sets his cup back down. For once, he wishes it was Brody’s swill in the Colonel’s container.

“Win-win? Sounds like Eli’s lingo.”

That was true enough, and he scowls at Young. “Yes, well, maybe it is, but my plan served the greater good and yours – to willfully sacrifice yourself – was selfish and idiotic. And I warned you, I did. I told you I was no gonna let you sit in that chair and basically kill yourself. Yell at me, confine me to quarters, hell, beat me up again, I don’t care. You’re sitting there still, in your skin, we’re safe from the Nakai, poor Mandy’s existence isn’t at risk, and Camile’s alone again in her head.” He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at the stubborn idiot sitting next to him.

Who isn’t yelling at him, or preparing to teach him a lesson with his fists.

“True enough,” Young says, and sips at his own drink.

The concession infuriates him. “You weren’t going to listen to me! I told you I needed you, damn it!”

“You need me.”

“Of course we need you. No one but Telford wants Telford in command.”

“You know,” Colonel Young says, looking at him with the hint of an amused smile, and using his elbow to give Rush a friendly poke, “you look about five years old when you stick out your lower lip like that, despite the stubble. You can stop pouting. I agree your plan was better.”

“I do not pout, Colonel Young,” he says stiffly, with dignity. He takes a strategic sip from the cup. Unfortunately, he feels his face flushing. Damn it.

Colonel Young outright laughs at him. “Sure you don’t. Eli actually has some pretty good kino shots of you – not pouting. Want to see them?”

“I’m quite sure we’re both too busy for such nonsense.” He desperately wants to change the subject. “You said you’d brought dinner?”

For an answer, Young gets up and moves behind his desk, and when he returns he sits the warming container on the low table and sits down across from him.

He relaxes at that and their meal is consumed without straying into any more uncomfortable areas, that is, until Young stacks the dishes inside the container and gives him a somber look.

“Nick,” he says. “I do have something to point out to you, and then, I’m going to make good on a promise I made to you.”

He tenses up at those words.

“I get that you were distracting me when you kissed me – worked pretty good, too – but have you asked yourself why you picked that tactic, instead of, well, other choices?”

“I had to be close to you, obviously,” he says and he can hear the confusion in his voice.

“Yep, I get that.” Young is maddening, the way his voice is so calm, his eyes so, so intent. “Nick, you could have pretended to hurt your ankle or faint and it would have worked as well when I came to give you a hand. You could have acted like something was in the room, Destiny’s AI, maybe, or you spotted something outside the window flying around. When I turned to look, you could have jabbed me. But you chose to offer sex, in a way. And while you were in Hydroponics, I did a lot of thinking about that. What you did with me, you’ve done before. I just don’t know if you’re really aware of it.”

His stomach turns queasy. “I, what?”

Now Young frowns. “I think maybe I should just leave it there, let you connect the dots on your own.”

But his words have made the connection and he’s back there, Simeon’s dick in his mouth, and he’s sucking as if his life depends on it, and of course it does, and Lisa’s life, and the taste of come fills his mouth and he bites down and strikes with the screwdriver and blood spurts out from Simeon’s groin and then someone has him by the wrists and is pulling him away.

He comes to himself in the Colonel’s private bathroom, retching into the toilet.

The Colonel is holding his hair out of his face as he kneels, losing his dinner. “God, I’m sorry, Nick. I swear I didn’t mean to trigger a flashback. Christ, I’m no therapist. I should have just left it alone.”

He can’t talk, and after he’s done he just leans against the Colonel. He feels spent, and he doesn’t even think he can get up on his own. Colonel Young hands him water and he rinses his mouth and spits. He looses track of time. He feels clammy and shivery and sweat or tears have rolled down his face.

Finally, feeling like he’s a great distance away, he says. “You’re right. I didn’t know. I see it now. Kiva, the others, they’ve marked me, and I didn’t even- I’m sorry.” He ends in a whisper and tries to melt into the floor.

Colonel Young stops him. “You gave me permission once. Will you let me carry you again, Nick? You can rest, then.”

“Yes,” he mumbles and somehow Young hoists him until he’s resting against the man’s chest, strong arms under his knees, and then he’s being placed in a bed and his shoes – not his boots, no the Lucians took them, these shoes are charity – are pulled off and blankets tucked around him.

“Go to sleep, Nick,” Young says, and he does.

* * *

The sound of a knock on the door brings him awake from the light doze he’s been in since he first woke up and realized he was still in Colonel Young’s room.

In Colonel Young’s bed.

He has no idea how long he’s been asleep. God, he’d fallen apart, had an awful flashback to Simeon using his mouth. He’d killed the fucker, he’d stopped him from doing any more harm to Lisa or anyone else. That is what he’s going to focus on, not the humiliation the man had put him through.

It’s Greer’s voice he’s hearing, although he can’t make out what the man’s saying. The Colonel steps out into the corridor, and shuts the door.

Probably he assumed Rush was still asleep. Rush should get up and leave, but he’s so tired, still. He thinks about what he’s learned about himself, and he feels hopeless. He’d never thought much about his body, before Kiva had him strapped to that table and raped over and over. He tended to ignore being hungry or tired in favor of working on interesting things or since arriving here, on absolutely essential to their survival projects. He would let his hair grow out because he didn’t care a jot about the time and effort to keep it short. He never spent a lot of time looking for attractive clothes; he favored jeans and T-shirts or plain white button shirts. Gloria had bought him the vest he’d worn when he’d come through the gate to Destiny. He’d dressed up for her concerts, but that was for her, not him. Ties annoyed him.

Before the Lucians had captured him, he’d. . . not been paying attention, apparently, to other people being attracted to his body. Both Telford and Mandy had rather pointed that out to him.

The Lucians had changed that. He flashes to images of himself on the table, all eyes on him as he agrees to willingly let various Lucians use his mouth in exchange for food and water. He remembers Koz’s staring at his naked body before allowing him to shower and how he’d come so close to prostituting himself again for the rations Koz and his friends were willing to share if he masturbated, touched himself to orgasm, in front of them. That if he hadn’t found the Bridge when he did, Kiva would have required him to service the Lucians for his continued survival. Enough of them had told him they were eager for that time to come. He’d been afraid that the crew would also decide to teach him a lesson by taking turns fucking him. It would have pleased Kiva. He’s fair sure it would have happened, with some of the crew at least. Sometimes, on bad nights when he can’t sleep, he finds his mind playing the ‘will they or won’t they’ game, picturing various crew members asking and receiving Kiva’s permission to fuck him.

With Simeon, he’d used his body as a weapon. It had worked, and Simeon was dead because of it. Small price to pay, being raped again. What was one more time, anyway? And somehow, his mind had twisted things around so that using his body to distract the Colonel with sex, kissing him like that, had seemed the most natural and normal thing to do to accomplish his goal.

Colonel Young had been testing him when he’d first come into his quarters tonight. He knew it at the time, knew he’d failed whatever the Colonel had been on about. There had been no goal to accomplish, so he hadn’t tried to what? Kiss the man again?

Colonel Young had kissed him back, before the drug took him down. But he hadn’t kissed him when he’d put a hand on the back of Rush’s neck tonight. He’d been waiting, he now realizes, for Rush to take the initiative. Instead, he’d been anxious and fearful and tears had welled up.

He’s a right mess, he is.

Anger starts to burn in his gut. He might not want to kiss anybody, true, but if he does want to do it, or, or, have actual sex, his body’s fearful reactions shouldn’t get a vote.

This is a problem. Until he’s comfortable with sex again, Kiva has still won.

He thinks of Mandy and his odd friendship with Young. The man had also used his own body as a bargaining chip with Kiva. He’d fucked Rush under her cool gaze, so that Rush wouldn’t have his throat cut, or however Kiva had planned his death.

Had the Colonel had the counseling he’d pushed on Rush? Somehow, he doubts it. Brody’s swill had been his poor attempt at coping, although he seems better now. More centered.

For a while, the Colonel hadn’t cared much about his own body. On him, it had shouted of the man’s depression. Not shaving. His uniform a mess, like he’d slept in it. Letting his hair grow. Those curls had been a surprise, all right, but Rush rather liked them. It made him seem less a military drone.

He starts to think about Gloria, how he’d loved the intimacy between them, but instead of smiling at the memory, he feels tears start to dampen his eyes.

So no, he forces himself to steer his thoughts away from their lovemaking. He had never deserved her, she’d been a gift and not one he’d cherished enough, or he’d have done better by her. He’d never have let her stay alone late in the evening, in their quiet home, while he lost himself in maths at his university office.

He thinks of Mandy, imagines himself kissing her, her own lips, not those of Ginn’s or Camile’s, of touching her hair, her face. He’ll never have the chance now. He regrets backing away when she’d kissed him. Yes, he’d been muddled over his experiences in the chair, reliving Gloria’s last days, but he’d been a bloody idiot about, well, everything with Mandy.

He’d only thought of her as a friend, a kind person to whom he could express the devastation he’d felt over Gloria’s passing. He – he really wasn’t sure just what he did feel with her.

Colonel Young comes back, and runs a hand through his messy hair. He sighs and goes back to his desk, quietly resumes whatever paperwork requires his attention. He doesn’t look at Rush.

Rush watches him, eyes half shut. He’s quite willing to delay any awkward conversations. If he’s lucky, the Colonel will have pressing ship’s business soon and leave. He’ll make his escape then.

It’s oddly soothing, watching this man steadily work.

Studying Young’s features, he decides that he likes them. He wishes that they hadn’t gotten off to such a poor start back on Icarus. If they’ve managed to forge a friendship now, after all the problems they’d had between them, they could have done better back then. Ah, well. Pointless to feel regret over the past.

Yes, that’s a grand idea. Almost impossible for him follow his own sage advice, though.

His eyes keep closing all the way, and his last thoughts are on the problem he’s identified tonight. He’ll find a way to solve it.

He needs another variable, something to add to the algorithm of his life. He may never want a physical relationship again, but if so, it won’t be because he’s afraid of it, or because his body rejects a lover’s touch.

When he wakes up again, Colonel Young is gone, and Mandy is sitting next to him.

* * *

“Hello, Nick,” she says, very quietly. She’s wearing some gauzy, floaty blue-green dress, looking more like a university student than one of the top scientists at the SGC.

He pushes himself up on his elbows, feeling shame and shyness. “Mandy,” he softly says and then looks away, towards the wall. He takes a deep breath, tells himself to stop being a coward. He can’t bring himself to make eye contact with her, though. He says, more to his knees than her, “I never wanted you to know about all of that rubbish that happened with the Lucians. I’m sorry.”

“Nick, you have nothing to apologize about. It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who needs to apologize. I shouldn’t have left you so abruptly. I didn’t know what to say and then Dale Volker collapsed and I used that as an excuse. I told myself that you needed some time to yourself, since I’d obviously made you feel uncomfortable. You were asleep in Hydroponics after Dale was stabilized, when I tracked you down. I didn’t have the heart to wake you up.”

“I must disgust you now.” He draws his knees up under the covers and wraps his arms around them.

“No. Of course you don’t. Oh, I wish I could hug you. Or, well, I would if you wanted me to touch you.” She blinked out for a moment, then reappeared several feet away. “Nick, I’ve learned so much about the ship. And, I know a way that I could hug you. Me, not using someone else’s borrowed body, but my own virtual one.”

He gets out of bed and stands before her. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a way we could be together, Nick. For a little while, anyway. I promise it’s safe.”

He’s intrigued, and also relieved, that his sordid experiences haven’t caused her to end their friendship. He stares at her, thinking, thinking very hard about what she could mean. Mandy can’t resume a human form, so he’d have to join her, in a virtual world. Could they use his memory again, of his time with Gloria before she passed? No. Even if it was possible, he just couldn’t do that.

Mandy is smiling at him. “I know how you like figuring out puzzles, Nick. But in the interest of time, I’ll give you a clue. Remember the dream simulation Destiny put Colonel Young through? Destiny has made a virtual replication of the ship and I can access it. It just took a few changes in the programming.”

It hits him like a ton of bricks. “Of course! You’re brilliant. Do you remember, I used to call you Little Miss Brilliant? Have you programed the chair yet, to upload my mind, but not convert my body to energy?”

“Yes. Nick, I can do so many things like this.” Her smile is wondering, amazed, and he’s glad of it. Mandy always did make the best of situations.

She says, “For example, I know that Camile is on her way to the Stones room, to arrange for a surgeon to switch with her tomorrow morning to operate on Dale Volker and Ronald Greer. I know that the two of them have gone to Hydroponics, Greer’s idea, as a substitue for Dale’s old backyard. I could listen to them talking, but out of respect for their privacy, I’m not. I know that Colonel Young is playing peek a boo with his baby. Brody is double checking again the instruments from Destiny the doctor will use tomorrow to do the kidney transplant. Lisa Park and Vanessa James and Becker are being briefed by T.J. on the procedure tomorrow. They’re going to be the doctor’s surgical team. I’m also searching the data banks for the mission information, and talking to Franklin through Destiny. He’s been very coy about the project he’s been working on, but I’m sure I’ll get him to show it to me."

He smiles at her, then crooks a hand over his shoulder, massaging the stiff muscles there and on his neck. They’ve been knotted up for days. Mandy starts to reach for him, then aborts the movement. “That’s marvelous. I envy you, you know, to be able to multi-task like that. And since I’m quite sure Colonel Young would forbid me to sit in the Neural Interface chair, tomorrow sounds like an excellent time to give it a go. Everyone’s attention will be on the surgery. But I want to see the program. Let’s go down there now and run through it, shall we?”

Mandy nods, and while she could just pop over there, she chooses to stay by his side and mimics walking with him through the corridors to where the chair waits.

Tomorrow, Mandy willing, he’s going to cross that line between them that had been in place for so long. Friends to lovers, even if it was in a virtual bed on a virtual ship.

Fuck Kiva anyway, and the entire Lucian crew who’d abused him. He was going to reclaim every bit of his life, just see if he didn’t.

* * *

He’s quite satisfied with the programming Mandy has done when they part. He has some business to tend to that’s been neglected over the last day or so, and he’d best see to it now, since he’ll be taking a day off tomorrow.

The only part of the set-up he hadn’t looked over had been how Mandy had set up the safe guards to return him to his body. The lass had looked a bit shy, and asked him to trust her with that part. She assured him that it was foolproof, but she wanted it to be a surprise.

He was trying to be better at this whole trust thing, and he did trust her. So, he didn’t insist. It would be something dead simple, he supposes. Mandy does elegant work when she programs, and her solution would reflect her.

She blew a kiss at him and asked him to close his eyes when it was time for her to leave, no doubt having picked up on how unsettling he found it when she would blink out of existence.

Sweet, sweet Mandy. He thinks of her kindness during his time at the SGC as he jogs down Destiny’s corridors.

He looks cautiously into the Infirmary to make sure Colonel Young isn’t there. He wants to talk to Greer before the surgery, and he supposes he ought to also have a word with Volker.

James is evidently babysitting the pair of them and she breaks off laughing over something Greer has said when she sees him, moving quickly to where he’s stopped once inside the room.

“Doc? Keep it short, okay? These guys need to get some sleep.” She steps away past him, giving him a clap on the shoulder. He remembers how she and Barnes had shared their bedroll with him when he’d been so cold in the cell the military had been corralled in during Kiva’s reign. The two women had been so careful not to touch him, but their body heat had warmed him. Had he ever thanked them?

He can’t remember.

Impulsively, he stops her with a touch to her arm. She looks at him quizzically, her long dark hair worn the way Gloria often would, some sort of swirled up knot on the nape of her neck. Her eyes are warm and dark and her eyebrows raised, waiting for him to say why he’d halted her.

“I can’t remember ever thanking you, Lieutenant, for sharing your blankets with me, back in that terrible cell. It was kind of you to do so, and I did appreciate it.”

She looks surprised, then smiles at him. “You’re welcome, Doc. I was glad to help you, and so was Barnes.”

He really needs to work on his manners if she’s so surprised by this simple thank you. He used to be much more polite to people. Once. Before Gloria died. He stopped having the energy for it, but really, that’s a poor excuse and he knows it.

Sincerely, he says, “It means a lot to me, what you and the others did back then. Sharing your food, blankets. Socks, even, when the Lucians weren’t paying attention.” His bare feet had stayed cold all the time, just another way the Lucians thought they were humiliating him. It didn’t quite work the way they had thought it would. He rather liked having bare feet at times. From what he gathered from the disparaging comments directed to him by the Lucians, in many of the worlds conquered by the G’ould, not being allowed to wear shoes showed your low status as a slave.

She leans in and gives him a peck on the cheek. “I wanted to take those bastards apart for what they did to you, to all of us. And you saved us all, Doc. We’re grateful.” She looks a little mischievous. “You need to thank Colonel Young for those socks, though. I always thought they were a mixed blessing, since they could practically stand up on their own, they were that dirty.”

They’d been ripe, certainly, but very welcomed. For some damn reason, the thought of wearing the Colonel’s clothing is making him feel over warm. He can feel his face flushing. Instinctively, he runs a hand down the sleeve of the Colonel’s jacket he’s currently wearing.

“The socks weren’t that bad,” he says, the words stumbling on his tongue. She gives him a grin. A rather knowing grin, and he wonders just what is it she thinks he’s revealed. Time to end this conversation.

“I’ll just have a word with your patients, then.” She continues to grin at him all the way to where she perches at Lieutenant Johanson’s desk, waving him over to where Greer and Volker have been watching them curiously.

* * *

He’s made the rounds, checked in on the Science Team’s progress, estimated how long they can travel before needing to refuel. Eli is yawning when he joins him on the Bridge.

“Lo,” Eli slurs, and shakes his head. His messy dark hair is getting a bit long, and his face is thinner than when they first met. Well, he supposes everyone has lost weight. He certainly has. “You just now popping up, like a gopher from its hidey hole?”

“Eli.” He rolls his eyes. “So, Brody said to check with you about the long range sensors. Have you found something interesting, then?”

“Maybe?” The boy yawns again. “It’s pretty far off still. Looks like a space junkyard, near as I can tell.”

The improvements Rush has made have worked out quite nicely. Before he’d upgraded the system, with Destiny’s help, they wouldn’t have been able to notice anything this far away.

“And so, what are you doing about it?” he fires at Eli.

“Why do you think I’m still up this late? I wrote a program to see if that giant jigsaw puzzle can be put back together so we can get an idea what happened. It’s dead quiet now. Still, we may be able to salvage some of the space junk.” Eli yawns again.

“Good job, then. When will we have results?”

Eli checks, and slides off his stool. “Not till tomorrow afternoon, according to my calculations. So, I’m off to bed.”

By the happy look that crosses Eli’s face, Rush is fair sure the boy won’t be sleeping alone. Well, they’re a good match, Eli and Ginn.

“Good night, then,” he calls as Eli leaves, feeling amused as Eli’s pace picks up as he heads toward the door. Eli waves his hand in the air, in response.

Lieutenant Scott is sitting in the command chair, obviously having been assigned the night shift. “Hey,” he says, in way of greeting.

“Yes, hello. I’ve um, not had time to stop in and see Chloe. How’s she doing?” He feels guilty that he hasn’t seen her since the ship had jumped.

“She’s still slogging away on that last math problem. I think it helps, having something to focus on to keep her busy. She’s, um, having those blackouts more and more.” Scott looks pensive, worried. He empathizes. He hates what’s been happening to Chloe.

Damn the Nakai for what they did to her. It puzzles him, that they hadn’t tried something similar on him. Not that Colonel Young had taken his word for it, that they’d not done anything to change him. He’d been examined quite thoroughly.

Scott looks tired. On impulse, he tells him that he’s talked with Greer tonight and the Sergeant seems quite sure of his decision. Scott and Greer are close, he knows. Odd, really, the two of them, all wrapped up in their military culture, something other than friends, more like a brother, but even that’s not right.

Maybe he’ll have Colonel Young try to explain it to him some night, over dinner.

Scott rather pointedly asks him how Volker seemed, and he remembers his decision tonight to be more polite. “Mr. Volker’s blood pressure is better, and he’s very grateful for Greer’s help.”

Giving him a skeptical look, Scott says, “You look like something’s bugging you, Doc. You might as well spill. I’m not going to rat you out.”

Behind that farmboy face is a rather astute man, something Rush has been surprised about a time or two. He’d backed Rush when they first arrived, correctly pegging him as necessary to their survival. Chloe had obviously seen something in the boy, something more than a good looking young man. He rather trusts Chloe’s judgment. Well, he did before the Nakai’s genetic changes began altering her.

He sits down at a monitoring station and spins the chair around so he’s facing Scott. “I don’t like it, this surgery. It’s very risky.”

Scott just gives a little mmm sound, and keeps eye contact with him. Impulsively, he ends up explaining his fears that instead of losing one crew member, they might lose two. He knows it makes him sound callous, that he doesn’t care if Volker dies from his malfunctioning kidneys, but that’s not true. It’s simply risk management.

“I hear you,” Scott says. “I’m worried about them, too. But there was no stopping Greer when he found out he was a match. And risk is our business. It’s a gamble, but if they can pull it off, a life will be saved. Were you a match?”

“No, I wasn’t. And to be honest, I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I had been.” He fully expects Scott to show his disgust at that, but Scott doesn’t. He just looks thoughtful.

“You’re a science guy, Doc. What I hear is you being logical. But you can’t tell me you don’t make some decisions based on emotion, despite it not being the best choice logically. You let Ginn live, when the logical thing would have been to kill her, too.”

He shrugs. “I’d seen she was sorry for her actions and that she didn’t serve the Alliance of her own free will.”

“But it would have been safer to let her suffocate. You took a risk with her, and it’s paid off.”

“Aye.” He’s not sure Eli would ever have spoken to him again if Ginn had been killed with the others.

“So let’s just hope for the best for Greer and Volker. And if Greer dies, then he died trying to save a friend, and that’s not a bad way to go. Protecting others, that’s the reason he wears the uniform. He’d do the same for you, Doc, or me.”

Rush tilts his head a little, studying Scott, thinking over what he had said. “It’s too bad you’re on duty, Lieutenant. I’d offer to buy you a drink.”

Smiling, Scott says, “Well, Doc, I’ll take a rain check.”

“Do you suppose Chloe would be awake still? I, um, I’m not sleepy, and I fancy we could make some progress on that last problem.”

Scott radios the guard stationed outside of Chloe’s door and upon learning that Chloe is awake and wanting Rush’s company, sends him on down.

They don’t solve the problem but they do get a bit further on it. When Chloe’s breakfast is delivered, she gives him part of it. He waits a bit longer, then leaves her yawning and climbing into her bed.

He checks the guard’s watch and the surgery should be starting any moment. He feels excitement building up in him, and anxiety, for Greer, and yes, for Volker, and for himself.

There’s a part of his brain that can’t help pointing out that he’s about to make a very emotional decision, one that isn’t one whit logical. He knows what Colonel Young would say about it, if he finds out. reckless, thoughtless, and just plain stupid to upload your brain into the ship and trust that you’ll be able to down load it again. And really, Rush? With no one to watch over your body, to monitor you?

“Shut up, Everett Young,” he mutters as he begins to fly down the hall. “You don’t get a vote.”

He’s so busy arguing with Young in his head that he nearly bowls over Scott. The young man manages to plant his feet and catch Rush before he crashed to the floor, hauling him upright.

“Hey, hey, Doc. Man, your feet were on fire. Is something up? I was going to go see Chloe before I crash.”

“No, nothing’s up, there’s nothing wrong.” Belatedly, he realizes he maybe should have told someone he wasn’t going to be available. “Um, if anyone asks for me, I’m taking the day off.”

Scott looks surprised, “Why? You feel okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I even ate breakfast. I, um, I’m just taking a day off, all right?”

“Okay. Guess if anybody on board deserves a day off, it would be you. It’s just, usually when you’re not working, it’s because the Colonel or TJ have grounded you, because you’re ready to collapse. You sure you feel okay?”

Honestly, this is ridiculous. “Yes, I’m fine, like I said. So if anybody asks for me, tell them I’ve the day off and not to bother me.” He jogs away, but when he turns down a cross corridor, Scott is still staring after him.

He doesn’t care. He feels like running again and he does, and he’s out of breath when he arrives at the Neural Interface Room, but he feels calmer. He looks up and down the corridor before opening the door. The lights come on and shine down on the chair. He takes a deep breath. He’s going to see Mandy. He’ll be able to touch her hand. He’s going to take that step he’d backed away from before.

It’s going to be okay. He locks the door, starts the program running and sits down in the chair.

Silently he counts down with the program. Four, three, two, one and go!

His ankles and wrists are restrained and electrodes touch his head. He closes his eyes and goes under.

* * *

He finds himself standing on the Observation Deck, hands on the railing, looking out at the flow of colors streaming against the shields. He starts, and wonders what’s happened, he doesn’t remember coming here, and maybe he, too, is finally showing signs of the blackouts Chloe is experiencing.

He had sat in the chair, to upload his brain into Destiny’s data banks, so he could see--.

“Hello, Nick.”

He turns and sees Mandy, this time in a lavender, lacy dress that drapes her slim form to her knees and wearing white cowboy boots.

She’s looking at his chest and he glances down. He’s not wearing the cast-off charity clothing the crew had given him, after his own clothes had been destroyed by the Lucians. He’s wearing a white button down shirt, long on him and untucked, and an old comfortable pair of jeans. His feet are bare.

He has no such outfit on Destiny. He feels a smile break out on his face, impossible to contain. He reaches out and takes Mandy’s hand. It feels warm and alive and human. She squeezes his hand and laughs delightedly.

“Destiny’s virtual copy is so realistic, isn’t it? Would you like to go for a walk and see for yourself?”

“I would like that,” he says, his curiosity flaring. “Tell me, how are you getting along, now that you’ve had some time to adjust?”

They talk as they tour the ship, about Amanda’s new abilities, and her ongoing projects, about Franklin’s secretive project that he promises to share with her soon.

“I haven’t seen him since we took back the ship,” he says. “Do you meet here?” He waves an arm, encompassing the simulation. They’ve arrived at the Bridge and he sits down in the command chair.

Amanda startles him by sliding onto his lap. She shakes her head. “No, not like this, wearing our old bodies.” She touches his hair, pushes it out of his eyes. “We meet as code.” She leans down slowly and touches her lips to his. Suddenly, he feels trapped. Instead of opening his mouth to hers, his lips have tightened. Amanda feels it, and pushes away from him, stands up, eyes big and horrified. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you first.”

“Not your fault, lass. You surprised me, is all.” He stands up, too, retakes her hand. “Mandy, I’m--” He was going to say he was out of practice, but that wasn’t exactly true. The Lucians had seen to that. “I’m finding my way. But I’ve thought of kissing you quite often. Let’s walk some more, and then, shall we go to my quarters?”

She smiles at him, but he can still see her apprehension. He squeezes her hand. “By chance, did the ship also replicate Mr. Brody’s still?”

“I’m not sure.” She looks amused now. “Let’s go find out. I’ve missed its one redeeming quality.”

* * *

They do indeed sample the moonshine found in the makeshift bar, and when Rush wishes aloud that the ship had taken some initiative and improved the rotgut, Mandy chuckles.

They take a container with them, and their talk turns to their time at the SGC. Mandy had been up for another promotion, and they discuss the various projects she’s worked on. When he’d been stationed there, he had focused mostly on solving the problem of the ninth chevron, but he’d been borrowed more than once to pitch in on other projects.

Amanda had just finished telling him about one of Bill Lee’s disasters in the lab, and really, he doesn’t know how the man hasn’t blown himself up by now, when he stops dead.

“What’s wrong, Nick?” Amanda asks, and the ease they’d regained is gone again. He can’t tell her, not really.

He’s shaking and sweating and his breathing is fast, too fast, his heart is pounding in his chest and he wants to run away but his feet feel rooted. He can’t talk, can’t tell her that they’ve wandered next to the Mess, and he tries to tell himself that this isn’t real. Nothing happened to him in that room, those tables had never been used to torture him.

It’s not working. This looks real, it feels real, and he can’t convince his body that he’s not back there.

Mandy is pulling him away, stumbling with him, but it’s too late, he’s gone into a full blown panic attack.

It runs its course finally and he’s sitting on the deck, slumped against the wall, feeling exhausted. Mandy is kneeling before him, and tears are in her eyes. He wants to reassure her that he’s fine, but he can’t make himself say the lie.

“I’m so stupid, I shouldn’t have gone that way,” her voice shaky. “I thought you were dying, that something had gone wrong with the program, but then I remembered about--”

She’s crying now and he manages to do the right thing, finally, and pulls her against him. She sobs against his chest, and while he’s sure she’s crying for him, he wonders if maybe she’s crying for herself also, that her plans for their love making have been derailed. He’s a truly terrible partner just now. Maybe Mandy has had sex before, but he rather doubts it. Certainly, having her body, even if it was virtual, under her control would be a new experience.

And for her first time, she has a partner who flinches when she kisses him and falls apart because he can’t shake off what happened to him. How will he be when they’re lying on a bed together, and she touches his body?

Under the exhaustion, he feels anger stirring again, and he feels determined to take back control of his life. He wants to walk where he wants to walk, and he wants to kiss who he wants to kiss and have sex again with somebody he likes.

And he does like Mandy. He always has liked her.

“Mandy,” he says. “I’m a poor choice for a lover. I’m damaged, sweetheart. But I want to try, with you, if you’ll have me.”

She wipes her tears away, stands up. She pulls him to his feet. “I have wanted you, Nicholas Rush, for a very long time. We’ve had obstacles in our way, my injuries, your injuries. I don’t even have a real body anymore. If you want me back, then let’s try. Let’s go get cleaned up and just attempt to enjoy each other’s company.”

“I do, love. I do.” He takes her hand again, raises it to his lips and kisses her knuckles. “You’re way too good for me, you know.”

She slides into his arms, but doesn’t try to initiate anything. He hugs her, then touches his lips to hers, yes, rather tentatively, but he manages, and she’s warm, and tastes sweet and he relaxes.

One kiss, but he’ll take his victories where he can. He gently disengages from her, concerned that she hadn’t enjoyed it. She’s smiling now, and he feels better.

Maybe it will be all right.

* * *

Chapter 23: Rock and a Hard Place

“Hey, Colonel,” Eli says, giving him a distracted wave before plopping himself down at the Bridge station he’s been using for the long range sensors. “I checked in with Brody. Surgery’s still going on.”

“I know. It’ll be a while yet before the doctors are done.”

Everett has the Bridge, and command. David went with Camile back to Earth, so that two doctors could do the surgery on Greer and Volker. David had been itching to talk to the IOA. Camile has distanced herself from that group, backing him and the crew during the IOA’s little power plays, but she also had some business with them. She planned to go visit her wife, afterwards.

Scott had the night shift and was probably still asleep. Or maybe he was with Chloe. God knows he, himself, should go and visit her.

Watching Chloe become more and more transformed reminds him of when his young cousin died of cancer. It wasn’t fair that someone like Chloe, bright, compassionate girl just beginning her adult life, is going to end up either abandoned on a planet or being killed to protect the rest of the crew.

He decides he’ll see her today. She’ll want to know how the surgery went for her two friends.

Eli is muttering self-congratulating words, as his fingers dance on controls. Everett tunes him out, until the verbal pats on the back change to words of dismay.

“What’s wrong, Eli?”

Eli is chewing his lip. “My program to put the pieces of the space junk yard puzzle back together worked, Colonel. I think you and Rush are going to want to see this.”

Everett radios Rush and is not surprised one little bit when the man doesn’t answer. Probably off working somewhere and once again neglected to tell the people who need to know where he is and what he’s doing.

“Any idea where Rush is?” he asks Eli, while getting up from the command chair.

Shaking his head, Eli waves him over to his station. “He talked to me late last night, here on the Bridge, before I went to bed. Maybe he said something to Scott about where he went or maybe he stayed on the Bridge and worked from here. Or maybe he’s sleeping in because he looked kind of fidgety when I told him about this program. I bet he stayed up pretty late doing something.” Everett steps up next to him, and Eli points at the console screen. “But watch now.”

Eli shows him the image of the scattered shapes, static, still. Then the figures rapidly animate and reassemble until Everett is looking at several large space ships and a number of smaller ones. Eli stops the program. “See those little ones. See their positions. Keep your eyes on them, when I restart the program.”

Eli begins, and they watch the slow simulation. It ends with the larger ships shattered. Everett thoughtfully rubs his chin. “Those small ones won the battle. And they stayed in one piece.”

“Yep.” Eli draws out his assent. “Now, I don’t have any analysis yet on how long ago all this happened. And they aren’t emitting any signals or anything that indicates they’re functioning ships. But, what if they’re just dormant? They blew apart those other ships.”

“I’m inclined to say we should just stay away. But I want Rush’s take on it. Eli, go see if you can track him down.”

Eli rolls his eyes. “Oh, goody. Playing hide and seek is my favorite game.”

Everett flashes to the last time he had played a deadly game of hide and seek with Rush. He’d found him right before the man had almost killed himself by trying to hide in a room that was open to space. God, that was a close call. He massages his forehead. “Check the usual places, check with the usual people. Is your radio working?”

Eli pats the radio hanging on his belt. “Yep.”

“And Eli, when you find him, don’t give him a hard time. He had a rough evening last night.”

Eli’s expression becomes thoughtful. “Was he okay?”

“Not sure. He was asleep when I left him and gone when I returned last night. I knew he needed some space for a while, so I left him alone.” Everett returns to the command chair, sits down heavily.

“He had a nap yesterday afternoon or evening? For sure then, he stayed up all night. Okay, I’m on it.”

Eli ambles out the door.

Everett drums his fingers on the chair arm, then gets up. It’s been hours since the surgery on Greer and Volker had begun. He resists the urge to call TJ and get a status update. She’s busy. She doesn’t need him hovering over her, as Rush would no doubt tell him.

So he waits. His thoughts wander to his missing-in-action chief scientist. He has unfinished personal business with Rush, interrupted by the flashback the man had endured last night in Everett’s quarters. God, he’d had no idea that was going to happen. His fists clench when he feels again the turmoil of emotions he’d experienced. Poor bastard. Nick really hadn’t realized that he’d used the same tactic on Everett that he had on Simeon, until Everett had laid it out for him.

Greer had told him what Rush had done with Simeon. Greer approved. It had been a desperately brilliant plan, concocted on the fly when Simeon had taken Park and Rush to rape them. A very successful plan, but at what cost to Rush’s soul?

So, he now knows Rush’s motivation for kissing him. It certainly wasn’t because Rush had been dying to do it and had used the need to drug him as an excuse. He’d given Rush the chance to kiss him last night. Instead of attraction, what he’d seen in the man’s face had been controlled anxiety. Tears had begun to form in Rush’s eyes, and he’d cut short his little experiment.

He didn’t know what he’d have done if Rush had kissed him again. No, that’s a lie. He’d have kissed him back. Maybe he’d have made the same mistake he’d made with TJ, getting involved with someone when his feelings for Emily were still in turmoil. Emily, passionate and demanding, had divorced him, but he hadn’t really accepted it. If she wanted them to try again, he’d agree. The affair he’d had when he and Emily had been having problems hadn’t been good for Tamara, or fair, and it wouldn’t be fair to Rush to start up with him.

Besides, Rush had asked for his help in overcoming his aversion to going into the Mess. In a way, he guessed that would make him some sort of, what? A therapist? Wouldn’t it be against some kind of ethics standard to be involved with Nick sexually when Everett was trying to help him regain his control? Oh, sure, says a denigrating voice inside his head, the one that keeps urging him to drink. You screwed your subordinate, Colonel. You ignored the power dynamics with TJ. Why hesitate now, with Rush? Fine time to develop scruples.

Shut up, he tells that obnoxious part of of his brain. I don’t have to repeat my mistakes. I hurt TJ; I don’t need to hurt Rush. He’s vulnerable. He needs my help, and I promised I would give it to him.

Throwing sex into that mix would be a bad, bad, idea. Rush needed him to be a friend, not a fuck buddy.

A more positive voice in his head pointed out that it might not be that way forever. Let it bide, then. Let it bide.

* * *

Everett glances at his watch. It’s been thirty minutes since Eli left on his quest to locate Rush. He wonders if the Ancients left anything on board like a locator chip that TJ could embed under Rush’s skin. He grins a little, picturing the outraged look on Rush’s face if such a proposition was ever put to him.

His radio goes off. Quickly, he answers, hoping it’s good news about Volker and Greer, or at least that Eli found Rush.

“Sir, this is Scott. Eli told me Rush was missing. This morning he practically ran me over; he told me he was taking the day off and he didn’t want to be bothered by anyone. He was, um, well, he sounded off. Anxious, kind of, and eager. Eli had a hunch when I told him about it, and, sir, we found him. He’s in the chair. Eli’s looking over the program he’s running. He said it’s massive. He thinks Rush uploaded his brain into Destiny.”

Everett closes his eyes. “Great. Radio TJ. See if she can send someone down to check on him. Then come up here and relieve Barnes, Lieutenant. I’m on my way.”

God damn the man. Anger and fear and anxiety start churning in his gut. Why did Rush do this?

He levers himself up and informs Corporal Barnes that she has the Bridge until Scott arrives.

He dogtrots down the corridors, itching to lay his hands on Rush. But damned if he knew if it was to shake some sense into him or hug him.

Always the fucking chair with you, Rush. You’d better live through this, you irresponsible bastard. You say that you need me, that the crew needs me? Well, you idiot, they need you, too.

And that includes me.

* * *

Eli glances at the door when he strides inside, then his eyes shift to the quiet figure strapped to the chair. He doesn’t say anything, just returns to what he was doing with the laptop, a grim expression on his face.

Everett walks over and stands next to Rush. He’s too quiet. Even when the man isn’t talking, his body language shouts out his disdain, or amusement, or frustration. He’s too quiet, his face slack, his body small in the chair. Usually, he didn’t really think much about Rush’s height or build, since he seemed to add inches and pounds of imaginary flesh along with the attitude he usually projected. But, like this, that illusion is gone. Abruptly he remembers carrying Rush away from the Mess, and from his bathroom to his bed, to the infirmary when he’d started to collapse from lack of sleep and overwork, and over his shoulder when he’d tried to escape Everett by way of a hole in the ship’s hull. Then and now, why does seeing Rush vulnerable pull this protective feeling out of his guts? Every damn time.

Everett is short himself, although stocky. Short jokes aside from taller people, he knows first hand that a person’s size doesn’t mean squat when it comes to toughness and abilities. And Rush has shown he’s plenty tough. Simeon and Dannic found that out.

He gives into impulse and lays his hand on Rush’s forehead. His skin feels cool, and he wonders if Rush’s body is going to disappear like Franklin’s did. Rush doesn’t twitch under his palm. He wants to carry him out of this damn room with this diabolical chair. He wants to see Rush’s eyes open, to see that sharp intelligence return as he realizes that Everett has damn well caught him red handed being a suicidal idiot.

Everett wants very badly to explain to the little moron that whatever his reason for doing this is, it’s not worth taking such chances with his life. The ship is not under attack, and that’s the only reason that would excuse whatever he’s doing.

“Eli, what the hell is he doing?” His hand slides down Rush’s stubbled face to his neck and he takes his pulse with two fingers. It feels very slow to him.

“I think I know. Ginn’s coming to check with me, but I’m pretty sure he’s uploaded his consciousness to Destiny for a specific reason.”

“Why? Why do that?” Everett looks down at Rush and wishes he could just shake the answer out of him.

Eli grimaces. “He’s not going to like me outing him, Colonel.”

“He just lost any right to privacy. Spill it, Eli.”

“I think he did this so he could be with Dr. Perry. And that simulation, the one that Destiny used to torment you with those wicked nightmares? It’s active, Colonel. I think they’re using it, the two of them.”

“But he can see Dr. Perry without going through this all this trouble.” Everett pulls off his jacket, covers Rush with it, not liking the slow pulse and cool skin.

“Yeah, but he can’t. . . and she can’t. . .” Eli looks a little flustered.

“Can’t what? Quit beating around the bush.” Everett tucks the jacket a little tighter around Rush’s shoulders.

Eli blows out his breath in a long, frustrated sound. “Man, I didn’t think I’d have to have the birds and the bees talk until Ginn and I have kids, and that would be years from now.”

“Eli,” Everett says tiredly.

“Okay, okay. Sheesh.” Eli clears his throat. “Like this, both of them with virtual bodies in Destiny’s virtual simulation, they can touch. The program will make things feel real to them. Like, kissing, and uh, you know. Colonel, this is a booty-call.” He hesitates. “At least I think it is. That’s why I want Ginn to look this over.”

Everett closes his eyes. God knows, he’s done some stupid things himself when it came to sex. TJ comes to mind. But he’d never pulled anything close to this stunt. He wants Rush to explain this to him. Does he love Amanda Perry so much that he’s risking his very life to have some sort of sexual experience with her?

Everett has to know why he did this. Man’s a genius. Rush has to know how dangerous this is and he decided to do it anyway.

So much for pragmatic, logical reasoning and the Greater Good.

His radio drags his attention from Rush.

“Everett, this is David.”
.
David? The surgery must be wrapped up. “Young here. How are Volker and Greer?”

“Not good. Camile and I didn’t come back because the surgery was over. There was an attack on Homeworld Command by the Lucian Alliance. I was there, Camile was at home. There was an explosion and suddenly, we’re back on Destiny.”

Great. “TJ’s on her own, then.”

“Yeah. We’re going to go to the stones room, see if we can reconnect. Best case scenario, we switch with the doctors again. Worst case, the stones were destroyed in the explosion.”

If that happened then they were truly on their own out here. Truly alone in the universe.

“Go,” he tells David, and turns his radio off.

He crosses his arms and waits for things out of his control to play out.

* * *

Ginn comes in at a dead run and immediately she and Eli proceed to speak computer talk together. He ignores them and feels Rush’s forehead again. He’s like a limp doll.

Barnes shows up with a blood pressure wrist cuff and proceeds to take Rush’s vitals. She lifts his eyelids, and shines a light, then frowns. She times his breathing, and frowns again. She pulls aside Everett’s jacket and briskly rubs his sternum. Rush doesn’t twitch.

Barnes looks up at him. “I’d say he’s in a coma, but with the chair? We just don’t know very much. He’s breathing on his own, at least. Blood pressure is too low, and I don’t like his reaction to light. When’s he coming out of the chair, sir?”

“We don’t know.”

“Lieutenant Johanson probably can’t do anything until he’s out, sir. I’ve only had advanced first aid. Everybody with more medical training is helping with the kidney transplant.”

“Stick around, Corporal.” He turns to Eli. “Can we take him out?”

Eli shakes his head vigorously. “Nononono. That would definitely leave him brain damaged.”

“How damaged? Franklin was recovering, finally, before he sat back in the chair.” Everett retucks the jacket around Rush. Barnes shoots him an incredulous look, then obviously buries whatever she’s thinking under her usual poker face.

“At a guess, ten times worse than Franklin. I don’t think Rush would want you to do that.” Eli looks troubled. “Pretty sure he’d want to gamble that his brain will be downloaded back into his own head if we just wait this out. I mean, I don’t think this was a suicide attempt, do you?”

“No. Not now. If he’d pulled this while the Lucians had control of the ship, then, maybe. I think he had thought about it. But not now. He’s been better.”

“Yeah, a whole lot better.” Eli makes eye contact with him. “So, we’ll wait?”

“We’ll wait.”

* * *

James radios him. “Sir, the doctors haven’t come back. But we do have some help. Dr. Perry is here and she’s telling TJ- um, Lieutenant Johanson, what to do next. She said she’ll stay with us until the surgery is completed.”

“Tell Dr. Perry I want to talk to her when Greer and Volker are out of danger.”

“I wouldn’t advise that, Colonel,” a voice behind him says. The tone is cool, emotionless. He turns around and sees Franklin, well, the image of Franklin. “We need to talk, now, while Dr. Perry is distracted. I won’t have much time.”

To James, Everett says, “Hold off on that last order, Lieutenant,” and turns off his radio.

“Dr. Franklin,” he says, studying him. Franklin actually looks more put together than he had while he still had a body. His clothes seem clean and make him look like the university professor he’d once been, with no trace of the bloodstain from when Greer had shot him for trying to escape through the gate. His hair was much neater than Everett remembered, and he was clean shaven. “I’m listening.”

Still looking deadpan, Franklin says, “Let me explain.” He pauses and gives Eli a smirk. “No, there is too much. Let me sum up.”

Practically choking, Eli interrupts, “Princess Bride. Jesus, are you really – you?”

“Yes. And so is Amanda Perry. Destiny hasn’t changed who we were when we had bodies. Listen, Amanda’s trapped Rush in that simulation and he can’t escape. You’ll have to stop it by shutting it down from the outside.”

“That’s risky,” Eli warns. “Are you saying she’s kidnapped him?”

Franklin rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Amanda loves him, and she didn’t intend for this to happen. Really, it’s Rush’s fault. She built into the simulation what she thought was a problem free escape hatch. In order to leave, all he had to do was feel love for her, too.”

“I’m. I’m pretty sure he does love her,” Ginn says. “Are you saying he doesn’t?”

“He was all moony about her, whenever she was on the ship,” Eli chimes in. “For sure, he cares about her a lot.”

Franklin says evenly, “That may be, but Destiny used what she learned from Rush himself. She’s taken his feelings for his late wife as the standard he has to meet.”

“Oh. Oh, crap,” Eli says, and turns to look at Everett. “If I pull the plug, it will mean that Dr. Perry and, well, Franklin, too, won’t be able to contact us anymore. They’ll be locked out. Is that what you want me to do? What about the surgery?”

Franklin says, with a nod to Everett. “You’ll have to choose, Colonel. Quarantine us now, and Volker and Greer might die without Amanda’s assistance to TJ. But Rush will live. Probably. There may be. . . problems. Hold off for much longer and he may never recover. He was never meant to be like this for so long. Amanda gambled that an hour or two would not risk him, but it’s been close to eight hours now.”

Eli whistles. “Does he know what’s going on?”

Franklin slowly nods. “He does. Amanda tried to convince him that he’d left the simulation, so she could steal some time to figure out a solution. He saw through it, though. Actually blew up the ship, he was that convinced he was still in the simulation.”

Looking directly into Everett’s eyes, Franklin says, “He’s been trying to convince her that he does love her, but she doesn’t believe him anymore. He doesn’t deserve someone like her.”

Sharply, Everett asks, “Does she know you’re here, warning us?”

Franklin shakes his head. “I couldn’t come until her attention was split between the simulation and the surgery. She’s panicked over what she’s done. She doesn’t want to kill Rush, or hurt him, but she doesn’t want to be quarantined, either. She thinks she can come up with some other solution. But Colonel, time is running out for Rush. I thought you should know.”

He disappears then, and Eli looks with dismay to Everett.

“Holy Crud, I can do what Franklin said, but what about Volker and Greer? And Amanda Perry is a genius, no lie. If she finds out that we know what’s going on, she can take steps to protect herself. If she does, then I think Rush won’t make it out.”

Everett glances down at Rush. He’s helpless; if he could have found a way out of the simulation on his own, he would have done so by now.

Eli bites his lip, then says, “Colonel, what do you want me to do?”

Everett takes a deep breath, and gives Eli his orders.

* * *

Chapter 24: Coming Back

Rush is running through the corridors of Destiny, and it’s absolutely urgent that he reach. . .

He’s striding down the hallways of the University and sees his Maths professor. He has questions for the woman. He’s been doing some research and he thinks he sees a solution to one of the non-solved problems she’s posed them in class. . .

He turns around from the whiteboard at the SGC to see that David Telford has brought him coffee again. Whatever for? He can’t fathom why Colonel Telford has been indulging him like this. Still, he smiles gratefully at the man and takes the large container from his hand, inhales the scent of his favorite brew and takes a sip. . .

His Da has passed out in his chair again and with a sigh he fetches a blanket and covers him up, takes the empty bottle of whiskey and tosses it in the bin. He sits down with the Calculus textbook he’d stolen. The stupid woman in charge of the library hadn’t let him check it out, saying an eight year old was too young to understand the problems. . .

“RUSH!!” Colonel Young is bellowing at him and he rolls his eyes, wondering what has the Colonel so hot and bothered now. He deliberately keeps his gaze on the console, taking a perverse pleasure in annoying the man. . .

Terror floods him as the aliens attach a device to his head and force him into the waiting tank of water. The water closes over his head and he pounds on the glass wall and he can’t hold his breath much longer and he screams in his head at them. I can’t breathe the bloody water, I need air, I’m no like you! I need air to breathe!

He slips sunglasses on to hide the redness of his eyes, and braces himself for the ordeal of Gloria’s funeral. Constance is here, to drive him to the church. He’s fair sure it’s something Gloria asked her to do, to look after him during the service. He should tell her he’s fine, that she needn’t bother, but he’s too tired and worn to turn her away.

Mandy’s eyes are full of tears as she tries to stop him from blowing up the ship. It’s not real, he’s absolutely positive it’s not and he knows he’s trapped in the simulation. Explosions fill the air and everything goes dark until it resets and he’s back on the observation desk. Mandy is beside him, in her pretty blue dress, and bare feet and he knows that whatever she’d done, she’d hadn’t meant for this to happen. She didn’t trust him enough to tell him that things had gone bottoms up and that hurts, it does, but he’s not going to get angry with her. This is a problem they need to work, and he tells her so.

He’s lying in bed with Gloria, feeling absolutely lazy and sated and content. He idly strokes her hair, so golden and long, and pulls her to him. He kisses her temple and asks her to marry him. Her smile as she agrees is incandescent.

He is forced to meet the video playing genius who solved the problem he hadn’t gotten his head around to completing. The boy is slovenly and he’s thrown away a scholarship; Rush worked two bloody jobs, no helping hand for him, in order to get his degree. They couldn’t be more different, but he’ll work with the lad, and not only because he’s been ordered to do so. Brilliant talent like that shouldn’t be left to molder on a basement couch, living off a hardworking mother.

Chloe Armstrong plows into him, furious and hurting, and he lets her pummel him as he is slammed to the ship’s deck. Her father was a brave man, and he died for this child. Rush won’t let his sacrifice be in vain. . . He sees the girl in the tank and he breaks her out, flies her back to Destiny, and he thinks of her father. . . Chloe’s eyes glaze over as she stares at the math problem he’s chalked on the wall, and this girl who had told him herself that she had no skill for higher math, solves for a variable that has been troubling him for weeks. Those blue bastards did this to her, but perhaps the damage they did can serve her, serve the ship and the crew. He doubts Colonel Young will see it that way and decides to keep this to himself for as long as he can. . .

Colonel Young is carrying him from the mess and he cries into the man’s shoulder, exhausted and damned. . .

A tall blond man introduces himself as Dr. Daniel Jackson. . .

He’s stuck in Telford’s body and Kiva comes at him with a pain stick and he arches in pain, and she again demands to know who he is, and he’s fucked, he is. . .

The alien sky is beautiful. He floats on his back in the small pool and for this stolen time feels content and relaxed. Colonel Young’s hands support him when he starts to sink and help him find again the balance he needs to stay afloat. . .

His ribs hurt and his nosebleed is certainly a gusher, but the boys who thought he’d be an easy mark have learned otherwise. . .

The stargate turns and he waits, tense, still not quite believing everything Jackson has told him. Then it engages and he’s staring at a blue quivering field. Uniformed men start walking slowly through it and down the ramp. . .

He closes Spencer’s dead eyes, and takes the gun in his hand. This sad situation could be made to work for him, to buy some time. He’ll plant the gun in Young’s quarters and he’s fair sure that the man will have to step down, at least for a time and maybe Rush will get the access to the neural interface chair he needs. It’s a shame he has to go to this length, but the man is just not being reasonable. It’s not like Young would actually be found guilty, after all. . .

“It’s back,” Gloria tells him. . . He can’t bloody think, as they both listen to the doctor about the cancer treatments. . . “Nick, I can’t do this anymore. I’m stopping the chemo and radiation. . .

He’s running through alleys, taking a shortcut home from school. . .

The baby’s crying slows down and finally stops as he finishes swaddling her and picks her up. He rather enjoys the dumfounded look on Colonel Young’s face that this simple trick worked. The wean smells of milk and innocence, and she knows nothing of what happened to him with the Lucians. The only crew member who hadn’t seen his degradation and torture. . .

Mandy and he are naked on this pretend bed, in this pretend room on this pretend ship. She gives him a smile tinged with apprehension and, fuck, she deserves better than this. He’s just not been able to relax and be in the moment, so worried that he’ll have another panic attack. He tries again to banish these negative thoughts and think only of her, his sweet Little Miss Brilliant. Maybe it’s a self fulfilling prophecy, but he does indeed have another panic attack when she strokes his penis. She’s too concerned for his difficulties to enjoy his touches, he thinks. In the end, neither of them are able to achieve orgasm, and Mandy tries so hard to hide her disappointment, but he knows. He can’t stand this, his ability to be intimate held hostage still to Kiva. He never should have agreed to come here, he should have done something to fix himself before dragging poor Mandy into the mess that’s been made of his sexuality. Hell, he hadn’t even been masturbating, why did he think he could be the lover Mandy wanted?

He and the lad who’d bought him a drink in this dive of a bar stumble out into the back alley and exchange kisses. He’d been restless and he’s not been laid in quite the while, so why not enjoy him? He doesn’t want to know his name or where he works or goes to school. His partner feels the same, apparently, because he’s not asking Nick’s name either. Fine with him. Simple sex is what he wants, and no strings. . .

Strings. . . He’s three and old enough to know how to tie his shoes. “Stop pouting,” the neighbor girl tells him. She’d called him a baby when her mother ordered her to help him. His Da made him stay with them this week, while he went off on some job. He tries again to tie his shoes . . .

Shoes . . . Kiva won’t let him wear any, and he knows this is to show his slave status to the Lucians and the crew.

The Lucians and the crew . . They’re all here in the Mess, and they’re all watching him or fucking him or pissing on him or staring at him with sad eyes. Don’t look at me, he wants to scream, but he’s too defeated for that, and he just opens his sore mouth for another man to shove his dick into it. He looks up to see that this time it’s Telford. . .

Telford. . . He’ll not let him die strapped to the Neural Interface Chair. . .

The Neural Interface Chair, it’s marvelous and he has to be allowed to explore its potential. Nobody can stop him, not even Colonel Young.

Colonel Young’s lips are smooth and his body solid and he’s kissing this man for the greater good. He’ll not let him sacrifice himself when there’s a better solution. Young is kissing him back when Rush injects him with the alien venom.

Alien venom. . . Watching the alternative timeline on Eli’s kino was very strange. He’s amused that he and the Colonel both like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid. They need that venom, though, or they’ll all die from drinking the contaminated water. . .

Water, he’s so thirsty, he’s dying for it, but he’s not going to cooperate with Kiva. . .

Kiva terrifies him, and she’s running her hands through his butchered hair and snipping the ends like he’s her pet and she is going to control his life now till he dies. She’s making him the crew’s whore. . .

“Whore,” the crew jeer at him as Koz strips him naked in front of them all and he wakes up gasping from the nightmare.

“Nightmare?” he asks Chloe, as she joins him in the Mess for a cup of tea. She looks shaken, and she nods, and clasps her hands together to stop the slight tremors he can see. They sit in silence and it’s comforting to have her with him. He wishes the aliens had never taken her, and it’s still amazing to him that they both had escaped from the Nakai. . .

The Nakai are relentless in their pursuit of Destiny. . .

Destiny. The Ancient ship is his destiny; he know that with every fiber of his being. The secrets embedded within the walls of this ship will be his life’s work. He’s not leaving, even if they find a way to send the crew home. . .

Home is a cold place without Gloria to share it, and he makes arrangements to sell the place. He’s moving into the SGC for now and then on to the Icarus Base.

Icarus Base is under attack from the Lucians and they can’t dial Earth, it would be catastrophic and he shoves the man aside and dials the ninth chevron. . .

Ninth Chevron. . . Destiny. . . Colonel Young . . . Stranded on a desert planet. . . Fighting aliens. . . Torture. . . Lucians. . . Pain. . . Colonel Young’s jacket. . . Hidden screwdriver. . . Killing Simeon. . . Greer’s comforting him. . . Greer fighting with him. . . Greer. . . Greer’s voice. . .

“Doc, you awake?” That is Greer’s voice. External, not internal. He has a confused sense that his brain has been chopped up into little pieces and all his memories thrown up into the air and haphazardly reassembled.

He slowly opens his eyes, and then shuts them again. My God, what happened to him? He feels dizzy and sick and so tired.

“Doc? C’mon, man. It’s been a week since Colonel Young took you out of the chair.”

He tries to give a wave of his hand to Greer, to let him know he hears him, even if talking seems like too much trouble. He stiffens in alarm. He can’t move, and a quick survey tells him his ankles and both wrists are tied to this gurney.

His breath quickens and he struggles against the restraints. Someone is screaming, and he feels hands on his body, controlling him. They’re going to rape him and he fights, but it’s hopeless and he loses muscle control as he feels himself fall into unconsciousness. They’ll do what they want and he can’t stop them.

* * *

He opens his eyes, feeling strange, weak and confused. The lighting is low, and he sees Colonel Young sitting at his desk, working on paperwork, glasses perched on his nose. He’s in the Colonel’s bed and he has no idea how he got here.

He runs a hand down his body. He’s wearing a T-shirt and boxers. All right, then. He’s maybe not here to have sex with the man, since he’s wearing clothing. Had he drunk Lieutenant Johansen’s green brew and fallen asleep on his feet and the Colonel deposited him here because his room was nearby? That had happened before.

Hadn’t it?

Yes, he sure he’s slept here before and it’s a comfortable bed. It’s big, much larger than his own. He feels tired and he could fall back asleep, but instead he shoves the blankets away and swings his feet to the floor. His head is swimming.

Had he and the Colonel been drinking? He certainly feels hung over. He just sits there on the edge of the bed since standing up seems to be a very bad idea right now.

Colonel Young’s eyes snap to his and he brings a radio to his lips. “TJ? He’s awake and sitting up.”

He can’t make out what the Lieutenant is saying back, but her tone of voice is brisk.

The Colonel puts the radio down and crosses his arms, watching him. Waiting for something, he supposes. He tries to speak, stops, clears his voice. “Hello,” he croaks, and Young moves quickly to his side.

“Hi,” he answers back, and his voice sounds very neutral. It makes Rush want to twitch. The man is holding back what he really feels. This could be bad, then.

He puts a hand up to his pounding head. “Wha’ happened?”

“You don’t remember?” The Colonel takes Rush’s other hand and places a water bottle in it. “Take a drink, Nick. You’ve got to be thirsty since the IV was taken out.”

IV? But he is thirsty and so he brings up the bottle and drinks slowly. His hand is shaking and he feels cold. He must be sick. But why is he here instead of the infirmary? He hands the empty bottle back to Young. It doesn’t matter. He starts to lie down again, but the Colonel sits down beside him and stops him.

“Not yet, champ,” Young says, and his arm is around him. “TJ needs to check you out first.”

He thinks he remembers Greer talking to him. “Was Greer?”

“Greer’s in the infirmary. He’s had some trouble since the kidney operation. You were there, too, but since you freaked out when you started to wake up – you were in restraints -TJ and I decided you might do better in here. You’re not going to hurt yourself if you fall out of this bed.”

“I was tied up again and they were going to fuck me?”

“No. No, Nick. God.” The Colonel sounds anguished. “You were thrashing around and TJ was afraid you’d end up hurting yourself. Nobody was going to rape you. I promise, nobody was going to do anything to you. You’re going to stay here till you feel better and nobody is going to hurt you, okay?”

“M’ head hurts,” he tells Young, as if he was sharing a secret.

“I don’t doubt it. Do you remember what you did? You’ve been out of it for a week.”

He tries to remember but it just makes his head worse. He murmurers “No,” and lays his head on Young’s shoulder. He wants very badly to go back to sleep.

Maybe he does doze off because Lieutenant Johansen is there and prodding him and poking at him, and she makes him stand up and walk a little bit and he’s stumbling and the Colonel takes him by the elbow and helps him to his bathroom and then back into bed.

He falls asleep to the sound of voices talking about him.

* * *

He wakes, sometimes he eats or washes up before he sleeps again. Then he does it again, and again and again. His dreams are bizarre and every time he wakes up, someone is with him. Colonel Young, Lieutenant Johansen, Colonel Telford, Lisa Park, Eli, and Ginn.

Everyone asks the same question. “Do you remember what you did?”

He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t ask for them to tell him. They don’t enlighten him.

But he’s getting better, he can tell. He’s staying awake longer, and his head doesn’t hurt as much.

Eli is there when he wakes up this time. He gazes around the room. He’s still in Colonel Young’s quarters. Eli is playing with his computer on the couch. Rush takes stock. The headache is nothing worse than he’s experienced when deprived of caffeine. He pushes aside the blankets and gets to his feet. Eli hurriedly puts down the laptop and jumps up, walks quickly over to Rush’s side.

“Hello,” Rush says.

“Yes, okay, hello back,” Eli says, sounding a little exasperated. “You’re surprisingly congenial when you’ve got brain damage. Are you hungry, thirsty, need the bathroom?”

“Aye, I could do with a wash and something to eat.”

“O-kay,” Eli says, and the lad is hovering. “Show me you can walk by yourself without tripping over your feet, and you can have alone time in the Colonel’s bathroom.”

“Eli.”

“Oh, no, you don’t get to ‘Eli,’ me, Doc.” Eli has a mulish look to his face. “Do you even know that you passed out twice and Telford had to carry you back to bed both times?”

He didn’t remember that. “No.”

“It’s no wonder that Colonel Young keeps saying that you’re a lot of work.”

“Where is he, then?” He takes careful steps towards the bathroom.

“Colonel Young is sleeping in your room since he gave up his room to you. He’s generally been here doing paperwork, but a lot of us have been babysitting you when he’s busy or sleeping.”

“I’m not a baby. I know how to bloody well tie my shoes.” He’s made it to the bathroom and slams the door in Eli’s face.

“Yeah, right, that made so much sense,” Eli says through the door. “Just, like, don’t slip in there.”

“I’m fine, you can go away.” He strips off his clothes and steps into the small shower, lets the warm mist cover his body and soak his hair. He uses the facilities when he’s finished and he dresses himself in the clean clothes he finds there. He slides on his jacket, Colonel Young’s jacket, and so what if an unwilling comparison to a child’s favorite comfort stuffed toy comes to mind. He needs the jacket to keep warm. If it also is a symbol to him of the help he was given, and a comfort, that’s his own business and no one else has to know.

Eli is still there when he comes out, and once again, he’s back to hovering over him, pacing him as he walks to the couch and sits down.

Waiting until he finishes eating and drinking the small meal left for him, Eli finally asks the question. “Do you remember what you did?”

“I. . . Did I sit in the chair?” He searches his mind and clearly remembers it was urgent that he do so. He practically bowled over Lieutenant Scott, he was running that fast to get to the chair. “I remember that I did. But I don’t know why.”

“Yeah, you did sit in it.” Eli sighs and avoids eye contact with him. It’s no surprise to Rush when Eli walks away from him and radios Colonel Young. Ah, he senses a long lecture in his future. When Eli returns he plops himself down on the opposing couch with a sigh. “The Colonel is coming. This is a conversation I don’t want to have with you.”

“I must have had a very good reason,” Rush says carefully, “to sit in the chair. How long was I in it?”

“Ten hours more or less. I’ll tell you this, though, since I don’t think the Colonel will. He saved your life. When he took you out of the chair, you were having seizures. Bad ones. Four seizures in a row, and then you stopped breathing. He did CPR on you, got you back. You owe him. Doc.”

He feels shock running through him. Ten bloody hours in the chair! Why so long, what was his purpose?

He looks at Eli, and he understands that Eli was there, monitoring him. Eli likely knows why he did what he did. Eli doesn’t want to talk to him about it, and Eli is angry. Angry with him.

“You’re angry with me, for being in the chair?”

Eli blows out his breath in a long slow exhalation. “It was a stupid and reckless thing to do. You didn’t even get someone to be a spotter for you. We were looking everywhere for you and found you in it. Yes, I’m angry.” He shoots Rush an exasperated look. “I was worried about you. Everybody’s been worried.” He stares at Rush for a long moment. His expression softens, and he shakes his head. “Don’t look like that, Doc, like I just spun you a fairy tale that you wish was true, but you know it’s not. People on this ship care about you. You were an idiot to sit in the chair, but you’re our idiot and we don’t want you to die or end up with scrambled eggs for brains.”

He really doesn’t know what to say and he looks away from Eli’s intent gaze. “Yes, well.” And absolutely can’t find anything to add to that. He feels cold and wraps his arms around himself.

Eli gets up from the small couch across from him and gathers the dirty plate and utensils. “Becker said to bring these back, not let them pile up in the room anymore. I’m not about to tick off our cook, never mind that he could squash me with like, one finger.”

The boy is exaggerating. Becker must be six foot six or seven, but he’s a gentle man, and Rush hasn’t ever seen him even scowl at anyone. He flashes on the way his own room had accumulated dishes and feels a tad guilty about it. And just when was the last time he’d washed his sheets? Seems to him that the Colonel made a bad bargain when he swapped rooms.

There’s a knock at the door and Eli heads for it like a lad who’d waited endlessly for the school bell to ring and now he’s free. He turns though, before opening the door. “Ginn, she, and me, too, um, want you to know that we’re very sorry for what had to happen. It was done to save you, okay? But we’re sorry, all right? We liked her, too.”

“Eli?” Rush feels a panicked feeling start to gather in his guts. “What?”

But Eli opens the door and steps out, with a murmur of “His comprehension and stamina, they’re better. You break it to him, okay?” Eli’s hurried steps echo a bit down the hall.

Colonel Young walks inside and looks him over. He has that thoughtful expression on his face, the one Rush used to think resembled a placid cow chewing cud. But there’s no blankness in that mind, but a relentless drive to assess, to put every last piece of the puzzle together to see the picture as it should be.

It’s unnerving to have that focus on him and he wraps his arms around himself tighter. The action seems to put an end to the scrutiny he’s receiving. The Colonel moves to the bed and takes a blanket off and drapes it around Rush before dropping down next to him on the small couch.

“You’re cold.” It was a statement, not a question. Was the Colonel showing that he knew Rush, that he could read him, that he was no mystery to him anymore? Ah, Eli was right. He was an idiot. His shivering was hardly subtle. Anyone would see he was cold.

He’s still shivering. The Colonel frowns and proceeds to highhandedly wrap the blanket tighter around him and sweep his hands up and down the thing, trying to warm him.

“Transfer of heat by conduction,” he says, more to himself than the Colonel.

“Yeah, Bill Nye, the Science Guy. Is it working?” Colonel Young asks him. “Or do you need to go back to bed?”

“No. Yes.”

“Clear as mud, Nick. Focus, okay, Genius? We’ve got things to talk about, but only when you’re ready. You’ve been very, very sick.”

“Eli says I’ve been an idiot.”

“Well, he’s not wrong. You almost died.”

“I know I sat in the chair. And no, I dinnae need to go back to bed, and yes, I’m feeling warmer.”

“Do you want me to stop with the transferring of heat by conduction?”

“Not. . . Not just yet.” It was comforting to feel the Colonel’s hands on him, and how things had changed between them. Once, the thought of the Colonel’s hands anywhere near him would have triggered his flight or fight response.

“Okay. What do you remember about sitting in the chair?” The Colonel pulls him close, puts his arm around him.

He doesn’t yank away. Perhaps he does the opposite.

He tells the Colonel everything he remembers, the urgency, the secrecy but he’s blank about the reason he felt he had to do this. There’s dread growing within him, a black hole in his gut of guilt and anxiety. He should remember why he sat in the chair. There is something wrong with him, and he’s very afraid he’ll be useless to the crew, to Young. To himself.

The Colonel says that there was no danger to the ship, but that there had been an attack on Homeworld Command by the Lucians, disrupting the surgeries on Greer and Volker when the doctors using Camile’s and Telford’s bodies had been abruptly returned to their own bodies. No one has made contact since then, Colonel Young says. Volker is fine, but Greer had some problems. With a sardonic glance at him, implying what he’s saying is also relevant to Rush, the Colonel tells him that now that Greer’s actually listening to TJ, he’s getting better.

“Nick,” Colonel Young says. “You sat in the chair because of Dr. Perry. The way Eli explained it, you uploaded your brain into Destiny so the two of you could. . . visit. He said it would feel real to both of you, and that you guys were using the simulation of Destiny that about drove me crazy.” The Colonel shifts a little so he can peer into Rush’s eyes. “Does this bring back anything to you?”

“Mandy?” he breathes out and he feels like he’s on the verge of understanding, that he’s one small slip of the foot from safety due to his ignorance into dangerous white waters of memory that will tumble him and drown him.

He doesn’t want to do this, but he must. He can’t stay safe tucked into the Colonel’s arms, and ignore what he did. He’ll have to face it and go on. And what of Mandy? He’s not thought of her once during the times he’s been awake, but now she’s all he can think about.

“Dr. Perry made a mistake in the parameters of the program and you couldn’t leave and return to your body. The only way to get you back was to come in from the outside and quarantine her, and Dr. Franklin, too, shutting down the simulation. Dr. Franklin told us what to do, but I made the decision to wait until TJ was out of the woods on the surgeries because Dr. Perry was helping her. I left it maybe too late. You weren’t in good shape when we got you out of the chair.”

He flashes suddenly on Mandy and him at the observation deck and how he’d blown up the ship, more sure that he was trapped in the simulation than he’d been sure of anything else in his life. He sees again the look on Mandy’s face as the flames engulfed them and the ship, and the resetting of the program as if it had never happened.

Lurching away from Young, he bends and buries his face in his hands and shakes uncontrollably, as the memories of what he’d done, what she’d done, all cascade in his head.

His fault, all his fault. He does love her, but she didn’t believe him and so the program didn’t believe him. And now she’s lost to him.

Young’s hand is heavy on his back, a solid quiet presence as he weeps into his hands. Finally, the tears are done and Young says, gently, “Dr. Franklin explained to us that Destiny used your feelings for your wife as the benchmark to meet with Dr. Perry. Of course your feelings for Dr. Perry were going to be different. I know you loved her, Nick. Destiny has a lot to learn about human feelings, the complexity of them. It wasn’t your fault that the AI didn’t get it.”

He sits up, wipes his face with the sleeve of his jacket. He supposes he ought to feel embarrassed at breaking down like this in front of the Colonel, but the man has seen far worse of him. And he’s very, very tired. He gets to his feet, Young doing likewise. The Colonel ends up escorting him to the bathroom, where he washes his face and blows his nose. Crying is such a messy business and there’s still a lump in his throat. He wants to sleep again, but he’s afraid he won’t. Perhaps just this once he’ll ask for the green brew. He asks the Colonel if there’s any in the room. There isn’t, but Young radios Lt. Johansen.

She comes and checks him over, watches him drink down a cupful of the evil stuff. He’s on medical leave, and tomorrow she’ll do some tests, she tells him. He’s fair sure she’ll be looking for brain damage.

Young sits down beside him on the bed after she leaves. He feels awful, his eyes hurt, his chest feels tight. It occurs to him that the Colonel hasn’t lectured him for his reckless behavior. It’s not like Young to pass up a chance to scold him. “I’m tired, Colonel,” Rush says. “If you’re going to give me a blistering lecture about what I did, best crash ahead with it before the wicked brew kicks in.”

“It’s Camile’s turn to give you hell,” Young says, and gives him a sideways hug. “I hear she’s even got footnotes prepared. Get some sleep, Nick. You’re gonna need your strength when she gives you what for.”

Young gets up and moves to the desk, fishes his glasses out of a drawer and settles down with what looks like a load of paperwork. Rush strips his clothes off down to his boxers and burrows under the covers. A few tears leak down his face, thinking of how he’d let Mandy down. He’s damaged, and he shouldn’t have tried any intimacy with her until he had fixed himself. He may never see her again and that is so painful. He did love her, he did. But maybe it had been a mistake to attempt the crossing from friends to lovers. Maybe they should have left it as friends.

He has to fix himself. One day, he might want to have sex again; he won’t let Kiva win, he just won’t. He needs something to get him over the fear and anxiety. Just willing himself to do it hadn’t worked. He needs something. Maybe he needs someone to help him, someone who he doesn’t have strong feelings about to give him a hand, so to speak. He’d had simple sex before in his life, as a young man. Back then, before Gloria, he’d not wanted the entanglement of a relationship. Just simple sex, a good time had by all with smiles on their faces as they said goodbye. That’s what he needs again. If he’d done that before trying to please Mandy, maybe he’d have been the lover she’d wanted.

He needs someone. He yawns, feeling sleep steal over him. He needs someone, but not anyone who might get hurt by his experimentation. Not someone who might convince themselves what was happening was love. Someone who’s practical, who can do hard things without batting an eye. Someone who can keep their mouth shut about fucking him. Someone who knows how to keep secrets.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters to himself when the name of the person who meets his requirements floats up from his muddled brain.
“Fuck me sideways,” he mumbles, and falls asleep.

* * *

Indeed, two days later, after Lt. Johansen has declared he’ll be fine in another week, Camile does give him a talking to that fair blisters his skin, but he doesn’t try to defend himself. She places an official reprimand in his record, although he hardly cares a jot about that.

He’s been mulling over actually talking to the person who fits his needs for working on his sexual trauma problems. It’s a huge step, and he waffles about just plunging in and doing it and thinking maybe his issues will disappear on their own. He thinks maybe he’ll just not have sex ever again. Then he sees Kiva’s knowing smile because she’s still got a choke hold on him, and his fists clench at the thought. He hates the thought that she’s still controlling his life. So, he thinks again that he should at least ask if his candidate would be willing to help him. Or maybe not bring it up. Fuck, he doesn’t know what to do.

Colonel Young collects him from Hydroponics one evening almost a week from when he’d learned what happened to Mandy. He’d assigned himself to help Lisa while still banned from his actual work and no one had objected. He’d moved back to his own quarters, too. Meals had arrived there, he supposes either Brody or the Colonel are responsible. Colonel Young has collected him a few times for chess and an evening meal. He supposes that’s what this time is about, but it turns out he’s wrong.

Colonel Young waves him into the room, locks the door. He points to where his laptop is sitting on the coffee table. “You asked me a while back to help you get over your panic attacks about the mess. I haven’t forgotten, but you needed some time to recover from being in the chair. I’ve got a kino feed set up from the mess area to my computer. We’re going to start with just pictures, no sound. I expect that you’ll feel anxious as hell, but we’re going to walk a line between uncomfortable and unbearable. You start a panic attack, I’m going to bring you out of it.” He puts a heavy hand on Rush’s shoulder. “So, you ready to tackle this, Nick?”

He wraps his arms around himself. He both wants and fears this. He flashes to how Young had helped him on the planet with the rotten fruit that smelled like semen, when the fruit had exploded all over him, and he’d panicked. Young had brought him out of it, then, and he does trust the man. He lifts his eyes to Young’s, and nods.

Young steers him over to the couch, sits down on the table in front of him The computer is right next to Young. He’s close enough to Rush to easily touch him. He takes Rush’s left hand in his own, holds it firmly. Rush looks at him. “Okay, some ground rules. I’m going to count. I want you to listen to me while you watch. Count along in your head or out loud, whatever you want. You start hyperventilating, your heart rate skyrockets, then you need to listen to me, keep your eyes on me. I got you, okay?”

The Colonel’s hand is warm, fingers thicker than his own, and he gives Rush a small squeeze, prompting him, he guesses, to respond to him. His hand around Rush’s is strong, protective, and he tells himself it will be alright to let this man look after him. He can let down his guard and accept what the Colonel is offering.

“Thank you,” he says softly. “Alright then, let’s give it a go.”

With his free hand the Colonel touches the computer and a view of a hallway fills the screen. People are walking down it and going into a room, or coming out of that room in groups, talking to each other, although he can’t hear them. Volker and Brody walk up to the kino and peer at it. He makes out that Volker says, “Eli,” but doesn’t catch the rest of what is said. Volker looks exasperated, Brody has his usual dead pan expression. The Colonel stops his soft counting. “Eli’s put the word out that he’s making kino recordings down there, for his documentary. Nobody but us three know what’s really going on.”

The Colonel watches him as he swallows, his mouth dry. This is the hallway to the mess. He feels his heart starting to pound and the Colonel says, “Count with me, Nick, while you watch. It helps to distract your brain when reviewing old trauma.”

He does so and they watch the hallway for a long time, and he can feel sweat rolling down his face, and his stomach churns. He’s glad he’s not eaten, he’d have probably have vomited if he had.

At length his heart and stomach have calmed down and he’s tired. He’s counted till his voice is hoarse and the hallway is empty of people. It’s late, most everyone has probably eaten and left. Finally Becker walks out of the mess and waves at the kino as he strides by.

He stares at the computer screen and remembers being on the table and seeing people enter, the looks of pity and shame and guilt directed towards him from the crew, laughter and glee and coarse remarks from the Lucians. Grimly, he keeps counting with the Colonel, and he feels anger building, anger at what happened to him.

Abruptly he stops counting and says instead, “Fuck them. Fuck them, the bastards. They had no right. They had no right.” He reaches out and closes the laptop.

Young doesn’t say anything, but he’s listening and the words spill out of Rush, anger and fear and the anxiety and shame, a torrent of feelings and he’s maybe crying, but he doesn’t stop until he feels emptied. The Colonel must sense that he wants his hand free because he lets go and Rush wipes his tears off with both hands, gets up and stumbles into the Colonel’s bathroom. He stays in there a time, washing his face over and over.

When he comes out, he’s as exhausted as he’s ever been and the Colonel has set up their supper. The computer is back on, but instead of the hallway, there’s a movie on pause.

He’s grateful. He’s too tired to play chess but he doesn’t want to go back to his room yet. He wants something normal to do and he’s hungry now. He sits down on the couch, and picks up his bowl of food, prods it with his fork. It smells a bit odd, but not in a bad way. Just foreign.

“What’s the movie?” He’s mildly curious, but right now he’d watch anything, even the Lord of the Rings.

“The African Queen,” the Colonel says. “It’s been making the rounds of the crew. Ever seen it?”

If he has, he doesn’t remember it. “I don’t think so.” He exhales slowly. Apparently therapy is extremely tiring. “Thank you.”

Young gives his shoulder a friendly shove. “You did good, Nick. You did fine. You hungry?”

“Aye.”

“Becker’s made some sort of casserole.” He turns on the computer and settles back, and begins eating as the movie begins.

It’s a very old film, and Rush recognizes the famous names of the main actors. He settles himself and takes a bite of Becker’s latest creation. Not bad, actually, and he finishes it off in no time. The movie is good, about two people who couldn’t be more different learning to work together. He wonders if the Colonel was trying to be clever and sending him a message about that.

By the time Charlie and Rosie blow up the German ship, he’s halfway asleep. He keeps awake till the end of the movie and then lets his eyes close. The Colonel is warm, sitting next to him and he’s very comfortable. He thinks he’ll just sleep right there on the Colonel’s couch for the night.

Instead, the Colonel ruthlessly pulls him up and off the couch. “C’mon, hot shot. I’ll walk you to your room.”

Rush makes a grumbling sound and tries for the bed, but the Colonel is on to him, it seems, because he finds himself briskly propelled out the door.

He knows he’s pouting, but he’s too tired to care. “You let me sleep in your bed before.”

“Yeah, I know.” The Colonel keeps walking, and makes sure that he does, too. “I thought about it, but Nick, that was before I kissed you back when you were busy drugging me. I’m not made of stone and I’d prefer to keep temptation away.”

“Oh.”

“You and me, right now, being more than friends wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

“I’m a fucked up mess.” He keeps his eyes on the corridor, not wanting to see the Colonel’s face right now.

“You’re not alone.” The Colonel has had him by the elbow but now he throws an arm over Rush’s shoulder. “I’ve just had my marriage fall apart. I think we have potential, but I know myself well enough to see it wouldn’t go well with us if we started up now. Besides, I’m kind of your therapist, and there are rules about that sort of thing, rules for a good reason. And you just lost someone you cared about.”

“You think you and I have potential?” He can hear the awkwardness in his voice. God, but he’s always been shite about this sort of thing.

“Yeah, Nick. We’ve thrown off sparks at each other since we met. But, I don’t want to crash and burn with you, and I’m pretty sure that’s what would happen now. I’ll take a raincheck, though, if you want.”

“For when we’re not both fucked up messes?” he says wryly.

“Yep.”

He thinks about that for a while. It would actually be a relief to know that nothing sexual would be on the table between them, for now. Maybe one day, though. But first he has to feel comfortable about intimacy again. He’s not going to make the mistake he made with Mandy with Young.

“I agree. To the, um, raincheck. Someday, maybe. If you still feel like it. And if I do.” His face feels hot and he’s glad the lights are dim in the corridors in the evenings.

“Good. Glad we settled that. Hey, TJ said you can go back to work tomorrow. I’ll come get you in the evening and we’ll tackle the mess again, okay? I thought you did great today. I’ll scrounge up another movie for afterwards.”

“I’m no opposed to that.”

It’s easy between them then, for the rest of the walk to his quarters. Young gives him another friendly shove at his shoulder by way of saying goodnight and he practically falls into bed.

Before he falls asleep, though, he makes up his mind. He’s going to do it. He’s going to see if his candidate will agree to help him with his intimacy problems.

He’ll do it tomorrow.

* * *

Chapter 25: Moving Forward

Everett looks up from the laptop on his desk. His door is open and Eli and Ginn are standing in the doorway, holding hands.

“Hey, Colonel. Got a minute? Ginn and I have something to tell you.” Eli’s beaming, but Ginn’s smile is more tremulous, a little anxious.

He makes a bet with himself that he knows what this is about, and he stands up, ushers them to the couches. They perch on one, hands still clasped.

He sits down across from them. His lips twitch, and he tries to not break into a smile just yet. “What’s the news?”

Eli clears his throat, glances at Ginn. “We, um, we’re going to get married. Here. On Destiny. We’ve been talking about the ceremony and we, I, wanted to ask you, if, um, would you stand with me?” His expression is serious, and Everett’s smile breaks free. He’s very, very fond of Eli. The boy has matured into a fine man since landing on Destiny, and Everett suspects that if Eli hadn’t solved the Ancient algorithm Nick had embedded in that video game and joined the SGC, he’d be obsessively playing those video games, maybe still unemployed, and not living up to his potential.

Clearing his throat again, Eli says, “It would mean a lot to me. You’ve believed in me since we met, didn’t see me as just a slacker kid, and you’ve been kind of a mentor, too. So, you’ll say yes, won’t you? Please?”

Everett reaches across and clasps both of their hands. “I’d be honored, Eli, Ginn.”

“Oh, good,” Eli says, relieved. “Now we just have to ask, um?” He turns to Ginn, and Everett lets go.

Ginn raises her chin a little. “I would like to ask Dr. Rush to stand with me, and Camile. She’s been so kind to me, helping me adjust to being part of the crew. And Dr. Rush, he forgave me for my part in his torture. He protected me from Dannic, saved my life at a cost to his own. He’s been very good to me, treats me like the rest of the Science Team.”

“Not exactly,” Eli interrupts. “He’s actually nicer to you and Lisa then the rest of us.”

“What do you mean, he saved you from Dannic?” Everett asks. He doesn’t think he’s heard about this.

Ginn bites at her lip, and Eli tightens his hand around hers. “Dannic, he was strangling me – he didn’t like scientists, and he couldn’t understand us, so he would hurt us, sometimes kill us, the others like me – and Dr. Rush, he made a false alarm go off to distract him. It worked, but if Dannic had figured out what Dr. Rush did, he’d probably have killed him. He did hurt him, grabbed him by his hair and cracked his head over and over against the console. Dr. Rush, he was unconscious for a while from that. When he came to, he was confused and he had a, a, - -” Ginn looks at Eli. “What is the word?”

“Chloe told me he had a flashback to being in the mess,” Eli adds. “She talked Varro out of punishing him for not obeying Ginn and the other Lucians. Rush was disoriented, didn’t do what they said right away.”

It heartens Everett to hear that Nick had done what he did for Ginn during the time when he was probably the most terrified of what the Lucians had done and could still do to him. And Chloe. Brave, brave Chloe. Her situation was becoming intolerable, although Nick is certainly pleased with her new math abilities. He has her running all sorts of calculations, although the solution to that last problem Destiny gave them to solve, the key to discovering the Ancient’s mission for Destiny, is still eluding all of the Science Team. If he wants to hear Nick rant, he only has to ask him how the problem solving is going. No matter. His money’s on Nick figuring out the mission, even though these last few weeks he’s been pretty distracted with his grief over Amanda Perry and his struggle to regain his autonomy.

Chloe now has blue raised patterns of hard, scaly like skin all over her body. On her, they manage to look kind of pretty. Exotic sort of tattoos, maybe. They’d stopped growing, and they look more like vines wrapped around her skin. She has plenty of her own skin showing. She still had these times when her attention turns inward. He can’t help but think she searches for the Nakai at those times, trying to connect to their semi-hive mind. He resists sighing. He doesn’t want to dwell anymore on Chloe. None of them can help her. So, he thinks instead about the two kids here with him now.

Grinning, he asks, “How about I ask Dr. Rush to come here right now?”

Ginn and Eli look at each other. Eli raises his eyebrows and tilts his head a little toward her in an unspoken question. She answers in the same nonverbal mode, pursing her lips and then giving Eli a small nod.

“Okay, we’re in.” Eli says, although there’s a hint of trepidation in his voice.

* * *

Nick strides into the room, looking annoyed. “What is it, Colonel? You know, I do have actual work waiting.”

Everett looks him over. He’s obviously tired again, but they’ve been finishing up their attempts to make him comfortable with going into the mess in plenty of time for him to get enough sleep. Over the last few weeks, he’s asked Nick if he’s sleeping okay. Nick had admitted to the occasional nightmare, especially the last few times when they’d actually gone to the mess and sat there, playing chess and drinking tea. But they hadn’t met for the last three days, and he doesn’t look rested at all. There are dark circles under his eyes, and there’s a burr of exhaustion to his voice. He’d better not have been staying up all night, working. They’ll have words if that’s been the case, since there’s been no emergency.

Nick looks at Ginn and Eli and his brows draw together in confusion. “What’s this about, then?”

Ginn rises, walks over to where Nick is standing. She takes his hand, and a startled look crosses his face, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Doc, Eli and I are going to get married. Would you stand with me? During our wedding? I would really like that. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even be here, and you’ve made me part of the Science Team. Please?”

The look of wonder on Nick’s face as Ginn makes her request is kind of heartbreaking. He starts to say something, kind of chokes, then manages to say, his voice thick with emotion, “Aye, lass. O’ course I’ll stand with you.”

Nick pulls Ginn into a hug, and Everett is so proud of him for doing that he feels like cheering. He’s getting better, he’s really recovering. Eli gets up and Nick turns Ginn loose, holds out his hand towards Eli. They shake, and Nick tells him congratulations, and then Eli hugs him, too.

Nick is smiling when Eli stops his bear hug, and he glances over at Everett. “I’m standing up with Eli,” Everett says. “So, kids, when’s the wedding going to be?”

“Soon as we can get things set up,” Eli says. “I hear Camile’s on Earth. We thought we’d get her to help with all the details.”

Ginn looks at Nick. “I’m going to ask Camile to stand with me, too.”

He nods, looks at Everett. “When are she and Colonel Telford returning from Earth?”

They’ve gone to talk to the IOA mostly, besides the usual reports to Homeworld Command. David was going to see if he could get the IOA off Nick’s back, and he’d gotten Camile to back him. He’d just smiled when Everett had asked if that was the favor Nick was owed from him. No, he’d said. This is a freebie. Rush doesn’t know I’m doing it.

“Camile should be back tomorrow,” Everett tells them. Camile was taking some time to be with her wife. “Colonel Telford should be back in a few hours.” He didn’t know why David had been so eager to get back by tonight, by ship time, but he’d been certain he’d return by the evening.

“Well, when do you want to tell the crew?” Everett asks Ginn and Eli.

“After we talk to Camile,” Ginn says.

Everett grins at them. “Why don’t you two come by here after supper and we’ll have a celebratory drink. Nick, you, too. We could play cards afterwards.”

Nick shoots him a look, but murmurs agreement. He’s still looking a little shell shocked.

“Well,” Eli says, “we’ve been working on improving the shields. Guess we’ll get back to it. After you, Doc.” The three of them move towards the door.

Everett smiles to himself as they leave. The first wedding on the ship. He wonders who they’ll get to marry them, since he’s going to play the part of a parent for Eli, but if they don’t have a candidate in mind, he’ll have a suggestion. Then a grumpy wail from the open door between his quarters and Carmen’s turns his attention to his daughter’s needs. He and TJ had talked two weeks ago and they’ve returned to their former living arrangements, with Carmen’s room between theirs. TJ’s at the infirmary, and he’s on daughter duty. He enters her room and Carmen is rocking on her hands and knees, fussing. He picks her up and cuddles her. She snuggles into him and he takes in the scent of innocence. He loves this. He loves being a father.

“Now, what was that all about?” he croons to his girl. “Let’s get you changed, and then we’ll take a walk and find your mom. I bet you’re hungry. Sound like a plan?”

For an answer, Carmen stuffs her fingers in her mouth and starts sucking. He laughs, and gets on with the plan.

* * *

It’s Nick’s turn to deal, and he does it as he does everything, efficiently and quickly, and Everett likes to watch his hands as he slides cards to himself, Everett, Ginn, and Eli.

Eli shudders after taking a small, cautious sip of Brody’s moonshine and making a face at the taste. He puts his glass down on the coffee table and says, his voice almost casual, but not quite, “So, we were going to ask if we can use the manufacturing plant to make us some wedding clothes. I know it can, me and Brody and Dr. Inman have been running some tests and the 3-D printer is really cool.”

“It’s a question of allotting our dwindling energy to something that’s strictly speaking, no really necessary,” Nick throws in, as he looks over his cards. “But--” he smiles at Ginn,“if a lass wants a pretty dress for her wedding, I suppose we can rebudget the energy needed from somewhere else.”

“You could do with some new clothes, too,” Eli points out. He has a point. The soft yoga pants Nick was given after his jeans were destroyed by the Lucians are fast wearing out. There’s been a number of rips that have either been ignored or halfheartedly stitched back together. Yoga pants were never meant to withstand the abuse his chief scientist puts them through, crawling into tubes and scooting under broken consoles. He supposes he can authorize Nick to use some of the desert BDUs that are in common use, but he’d rather avoid the complaints that would spring up of favoritism. The entire crew needed new clothes.

“We need to recharge soon anyway,” Everett says. “How about we go hunting for a suitable star and let everybody on the ship have a new outfit, starting with the wedding party. Eli needs at least a better shirt for his wedding day.”

“And a vest,” Ginn adds, looking a little mischievous. “I liked the one Doc used to wear. Something like that, I think.”

“I’ll put Volker onto looking for the right star for us,” Nick mutters, staring hard at his cards, like he doesn’t want anyone to see his eyes. “Since he never tires of announcing that he’s an astrophysicist.”

Everett gives him a sharp glance, not liking the bitter tone that he heard in Nick’s voice. He has a feeling something’s happened again between those two, something that’s eating at Nick. They haven’t worked on his difficulty with the mess for a few days, Nick saying he had some other work that needed his attention, so they’re due for a session. He’ll ask Nick to go with him to the mess after the kids go back to their own quarters, instead of playing a game of chess. Then, he’ll see what’s happened with Volker, although he can make an educated guess. Volker still can’t look at Nick without seeing him naked on the table, being tortured, being raped. It makes him awkward around Nick, and of course Nick picks up on that. It’s actually thrown him into flashbacks a few times, which doesn’t help Volker with his problem at all.

Nick’s frowning now and he’s hunching in on himself. Whatever memories have just been stirred up, this isn’t the time to deal with them. He knows Nick would hate to have some sort of outburst right now, when he’s trying so hard to act like a normal guy playing cards with his coworkers. His friends.

Eli is well aware of the issues between Volker and Nick, and he shoots Everett a look that says, “Hey, I’ve got this.”

“So, are we going to play Hearts or not? Who’s got the two of clubs?” Eli throws out, and then starts a barrage of questions to Rush about their current project with the shields.

Answering Eli brings Rush out of the dark thoughts that had begun to overwhelm him and Everett thinks again, not for the first time, that Eli’s intelligence isn’t just limited to mathematics.

After Rush won that hand, Everett asks Eli and Ginn, “If you’re looking for someone to marry you, since I’ll be with you guys, TJ could do it. She told me once that as a joke, her sister signed her up to be some kind of minister. Paid maybe ten dollars to make it legal. It’s nondenominational.”

“Really?” Eli says. “Ginn?” They do that communication thing without talking and then Ginn says, “We would very much appreciate it if TJ would marry us. We’ll go talk to her when the game is over.”

“She’s with the baby in her quarters,” Everett tells them. “And I know she’ll be pleased to be asked.”

“I wish. . .” Eli says, then stops. “I know we can’t, but I wish my mom could be here for the ceremony.”

“And why not?” Rush asks. “I’m sure Camile could arrange that.”

“I wish your mom could be here also, but the IOA has refused to allow family to use the stones. I’m sorry,” Everett says regretfully.

“Fuck the IOA,” Nick mutters. It brings a small grin to Eli’s face.

“I have no family,” Ginn says. “They’ve all died. When I learned that, as heartbreaking as it was, I also knew I could try to free myself from the Alliance finally. There was no one held hostage for my compliance anymore. I would like to meet Eli’s mother, though.”

Everett shrugs. “Well, I see no reason you can’t use the stones and go with Eli to visit her, but remember, she’s not read into the program. She doesn’t know it’s really Eli who comes to see her. As a matter of fact, I’ll get someone to exchange after this game and get things rolling, okay?” Ginn smiles at him with gratitude and Eli nods his thanks.

It’s his turn to deal, so he turns his attention back to the game. He likes this, having friends over, and he’s not tempted in the least to guzzle down the moonshine. He decides he needs to invite people over more often. Maybe next time TJ and James, and of course, Nick, for another round of card games.

* * *

Nick isn’t drunk, or even tipsy after the card party breaks up, but he’s a little looser in his walk, there’s less tension in his face and he’s talkative tonight, as they walk down the hallway to the mess. He stops at the entrance, surveying the tables and chairs. They’re alone, and the lights are dim. Nick takes a deep breath and steps inside. “We forgot the chess set,” he says.

“We?” Everett asks. He’d radioed and reminded Rush to bring his set to the card party.

Nick gives him a slight shove. “Yes, all right, ‘I’ forgot to bring it.”

“Do you want us to go get it?” Thinking about the chess moves had helped Rush maintain his hold on his emotions during their sessions. He’d still had flashbacks and breakdowns, even so. But, he’d been steadily getting better.

“No. Let’s. . . let’s try this without it. I can’t be playing chess every time I come here.”

“Okay. Want some tea?”

Nick nods and goes and sits down, choosing a back table by a wall and not one near the door. That also showed his progress. When they’d first started coming inside, he’d chosen tables next to the exit. Everett deliberately takes his time making their tea, giving Nick a chance to handle things a little more on his own.

After they’d sipped on their tea, Nick runs a hand over the table top. “Do you know, I stop and think every time before I take one step into this room how the table was destroyed by the gate? How the explosion outwards broke it down to atoms and how it can never be reassembled. How my blood and tears that stained it were destroyed as well.”

“I’m glad we did that, then. It seemed right at the time, although we cleaned it first.”

Nick looks startled. “What?”

He deserves to know, so Everett tells him how the table had been left untouched by Kiva’s orders, to intimidate the crew. How the night they took back the ship, thanks to Nick, he and Eli, Chloe and the others had washed it clean, for him, for themselves, to show that Kiva’s reign of terror was over.

“I was so angry when I saw it had been left like that,” Everett tells him. “TJ helped me take it down a notch.”

“Kiva would have hurt anyone who defied her,” Nick says, a faraway look in his eyes. “I’m no for holding it against the crew that they didn’t clean it against her orders.” He eyes Everett. “You made a speech, I’m thinking, about cleaning the damn thing.”

“Yep.” He’s learned a lot about Nick since the Alliance took Destiny, but the reverse is also true. Nick knows him much better now. Things between them that once would have irritated and annoyed each other don’t set them off these days.

Nick smiles, a small and indulgent one, that he tries to wipe away with a hand. Doesn’t really work though.

So. Time to bring up Dale Volker. “Hey. What’s got you upset with Volker?”

Nick scowls. “And here I was having a nice time, drinking tea, and not having a panic attack.”

“Nick. Come on. You think I can’t tell something happened again? I heard it in your voice tonight.”

“Yes, well.” He crooks an arm and starts rubbing at his shoulder muscle.

“Want some help with that?” Nick’s attempts to release whatever knots him up are always ineffective, from what Everett has seen. When he gets a nod of assent, he stands up and moves behind Nick, and begins working on the tight muscles, sliding his hands under Nick’s jacket, but over his T-shirt.

“So, what happened?” he says quietly.

“Are you ordering me to tell you, Colonel?” Nick sounds edgy, and once Everett would have fallen for the trap Nick just laid, to be distracted into an argument over the chain of command or military rule versus civilian rights. He’s smarter than that now.

“You know I’m not. But it might help to talk about it,” he answers him gently.

Nick sighs, and his head drops a little forward, as Everett’s fingers work the tense muscles.

They stay silent for a while, and Everett doesn’t push. It’s up to Nick if he wants to share his troubles. It’s more important that he be allowed that control rather than forcing him to talk. For the most part, Nick’s back to making his own decisions, but occasionally, when someone uses a forceful enough tone with him, he’ll do what they say immediately, without a conscious decision to agree or not agree. The few times it’s happened, Nick regressed afterward, experiencing nightmares, flashbacks, and showering constantly. His disgust at himself would border on self-hatred. He’d also go out of his way to not cooperate with anybody for a day or so later, as touchy and as contrary as he’d been when they’d first come to Destiny. Mostly, that had been with David, till Everett had clued him in. David and Nick seemed to be getting along fine now.

Eventually, he says, softly, “It’s myself I’m mostly upset with, for not ignoring him. I know he means me no harm.”

Silence. “But?” Everett prompts, while working on another knot of tensed up muscle. He presses into it with a thumb and it gives, finally.
.
Sighing, Nick says, “Brody and I went to work on a dodgy conduit.”

“Sounds dangerous. I hope you took precautions.” He didn’t like it that he hadn’t been informed that the Science Team was doing something risky.

“No, no. Not energy, just water conduits. No danger of an explosion like the one that harmed Riley that time,” Nick is quick to point out. All of the Science Team, not just Nick, are much too willing to explore new systems and take actions without adequate precautions. David is right there with them, too. If anything, he’s worse. And if the Science Team thinks what David wants them to do is too risky, like dialing Earth during refueling, it’s almost certainly a bad idea.

“So, what happened?” Everett asks, “with Volker?”

Nick worries at his lip, but takes a deep breath and says, “We couldn’t reach the damaged area the normal way, since it went through areas of the ship that are too damaged. But thanks to the Ancients and their redundant ways, there’s always a hatch and a place below where I can access these problems and fix them. It’s a narrow, wee space. Ginn and I, we fit the best, but the lass is a bit claustrophobic, so I go when we need to do this. I can wiggle down on my own, since there’s a pipe I can catch with my legs, but I need Brody – it’s always been Brody before – to grab me when I climb back up the pipe and help me catch hold of the edge to pull myself up. Only, while I was working down there, Brody had to go help Eli with another problem and Volker took his place.”

“Okay,” Everett says, drawling the word out.

“His face was bright red when he had to touch me. He couldn’t look me in the eyes, and after I was out – and he nearly made me fall because his grasp on my wrist was so loose – he wiped his hand off on his pants. Like he’d had to touch something nasty. He couldn’t wait to get out of that room.” Nick scowls. “Fucking Volker.”

“What did you do?” Everett asks mildly.

Nick shrugs, looks down at his hands. “Took a shower.”

“Because?”

Nick’s head lifts up and he scowls again. “Because, Everett, I felt filthy, like I did on the table. Inside and out. I know he’s dealing with the effects of seeing me be tortured. I know he’s not wanting to do anything to me. But he’s not helping, either.”

“You’re right,” Everett answers, trying to sound soothing. “He’s not. But you can’t control how he feels. Want me to talk to him about it?”

Nick shakes his head. “No, what’s the use? I need to learn to ignore him when he blushes. I know that it’s me who’s in charge of how I react. I just need to keep telling myself he’s a git and pay him no mind when he acts like I’m doing a strip tease in front of him.”

“I’m going to make it clear to the Science Team that he not be partnered with you on repairs, though,” Everett says firmly. “You said you almost fell because he felt too embarrassed to really hold onto you. That’s a safety issue, and I’m not going to just let that go. Unless you want to give those orders to the Science Team?”

“Be my guest, Colonel. Just, spare me and do it when I’m not with them.” There a flush to Nick’s cheeks. Everett can guess how awkward Nick would find it to be there for that lecture.

“Sure thing. How’s your neck and shoulders now?”

“Better. Thank you.” Nick puts a hand over Everett’s, stopping his massage.

He sounds sincere, and Everett is always caught a little off guard when Nick does this, is polite and genuine. He grins a little, thinking about how transparently bad Nick had been at trying to butter up the politicians and high ranking officers at the SGC who’d come to Icarus.

Nick catches the grin and asks, a little warily, “And what’s got you looking like that cat in Alice in Wonderland?”

Everett sits down, still grinning. He wraps his hands around his tea mug. “I was just remembering how you used to try to sound polite to our higher echelon when they’d come round Icarus. You couldn’t stand those people and you couldn’t pull it off, being polite and deferential. I think your attempts ranked as the worst I’d ever seen for buttering up the powers that be.”

“Yes, well. . .” Nick trails off, looking distant. Probably he’s remembering his past behavior, Everett guesses. Finally, he shrugs, “You’re no wrong, Colonel.”

That strikes Everett as hilariously funny and he laughs so hard and long that Nick grabs his mug and sniffs it suspiciously. Of course, that just sets him off again on another laughing fit, Nick staring at him like he’s just grown another head.

“You’ve gone daft, haven’t you?” Nick says, rolling his eyes. “You’d best be off to your bed, Colonel, since you’ve come down with a case of the hysterics.” Then his expression changes. “Everett, we have company.”

Everett turns and sees David striding toward them. “Everett, Rush, we need to talk.” They wait in silence, and he knows that tone of voice, that expression on David’s face.

Trouble has just caught up with them.

* * *

Chapter 26: Changes in Equilibrium

Notes:

To the readers who responded to my plea for assistance with remembering a certain scene, especially Wolfens, thank you again.

Some math information was taken, out of context, from this source. https://phys.org/news/2013-05-mathematical-links-space-time-theories.html

Laurie

“Rush,” David says, and catches his arm as he’s following the Colonel out of the Mess. “I need to talk to you.”

“I should go with him to Eli,” he protests. David told them that the boy’s mother is very sick with pneumonia and hasn’t been taking her meds that keep her from developing AIDS. When the SGC couldn’t reach her to arrange for Eli’s visit, they sent someone to check on her and found her unconscious at her home. She’s in hospital now and Camile thinks she’s so depressed over missing Eli that she’s verging on suicidal. Eli’s being sent straight away to Earth.

“In a moment. This won’t take long.” David raises his voice. “Everett, I need Rush for a few minutes. He’ll meet you at Eli’s quarters.”

Colonel Young turns and gives them a thoughtful look. Rush yanks his arm free of David’s grasp. That was against the rules, and David, from the sideways smirk he’s giving him, bloody well knows it, the bastard.

“Make it quick,” the Colonel orders. “If Eli’s leaving, then Dr. Rush needs to talk to him about ship’s business.”

Rush crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll run and catch up, don’t wait on me. And Colonel, I’m quite sure Eli will ask for Ginn to come along. Might as well send that message to Earth now. They’ll be gone for a few days, I suspect.”

The Colonel nods, giving them another thoughtful glance. Then he’s disappearing down the corridor.

David cups Rush’s neck and his thumb slides suggestively up and down. He ought to step away, because while no one is here, anyone could walk in and wonder what’s going on with the two of them.

He doesn’t though, and David grins at him. “I’d like to kiss you right now, Nick. But I’ll wait for later, if you’re coming to my quarters after you see Eli off.”

“I shouldn’t. I’ve not had hardly any sleep these last few days, thanks to you,” he grumbles. David’s fingers have turned their attention from his neck and have crept up into his hair, and the massage is having its usual effect. He feels a heavy feeling of desire stir low in his belly.

“I’ll take it easy on you, put you right out,” David says. “We’ll make it fast and quick and you’ll sleep better all relaxed. Besides, you owe me now.”

“For what?” he asks, feeling suspicious. David likes to tease, but the favor he owed to Rush has been well fulfilled these past weeks. As far as Rush is concerned, they’re even for his having saved David’s life twice over. He hasn’t asked the man to do anything but be his no strings attached sexual partner for working through his problems with intimacy.

“I’ve used every IOU I had to get the IOA to drop the charges they were going to indict you on, even got Chloe’s mother to agree to it. She’s been one of the main people out to hang you, you know. Camile’s helping, too, mostly because she likes you, but also because she owes me. You don’t have to worry about being thrown in one of the SGC’s secret cells, or about being blacklisted from universities or industry or the SGC if you return to Earth. Nobody will switch with you on a permanent basis, either.” He pulls Rush close to him. “You know, to hell with your rules.”

The kiss is demanding, and David makes it last until the need to breathe pulls them apart. He looks pleased with himself, and in a way, Rush is sorry to bust his bubble. He steps back and crosses his arms over his chest again.

“Yes, well, I suppose I should thank you, but I never asked you to do that for me,” he says. “I don’t give a fuck what the IOA thinks or does, I’m never going back to Earth, and Colonel Young would never force me to use the stones against my will.”

David just laughs. “You’re such an ungrateful bastard, Nick. I knew you’d say that. I knew you wouldn’t ask for help with your IOA problem. But I did help you and now you owe me. After all, I didn’t ask you to save me twice over, but you did and I acknowledged that debt. Your debt is something I’m going to be chuckling about for a long time, every time you insist you don’t owe me.”

He feels flustered and annoyed, and a tiny bit thankful. Fucking David Telford and his highhandedness.

“So are you coming tonight? I’ll give you a massage.” David grins at him, and damn it, the man can be quite charming when he puts his mind to it.

He sighs, feeling a roil of emotions. “Aye, I suppose.”

David reaches out and taps Rush’s nose, causing him to bat David’s hand away with an irritated huff that only makes David grin even wider and do it again. Rush had underestimated David’s playful side. He’s constantly doing things like this when they are together. He supposes he doesn’t really mind; David would be disappointed if he didn’t grumble at him, though.

David laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It’s a very attractive look. “I’m going to shower and gets things ready.” He grabs Rush’s hand and plants a kiss on the palm. “I’ll see you then. Better run now, or Everett’s going to wonder what’s keeping you.”

Rush nods and takes off running for all he’s worth. He feels unsettled. Things aren’t exactly going along as planned with David.

Colonel Young is not stupid, far from it, and Rush doesn’t want him knowing how he went to David to relearn how to be relaxed with sex again. The Colonel had noticed something off between Rush and David tonight; those looks he’d given the two of them meant he’d be watching them closely now.

One of the rules Rush laid out with David was that their behavior stay private. This is not a relationship, or it wasn’t supposed to be. Recently, though, David seems to be forgetting that.

He’ll have to set him straight. No strings, no relationship, and no touching except in private. This is their secret. He’d told David that if he could, he would have just gone to a bar and picked up a stranger. David had been amused that Rush had considered him the next best thing to that on the ship.

He’d agreed, though. Affection wasn’t part of the deal.

* * *

After he and Colonel Young walk Eli and Ginn to the stones room, and two strangers get up from the table and are escorted by the two of them to these people’s temporary quarters, Everett puts a hand on Rush’s shoulder. It’s friendly, not dominating, and yes, he can tell the difference now with this man.

“Everything okay, Nick?” he asks. “David isn’t harassing you, is he?”

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong. He just wanted to tell me that the IOA won’t be gunning for me anymore,” he says, hoping a partial truth will satisfy the Colonel’s curiosity and concern.

It doesn’t seem to have worked, though. If anything, Everett looks suspicious now, to add to his concerned expression. Fuck. He debates just telling him that he’s sleeping with David, but anger rises up in him. This secret has nothing to do with Destiny. It’s just his personal life, and he has the right to privacy. He doesn’t have to share this, and he’s not going to say anything about it to anyone, even his friend.

He and the Colonel are friends now, but friends don’t share all their secrets. It’s not going to last anyway, this thing between him and David. Already he’s much more comfortable with being touched and touching his lover. Just a few more weeks, and then he’ll end it. David went into this thing with him with all the expectations laid out and Rush went out of his way to make sure David didn’t feel coerced or guilted into agreeing in anyway. He told him he could certainly turn his offer down, that he could end it at anytime or stop any sexual behavior that he wasn’t comfortable with doing.

David had said he wanted a day to think it over. He was surprised to be asked, but intrigued. He’d told him yes the next day, finding him in his math corridor working on that last damned problem so they could finally learn Destiny’s mission. That first night was an absolute disaster, but they’d done better since.

“Nick?” Everett asks him and gives him a little shake. “You’re off in space somewhere. Are you okay? Is David making you feel uncomfortable in any way?”

He shakes his head, and a lump rises in his throat. Colonel Young, Everett, his concern has caught him off guard and he’s touched.

“We’re getting along fine,” he says. “There’s no need to worry, Everett. I guess he decided to talk the IOA out of crucifying me because I’d saved him from suffocating. Mind you, I didn’t ask him for that favor.” With this, at least, he could be totally honest. “I was a bit taken aback that he’d done that.”

“Okay,” Everett says, and pulls his hand away. “Get some sleep. You look exhausted, and with Eli gone I need you sharp.” The man’s eyes are dancing when he says that bit about Eli, and Rush knows he’s being teased, just a bit, but it’s also true. If there’s a crisis, Eli’s help with be sorely missed.

“Yes, yes. I know you’ll miss your favorite,” he grumbles, playing along with the teasing.

“Nope. My favorite is standing right here, looking like he’s two steps away from sliding down the wall and taking a nap.” He takes Rush by the shoulders and turns him in the direction of his quarters. “Go, get some sleep. No more working tonight.”

“Is that an order?”

Everett laughs. “Yes, or you’ll be so cranky tomorrow no one’s going to be able to stand you.” He gives him a gentle shove forward. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Rush walks off, but of course, he’s not going to his bed.

He’s going to David’s.

* * *

David has taken quarters in a section of the ship the Lucians had established themselves in, after repairing the damaged areas that had kept Young’s crew from inhabiting them. David’s room is similar to Colonel Young’s, larger than his own by quite a bit, with a small private bathroom. A bigger bed. David is lying on it when Rush opens the unlocked door.

“Hello,” Rush says, and crosses his arms over his chest, waiting to be invited in. He sways a little, because, yes, he is almost asleep on his feet.

David slides off the bed gracefully and stalks towards him. He sometimes reminds Rush of a predator cat, the way he moves towards him when Rush stands in his doorway, a residual reluctance to engage with the man like this keeping his feet planted, his arms wrapped around himself.

This wasn’t something David was unaware of, not by a long shot. They’d talked about it, David insisting that he explain what was going through his head. Rush had told him to ignore what his body language might be saying in the moment.

He wants this. He wants to be touched by David, to learn to react with interest, not fear. He needs to get past the loathing, the anxiety, sex raises in him.

David stands so close now. He looks past Rush into the deserted corridor, but no one else lives in this section, and apparently the thought of taking over quarters where the Lucians suffocated to death has inhibited the crew from claiming them. David always checks though, to make sure they are alone, no kinos floating along, spying for Eli.

Sliding an arm around his waist, David pulls him inside and locks the door. His grin is predatory. He enjoys what they do together and pushing Rush past the boundaries his past experiences have set for him.

Rush gradually moves his arms away from his own body and wraps them around David’s much taller and broader one. The man smells clean, and he’s only wearing his uniform trousers. He’s going to have sex with this man, and it’s going to be all right, he tells himself.

“Hi,” David says and kisses Rush, slowly and gently at first, then more demanding as they stand there, him bent over Rush and Rush doing his best to relax and just live in this moment. David won’t hurt him. David’s touch has been invited, and he won’t do anything Rush doesn’t want. So he lets his mind go blank, just a bit, just a bit, because thinking too much right now will spoil what he wants, which is to touch another human being and feel himself touched in return. It’s never mattered to him if that touch comes from a man or a woman because it’s nice to just be close, to have a warm body touching his own, to feel the softness of skin with his hands. He’s exploring David’s back, and fuck, the man feels strong, while David is doing his own exploration with his lips and his tongue, seducing Rush into opening his mouth, letting him in. His breathing quickens, and is it with excitement, with desire, or is it because they did that to him, too, Simeon who raped his mouth with his tongue and then his dick, and, and the others, the Lucians, who only kissed him before so many dicks had been forced inside of him, his mouth, his ass, and they didn’t want to kiss him after that, when he’d been the ship’s whore, and is he whoring himself out right now?

“Whore,” they call him in his dreams and he knows it’s true because here he is, offering himself to a man, asking him to use him for his pleasure, to wring pleasure out of his own body and if anybody could do that, it’s Telford, David, and he did it to him when he was bound on the table, made him come for everybody to see, so everybody would know what he really was, and he hadn’t known that about himself, till David showed it to him and to
Everett, to the Science Team and Volker, and Volker would be feeling so vindicated right now, if he knew he’d come to David for sex because he’s convinced that Rush is a whore. Why else would he blush like that if he didn’t think Rush was one, and every one else has been misled with this idea of Rush as a victim, but Volker knows that he enjoyed what David did to him and Everett, let’s not forget Everett, who fucked him while David’s hand pulled an orgasm out of him, and did he tighten down on Everett’s dick, did he make Everett come then because he’d just spurted come all over his own belly and David’s hand, and David had wiped it on his chest, on his nipples, and he’s breathing so fast now, and David is sucking all the air out of him, and he’s feeling a bit lightheaded and maybe he shouldn’t have come tonight, he’s tired and it’s harder to keep these thoughts away, to let his hands and his mouth and his dick just react, to engage in this workaround to reclaim his right to have a sex life, but he’s very tired and it’s hard to not think these thoughts, and they are not helping. He needs help.

David’s caught on that this isn’t going very well at the moment, and he gentles the kiss until their lips are just barely touching. He takes a step back and gives him a penetrating stare. “Nick, what are you thinking right now?” His voice shades into that of a commanding officer, and it’s a damn order when he says, “Tell me,” and Rush finds himself blurting out all that rubbish about being a whore, and yes, now that he’s had a moment to regain his sanity, he knows he’s not a whore, he didn’t ask to be tortured, he was drugged into coming there on the table, and having sex is no a bad thing, he deserves to be able to lay down with whoever he chooses. He says all that, too, and he’s wishing he had just said no and gone on to his own bed tonight because he’s too tired to be guarded and he should keep up his guard with David.

He lays his head against David’s chest. “Fuck you, you bastard, for making me spill all that nonsense.”

David’s arms tighten around him and then he lets go, steps back and begins to unbutton Rush’s jacket. “Yeah, Nick. I’m a bastard, sure.” He slides it off of Rush’s shoulders. It drops to the floor, and David nudges it out of the way with his foot. He says, not unkindly, “You’ve got your rules, and I’ve got mine. You have to tell me what you’re thinking, if I ask, remember? You agreed, Nick.” He pulls Rush’s worn out T-shirt up over his head and drops it on top of the jacket on the floor.

He sighs. “Aye, I know.” He stifles a yawn.

David runs his hands over Rush’s shoulders, his chest, rubs circles around his nipples. It feels good, but it would feel better if he was lying down.

“So are you paying attention?” David asks, and there’s laughter in his voice, “Or are you falling asleep?”

“Aye, get on with it. I’m awake.” He lays his head back against David’s chest again.

David makes a skeptical sound and then pinches him on the butt. Hard. It doesn’t hurt, but it does startle him. “An’ what was that for?”

“Stay awake for now, and I promise I’ll make it good for you. But you need to hear this, okay?”

He nods. He knows what David is going to say. He’s said it to him plenty of other times, but it seems that there’s still some part of his mind that won’t accept the message.

David places both of his hands on Rush’s shoulders. He looks him intently in the eyes, and says, “You’re not a whore, Nick. What happened to you wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.” Except for those times when he didn’t believe it.

David cups his neck, strong fingers searching out tense muscles. “You, Nicholas Rush, are a stubborn son-of-a-bitch and you’re going to beat this thing.” He kisses Rush, in a gentle, feeling his way kind of kiss. He says, “I’d like to get things back on track now, okay?”

Rush nods, and this time, when David kisses him again, he willingly parts his lips, and the kiss becomes ardent.

“Put your arms around my neck and hold tight,” David breathes in his ear, and then resumes kissing him senseless. He does that, he lets David take charge, and it isn’t always David who says to do this or that in bed, but he’s very tired and for tonight David can take the lead.

David positions his strong hands against the back of Rush’s thighs, and his fingers are gripping him, and he says, “Jump and wrap your legs around my waist.” He does that while David lifts him and he holds tight to David’s neck and he feels opened with his legs so wide apart and David’s solid body between them and he feels his dick beginning to swell against David’s belly. This is odd. David’s never carried him before when he was conscious, although he did a few times when Rush passed out, recovering still from sitting in the chair to see Mandy. Not that he remembers it, but Eli told him about it.

David’s arms are under his butt, and he says, confidently, “I’ve got you. Kiss me, Nick. Don’t hold back.”

He could gouge him in the eyes, bite him, make David drop him, and he’d be free to run away, or to grab something to use as a weapon, throw something at his captor’s head, and, aye, he is good at hitting what he aims for and that’s the only way he’s in the least bit hobbit-like, and he doesn’t know why he just thought of hobbits again, but he knows it’s Eli’s fault. Still, just realizing that it’s his choice to stay in David’s arms, to be held like this, dependent on David’s strength to support him, allows him to comply and as if to prove that to David, he’s rather fierce in his plundering of his mouth.

David likes that, and in return sucks on Rush’s neck. It makes Rush arch his back, and his erection is full and firm and David frees an arm and locks it hard against Rush’s back, pushing him more into David’s body. The feeling of being held like that, it’s driving him pure dead mad with the need to thrust, but his attempts only end up in squirming against David; the sounds he’s making are not whining, they aren’t, but David likes that, too, standing there as sturdy as an old oak tree, because his breath is coming in pants, and he’s saying things to Rush, some shite about how he likes Rush’s hair, the way he’s built, how flexible he is and how he’s wanted to hold him like this since he first laid eyes on him. He tells him he’s going to make Rush stay this way, on the brink, for a long time before he lets him come.

It’s making Rush’s dick even harder and wet at the tip and he wants more, more friction, but he can’t get any more, not this way, but he’s got a workaround for that.

He slides one hand down David’s chest, stopping to play with his nipples for a bit, and maybe he’ll suck them, too, yes, he’ll do that and it will be a fine diversion. It’s a bit awkward, but he latches onto a nipple and circles it with his tongue, making it stand out, and Gloria had always liked this – and he banishes thoughts of her away because this is now, the present, not the past, but he can think of her later and remember how they had made love -- but right now, he’s with David, and, oh, David loves that, but then, Rush had known he would. Statistically speaking, there had been a non-zero probability that he will just love the fuck out of what Rush is doing to him, based on previous trials.

And while David is enjoying that, Rush slides his hand into his own loose, soft trousers and squeezes and jerks at his dick, and yes, continues his thrusting against David’s belly, which he doesn’t like to call squirming, but truthfully, that’s what he’s doing and he’s almost ready, just a few more quick strokes of his hand--

Fuck! The pressure against his back disappears, and David’s nipple slides out of his mouth. David has his wrist and he’s obviously caught on to what he probably would call Rush’s deviousness, his Machiavellian moves, but really, he’s just using the best approach to achieving his goal, and this is what he always does, which for right the fuck now is to bloody well get off.

“No,” David says, grinning. ‘Not just yet, Nick.” He’s got a grip like iron around his wrist, like handcuffs, like restraints, but Rush has another hand, doesn’t he, and David will have to choose, either dropping him down to grab his other hand or letting him stroke himself to completion. He’s so close.

David must have anticipated his move, though, because he flings Rush’s hand away and that’s unbalanced him and he grabs hold of David’s neck again. “Compromise, Nick. Kiss me again like you did, and I’ll use my hand on your dick. You’re not going to get yourself off, understand? I promise, it’ll be better with me.” David’s voice shades into something a bit dominating, but he will stop if Rush uses his safety word. “Don’t want to make nice? Then I’ll put you up against the wall and hold both your hands and make you wait to finally come.”

For an answer, he latches onto David’s mouth and loses himself in the heat and the feel of rough fingers freeing his erection and jerking him, and fuck, but it feels good and he stiffens as his orgasm takes him hard against David’s bare belly. David holds him through it, murmuring silly words.

He’s no one’s baby, certainly not David Telford’s and he’s not beautiful when he comes, or at anytime, but he doesn’t tell him to shut it because, because, it’s just sex talk and he supposes David can say it. It doesn’t mean anything and anyway, it would be too much trouble to talk just now.

He lays his head against David, feeling limp and wrung out, and still lost in a sex haze. He sighs, and nuzzles David’s neck. He doesn’t want to move just yet.

“Nick? I promised you a massage. And I want to come between your legs afterwards. That okay?” David has been good about telling him what will happen on these nights he spends with him and getting his permission first. Well, after that first night, at least, but really, David had done the best he could. Rush had been an idiot, to do what he’d done before stepping foot into David’s quarters.

David carries him to the bed and with one hand pulls the comforter and sheets down. The Ancients did love their bedding. The sheets are slick and sensual, the comforter soft and plush.

“Nick?”

Ah yes, he needs to say something to David. “Fine. Get on wi’ it, then.”

David snorts, then laughs. “God, you sound like a Scottish street urchin. I’ve been to Glasgow before, you know.” He deposits Rush on the bed so he’s sitting up, then kneels down and unties one of his trainers, slips it off.

Indigently, he slurs out, “Shut it, you. I only lived on the streets a few times.”

“Did you,” David says, and Rush scowls at him. He’s no for liking that tone of voice. It’s why he keeps such things to himself, but David’s fucked the sense out of him tonight, it seems. David drags his other trainer off and Rush thinks about protesting that he can untie his own damn shoes, but decides David this one time can have the job. He’s very, very tired.

“We’ll talk about it later,” David says, and yanks Rush’s donated yoga pants off. He’s not wearing his tattered boxers. They’d been rather destroyed last night and had needed a thorough washing. More gently than his actions, he says to Rush, “Lie down on your stomach.”

He does, and David talks while rummaging for supplies and undressing and arranging himself behind him, sitting on Rush’s legs. It’s for his benefit, he knows, so he’s not startled when David touches him. David has been considerate about his issues, much more than he had expected. He relaxes, and his eyes close.

“You know,” David says, and he’s sounding smug. “Since I’m doing most of the work tonight, you’re going to have to make it up to me. Next time, I’ll take a massage. Maybe you can try riding me, if you’re ready to tackle intercourse.”

He stiffens, and David’s hands cease their movements. “Nick, you know you can say forget it if you’re not interested. You’re in charge here.”

“I’ll give you a fucking fantastic massage,” he says into the mattress. “I’ll. . . think about the rest.” He lets out a deep breath and says, “Let’s keep going. You can do what you said you wanted. Even if I’m asleep.”

David says, his hands warm on Rush’s back, “I have a weakness for good looking smart scientists. It’s no hardship to touch you, you know,” He bends over Rush and kisses the back of his neck. “Go to sleep, I’ve got you.”

He manages to stay awake a short time, while David’s strong hands run up and down his body, slick with oil. When he wakes up again there’s a pillow under Rush’s hips. David is halfway draped over Rush’s back and his dick is moving between Rush’s oil slicked thighs. Groggily, Rush helps by tightening his thigh muscles and David likes that, Rush can tell by the pleased grunt he gives.

When David starts stroking Rush’s own dick to the same rhythm he’s rocking into Rush, his eyes open wide, but it’s dim in the room and he soon closes them again. David knows what he’s bloody well doing. He feels arousal build in him, but he’s not close to coming again when David has his own orgasm.

David’s hand tightens around Rush’s dick as he comes on him. He dozes again, but he feels David wiping him down with a soft cloth. Then he’s being rolled over onto his back, the pillow tossed away. David takes his legs and bends them so that his knees are high in the air.

He’s instantly awake, because being on his back, his legs like this, it’s close to how the Lucians had bound him. But David’s holding him loosely, and he murmurs, “I want to suck you off, baby.”

He can say no. He can say not like this. He can kick his way free. But David won’t hurt him and his dick is pleasantly aroused and he wants to come again and sleep for a million years. So he murmurs something assenting, even if it’s not very intelligible, and David’s hot mouth closes around him and he feels David’s hair against his thighs and his own hands twist and turn on the mattress as his arousal morphs into an orgasm.

David kisses his belly when he stops convulsing and gets out of bed and disappears into the bathroom.

Now is the time for him to get up, pull his clothes back on and leave. He’s never stayed the night before. Sleeping with David, actually sleeping with him, seems more intimate to him than what they’ve just done. He should go.

He doesn’t get up. He tells himself that he’s just too tired, and he is that, aye, but he knows he’s lying to himself.

David returns and climbs into bed, pulls the sheet and comforter over them, pulls Rush to him. “I’m glad you stayed, Nick.” He kisses him on the nose, which he finds extremely silly and maybe a touch sweet. “Go back to sleep, baby.”

David is warm, almost hot, and he’s very comfortable here, and while he’s composing a rather sarcastic response to being called ‘baby,’ he loses track of his thoughts and drifts off.

* * *

“Bloody hell!” Rush throws his filthy T-shirt at David, who catches it with a wide smirk on his face. “Did you have to use my shirt for cleanup duty last night!” They’d showered together, and he’d finally found where David had tossed it.

“It was handy,” David says, shrugging. “Calm down, it’s in tatters anyway. You can have one of mine and keep it.”

Rush glares at him, but David just laughs. “Wear my shirt, or just go bare under that jacket Everett gave you. I’m fine with either plan.”

He pictures himself in only Everett’s jacket. It’s big on him and if he leans over a console, anyone looking will see he’s got nothing on under it. It shouldn’t matter to him, but it does. The sight would probably send Volker into one of his blushes, damn his luck.

But wearing David’s shirt – this means more to David than just giving him a necessary piece of clothing. He’s put a sexual spin on Rush putting it on. There had been something a wee bit possessive in David’s voice and in his expression.

Best he caution David again that what they’re doing together is not a relationship.

“It doesn’t mean anything if I do take your shirt.” Rush wraps his arms around himself, tries not to shiver; it’s chilly in here this morning. He knows what that signifies. Destiny is reducing heat to save energy. They do need to find a star and find one soon. “It’s not like I’m saying to the world that I’m yours.”

David’s grin disappears. “It’s a god damn shirt, Nick. I’ve got extra, you need one that isn’t full of holes. Stop being an ungrateful bastard, say ‘thanks,’ and put it on. It doesn’t mean we’re going steady.”

“Just so we’re clear on that. What happens in your quarters--”

“Stays in my quarters. Jesus, Nick, you sound like an ad for Las Vegas. I let you sleep in, but it’s almost noon now. Everett will send out a search party soon, so you’d better decide. Stay warmer with my shirt, or don’t take it. Up to you, pal.”

He’s a practical man, and he’s no fond of feeling cold. “Thank you, then.” Calling him ‘pal’ reminds him of another point he needs to clarify with David.

He waits till he’s pulled on the long sleeved black T-shirt David hands to him. It’s huge on him, of course it is, and David’s grinning again when he rolls up the sleeves. “What?” he says, when Rush gives him a dark look. “So I think you’re cute in it. Sue me.”

Rush rolls his eyes. “I’ve told you before, I’m not cute. And stop calling me baby. It’s ridiculous.”

“Hmm.” David pretends to be contemplating this, but after Rush ties his shoes and slips on his jacket, says, “Sorry, Nick. ‘Fraid it’ll just keep slipping out. You coming back tonight?”

He doesn’t answer till David opens the door to check the corridor. They’re alone. David pulls him into a kiss, squeezes his ass and murmurs, “You owe me a massage. A fucking fantastic one, you said.”

“Yes, all right. Tonight.” He pulls away from David, and steps out into the corridor and breaks into a run. If he’s slept the morning away he’s behind on the day’s work. Still. Him and David. He feels a small sense of unease, and looks back before turning into a cross corridor.

David is still watching him.

* * *

His meeting with the Science Team before they fly through the star, that indeed, Volker did locate, is almost concluded when Eli and Ginn walk into the Control Interface room.

It is Eli and Ginn, they’re holding hands, and he has no trouble distinguishing between the rightful owners and the temporary tenants when people exchange using the stones.

He raises his eyebrows at Eli and with a gesture indicates he should share the news that he’s obviously impatient to impart to them. They’ve been gone for five days and he’s missed them, not that they need to hear him say that.

“Hi, gang,” Eli announces. “So, time to recharge our batteries, I hear.”

“Eli!” Lisa says, her hands on her hips. “What about your mom?”

Eli beams, his air of casual nonchalance gone like a popped soap bubble. “Mom is doing much better. She’s back on her meds, the pneumonia is on the way out, and she’s gone from not believing me at all when I told her I was her son, to being about eighty percent sure that the Stargate program is real and it was me there with her.”

Ginn makes a so-so gesture with her hand. Apologetically, she says, “Maybe more like sixty-five percent.” She squeezes Eli’s hand. “I’m sure she’ll be at one hundred percent when she comes to Destiny for our wedding.”

Camile, Rush thinks. She’s pulled strings, or more likely threatened to let a few cats out of their neatly tied up and hidden away bags. Good for her.

“And when can we expect your mother to join us?” Rush asks.

“Next Saturday. So, God, lots to do. I mean, we’ve got to get an awesome playlist together,” Eli says, ticking off points on his fingers, letting go of Ginn’s hand. “Clothes to make, snacks to come up with, or maybe even a meal if there’s something more interesting than paste. Decorations, and our ceremony.”

Ginn says, a little shyly, “In my village, there are certain words a couple says to each other, and their wrists are bound together.”

“Handfasting,” Volker says, snapping his fingers. “On Earth, with some cultures, that’s a tradition, too.” He looks at Rush. “Isn’t handfasting a custom in Scotland?”

He’s so surprised that Volker is actually making eye contact and talking to him about something that isn’t about Destiny that for a moment he’s tongue-tied. Then he nods. “Aye, in days past mostly.”

Lisa’s looking a bit starry-eyed at the prospect of a wedding on board. Eagerly, she turns to Ginn. “On Earth, handfasting symbolizes two people binding their lives together. What did it mean on your world?”

Ginn sighs. “Nothing so nice, I’m afraid. It represented our bondage to the Goa’uld, that the new couple should not get ideas above their station and to remind us that we belonged to the gods. Still, it’s always been part of weddings.” She smiles rather defiantly. “Those gods are thrown down, and I’m free of the war lords who took their place. I would like to include it, but for the Earth meaning instead.”

“You bet,” Eli says firmly, and takes her hand again, and kisses her knuckles. “Brody, can we count on you to provide the booze?”

Brody nods. “I got you covered. Been making something special and holding it back.”

“Okay then. So, we’re flying through a star?” Eli asks.

And with that, Rush takes back over assigning workstations for monitoring the process. They will drop out of FTL in two hours and in three will be entering the star. It should be rather routine.

* * *

“Nick! What the hell is going on!” Everett is roaring, in full on Colonel mode, and no, this refueling stop has been anything but routine. They’ve both been called to the Bridge, when things started going awry and the energy that should have been going to restock their supply was being funneled away instead.

“I don’t know, but whatever is happening, it’s happening behind the firewall.” His hands are flying over the console, interrogating the ship. They’ll be through the star soon, and the way the power is being diverted they’ll end up with less energy stored than when they started.

“Can you stop the power drain, or tear down the firewall?” Everett is calming himself down, thank fuck. At least he’s not standing behind Rush, breathing down his neck, watching him work with suspicious eyes.

“Working on it,” he says. “Eli?”

Eli just shakes his head, his eyes not leaving his own monitor screen. “Whatever’s going to occur, it’s got to be soon. What the hell could be going on that needs the power of a star to make it happen?”

Rush brings a fist to his mouth. His mind is racing, and bits and pieces of conversations he’s had with Mandy and with Dr. Franklin are linking with each other like a whirlwind has grabbed puzzle pieces, shoving them together till the pattern becomes clear.

“Nick!!” Everett moves from the command chair and takes him by the shoulders. “Do you know what this is?”

He’s not shouting at him. No, he’s actually spoken quite normally. It’s really only in his own head that he feels like he’s shouting over the sound of a storm.

“It’s, I think it’s,” he begins, then he sees the AI standing next to Everett. He turns to Gloria. “Are they doing it, then?”

Everett grips him tighter. “Nick! Get it together, genius. What do you think is going on?”

Still looking at Gloria, he says, reverently, “Ascension. Mandy and Dr. Franklin are attempting ascension.”

Smiling at him, like he’s done well in an examination, Gloria says, “Yes, darling. They are. You’re hindering them, though, with your attempts to stop the power transfer. You may even succeed in reverting the energy flow. So, what will you do? Help them, or doom them?”

The AI has just given him another one of its bloody tests on ethics. For the greater good, he should stop them. Two people’s needs against those of the rest of the crew. But for Mandy to be free, truly free again! She could retake human form. And Franklin, too, of course. They must have worked this out between them, the power required to ascend.

Mandy wouldn’t harm the crew, and neither would Franklin. The man had essentially died to save them when he’d sat in the chair.

He will trust them that they won’t doom the crew to a fiery death, that the power drain won’t take down their shields while they are still traveling through the star.

“All right then,” he says to Gloria, who smiles at him serenely. “Let them fly and be free. We’ll wait, and sit on our hands.”

Everett turns him so that he’s forced to look up directly at him. “If you were talking to who I think you were talking to, how about explaining what decision you just made on my behalf and the crew’s?”

“Colonel,” he says, and makes sure he’s loud enough so the entire Bridge can hear, “Dr. Perry and Dr. Franklin are in the process of ascending. It’s something that’s interested both of them quite a bit, and apparently they’ve worked out that path. I trust them both to not kill us during it. But if we keep trying to wrest control back, we’ll likely doom them, perhaps to being like Anubis was, half ascended and stuck for eternity like that. I’ll not do that to them.”

“You think we’ll be okay, then?” Everett is staring at him intently, but he lets go of him.

“Yes. Mind you, we’re going to have to turn right around and go back into the star again, but we should come out with enough power to keep us safe.”

“Okay, then. Everybody,” Everett announces loudly, “stop your efforts and let them take what they need.”

Rush enters commands on the console, ending their attempts to cut off the power flow. The AI is standing next to Eli now, and he looks over to the image of his wife. “And will you be our go between, keep us informed of their progress?”

“What?” Eli says. “Like I know what you’re asking.”

Rush sighs. “And as a personal favor, will you please the fuck manifest to the rest of the Bridge crew?”

Suddenly Eli steps back. “Whoa! Hey, hey, is it, are you the AI?” He beams at Gloria. “Man, you are, aren’t you? I have, like, so many questions.”

All eyes in the room turn to her, and he wonders if they all see something different than what he sees. Everett is watching, too. Quietly, Rush says to him, “And what does the AI look like to you?”

Just as quietly back, Everett describes the AI as a beautiful blonde woman in a sweater and slacks outfit. Her hair is up in a twist and she’s speaking in a British accent as she answers Eli’s questions.

“The AI has the appearance of my wife, Gloria,” he says, and there must be something in his voice that alerts Everett because despite being on the Bridge he wraps an arm around him.

“She was lovely, Nick.”

He looks around the Bridge to distract himself from feeling overwhelmed by loss and his attention is caught by the sight of Volker ceremoniously handing a ten dollar bill to Brody. “An’ what do you think that’s about?” he asks Everett.

Everett’s poorly disguised laugh as a cough peters out and he says, with a broad grin, “That, my friend, is the result of a bet on your sanity. Brody said the AI was real; Volker said you just hallucinated it.”

He scowls at Volker. “Bloody hell. He’s been in the Stargate program for years and he still doesn’t believe impossible things happen on a weekly basis?”

Everett doesn’t answer him, but hugs him a little tighter. They’re still standing like that, watching the AI when David enters the room.

David looks at the two them standing so close and something fleets across his face, longing or maybe jealousy. It strikes him then how much things have changed between him and Everett, since the day he’d been so surprised and unsettled that the Colonel, in his exuberance over the shuttle’s safe return after the first time they’d flown through a star, had clapped him on the back and ruffled his hair. Back then, he’d have jumped like a singed cat if Everett had laid a friendly arm over his shoulder. Today, he’d just calmly accepted the gesture as one of good will, and he didn’t even mind that they’re with the Science Team right now.

Everett lets him go then and crosses to David. Rush can hear him explaining what’s going on and David takes out his radio and contacts Scott and James and Lt. Johansen, who all had teams in readiness, although for what Rush doesn’t have a clue. It’s not like someone could board them while they were inside a star.

The AI looks to him and then vanishes, leaving Eli with a crestfallen expression.

Now, they wait.

* * *

It feels like the entire crew is holding their breath, unsure of what what will happen. Eli, quite unnecessarily, has taken to announcing the drop in their power levels in increments of two.

“Destiny’s power levels have now dropped. . . to twelve percent,” Eli intones dramatically. “Thirty minutes till we clear the star.” He’s broadcasting it to everyone on the ship.

David shoots Rush an exasperated look from where he’s sitting in the Command chair. Everett has gone to his daughter for a time, and Lt. Scott is with Chloe. Greer is standing by Lisa, and when Eli’s not being the voice of doom, then he’s close beside Ginn. He supposes everyone is trying to be with those they love, or with their close friends. Brody and Volker, too, keep finding reasons to leave their work stations and walk over to the other one for a few minutes of conversation, pretending to be looking over the data on their consoles.

David nods his head toward Eli, giving Rush a look that clearly means, ‘you do something, or I will.’ Rush shrugs, then says, “Yes, thank you, Eli. Dr. Park can continue the public service announcements. You and Ginn see what else you can shut down to conserve energy.” Lisa is an incurable optimist, and she’ll not make the crew feel like they need to be hiding under their beds. They’re already reduced down to essential systems, but there is essential, and then there is essential. Time to strip power from the weapons.

Eli whispers something to Ginn and they both walk over to him. “You mean the weapons arrays, don’t you?” Eli says.

When Rush nods, Eli says, “Easier to do that from the Apple Core.”

“I’ll monitor from here.” Eli is right, the Control Interface room would give them easier access.

“Okay, Doc.” He looks indecisive for a moment, then pulls Rush into a hug. It’s brief, but he returns it. Then it’s Ginn’s turn.

“Off with the two of you,” he says, a little gruffly.

There are more hugs for the rest of the Science Team, and then Ginn and Eli are running out into the hallway.

Ten minutes later, Lisa toggles the shipwide broadcast control. “Hey, everybody. We’re still fine on our power levels, – currently at ten – but you know, we’ve been lower than that before and we’ll be replenishing our energy soon. Nothing to worry about. We should clear the star in fifteen minutes. And in case you’re wondering why not just turn around now and go back the way we came, Destiny doesn’t think that’s a good idea.”

Indeed the AI had been very clear that the ship had to stay out of the star for two hours before diving back inside. The AI had been less forthcoming on what was happening with Mandy and Franklin.

Daniel had told him about his experience with ascension. Well, what he remembered of it. He had received help from the Ancients to transform and didn’t remember anything about his actions as an ascended being. He’d been told by General O’Neill that he’d visited him when O’Neill had been a prisoner of the Goa’uld and apparently he’d broken the Ancients’ rules, resulting in him being returned to human status.

There were no Ancients now to help Mandy and Franklin. And they were transforming from, essentially, code, not human bodies. He desperately hopes they are successful. Would they then retake human form and stay here on the ship? Does he have a second chance with Mandy? He really shouldn’t be thinking like this, not now, and he can practically hear Everett saying to him, ‘Focus, genius.’

So he does, and their power drops to eight, then six and, thank fuck, comes back up again to ten, then twelve. The weapons systems is almost totally disabled now.

Then they are through the star. Mere moments later, lights flicker on the Bridge and every hair on his arms and head feels like they’re standing straight up.

“Don’t touch anything!” he yells to the Bridge crew. “Lisa, is the broadcasting still open? If so, tell them not to fucking move or touch a damn thing!”

She had left it open and relays his message, minus the profanity.

His heart is pounding, there’s a rushing sound in his ears. This is it, he’s sure of it. Ascension, and they’re just feeling the byproducts of the process.

Gradually, the static electricity they can all feel dissipates; Destiny’s ionizing process in the ventilation system is balancing the positive and negative energy charges in their vicinity. Lisa explains what’s happening to the less scientifically minded crew and lets them know how to tell when it’s safe to move again.

When it’s normal, he rapidly scans the monitor, checking systems. The firewall has been deconstructed. “Mandy?” he whispers. Suddenly he’s very afraid that they weren’t successful, that all traces of her are gone.

He hears gasps behind him and turns, throws his hand up to shield his eyes.

She’s there, his Mandy, and Franklin, too. But they aren’t human. They are glowing, incandescent energy forms, taking on the illusion of human features. They look. . . brand new, somehow, in their ascended forms.

They’re holding hands.

“Nick,” she says, and her smile is so wonderful to see. “We did it, Jeremy and I. Thank you for helping. And Colonel Young, too.”

He swallows. It’s not lost on him how they’re projecting. “Mandy, I’m so, so sorry.”

She lets go of Franklin’s hand and moves so very close to him. In a quiet voice, her beautiful face shining, she says, “I’ll never forget you, Nick. I don’t know if what I felt for you was a crush or first love, but it was sweet and wonderful. I’ll cherish our times together. Please, be happy for me now.”

“You and Franklin, then.” He hears the defeat in his voice.

“Time for us flowed differently, Nick. We’ve already spent eons together and he’s made me very happy. I love him.”

He hears what she’s too kind to say out loud. That there is no chance for them now. She’s moved on, and she’ll remember him once in a while and smile at her first experiences with intimacy, or perhaps grimace at how badly he’d made love with her.

“Don’t, Nicholas,” she says, and her eyes look like they’re seeing right into him. Perhaps she is, an ascended being with who knows what powers. “Don’t belittle what we shared. It was right for us then. This is right for me now. We wouldn’t have been right for each other for very much longer, even if I hadn’t been sequestered behind the firewall.”

“An’ what will you do now, you and Franklin?” He wishes he could hold her in his arms one more time, but she’ll not feel his touch, not as she is now.

Gently, she says, “We’re returning to Earth. We’ll take human form again, raise a family together.”

She had always wanted children, he knew. Now she would have that dream fulfilled.

“Live well then, Amanda Perry. Little Miss Brilliant. I’ll be happy for you.” His chest feels so tight, there’s a lump rising in his throat that he orders to disappear. It doesn’t.

She bends even closer to him. “I’m leaving you with a small present, Nicholas. Just a hint in the direction you need to go to solve that last problem Destiny gave you. I told it to Chloe. She’s working on it right now. You’ll know what Destiny’s mission is when it’s solved.”

He wonders if she’s been aware of what they’ve been doing while she’s been gone. He blushes suddenly. Does she know what he and David have been up to?

She looks down at the floor. “Despite the firewall, yes, I know what’s been happening on the ship. And Nick? Be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you hurt.” Her eyes flick to where David is watching them avidly. Franklin is talking with Brody and Volker and Lisa.

Mandy holds her hand up in the same gesture she’d used before, when she returned back to her own body via the stones.

“Goodbye,” she says, and Franklin is there now with her, and takes her hand, giving Rush a nod.

They disappear. Moments later, the monitors show the stargate is dialing. Rush turns on the kino feed from the gate room and watches, tears forming, hot and unwanted, as the gate comes alive with a whoosh. Franklin and Mandy pass through the blue opening without a backward glance.

* * *

Chloe is alone when Rush knocks on her door, and the guard opens it. She doesn’t turn around to see who is here to see her, she’s staring intently at the chalked symbols on the wall in front of her. It’s the last problem Destiny has posed, the one that’s eluded all of them. The one that is the last key to learning Destiny’s mission.
.
“Chloe,” he says softly. He doesn’t want to startle her. He can’t see any new changes her Nakai hijacked DNA is expressing. She’s just Chloe, long dark hair, slim and straight, a lovely young woman with patterns of blue raised on her skin.

“What’s happening now?” she asks.

“We’re through the star and waiting a bit before we reenter it to recharge. Ascension was costly in terms of our power supply. I’ve left it in Eli’s hands for now.” Everett had returned to the Bridge, taking over for David, who had given Rush a questioning look before walking off the bridge. He knew David was asking if he would come to him tonight. He had shaken his head no.

“Are they gone?” she asks. She doesn’t stop what she’s doing. She doesn’t say who she means. He knows, though.

“Yes. Through the stargate. Eventually to Earth.” He walks over and stands at her shoulder.

Her hand slides into his, warm, human. She says, “She knew her leaving would hurt you. She was sorry for that, she said. I’m not sure she gave you a clue to solving this thing,” she nods toward the wall, “as an apology or as a distraction.”

He squeezes her hand and she lets go, turns now to look at him directly and hands over the chalk she’d been holding in her free hand.

Her eyes go blank for a long moment, and he wonders what is happening at those times. Lt. Johansen has done all the tests that she can, and they know that Chloe’s brain goes into primarily Theta waves when she looks like this. Personally, he thinks she’s trying to contact the Nakai on an unconscious basis. He sees no point in keeping her locked up, though. Surely the Science Team can devise something, an alarm, or a device that locks her out of sensitive areas. If they don’t find a way to allow her to remain safely on Destiny, he’s afraid that Colonel Young will be forced to put her off the ship one day, or if she does draw the Nakai to them. A wave of grief washes through him at the thought. He doesn’t want to lose her.

She blinks, says “I was doing it again, wasn’t I?”

Forcing himself, he says lightly, “Aye, away wi’ the fairies, you were. Now, show me what Mandy told you.”

* * *

It’s more with a sense of relief than excitement when he steps back and surveys the equation scrawled on the wall in Chloe’s quarters. Chloe has not helped him, beyond showing him the hint Mandy had left for him. He’s sure he’s correct, though.

“Chloe, can you do the proof?” They should be entering the star shortly, if he hasn’t lost all sense of time. Eli can handle it. He’s more interested in how Chloe will construct the proof. This Holography problem involved flat space-time and negatively curved space-time and a negative number of dimensions. He’d had a moment of epiphany from the clue he’d been left– Mandy really was brilliant-- and he’d chased that intuitive thought and everything finally, finally had fallen into place.

She takes the chalk from him and without a word begins on another section of the wall.

Suddenly the door opens and the guard says, “Doc! you’re wanted on the bridge! Colonel Young says to check your radio.”

He’s quite sure Everett had said for him to check his damn radio, and he looks up from doing just that, feeling chagrined. Of course he’s let the battery run down.

Chloe whirls around and dashes to the bed. She pulls aside a pillow and hands him a radio. “Matt gave it to me, in case I needed to talk to him. Um, he may not have actually checked with Colonel Young about that.”

He turns it on, flips it to the correct channel. “Rush here.”

Everett’s voice comes through loud and clear. “We’re under attack, and our power’s down to eleven percent. Get up here, genius. Run.”

He’s already doing exactly that.

* * *

Chapter 27: Day to Day

“Eli, power levels! How long can we hold out?” Everett orders, and flings himself into the Command Chair. They haven’t fired on the ships attacking them, but it’s only a matter of time before the shields fail. He needs an analysis right now, on whether they should shunt power back to the weapons and blast their attackers to atoms or hold it for the shields. He needs Nick, but he’s still on his way to the Bridge.

“Nine percent. We can make it to the star, Colonel,” Eli says, with confidence.

“Anybody say otherwise?” Everett directs the question to the rest of the Science Team, giving them all a no-nonsense look. They shake their heads or tell him they agree with Eli. Math Boy. Right now, all their lives are riding on him being correct.

“Three minutes till we enter the corona,” Brody states. He and Volker are huddled together at a console.

Nick runs onto the Bridge and straight to Eli, practically shoving him aside to look at the data. Then he’s staring at Everett, panting. “We should make it to the star before the shields collapse. Firing our weapons will drain us too much. We should increase our speed, though.”

“Yeah, we know and I’m on it,” Brody says. “Okay, sending velocity changes to you now, Colonel. Punch it.”

He verifies the increased speed after a jab to the command panel.

Lisa Park says, “Two more ships have dropped out.” She focuses on the monitors for a long moment. Her voice tighter, she says, “Power analysis of their crafts indicates all four are gearing up to fire on us again in forty seconds.”

Everett looks first to Nick, then to Eli. “We gonna make it, Math Team?”

“Yes, thirty seconds to the star,” they both say at the same time. “Snap,” Eli quips, but his eyes show no amusement. Nick just looks baffled.

“They aren’t the Nakai,” Nick says. “I thought when--” He catches himself. “They aren’t the Nakai, who the bloody hell are they?”

It’s Volker who answers. “Their ships are the same type we found in that space junkyard. You might not remember that. It was during the time you were in the chair.”

“Oh! Oh no! That’s! It just dropped out!” Lisa says and they all look to what she’s projected onto a screen. Four small ships and something that dwarfs them. It’s easily four hundred times the size of the others, scout ships, almost certainly.

Brody gives Volker a nudge. “The Mother Ship.”

“Yeah, definitely the Mother Ship.” Volker has a look of stricken awe on his face.

“We’re in,” Eli announces as they enter the star and the entire Bridge crew relaxes.

Nick shoots him a look, so he explains what Eli had discovered with the long range sensors and why they had decided to not go and stir up a potential hornet’s nest by scavenging for useable scrap. That place hadn’t been a junkyard, it had been a grave yard. The scout ships, though, had been only playing dead. Eli shows Nick the computer projection of the battle on the large screen and they all watch the much larger ships be destroyed, with no sign of a ship the size of the one that has just appeared.

“This Command Ship,” Nick says with a pointed look at Brody and Volker, “is going to be a problem.” He crooks an arm over his opposite shoulder, rubbing at his neck muscles. Everett knows it’s a tell of Nick’s when he’s deep in thought. Or exhausted. He says, “The small ships were left to watch the wreckage, perhaps to call in a Command Ship.”

David trots onto the Bridge, and with a nod to him, heads straight for Nick and Eli. They bring him up to speed and Everett decides to let him take the lead on a plan for when they leave the star. David is an excellent strategist, after all.

Everett wants a private word with Nick. Now seems to be as good a time as any.

He clears his throat. “Are we still in any danger, while we’re in the star?”

“No, Colonel,” Ginn says. “The solar collectors have deployed. We’re now at ten percent. We have five hours before we emerge and we’ll have to clear the star’s gravity well before we go to FTL.”

Nick turns toward him. “We can slow down quite a bit while we refuel. Give us seventeen hours to hide in here. Eli?”

“Yeah, good thinking,” Eli says. “I’m on it. And that gives me an idea. . .” Eli trails off, but he sends the corrections to Everett and he drops their speed.

“So maybe they’ll be gone when we come out?” Lisa is looking hopefully around the room. Nobody else is looking optimistic.

Nick glances at her with what Everett is definitely going to define as a look of fondness. He says, “Well, we can hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”

“Speaking of the worst,” Everett pitches his voice so everybody will hear him, “Colonel Telford, you have the Bridge and you’ll take point on our strategy for exiting the star. Dr. Rush, with me.”

He’s just risen from the Command Chair and sees David walking with Nick, who’s looking uncertain. He’s probably checking his conscience, Everett thinks. It’s an old habit from their days of being constantly in conflict.

David suddenly steps in front of Nick, causing them to collide. Nick has very fast reflexes, though and avoids a hard crash. They don’t end up on the floor in a tangle of limbs. Instead, David catches him by his biceps so he doesn’t lose his balance. He says something softly to Nick, who stands there with a deer in the headlights look, till he nods, and looks down at the floor.

Something is up with them. He knows this; he doesn’t know if he needs to intervene. He’s almost a hundred percent sure they aren’t plotting another mutiny. Well, ninety-five percent.

David says, “When you’re done with Dr. Rush, I need him back, Colonel Young.”

With that, Nick frees himself and slides past David. He’s wearing a wooden expression that Everett supposes he thinks masks his feelings, but Everett knows him pretty well by now. Even before they became friends, he had gotten adept at reading Nicholas Rush’s expressions from all those hours watching him on the kino recordings Eli had done for him.

Nick is upset, almost on the verge of tears. Well, it has been a hard day and he knows it has nothing to do with this surprise attack.

They walk down Destiny’s corridors and Everett keeps his silence. Nick needs a few moments to get himself back together, and he’s fine with giving it to him. Once, he wouldn’t have, he’d have been at him like a dog worrying a bone. Nick would have gone on the attack then, and instead of a useful conversation they’d have had a raging argument.

They step into the elevator at the end of the corridor and Everett punches in their destination.

Nick sighs when they exit it. “What is it, Everett?”

“You tell me, genius.”

Nick gives him a sardonic look. “Always so suspicious. Well, let’s see. What could I have done that makes you ask that. . . “ They walk together and Nick looks thoughtful. Finally he asks,“Was it because I was surprised that our attackers weren’t the Nakai?”

“Okay, let’s start with that one.”

“I was with Chloe and several hours ago she had one of her blank spells. I was afraid when you radioed that she’d contacted those bastards. I don’t want to lose her, not to them, and not to you putting her off the ship.” He looks at Everett and his eyes are pleading. “Please don’t leave her on a planet, Everett.”

“Not planning on it.”

“If you do, you’ll lose Scott, too. He won’t leave her to be alone like that.”

“I know. For now, we’ll leave things as they are.”

Everett stops at their destination, unlocks it with the code only the senior staff are allowed. Nick follows him in, looks around, puzzled.

“Why are we at the supply room?”

Everett points to a tall shelf. “I need something, thought we could talk and take care of my errand at the same time.”

He rolls a ladder over, climbs up it and gets what he came for, scrambles down with it tucked firmly under his arm. “Let’s go.”

Nick follows him out, closes the door and locks it. “Everett, what did Eli mean by ‘snap?’ Obviously, it’s some sort of slang.”

“You say it when two people say the same thing at the same time.”

“Ah.”

“I can’t see you ever saying it.” Everett grins a little at the thought.

“Not in a million light years.”

They walk back to the hub, re-enter the elevator. Nick rubs at his temple. “Was that it, then? I should go back to the Bridge.”

“Not just yet. Look, I’m not blind. I’m assuming you and David aren’t plotting to take over the ship.”

“Hardly,” Nick mutters. “I’m content to keep you in charge, Colonel. I’ve seen the nonsense you have to put up with and the paperwork alone would drive me to Brody’s still every night.”

They exit the corridor. Nick is trying to hide that he’s disturbed over being questioned about David. “I just need to know a couple of things, Nick. Is David bothering you?”

Nick looks insulted. “This again? Of course he isn’t. And if he was, I’d be the one to put a stop to it. I don’t need any help.”

“Okay, tiger.”

Nick bites his lip, then sighs, “He’s helping me with a project. I didn’t want to ask you, you’ve enough to do with our trips to the Mess. Colonel Telford’s giving me some physical instruction. He’s very good at self defense.”

“He’s excellent at self defense.”

Nick looks away as they walk. “I don’t want the crew to know anything about it. I’ve asked him to keep things private.”

“He hasn’t said anything to me.”

“Well, good.” There’s a disgruntled tone to Nick’s words.

He thinks Nick has told him the truth, but he feels in his gut that something about it is twisted. Nick’s eyes tells him that, along with the way he hadn’t quite looked at him directly. But, he decides to let it go.

They’re walking towards the crew quarters, but he doesn’t think Nick has really noticed. He seems lost in his own thoughts. Here it comes, Everett thinks. The reason he wanted to talk to Nick, after giving him some time to himself.

“I suppose,” Nick says, “that you saw Colonel Telford say something to me, back there on the Bridge.” He bites at his lip again, another tell that informs Everett that Nick is feeling conflicted. “He was telling me he was sorry about Mandy. I’d been trying to not think about her, and his words made it feel real. She’s gone, Everett.” His steps are slowing down and he stops and buries his face in his hands.

Everett moves toward him, but Nick steps back and Everett gives him his space. He doesn’t think he’s crying, but he’s close. Everett finds a wall to lean against and waits. Space, or silence, or a hug, whatever Nick needs right now, Everett’s got his back.

After a time, Nick drops his hands, “Everett?” His voice sounds raw, and pained.

He makes an encouraging sound, thinking that Nick probably had only let a very few people hear him like this. Gloria, Dr. Perry. Him.

“You didn’t see her, or Franklin, did you?” When Everett shakes his head, Nick says, “She asked me to be happy for her. She and Franklin are together now. I suppose I can see the attraction, both ways. She says we wouldn’t have made it as a couple.” Everett pushes off from the wall and Nick gravitates to him as they walk Destiny’s corridors.

Everett says nothing, but he pulls Nick closer by putting an arm around his shoulder.

Nick sighs. “Truthfully, I suppose she was right. We have different life goals, especially now that she can retake human form. Having children had been too difficult for her before; now she can have a family and a husband who will pay more attention to her than to his work. Not that Franklin isn’t a fine scientist, because he is, but he never gets so obsessed with his work that he would ignore his wife, like I used to do with Gloria.”

“I’m sorry, though. I know you loved her,” Everett says softly.

“Aye, I do. I always will. She was – is – my friend.” Nick sighs again, then says, more to himself than to Everett, “It’s my fault we couldn’t make a go of it.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I hope someday you figure that out, Nick.”

Nick shrugs, then stops dead. “Everett. Mandy helped with that last problem before she left. She gave a broad hint to Chloe to pass on to me. I’ve solved it. Chloe is doing the proof, but I’m sure I’m right. Destiny will unlock the files on her mission to us now. With us slowing down, we’ll have time before we have to deal with that bloody great ship. So I’ll query Destiny and put in the four equations. Would you be there with me?”

“What about the Science Team?” He runs a hand soothingly up and down Nick’s arm. He doesn’t want a repeat of the hiding his math hall and the Bridge from the rest of the scientists, but maybe he can grant Nick the privacy he craves for a little while. And he’s asking Everett to be with him. Just him. This is special to Nick and he’s asking for Everett to share it. It makes Everett feel warm and protective towards him.

Nick turns so that he’s looking at him directly and Everett stops gliding his hand to just holding Rush’s bicep. He says, “Yes, of course. I’m not going to cut them out, but for that first time, I’d rather not have them all chattering in my ear about it. Just you. Please?”

Nick was hard to say no to when his eyes looked like this. “I’d like that, Nick. Come get me in the morning, and we’ll do it. We both need some sleep first.”

Nick looks like he wants to disagree, but he undercuts his own potential argument by yawning.

“After David’s done with you, you’ll get some sleep, right? I need you sharp, genius, not dead on your feet.”

‘Yes, yes.”

“That’s not exactly an answer.” Everett nudges Nick, who rolls his eyes.

“So bloody suspicious. Yes, Colonel Young, I will go to bed.”

“And sleep?”

Nick looks amused. “Hmm. You’re much better than you once were at this.”

“I was picturing you in bed working on your laptop.”

Nick raises his eyebrows. “Picturing me in bed, do you make a habit of this, Colonel?”

“Jack ass,” Everett says, grinning. “And answer the question.” He lets go of Nick’s arm and deliberately crosses his arms, and gives him a look under lowered brows, trying to imitate a stodgy teacher.

“Yes, Colonel Young, I will go to bed and try to sleep.” Nick recites this like it’s an annoying lesson he’s had to memorize, and Everett knows that his tongue is firmly in his cheek right now. Then his tone changes from bratty to a little despondent. “That’s the best I can do, I’m afraid. Some nights, well, they’re still bad.”

Everett drops the teasing and says seriously, “It won’t always be that way, Nick. You’re so much better than you were. I’m really proud of you, you know.”

Nick suddenly seems very interested in the deck as they walk along, and his whole manner seems shy. Everett reaches over and ruffles his hair, and the annoyed growl he receives as Nick smooths his hair back down brings them back to their usual selves.

* * *

They walk along quietly together and he knows Nick is miles away, probably thinking about Destiny’s mission, or Amanda Perry. Finally, he stops, and waits for his friend to realize where they are.

“This – why are we at my quarters?” Nick casts him a confused look.

“Invite me in and I’ll show you.” He keeps himself from grinning with difficulty, because, oh, Nick deserves this.

Shrugging, Nick opens the door and makes a sweeping gesture and Everett strolls inside. It’s messy; a pair of socks are hanging haphazardly from the back of the chair, there’s a mug of old tea sitting on the small desk amidst a few small scattered notebooks, the bed is unmade, and there’s an empty bowl that had once held paste sitting on the floor.

The clutter is endearing, somehow, since it’s Nick’s. Of course, if he has seen this in any of the military quarters he’d have given them laps to run after they’d cleaned the place to his satisfaction.

Everett goes to the wide shelf that juts out from the wall and unwraps his package.

“That’s. . . I didn’t think it was allowed. I distinctly remember you giving the crew a lecture during one your meetings about it.” Nick sounds puzzled, and curious, and a little bit suspicious.

“Yep. For you, I’m making an exception.” He connects the charging plate to a power outlet and pulls Nick’s radio off his belt. “Who does this belong to? I know damn well that the one assigned to you was dead as dead can be.”

“Ahh. . . Chloe.”

“So, Dr. Rush.” He places the radio on top of the plate. It hums to life as it recharges Chloe’s radio. “This is your last warning about keeping your battery charged up. You now have one in your quarters instead of having to remember to go to the charging station everybody else uses. I need to be able to contact you at anytime, and I know you understand that. You’re also absentminded about things like this, and I understand that, too. I’m hoping this workaround will solve the problem.”

Nick’s eyebrows raise, “And if it doesn’t?” The charger beeps and he snatches the radio and replaces it on his hip.

“Then I’m going to order all the military to check your radio when they cross paths with you. If it’s low, they’ll give you theirs instead.” He gives Nick a small grin, picturing Nick’s reaction. His Chief Scientist doesn’t disappoint him.

Nick scowls at him. “Bollocks, I don’t need a bunch of fucking minders.”

“Then keep your radio charged up, Dr. Rush,” he says mildly. He’s amused as hell about this, but his point is serious. Nick is on call 24/7, and they need to be able to reach him immediately.

Nick’s expression indicates he really wants to stomp off and his lower lip starts to jut out in a pout, but he takes a moment instead, closes his eyes; Everett guesses he’s having a furious conversation with himself inside of that genius brain of his.

When he opens them, he gives Everett a look that’s familiar from some of their chess matches, when Everett has won the game with a move Nick hadn’t been able to counter. It’s a fascinating combination of surprise, respect, and annoyance. “All right, Colonel Young. Warning noted. And thank you for the charger. You know, I don’t intend to let the bloody radio run down.”

“I know you don’t.”

“But I thought you’d made it plain to the crew that no one was allowed a charger to themselves.”

“Nick, you’re the exception to most of the rules around here.”

That surprises a laugh out of Nick, and Everett grins at him. “And it’s time to restart your Ancient classes. I gave you a pass while you were recovering from the chair, and Eli’s been subbing, but your sick leave is up. Tomorrow, between 1300 and 1400 hours, observation deck.”

Nick groans, and then it’s Everett’s turn to chuckle.

* * *

Nick shows up at his door at the crack of what would be dawn, if they were on a planet. Destiny hasn’t even brightened the lights yet in the corridors.

“Really, Nick?” he grumbles as the man pushes his way past him into Everett’s quarters. He hadn’t even been out of bed yet when the knocking on the door woke him up.

“I’ve brought you tea, what more do you want?” Nick says with exasperation. “I did as you asked and slept instead of inputting the equations. Let’s go, all right?” He hands the tea to him, then goes to his drawers and rummages around before coming up with one of his other holey pair of socks and his other boxers.

He sighs, gulps down the hot tea which doesn’t have caffeine in it, but everybody likes to pretend that it does, then grabs the clothes from Nick, gathers up his uniform from where he had neatly folded and stowed it the night before and heads to his small bathroom. He relieves himself and looks longingly at the shower but knows if he tries, Nick will probably explode with impatience. He’ll shower and shave later, but he does take time to brush his teeth, wash his face and comb his hair. He exits before Nick starts pounding on this door, too.

Nick looks restless and excited and still tired, but Everett can tell that he has slept for a few hours anyway. Nick’s managed to run up a sleep debt again; he’s raised chronic exhaustion to an art form. Wistfully, he imagines being able to order his chief scientist to sleep around the clock, until T.J. says he’s caught back up. One of these days Nick’s going to have a repeat of his spectacular collapse when he’d stayed awake for days after they’d all tumbled through the stargate to Destiny. This time, Everett won’t wake him up unless the ship is about to explode. Ten hours had been a good start on catching up, but T.J. had told him Dr. Rush probably needed at least another ten or twelve hours.

Nick shoots him a curious look as they exit his quarters. “You look like you’re quite pleased about something. What are you thinking about, then?”

Blandly, he says. “You in a bed for an entire day.”

Nick rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching with the grin he’s trying to repress.

“So you are making a habit of picturing me in bed. And am I alone, Colonel Young?”

“Yes. Yes, you are, Nicholas. You’re dead asleep and staying that way until T.J. says you can get up.”

“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

“Believe me, I would enjoy the heck out of you snoozing for twenty-four hours.”

“Well,” Nick says airily, “it’s not happening today. C’mon, let’s run to the Control Interface room. I’m sure I’ll beat you there.” With that he takes off and Everett chases after him, for the moment feeling like he was a ten year old again and racing around with his friends or brothers.

* * *

Nick confidently puts in the solutions to the four math problems that Destiny posed them as a test before they could access locked portions of the Ancient database and waits, fidgeting at the console. Everett stands behind him and lays hands on his shoulder, not massaging the tense muscles he can feel under his fingers, but just being there, feeling like he’s grounding his chief scientist.

Nick must think so, too, because the restless movements of his hands still and his breathing slows down. They wait in silence until Ancient words in flowing, graceful script flower on the monitor.

Everett picks out the word for evil. He’s seen it before, when dealing with the Goa’uld.

Nick traces the words with a finger, and says, “I know this saying. Dr. Jackson taught it to me, when I was learning Ancient. Perhaps you know it as well?”

“I can’t read enough of it. What’s it say, Nick?”

Nick first reads it in Ancient, and then translates, "The universe is so vast, and we are so small, the only thing we can truly ever control, is whether we are good, or evil." An Ancient quote Oma Desela told to Daniel, I believe.”

“She came through for us in the end. She made her decision to battle Anubis for eternity, to save us.”

“Yes.” Nick looks pensive, his earlier excitement buried now. “Whatever Destiny’s mission proves to be, It’s going to be vast and almost unimaginable. I can feel it, Everett.”

Everett agrees silently and thinks that these word are meant for a warning to be careful and cautious with what ever will be revealed about Destiny’s mission.

“Okay, genius. Let’s find out what we’re dealing with here.”

With that, Nick touches the console and new words and graphs and images fill the screen. Nick translates as he reads, a courtesy that Everett appreciates.

His tone of voice slides from intensely interested to one of awe as these words written by Ancient scientists are shared between them. When Nick stops, when all that is left is the hundreds of thousands of images of a massive project begun an eon ago, when Ancients studied the universe, developed stargates and starships, he is utterly still. Everett sits down beside him, takes his hand.

“This ship,” Nick says, and his eyes, they are wide and dark, “was named Destiny for a reason.”

“Yeah. You know, the SGC’s going to want to send people out here to see this.”

“Aye, I know. Andrew Covel, Carter and McKay and Daniel, probably. Daniel, especially, will delve into Atlantis’ records to find corroborating evidence. Destiny must have been transmitting at least some of this back to Pegasus or the Milky Way, before the ship became too damaged.”

“So the Ancients found evidence of an intelligence that existed before the existence of the universe. The patterns in the Cosmic Background Radiation are deliberate, not random,” Everett says carefully.

Nick nods, bites at his lip. “Yes. And much like the Ancients themselves, this intelligence is testing us. They, it, whatever, wants you to prove you have the capability to figure it out. I suspect that’s a requirement before they’ll allow you to meet them. If they still exist.”

“So this super intelligent, uh, intelligence basically left bread crumb trails across galaxies to come find them?”

“Yes, Everett. Destiny’s mission is to find those clues. The Ancients were supposed to figure it out, though. I guess we’ve inherited that job.”

Everett knows he’s not the most intelligent guy in the room. He’s trying to keep up, though. “So, this implies that this intelligence can manipulate time and space? That they went back in time and planted these clues?”

“Possibly, yes, that’s one theory.” Nick is silent for a moment, then adds, “Another is that this intelligence came from another universe and observed the birth of ours and arranged for these patterns to be placed for whatever future intelligent species developed to be found.”

“They’ve been waiting a long time.”

“Aye. Perhaps they’ve been observing us. Perhaps they’re aware of our discovery.”

“Now you just sound paranoid.”

Nick shrugs. “Don’t people who believe in God feel he watches over them? Aware of every sin and every saintly deed? Isn’t St. Peter keeping track of all of that, so when we meet our maker we’re judged by the mistakes and the progress we made in life?”

“Umm. I suppose so. That some people believe that. My parents certainly did.” He hesitates, but decides he needs to bring this up with Nick anyway. “Speaking of God, you know that some folks are going to take what you’ve found as evidence of the existence of Him. If this gets out to the general public, you’re liable to find your name associated with being a prophet or something.”

Nick makes a face. “I’m not saying that this is God.”

“Yeah, I know that. But I bet you others do. Just giving you a heads up, Nicholas. Also. . .”

“What?” Nick sighs. “I can tell I’m no gonna like what you’re going to tell me.”

“Some people are going to think you manufactured all of this.”

Nick’s mouth drops open in startlement. “What?” he repeats, sounding incredulous. “I couldna possibly have. . .” He sighs again, a concerned look crossing his face. “Everett, you don’t think that, do you?”

“Nope. But you know why I brought it up, right? I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a healthy amount of skepticism at the SGC unless Jackson finds evidence to back you up at Atlantis.”

Nick lets go of Everett’s hand and pushes his hair back from where it’s fallen in his eyes. “They’ll damn me because of my past sins. I did plant evidence in the database before, of an Icarus type planet. But that was only several lines I added, and as Eli almost immediately found me out, I clearly wasn’t that good at doing it. I’m not capable of something of this magnitude.”

“Yeah, genius. It wasn’t up to your usual standards.”

Nick rubs his forehead above his left eyebrow. “Not my best decision making, I’ll agree. I was very, very tired when I did that. I was just so sick of the whining from the crew about being stranded; I wanted them all to shut up about it and if they thought we had a chance to use that planet to gate them home, then I thought we’d all be more productive.” He scowls, then, and Everett’s pretty sure it’s aimed at his own past self. “Clearly I wasn’t doing my best work. It would take more resources than we have to even try to set up some sort of stargate tying into the geothermal energy. I wished I hadn’t done it almost as soon as it was found.”

Everett stood up and shrugged. “Even me being here with you now won’t really help your creditability. They’ll point out you could have figured the answers to those equations a while ago and just pretended to have solved it just a day or so ago. That you’ve been working on this deception for a while. I’ll do my best to set anybody who says that straight, but Nick, you need to think about how to handle these accusations.”

Wistfully, Nick says, “Telling them to fuck off isn’t an option, I suppose.”

Everett suppresses a grin. “Not going to help your case, genius. C’mon. We’ve been in here for hours and hours, we need to eat and you’ve got a class to teach before we meet on the bridge with David before we exit the star. This discovery is, as Eli will no doubt say, ‘Awesome’, but regular life goes on, too.”

“Can we keep this to ourselves for a while yet, Colonel?”

Everett pulls Nick to his feet. “Yes, Dr. Rush. I leave it in your hands for now. I’ll go get our lunch and meet you in my quarters, okay? Somebody rushed me out of there this morning and I’d like a shower.”

Nick ends the program and turns off the console. “Thank you.”

“For what? Getting our lunch?”

“Well, yes, that too. But I meant for being here and sharing this with me. Thank you, Everett.”

Nick’s smile seems a little shy. Smiling broadly back, he claps him on the back and tousles his hair.

“You’re quite welcome, Nicholas.”

* * *

David’s plan to save them from the Command ship is never put to the test. To everyone’s surprise, there is only one small scout ship waiting for them when they exit the star after changing to a different trajectory; they destroy it when it comes into range and engage the FTL drives as soon as they are out of the gravity well.

“Umm,” Eli says and Everett raises his eyebrows.

“Let’s have it,” he says, but it’s Nick who answers.

“Colonel, that ship transmitted a signal before it was destroyed.” He reaches over a shoulder, massaging away the tension he carries in his neck. “No doubt it let the Command ship know that we survived the star.”

“They’re going to stick around and wait for us if we encounter them again when trying to refuel,” Eli says.

“Aye, most likely,” Nick agrees. “We may need Colonel Telford’s plan after all.” His eyes rest on David, who gives a sardonic nod.

“All right, till then we’ve got a ship to fly, a manufactory to put to work, and a wedding to prepare.” He glances at Nick, and sees that he and David are apparently having a staring contest. “Colonel Telford, you have the Bridge. Dr. Rush, you’re with me.”

David moves to the command chair as Everett vacates it, and Nick huddles with Eli and Brody, discussing the manufactory plans for a few minutes before joining him by the door. He looks up at Everett, his body language relaxed, no trace of suspicion or concern on his face. Everett touches him briefly on the arm, giving David a nod as they leave.

“Nick,” he says, as they walk down the corridor. “Are you up on the wedding plans and what you’ll need to do?”

Making a so-so gesture, Nick answers absent-mindedly, “I walk the lass onto the observation deck and stay there with her until Lieutenant Johanson asks who stands as family for Ginn, then I go and sit down.”

‘Yep, that’s right. Have you thought about what you’ll be expected to do after the ceremony?”

Now Nick throws him a suspicious look. “What exactly do you mean? They’ll be married; I imagine the crew will cheer or something and then we’re done.”

“There’s going to be a party afterward and it’s going to be in the Mess. Dancing, eating, drinking. In the Mess. You don’t have to go, of course, but do you want to?”

Nick stops walking. “Ah, fuck,” he says. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. I didn’t want you to get blindsided by this. If you don’t want to be there, I’m sure the crew and Ginn and Eli would understand. But if you do want to go, I thought maybe we should start tackling being in the Mess when there are other people present.”

Nick stays silent, but his hands are clenching and unclenching. Finally, he says, “I don’t much like parties. But I don’t want to not go out of fear. Fuck Kiva. I’ll go to Ginn’s wedding and I’ll dance with the girl, and share a toast with Eli, at least.” He looks up at Everett. “I’ll go get the chess set and meet you there now, all right?”

“Sure, Nick.” He watches as Nick turns and starts jogging towards his quarters. It’s not quite time for the Mess to open up for the evening meal, but it will probably be better for Nick to already be settled there as people start showing up. Playing chess will hopefully keep him grounded, keep the flashbacks away.

God knows he’s had plenty of nightmares himself about watching or participating in Nick being tortured and raped where they take their meals. This is going to be hard on Nick, he doesn’t kid himself about that. People are going to be watching him, waiting to see if he will fall apart.

He hopes not. But better to test this out now, than at the wedding reception.

* * *

Nick is absolutely white and fine tremors are racking him when they finally leave the Mess. He hasn’t had a panic attack, but Everett has had to ground him over and over, having him do math problems, Nick’s hand in his own unobtrusively as they sat side by side. In between these acute episodes, they play five games of chess.

Some of the crew stare at him, others pointedly do not look over at them. A few people stop by their table to say hello, or like Eli and Matthew, sit down briefly and make small talk. Nick makes it through till the last person has left, then gives him a ghastly smile before he gets up. They walk out into the corridor and Nick sighs with relief.

Everett doesn’t know what Nick wants from him now. Maybe he wants to go to his quarters, or go back with Everett to his for a while, or go to his math corridor and lose himself in working on whatever currently has him interested or study more about Destiny’s mission.

Nick grabs at his arm. “Everett,” he says. “I’m not going to make a habit of this, but for tonight, I need a drink. Join me?”

“Nick,” he says slowly, trying to figure out the best way to say that this is a bad idea. The same sort of thinking was how he had rationalized himself into a drinking problem.

“Aye, I know, I know. You want to tell me it’s a terrible idea. That you told yourself the same thing until you were drinking yourself blind every night. I know, all right. I grew up seeing my father do the same thing. You’re not going to change my mind, though. I’ll go to Brody’s place alone if I have to, but--”

“Okay,” he interrupts. “Let’s go.” He gives him a friendly slap on the arm. “I’m betting you’re a light weight, though.”

“I can hold my own,” Nick says, trying to put a disdainful expression on his face and failing miserably.

“Yeah, yeah. If I have to carry you to bed, I’m never letting you live it down. Fair warning, Dr. Rush.”

Nick rolls his eyes and strides down the corridor, leaving Everett to catch up.

* * *

Nick makes a face and downs his shot’s worth of Destiny moonshine in one go, then turns his glass upside down on the table. That’s his fourth shot in about a half hour. He hadn’t said much so far, they’ve just sat together in the corner. Brody and his regulars have done their best to make this storage room into a neighborhood bar, scrounging small tables and dimming the lighting. A collection of bizarre items from planets they’ve visited or odd things they’ve found on Destiny that they can’t figure out their purpose decorate three walls. The other wall is a memorial of sorts with snapshots and drawings by Camile of people they’ve lost.

They’re alone now. Everett had seen the few crewmembers who had been there exchanging glances with each other and evidently coming to the conclusion there were more relaxing places to be. He’s pretty sure Brody put up the closed sign when he left the bottle on their table and exited the room.

Nick drums his fingers on the tabletop and Everett raises his eyebrows. Nick stares at him and then narrows his eyes.

“What?” Everett asks. He’s had two shots and he’s keeping it that way.

“This isna right,” Nick announces, and yep, his accent is stronger. He does that when he gets angry, or emotional, too.

“What isn’t right? Here we are, two shipmates sharing some drinks. This is what you wanted to do, remember?”

“Aye, but all evening, it’s been about me and my troubles. It’s been months like that. I’m fair fuckin’ tired of it.” He scrutinizes Everett like he was a console that’s not performing to his expectations. “It’s your turn, Everett. So tell me about you, what wakes you up at night in a cold sweat, what makes you want to scream sometimes until your voice is gone, who have you lost?”

Plaintively, he says, “Why would you want to know any of that, Nick? Can’t we talk about, I don’t know, sports or something?”

Nick shakes his head. “Fuck talkin’ about football, or American football. I want to hear about the pain in your life. The equation is not equal, not with you knowing so much about mine and me only knowing a wee bit about yours.”

This is a bad idea, Everett thinks, to bring up the things he’s gotten past. But Nick is looking at him with those dark eyes of his and he’s drawn in despite his misgivings. “So what have you heard?”

Nick leans closer to him from the other side of the table, as if for more privacy, although with no one else here it’s only symbolic. “I overheard that you were given command at Icarus to give you time to recover from the loss of your team? Some bloody great cock-up that resulted in a lot of deaths. You didn’t want command of the mission to go to wherever the ninth chevron led. Bloody ironic, isn’t it, that you ended up with it anyway.”

“Yeah, it was. You want to know about my nightmares, Nick? That’s one of them. Seeing my team killed. You want to know about the people I’ve loved and lost? Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “SGC teams are very, very close. I lost three of my best friends, my brothers and sister that day.” Rush’s eyes are on his, and he reaches out to grasp Everett’s hand. “And what made it worse, when I finally found out, was that it was all set up by another one of my close friends. David was responsible. He was brainwashed, of course, by Kiva at the time. He’s got to live with that pain, and I feel it for him. It could have been any of us, you see. But sometimes, when I think about my team I get so angry with him that I want to just punch the shit out of him.” Nick tightens his grip on his hand, and he’s damn grateful for that. “So you want to know who they were, why I loved them so much?”

Nick nods, and he ends up talking about them for a long time, and then about how his marriage fell apart, how he regrets involving TJ but how thankful he is that his baby is alive. His worries for her, growing up on this ship. The people who were killed because of his hesitation in venting the gate room when the Lucians attacked.

Nick’s hand in his is warm and his grasp is firm and solid and it feels like it would if he had miscalculated a space jump and was drifting away until Nick’s hand reaches his and anchors him.

Finally he tells him how he felt after he went through the gate from the desert planet where he’d abandoned Nick to die.

“I regretted it the minute the gate closed and we jumped into FTL. I kept telling myself you deserved it, that I’d gotten rid of a liability, but I kept seeing how I left you unconscious, covered with blood and sand, how you had no water or food and how broiling that sun was. How small you looked in those too big fatigues, how unfair our fight had been. You weren’t a soldier; you were a scientist, a mathematician. I could have picked you up and brought you back to the ship, but instead I –“ He puts a fist to his mouth, tears dangerously close to spilling free.

Nick releases Everett’s hand and grabs the bottle of shine and pours them each another shot. “I forgave you a long time ago.” He clinks their glasses together and they down the moonshine in a synchronized gesture. “You can let that one go, Everett.”

“I’ve always wondered why you kept pushing at me after I had beat the crap out of you. I just wanted you to give in, accept my authority. Instead you said we’d never be done, and that defiance just was the last straw.” Nick is turning his glass around in his hands, over and over, but he looks up and smiles wryly, and yes, there’s that touch of defiance again.

“Oh, you know, I can’t help myself from lipping off when that happens. You were hardly the first bigger fella to knock me about and I just couldna ever bow my head to the bloody buggers. I’d rather that last punch than, I guess, accept anyone else’s power over me.” His expression darkens, and he looks away. “Until Kiva broke me.”

He grabs the bottle and pours himself a double shot and downs it. “But I’m taking it back, what I had to give to her and her people. Fuck her anyway.”

“Yeah, you are. You did good tonight, in the Mess. But I think we’d better wrap this up, tiger.” He’s starting to wonder if he actually will have to carry Nick to bed. These last drinks surely will put him out.

“Aye, I’m pure pished and I think I’ve had enough of Brody’s moonshine’s one redeeming quality.” Nick smiles, but his eyes are welling up.

“You okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I will be. Mandy and I used to joke about Brody’s moonshine that way, is all. I’m going to miss her, but I’m happy for her, too. You know, she could have ascended me to go with her.”

He pushes up to his feet unsteadily, and Everett gets up and takes his elbow. “I’m glad she didn’t do that, Nick. I want you here.”

Nick stumbles and Everett catches him, holds him close. Nick looks up at him, the difference in their heights just enough that he needs to in order to look him in the eyes. He says softly, “She knows her own mind, Mandy does. I believe I was her first love, is all, and she, she outgrew me, I think. But I wouldn’t have gone with her and I’m sure she knew that. Franklin suits her, and she suits him. I’m all right, Everett.”

He kisses him, twining his arms around Everett’s neck; he can’t say he’s surprised or shocked, because Nick had been looking at him so intently and the man could have stepped back after he regained his balance and he didn’t. Everett hadn’t set him back either, so he guesses he’s invited this kiss and maybe it’s not the smartest thing he’s ever done – Nick’s feeling the moonshine after all – but he kisses him back.

Nick keeps it fairly chaste, just a hint of passion mixed with the burn of the alcohol he tastes, before breaking it off, moving backwards and away.

Everett doesn’t know what to say. The feel of Nick’s hand caressing Everett’s tired neck muscles as his lips teased his own, it feels like a change is coming. Does he want that? He likes the friendship they have, but there’s always, always been an attraction, sometimes unwilling on his part, to this bundle of contradictions, strong and vulnerable, brilliant and idiotic, a reckless pragmatic dreamer, secretive and deceptive at times. Nick has put his own life on the line to save crewmembers and he has also calculated their deaths in the name of the greater good. He’s made mistakes. He’s complicated and he’s endured so much abuse. This kiss wasn’t like that last one, this time there was no ulterior motive.

This kiss was sweet and honest and a little tentative. Everett raises his eyebrows at him, waiting.

Shrugging, Nick says, “That was me renewing our raincheck.” He sounds good to Everett. He sounds confident and a touch bossy and he has a slightly wicked look of mischief about him.

Everett smiles ruefully. “I’m okay with that, Nick. C’mon, we’re no good for anything now except bed.”

“Aye. I’m still banned from yours, am I?”

“For tonight you are. If you’re serious about cashing in that raincheck, talk to me when you’re sober.”

“I’m not ready, Everett. There’s things I still need to put right about myself. But, I’m working on them.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Tomorrow, first thing, you and me, we’re going to talk to the Science Team about the pattern in the cosmic background radiation and the implications from that and why the Ancients launched Destiny. You know, a generation of those people worked to send Destiny out into the universe. They’re gone, but we’re here. And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” The way Nick looks right now, Everett’s strongly tempted to kiss him again.

He doesn’t. There’s a time and a place, and he vaguely recalls some lines from an old song that he knows were taken from the bible. Something about a time for every purpose under heaven. A time you may embrace and a time to refrain from embracing.

Yeah. A time to wait.

“C’mon, sailor. Time to see if you can still walk on your own.” He gives Nick a gentle nudge and walks him to his room, a hand firmly clasping Nick’s bicep. Nick, for some reason, thinks it’s funny to ask Everett questions in Ancient and assigns him homework to practice before their next class when he messes up an answer.

Nick’s maybe not as agile as he usually is as he takes off his jacket, but he’s still coherent and Everett judges he’s not in danger of passing out. He hands him a glass of water and while Nick rolls his eyes and accuses him of hovering, he drinks down all of it. He waits until Nick undresses down to his boxers and slides into bed before giving him a kiss on the forehead. Nick squints up at him with a slightly suspicious look that makes Everett grin before he closes his eyes and mumbles good night. Judging by Nick’s breathing he’s already half asleep before Everett leaves for his own quarters.

On the slow walk back to his own quiet quarters, he thinks about T.J., he thinks about Emily, probing himself cautiously like a doctor would after an injury. ‘Does it hurt here, what about over here?’

There is still some tenderness, but, he realizes, he is healed. His and T.J.’s relationship has transformed into something friendly and close and focused on their daughter. He’s good with this, with counting on her as a close friend, but not again as a lover. Emily, though, that door has been shut, locking him out of any ongoing friendship with his ex-wife. It’s just not how Emily does things. For her, better to cauterize the wound of divorce instead of trying for a slow healing that would allow them to keep in touch, talk to each other about their lives, laugh together.

He’s accepted that this is the way it will be with them. It doesn’t really pain him anymore, not as it did. He’s moved on and he feels good, he realizes. He’s made a life on the ship, and while his primary mission is to get the crew home, he’s fascinated and awed by what Destiny’s mission has been and still is.

And if the two missions should come into conflict with each other?

Sending the crew home will still be his first responsibility. But for himself, he’s not sure what he’ll do. Nick won’t leave the ship, not unless someone knocks him out and carries him through the gate.

His daughter should go to Earth, with T.J., where it’s safer and where she’ll have a chance to grow up with other kids, play softball or basketball, or soccer, or maybe be a cheerleader. Whatever she likes, where there are opportunities for her to choose from.

So, where will that leave him? Go to Earth or stay on Destiny?

At the moment, it doesn’t matter. Earth is a long way away from figuring out how to send supplies and personnel and how to gate them home. Maybe they never will figure it out. Maybe more children will be born and live on this ship. Maybe they’ll repair Destiny so that she’s at one hundred percent, able to protect them much better in case of an attack, make life support much more secure.

So, he stows away these issues for another day as he opens his door to his own tidy quarters. He has a brief flash of imagining how it would look in here if Nick moved in. Mugs of tea left to moulder, blankets rumpled, what little extra clothing Nick has tossed over chairs or thrown on the floor.

He pictures himself scooping up Nick’s shirt or the jacket Everett gave him from the deck and dumping it on his head as he slept in Everett’s bed. He smiles at the outraged look Nick would give him as he woke up, and how he would kiss the grumpiness away before pulling Nick out of bed and making him help clean up their quarters.

He thinks that if Nick does decide to cash in that raincheck in the future, he’ll let him.

* * *

He wakes in the morning feeling good. He’s had enough sleep, and his dreams were without any memories of torture or death or failure. He remembered he was playing peek a boo with Carmen, and then she was ten years old and he was coaching her to play softball. Nick was with him and he was giving a running commentary on the physics of throwing a pitch. Carmen hit the ball and then he was urging her to run and Nick was whistling and cheering for her and T.J. laughed as their daughter ran all the bases and slid like a bad ass into home plate.

After he’s showered and dressed, he hears the baby waking up and peeks in at her through the door Brody cut from his quarters to her room. T.J. hasn’t heard her yet, and he’s happy to let her sleep in a little longer. He picks Carmen up and walks with her around the room, showing her various pictures on the wall. He changes her and dresses her in a little blue dress that Camile has made for her from a pillow case. She’s smocked it, and it looks old fashioned and cute.

He sits down on the floor with her in his lap and the toy truck Riley had made and he makes truck noises for her and helps her push it around. She gurgles and coos and wiggles till he lays her on her tummy on the floor. She promptly rolls over onto her back and gives him a big toothless grin. She’ll be crawling one of these days, then toddling around, falling on her bottom, then climbing and running and asking questions about everything. “Daddy, why this, Daddy, why that?”

For now, she’s content to roll over again and push the truck and roll over to try and get it again. He’s watching her roll over to a soft cloth ball he thinks Lisa Park made for her when he hears his radio go off. He gets up and answers James’ request for him to come in, but he already knows why she’s called. He felt the drop out of FTL a few moments ago. There must be a planet that Destiny thinks they should stop at for supplies. With the wedding coming up, they could use it. He hopes she’s not calling to say that a Command or Scout ships are waiting for them. He doesn’t think so, though. Her tone of voice was puzzled, not urgent.

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, you’re not going to believe this. We’ve got what looks like our shuttle coming towards us. And someone on board is identifying himself as Dr. Caine.”

He’d wonder if she’d been hitting up the moonshine, but James is way too responsible for that. “That shuttle was left in a different galaxy, and it wasn’t even spaceworthy.”

“I know, sir,” James says, sounding concerned and incredulous. “Caine is asking for help with docking. He says he doesn’t know how he and the others got here.”

He’s already scooped up Carmen and T.J. is opening her door; he hands the baby over to her. “James, contact Colonel Telford, Scott, Greer, and Dr. Rush and tell them to get to the Bridge. I’m on my way. Young out.”

“I heard,” T.J. says. “I’ll have a medical team ready to go.”

“This can’t be the real Caine. This is more likely some kind of trick by the Nakai. Maybe they can influence us to hallucinate over a distance. Maybe through Chloe?”

“I’ll check on her.”

“Take a team with you. Don’t take any chances.”

“Yes, sir.” He’s out the door then.

He meets Nick running for all he’s worth at the door to the Bridge. They go into together, and hear the panicked voice of Robert Caine, who they’d left on a planet months and months ago, in a different galaxy, over the loud speaker asking again for help on how to dock the ship.

The shuttle is close enough to Destiny that they can see it very clearly.

Nick looks up from the monitors and nods at him. “Readings confirm it’s ours.”

“You think it’s real, not a hallucination from the Nakai through Chloe.”

Nick frowns. “I never got the sense that they could do such a thing. If they could, why didn’t the one that was captured when you changed with it on the stones try something then? I think this is our shuttle, but how it found us?” He shrugs and walks over to Everett.

‘You wondered,” Everett says in a low voice to Nick, “if this intelligence that put the clues in the Cosmic Background Radiation, might be watching us. I’m starting to wonder that, too. There’s no way that the shuttle can be here right now, for multiple reasons.”

“I’d advise caution, Colonel,” Rush says, as David, Scott, and Greer also enter the room.

“Oh, you bet,” Everett answered. “I already don’t like this.”

* * *

Notes:

https://binged.it/2rFvMWS A link to to Turn, Turn, Turn, by the Byrds. It's the song Everett vaguely remembers.

Chapter 28: Questions

Rush checks the shuttle log again. Again, there is nothing, nothing, that explains how it was sent to Destiny. No record of their travel through two galaxies. No course plotted out. As Caine keeps insisting, one moment they were on Eden and the next they were approaching Destiny in a shuttle that hadn’t even been spaceworthy when it was left for them as shelter on Eden. All of the crew who chose to stay on the planet have impaired memories. Or else they are lying.

None of them had the skills to pilot the shuttle, plot a course. The shuttle is not capable of holding enough energy for the trip, if taken the usual way. The shuttle gleams and looks remarkably new, considering its actual age. These aliens – or God, according to what Caine had been blathering about – had remade the thing, it seems.

The people who stepped off it, looking uncertain and confused, are uncanny, and he doesn’t like this strange journey of theirs one bit. Or them. They make his hackles rise up. Everett feels the same and has sensibly quarantined the lot of them.

His radio crackles with static, then “Dr. Rush, please respond.” He unfastens it from his belt and snaps out “What?” to Everett.

“Noticed the time, genius?”

Rush doesn’t have a watch, so no, he doesn’t know it. Fuck. “On my way.”

The briefing with the Science Team that they’d arranged to explain Destiny’s mission had been derailed by this business with the shuttle and they’d rescheduled to mid afternoon.

Apparently, he’s late.

He arrives, panting, at the Control Interface room, and dashes in to stand next to Everett. Lisa and Volker are talking quietly, heads bent together. Brody is working on a laptop, and Eli and Ginn are grinning foolishly at each other, hands clasped together. His heart clenches, because Chloe should be here. He’ll go see her when this briefing is over, make sure she’s not left out. Camile Wray and David, Scott, and Lieutenant Johanson are also here. David shoots him an amused look, and Camile not so subtly looks at her watch.

Everett clears his throat loudly, and the Science Team and the rest of the group look at him. “I’m gonna start this off by saying that what Dr. Rush has to tell you, I was with him when he was given the information. For the record, because I know it’s going to come up, I support what we were shown. More than that, I don’t believe he tampered with this information or planted it in Destiny’s memory banks. Frankly, it raises more questions than answers. You people may be able to find them. Maybe not, maybe you’ll just find more questions. We’ve always figured that this ship was launched for an important reason. And it was.”

Everett glances at him, smiles a little. The Science Team look like a hunting pack that have just sniffed out a tantalizing scent and are primed to follow it, to find out where it leads. He’s quite sure they’ll be annoyed with him if he were to say that to them, so he’ll just keep it to himself.

Everett lays a hand on his shoulder, a solid, grounding touch. “I joined Stargate Command because I loved the idea of exploring the universe. My job has always been to protect the guys who could figure things out, so they can tell the rest of us. Sometimes I’ve failed at that, but I’m damn sure trying to keep you all alive. So far, we’ve all been scrambling for survival. What Dr. Rush has to tell you changes our goals from that basic need to something that inspired an entire generation of Ancients to build and launch this ship. Dr. Rush, you’re up.”

He takes a deep breath. “I solved the last problem Destiny set as a test. We know Destiny’s mission now. It has to do with the Cosmic Background Radiation, evidence that our current instruments can not see, but the Ancients found with their much more advanced technology. Fingerprints left, you might say, of evidence of an intelligence that existed before time began. . .”

* * *

He leaves the Science Team to explore on their own what he and Everett had examined. Camile, Everett, and David have spared him from the current meeting with the rest of the crew about the mission. The Mess is the location and being center stage there had filled him with gut churning anxiety. Also, he’s quite happy to avoid the inane questions that are bound to be raised by the rest of the crewmembers. It almost certainly would have been as tedious as teaching introductory physics or single variable calculus.

He jogs along the corridor to Chloe’s room, thinking about how he’ll put his people into research teams to study Destiny’s mission. One team can consist of himself, Chloe, and Eli to see to the mathematics, and the other team of Lisa, Brody, Volker, and Ginn can work on the mechanical and astrophysics aspects. Ginn could be on his team, the lass is talented mathematically, but he’s dead sure that she and Eli will distract each other too much.

The guard on Chloe’s door knocks loudly before opening it for him. Chloe is lying on her bed, but her eyes are wide open. She doesn’t acknowledge him. He calls her name, but she ignores him.

Christ, she’s in one of her trances. He calls her name again; this time she sits up and gives him a weary smile. Her expression turns concerned almost immediately.

She shakes her head, apparently anticipating his question. “I wasn’t blacked out, Dr. Rush. I heard the knocking and knew you were here. I, well. I needed a moment, that’s all.”

“Are you all right?”

Her expression is much too fey for his liking.

“I’ve decided to ask Colonel Young to put me off the ship. I can’t continue like this, and I don’t want Matt to come with me. He has a life to live, he has a child. I have to make him let me go.”

“Chloe, no.” He can not stand this, that she would choose this. But fuck, he can see how the greater good would apply to her situation and he hates it, he hates it, but he can’t say she’s wrong. But he can’t lose her, he can’t. There must be another way. He will find a way, he will.

His chest is tight, and he feels like he can’t breathe.

There are no tears in Chloe’s eyes. He suspects she’s cried herself dry of them. She reaches up for his hand and pulls him down to sit next to her. She doesn’t look at him but stares at the door like she’s seeing something light years away. She sighs. “How fair is it for me to keep endangering the crew? They put a transmitter in you. I understand now why they didn’t do that to me. They didn’t have to. My transmitter is growing inside my brain and there’s no way to remove it. When the signal is strong enough, they’ll come for me, for the ship and I can’t be on Destiny when that happens.”

She looks somberly at him. “I can’t go back to them, to what you know they’ll do. Ronald has offered to help me out, but I think if Colonel Young can spare a gun and a bullet, I can wait on a planet.”

“No,” he whispers. “No.”

“My father died to save everybody on board. I’ve been thinking about him a lot, and I know what I have to do.”

He tightens his hand on hers; he won’t let her go, he won’t. He’s going to figure this out, he’s going to come up with a workaround and he won’t let Everett maroon her. So what if the bloody Nakai show up? He’ll destroy them if they come for her.

“My father told them to close the shuttle doors and sat there, knowing the air was being vented into space. I hated you for that, for bringing us here, for making his sacrifice necessary. I don’t hate you anymore. I stopped even before you rescued me. I love you and I’ll miss you. Please, help Colonel Young and Ronald take care of Matthew.”

“It will not come to tha’,” he chokes out. “I’ll no let it.”

She gives him another eldritch look, as if she’s already not part of this world. “It’s all right, Nicholas. But we won’t talk about it anymore.”

She pulls out his grasp then and walks over to the chalk covered wall. She sweeps a hand across the air in front of it. “I did the proof for that last problem. Did you submit our answers to the ship?”

He can’t answer her. She turns to look at him, and he nods.

She’s a brave lass, and he won’t shame her by breaking down. He gathers himself together and forces the words out, to explain about the mission, about the teams and how he needs her help.

She’s intrigued, and fuck this, he’ll take her to the Control Interface room even if Everett orders ten guards to be with her, so she can see the data.

He’ll not lose her. He won’t.

* * *

He goes to the Mess alone, and forces himself to eat dinner, without Everett there. The wedding is coming up and he can’t always be using Everett as a crutch. The food sits in his stomach like a rock, and he hopes it stays down.

He’s sipping tea, thinking about coffee and trying to decide if he’s glad he was forced to quit smoking cigarettes. Certainly anyone with an IQ above ninety realizes that the bloody things are bad for you, but he misses them anyway. Gloria would have been delighted that he’d had to quit again. He’d stopped the first time for her, when they began seeing each other. After she died, he started back up. He wasn’t much interested in his health at the time; he can practically visualize Everett rolling his eyes and telling him he isn’t any better now. Lieutenant Johanson has cornered him several times recently to lecture him about his sleep and calorie intake.

He knows he’s thinner than he’s been since he was a half starved graduate student. He hasn’t told Everett this, but sometimes after nightmares he’s been nauseous to the point of vomiting.

If it gets worse, maybe he will talk to Lieutenant Johanson. Perhaps there’s a stomach settling tea he can drink before falling into bed.

Sex burns calories, he’s fair sure, and he and David have spent a lot of nights together. He’ll see him again tonight. His strategy has been successful in many ways. He does feel more comfortable with touch now, but he’s uneasy about how David seems to be too invested in being with him.

David says all the right things back to him, says of course he knows Rush’s limits, and that this is not a relationship. More and more, though, Rush is starting to doubt that’s true in David’s mind.

Soon, he’ll end it. Soon.

He looks up as someone approaches the table where he’s been alone since sitting down. It’s Caine. Everett has let the Eden survivors out of quarantine, although not without qualms. They are an odd bunch, and most of the crew avoid them. In Eli’s words, they’re creepy.

“May I join you?” Robert Caine is a polite man, and Rush wants to refuse him, but instead indicates for him to sit down. They’re mostly alone, with only a few scattered crewmembers still there after Becker has stopped serving for the night.

Caine gives him an intent look, and he can smell the fanaticism wafting off the man. “I wanted to ask you about Destiny’s mission. I was told that you believe there is a message in the CBR, that it’s proof of an intelligence before time began. Our return from Eden, there’s no other word for it than a miracle. And us being here on this ship, you dialing the ninth chevron and now finding the reason the ship was sent out across galaxies, it seems that you are doing this higher power’s work.”

Rush crosses his arms over his chest and stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Oh, bloody hell, if you want to call it the hand of God at work, nobody’s stopping you. But I never called it that. And I’m no a puppet that some super intelligence is pulling the strings and making my decisions.”

“Denial of God’s plan for one’s life is common; I’m just asking you to keep an open mind, Dr. Rush.” Caine is soft spoken and intense and Rush has no desire to talk about any of this with him. He’s sure to offend the man.

Perhaps he doesn’t care much about that.

Bollocks. He ought to just walk away but instead he gives in to his annoyance. “Well then, let me ask you this. The shuttle was returned to us in perfect condition. But this intelligence, God, let’s say, didn’t do the same for you lot. Mr. Chan surely had a full head of hair once. This higher power didn’t fix that, now did it? Or correct everyone else’s physical ailments.”

Caine’s lips form a straight line, and he looks at him with a look that to be fair, he probably doesn’t feel is condescending, but that’s how Rush is seeing it. “I know that you were tortured and raped in this room, and it can be hard to see how God would allow something so terrible. But I hear that you and Colonel Young are close now, that it came about because of what happened to you.”

Caine reaches over and lays his hand on Rush’s arm, but Rush jerks his arm free and glares at Caine.

It doesn’t seem to matter to Caine. He smiles a little and says. “Frankly, that seems miraculous to me, since I remember how you both were before we stayed on Eden. And now, the Colonel is backing you on the mission you discovered. I would say that the hand of God has indeed been guiding this crew and in particular, you. That’s a lot to take in, and speaking from experience, it helps to have some spiritual guidance.”

He’s shaking. The idea that he’d been so helpless to stop the touches, the dicks rammed into his mouth and ass, the terror and pain he’d endured, so that God could, what? Teach him a lesson? Make him so in need of help and protection that Everett had put aside his dislike of him to offer it to him? All so that they would work together, be friends, for when he discovered what Destiny’s mission was from the data banks?

He stands up. “Think whatever the fuck you want, Caine. But I’m a bloody scientist, not a religious fanatic. This evidence of an intelligence far vaster than ourselves is just that. An intelligence, one that we know very little about. I will decipher this message. I don’t need any bloody spiritual guidance.” He starts to stride out, but Caine gets in his way. He’s not sure when the man moved away from the table.

Caine puts a hand on his arm, again and he shakes it off. “Don’t touch me,” he spits out, and shite, his voice is lacking the ‘fuck off and die’ quality he was trying to emulate. Instead, he just sounds shaky and plaintive. He needs to get the fuck out of here. Caine’s words are bringing thoughts back that he doesn’t want to have in his head, and his breathing is too fast. Fuck, he’s heading for a panic attack.

There’s a roaring in his ears and his heart is racing. He feels disoriented and he’s terrified that he’s never left the table and what he thinks has been months free of torture and rape has just been a kind of waking dream and he never saved the crew, he never killed all those Lucians, and Colonel Young and the rest of crew are still prisoners. Kiva’s eyes are on him and she’s utterly crushed him. He belongs to her and she will decide if he lives or dies on this table. Dying might be the better option.

He feels for the screwdriver in the cuff of the jacket he’s wearing and it’s there, small and deadly and this is Everett’s jacket, the one he gave him after his torture had ended.

He’s not on the table. He’s not. He lets out a shaky breath. God, but he feels exhausted from fighting these mental battles, and he hears Caine’s voice sounding alarmed. He can’t make out the words, and he feels like his brain has turned to mush.

He ignores him. He feels a bit like he’s drifting and he’s not quite sure what is happening to him.

Then he hears David’s voice and he didn’t know he’d closed his eyes until David tells him to open them and look at him. He does and he follows David’s low, calm voice telling him what to do and then he’s reciting examples of circular primes. His breathing is slowing and the sweat on his skin is cooling and David is rubbing the tense muscles at the back of his neck.

It feels good. David is helping him. He’s not supposed to touch him in public but he can’t make himself tell him to stop.

“Want to get the hell out of here?” David asks, and fuck, yes, he does. Caine is nowhere in sight, but he sees he’s become the center of attention of the rest of the people still in the Mess. He flushes, and turns away from them, looks up at David.

“Nick,” he says and gives a nod to the door.

He goes with David to his quarters; he doesn’t really remember walking down the corridor. David leans him against the wall. His knees are wobbly, so perhaps that’s a good thing. David is so careful when he checks the corridor for spying kinos or nosy bastards, before guiding him inside his quarters with an arm around his shoulders. He is careful with him when he unzips Rush’s jacket and pulls off his shirt, and he is careful when he touches him, and he pets Rush’s hair and he walks him to the bed and lays him down, takes off Rush’s shoes and socks and jeans and boxers. He’s being considerate and thoughtful and gentle, and his hands sweep up and down Rush’s body.

David is kind of humming, not really talking to him, just saying ‘is this okay?’ and, ‘so nice,’ and ‘God, you’re beautiful,’ kissing his mouth, laying on top of him and his clothes are still on and the feel of his uniform against Rush’s skin, it’s doing something to him, making him feel so very naked. A whimper escapes him and David likes this, and so he’ll let him, because he owes him, and he’s just helped him not to lose his bloody mind there in the Mess. He owes him and David likes him to be totally naked sometimes when he’s wearing his black uniform and the cloth is rough against his skin and David likes to move on top of him and the friction will redden his skin but that’s all right, he doesn’t mind, not really, and he both likes this and doesn’t like it, but David does and he’ll do as David wants.

This is all right. David is taking very good care of him and he’s being very careful and takes him in his mouth, lapping and sucking until he’s hard, then David’s undoing his uniform and pulling out his own dick, and he’s asking, ‘let me, Nick?’ and he’s not sure what that means but he says yes, because David will not hurt him and David is helping him to enjoy sex again and this does feel interesting and he’ll let David do what he wants. David helped him to not fall apart in front of Caine, the git, and he owes him for that and this is how he will repay what he owes, because David likes having sex with him, especially when Rush is so very naked and David can see everything on his body but David’s body is covered up, hidden from him and this feels uneven, but David likes it to be uneven between them. He likes having the upper hand and David is a big man, a very strong man, and he feels small right now, because he’s so naked, and David likes him to feel this way, small and naked. But it’s all right. He doesn’t mind and David is being so careful with him. Like he’s breakable and small and soft. Fragile. He’s kissing his inner thighs now and pushing up Rush’s legs so they’re very open and he’s between them. He’s a big man and he pulls Rush up a little so his ass is on top of David’s thighs.

He’s rubbing an oil that feels tingly on Rush’s dick and around and in his hole, and they’ve done this much before, but no fucking, no penetrating, and this time David will do it because he’s said “all right” and David has been wanting to fuck him since they started sleeping together.

David takes a long time to prepare him, and he’s not exactly shutting his eyes and thinking of England but he does feel odd, a bit disconnected from his body and he’s aware that his thinking has gone a bit fuzzy, and that it’s been that way since he was in the Mess. It’s all right. It’s not like he needs to be sharp and doing calculations. All he needs to do is to lie here, and feel David’s mouth on his dick when he starts to soften and David’s hands touching him, moving him, raising him up to slide pillows under his ass, David’s breath in his ear, David’s tongue circling his nipples, David’s fingers inside him.

David is pushing inside him with his dick, and telling him what to do, and he does it. He cooperates and yes, right now he is a team player, and he’s not being obstructive and all the rest of the adjectives that describe his evaluations. He’s feeling stretched and full and David is fucking him and it’s not the first time, no, not the first time or even the second or third time David has done this to him, but it’s the first time he’s welcomed it and consented to it.

This is not rape. This is not rape, no, he’s consented and David is being careful with him and it’s all right. He asked David to have sex with him weeks and weeks ago and perhaps this is graduation day for him, he’s earning his diploma right now and when David finishes with him, perhaps then, he’ll be finished with David.

He’s not one hundred percent in his body right now, he knows this about himself and it’s all right. It’s all right, he’s all right, the friction, the feel of David inside of him, the scent of sex, the cloth against his skin, his legs so wide open, and this time it’s his choice to open his legs so that a man can fuck him; it’s not like it was on the table, when he had no choice and his agency had been taken from him, when he’d been tied down, been made to be a receptacle for so many men’s semen, for women and men to stick fingers inside of him and make him bleed.

David is being careful and he stops his thrusting and asks, “You okay, Nick?”

He considers the question, and he knows if he says he’s not all right, David will stop, will pull out of him, will be concerned that he’s crossed a line Nick wasn’t ready to allow yet, and be attentive and make him say what’s rattling about in his head.

He makes a real effort to sharpen up, to be here, to be present and not be sliding away to where he’d gone when he couldn’t bear it any longer when he was being raped in the Mess, with all the eyes on him and hearing sobs or laughing, or jeers.

“Nick?”

“I’m all right,” he whispers. “I’ll be all right.”

David gives him a strange look. “I need to hear you say it. Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

He’ll not fail this test. He’s always taken it as a personal affront if he isn’t graded well, and fuck Kiva, fuck her, fuck her, fuck her, she won’t stop him from retaking this part of his life back. From her. From them. The ones who made him into a sex toy and an example of what happens if you don’t obey the Lucian Alliance.

He uses every bit of his will power and makes himself be in this moment. He is in control. He decides what he wants. He will make it happen. David is looking concerned now and he tenses and starts to withdraw from Rush’s body.

No. He’ll say the words and he’ll mean every one of them.

“Don’t bloody move, you bastard,” he says, and he can see relief flood David’s face. “I want you to fuck me. So do it, all right. Just fuck me.”

David takes that as orders, apparently because he resumes thrusting and Rush grunts with the force of it and David’s not sparing him, not being tender and careful now and that’s good, because he’s bloody well not fragile and soft and all right, yes, in the spirit of being truthful he is on the small side for a man, but who bloody cares about that, he’s tougher than most men who are a deal taller and stronger and more muscular than he is, and he’s proved that over and over and he’ll prove it now, to David, and he tightens down on him and David makes a surprised, pleased sound, and yes, he’ll make David lose this attitude he has of being in charge here.

David recognizes this as the challenge he means it to be, and gives him a filthy grin. He slides his dick slowly down the inside of Rush’s passage and stops when Rush breathes sharply in. God, that was. . .

“Like that, do you?” David says and thrusts again, right there, and Rush is shocked at the pleasure that comes from that and he clamps down and David’s mouth slackens.

They go at it like they’re enemies targeting the other’s weakness and hammering away so that Rush actually screams from David’s relentless attention to what he’s realized is his prostrate and David lets loose a string of profanities as Rush holds himself taunt around David’s dick. David has penetrated him but Rush won’t let him go easily.

David leans down and kisses him, wet and open mouthed, and Rush’s hands grips him hard, sure to leave bruises on David’s biceps, but he doesn’t give a fuck about that, and he wants to plunder David’s mouth but he has no leverage like this, and David is a brilliant strategist, Everett says, and it seems he is decent at it because while he was distracted with the kissing, David found Rush’s prostrate again, giving forceful thrusts against it and he’s breathing fast and his toes are curling and when David tightens a hand around Rush’s dick and begins to stroke him, he knows he’s lost this battle.

David has won, and of course he did, he made Rush come on the table, after all, but Rush will take him down with him this time.

“David,” he breathes out, when the man has at last let him breathe again, and he’s on the edge, so on the edge, and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t come yet but he’s going to hold off until he sees that tight grimace on David’s face.

“What, Nick?” David says, and thrusts into him so quickly that he can’t regain the tight grip he’d had on him.

“You. . . ah, go. . . first”

David smirks down at him as he again thrusts against the bloody wonderful place inside him. “Baby, I don’t think so,” and he’s rubbing a thumb over the head of Rush’s dick and it’s so sensitive, and he feels his orgasm coming like a wormhole blasting out from the stargate and he screams again from the intensity, he can’t stop himself, and David is laughing and fucking him as he shakes and spurts, milking him afterwards until all he has left are desperate, pleading sounds while a little more semen is forced out of him.

David looks down at him, his eyes hazy, and he’s fucking him with slow thrusts for long minutes while Rush is too exhausted and dazed to do anything more than to lie there and take it.

“I fucking love you like this, Dr. Rush,” David says. “All fucked out and all mine.”

He pulls Rush up until he’s straddling David; he slumps against him with David’s strong arm against his back. He wants this to be over now. He wants to sleep, but David kisses him and rocks up into him. The sounds that make are obscene and he feels like a rag doll right now as David jounces him, but he makes an effort to push up, to regain some control of their love making.

David doesn’t let him. “Shhh,” he says, “be still.” He lays him back down and he’s back to the slow fucking. Rush tightens down and David laughs. “Figures you can’t follow an order. But just relax and let me do the driving. I love doing this to you, when you’re like this.”

He wants to argue, but he’s tired. David won their little battle. He supposes that gives him the right to take the spoils as he sees fit, so he does as he asks. He closes his eyes and David kisses them, murmurs, “So obedient. So good.”

It makes him feel odd to hear David says such rubbish.

David’s breathing hard, and he’s sweaty against him. “God, you’re gorgeous. Want to do this to you every night, see you give it up for me.” David makes a sucking bite on the side of Rush’s neck and he makes a sound of protest. Fuck, that’s going to bruise and anyone who sees it will know he’s been sexually marked. God damn David for that.

“Hush,” David says, his voice sounding rough. “I’m gonna--”

He can feel David coming inside of him and he sighs, ready to have him pull out and be done. David lays on top of him and he’s very heavy and Rush couldn’t move if he tried. David’s grinning against his lips. He’s not trying to kiss him, this is. . . this feels. . .

He’s dominating you, a clinical inner voice announces to him. Fuck. He’s not sure about that idea. But if he had made David come first, wouldn’t he have been a bit pushy about how he wanted to finish?

Bugger it. He’s too tired for these kind of thoughts.

David slides out of him and he’s mostly asleep, when he feels David pet his hair. It’s soothing, actually, and he can’t tell if he’s dreaming or not when David whispers something to him about fucking him later when he’s asleep.

Maybe he mumbles yes. He feels sticky and a shower would be nice, but he can’t move.

He’s drifting when David comes back to bed and arranges him so that he’s half sprawled on top of him.

David’s rag doll, he thinks, and doesn’t care for that idea, but he’s too exhausted to roll away. He falls asleep to the sound of David’s heartbeat against his ear.

* * *

He’s dreaming of scrubbing himself in the shower, but every time he thinks he’s clean he looks down at his naked body and he’s covered again with filth, sticky with semen and urine and spit, and he has to start all over again.

Koz is watching him, one hand cupped over his groin, rubbing himself, and his eyes are crinkling up in a smile. After Rush again fails in his attempt to clean himself up, Koz calls, “Dinn,” and motions for him to come near.

His name is not Nicholas Rush, PhD. Kiva has taken it from him. He’d forgotten that. He has to use the name the Lucians gave him, or he will be punished.

Dinn is obedient. He walks naked over to Koz who motions for him to kneel down, and unzips his pants. Dinn does what Koz wants, and sucks the Lucian’s dick until the man pulls out and comes in his own hand. He motions for Dinn to stand up and he proceeds to wipe him all over with his spunk.

“Get clean, Dinn,” Koz tells him. This time the soap does its job and Koz envelopes him in a fluffy towel. “I’m going to fuck you now,” Koz tells him. “You remember how I told you I’ll make you like it?”

Dinn doesn’t answer, just closes his eyes as Koz dries him, then swings him up in his arms, naked, and carries him down the corridors where the other Lucians give the man slaps on the back and wish him luck. Volker is there, too, and he stares at Dinn as Koz carries him past him and the rest of the Science Team. Brody is standing there holding a bowl of the protein mush and shrugs when he realizes that Dinn can’t take it from him. Ginn is hiding behind Eli, who crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Koz. Lisa is crying, a hand over her mouth, stifling her sobs. Chloe stands in a trance, and he can see the oddly beautiful blue patterns on her skin, a parting gift from the Nakai.

Caine is there, along with the rest of the poor deluded souls he talked into staying on Eden, all of them watching him with soulless eyes.

Koz takes him to the observation deck where a bed has been set up, comfortably adorned with blankets and sheets and pillows. Some of the crew and the Lucians follow him into the room streaming with the soft colored lights of the shields and find places to sit on the benches or the floor.

Koz lays him down on the bed and puts a hand over his mouth. “Be still. Be a good obedient boy, Dinn.”

He wants to protest that he’s probably a decade older than Koz and no boy at all, but Koz kisses him and then puts a finger to Dinn’s lips. “Shhhh now. You are remade and you’re beautiful like this. Spread your legs for me, sweet Dinn, and I’ll take care of you. You’re mine, for tonight.”

Dinn spreads his legs wide, and Koz fucks him; he wants to close his eyes and he wants to slide away to somewhere else in his head but Koz tells him he must look at the spectators while he’s being fucked. It’s Kiva’s rule, and no one on the ship will defy her, least of all to spare him his dignity.

Tears slip down his face, because Koz was right. He feels arousal thrumming through his body and Koz is fucking him and it feels pure dead fantastic and he looks up into Koz’s smiling face and feels such shame as he comes all over his belly. He shuts his eyes as the people with them laugh and jeer at him.

Koz keeps going, but harder now, rougher, and when Dinn feels him shudder into his own orgasm he opens his eyes and starts shrieking in horror.

Koz is dead, his eyes bulging, tongue swollen, and his flesh is decaying at a rapid pace until he’s a skeleton with putrid bits of his body falling off the bones and onto him.

He can’t stop screaming. He tries to push the skeleton off him, to free himself but the skeleton’s hands grab his flailing wrists and hold him down.

He struggles and in desperation he cries out for Everett’s help.

The skeleton is urgently calling his name. His real name, not Dinn, but Nick.

“Nick, wake the fuck up. C’mon, wake up!”

He’s. . . dreaming? Fuck, he prays it’s a dream. He opens his eyes and sees David above him.

David is holding his wrists down on the mattress, kneeling between his legs. He looks concerned.

He can’t talk. He’s wrung out and he realizes why he’d been dreaming about being fucked.

David had been fucking him while he slept. He hadn’t even woken up, but he’d reacted to what David was doing. He’d orgasmed in his sleep because he can feel the evidence on his belly and his insides feel tender; he feels a trickle of David’s semen leaving his body.

God.

He wonders if he’ll ever get past what Kiva had ordered done to him. He stares up at David, and he’s still crying, he can feel the tears sliding down to his face to the sheets.

“Nick, you with me?” David asks. “You know who I am? Fuck, do you know who you are and where you are? Do you remember what we did tonight?”

A little bitterly, he says, “I’m not Everett Young. Seems that’s who you wanted me to be though.”

Who is he? He’d thought he’d left Dinn behind, but it seems it doesn’t take much to bring that cowed and traumatized part of himself out of hiding. Desolation engulfs him and he wants a shower, by himself, with no one else around, but first he’s got to deal with David. He did tell him he could take him in his sleep. They’d done something similar before and it had been a sleepy relaxed experience for him. But this time David had entered him. He hadn’t even woken up and that surprises him. He was truly exhausted and perhaps the earlier lovemaking had made it quite easy for David to slide into him and in doing so trigger old memories and fears.

“Nick, if you don’t start talking to me, I’m calling T.J.” David scrambles off the bed and pulls Rush up by his wrists so he’s sitting up.

He’s so tired. He looks down at where David has a firm grip on his wrists. David likes being in charge. He likes keeping a firm hold on him.

Well, fuck that.

“Let me go, Colonel Telford,” he says.

“In a minute. I’m not sure you wouldn’t just bolt for the door and do something stupid. So, you know who I am. How about telling me who you are and where you’re at.”

God, he hates orientation questions. He must look a sight, if David thinks he needs to ask them.

“Nicholas Rush. We’re in your quarters. I had a nightmare, David, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“No deal,” David says, and he sits down on the bed and pulls Rush into his lap. They’re both naked now, at least. He holds him securely and kisses the side of his neck. “Part of this whole thing with you and me is that you have to tell me what goes on in your head. Don’t even bother arguing, Nick. You always feel better afterwards and what ever you were dreaming must have been awful to make you cry and scream like that in your sleep.”

David lets go of his hands. He could break free if he tried. But David is right about their agreement, and he’s trying to be better at being a human being. David feels warm and he’s still very tired. He doesn’t want to go back to sleep, though; he’s afraid that dream will start back up.

He can’t deny that David’s comfort is appealing right now. David stays quiet, not rocking him, thank God, because that would have made him feel like a child, but his arms are around him, and that’s acceptable. More than acceptable, actually.

“Aye, all right then. I did give you my word.” He’ll use David’s shower and go back to his own room when he’s done.

“The dream, I must have been incorporating what you were doing with me into it. I was back to being. . .” he hesitates and David tightens his arms around him. Perhaps there is the suggestion of rocking, but Rush ignores it. “I was still Dinn, and the Lucians were alive.”

His mouth is dry, but he soldiers on with his story, about Koz and how he had promised to make him like being fucked. How Koz used to watch him undress and shower and dry him off afterwards. He’d carried him when he hadn’t been able to walk and when Kiva had allowed him time to heal before becoming the ship’s whore, had offered him food in exchange for masturbating in front of him and his friends.

“Did you?” David asks, his voice carefully neutral.

“No. But I might have. If things hadn’t happened the way they did.” He curls up a little more in David’s lap. It’s excruciating being honest like this.

“If you hadn’t killed him and the other Lucians,” David says, evenly. It’s a reminder, perhaps, that he hadn’t been without agency in the end.

“Yes.” He’d cooperated while on the table for water and food, had licked and sucked his captors’ dicks so he could survive. If he couldn’t find another way, he’d have done as Koz asked. He’d have stood there naked in front of him and his mates and stroked himself, while they commented on his performance until he’d made himself come for their enjoyment. “I’m fair sure I would have done it before starving. I could have gone to the Mess, it wasn’t forbidden, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Koz’s bargain would have been the easier choice.”

“What happened in your dream?” David starts running a hand up and down his back.

He tells him and can’t stop shuddering. David gropes for the comforter and tucks it around themselves.

“Man, that was a terrible nightmare, but you did good, Nick,” he says when he’s done regurgitating the disgusting details. “You did fine. You’re strong, you know. Stubborn as hell, but it can be a strength. You hold onto what you want, a life free of Kiva’s influence. I’ll keep helping you, okay?” He kisses Rush on his temple and they stay that way for a time, quiet, with Rush still on David’s lap. He could push off. He chooses not to.

Finally, David says, “It was good, you know. Being inside you.” He kisses Rush’s neck again, ends it with hint of a bite that makes him shiver for an entirely different reason. “I loved fucking you earlier and when you were asleep. I was really surprised you didn’t wake up, though.”

He is, too. God, when he gives in to exhaustion he’s really out of it apparently. Perhaps the lectures Lieutenant Johanson and Colonel Young give him on a regular basis on his sleep habits should be taken more seriously. Gloria had scolded him when he’d been foolish about overworking and giving up sleep. He’d never taken it to the extreme he had on Destiny, though. To be fair, if he hadn’t they would surely have been in much worse shape during their many emergencies.

He yawns. The dream is fading now, from his mind. Spilling all that rubbish to David had been cathartic and he’s sleepy, suddenly. David nuzzles his hair.

“Go back to sleep, baby,” David whispers. His eyes are shutting of their own accord, but mentally he’s rolling them in exasperation. David and his ridiculous endearments.

He wants to ask David if he actually meant it when he told him weeks ago that Rush could fuck him, if he liked.

He thinks that would be fair. Balanced. David likes to be in charge and that’s fine, as long as they take turns. He wonders if he can bring David to a state of utter blissful collapse the way David had managed with him.

David’s laying him down on the bed, sliding out from under him, covering the two of them with the comforter. Vaguely, he remembers he was going to shower and leave.

It’s the last thought he has before going under into REM sleep.

* * *

He hears Everett’s voice asking for a response and he sits up and blearily reaches for the radio by the bed.

It’s taken from his hand. Miffed, he reaches for it and David shakes his head.

Why was David in his room, in his bed?

David laughs, amused. “Wake up, Nick. You’re in my bed, in my room.”

Fuck, he must have said that out loud.

Everett again asks for David to come in. David says mildly, “Better be quiet, unless you want Everett to know we’re sleeping together. It’s your rule, not mine, after all. It’s fine with me if the entire crew knows.”

He scowls at David, scrubs at his eyes, runs a hand through tangled hair. Infuriatingly, David looks awake and alert, ready to respond to any situation, even though he’s as naked as Rush.

David grins at him, and answers the radio. “Everett, what is it?”

“Yeah, Sorry to wake you up, but we’ve got a situation here with Caine’s group. Get down to the infirmary ASAP.”

David’s out of bed. “Will do. What's the situation?”

“The group from Eden are dying. One by one, and it’s god damned strange, TJ says. The first woman died from a blunt force trauma, except she was just sitting quietly, talking to Eli when she keeled over. The second one died of hypothermia in the infirmary. She’d been in her quarters, and the temperature was normal. Camile’s been trying to hypnotize them, but their memories are patchy. She’s got Caine under right now. Young out.”

David tosses the radio on the bedside table, leans down and kisses him. “You heard all of that, right? I’ve got to go, but I’m taking a shower first. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

His own radio goes off. “Young to Rush. Wake up, genius. We’ve got a situation here with Caine’s group.”

David rolls his eyes, and shrugs. “Why Everett contacted you beats me. There’s nothing a mathematician can do.”

Rush feels gratified that Everett’s brought him in on this, even though it’s doubtful he’ll be much help. It feels important for David to realize that while Everett is certainly the commander of this mission, he shares it with him and Camile. David wouldn’t have included him, because he thinks the command structure should be strictly military.

By the time he’s done talking with Everett, David is out of his small bathroom. His hair is damp, but combed and he’s shaved. He’s dressing at a rapid pace.

He looks good. Strong, athletic build. He’s intelligent, has been very considerate to him. He believes in using the rubric of the greater good to make decisions as much as Rush believes in it. He’s been fantastic in bed.

So why is he balking at saying yes to the relationship he knows David wants to have with him?

David sits at his desk and puts on his boots. When he’s done he strides over to where Nick is still sitting on the bed. He bends down and kisses him again, quite thoroughly. When he stops, he grins and ruffles his hair.

“You look adorable, all sleepy and tousled.”

“‘m not adorable, cute, or anything else in that ilk.” He frowns up at David, who smirks back at him.

“Would you accept grumpy?” David says, straight on teasing now.

He can’t help it. A small grin escapes him. “Maybe,” he says.

David laughs, and it makes him look very attractive. “I want to see you again tonight. If you don’t show up in the evening, I’ll come looking for you.”

He leaves then, and Rush watches, thinking about why his gut instinct is telling him that it would be a bad idea to really be with David, or to fall for him.

Can he even trust himself to make good decisions when it comes to relationships? Aside from Gloria, his track record hasn’t been that good. He hadn’t even known Mandy was interested in him for far too long. Before he was married he’d had several false starts with both men and women. Sometimes he’d just gone to bars for a one night stand, before Gloria.

Gloria had wanted him, too, like David does. But she . . . she hasn’t made it about her getting him to do what she wanted. More and more, it feels like that’s what David wants with him. Like he’s raw material David can shape into someone who fills his needs. But what about his needs? Yes, David is helping him with the whole trauma about sex thing and he’s the only one on board Rush would have approached. But he never thought David might actually go past doing the favor he said he owed Rush.

David, he’s fair sure, would love to dominate him. More and more, he’s letting that slip into their sex sessions. He’s not sure what he feels about that. In one way, it would be relaxing not to have to think about things, to take responsibility for David’s pleasure. But would it only happen in the bedroom? And what about taking turns? He might accommodate David’s kink, if in return David would respect his wishes. His boundaries. He’s been pushing against the rules they negotiated, especially about no public touching. Last night was bound to generate some rumors about the two of them, the way he’d caressed Rush’s neck in the mess when he was gone a bit loopy.

David collects people; he has a whole cadre of scientists in the SGC who think he’s the best thing since sliced bread. He’d collected a lot of the IOA, Cloe’s mum, other people in the American government.

David had tried to collect him once before, when they’d first met. Apparently Rush had been too much trouble to deal with and he’d stopped his efforts. Maybe being the one who got away from his net has motivated David to try again. Rush isn’t grieving now, after all. He’s getting over the damage Kiva had inflicted.

Maybe he’s not such a lot of work anymore. He smiles, thinking of Everett's not very subtle standard remark about him. Everett does own it, he’ll give him that. Speaking of the man, he should stop this woolgathering and get down to the Infirmary.

Everett knows he’ll not be of any use, probably, but he wants him there anyway. Everett does need his support, that’s been clear to him for a long time. And now, he’s happy to give it to him. They’ve become good friends. He’s seriously wondered about being with Everett, and they do have a raincheck of sorts, towards a relationship. There’s always been an attraction between them, although it had become pretty twisted before they got things straight between them. Becoming lovers could screw up their friendship, though, and that’s something he doesn’t want to lose.

Christ, he never thought he’d be sitting here trying to figure out his love life. He misses Gloria suddenly with all of his heart. Back at the SGC and on Icarus, when he’d have these moments, he’d drown in grief. But now it’s different, he can remember her and miss her and not fall apart. Well, he’d best stop sitting here and do something useful.

He jumps up and jogs to David’s miniscule shower. He doesn’t understand why the Ancients skimped on the dimensions. For someone of his size, it’s fine, but David must find it cramped.

He dresses quickly and finger combs his hair. He hasn’t bothered to shave and his shirt is not fresh. He takes one of David’s black military T-shirts and pulls it on.

David won’t mind. He loves it when Rush wears his clothes. He makes a mental note to remember to give it back after he does laundry. If Rush borrows his clothes, it’s purely for practical reasons. He certainly doesn’t get any sexual pleasure from wearing it.

But David does get aroused when Rush wears his shirt. He’s got eyes, after all. By itself, he doesn’t care or he wouldn’t wear anything of David’s. But he does fit it into the pattern that’s been emerging of this quasi-relationship he’s begun with David. He has to think on all of this. Perhaps he can write an algorithm to make things clearer to him. Graph out their interactions or even use a simple statistical T-Test.

He runs down to the Infirmary, feeling a bit sore in various places, but it’s good to be able to move quickly, to stretch his muscles.

He speeds up. Everett needs him, after all.

* * *

Chapter 29: Preparations

The funerals were held the day after Caine died. He had lived the longest out of the entire Eden group, but in the end he too expired from hypothermia. The Science Team were poring over the footage from the kino found in the shuttle; it included Caine’s last words -- a prayer for help -- and a bright light enveloping the shuttle entrance.

The crew found their deaths extremely unsettling, and people were jumpy, anxious. Camile had set up counseling sessions, both private ones and with groups, to help, as she put it, people process what had happened.

It had been like something out of a horror story, with the Eden crew being something akin to zombies, dead, but still moving, thinking, breathing. Talking. But wrong somehow. Caine had told T.J. that he felt like his soul had already gone on, with his first death.

At least Caine had decided that it had to have been aliens, and not God, who had done this to them. God would not be so cruel, he had said, to take their souls and leave their bodies still living. He still believed that God had a plan for each and every one of them, even if it was beyond human understanding to comprehend why terrible things happened to them and their loved ones. It wasn’t, he explained earnestly to Everett, that God was punishing people. God wasn’t chastising Dr. Rush for bringing the crew to Destiny by having the Lucians rape him, he said.

He’d left Caine to T.J.’s care, and decided that Nick probably shouldn’t talk to the guy anymore. He’d already shared his point of view with him in the Mess, Caine told him, and however Nick had taken it, Caine felt the need to apologize before he died.

Nick, David, T.J., and James and Greer, Camile, and Matthew had all been with him on the death watch. Greer had suggested guards be posted in the cold room they’d decided to move the bodies to after the reanimations started failing. Maybe they’d all seen too many horror movies, with the dead rising back up for vengeance or to eat people’s brains, but everyone had looked relieved when he’d taken the suggestion and turned it into orders.

T.J and James had tended to the dying, Camile had waited until Dr. Chan’s death before leaving to report to the IOA. The rest of them had basically waited it out, and Nick stuck pretty close to him.

He appreciated that, actually, knowing Nick had his back. That he could talk to him about the deaths, and just his steady presence helped, just as knowing that the military he’d ordered here also had his back.

To be honest, though, he was feeling ambivalent about David, because David had pulled him aside and asked him point blank why he’d brought Rush into this.

“There’s nothing he can do. Send him to bed, Everett.” David kept shooting looks over at Nick, and Everett wondered why David cared.

“He’s the head of the Science Team,” Everett replied. “This is science related, even if it’s pretty god damned weird science. Besides, we keep each other apprised of situations that come up. He needs to be here, just like Camile.”

David grasped Everett’s shoulder, squeezed it gently. Everett knew that gesture. It means that David felt like he needed to get something through to Everett. For his own good, obviously. Sometimes he’d ended up taking David’s advice, sometimes not. David said quietly, “Camile Wray is the IOA representative. Dr. Rush is a civilian, not military. He’s got no say in the command structure. Besides, look at him. He’s obviously still exhausted. You can fill him in tomorrow, when all of this is over.”

Everett has, by necessity, become an expert in deciphering Rush levels of tiredness. He won’t intervene until Nick gets to the point where he’s liable to do something by accident that would blow up the ship. Nick’s tired tonight, but he’s obviously gotten some sleep. He’s not going to rant himself into passing out, and he’s not even remotely close to where he’s so out of it that, as Everett has told him before, a Nakai could tap dance in front of him and he wouldn’t notice.

“I’ve sent him to bed before, sure, but he’s not to that point, David. Unless he’s being a hazard to himself and the crew, I’m not going to go all parental and tuck him in.” Everett runs a hand through his hair. Compared to David’s neat, short hair cut, he looks disheveled, with his rumpled uniform and curly hair. It’s a gift David has, even coming on early morning like this and woken up in the middle of the night, to look alert and pressed. He’s pretty sure his own eyes look red rimmed and far from alert.

“Dr. Rush’s advice and thoughts are something I want to hear, David,” he finally tells him and steps back, so that David is forced to let go. “I need him here, and he wants to stay.”

“Even if it’s not what’s best for him? He’s the most traumatized of all the crew, Everett. He doesn’t need to be in high stress situations while he’s recovering from rape and torture.” David had used his best ‘reasonable’ voice. Certainly Nick had experienced the most torture with the Lucians, but he really wasn’t sure how you would measure the effects of trauma between people. All of the crew had been effected by the Lucian take over.

Nick was doing his job, and he was fighting as hard as he knew to regain his agency. His gut instinct was telling him that overriding Nick’s own assessment of his ability to cope would make him doubt himself, damage his self esteem.

Nick had asked for help in dealing with the things that still terrified him. He hadn’t asked for help now. Everett shook his head and David looked exasperated.

Everett said, “If he wants to leave, he knows he can do that. I trust him to know his limits, David. You should trust he knows what he can handle and what he can’t.”

“You really think he’s got good enough insight and judgment about himself to know when he’s in trouble?” David shook his head as if to emphasize his point. “Because I don’t. He needs a keeper, Everett. I thought you could handle that job, but I’m wondering now. Oh, he puts up a good front, I’ll give him that. But I see through it. He needs a firm hand, or his bent for self destruction will destroy him in the end. I don’t want to see that happen.”

Everett frowned up at David, something about the way David had phrased things was disturbing. He was silent for a few moments, thinking it over.

“I don’t think he needs a keeper,” Everett said finally. “I’ve got things to do here. Why don’t you start writing out the report on all of this, and I’ll sign off on it. You can go back to Earth when this is over, report to O’Neill.”

David knew a dismissal when he heard one and he thankfully dropped the subject of Dr. Nicholas Rush.

Everett rejoined Nick, who’d been sitting quietly on a gurney, staying out of T.J.’s and James’ way. Nick subtly brushed his fingers over Everett’s hand, a ghost presence, but Everett felt some of the tension leave him.

David was wrong, he decided. Nick didn’t need a keeper – well, most of the time -- but he could use a partner. Partners could suggest things to each other, leaving the decision to the one who owned the problem. Partners supported each other. A keeper didn’t want or need support from the one he was looking after. Partners acted as adults to each other. Talking, sharing, maybe taking turns reminding the other one about things like taking medicine or keeping appointments. To him, a keeper was acting like a parent to a child. Maybe there were good reasons for two adults to have that kind of relationship. Maybe one of them was incapable of taking care of himself. There were people who went to court to become some one’s guardian, making that person legally back into a child. It had happened in his own family, his grandfather had had a stroke and it had affected his brain so badly he couldn’t even remember his own name for a long time. His mother had become her father’s conservator. Maybe if somebody didn’t want to make his or her own decisions, they ceded that control over to someone who did want that job.

Nick wasn’t like that. Yeah, he’d made some pretty spectacularly bad decisions in the past, but he’d learned from them. Maybe David was right when he’d pointed out that Nick was probably the most traumatized of all the crew members, but even when he’d been under the Lucian’s thumb, he’d still found a way to save them and give them the ship again.

He couldn’t see Nick willingly give up control of his own actions to anybody else. Hell, he still only had the vaguest idea of how the military worked and what the chain of command meant. He was capable of learning it, he just wasn’t very interested. If he had a better understanding, he’d have known that O’Neill hadn’t meant for him to take control of the ship when the General had said for him to get those people home. Thank God Scott had stepped up and took charge of the situation or Nick might have found himself lynched.

So they sat there, quietly on this death watch, together, until it was over. Nick laid a hand on his arm, a question in his eyes. He nodded, and satisfied with that answer. Nick went off for another look at the shuttle and to review the data the ship had gathered about the planet they’d left these poor souls on months ago on an entirely different galaxy.

* * *

Nick and Park had found a nice planet to hold the funeral ceremony, although Nick opted out of actually attending it. Everett had spoken a few words, other people had given eulogies for their shipmates, who had died twice. Mathew had led prayers for those so inclined to participate. The bodies were atomized by activating the stargate, then people had milled about, talking to each other for a while before breaking into work groups to gather food.

You couldn’t lead a SGC team and not be aware of the odd ways of the universe, and this episode was among the oddest of the oddest. He and David had exchanged a whole conversation acknowledging this when they gave each other nods of understanding before David took charge of a work group and headed to a wooded area.

There was thirty-six hours on the clock, and this was a nice planet. Warm, breezy, and the air smelled fresh; there were fruit and nut type trees fairly close to the gate. With Ginn and Eli’s wedding coming up, they could have something more for them than the usual skimpy rations.

TJ had brought Carmen down, to let her experience nature and a limited amount of sunshine. T.J. was staying close to the gate, in case things went wrong, but the baby was enjoying rolling around on a blanket, under a make shift shelter. He stopped to pick her up and toss her in the air, enjoying her excited squeals, before giving her back to T.J. She started to fuss when he left, which gave him conflicted feelings; not liking to hear her be upset, but gratified that she missed him when he was gone. T.J. had her waving bye-bye, then sat down to nurse her.

Greer was advocating for a bar-b-que, but their kinos hadn’t spotted any likely looking animals yet. He had an idea about that.

He wanted to talk to Nick, too. Before he had died Caine had said to tell Dr. Rush he was sorry for what happened in the Mess. He hadn’t brought it up that night to Nick. Since then he’d overheard a couple of people gossiping about that encounter and he wanted to check in with Nick, see if he was okay.

He radioed for Greer, James, Dunning, and Becker to meet him at the gate. They’d get more supplies from the ship, and he’d get Nick to join them on a hunting party.

The shuttle could be taken out for a test spin, since Destiny was within easy range of the planet. Nick wanted to learn how to fly it, and he thought Greer and James also would be good candidates for pilot training.

David was left in charge of the food gathering and Matthew would have the Bridge. When they returned to Destiny, he’d send Greer and the others down to the Armory and he’d go find their Chief Scientist.

* * *

 

Nick looks up from the console where he’s standing, awkwardly rubbing at his shoulder muscle. Now that was a clear sign he needed a break.

“Hey, genius. Want to fly the shuttle?”

Nick grins like a kid being handed the keys to an older brother’s souped up muscle car. “I do,” he says. “I’m quite familiar with the systems already.”

“Yeah, I think you’ll do fine. You certainly figured out that Nakai scout ship fast enough when you flew Chloe and you back to us.”

“Well, yes, but to be fair I got a jump start on that from that Nakai I interrogated with their device.” Nick touches the side of his head and cocks an eyebrow.

Everett had only been able to stand it a few moments. To get the information he needed, Nick would have had it on for far longer. He can only admire the other man’s force of will.

“I know, tough guy. So, here’s the plan.” He explains about the combination hunting trip and flying lessons.

Nick nods approvingly. “Let’s go, then.” He slides down from the tall stool he’s perched on and heads for the door.

Everett holds up a hand and Nick stops, giving him an inquiring look. “What happened in the Mess the other night? Caine apologized, asked me to tell you, so what went on? It’s making the rounds of the crew, too.”

Nick sighs. “Nothing really.”

He waits and after a few moments of silence Nick runs a hand through his already tousled hair. “Yes, well, it really wasn’t much. I, ah, was in there, um, practicing how to cope without you being there, and Caine decided to have a philosophical discussion with me. You can guess how that went. Then he said. . .” Nick stops, wraps his arms around his chest, looks at the ground. “He said he knew I’d been tortured and raped right there in the Mess – brought his religious beliefs into it -- connecting that with how we’ve done much better with getting along, and I started to flash back.”

He steps closer to Nick, puts a hand on his arm. Nick looks up at him, shrugs.

“I, uh, actually I had, well, for a while I was sure I was still on the table, and I had only imagined being freed. Killing the Lucians and becoming friends with you? It suddenly seemed impossible for that to have happened. You and me? Friends? And how could Caine be there when we’d left him and the others with a shuttle that couldn’t fly and in another galaxy? Then David, um, Colonel Telford, stepped in and got me to calm down again. I’d told him before of our strategy of using math to stop panic attacks. He asked me to give him examples of circular primes, and I was all right.”

He fights down feelings of annoyance that David had done his job for him, then tells himself that it’s good that Nick has more than one person looking out for him. He’s surprised that David knows anything about prime numbers other than the basics, although he has always enjoyed talking to the scientists at the SGC. Guess he’d picked up a few things in the way of higher math.

Nick is watching him, and Everett can read his body language pretty well these days. Something about what happened is bugging him.

“Were you all right? The people watching you said he got pretty touchy-feely, and you didn’t stop him. They thought that was out of character, and when you left with him, you seemed to be dazed.”

Nick is silent for a time. Everett’s learned to let him have time to figure things out. He’s fast at spitting out facts and numbers, but for human interactions, he needs to think about it for a while.

“I talked to him about it later. He was only trying to help ground me, I think.” Nick’s not looking him in the eyes. There’s more to this story, but it falls under Nick’s private life. He’s not going to grill him over it.

“You know you can talk to me about any issues you’re having.” He squeezes Nick’s arm and let him go. “And you’re wrong that it seemed impossible for us to become friends. Maybe we got there faster because of helping each other out, but I believe we would still have ended up where we are now.”

Nick looks at him a little skeptically.

Laughing, Everett says, “Might have taken another ten years, but we would have gotten to know each other and get over ourselves. Eventually.”

Nick covers his mouth with a hand, but it doesn’t hide the grin that he’s sporting. Everett feels a wave of fondness rise up for this man, his friend. Maybe someday someone more than a friend. His groin sends his brain an “I’m seriously interested in this idea,” message but he tells his libido to cool it. Nothing’s gonna happen while he’s still acting as Nick’s practice partner to deal with his aversion to being in the Mess. When Nick’s ready to cash in his raincheck – if he still wants to be lovers – he’ll let Everett know.

Sex would be dessert, sure, but the meat and potatoes solid basis of their friendship is what’s really important.

He can postpone dessert, or even give it up if it comes to that.

He’s hoping that someday dessert will be on the menu.

His smiling is making Nick raise an eyebrow. “And just what are you thinking about, then?”

“Dessert,” he says truthfully. “But right now, we’ve got to concentrate on what’s important for now.”

“Replenishing our supplies of protein and vegetables,” Nick throws out. “Yes, I’m aware. I thought we were on our way to do just that. Are you done with day dreaming, then, Colonel?”

“I like to think there’s always a place for dreams,” he says and enjoys the eyeroll Nick gifts him with, along with a tolerant exasperated expression.

His own expression turns serious. He says, “The food gathering and now this hunting trip hopefully will take people’s minds off the recent deaths.”

Truthfully, he thinks that mostly the crew had mourned the Eden settlers’ loss a long time ago, when they had decided to stay on that planet. Still, their passing on Destiny was eerie. Food gathering expeditions would help take their minds off it.

He points a thumb towards the door. “So, let’s hit it. The BDU’s are all being worn, you’ll have to go in what you’re wearing.” Nick grabs his jacket, put doesn’t put it on. Everett wonders if he should tell him to remove the patch that says, ‘Young’ on it, but decides it doesn’t matter. It’s not like anyone will think Nick is him, after all.

One of the military has given Nick a black T-shirt. It’s big on him and he’s rolled up the sleeves. It reminds him of something else he needed to check in with Nick about.

“Hey, where are we at with the manufactory and our new duds?”

Nick gives him a pleased look. “It’s coming along fine, Mr. Brody and Dr. Inman have started printing out simple things. It’s likely some clothing will need some tailoring, but they’re well satisfied with it. Dr. Inman has been gang pressing people right and left for clothes to use as patterns.”

So that’s where Nick’s own shirt had gone.

“So, ever do any hunting?” Everett questions as they stride down the corridor to the shuttle bay

* * *

His three pilot candidates all get in flying time around the planet, but Everett takes over when they begin the actual hunting. They skim over the fields low enough to spook some herd animals and observe where they are heading, and speed ahead. He drops off Greer, Nick, James, Dunning, and Becker with their rifles, while he circles around and herds the animals – bigger than deer, smaller than an elk, with long bodies and eight legs --straight to the others. They aren’t in danger of getting run over; Nick is actually up a large sturdy tree and the others are sheltering behind huge boulders.

He parks the shuttle near where the animals have been slaughtered. They’d shot thirty-three. Even if they weren’t edible, their skins could be used for clothing, belts, and probably other uses.

He opens the back of the shuttle, and James and Becker enter and leave with the kino sleds they’d brought.

Becker had grown up on a farm, but he’s pretty sure the rest of this group had all been city kids. He knew the military members of this hunting party had had survival training, but he didn’t know if Nick knew anything about skinning, butchering, or smoking their kills. He did. He’d gone hunting with his father and uncles, cousins.

Nick was busy testing samples of the meat with a hand held analyzer they’d found on Destiny. “We should be fine,” he says, when Everett walks up to him. “This report reads that the Ancients could eat these animals with no problems. Still, we’ll have to be careful about any allergic reactions.”

There’s a satisfied, drawn out vocalization from Greer. Everett turns to see him chewing, a lighter in his hand. Nick rolls his eyes. “Well, apparently Sergeant Greer is no allergic. That’s the third small slice he’s eaten. I would advise that the meat be cooked very thoroughly, because of the danger of parasites.”

“Agreed,” Everett says, fighting down a smile about Greer. “Anybody here have experience with butchering?” Becker raises his hand. “Okay, then, Becker, you’re in charge. Explain what they need to do. There’s rope in the shuttle for hanging the carcasses, hooks, extra knives. Dr. Rush and I are going to get firewood and we’ll make smoking racks. We’ll dry some of this meat, and take a good bit back up to Destiny for refrigeration.”

Nick looks at the carcasses and then looks at Dunning and Becker. Quietly, so only Everett can hear him, he says, “Aye, I see now why you included those lads. Even with the kino sleds, moving them will be quite the chore.”

“Yep. I didn’t make Colonel based on my good looks,” he says, and is rewarded with the exasperated look Nick throws him.

He grins at him. “C’mon, hot shot. We’ve got our own chore list to get done.”

* * *

Nick declares himself in charge of the smoking fires and bans Greer from the vicinity, since he kept adding wood to make the fire larger.

“Ah, c’mon, Doc,” he overhears Greer say, after Nick had scolded him. “How often do we get to have a campfire?”

“And do you want your jerky edible, or do you want to eat charcoal for your dinner?” Nick replies. “No, the ban stands. Colonel Young,” Nick calls, and he joins them. “Sergeant Greer wants to engage his inner fire bug. I’m concerned that our kills may draw other predators. Perhaps you could find something useful for him to do that addresses both these concerns before you fly the shuttle back to Destiny with the first load of meat?”

It’s Greer who rolls his eyes this time. “Really, Doc? You couldn’t just say that I should set up guard fires around our perimeter?”

“Exactly what I just said,” Nick replies, and uses the bottom of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

Everett fights down a laugh. “I was going to order that anyway. Greer, indulge away and you’re in charge. I’m taking James with me for another flying lesson.”

“Yes, sir.” Greer says, and snaps off a salute. Behind him, Nick rolls his eyes again. Everett’s aware of his opinion on saluting. He ignores him. They’re in the military, for crying out loud. He returns Greer’s salute and after the man has started carrying wood out to the edge of this temporary camp, he moves closer to Nick. “How’s it going?” he asks.

“Fine, now that Greer’s away. He couldn’t resist building up the fire.” He ladles on a little of a salty solution onto the strips of meat hanging over the low fire. “The key, obviously, is a controlled temperature, and the right amount of green material for the smoke. I rather like what you found for us. It smells like sage and thyme combined.” Nick stands up and arches his back, stretching.

Everett elbows him. “Hey, have you been holding out on us? You know how to cook?”

“Yes. And no.” He arches his eyebrows at Everett, looking pleased with his answer.

“I swear, you enjoy being difficult. So, what was that? Yes, you know how to cook, and no, you haven’t been holding out on us?” Everett is about two seconds away from rolling his own eyes.

“Precisely. You never asked before if I could cook, to my recollection. I’ve far more important things to do on Destiny than try to bring some flavor to the usual rations.”

“Someday, we’re going to sit down and you’re going to tell me every skill you have, Doctor Rush,” he grumbles.

“Best bring some refreshments, then, We’ll be at it for quite some time.” Nick shoots him a sly grin.

“Show off,” he says, and elbows him again.

“Away wi’ ye, Colonel,” Nick says, still grinning. “Lieutenant James is waving at us. She seems quite eager for that second flying lesson you’ve promised her.”

“Yeah. You need anything from Destiny?”

Nick thinks about it. “Perhaps some blankets? Containers to store the jerky, and a bit more of our salt. We’ll be doing this till it’s time for Destiny to go back into FTL. I’ll stay here the night.”

“I’ll get what you need. If you think of something else, radio David. He can get in touch through the stargate. I’ll be back. Greer’s not the only one who enjoys a good campfire.”

“Can’t say that I’ve spent much time around one,” Nick says.

“Well, there’s nothing like it. Stars above, night sounds of the out doors, sitting with good friends, sharing a bottle of whiskey between us.” He suddenly misses Earth, seeing the familiar constellations.

“Well, then, perhaps you might liberate a small bottle of Mr. Brody’s finest to bring back.” Nick grins at him. “If I’m to have the campfire experience, I insist on the entire agenda.”

* * *

When he returns to the ship, he gets a message that Chloe is asking to see him.

He knocks on her door before quietly opening the door. Chloe stands at the window, staring out into space.

“Chloe,” he says, and he can see her square her shoulders. She turns and her eyes are wide, and she brings her chin up.

“Colonel Young, I’d like to be put off the ship now, on this planet. Matthew says it’s nice. If you can spare it, I would appreciate a gun and a few bullets. When they come for me, I won’t be taken alive.”

She looks at him and says, “It’s all right if you can’t spare a gun. If I could have a knife, though?”

He swallows hard, nausea rising as this brave girl, who through no fault of her own has become a liability for their safety, bargains for weapons to kill herself.

“Requests denied,” he says, falling back on his military language. Then he crosses to her and pulls her into his arms for a hug. “I won’t lie and say I’ll never order you off the ship. But not today. Not tomorrow. We aren’t to that point, Chloe. We’re still researching ways to help you.”

“I can’t live out the rest of my life in this room, Colonel,” she says into his neck. “I’m too dangerous to let move around the ship freely. I could overpower a guard, I think. I’m, I’m stronger than I was. Please. I couldn’t bear it if Matthew or Dr. Rush or you or any of the crew died because of me. They want me back, I know they do. I’m their recorder. Dr. Rush was their original transmitter, but I think they went with a mechanical device because mine, an organic one, would take time to grow. With all the other changes that are apparent now, what if my brain is transmitting our location to them? Or if not yet, then it probably will soon.”

There’s a lump in his throat but he pushes it down. She doesn’t want his tears. Sternly, he says, “I will not abandon a crew member on the possibility she may be compromised. Other options may exist to deal with what’s happened. I’m sorry that you’re stuck in here, but we’ll figure something out, Chloe. Trust me on that.”

Now the tears flow, but from Chloe’s eyes. “Dr. Rush says that to me, too.”

Wryly, he says as he pulls her in for another hug. “Well, if Nick and I both agree, then you can take it to the bank. And I promise, you’ll be there for Eli’s wedding.”

She pulls back so she can stare into his eyes. Her own look shocked and hopeful. “Do you mean that? Please, please don’t say that to me if it isn’t true.”

“Oh, we’ll have a security detail with you. Maybe armed with sleep darts, or something similar. I’ll put Nick and the Science Team on it.” He gently releases her. “I’ve got to go back down to the planet.”

She nods, wraps her arms around herself. “Are you staying the night? Wait. Is it night down there?”

“It’s almost dusk,” he says softly. “We’re gonna have a campfire.”

“You and Dr. Rush?” she’s managed to put a slightly mischievous tone to that question.

“Amongst others, yeah. He’s drying jerky. I’m going to keep Greer from swiping it.”

She smiles, and it’s a little sad, a little knowing. “You’ve become good friends? That’s the impression I get from Dr. Rush. I’m glad, you know?”

“Yeah, we’re friends. I’d like to think we’re good ones now. Not something I would have ever believed when we first met at Icarus or when we got tossed here.” He moves to the door but stops when Chloe calls his name.

“I just want to ask you for two things, please.”

God, he hopes she’s not going to ask him to kill her or to let her kill herself. Not again.

“I think it’s more than friendship he feels for you. So, when the time’s right, if you feel the same way? Kiss him. Kiss him like you never want to see him hurt or in pain and he’s the best, the most precious thing in your life. That’s how Matt kisses me.”

What’s he supposed to say to that? So he says nothing, just nods. She smiles at him and suddenly words escape him. “I’ll see it done. I promise, all right.”

“And if you see a falling star tonight, make a wish for me.”

He nods again, and bangs on the door.

* * *

Everett tries his hardest to shake off the defeated, cheerless mood that had engulfed him after his visit with Chloe. He says all the right things to Greer, to Becker and the rest of the soldiers who are tending fires or standing watch. He passes out claps on the back and teasing questions, approves of how the jerky has turned out and hands his supplies off to his chief scientist turned outdoor chef.

He sets up their bedrolls and takes a pull of Brody’s booze before handing it to Nick, who’s crouched before the small fire, turning over strips of meat. He’s not said one word or let his tone of voice show that he feels like shit right now.

Nick picks up on it anyway. He looks up at Everett, one hand swiping his hair out of his eyes. “What happened, Colonel?”

“What do you mean?” Everett stalls, but Nick is eyeing him with that laser focused expression of his, his eyebrows raised.

Nick stands then, and takes him by the elbow, tows him to the bedrolls and tugs him down to sit with him, close enough to watch the glow of the coals, smell the fragrant smoke.

He passes the metal flask back to Everett and their fingers brush. “If you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong, I won’t press,” he says. “But you should find someone to talk to about it. Maybe Lieutenant Johanson, or Camile?”

“It’s Chloe,” he says abruptly. “She’s asking to be put off the ship. She’s breaking my god damned heart, Nick.”

His hand is taken into a hard grip, callused fingers against his own. A mathematician with the hands of a mechanic. It suits Nick, he thinks. The practical and the intellectual, devising algorithms and replacing broken conduit, as handy with chalk and computer systems as with a wrench. Or a screwdriver, he thinks, and in this mood his heart also breaks for what Nick has had to do with the small screwdriver he hides in the jacket that’s too big for his frame.

“I won’t let it come to tha’” Nick says, voice low and determined. “We won’t, Colonel.”

“She’s afraid she may be transmitting our position to those bastards. I’m afraid she might be right.”

“Well, I doubt she could do that if she was in stasis. If we’ve not found a way to change her back, and they turn up again, we’ll keep her safe and asleep until we do find a way.”

“Nice idea, genius, but you forgot we don’t have any stasis chambers.” He should pull his hand free from Nick’s grasp before things get awkward, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to. So what? he tells himself. It’s just the two of them and he’s feeling his black mood lifting.

“Oh, no?” Nick says it with a smirk, and once Everett would have had to fight against the urge to smash that expression off Nick’s face, but now he’s fighting against the impulse to pull him close and kiss it away.

“Okay, what? Have you found stasis chambers and ‘forgot’ to tell me and your team about them?” Once he’d have been flaming angry that Rush had kept things from him, but he’s over that. It’s just the way Nick is, and he’s accepted that about him. He’ll always eventually tell him what he discovers. Let him have his fun first.

“I’ve not found them. . . yet. I’m sure the Ancients did put them on Destiny. It’s the way they think, the way they create. They build redundancies into every bit of their systems. Atlantis has stasis pods, the other Ancient ships that that have been discovered have them.”

He squeezes Everett’s hand and lets go. Everett stifles an impulse to grab it back. Any physical contact between them needs to be on Nick’s terms. He knows that. He tells himself to remember it. “We have them, Colonel. I just don’t know where yet. But I think Destiny will be more willing to tell me, now that we’ve showed her we’re advanced enough to understand her mission.”

“Better get right on that,” he says, and feels much better.

“Aye, sir,” Nick says, and gives him a sloppy salute. He’s teasing him, and he’s so tempted to tackle him and roll him around and then kiss him senseless.

Instead he elbows Nick and says, failing to keep the laugh out of his voice, “Smart ass. I’ve figured out why you’re so fast at running, you know. It’s a survival skill you learned from mouthing off to people.”

Nick chuckles, looking away for a moment, and in the low light of the fire Everett can see how his eyes have lit up with mirth, and how he can’t keep the grin off his face.

Everett realizes that he wants to keep seeing that look on Nick’s face. He wants to wake up to it, he wants to go to sleep with Nick tucked up against him, warm and safe. He wants to argue with him over pointless things and have him at his back when once again they and the ship are in danger. He wants to watch him play with Carmen, and sing songs to her with words he can’t understand.

He wants to make love to him, to watch him orgasm and relax, cuddle him despite any halfhearted protests.

He can’t have any of this. Not now, not when Nick is still working so hard to move on from torture and rape. What he wants from Nick is not what Nick needs. He needs Everett to be a friend, not a lover.

Everett’s been selfish at times. He knows this about himself. His relationship with T.J. was selfish and self indulgent, and he hurt her and Emily. He regrets – but not about Carmen, though, he’s blessed to have his daughter – having given in to the loneliness and need for comfort back on Icarus. But maybe he’s learned something from what happened between him, Emily, and T.J. No, there’s no maybe about it. He’s learned to rein in what he wants, if it’s going to damage someone else.

Nick gave him a raincheck on going from friends to lovers. He’s aware that Everett’s open to that. He’s not ready, though. Time for Everett to show some self control and patience.

He takes a swig of booze and punches Nick in the shoulder lightly. Nick takes the bottle from him and takes a deep pull of his own, passes it back.

It’s nice sitting here, the campfire, the stars, the woodland sounds. He smothers a laugh when he spies Greer cautiously belly crawling toward the smoking fire. He could call him out on trying to steal more jerky, especially since Nick would probably just give him more if he asked.

He’s not going to alert Nick. Partly, he’s curious about how much Nick is actually paying attention to his surroundings and partly because of the entertainment value Nick catching Greer will provide, if he does see him.

Suddenly Nick’s on his feet, and actually jumps over the fire and the racks to reach down and pull Greer to his feet. Nick has to look up at him but that doesn’t stop him from telling Greer he’s daft and that he hopes whatever this planet’s equivalent of chiggers is has made a nice meal of Greer’s skin. Greer shoots Everett a sheepish look, as Nick grabs a container of dried meat and thrusts it at Greer.

Everett waves him off and Greer grins at him and lopes back to his own fire. Nick fusses for a while with his racks, rearranging the meat strips, then checks the other small fires he has going, all them for drying meat.

“Nice job, Jack be nimble,” he says as Nick joins him again on the bedroll. He takes another swig of the booze and passes the rest to Nick, who in exchange hands him some of the jerky. It’s good, and he tells Nick that as he contentedly eats it.

Nick laughs before downing the rest of Brody’s moonshine. They sit companionably for a while, and Everett’s eyes grow heavy.

“Go to sleep, Everett,” Nick says. “It’s safe.”

“What about you?” he asks.

“I’ll sleep back on Destiny. I’ve work to do here.” Nick gets up and pokes at the drying strips, pops one in his mouth, nods to himself, and stays busy taking the dried meat off the racks and packing it away and hanging fresh strips. He pokes at the various fires, adding a few small sticks and watching them add a little brightness to the coals before laying more of the green foliage they’d found on top, the fragrant smoke wafting upwards.

Everett lays down on his side and watches Nick move gracefully around their little campsite. His eyes close and he drifts off. Once, he wakes up to feel fingers smoothing his hair and Nick next to him. He doesn’t let on that he’s awake. This is nice, what Nick’s doing. He’ll take whatever Nick is willing to give and falls back asleep, feeling hopeful and content.

* * *

Notes:

Next chapter will be in Everett's POV. Originally, this chapter and the next were intended to be one. I decided it would work better as two.

Chapter 30: A Joyous Time

Eli’s and Ginn’s wedding is heartwarming. The two of them are so obviously happy and smitten with each other, and Dr. Inman has does wonders with Ginn’s dress. It’s a dark blue, traditional color for the bride from her home village, and sets off her red hair nicely. It’s shin length and kind of floaty. T.J. has helped with the sewing, and she’s embroidered flowers and vines over the bodice. T.J.’s dad, who she had adored, had been a tailor, and she’d told him back on Icarus how he’d taught her to stitch and sew.

Ginn looks like a bride should, radiant and confident and shining with hope, her hair braided and pinned up with white flowers. Eli looks handsome, his own clothes brand new, too. He’s wearing a long sleeve brilliant white cottony type shirt and a smart looking blue vest the same shade as Ginn’s dress, and black trousers.

The rest of the crew also are mostly sporting at least one new item of clothing. The 3-D printer in the manufactory has been working overtime. Camile is wearing a pretty green dress that shimmers. Nick was given a new off white shirt and black trousers similar to Eli’s. To Everett’s eyes, they look a little bit like the uniform trousers from Star Trek. Nick’s and Eli’s shirts, though are more traditional looking button downs, but without any pockets on the shirt front.

Eli’s nervous. The kid’s a hugger and so Everett gives him a strong one while they wait in the corridor, then Eli talks quietly to his mother, Maryann. Camile had twisted a few arms back on Earth and the IOA had given in and allowed Maryann Wallace to use the stones. Ginn and Nick and Camile had slipped out of sight while most of the ship’s crew had straggled inside the room, to sit on the benches and chairs that had been dragged in from all over the ship.

David volunteered to man the Bridge, but they’ve set up a kino feed so he can watch the ceremony, too.

When they hear the music that’s their cue, Everett and Maryann, who had switched with Corporal Barnes, link arms with Eli and escort him into the observation deck first. It’s decked out nicely with flowers from the planet. The entire wedding party is wearing corsages. Turns out James had done a stint in a flower shop as a teen and had volunteered her skills.

T.J. is there, her back to the window where the lights shimmer in ever changing colors. She’s in a new replicated uniform. Everett’s wearing one, too. T.J. plans on changing into some party clothes later, for the shindig in the Mess, but she thought being in uniform would convey more seriousness to the ceremony. He thinks she’s right, but the blue and lavender flowers in her blond hair are nice, too. Carmen is currently asleep and being held by Dr. Inman. Everett has his fingers crossed that the baby will sleep through the ceremony. He’s under no illusions that when she spots her mother, she’ll stay quietly on Dr. Inman’s lap. No, she’ll insist that T.J. hold her. Loudly.

Ginn and Nick and Camile appear at the door and Nick shoots him a grin. Linking arms together, he and Camile escort Ginn to face Eli. Nick gives Ginn a kiss on the cheek and stands there next to her, with Camile on her other side.

T.J. begins the ceremony and after she asks who stands with Eli, and who stands with Ginn, and they all affirm they do, Maryann, Camile, Everett, and Nick sit down, a front row being reserved for them.

Chloe is sitting with Matt, with Greer on her other side. She’s holding Matt’s hand and looks torn between crying and smiling. There are six military behind them. They’re equipped with syringes that should bring her down without hurting her.

At least Carmen sleeps through most of the ceremony. It’s after several talented crew members have sung ‘In My Life’ that Carmen wakes up and starts bellowing for her mother. T.J. looks to him and he shrugs, plucks her from Dr. Inman, and carries her up to T.J. The baby is indignant for a few more moments, but then settles down, and starts pulling at the front of her uniform.

Jiggling Carmen, T.J. ends the ceremony with the handfasting, winding a cloth around both Ginn’s and Eli’s wrists and having them say their vows. After they kiss and the cloth reclaimed, Ginn and Eli walk down the temporary main aisle and the crew stands and showers them with flower petals.

A few mischievous people also shower Camile, Nick and him and Eli’s mom, with flower petals when they follow Eli and Ginn out the door.

Ginn and Eli disappear, which was planned. They’ve got new quarters, larger than their old ones, although Eli is claiming the kino room as a work shop.

Eli’s got something up his sleeve, he’s pretty sure. The party is scheduled in an hour, and a lot of the crew hurry past the three of them to help get things ready. The Mess is already decorated, but Becker can use help with getting the generous meal ready to be dished up. Brody and Volker are probably checking out the sound system again. There’s been a lot of semi-secret planning about the music mix. Everett just knows some sort of surprise about it is going to be sprung. He’s pretty sure Eli’s in on it, too, from the guilty looks he’s surprised from the Science Team when he walked in earlier today to check out the preparations. Brody had shut the music off immediately, and gave him a weak, “Hey, Colonel.”

He’d just shook his head and left them to it.

T.J comes up to them and spirits Maryann away for a private drink in her quarters with James and Park and Camile. Carmen needs to nurse anyway.

He looks at Nick. “My quarters? A pre-party drink?”

Nick steps close and plucks bright purple flower petals from Everett’s hair. “Aye, Everett. That sounds brilliant. I’ve something to tell you, as well.”

* * *

Everett hands Nick a drink and motions to the small couches that comprise his make shift living room. Still, it’s more than most people have in their quarters.

Nick sits down and Everett sits across from him, the coffee table between them. “So,” Everett says, taking off his corsage and trying to ignore the colorful flower petals that Nick has missed flicking away from his own shaggy brown hair, “What did you give Eli and Ginn?”

The crew has come up with small gifts for the couple. Everett had contributed his wedding ring, which was melted down and recast into two matching smaller bands that Eli and Ginn had exchanged during the ceremony.

“I let Eli copy my Ipod. He’s been after it for quite some time.” Nick rolls his eyes, but his heart isn’t in it, Everett can tell. “For Ginn, I made a bracelet. One for Eli, too.”

‘Yeah?” He watches Nick fidget a little, unpin his own corsage. “What does it look like?”

“Leather and wood. Um, I whittled the symbol for infinity and the laces attach to it. On Ginn’s world, it’s a symbol for marriage, of two becoming one as well as standing for infinity. Rather similar to some Earth beliefs, possibly carried along with her ancestors when the G’oauld captured them.”

“Sounds perfect for those two. Mathematics and love.” He takes a sip of the moonshine. “Have you given the bracelets to them yet?”

“No. I will at the reception, party, what ever they’re calling it.”

“You decided to go?” Nick had wanted to attend, but Everett knew he had major reservations about whether he could make it happen. When he’d been on the table, Kiva had forced the crew to watch him be raped and tortured three times a day while they tried to eat. He doesn’t think Nick’s been in the Mess when it’s been jam packed with crew members since then.

“Yes. That’s what I wanted to tell you.” Nick takes a deep breath and his eyes lock onto Everett’s; they’re so dark and mesmerizing and vulnerable. He says, “And Everett, I want to thank you for helping me. It’s meant a lot to me. Hopefully, this is graduation day, and I won’t need you to sit with me and hold my hand when I start to panic.”

He smiles at Nick, hoping he can convey confidence in him. “Okay. I’m sure you’ll be all right. You’ve been pulling yourself out when things go sideways, for the most part anyways. I’ll miss eating with you, though.”

“Well. Um, we don’t have to stop that. I’ve enjoyed playing chess and sharing meals with you.”

“Good. How about a chess game tomorrow at 1800 in the Mess?”

“Fine.” Nick isn’t looking at him, finding his mug of booze more interesting and his cheeks have flushed. Interesting. He’d like to ask him if they just made a date, but decides not to push it.

“So,” he says, deciding to distract Nick from any second thoughts he might be having. “I’m betting Eli’s up to something for this party. Any ideas what?”

* * *

Brody’s voice on the intercom interrupts Nick’s retelling of how Eli was recruited to the SGC, pajamas and all.

“Yeah, hello crew,” Brody says, “Just a heads up. When the music starts, everybody should head for the Mess and form lines in the corridor outside it and wait for Mr. and Mrs. Wallace. This is gonna be one epic party on Destiny.”

The sounds of deep chanting and violin playing explode then and Nick looks startled, then intrigued. He stands and Everett does like wise.

“Did Ginn take Eli’s name?”

Nick shrugs. “I believe it was discussed but I didn’t pay attention to what was decided.” He turns and strides for the door. “This music is clever. The violin player is talented.”

It sounds like gibberish to Everett. “It’s not English.”

Nick waits at the door for him and rolls his eyes. “No, it’s not. Obviously. I’m quite sure we’ll be enlightened about it later.” He taps his foot impatiently while Everett redons the uniform jacket he’d placed on the end of the couch earlier.

They walk down the corridor to the music rising and falling. When they reach a cross corridor, it changes into a different song, one that he knows he’s heard before. It’s still got vocals, but no words and a violin is still playing. He listens for a while, and when the medley changes he figures it out and starts laughing.

Nick looks at him, and his eyes crinkle up with amusement. “So, you’ve recognized it, have you?”

He laughs so hard, he has to pause and double over for a moment, till he can make himself stop. “Yeah,” he gasps. “But I’m surprised you know it. Don’t you hate all that stuff that Eli loves? The movies, the video games?”

“I’m no inclined to waste my time with it, but even I can’t escape knowing the theme music to Star Wars.” Nick puts his hands on his hips. “We’d best hurry. All this has the feel of building up to a grand entrance, and Eli would be crushed if we miss it.”

They jog along and Lisa shoos them along to the head of the line that’s formed, with T.J. and Carmen, Camile, and Eli’s mom. Maryann’s smile is sweet, and a little disconcerting, since he’s never seen anything remotely like it on Corporal Barnes face.

The music changes once again, to something more poignant, a violin soaring. The crew are spaced so that they’re arm’s length away from each other, on both sides of the corridor, and James and Dr. Inman are passing out handfuls of flower petals to everyone.

Eli and Ginn appear and are showered by petals, as the music rises and falls, and they move down the corridor. He bites his lip to keep from falling back into another laughing fit. Somehow, what Eli’s done is perfect.

He turns and looks at Nick, who is busy rolling his eyes but is also grinning.

Eli and Ginn float down the corridor on a bastardized kino sled, only this looks more like a wide surfboard, or the bow of ship, since it has rails. Ribbons of cloth trail from it and bouquets of flowers adorn the thing. They’re floating about three feet above the deck, Ginn in front of Eli. Eli has one arm around her waist, the other hand resting on the controls.

Both are smiling and this is a good day on Destiny. He’s going to cherish it. When they pass him, he showers them with the petals as the music comes to a graceful end.

The kino bridal barge comes to a halt in front of the doors to the Mess and Eli turns it around. Everybody claps or whistles until Eli holds up a hand.

“Thank you, everybody,” he says. “Becker’s outdone himself and we’re going to dance till our shoes wear out. Not that it wouldn’t take long for most of our footwear to fall apart, but thanks to the manufactory Dr. Rush and Colonel Everett found, we’ll get new gear, so I say dance holes in your soles.”

Eli turns to Ginn, who grasps Eli’s hand. “I, too, wish to say thank you, for helping us celebrate and for accepting me. I am honored to be part of Destiny’s crew.”

Eli asks him and Nick to open the doors to the sound of cheers. Once open, Ginn and Eli float inside, the music this time lively and amusing. The crew fall in behind them, smiling and laughing, as they stream into the Mess. Once everybody is inside, Everett steps close to Nick.

“Ready, genius?”

Nick takes a deep breath and nods, then strides into the room, like an old time gunslinger entering a saloon, his body language communicating that nobody better try messing with him.

Everett follows and roams the Mess. The place has been decorated with flowers on the tables that are now at the edges of the room, leaving a wide space open in the middle of the room for dancing, and they’ve done something with extra sheets, draping them like bunting and table cloths. He talks to his crew and accepts a drink and samples the pre-dinner snacks that are pressed upon him.

It’s a fine party. There’s instrumental soft music, some of it the kind of new age stuff Emily had enjoyed, some sounds like folk music without any words; the lighting is dimmed with muted colored lights softly changing hues. He keeps an eye on Nick, who makes his way to where Ginn and Eli are thanking people, or hugging them or exclaiming over small gifts that are handed to them.

He joins Nick as Eli shakes Matthew’s hand and then pulls Chloe into a long hug. The six guards are there, watching her. He’s proud of them, because they are all volunteers.

Matthew and Chloe step out onto the dance area. It’s a fast tune and Everett feels bitter-sweet watching them move to the music. Even if Nick finds stasis chambers, it will mean these two will be apart, maybe for years, until they find a way to change Chloe back. He won’t give that order until he has to, when they have no other options that they can make work.

He turns his attention back to Nick, who rather diffidently thrusts a small package wrapped up in a bit of cloth into Eli’s hands. He turns then, eyes on the doorway, and looks like he’s going to make a break for it, but Ginn puts a hand on his arm, and he looks at her instead.

Eli unwraps the package and gives Nick an interested look. “You made these? That’s so cool.” He smiles at Nick, and Everett can see that Nick feels embarrassed.

Ginn lets go of Nick and takes one of the bracelets in her hand. “In my village, we exchange these at the wedding ceremony. Dr. Rush, will you give us your blessing now?” She waits until Nick has murmured something too low for Everett to catch, then ties the bracelet around Eli’s wrist and he does the same to her.

Ginn kisses Nick on the cheek. There’s no one else waiting to talk to them, so Nick takes her hand and from Eli’s gestures he gathers he’s just encouraged her to dance with Nick.

Everett decides that this is as good a time as any to ask Eli’s mom to dance, and they join Nick and Ginn on the dance floor. Everyone else has moved away and formed an appreciative circle.

The music isn’t hard to move to, not too fast or too slow and when this song is over, Eli takes his mother’s hand and Nick hands Ginn over to him. Nick moves back into the crowd but Lisa Park snags him and hands him a drink.

Afterwards, as he and Maryann sit down at a table, Eli and Ginn dance together, to a song that bring back memories.

“Eli always loved ‘Stand by Me,” Maryann says. “I’m not surprised he picked it.”

The next Eli-and-Ginn dance begins, with somehow everybody else understanding that this is their time alone on the dance floor, It’s ‘Moondance’ and Eli’s mom puts a hand up to her mouth. Her eyes start to shine and she blinks hard before smiling at Everett.

“They played that song at my wedding. I think Eli picked it because of that.”

They listen to it together, and to the next song. He’s heard it before, and it’s a good song, but he doesn’t remember the band’s name. After that Eli and Ginn start making rounds of the tables and talking with their friends and the music turns loud and raucous. People dance with others or by themselves, and it’s good to see the crew blowing off steam

Greer comes by with drinks for all of them and Everett invites him to sit down, although he’s decided to stick with nonalcoholic drinks. He’s going to relieve David later.

Greer tells Eli’s mother stories about Eli that showcase his intelligence, his bravery. He tells her that Ginn is courageous and as smart as Eli is, that between the two of them they’re going to rock the science world.

After a time, Lisa makes a beeline to their table and her smile is mischievous. “He’s ready, we think. We’ve poured three drinks into him and he’s suspicious, but he hasn’t figured it out yet.”

A little concerned, Everett asks “Who’s ready? For what?”

Greer laughs. “Doc,” he says. “The Science Team made some kind of bet with him and he lost. He’s got to dance with Dale, Chloe, Eli, and whoever Chloe picks as a stand in for McKay. Eli figured this was the best time to make him pay up.”

“Three drinks? He had one with me before the party. Is he sounding very Scottish?”

Lisa giggles. Everett suspects she’s had a few, too. “Aye, and he’s gettin’ pure pished, in his own words,” she says with a horrible attempt at Nick’s accent.

“No more,” he tells her firmly. “He won’t be able to walk, let alone dance. Better start pouring water into him, and some food.”

“We will, we’re all going to eat as soon as he finishes his dances.” She beckons to Greer. “I got him agreeable, you get him out on the dance floor.”

Greer just grins.

* * *

Greer gets Nick out into the middle of the dance floor, keeping a good grip on his bicep. Nick objects to paying up on his bet, claiming he’d agreed to no such thing until Eli broadcasts the recording he’d made on the intercom system.

It’s funny and Nick doesn’t seem to be on the verge of a panic attack, although his eyebrows have climbed so high on his forehead that they disappear under his bangs. He runs a hand through his unruly hair, and says something in a lyrical language, probably Gaelic, that Everett suspects is a string of curse words, then he gives in gracefully. Well, gracefully for Nick.

“Fine then, you right bastards, let’s get this done. Who’s first?” His hands are planted on his hips.

“Me,” Eli yells. “I pick a line dance. And I’ll let the rest of you know when you can jump in.” He joins Nick and Greer gives Eli a fist bump, then moves back to Lisa.

Eli nudges Nick and says, “C’mon, Doc. Here’s the steps.” Eli goes over them a few times, and Nick catches on quickly to the Electric Slide. Everett has always found him to be graceful and the alcohol hasn’t taken that away yet. Nick’s moves are relaxed and when the Ghost Busters theme starts up, Nick rolls his eyes, but he steps and slides in time to the music like he’s done this a thousand times before.

He looks really good.

Eli is having a ball. He dances with Nick for the entire song, then when an old R and B classic begins, he beckons to the crowd and there’s a rush for places and lots of laughing as the crowd mostly move together. Nick could have ducked out, he fulfilled his obligation with the first song, but when Everett catches his eyes, he shrugs his shoulders and looks over towards Eli, and smiles while executing a slide step to his left.

Dale Volker grins when he claims the next dance. “I pick Limbo. Dr. Nicholas Rush, you are challenged.”

Nick raises his eyes as if to heaven, then strides over to the drinks table and snatches up another mixed drink, moonshine and fruit juice, and drinks it down. Everett is suddenly doubtful that doing this with Volker is a good idea.

Dale is standing out in the middle of the dance area but when Everett starts to walk out to talk to him about not pushing Nick into something he’s not comfortable doing, Dale winks at him and gives a tiny shake of his head.

Everett decides to trust Dale. He and Nick rub each other the wrong way, they always have, but Dale is a kind man, and he knows how hard it’s been for Nick to feel comfortable with people being close to him. That business where he almost let Nick fall while doing repairs on the ship because he was reluctant to really grip him had been the point where Dale Volker had decided to get over his issues about Nick. Everett knew Dale had been traumatized by watching Nick be tortured, and confused about Nick’s orgasms during some of the rapes. The crew had been Kiva’s victims, too. Dale had been going to counseling. He thought that from Nick’s comments lately that things were better between the two men. Volker didn’t turn bright red anymore whenever he looked at Nick, at least.

Nick strides out to Volker, attitude in every step. Dale Volker holds his own, though, doesn’t look away, flush red, or stammer when he offers Nick a handshake.

Everett didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until Nick takes Volker’s hand and they shake hands firmly.

Huh, he thinks. That happened.

Brody brings out a telescoping pole that he hands over to Everett. “I’ve got to run the music, Colonel. Draft some people to hold the ends of this thing, will you?”

He doesn’t actually have to ask anyone to help out, because T.J. joins him, Carmen on her hip; they extend the pole between them and agree to lower the pole just an inch at a time. There’s no way Dale Volker can win this, since Nick has the advantage of being both shorter and a lot more agile, but they can stretch the dance out a bit.

To the beat of Caribbean music, Nick and Dale compete, and they are passing jibes back and forth, but they aren’t hurtful or mean. They both make it through the first song still in the game, although before Brody starts up the music again, he calls for a show of hands on who’s expected to win between the two contestants, and Nick gets a unanimous vote. Volker playfully shakes his fist at Brody, who shrugs, and announces that anyone else who wants to join in can get in line.

He and T.J. raise the pole back up and there’s a lot of giggling and swinging of hips as the more agile crewmembers pass under the pole.

Nick holds his hands out for Carmen, who’s been wiggling on T.J.’s hip, excited by the dance, and T.J. passes her over. “Don’t drop her,” she warns.

“I would never,” Nick says haughtily. “Miss Carmen clearly wants to dance.”

He holds Carmen firmly as they pass under the pole for a few turns, then hands her over to Everett when it starts to get tricky even for him.

Dale and most of the crew are out, and after this pass, only Chloe and Nick are left. Nick makes a gesture towards Chloe, like he’s abdicating in her favor, and Chloe shakes her head, laughing.

“I want to beat you fair and square!” she calls out loudly, over the music.

“All right, then lass. Take your best shot!” Nick yells back. He makes an arm gesture and bows like Chloe is royalty.

For a moment, Everett wonders if that was a Machiavellian plot of Nick’s, because Chloe is laughing so hard as she bends her back under the pole, she misjudges and bumps it.

Nick looks surprised, though, and really, when did any of Nick’s plots end well. David used to say that Nicholas Rush could put Machiavelli to shame, but Everett just doesn’t see it. Come to think of it, it’s been a long time since David’s voiced that opinion. These days, when he does talk about Nick, he expresses concern about his ability to cope. He seems to think Nick is barely holding his shit together, and that he should be kept out of stressful situations and can’t be trusted to know his limits. ‘He needs a keeper, Everett,’ David had said.

Every one starts stamping their feet and clapping and in general making a lot of racket intended to encourage Nick to pass under the pole and either tie with Chloe or win.

Nick shoots him a look and comes closer. A lot closer. Well, it is noisy in here. Nick says, practically in his ear, “Your lot are all daft, you know.”

“My lot? Okay, I’ll claim them, but that includes you, too, buster.” He nods towards the pole, while Carmen tries to climb across him to Nick. “You gonna show my lot how this is done?”

“Yes, yes.” He smiles at Carmen and gently caresses her cheek. “Your Da can dance with you in just a bit, wee girl.”

“Go!” Everett says, grinning. “I have it on good authority we can eat after you finish paying up.”

Nick wins, of course, and straightens back up, pushing his mop of hair out of his eyes. Chloe practically skips over to him and takes his hand. “My turn,” she yells. “Hit it, Brody.”

It’s sweet, the music she’d picked and they dance together to a version of ‘Over the Rainbow and What a Wonderful World.’ Nick twirls her a few times, and she does the same to him. He thinks maybe that if Chloe’s father hadn’t died to save his daughter and the rest of the crew, that this might have been the father-daughter dance they would have chosen for her wedding.

Chloe doesn’t think of Nick as a father-figure, he’s pretty sure. Nor a big brother, teasing her all the time. They went through hell together on that Nakai ship, and he saved her. He remembers how she looked at Nick after that. He’s a mentor to her, closer than friends, but they don’t really socialize together.

Family, yes. Maybe an uncle. He grins and swoops Carmen around, doing their own version of a father-daughter dance. A crazy uncle, though. One that came through for her, has come through for all of them.

Hopefully, he’ll come through for her again, with stasis pods and figuring out to boot those Nakai genes out of her DNA. Tonight, though, Chloe is happy. The music is ending and Nick has steered her over to where Matthew is waiting. He twirls her one more time, into Matthew’s arms. She hugs Matthew, and then after the music stops, steps back over to Nick. She’s whispering something in his ear, and a baffled look briefly crosses his face, morphing into something that looks kind of shy. She pulls him around so she can look him in the eyes, and Everett swears that for this moment, it’s like they’re the only two people in the room.

He nods finally, and takes a deep breath. Chloe leaves him and crosses the dance floor to him. “Colonel,” she says, “I pick you to be Dr. McKay’s stand in. If it’s all right with you, that is. Nick is willing.”

“Me? For what? Another line dance?” He feels a little flustered. And suspicious. He’s getting the distinct impression that Chloe is playing matchmaker.

“If you want,” she says, looking at him levelly. “Or maybe something else.”

Something else is probably a dance where they would be close to each other.

Well, fuck. If they do this, the rumors are gonna fly about them. He wants Nick, but he hadn’t figured on announcing his interest to the entire crew.

Chloe is waiting, her elegant eyebrows arched, her sleeveless dress a statement of unflinching honesty since everyone can see how the Nakai have changed her skin. Her courage can put him to shame.

Oh, hell. The crew has probably got a betting pool on the two of them. Probably had it for months, ever since they started to become closer.

He feels reckless and a little dangerous and suddenly he wants to play with fire, not be cautious and careful. He wants to pull Nick to him and be blatant about it.

He turns a little and sees that Nick is watching him, his arms crossed over his chest. He looks both anxious and defiant to Everett. He gives him a nod, and tells Chloe, “Sure. Um, not a line dance.”

She reaches for his hand and squeezes it, then takes the baby from him, saying, “Let’s go find your mama.”

He probably shouldn’t have let her do that, but Chloe has seemed only human today. Maybe letting her be out among people would help keep the Nakai in her submerged.

Matthew and T.J. both converge on Chloe, resulting in Carmen being back in her mother’s arms and Chloe back in Matthew’s.

Chloe holds up two fingers, a signal to Brody, apparently, and a slow, smoldering fiddle tune fills the air. As if hypnotized, he and Nick draw closer and closer and closer to each other, and Nick’s only got eyes for him and he doesn’t care that every eye in the place is probably upon them.

Nick and he are circling each other. They dance closer as if drawn together by an invisible string. Nick lifts his chin, a challenge if he ever saw one and he doesn’t think, he just acts.

The music changes to a faster beat and he pulls Nick to him. It’s exhilarating, dancing like this with Nick, and he’s good, Nick is, and he follows Everett’s lead until the music changes again and then Nick is leading. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to, because he can read what Nick wants and he knows Nick can do the same with him.

The music is brisk and at the same time intensely heart breaking. They move over the entire dance floor, and Nick is looking at him and God, he wants him. He wants to dance him right out of the Mess and into the first room with a locking door and he wants to take off Nick’s clothes and lay him down and kiss him everywhere and he wants to put his mouth on Nick’s dick and his fingers inside him and he wants to fuck him and he wants Nick to fuck him. Touch him, kiss him. Go home with him to his quarters, and hear Nick agree to move in.

Nick swallows and his eyes have gotten huge. The music changes again, back to a slow building and instead of the fast steps they’d been doing in time to the music, Nick puts his arms around Everett’s neck and now it’s Everett’s turn again to lead.

It’s slow dancing, swaying together and this is one of those moments that he can shed being Colonel Young, and just be Everett.

He’s sharing something very personal with these people by choosing this kind of dance. Something that he’d kept shoved down inside of himself, only letting it out in dim bars among strangers. David had known this about him, but not Emily. Not his family. His old team, they had known. He’d trusted them with more than his life.

But these people are his, his crew. He lives among them every hour of the day and they are all alone out here in the universe. They have to depend on each other, trust each other. He doesn’t want to keep his feelings about Nick to himself. Surely Nick is telling him he’s ready to be in a relationship.

Isn’t he? Fuck, maybe Nick is just having a moment of insanity because of all the booze Lisa Park poured into him. He could have plausible deniability later.

And what would be Everett’s excuse? Gossip would spread that it was he who picked this dance over an innocuous line dance where he and Nick never touched.

Nick must pick up on his indecisiveness, because he takes a step back to look at him. “All right?” he says quietly.

Just as quietly, Everett asks him, “Is this you cashing in your raincheck?”

Nick smiles at him, and there’s something complicated about that smile, A tad shy, a little unsure, a lot hopeful. “A down payment, let’s say. There’s something I need to clear up first.” He looks down for a moment, then up again, stepping close again. “Are you sure, Everett?”

“I am, Dr. Rush.” He pulls Nick tight against him.

The music comes to a stop, and they step back from each other. Greer’s voice cuts through the sound of voices. “Chow time, folks. Ginn, Eli, Maryann, Camile, T.J, Colonel, Doc, you’re up first, the rest of you, form a line.”

Everett looks around at the crew, but the announcement of food has distracted most of them from staring at them. He puts an arm around Nick’s shoulders and walks him over to Chloe. She smiles at them a trifle smugly.

“An’ what,” Nick says, the lilt strong in his voice, “have you to say for y’self, Miss Chloe Armstrong?”

Chloe shrugs and then proceeds to kiss Nick on the cheek, and then does the same to him. “They’re waiting for you two,” and she points to the tables that are loaded with food. “If you don’t get going, Destiny might just have its second mutiny.”

Everett laughs, marveling that one of his worst times on Destiny could be used in a joke and not make his guts clench. “We’re going, we’re going.”

He keeps his arm around Nick’s shoulders until they take their place in line, fill plates with the feast Becker and his volunteers have created and sit down with Camile, T.J., Ginn and Eli, and Eli’s mom. He and T.J take turns holding Carmen so the other one can eat. Nick makes faces at the baby, delighting her.

It’s fun, the jokes and laughter, the camaraderie, and Nick holds his own, in a quiet, wry way, and Everett wonders if this was how he was before grief stole joy from his life.

Regretfully he stands, and stretches. Enough time has gone by for the two drinks he’s had to not impair his judgment, and it’s time he relieved David.

“Eli, Ginn, congratulations, You’ve both got the next week off. Have fun.” Eli grins, and Ginn looks surprised. “It’s not much of a honeymoon, I know.”

“No,” Eli protests. “It’s great.” He takes Ginn’s hand and kisses her fingers.

“I’m going to go to the Bridge, let Colonel Telford have a chance to eat and relax, enjoy the party.”

Nick stands. “I’ll go too.”

Everett shakes his head. “You’re off shift, genius, until you can pass a sobriety test. Don’t think the ship can survive you jabbing at buttons.”

Nick’s lower lip starts to jut out. “I am not in.. in.t... drunk,” he says, making each word practically stand on its own. Except the one he can’t quite pronounce since he’s definitely sloshed.

Everett pats his cheek. “Enjoy the party, and get some sleep. We still on for chess tomorrow evening?”

Nick glares at him, but nods. “Yes, a’course. Believe I’ll have another glass of Mr. Brody’s finest.”

Everett chuckles. “Have fun. Don’t forget to drink a ton of water before you go to bed.” He’s really becoming fond of Nick’s eyerolls. This one made the top ten list. Nick shoots him a disgruntled look and takes himself over to the drinks table. He doesn’t bother this time with mixing the booze with juice or water. He downs a triple shot and wipes his mouth.

Well, it wasn’t like he didn’t know that Nick was a handful. He grins. Being with Nick will never be boring.

Nick comes back over to him, and he’s so tempted to kiss the pout off his face. But not yet. Nick said there was something he needed to do first, before they take things to a physical level.

“Well, then, off with ye,” Nick says. “I’ll see ye tomorrow, then aye?” His words are starting to slur just a bit. He’s not stumbling drunk, not yet, but it won’t be long. That triple shot pushed him right over the edge.

He wishes he could stay, dance with Nick again, but it’s only right that David get a chance to be with the crew and have some down time. It was generous of him to take the Bridge during the wedding and party.

He says goodbye to a few people, besides Nick and the happy couple. Greer he pulls aside and asks him to make sure that Nick makes it back to his bed, one way or the other, even if it’s on a kino sled.

Carmen is asleep on T.J.’s shoulder and he bends down and kisses the top of her head. T.J.’s too. She reaches up a hand for his and says, “About time, Everett.”

He knows that tone. “Don’t screw it up, Everett?” he says. T.J.’s smile confirms it.

* * *

David’s not surprised to see him. The kino feed is projecting in the air, the Ancient tech making the best TV system on Earth look like something from the 50’s.

“Go,” Everett says. “It’s a hell of a party, and we haven’t eaten this well for months and months.” He motions David up from the command chair. “Anything happening out there?” He nods to the windows, the soft ever changing colors from the FTL drive playing across them.

“No. It’s been quiet, for once. With the luck this ship usually has I wondered if both the Nakai and a Command ship would show. I’m glad for Eli and Ginn that they didn’t.” He puts a hand on Everett’s shoulder. “You sober?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I appreciate you taking this shift, but it’s your turn to have some fun.”

The grip on his shoulder increases. “Maybe go dancing?”

“Sure. They’ve got a good playlist going.”

“You and Nick. Have a good time dancing with him?” There’s something about the way David’s eyes narrow, that puts up Everett’s hackles.

He gives David a tight smile and slides out from under his hand, sits in the command chair. “I’m hoping I can dance with him again, actually.”

“That so. Nick know that?” David’s voice is very bland.

“Yep. Better get going, David. Before the food and booze are all gone.”

“Yeah. Think you’re right. There’s people there I want to talk to, Eli and Ginn. Others.” He nods to Everett and heads out.

Everett frowns. He’s known that David had been interested in Nick, he had told him that himself. He thought that had been done and over with back at the SGC.

He checks the ship’s monitors but David is right. It’s quiet out there. So he watches the party and turns up the sound. He looks for Nick, but doesn’t see him.

He doesn’t see David there, either.

* * *

 

The Weding Ceremony
In My Life by Monalisa twins

Ginn’s and Eli’s Bridal Barge Music
Skyrim by Peter Holland and Lindsey Sterling
Star Wars theme by Peter Holland and Lindsey Sterling
Song of Time and Song of Storms by Taylor Davis

The Crew Enters the Mess
Concerning Hobbits from The Lord of the Rings by Taylor Davis

Background Instrumental Music while Socializing at the Party
Folk Rock Music Compilation for Working or Studying

Matt’s and Chloe’s Dance
Tightrope by Janelle Monea

Ginn’s and Nick’s Dance and Maryann’s and Everett’s Dance
Twisting the Night Away by Sam Cooke

Ginn’s and Eli’s Special Dances
Stand by Me, by Ben E. King, Eric Clapton, Mark King, Phil Collins, and Ray Cooper
Moondance by Van Morrison
Hold my Hand by Hootie and the Blowfish

Eli’s and Nick’s Dance for the Bet
Original Ghost Busters Theme

Dale’s and Nick’s Dance for the Bet
Banana Boat Song (Day-O) by Harry Belafonte
Shake, Shake, Shake Senora (Jump in the Line) by Harry Belafonte

Chloe’s and Nick’s dance for the Bet.
Over the Rainbow and It's a Wonderful Life by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

Nick’s and Everett’s Dance for the Bet
Last of the Mohicans (The Kiss) by Jenny the Hot Violinist

Notes:

Sorry, I can't make it easy to just click on a link to hear the music I imagined Eli and Ginn and the crew would pick for the wedding and for making Rush pay up on the bet he lost. I tried just writing out the youtube link code but it still didn't take me directly to the music video and I couldn't copy and paste the code from the story for a google search. If you're interested in hearing these songs, it seems like googling youtube with the name of song and the artists is the easiest way to hear them.

 

Laurie

Chapter 31: Dialouges

Rush is drunk, pissed, three sheets to the wind, sloshed, and yes, intoxicated, although he apparently can’t say the bloody word.

He’s peeved at Everett for not allowing him to keep him company on the Bridge. It occurred to him too late that he could have rationally explained that the consoles where he would sit can be locked, and Everett would have the controls with the command chair.

He wouldn’t blow up the ship no matter how drunk he was. For fuck’s sake. Everett should have a little more faith in him. He’ll be sure to bring that point up tomorrow during dinner and chess.

Drinking down that last glass of booze was him being a bit defiant, and . . . ahh, perhaps he had been trying to bait Everett into arguing with him about Rush’s agency. It was stupid thing for him to do, but Everett hadn’t used his authority to stop him. The man had neatly taken the wind out of that sail by just laughing and then telling him to mind that he drinks water tonight.

All right, it was good advice. He’s tired now, and a bit sleepy from having a full belly and . . . he counts the drinks he’s had, and he’s no yet reduced to using his fingers. One with Everett in his quarters, three with Lisa – he’s actually glad she cajoled him into doing that, he’d have made straight for the doors before dancing like that tonight if she hadn’t gotten him to lower his inhibitions, and damn it, apparently he had agreed to the bet – one before dancing with Volker and this last one. That made five. No, six. Fuck.

He’s fair muntered, yes indeed. He’s had enough socializing to last him a good long time, but he doesn’t want to go to bed in his quarters yet. He doesn’t want to see David either, and he’ll be coming to the party. He’s too drunk. David might want him to go to bed with him and why wouldn’t he try to talk Rush into having sex tonight. They’ve been sleeping together, after all.

He’s going to break it off with the man. But not tonight. David did as he asked by having sex with him, but he’s quite sure that David wants more than the casual, therapeutic sex he’d agreed to with Rush.

Without the confidence he’d gained by being with David, he wouldn’t have moved forward with Everett.

He’s fucking grateful to David, he’s very appreciative of all the time David has spent holding his hand or his dick, especially when Rush has lost it and David has made him talk it out and gave him human comfort. That first time . . . His face flushes with embarrassment. David had taken care of him when he’d been such an idiot. A scared idiot who’d used way too much of Simeon’s sex drug before knocking on David’s door. He’d overdosed on it and David had--. He doesn’t want to think about that night. David had saved him, though.

He wants to remain friends with David.

But he can’t see him tonight, not when he’s like this. He can’t sleep with him anymore, not after telling Everett that he wants to be lovers with him. It wouldn’t be right.

David has a way of getting him to agree with what David wants, though. And he’s tired and drunk. David will be here shortly so he needs to leave. He can’t go to his own quarters, David will look for him there. He’d probably open the door if David said he wanted to talk.

He wants to be with Everett.

Everett banned him from the Bridge.

Fuck that, Everett was not the boss of him. Well, technically he was the boss, the military commander of Destiny, but that was for ship’s business.

This wasn’t ship’s business.

This was personal. Entirely personal. And he wanted to be with the man. Not that he expected to sleep with him, Everett wouldn’t, not when Rush was so drunk and they hadn’t done anything like that yet. But if he was with Everett, Rush couldn’t be with David.

Good enough reason in his book to go to the Bridge. He cautiously looks around the Mess and marvels again that having it look so different, what with all the decorations and table cloths and what not, had made it much more tolerable to be there. There had only been a few times that he felt panic start to bubble up and he was able to talk himself out of the anxiety and settle back down.

No one is paying any attention to him for the moment. Dancing has started back up and Chloe and Lieutenant Scott are doing some complicated steps that most of the non-dancers seem to be fascinated with watching.

He quietly leaves the Mess, and since he doesn’t want to run into David, he takes a more circuitous route towards the Bridge.

* * *

“Nick,” David says, stepping into the nexus. Fuck. He must have been out of sight when Rush looked down the corridor before he stepped out of the elevator.

“Hello,” Rush says politely; he starts inching back towards the elevator. “Ah, why aren’t you at the party?”

“Better question is why aren’t you? Being one of the guests of honor, after all.” David with his long legs has reached him and taken him by the arms, holding him in place. “But if you’re ready to go to bed, you’ve gotten lost, my friend. Think I’d better take you there myself. Tuck you in.”

He backs Rush against the wall and kisses him, his entire weight against him, one hand on a bicep, the other behind his head, protecting him from banging it. His knee separates Rush’s legs, and he’s pressing against Rush’s dick. Rush keeps his mouth shut, fuck you very much, and waits the kiss out. David will have to breathe, after all.

When David takes his mouth off of Rush’s, his face shows no expression. “Could have used a little help, Nick. It was like kissing a statue.”

“David, not tonight. I’m, I, not tonight. Talk tomorrow.” He pulls himself out of David’s grip, steps around him. David blocks him. Fuck, he thinks, fuck.

“You’re slurring your words. I think you’re tanked, Nick. I don’t think you’re safe to be on your own. Before too long you probably won’t be able to walk without falling over. Might break your leg. Can’t let that happen.”

Rush shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.”

David gives him a look that to someone who doesn’t know him very well might look concerned. Rush knows better. It’s mockery, a satire of empathy. “Oh, my sweet Nicholas. You’re much too impaired to be on your own tonight. I insist that you come with me, to my quarters. I’ll take care of you, sweetheart. Fuck you so nicely and you don’t have to do a thing. I don’t know if I can make you come, not with all that booze in you. But I promise, I’ll try. Even if that doesn’t happen, I’ll make you feel good.”

He pulls Rush’s arm over his shoulder, before he can think to say or do anything.

Regaining his wits, he pushes against David, but can’t get free. “You’re being an ass, and lemme go. I’m no so drunk I can’t walk on my own. We’ll talk tomorrow, I said.”

“Think I’ve got better judgment than you do right now, lover. You need to be in bed.”

“Not yours, David.” David tightens his arm around Rush’s waist, but he pulls his arm free, staggers away. But it’s just physics. Newtonian law, that’s why he stumbled. He can still walk just fine. And fuck, David let him do that. If he decides to force him along. . . He flashes to how the Lucians had dragged him from his cell, and how futile it had been to resist them. He’d tried, though. He’d tried as they stripped him and tied him down on the table.

David reaches out and strokes his cheek. Rush steps back and David rolls his eyes. “C’mon, Nick. My track record with you is pretty good. Remember all those nights when you weren’t sure about the sex, and I made it good for you? I fucking made you come in your sleep, remember?”

“I don’ want to have sex with you.” Fuck, fuck, he is slurring his words. How can he sound forceful when he can’t even say the words correctly?

Gently, David says, “You’ll change your mind. You just need to let me help you relax.” David steps close, cups him, strokes him through his new trousers. Starts to unbutton him, but Rush pushes his hands away.

Rush moves out of David’s reach until he’s against the wall, looks up at him. David, who is strong, and tall. David who could hold him down, pick him up, carry him. He suddenly feels much more sober. Adrenaline, he supposes or some survival instinct.

“Are ye goin’ ta rape me, David? I’m tellin’ you, ‘No!’ So are you goin’ to make me come when I don’ want it? You’ve done it before. For Kiva. Are you goin’ to rape me this time for you?!”

“What?” David looks at him with an honest, shocked expression. He backs away from Rush and looks sick. “How the hell can you say that to me? To me!? I wouldn’t rape you. I wouldn’t ever do that.”

Rush crosses his arms across his chest. “Then what definition of the word are ye usin’, if I say no to sex and ye make me have it anyway? I know I’m drunk. Once we begin I might - God, I hope I wouldn’t – enjoy myself. But I would have said no to it. I’m sayin’ I don’ want sex with you tonight. So let me go.”

David looks angry now. “You’re a little shit, you know! Why stop what we have going for us? We’re compatible in bed, hell, I’m great in bed with you. You’re so responsive, once I get you started, get you over your skittishness, your insecurity. You’ve never had the kind of sex I’ve been giving you, I know you haven’t. You were practically a virgin about men when I began fucking you, despite all those dicks during those three days. And baby, I’ve just started. You need to trust me, Nick.”

The words tumble from him, the words he had been thinking but had never intended to say, to hurt David with them. “But I don’ trust ye. I can’t trust ye not to twist me into being what ye want, instead of just takin’ me for who I am. David, I don’ want to have this out with ye tonight. I asked ye not to do this. Let me go.”

David walks away from him, then turns around. “Fuck you, Nick. I was good to you.”

“I know,” he whispers, and puts his hands over his face. He’s drunk, and he’s crying.

“You’re going to Everett, aren’t you?” He snorts. “I figured. Knew you’d try to be sneaky about it, but I know you, Nick. I know you.”

Rush nods. He feels he owes David the truth.

An ugly look comes over David’s face. He grits out, “He can’t fuck you like I can. Maybe you need a few days, try him out. Get it out of your system. I’ll give you that, then I’ll take you back, baby. You’ll want me.”

“Go away, David,” he says, and he forces his hands down, wraps his arms around himself. Fuck, fuck, he’s starting to sob. Fuck. Fuck it all, he doesn’t want to be like this, crying and shaking.

David makes a move toward him, and he can see it in his eyes; he wants to hold him, pull him against his chest and smooth down his hair. He’s done it any number of times, when Rush has fallen apart and cried out his misery.

David sighs, shakes his head. “You’re so confused, anybody can see it. Kiva did a real number on you and it’s going to take a long, long time before you’re okay. You’ve got Everett thinking you’re pretty much back to normal. He hasn’t seen you like I’ve seen you. You’re held together with scotch tape, and the least little tear and you’ll be in pieces again.”

Rush slides down the wall, puts his hands over his face again and just gives in to the tears. He’s too drunk to manage all these feelings. God damn Brody’s moonshine.

David walks back over to him, crouches down, puts a hand on his shoulder. “You need me, Nick. Guess you’ll have to figure that out on your own. When Everett’s done with you, when he gets tired of trying to put those pieces back together, well, you know where my quarters are.”

He walks away a few steps, then stops, sighs again. “I’ll give you fifteen minutes to quit crying and get up to the Bridge. If you’re not there, I’ll send some Marines to come and find you. Not your buddy Greer, though. You know, some of the military think you got what you deserved from Kiva. That maybe you need a reminder. Just saying, Nick. I’ve been protecting you in ways you didn’t have a clue about, but if we’re through, then it’ll be hands off with everything from me. Think about it, sweetheart.”

He strides off and Rush tries to get himself under control. It’s not easy to stop crying, but eventually he manages. He struggles to his feet. He doesn’t want anyone to come look for him, and David’s remark about the military has made him feel he needs to be on his guard.

It makes sense to him that some of the crew still harbor resentment against him for his decision to dial Destiny. It saved their lives, but it was also true that it satisfied his drive to see where the ninth chevron led. Eli agreed with him about his decision, but apparently that means fuck all to some.

Would they rape him if they caught him out alone like this? Or just beat the crap out of him?

He gets to his feet. He has no desire to find out ever, but especially not now when he’s drunk and probably no good at fending off angry soldiers.

It must be close to David’s deadline.

He keeps a hand on the wall as he walks, as he had after the surgery to take out the Nakai tracker.

Should he tell Everett about David? About how he’s been sleeping with him?

He should. He knows he should. But, not yet. Not tonight, certainly. But in a few days, he will.

* * *

He hears Everett talking to someone on the radio when he enters the Bridge. “No, he’s--” Everett looks up, sees him. “Actually, he just walked in. Young out.” He gets up from the command chair, moves cautiously over to where Rush has stopped just inside the doors.

“You can lock the consoles,” Rush says, and his voice sounds small to him, and pleading. Not how he intended to sound at all. His hands are opening and closing, and an errant tear or two escape him and trail down his face. He ignores them, doesn’t wipe at his face. He doesn’t want to give away that he’s been crying.

Fuck. Everett has zeroed in on them anyway, from the look on his face.

“You okay?” Everett says quietly. He stills Rush’s hands, wipes off his tears with a thumb, then he pulls him in for a hug.

“Yes.” Silence for a moment or two, then he caves. “No.”

“How can I help?” Everett’s arms around him are comforting, and he fights back his tears. He can’t tell him about David, he just can’t right now. But Everett hasn’t asked what’s the matter. He’s asked how can he help.

“I don’ want to go back to my quarters. I want to stay with you.” He hides his face against Everett’s neck.

Everett says gently, “You need to sleep this off, buddy.”

“I’m no op..opp. . . against that idea. I can sleep in a chair here. Or on the deck.”

“Guess being in the Mess got to you,” Everett says, sympathetically.

Rush shrugs, not wanting to actually lie to Everett. He’d been okay in the Mess, for the most part.

“C’mon then, let’s get you settled. You want to talk about it or. . .?”

He shakes his head. He wishes he could curl up with Everett in his bed, but being in the same room will be fine. He’s so tired now.

“Did you drink any water yet?” Everett asks as he stops holding him.

“No, not yet. I will, if you have any.” He’s thirsty now, he realizes.

“Yeah, there’s some here. I think – just let me check,” and Everett moves about the room, opening and shutting storage spaces until he hauls out a blanket, and picks up a water bottle from the floor near the chair. “Eli stuck this blanket here during the last time Destiny cut power and dropped the temperature.”

Rush takes the water bottle, drinks half of it and gives it back. Everett hands him the blanket and he wraps up in it. He drops the idea of just sleeping against Everett’s legs whenever Everett goes back to the command chair. It feels too awkward and probably he’d just slide down to the floor. He doesn’t like the image of himself sleeping at Everett’s feet. It feels too much like something David would want him to do. No, he’ll sleep as he’s slept so many other times when he was alone on the Bridge, in a console chair

“Thank you,” he says to Everett, and lifts his face. Everett catches on and kisses him. It’s a fond kiss, not particularly passionate, soft and open mouthed. A good night kiss, and he welcomes it.

Everett tousles his hair, kisses him on the forehead. “Get some sleep, Nick.” He nods back and finds his way to a console, checks to make sure Everett locked it, and sits down to watch the stars stream past as colored lights until he falls asleep.

* * *

He wakes and sits up abruptly, looks around and realizes where he is. He untangles himself from the blanket, gets up, walks over to Everett. “Wha’ time?” he yawns.

“04:26,” Everett says. “You’ve got a few hours to sleep still.”

His head feels fuzzy, not to mention his mouth, and his bladder requires his attention. “Bathroom,” he mumbles, and heads out to the corridor.

When he returns he feels more comfortable, having rinsed his mouth with the solution for oral hygiene supplied by the Ancients in their facilities.

He goes to stand by Everett, says blearily, “Everythin’ okay?”

“Yeah, it’s been quiet, thank God. The party’s still going, by the way.” Everett indicates the projection where a few determined crew members are still dancing. Most people are gone, though. “I’ve told Becker to kick them out when breakfast starts. I bet T.J.’s gonna get a run on her headache tea.”

Rush can feel his own headache starting. He must look it because Everett fishes the water bottle back up and tells him to go ahead and drink it up, he doesn’t need it. When he’s finished he hands it back and looks at Everett. “Thank you.” He doesn’t just mean for the water, but for letting him stay.

Smirking, Everett says, “And thank you for not blowing up the ship.”

Rush huffs at him, indignant. “I would never--”

Everett holds up a hand. “Peace. I don’t want to rile up a man with a hangover. Speaking from experience, it doesn’t help the headache.”

Rush suspects that he was the cause of some of those hangover-headaches and he doesn’t want Everett to keep going down memory lane about it. He decides he’ll go back to sleep. “I don’t want the next shift--”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you up before that.” Everett nods toward the chair Rush had been sleeping in, and Rush goes and resettles himself. He feels much better for being here. David won’t bother him and he’ll have time to figure out what to say to him before they meet again.

He falls asleep almost as soon as he sits down, and doesn’t remember any dreams when Everett wakes him up and sends him on his way.

* * *

Right after Rush finishes a long, wonderful shower, Everett announces a ship wide holiday and that only essential personal have to work today, half shifts, and if they don’t know if they are on that list, the civilians are to check with Camile, and the military with Colonel Telford. Almost immediately, while Rush is putting back on his beat up old clothes, Brody calls, then Park, then Volker.

Unless the ship catches fire, the FTL goes out, aliens appear and are either shooting at them or sending them messages to decode, he tells the team they’re on holiday, and he’s taking the day off, too.

They’re all pleasantly surprised to hear this, and also suspicious of his plans. He ends up promising Lisa that he’s not going to sit in the chair and Brody that he’s not going to go off by himself exploring the ship and Volker, well, perhaps he was a bit curt with him. He asked if Rush was going to do anything stupid, like upload his brain again, get himself trapped somewhere in the ship without his radio, plot a new mutiny or blow up the FTL drive by tinkering with it.

He’s afraid telling the man to fuck off and ending the call wasn’t really in the spirit of their efforts to be more civil to each other. At least Volker is talking to him now. He’s stopped looking like he’s remembering Rush being naked and being fucked in front of him when they’re working in the same room. Doesn’t turn bright red when their eyes meet.

It’s progress, he knows. He doubts anything can cure Volker of being Volker, though.

He’s on holiday. He doesn’t feel up to talking to David yet. He doesn’t want to get cornered by him somewhere off by himself, so that lets out staying in his quarters or delving into the newly unlocked files from Destiny at the Control Interface room or one of the other substations. David might try looking there, too.

There will no doubt be other crew members on the observation deck; it’s a popular place, and David wouldn’t make a scene there. He decides he’ll work on some whittling projects and listen to his IPod. He has plans to make a second chess set, one the crew can use. Also, Dr. Inman has requested crotchet hooks and knitting needles; some of the crew who know those crafts plan to take the artificial yarn the 3-D printer will make and create sweaters and socks and such.

He dashes to his room and gets his supplies, making sure he’s alone, then runs to the Mess to grab some wrap type leftovers from the party and takes everything to the observation deck. He debates sitting on one of the small couches, or at the drink station or at one of the small tables, but that might invite people to plop down next to him and strike up conversations.

He can guess what he’d be asked about. His dance with Everett must be a hot gossip topic, because there’s not enough entertainment on this ship and so speculating on other people’s love lives is quite a favorite activity. It’s not that he’s ashamed of what he did last night, but it’s nobody else’s bloody business. So he finds a corner where he can sit and watch the light show, sticks in his earbuds and gets to work on the crotchet hooks and knitting needles. Once that chore is done, he’ll indulge himself with carving out the crew’s chess set.

He takes breaks to eat the food he’d brought, gets tea from the drink station. People wave at him as he works, but draw the line at sitting down on the deck with him, so he’s spared their inane conversation.

He’s intent on his work, so he’s not being as vigilant as he should be, when a boot nudges his leg; he looks up and sees David.

Cautiously taking his earbuds out, he says, “Hello,” in a subdued tone. He’s avoided thinking about their meeting in the corridor last night, but he did tell David they’d talk today. Damn, he’d hoped if he didn’t initiate it, David wouldn’t either.

Rush starts to get to his feet, but David holds out a hand. “I don’t want to disturb you, Nick. I figured you might be working yourself up about last night, and you can chill. I’m going to give you a few days, okay? I’m gonna ask that you really think things through before you decide that the bird in the bush is better than the one in your hand.”

He smiles down at him. “God, you’re cute sitting here like this.” If anything his smile grows wider. “And when you start to pout, you look adorable.”

“Shut it,” he manages to say, “before somebody hears you.” David is trying to be charming, he realizes.

David crouches in front of him. “I timed coming in when we’d be alone. I’ve been watching you on a kino feed. And no, I’m not planning on making a habit of it, not like Everett did. You do know that he compulsively watched you for months, right?”

His face grows serious. “This relationship – despite all your protests about it, it’s a relationship, Nick – is the best thing to happen to me since I came on board. I don’t want to lose you. I want you to stay with me, and I want us to be open about it. I’m tired of being your dirty little secret. So, I’ve laid my cards on the table. I’m not going to stalk you, so you can stop trying to hide from me. We’ll talk again, in say, four days.”

David stands back up, looks down at him. He sighs, says, “And if you do sleep with Everett until we talk again, I’m not going to be an ass about it.”

He must look skeptical, because David shoots him a wry grin. “I’m not saying I’d like it, Nick. But we can be adults about it.”

He stays silent. He can’t think what to say.

David says, and his tone is warm and caring, “But if you decide in my favor, then I want us to be exclusive. I care about you, Nick.”

He finds words to say after all. “I know. I know you do. I am appreciative and grateful to you.” He swallows, “For helping me.”

David nods. “And deep down, I’m betting you know that you still need me. I want to keep doing what you asked me, to help you regain what Kiva ripped from you, and you’ve come a long way since that first night. You know, if I’d fucked you then like you were begging me to do, you so high on Simeon’s sex drug, you’d have been so imprinted on me, actually addicted to sex, that nobody else would ever be able to make you come like I would have done. You’d have spent the rest of your life feeling compelled to try. I’ve seen that, when I was undercover with the Alliance. I’ve watched the sex addicts begging to be fucked, turning tricks to feed their habit, buy more of that drug. I protected you from yourself that night.”

He shudders. What David is telling him isn’t new, they’ve talked about it before, but the image of himself begging strangers to fuck him brings up the images of himself on the table, begging to be fucked for water and food. He blanches, thankful that the doses he was given back then were low, not the overdose level that would have shoved him into sex addiction. He wouldn’t have been grateful to Kiva for the month’s reprieve she gave him, he would have hated her for denying sex to him.

David looks like he wants to pull him up, hug him, but instead he clenches his fists. David’s avoiding touching him, he realizes. “Nick, I want to keep looking out for you. I hope you decide to let me.”

He gives Rush one last long look, and then turns and walks away. Rush lets out a deep, shuddering breath. God, this is so fucking--. He feels guilty and like he’s been using David. He’d told him it wasn’t a relationship, but he’d known it, he knew David was spinning himself a fairy tale that them being together was more than sex therapy.

God. His head is aching now, and he doesn’t feel a bit hungry, but it’s about time for him to go to the Mess and meet with Everett. That’s why the observation deck has become deserted, he realizes. And David had been watching him sit here and carve things out of wood. It makes him feel a bit paranoid.

How Gloria would arch her eyebrows over this mess he’s in. “Two suitors, darling? What shall you do?”

Well, it’s not really difficult. He wants to try with Everett. But he doesn’t want to alienate David, or let him think that Rush didn’t appreciate all the help he gave him.

He’s got a reprieve of four days. Perhaps David will re-evaluate their ‘relationship’ and agree that it’s best to end it.

* * *

Rush is restless and unable to concentrate; he just picks at his dinner. He keeps stealing looks around the Mess, now back to its usual configuration. He wishes it could have stayed the way it was for the wedding, but that wasn’t practical for every day use. Everett beats him rather quickly at chess. Rather than setting up the board for another game, Everett says, “Feel like taking a stroll around the ship?”

He nods. Perhaps it will settle him down. He feels a little shy and uncertain of their next step, with this change in their relationship. People have been blatantly staring at them, like they’ve never seen them eating together and moving chess pieces around.

He feels like telling everyone who’s made their interest too obvious to fuck off. He reins himself in, though he wonders if Everett can tell how close he is to blurting that out to the next person who smirks at them.

Everett seems his own unflappable self. He stands up, leaving the chess set on the table. Sometimes they’ve done that, to let other crew members borrow it. So far, it’s always been left where they leave it when he comes back to gather it up.

Everett walks around the table; with raised eyebrows and a gesture with his hand, he asks if Rush wants to publicly hold his hand.

He wants this and the rest of the crew can fuck off. It’s just the novelty of watching a relationship begin, and really, his colleagues back at Berkeley and Oxford had been just as annoying. God, especially Oxford when Gloria had become his lover, and he had been considered her bit of rough. Well, he lived through it before and he can do so again. He answers Everett by briskly taking his hand and they walk out of the Mess.

Everett’s hand is warm and strong, and it anchors him. He feels himself relaxing as they stroll up and down corridors, and he listens to Everett’s most recent tale about Carmen’s baby adventures. It’s early still, and they discuss how to spend the evening. Everett turns down any of his suggestions that involve studying the data base, or checking on a few programs, or even practicing some self defense.

“How many days off have you even had on this ship?” Everett asks. “I bet I could count them on one hand. We can do all of those things tomorrow. Tonight, let’s have some fun.”

Everett brings Rush’s hand up to his mouth, kisses his knuckles. “I actually have something in mind I think you’ll like. Will you give it a try? If you don’t like it, we can leave.”

Of course he’s going to agree; he probably would out of curiosity, but Everett is looking hopeful and Rush suspects he’s gone to some trouble to arrange whatever surprise this is.

Everett’s idea of fun apparently means a movie night that Brody and Volker have set up with a jury-rigged laptop and kino to produce a large sized movie screen on the observation deck. There’s a decent crowd milling about and there are plentiful snacks, and even something that everyone is calling alien popcorn.

It tastes nothing like popcorn.

Brody – who seems to have become Destiny’s media expert – announces that the movie will start in five minutes and for everybody to find seats and to remember no talking during the show.

He and Everett sit on a padded high-backed bench. It’s out of the way against a wall, which suits him fine. He leans back, and Everett scoots closer beside him, puts an arm around him.

“An’ what is this film?” He grabs another handful of the alien popcorn from his bowl. It’s crunchy and tastes like lemons and salt.

“Actually, it’s three movies. First Shane, then The Sting. The third one is The Defiant Ones. Have you seen them before?” Everett helps himself from the bowl.

“I’ve seen The Sting several times. Gloria was quite fond of it. I like it, too.” He wasn’t keen on many films, not like Eli, but he did enjoy Redford and Newman together. “I’ve not seen the others. What are they on about?”

“Shane is a western classic. I think you’ll like it,” Everett says. Brody dims the lights and he leans against Everett, enjoying the feel of his sturdy body against his own.

Everett grins at him. “The Defiant Ones are about two men who hate each other escaping from prison. The catch is that they’re chained together and they have to work with each other if they’re going to find freedom.”

He eyes Everett sardonically. “Interestin’ theme on that last one, Colonel. Can’t imagine why you chose it.”

The lights darken further and the movie begins, with the streams of color from the FTL drive around the edges of the projection like a muted light show. He leans into Everett even more, turns for a kiss in the dark. Everett obliges him and they settle for the show.

* * *

Camile joins them during intermission between the second and third movie. David, it seems, has decided to switch with Jackson for the next four days. Daniel has been lobbying to come and see what treasures in the data base that Destiny has to offer, and David asked to accommodate him.

“I told him to go,” Camile says. “Dr. Jackson’s in the Control Interface room, looking over what you two found.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Everett says. “It was your watch. I’m just surprised he didn’t say anything to me.”

Camile gives a small shrug. “It’s just sooner than we all had discussed. But Dr. Jackson has been impatient to come on board since you two discovered Destiny’s mission, and David said now was a good time for him. Dr. Jackson’s based on Earth for a few weeks, so it’s a convenient for him, too.”

Rush keeps his mouth shut. He’s fair sure he’s the reason David decided now was a good time for him to be away from Destiny. David had come on too strong the night of the party, and he’s guessing this is his way of showing Rush that he can dial things down between them so Rush is comfortable.

It was considerate of him, yes. But is he doing this to genuinely back off to make Rush feel less pressured, or was he doing it so Rush would be grateful for his consideration and thus inclined to think the two of them could make a go of it. Has he realized, as Rush has done, that he’d been more and more dominating with him? He’d basically said if Rush wasn’t going to be his lover, he would let those soldiers who were holding a grudge take it out on one Dr. Nicholas Rush. Had David thought it over, realized that was basically a threat, and was trying to come across now as someone who would respect Rush’s boundaries?

Rush has always pushed at boundaries, mapping them out to see where the hard line is. He recognizes a kindred spirit in David. They are alike in a lot of ways. They both see the value of using the greater good to make the hard choices. They’re practical men.

If he hadn’t found the Bridge, if he hadn’t been able to kill the Lucians in their sleep, locked in their rooms, if Kiva had retained control of Destiny, would David have fucked him when it was his turn for Dinn? He wouldn’t have been ordered to do it, not like when Rush had been on that damned table. Would he have done it to keep himself in Kiva’s favor? Or would he have done it because he’d felt attraction towards him, even if it was twisted around dislike. David had wanted him when they’d first met, after all, even if Rush hadn’t realized it back then.

Everett nudges him. “Hey, space cadet. You look like you’re a million light years away. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Camile isn’t with them any longer; he glances around the room and she’s sitting with James and Dr. Inman. Oh. “Just thinking of what I want to show Daniel. I expect I’ll be quite busy while he’s here.”

“That’s an understatement. Fair warning, though, if you don’t take breaks to eat and sleep, I’ll come and nab the pair of you. I’ve had the lecture from General O’Neill about Jackson, and I don’t care to hear it again.”

“Yes, yes. You do realize that we’re both adults?” he says wryly.

“Yep. And you and Jackson and Carter and McKay and Zelenka and Lee, all the SGA geniuses, you all put science before sleeping.”

Rush rolls his eyes. Honestly, Everett is exaggerating. Somewhat. “Only in a crisis, which I admit, is practically every other day, but I’m no a genius, Colonel, so you can leave me out of that group.”

“Not a genius? What would you say you are then, Nick?” Everett’s looking at him with a smile.

“Hard working.”

“That’s a given, but you are are a genius, genius. Even Eli thinks so.” Everett laughs, then smooches him, and thank God, Brody had dimmed the lights. “You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that when you roll your eyes and get that pouty look on your face.”

For heaven’s sake, he’s not pouting. He can feel a blush staining his cheeks and grumbles, “No talkin’, the film’s ready to start.”

Everett chuckles again, and pulls him closer. This is how it will be, he realizes. Everett teasing him, and being affectionate. It’s actually been that way for months and months now. He’ll have to put up with it, he supposes.

Still, it warms him, to hear Everett say that rubbish about him being a genius. It’s. . . nice.

* * *

They leave the observation deck hand in hand. He likes this; he always did, with Gloria, and with Mandy for the short time they’d been together in Destiny’s simulation.

All the things he’d put off thinking about during their date are escaping from where he’d shoved them down; thoughts of David, of how physical he and Everett will be tonight, and curiosity over what Daniel’s thoughts are about the expanded data base, they’re swirling up into his mind.

Everett stops and opens a door to what they’re been calling a conference room. It has a large table and comfortable chairs and a few computer stations, but nothing like the Bridge or the Control Interface room. He goes inside and tugs Rush with him, and locks the door.

Rush raises his eyebrows. “What?” Does Everett want to have sex on the bloody table?

“We probably should talk.” Everett puts his hands on Rush’s shoulders. “About moving beyond kissing. I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for. I’m not sure you want to come back with me to my quarters.”

“I’ve been in them almost every day,” Rush says, puzzled.

“Yeah, but as friends. It’s different now.” Everett’s fingers start mapping out the knots in his shoulder muscles and begins to work them, getting them to release. It feels bloody fantastic.

“You’re worried I’ll fall apart if we’re having sex?”

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” Everett says. “If we need to go slow, I’m okay with that.”

He starts to say that of course he’ll be fine. Everett can fuck him, if he wants. But those words don’t leave him. He has fallen apart with David, at times. Yes, he’s much, much better. With David. Will that ease carry over to Everett or will he find himself shying away from Everett’s intimate touch.

Everett is waiting patiently, while his fingers begin to travel down his spine, searching out tight muscles. He smiles fondly at Rush, and he feels a rush of affection towards Everett. God, they’ve come such a long way from their days of distrust and violence.

But David. . .

Does he not owe David some respect? David asked for four days from him. He knows what he’s going to do. He’s going to be with Everett. It feels right, and being with David had begun to feel very wrong. But he wants to stay friends with David. David expects him to have sex with Everett during these four days. If he waits until he and David talk again, and he tells him that he didn’t, perhaps it will make ending their sexual partnership more palatable.

It is not a relationship, but he can’t help it if David thinks that it is. David’s been good to him, quite a bit, and also been an ass and dominating at times. He’s curled up on David’s lap and cried himself out. David coaxed him into becoming comfortable with sex again. David wants him to be needy. David thinks he’s still broken. David loves sex best with him when he’s David’s rag doll, pliant and too fucked out to object to anything David is doing, letting David call the shots in how their bodies are joined or how they touch each other.

In the long run, David will not be good for him. But he can give him four days where he can honestly say that he didn’t have sex with Everett, but their time together is over, thank him sincerely for the help he gave him.

They’ll be even then. Hopefully, they’ll retain a friendship. Also, perhaps this way David won’t resent Everett.

“Genius,” Everett says, and Rush looks up at him. “You’ve been doing some hard thinking there. Care to share?”

He nods, but finds it difficult to begin. Finally, he says, “I want to be with you, but for a few days, I’d rather not have sex.”

“Because you’re not sure you really want to be touched in a sexual way?” Everett has an understanding look on his face, and if he takes the easy way out here and says yes, it will be a lie.

He doesn’t want to lie to Everett.

He shakes his head. “No, I do want it. I want to touch you, and I want you to do the same to me. It’s something else.”

“Someone else?”

He starts, begins to shake his head but stops because he’s not going to lie to Everett.

“It’s David Telford, isn’t it?” Everett gently runs a finger down Rush’s cheek. “I’ve been aware something was up between you two for quite a while.”

“Yes. And no. You see, after Mandy and I tried, it was so-- and I was afraid that it would happen again, and so I thought of David, and he said he owed me and he wanted to repay me and it was just supposed to be physical, no strings attached, and he did, he did help me, and I’m grateful but I never wanted to be with him and he says we do have a relationship and I told him no, when he tried to get me to have sex the night of the wedding party, and it was terrible, the things he said and he knew I had feelings for you, but he asked for four days for me to think things over, but I don’t need them, I know who I want, and it’s you, Everett. It’s you. But I thought if we waited for those four days then when I talk to him again, he’ll accept it better if he knows I didn’t have sex with you. Yet. I do want you and--”

Everett puts a finger to Rush’s lips. “Breathe. Just breathe. You can take all the time you need to talk about it, but you’re starting to hyperventilate. Breathe with me.”

He does just that, and they’re practiced at this, they are, Everett grounding him from panic and anxiety, flashbacks. His breathing slows and the pounding of his heart calms. When he’s ready, he’ll explain. Everett will listen, but what man wants to hear that his soon to be lover has been sleeping with another man? Well, best crash ahead and get it over with. He takes a deep breath, and stops avoiding Everett’s eyes.

“You’re not angry?” Everett doesn’t look angry, but then, he’s sadly misjudged the man’s expressions on that in the past.

“Not with you. I don’t know if I’m angry with David. What happened the night of the party? I noticed you both were missing from it at the same time. Nick, you were really upset when you came to the Bridge. Did he hurt you?”

“No. He wanted me to go with him, to his bed.” Rush wraps his arms around himself. “I wasn’t going to do that, not after we danced and came to our understanding. I was going to tell him I wouldn’t need his help anymore, but I’m afraid I handled it badly. He tried to make me agreeable, and I was drunk and so afraid I might give in, and I hurt him, I know I did.” He stops, feeling wretched.

“He tried to make you agreeable? You hurt him?” A doubtful look crosses Everett’s face.

“Not physically. But I asked him if he was going to rape me.” He wraps his arms around himself, starting to feel distraught. “I told him he didn’t want me for who I am but for who he could make me be. I shouldn’t have said that, it was Brody’s moonshine at work.”

“Nick,” Everett says, and pulls him into a hug. “Start back at the party, why did you decide to come to the Bridge and what happened, step by step.”

He takes a deep breath. If he refuses, Everett won’t press him. He won’t try to manipulate him into doing as he wants. David, he would, though. He’s made the right choice and he should begin as he wants to go on with this relationship. He sits down in a chair and indicates for Everett to do the same. “All right,” he says. “But maybe I should start at the actual beginning, when I asked David for his help.”

* * *

When he’s finished sketching out what’s been going on with the arrangement with David – and he didn’t go into details, that is private between him and David – he looks at Everett. He’d been keeping his eyes on Everett’s shoulder till then.

Everett is angry. He’s not trying to hide it behind that stoic look he sometimes will get. Rush flashes on the desert planet where Everett had left him, where Everett had hidden his anger behind that expression until the beating had begun.

He’s not going to hit him. He knows this, but still he can’t stop himself from flinching back a bit and he feels anxiety sweep through him. He wants to run away, but he stops himself almost as soon as begins to rise up out the chair, his glance flicking towards the locked door.

Everett says, “Hey, wait. I’m not mad at you. Relax, okay? You’re okay, genius.”

He stands up anyway, takes a deep breath. Then another. “Sorry. But you are angry, I can tell.”

“Yeah, I am. Not because you picked David Telford to help you be okay with sex again. I get your reasoning. But Telford crossed a line when he groped you on your way to the Bridge last night. You were right to call him out on that, Nick. And that unsubtle threat that he wouldn’t squash any talk about getting even with you for bringing us to Destiny, there’s no excuse for that. You are a civilian under the military’s protection on this ship. You can bet I’m going to be looking into this. Me, Scott, James, and Greer, between the four of us, we’re going to make it clear you are off limits for harassing or threatening or any assaultive behavior.”

“You don’t resent that I let him touch me?” If Everett is resentful, he wants to know about it now, and perhaps they can talk it out, not let it fester between them. Everett has always wanted Rush to be open and transparent with him, and it’s hard for him to be that way, he’s had to keep things close in order to survive and get ahead in the world, but he’s going to try to be very open with Everett.

Everett shakes his head, looks at him with a kind expression. “Resent? No. I wish you had asked me but I think I get why you didn’t. You wanted to come to my bed, or I guess, any future partner, without the baggage from all the trauma you went through. Or, at least, much reduced.”

He nods, relieved that Everett seems to understand why he did what he did. “Aye, I wanted to be on equal ground, so to speak. You see, I tried it with Mandy, someone I cared for and it was. . . It was not good, and I know I made what should have been a wonderful experience pathetic and awkward. I didn’t want a repeat of that with you. I was afraid I would be too much trouble. Too much work.”

Everett sighs, looks at him intently. “Nick, I apologize for ever making you feel that way. I’ll own saying to people, to you, that you’re a lot of work. It was my own frustration in not finding a way to reach you, to be able to find a way to work together.”

He shrugs. He’s not inclined to be deluded about himself. “I suppose I am a lot of work. I’m not very compatible with working with a team. I don’t easily share information; I’ve hidden things from you with what seemed like good reasons at the time. I tried to frame you for Spencer’s death, for God’s sake. I have little patience for ineptness, or people being slow on the uptake when I’m trying to explain things, and I don’t trust easily. I get so focused on a problem that I put off sleeping and eating and then I snarl at people who are bothering me about it. I’ve been dismissive of the military – maybe I’m a bit better now than I was at Icarus or the SGC – and I’m never on time for meetings and I won’t answer ridiculous time wasting calls on the radio, and I’m rude when I’m preoccupied, and I steal the blankets, so fair warning on that last one, Colonel.”

“C’mere,” Everett says, and pats his lap. Rush raises his eyebrows. Everett pats his lap again. It’s mostly curiosity that motivates him to straddle Everett and put hands on his shoulders, and settle on his thighs. Not a need for comfort, or well, yes, he does want comfort but usually Everett just hugs him.

Everett wraps one arm around Rush’s back, leans back in his chair, runs fingers through Rush’s hair. “I know all of that about you, Nick. Even the stealing the blankets part. I want you, not some paragon of virtue, not that I’m sure there is such a thing.”

“Perhaps Daniel Jackson,” Rush says, the tenseness leaving his muscles. He starts to play with the dark curls at the nape of Everett’s neck. Their texture is so different from his own flyaway hair.

Everett laughs. “Daniel is no angel. Jack O’Neill loves him to death, but he’s fond of saying that Dr. Jackson is responsible for his premature gray hair.”

“I’m going to fuck things up between us; it’s inevitable.” Rush kisses Everett, feeling as if he’s offering an apology for his future stupid mistakes. Everett kisses him back, and it feels like forgiveness. The anxiety is leaving him, and only its absence makes him realize how overwhelming his concerns have been. He’s starting to feel hopeful that this is going to work.

Him and Everett. How strange life is, that a man who despised him and who Rush couldn’t ever trust, have found their way to this new, bright thing. He’s suddenly not concerned about if he’ll fail at sex with Everett. They’ll work things out.

Everett says, “Yeah, I’ll probably fuck up, too. And when I do, or you do, we’re gonna work it out.”

Rush kisses him again, and he can feel Everett growing hard against his ass. Which brings them back around to sex. He looks at Everett seriously. The man’s pupils are wide, and he’s sounding a bit breathless. “Everett, about us sleeping together? Honestly, I don’t know how it will be with you. I’m hoping the gains I made aren’t specific to David, that sex with you will be possible. You don’t deserve to have a crying, screaming bed partner.”

“Hey,” Everett says gently. “If it happens, we’ll deal with it. I want the whole package, genius, your companionship, working together, your smart ass comments. I know you’re okay with kissing me, and if that’s as much as you’re comfortable with, then that’s fine. It’s not really about sex. It’s you that’s wormed your way into my life, and I want you to stay in it.”

Everett has said that with such sincerity, looking at him with his beautiful brown eyes and Rush feels a wave of happiness engulf him. It’s overwhelming and he feels like he’s caught in a current, but he’ll not fight against it. Instead, he kisses Everett again, and feels like crying and laughing at the same time. This is pure dead brilliant, this is something he really doesn’t deserve, but Everett wants him anyway, his many flaws understood and tolerated. Everett really does care for him. He resolves to be a good partner, to listen, to help, to care for Everett.

There’s something else he needs to bring up, though.

“What about David? You’ve been friends for a long time, I’m not wanting to be the reason that ends.”

Everett gives him a crooked smile. “Did you know he seduced my wife when he was brainwashed the first time? He met her when we used the stones. He told her lies, made her believe T.J. and me were still having an affair. Our marriage was on life support before that, but he put the last nails in that coffin.”

Rush shakes his head. He’d picked up that there had been friction between David and Everett, back before the Alliance had taken them all prisoners, but he’d not known why.

“We worked it out, after he became himself again. He’d said some things that were out of line, too, when we were Kiva’s prisoners. We’ve had our ups and downs, but so far we’ve worked things out. I think this will blow over about you.”

“I hope so, but what if--”

“Don’t borrow trouble, my grandpa always told me. If he can’t get over you and me being together, that’s on him. Let it go for now, kiddo.” He brushes Rush’s hair out of his eyes.

Everett says, in a tone of reminiscing, “You know, when we were young and I was single, we used to go out to the bars together. A lot of times, we’d be attracted to the same person.”

“Made it a game, did you, who could get into her panties?” he scoffs. He always hated it when people he was with at pubs started up that kind of nonsense.

“Sometimes. Or his boxers. We weren’t being serious. We were young and stupid and full of hormones.” Everett shakes his head, apparently at his younger self’s antics.

“So, you both go for the same sort. Although I can’t quite see David with Lt. Johanson. I don’t think she’d abide that.”

“T.J was the exception to a lot of things with me. She wouldn’t give David the time of day,” Everett says, with a small shake of his head.

Rush stills, says, “I don’t. . . I don’t know if I have a type. I’ve only loved you and Gloria, and Mandy, although with her it was more as a friend. It didn’t quite work changing to lovers. I’ve had sex with a bloke or two, a few young ladies, when I was very young, enough to know I’m bi-sexual. I didn’t want to know them, though. One night stands a long ways apart, until I met my Gloria.” He’s deliberately not said anything about just how many of the Lucians he’d been forced to service. They bloody well don’t count.

“Nick. Do you know what you just said? You said you loved me.” Everett says it slowly, and Rush flushes with embarrassment. He’s no good at any of this.

Quickly, he tries to make amends. “Ah, shite, that slipped out. Don’t worry, I’m no askin’ for you to say that back. We’ve only been dating one day.”

Everett kisses him and afterwards, while Rush is a bit dazed, says, “I love you, too, genius. I have for a while. But to be honest, I’m not sure it’s the kind of love for building a lifetime together. I hope it will be, but I want us to be open with each other about this.”

He touches his forehead to Everett’s. “I understand. Let’s take our time, there’s no hurry. No promises.”

“Well, I’d like for there to be one. I want us to be exclusive. What do you want, Nick?”

Nick says, with relief, “Aye, to be true to you and you to me.” More kissing, and Everett’s hands on his skin with his shirt rucked up, his hands finding their way to tease Everett’s nipples.

Finally, he pushes up from Everett’s lap. “Much more of this and I’ll see you laid out on that table, Colonel. I think it’s time I visited Daniel. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“You’re welcome in my bed to sleep, Nick.”

He thinks about it, and decides that they’re both adults and not hormone stupid teens. He’s wanted this for quite some time, to curl up with Everett. He’ll feel safe with him.

“Yes. I’ll come. Don’t wait up for me, though. I’m sure Daniel and I will busy for several hours.”

Everett snorts, and Rush narrows his eyes at him. Everett smirks at him and says, “I’m setting my alarm. If you’re not sleeping next to me by 0300, I’m calling you on your radio. You’ve got it charged up?”

Rush makes an annoyed face, but hands Everett his radio. Honestly, he doubts Everett will ever fully trust him about the damn thing. He daydreams for a moment, while Everett checks his settings, that Everett will be doing the same thing ten, fifteen years from now.

It makes him smile.

* * *

Chapter 32: Unexpected Developments

Everett wakes up when Nick crawls into bed. Damn, Nick is freezing. Sleepily, he tugs the human icicle against him and feels contentment as Nick squirms around under Everett’s arm until he’s gotten comfortable. Two minutes later, Nick is fast asleep, his breathing slow, his cold skin rapidly warming.

Everett yawns and hunts around for his phone in the dark, turns off the alarm. Nick has managed to get to bed early tonight. 01:00, that’s a record this week, although he’s only had to radio Nick once during the last few nights to remind him of his curfew. Nick just gets so involved in what he’s doing, the concept of time flies right out of his head.

He remembers when he’d realized that, and it had helped a great deal with his irritation towards his chief scientist when he’d fail to show up for meetings. It recast Nick from blatantly ignoring his authority to forgetful. Forgetful, that he could accept and adapt his strategy for dealing with Dr. Rush. Except, of course, for those times when he actually had blatantly ignored a mandatory meeting. After all that time spent watching him on kino recordings, Everett is well able to tell the difference.

Nick and Daniel have spent almost all of their time together for the past four days, and Nick has been very satisfied with Daniel’s work. Daniel told Everett that thanks to the new data they’ve uncovered, he thinks he can locate information on Destiny’s mission from Atlantis’ records. If he can, it will back up what Nick has found and silence those critics who accuse Nick of faking the information.

In the morning, Daniel Jackson will return to his own body and David Telford will be back. Nick has been anxious as hell about seeing David again.

Everett offered to be there when they talked, but Nick had firmly told him no. He’d said it was private, between him and David, and he’d handle it.

That was fine. Everett was planning for his own talk with his old friend, to get a few things straight. He felt conflicted, balancing David’s behavior with Nick against the many years he and David had been friends.

He probed himself once again concerning his feelings about Nick asking David to be his sort of sex therapist. He didn’t like it, of course; he wishes Nick had picked him instead of David, but logically, rationally, he understands that he had no say in that decision. He and Nick hadn’t been involved yet. It wasn’t like what had happened with Emily, when David had interfered in his marriage. Emily said they hadn’t slept together, at least not when he’d accused them. Probably they had after he and Emily had broken up. He’d made his feelings plain about that, and he remembers how satisfying it was to punch David in the face. David claimed it was the brainwashing at work, anything to disrupt Everett’s confidence and ability to command Destiny.

What he doesn’t want is during some argument with Nick – and he’s not kidding himself that they will always get along – for accusations and anger about Nick sleeping with David to be hurled at Nick.

That would be him crossing a line.

So he keeps checking in with his inner self about it. So how does he feel about picturing Nick and David in bed? God, Camile would be proud of his self interrogation, although he has no plans to tell her. Ever.

He’s a dogged sort of guy, so he takes his time and relentlessly examines his emotions about Nick and David.

He has strong feelings of regret and anguish that he hadn’t vented the air out of the gate room immediately when the Lucians invaded through the gate. God, the entire crew had suffered. Nick never would have been tortured and raped if he had, and he wouldn’t have turned to David for help in getting over the sexual trauma. He needs to let that go. He can’t undo the past; he needs to learn from that mistake and move on.

There’s a lot of suspicion that David didn’t help Nick out of the pure goodness of his heart. Nick picking David gave his old friend an opportunity to get his hooks into a man who had shrugged off David’s usual charm-the-socks-off-them approach when he wanted something or someone. That’s David’s way to make allies, friends, who would then be eager to do him favors. Nick rejecting him back at the SGC must have been seriously annoying.

There’s jealousy, he’ll admit, that David has seen Nick lost in pleasure. That he touched him intimately when Everett has yet to have that privilege. He’ll need to work on this, because it was Nick’s decision and he had a right to make it.

Smugness, too – which he knows isn’t a very attractive trait for him to admit to, but he’s trying to be honest with himself – because Nick picked him over David.

In the end, that’s what matters. Nick chose him to have a relationship with, to give himself emotionally to Everett.

Nick did what he always did; made a workaround for the problem because he refuses to be held back, shut out. That’s Nick, and Everett has come to admire that quality in him.

Kiva had ordered Nick held down, raped, humiliated, and if David helped Nick come to terms and get beyond the torture and sexual assaults, then he also guesses he’s glad David could help. Thankful for his assistance.

But why did David agree to it? He had to have known it wasn’t going to be his usual easy time. Nick made it clear that if David was reluctant to have Nick call in the favor he was owed in this way, that Nick wasn’t going to press him.

Does Everett really know David Telford? Persuasive, yes, and with an eye out for what would best serve David Telford, more than willing to offer a “you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours” attitude, but he’d never known David to be how Nick had described him the night of the wedding.

David had saved his life; he’d returned the favor. They’d been through a lot of shit together. A lot. David had been undercover with the God damned Lucian Alliance. He’d been tortured by them, brainwashed, forced to kill for them. He remembered it all, he’d told Everett. Everything he’d done. But that didn’t get him off the hook about Nick.

“Everett,” Nick had said. “I owe David. In so many ways he helped me, he was good to me. But I never wanted to be, what? His boyfriend? David says we do have a relationship, but if so it’s one sided. I never wanted things with him to go that way.”

Nick didn’t go into details about the way he and David had handled his fear and anxiety about sex, but he’d said as the weeks passed David wasn’t respecting the boundaries that had been clearly laid out. Nick had taken a long time before he said that David had started to be more dominating.

Addressing his knees, Nick said that maybe it would be something he would agree to sometimes, if he and his partner took turns. That he could see the appeal of just turning over the decisions to your partner for a night, when you were tired and frayed. He’d done it with David. But he’d realized that David wouldn’t keep it to the occasional time, and he wouldn’t take turns, and he wouldn’t confine it to the bedroom. “I’m no for having that,” he’d said.

David wasn’t much for compromising and he was more authoritative than Everett. It sounded to Everett like David was using Nick’s vulnerability to let those traits have free reign. David Telford was usually a shrug and a wave goodbye kind of guy when a fling ended. He liked casual. But this thing with Nick, that wasn’t casual. Something else was going on, he suspected, that made him want to keep Nick submissive to him.

Fat chance of that ever happening, as if Nicholas Rush would toe the line for anyone. Even when terrified of Kiva, he’d resisted her and saved all their asses.

And threatening Nick? That was so far out of line that his fists itched to connect to David’s face.

He’d gotten the word out to the military that Dr. Rush was off limits to be harassed or threatened. James and Greer especially had been furious when they’d heard there was talk of teaching him a lesson. Greer, he knew, had become protective of Nick, stemming from how Nick had kept Lisa Park out of the worst of Simeon’s actions, but he hadn’t realized James felt that strongly about Nick. He asked her about it after the meeting he’d held with his senior staff, and she’d said it was from seeing him so hurt by the Lucians, and from Barnes and her sharing their bedroll with Nick to keep him warm when they’d been locked up by Kiva. He’d woken up terrified from nightmares, and Everett remembered one morning when she’d hugged Nick when he’d woken up sobbing, until he’d gotten better control over himself and gently pushed himself out of her arms. A bit sheepishly, she said that although Dr. Rush was older than her, she kind of felt like a big sister to him since then. Alarmed, she added to please don’t tell him that.

Everett had told her he’d keep it to himself, but that he appreciated her attitude. James had a kind heart, whenever she did find someone, the guy was going to be blessed. Of course he knew that James and Scott had been involved back on Icarus, and that James had been hurt when Scott had fallen for Chloe, but James, to her credit, hadn’t let that stop her from being kind to Chloe, too. He wasn’t going to put it that way in his recommendation for her promotion, but he’d make sure the SGC knew she was an asset on this ship.

Yawning again, he decides he’s done with his introspection. Nick’s warm against him and he’s ready to go back to sleep.

He buries his face in the back of Nick’s neck, breathing in the scent of him, and smiles, looking forward to the morning when Nick will probably push making out as far as he could before their touches and kisses become having sex.

Wondering when he can talk Nick into actually moving in with him, he falls asleep.

* * *

Daniel Jackson gestures with big, wide arm movements that David Telford would never do, as he and Nick jabber at each other, trying to get as much mileage out of their last few minutes together as is humanly possible.

They enter the stones room and Everett holds up a finger to Barnes, stopping her from disconnecting the stone, from bringing David back. “Take a break, Corporal,” he says, and she glances from him to Nick to Daniel, and snaps out, “Yes, sir. Thirty minutes, sir?”

He nods and she’s out the door. Nick and Daniel fall silent, and it feels awkward for a moment until Nick holds out a hand and Daniel takes it firmly, then pulls him into a short hard hug.

“I’ll let you know when I find proof of Destiny’s mission in Atlantis’ databanks. Right after I shove it down the IOA’s throat. Take care of yourself, Nick.” Daniel grins and looks at him. “Everett, good to see you again.” They exchange handshakes and with a nod from Daniel, Everett lifts the stone and places it back in its case.

David Telford stretches like an alley cat, and his eyes lock onto Nick’s. “Hey,” he says, sounding confident, “Dr. Rush. You’re looking well. Care for a drink?”

“Bit early for that,” Nick says. “Some of us have work to do.”

“Well, then later,” David says, smiling and laying on the charm. “It’s good to see you, Nick. I missed you.”

Nick pinches the bridge of his nose, casts David an exasperated look, but there’s a hint of fondness to it that Everett doesn’t like.

He’s seen David Telford charm people right to his hand. He doesn’t think Nick will fall for it, will agree to resume being lovers with the man, but there’s this tiny bit of doubt that’s driving him crazy. He can’t interfere, though. Nick’s made it plain that it’s his business, not Everett’s, to tell David their quasi-relationship, sexual therapy partnership, whatever Nick’s calling it now, is over for good.

Still, he can move this along. He moves closer into David’s personal space.

“I’m afraid any personal time needs to wait,” Everett says, and claps a hand on David’s shoulder, using one of David’s favorite moves against him. “We need to talk. I need to get you up to speed, and I want a debriefing on your talks with the IOA. Dr. Rush, you’re welcome to stay.”

Nick shakes his head. “No, I’ll go. I’ll be in the Control Interface room.” He’s got a tight expression on his face and Everett knows he’s dreading this meeting. “We can talk then.”

David grins. “I’ll bring you some tea. Looking forward to catching up with you, Nick.”

Nick rolls his eyes, shoots Everett a hard to decipher look. “Aye, well. I’m that busy now that Daniel’s away.”

Blandly, taking his hand back from David’s shoulder, Everett says, “The Science Team has been working on their own pet projects while Dr. Rush was consulting with Dr. Jackson and Eli and Ginn are on their honeymoon. I’m sure he’s eager to see what progress they’ve made.”

“Or what trouble they’ve gotten themselves into,” Nick mutters. He gives Everett a nod, and a strained smile to David, and jogs out the door.

David pulls out a chair, looks inquiringly at Everett. “So, the Lucian Alliance has been busy.”

Everett drops into his own chair. They’ll take care of ship’s business first and then he plans on making it clear to David that threats to Nick won’t be tolerated, and that if there’s any more unwanted physical attention towards Nick, he’ll bring David up on charges. Or break his nose. Whatever it takes to get it through David’s head that as long as Nick says they’re over, they’re over.

* * *

David shakes his head, sighs. “Look, Nick obviously misunderstood me. I didn’t threaten him; I was letting him know that he needs to be more careful. Let’s face it. He’s still resented for bringing the crew here. People start drinking, get dumped at home, whatever shakes them up, they’re gonna remember that. He could stand to make more alliances among the crew, counteract that resentment. I was willing to help him – you know he’s not the best with social skills – hell, I probably still will do it.” He glares at Everett, arms crossing across his chest. “Jesus, you should know me better than that.”

Everett stands up, leans over David. “Do I? Do I know you better? You crossed a line with him the night of the wedding. He asked you to back off, and you groped him instead. He’ll never say it, but he was afraid of you that night, afraid you’d rape him.”

David jumps up, his hands fisting. “Fuck you, Everett. He never said he was afraid because he never believed it. Not really. He came to me for help. And I helped him, more than you’ll ever know. You think his issues started when he was tied to that table? Hell no. He’s been a hot mess all of his life. He needs structure and somebody who understands his needs, even when he doesn’t know them himself. I was making progress with him, real progress. You, you don’t have what it takes to---”

“To what? Control him? For his own good?” He makes sure his voice stays un-agitated but levels a warning look at David. “He doesn’t want you to dominate him, and that’s where you’re going with your help. He’s his own person. You try to put hands on him when he says no, and you’ll be dealing with me.”

David snorts. “He’ll come back to me. He’s just got to get this thing with you out of his system.” David begins rocking on his feet, gives Everett a contemptuous look. “And you can’t tell me you didn’t want to hold his leash when you landed here. He’s brilliant, and damaged and self destructive. You saw that in him, I know you did. I was Alliance and it fit Kiva’s plan to leave him alone, but if I’d been in my right mind, if I’d been in charge, I’d have brought him into line. He’s the most important asset on the ship and you let him work himself into exhaustion. He never should have been sent down to that desert planet to look for water. He was unconscious for what? Eight, ten hours? You should have taken control. It’s not a dirty word, Everett, it’s what he needs. You don’t have what it takes to keep him safe and sane.”

“Are you done?” Everett says, his voice calm and blank. “You done now, David?”

David stares at him, then looks away. “Yeah, Everett. I’m done. I’m gonna go talk to Nick now. Any objections?”

Shaking his head, he says, “He’s expecting you. It’s his decision to talk to you, but it’s mine to protect him, to protect everyone of my crew members. If I hear you’re whipping up a lynching party, I’ll put you down, David. Got it?”

David sighs, gives him a reproachful look. “I care about him, Everett. I want him to be happy, to be safe. I’m not going to hurt him, and frankly, I’m offended you would even feel the need to say that. I’ll talk to you later.”

Everett tamps down on anything else he wants to hurl. He’s said what he needed to say, and David is his second in command. They need a working relationship. “You’re off shift today. I’m pretty sure Dr. Jackson’s left you a hell of a sleep debt.”

David grimaces. “Yeah, no surprise there.”

“Go,” Everett waves toward the door. “Take care of your business and get some sleep.”

David nods at him and strides out of the room.

Everett rubs his temples, willing the headache he can feel building to fuck off. He grins when he realizes he sounds like Nick and decides to go to the infirmary and get some headache tea. Maybe he’ll go spend some time with his daughter, too.

Nick’s going to be upset, probably, but he’s not going to go hound him to find out what happened with David. Nick will tell him what he wants to tell him and he’ll be supportive and not act like a jealous asshole.

* * *

He’d planned on catching up with Nick at lunch, or to be more accurate, radioing him and reminding him about lunch, and depending on how stressed he sounded either meeting him at the Mess or bringing lunch to him, but Ginn and Eli coming to his door delays him.

When he hears what they have to tell him all thoughts of lunch or talking to Nick about his discussion with David are pushed aside.

Instead, he radios Nick and asks him to gather the Science Team and meet in his quarters with Camile and David and Matthew.

Eli and Ginn think they have a safe way to dial the gate back to Earth.

* * *

There’s been a flurry of activity since that first meeting with the Science Team and David, Matthew, and Camile. The stones have been in so much use it’s a wonder they aren’t red hot. Nick took himself off to Chloe’s room, dragging Eli and Ginn with him, to hash out their solution to dialing home.

Now things are coming to a head, here in his quarters.

Nick is pleading with David and Camile and him. Rodney McKay, borrowing Brody’s body, is listening and cuts in into Nick’s objections to the plan proposed by Eli and Ginn to dial Earth harnessing the power of a star.

“The math works, Nick. You know it does. The models all predict a safe passage home. Even if there is a flare, it shouldn’t effect the wormhole.” McKay is projecting superiority and disdain towards Nick’s stubborn refusal to agree to Eli’s and Ginn’s plan. Everett winces. That attitude isn’t going to go over well.

Sure enough, Nick explodes. “That’s a bloody lie, McKay! Do ye think we’re unaware of how SGI was sent back into the past doing exactly tha’?” He throws his hands up in the air. “It’s not safe! The Ancients never set things up to do that! When we have the ship repaired so that the solar collectors bring us to one hundred percent, not the forty we can do now, then Earth can be safely dialed. It will take almost all of that one hundred percent to do so, but we’d just reenter the star afterwards. This idiotic plan is reckless and stupid.”

“Not stupid,” Eli mutters. “Not saying your work was wrong, Rush, but we’ve built on it and turned it sideways, and it’s better.”

Nick glares at him. “I’m not denying that! It’s brilliant what you and the lass have done. But it’s still not safe!

David says, turning so that he’s looking straight at Nick, “General O’Neill and the IOA have given it a green light. My team at Homeworld Command have given it a green light. McKay, Kavanagh, Bill Lee – and Nick, you know they’re some of the biggest science guns we have – have given it a green light. Chloe and the Science Team say the math works.” David’s voice lowers, takes on an intimate tone, as if he and Nick are the only ones in this room. “Give it up, Nick, and come home. It’s safe for you, I promise. I took care of your problems back on Earth, remember? This crew, they’re not the right people for this mission. We’ll come back and we’ll do it right this time.”

“And Samantha Carter? What’s she have to say?” Nick turns away from David, starts pacing the room, but he looks hard at McKay.

Camile says, “Colonel Carter was not available to consult. She’s on a classified mission.”

Nick runs his hand through his rumpled hair. “Why are we rushing? Wait for Colonel Carter’s input and run more simulations. I’ll interrogate Destiny, see what the ship has to say about this plan.”

David shakes his head. “The Nakai, those murderous drone ships? Every day this crew stays on board this ship is a day their lives are in danger. When we return, we’ll come back with supplies to fix the ship and not be in danger of starving every other week. We need to leave today. Eli, how close are we to a star we can use?”

“Four hours-ish,” Eli says.

Everett raises a hand, and everyone turns to him. Earth orders or not, he’s in command here. The decision to go or stay rests with him. Everyone has valid points, and he also knows in his bones that Nick can’t be objective. Being on this ship means everything to him, and it’s going to blind him to accepting a decision to leave.

He puts a hint of a growl in his voice, meant to squash any objections, and says, “Dr. Rush, you’ve got four hours to come up with something concrete to present to scratch this plan. Otherwise, we’re going ahead. David, sorry to cut short your beauty sleep, but you’re on Bridge duty; give the order to head to the star. Eli, Ginn, go with him, help out, work out the fine details, bring the rest of the Science Team in on it. Camile, you and I need to start meeting with the crew, let them know what’s happening and make plans for what we’re sending back. Dr. Rush, I want to talk to you. The rest of you, go. Camile, I’ll meet you in the Mess.”

Nick looks stricken, but he stays silent while everybody else leaves.

Everett steps closer to him, but doesn’t crowd him. Nick’s arms are crossed over his chest, and his expression is desolate. “Genius,” he says, and holds out his arms wide, an invitation, not an order.

Nick shudders, then he’s moving fast until his arms are around Everett. He’s holding onto Everett so tightly, as if he’ll never get the chance again, and it’s fucking heartbreaking.

When Everett at last breaks their hug, holds Nick at arm’s length away, he sees there are tears clumping in Nick’s dark eyelashes.

“You’re not going to find anything that will make O’Neill rescind his order, are you?”

Nick shakes his head.

“Will you come back to Earth?”

“Will you force me? You’ll have to tie and carry me, if you can catch me, that is.” Nick’s expression, fierce and sad and hopeless, guts him. He wonders how he had ever thought that he couldn’t understand this man back on Icarus. What he’s feeling is always just so god damn spread across his face.

“I’m not going to make you do anything, Nick. I’m also not going to force anyone else to go through the gate. I’m going to explain your fears about this to the crew, along with what Eli and the rest of them are saying. So, do you want to go back or are you staying?”

“Staying.” Tears start slipping down his face.

“How many people do you need to keep the ship running?”

He chokes out, “A, a dozen.”

“Including you and me?”

Nick looks shocked and Everett knows that Nick expected he would go. He's under orders, after all. Nick thought Everett would leave him.

“Then ten,” Nick says, and the tears and the shudders start wracking him. “Carmen,” he sobs, then he can’t speak anymore.

* * *

Nick drags his hands over his eyes, and he looks wrecked and miserable after his breakdown. “I can’t fuckin’ stand this,” he says. “Your wee girl will be on Earth, Everett. If you stay with me she’ll grow up without you. You’ll hate me for that.”

Cupping Nick’s chin, Everett turns his face up so he has to look him in the eyes. “I’m not going to hate you, Nick. It’s my decision to stay here. It’s my duty, all right, not just because you’ll be on the ship. I’ll visit with the stones, and we don’t know what the future will bring. If Eli and Ginn are right we can travel to Earth whenever we fuel up in a star, and if Earth figures out how to send us back without blowing up a planet, then I’ll see her on furloughs. If TJ goes back to Earth, that is. I haven’t talked with her yet. I’ll go with whatever she decides.”

“Carmen, I’ll miss her,” he says, bites his lip, and another sob breaks through his attempts to regain his composure. “I’m daft, I know, but she feels like she’s mine, too.”

“You’re not crazy, Nick. If things work out the way I hope they do, then I’ll be her dad and you’ll be her papa.” Everett swallows hard. God, he feels torn. There’s no doubt she’d have a better life on Earth. School, kids to play with, T-ball and soccer. She wouldn’t face the dangers she would here. But he wasn’t leaving the ship and Nick. In his gut, he knew this hard choice was the right choice.

“And if you and I don’t work out?” Nick looks wary, worried.

“Then you’ll be crazy Uncle Nick, along with the other aunts and uncles she has on this ship. We’re family, Nick, whether we stay a couple or not.”

Nick takes a deep shuddering breath, and then another, and he waits him out. Finally, Nick pulls him into a deep kiss.

Nick tastes like tears.

When he pulls away, he runs his hands through his hair again. It’s a tumbled mess of tangles, and his eyes are red-rimmed. “Will you let me talk to the crew?”

“Of course. Do you want to attend the town hall meetings Camile and I are doing?”

Nick shakes his head. “No. I can’t bear having to say it more than once. You’ll tell them of my concerns, yes?”

Nodding, he says. “Nick, you can address the whole crew in the gate room. We’ll want everyone there long before we go through the star.”

“All right. Um, I’ll attempt to talk to the AI, and then I’ll be in my quarters, trying to think what to say.”

Everett pulls him back into a hug, gives him a small kiss on the temple. “Hey, how did it go with David?”

Nick sighs. “I told him I wasn’t going to sleep with him anymore, and that I hoped we could be friends, or at least be civil with each other. I told him I respected his request to think about it and that I hadn’t had sex with you, out of courtesy to him until we talked.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve had a lot of practice at this sort of thing. He, God, he acted like what I was telling him was some sort of delusion. Said he knew me better than I know myself, and that you couldn’t handle me.” Nick rolls his eyes a little at that. “He said I was still his, and that he’d be patient and wait for me to come back to him.”

Everett decides right then that David Telford would be the first one through the gate, and since it would be just like him to grab Nick and force him through, he says, “Nick, keep your distance from him when it’s time to step through the gate.”

Nick’s eyes widen. “You think he’d try to make me go?”

“Yep. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, but be on your toes, okay.”

“Well, at least he’ll be on Earth if things go well. Maybe he’ll get distracted with someone else and leave me alone about . . .” He makes a hand gesture that Everett guesses is a stand in for having sex. “I don’t want to cut ties totally, though. He really was very helpful to me. I want to stay friends; it’s not like I have a lot of those.”

Well, thinks Everett, that’s a topic for another time and a bottle of Brody’s best. Discussing how Nick’s friend making abilities could use some polish can wait. He suspects that Nick’s wife, Gloria, had smoothed things for him in that department.

“Okay, Genius,” and pulls him back into another kiss before he leaves this room and talks with the crew.

* * *

People are coming into the gate room, backpacks and bags of belongings slung over shoulders. There’s an excited murmur throughout the room. Chloe is there with Matthew and Greer as her security. TJ too. She has Carmen with her, carrying the bag she keeps supplies in when handing their daughter off to a babysitter. TJ hadn’t made a decision during the town hall meeting.

He’s watching the door, moving around, a pat on the shoulder here, a slap on the back there. Some of the crew have decided to chance the stargate. Camile, for one. She’s so missed her wife. Others are uncertain. As far as he’s aware, only he and Nick decided to stay so far.

It reminds him of when they’d thought they all were going to die by crashing into a star. They’d had no fuel, no way to navigate. Nick and he had taken their names out of the lottery for the seventeen seats in the shuttle that seemed the only chance of survival for those few crew members.

He’d admired Nick for doing that, until he got it in his head that wily Dr. Rush had known they’d survive their trip through the star.

Now that he knows better, Nick’s decision to stay on the doomed ship is again admirable. And it horrifies him. What had Nick said? Something about not wanting to spend his life on a planet with a bunch of strangers? Maybe it wasn’t only about Nick being brave and sparing others, but because without Destiny to fascinate him, he saw no reason to live. Just how much pain had he been in back then, still grieving Gloria?

Why hadn’t he seen that? He’d failed him.

Nick walks hesitantly into the room, eyes scanning the crew milling around. When he sees Everett he starts moving through the crowd towards him, holding a notebook. Before he reaches him though, TJ intercepts Nick. She takes him by the arm and pulls him off to the side. She’s looking steadily at him as they talk. By the time he reaches them, TJ’s dumped Carmen into Nick’s arms.

“Colonel? Everett. We need to talk right now.” Now it’s him TJ is towing off to where they can talk privately.

“I wasn’t sure, you know,” TJ says, her blue eyes serious. “My family hasn’t even seen a picture of Carmen. She belongs on Earth. And she belongs here, with you. And someday, I will take her home to them. I hope you’ll come back to Earth, too. One day. But Dr. Rush, his concerns. I heard them in the meeting, but. . . I didn’t know if I believed him. Not until I could look into his eyes myself.” A complicated look crosses her face, tinged with exasperation. “I know him now. He’s not lying, Everett. He thinks this is a bad idea, that dialing in the star is still dangerous, despite what Eli and Ginn figured out. I’m not taking a chance like that with our daughter’s life. If it works a few times, then we’ll see. We’re not going now.”

He pulls her into a hug. There’s no denying her decision will make things easier for him and Nick, at least for the time being. “Okay, TJ. Okay.”

They walk back together to where Nick is watching them, holding Carmen and letting her pull his hair. It’s such a mess already, she can’t make it worse.

“Carmen and I are staying,” she tells Nick, and a look of relief floods his expression. He gives Carmen a kiss on the cheek, untangling her fists from his mop of hair.

“All right, all right, yes, very good,” he says, handing the baby back to TJ and reaching for Everett’s hand. He squeezes it for a moment, then lets go. TJ nods at him and steps away.

“Everett, I’m written some notes here about what to say to the crew. Would you look them over for me, please? See if you think they’ll do?”

He holds his notebook out, but just then Everett’s radio goes off. “Young here,” he answers, noticing that Nick does not have his radio with him. He looks pointedly at Nick’s hip and hears a soft, “Shite” from Nick as he’s patting his side for his non-existent radio.

“Telford here. I’ve still got the Bridge, and Everett, you need to get up here ten minutes ago. Bring Rush. I tried to radio him but he’s not answering.”

Nick is still holding out his notebook. Everett asks, “Can it wait, David? Dr. Rush is about to address the crew.”

“No, it can’t. Telford out.” David had sounded tense. Everett beckons Greer over and shakes his head at the question in Nick’s eyes.

“I promise you’ll get your chance to talk to the crew, Nick. Something’s got Telford spooked. I don’t like it, so let’s go. Sergeant, you’re with us.”

David looks at Nick sardonically when they enter the Bridge. “Wait for it,” he says, holding up a finger.

Then the communication system engages and Everett hears a voice that’s identical to Nick’s, Scottish accent included, saying, “Destiny, I repeat, this is Dr. Nicholas Rush. I have grave information that you need to hear. Do not, repeat, do not dial the stargate when you enter the star. Or you’ll all be dead.”

* * *

Chapter 33: A Mirror, Darkly

Rush stares in shock as his other self stumbles out of the shuttle docking area. He thought he’d prepared himself for this, but the sight of, well, himself, blows away that notion like a leaf in a hurricane.

His other self lunges at David, shouting something almost unintelligible, Glasgow so strong in the words, accusing David of killing the crew.

Greer catches his other self, pulls him away while giving David a hostile stare. Aye, there’s no love lost between David and Greer.

His other self – and fuck, he’s got to find something else to call him, but he feels irrationally possessive of his name and the thought of ceding any of it to his older self by twelve hours is making his inner five year old want to come out and throw a fit.

He doesn’t want to share. Not his name, not his place on this ship, not Everett. Fuck, he’s going to have to talk to this other version of himself, to look him in the eyes and the bastard will know exactly how much he doesn’t want him here or to have to deal with him.

The bastard is struggling against Greer, and God, he knows the feeling, how the bastard must be cursing himself for losing control but practically helpless to stop fighting against the strong arms holding him back, how the memories of being restrained by the Lucians, of being held down, are entwining now in his thoughts – fuck muscle memory -- but the bastard can’t stop it, can’t help it.

He should step up, step over to Greer, try to calm the bastard down, but feels rooted to the deck.

David says “Nick,” in a commanding voice, and there’s concern and bloody expectation in his tone, and he’s heard it before, of course, when they’d been in David’s room and something about the sex had triggered him and he was beginning to go off the rails. It had brought him back, that and the way David would hold his face, make him look at his eyes.

He can’t stop himself from looking at David, like he was a puppet who’d just had his strings yanked, but David’s not looking back at him.

He’s looking at the bastard, and there’s satisfaction in the quirk of his mouth, and an avid fascination in his eyes. The bastard isn’t moving now or yelling; he’s staring back at David, and Rush feels his belly roil.

Is David the snake charmer and the bastard the snake, enthralled to do what David wants, or is David the snake, getting ready to strike his prey? This wretched looking version of himself, filthy and bruised and bleeding, who looks so god damn lost, David is interested in him. He’d love to take charge of the pitiful wreck, salvage him. It’s so fucking clear to Rush, watching this from the outside.

And, watching his other self, the expressions on his face, fuck, do all of Rush’s feelings show that clearly on his face?

Everett’s been silent beside him, and Rush knows he’s watching all of this play out, taking in how both he and the bastard are reacting, what David and Greer are doing. It took him a long time to figure out that Everett’s quiet, slow style didn’t mean he was incompetent. His sharp mind is taking all of this in, playing his cards close to his chest.

The bastard shakes himself, as if that physical action will free him from his unwilling attention towards David. He starts to speak, coughs, then croaks out, his head turning to find Everett, “You can’t let them dial, I tried to stop it from happening, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t, Everett. The star, a flare--” His eyes roll up and he sags in Greer’s arms.

David steps towards Greer, arms curving to take the bastard from him, but Greer swings the unconscious man up into his own arms.

“Permission to take him to TJ, sir?” Greer says, looking straight at Everett.

Everett nods. “Go,” he says, and Greer starts moving down the hall.

Fuck, Rush thinks, feeling shocked again. The bastard, me, I’m, God, I don’t think I’d ever realized that I’m . . . small. Slight. Greer lifted me – him – without even grunting. He – I-- we, our features are sharp, delicate. Our hands are small, even if our fingers themselves are a tad long. A musician’s hands, Gloria had said. Hell, no wonder David’s and Everett’s shirts hang on me so much, my shoulders have nothing to them. Rush looks at Everett, at the bulk of him, the sheer muscle he has, remembering how well he fit within Everett’s arms. He’s not that much taller than Rush but he’s so much broader. He feels a wave of self-consciousness, and flashes on how Everett had carried him from the Mess, from Kiva, the other times he’s picked him up. Eli, too, and Koz, had carried him. Fuck.

It’s not as if he doesn’t know his height and his approximate weight, although he’s lost kilograms since leaving Icarus. But he’s never felt small, even when he’s had to look up at most of the men he’s known and a fair amount of the women. When he’s had to climb up to reach things, when he’s fit into Destiny’s maintenance areas that the others can’t, it didn’t really connect in his head that it was because he’s so slight and short. Not even looking in a mirror had made him really realize that, not like actually looking at himself being held by Greer.

Well, maybe that wasn’t quite true. Kiva and Simeon, some of the other Lucians, they had made him feel small, but he realizes he’s thought of it in emotional terms, not physical. He’d pushed those feelings far down inside of himself. Hell, he’d figured they’d make anyone feel little and powerless and that had made it easier to accept.

He hears Everett order David to the gate room to tell everyone they won’t be dialing the star, that they can return to their rooms or their duties. He turns away, hits the controls to access the shuttle. Perhaps he can tell if it’s from Destiny.

He spends twenty minutes looking over systems and checking the log. It looks right. All of this looks like their shuttle. He uses the shuttle’s communication system to contact Brody and asks him to also take a fine tooth comb to this shuttle, looking for anything that indicates his other self is not who he says he is.

Everett has been waiting for him, slouched against a wall. He gives Rush an evaluating look when he joins him. They’re alone. For a short time while he was looking over the shuttle, he’d pushed aside his thoughts and feelings about his double. Now, glancing at Everett, he feels a flush of embarrassment about how he looks. It’s ridiculous, he knows.

“Nick? You okay, genius?” Everett says, both hands on Rush’s shoulders, and Rush looks up into his eyes. “You’ve been quiet.”

He makes a real effort to focus, to stop this obsession about his size. “Yes, I’m fine,” he says, than horrifies himself by blurting out, “I’d not realized how little I am.”

Everett smiles, and lets go of him, gives him a light punch on the shoulder. “Yeah, but you’re mighty. I’ve always thought you take up twice the space you ought to, you know.”

He huffs at that, but feels more settled. Everett is fucking good at that, settling him down.

“So,” Everett says, a question in his voice. “Do you believe his story?”

“That’s he’s me from twelve hours in the future, that Destiny was destroyed by dialing the star, that the crew all left and didn’t make it to Earth? Yes, I believe him. You know there have been problems with time travel and solar flares and it’s certainly not the first time various versions of SGC personnel have popped up. I believe the shuttle is from Destiny; Brody’s coming to examine it, for a second opinion.”

“TJ will do a DNA test. So, you don’t think he’s like Caine and the rest of his bunch? Or some alien shapeshifter?”

“I don’t feel like I did when Caine brought the shuttle back, when I talked with him or even just looked at him. Do you?” There had been such an instinctive feeling of wrong, wrong, wrong when he and the rest of the crew had interacted with those poor damned souls.

“No. And I don’t think Greer would have carried your twin to the Infirmary, if that was the case. He’d have let Telford do it.”

“Well, in a half a day or less, we should have some proof. If Destiny is destroyed, they’ll be evidence of it. My, um, well I guess calling him my twin is a wee bit more friendly than calling him ‘that bastard’, anyway, when he radioed he said Destiny did clear the star, even so damaged as she was. Perhaps she hasn’t fallen back into the star yet.”

“‘That bastard’? Nick, if TJ proves he’s you, are you gonna play nice? The guy’s been through a rough time if his story checks out.” Everett is eyeing him like he’s C-4.

“I, mm, I’m not sharing you with him, Colonel Young. This is my ship, not his. As long as he knows his place, I’ll try.” There. That sounds dignified. He hopes.

“Let’s not borrow trouble, genius.” Everett throws his arm over Rush’s shoulder. “C’mon, TJ should have test results back by now. We’ll go talk to your twin, if he’s awake.” Everrett glances at him, a bit askance still. “If you can’t do that without stirring up trouble, you don’t have to be there.”

He’s not going to be left out, sent away like a lad in time-out. “I’ll be pleasant, Colonel.”

Pretending he doesn’t see the doubtful look Everett shoots his way, they start walking towards the Infirmary.

 

* * *

 

Putting a finger to her lips, TJ gestures for them to come away from where his twin is a motionless blanket covered lump on a gurney, Greer on guard duty. They meet her on the other side of the Infirmary.

TJ speaks in a hushed tone. “He’s exhausted, Colonel. There’s no reason to wake him up right now, is there? He came to briefly and said it would be hours before we might see the other Destiny, if it’s not destroyed yet.”

Everett glances at him, and he shakes his head. To be honest, it will be a relief to put off talking to the bast-- his twin.

“You did a DNA test?” Everett says, looking over at Rush’s twin. Thanks to Destiny’s advanced technology, now that the Master Code unlocked their access, such a test only takes minutes.

“I did. He’s Rush.” TJ gives Rush a sympathetic look. “He’s got lacerations, bruises, burns but he refused to let me treat him, then he passed out again. I’ll clean him up after he’s got more sleep.” She turns to Everett. “He was pretty distraught, sir. He asked for you.”

Her words send a chill through Rush. His twin isn’t going to have rights to Everett. He’s no inclined to work out some sort of custody agreement, with him sleeping with Everett on odd days and his twin on even days.

Everett waves a hand towards the man on the gurney and quietly tells TJ to wake him in two hours or if he comes to sooner, to call him, Rush, Colonel Telford and Camile to come to the Infirmary to question him.

“Colonel,” TJ says, “As Chief Medical Officer, I’m not going to allow anyone to come in and try to bother him before then. Anyone,” she repeats. “Perhaps you could let the people most inclined to do so know about that?” She directs a knowing look Rush’s way, and he feels a bit lost because he certainly isn’t going to move their agenda up.

“I’ll not do that,” he says, feeling a bit confused.

“It’s not you I’m thinking of, Dr. Rush,” TJ says, still looking pointedly at him.

“I’ll take care of it, TJ,” Everett promises. “Dr. Rush, I can’t help but notice you’re missing your radio. Give me a moment and we’ll go get it.”

Christ, he’s never going to hear the end of it about the damn radio. He rolls his eyes, shoots a quick glance at his twin, still dead to the world. “I’ll be out there,” and indicates the corridor.

When Everett joins him he raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

“I called David and made it my order, too, for him not to show up in the Infirmary early. He and TJ have some history about stuff like that. She doesn’t want a yelling match that would wake up your twin.”

“Why was she giving me those looks?” Rush asks and starts jogging down the corridor to Everett’s quarters. He thinks that’s where he left his radio. Everett keeps pace with him.

“I’m pretty sure that TJ knows about your former relationship with David.”

Rush stops dead, and grabs Everett’s arm. “I never told her, did you?”

“Nope. But she’s very astute and she notices things about people. He left some marks on you, didn’t he? I heard he’d done something to you in the Mess, after that thing with Caine? People talked. She probably heard and figured it out.”

Fuck. Nothing stays private on this ship for long. David had touched him in the Mess, brought him back from where his mind had drifted off to, but it had been the touch of a lover, not a shipmate. That night he’d marked Rush’s neck. He sighs. “I suppose.”

“Well, she’s not going to let David bother her patient.” Everett starts walking and Rush hurries to catch up.

He’s feeling jealous of himself. All of this is so strange, and a wave of wildness washes through him, of recklessness. David had put his mark on Rush back then. It’s given him an idea.

He pounces as soon as they enter Everett’s quarters. He pulls at Everett’s clothes, then gives that up and throws his arms around Everett’s neck, standing on his tiptoes to suck on the soft skin there, to leave a mark that will let his twin know that Everett is his.

Everett is making startled sounds and he wraps his hands around Rush’s wrists, breaks Rush’s hold and pushes him away from him a bit. “Nick, what the hell?” Rush tries to surge forward again but Everett is stronger than him. He could fight dirty, but that wouldn’t help him accomplish his goal.

“C’mon, Young. We’ve waited long enough to do this. Let’s fuck.” He tries to pull his wrists free, but Everett’s not having it.

“Slow down, Romeo. Why like this, why right now?” He’s looking at Rush with that expression that means he’s going to get to the bottom of this. Fuck, fuck, fuck, the man is like a bloodhound that won’t give up the scent when he’s got that look on his face. He’s not going to get any sex from his infuriating lover until he explains himself. Fuck. He doesn’t want to talk, because he knows he’ll sound petty and mean.

He makes an attempt to distract Everett into forgetting the Spanish Inquisition, even though he’s pretty sure it will be futile. He’s probably insane to even try.

“You can do anything to me that you want. Tie me down, gag me, put me over your knee, I’ll let you do it and for all those times you wanted so badly to control me, you can have your revenge. I’ll suck you, you can fuck me. Just do it, but do it now. Please.” His breathing has become very fast and there are tears starting to well up. He sounds like such a whore; Simeon would laugh in delight if he could have heard him.

Everett swallows hard, and his eyes dilate. For one small moment, Rush thinks that it’s working, that Everett will pull him over to the bed and do all those things Rush just blurted out. He’ll let him, he’s let others do worse.

“No dice, sport,” Everett says. “Now you want to tell me what’s going on? Don’t try to bullshit me. I know it’s about your twin.”

Rush shakes his head, presses his lips together hard. He screws his eyes shut, to keep his damned tears from escaping.

Everett makes a soothing sound. “Okay, I get it. You don’t want to say it. So I’ll say it for you. You’re afraid you’re going to lose me to your twin. You don’t want to share. You don’t want him taking your place on this ship.”

Rush freezes, and his eyes fly back open. He quickly looks down at the floor and tries to control his breathing. He’s not having a panic attack, he refuses to have one.

Everett is relentless though. “You know that’s unkind and you feel disgusted with yourself about it, but you still feel that way. So you figure that us having sex first – because I’m pretty sure there was no time for your twin and the other Everett to do that – will give you the home field advantage. And you want reassurance that I still want you, because your twin, he’s vulnerable and he needs more help right now than you do, and you’re afraid that makes him more attractive to me than you are.”

Tears start flowing and he wants to cross his arms over his chest, but he can’t, because Everett is still holding his wrists. He stares resolutely at the floor.

Everett is fucking unrelenting because he keeps going on. “And maybe, someday, we’ll play those kind of games you just spouted off, but you don’t want that now, Nick. You’re doing the distract with sex thing again.”

“So if you don’t want me, just let me go, Colonel.” He sounds defeated to his own ears. Miserable. “You’re not wrong, with all of that.”

Everett shakes his head. “I didn’t say I didn’t want you, Nick. I do, of course I do. But let’s have our first time be for the right reasons, okay?”

He slumps his shoulders, still not looking at Everett, hoping his tears will go unnoticed. “After we deal with this business of the other Destiny, I suppose.” He tries again to pull his wrists free, deciding he’ll get the damn radio and go to the Control Interface Room. “I’ll do some work, all right? Just let me get the fucking radio.”

Everett raises Rush’s left wrist, brings it to his lips and brushes a soft kiss across his knuckles. “You can leave the radio right where it’s at. Would you come to my bed, Nicholas Rush? Because I want you, and I think now that we’ve cleared the air, we’ll be good.”

He shrugs his shoulders, looks up and Everett lets go of one wrist, uses his fingers to clean away the tears on his cheeks.

“Come to bed, Nick.” Everett says it softly, and he smiles at Rush. “I kind of liked your kamikaze style. Jump me like that another time, okay?” He lets go of Rush’s other wrist, slides his hand into Rush’s, warm and inviting. “I want you, but if you want to wait, we can do that.”

Choices. Everett’s giving him choices, and so what does he want?

He takes a moment to explore just that. He’s talked with Telford, and they’d been waiting for that to happen. He’s driven himself crazy with touching Everett and stopping for the last few days. He’s wanted more, much more, and now he can have it; Everett is offering.

He steps forward and places his free hand behind Everett’s neck, yanking him down into a heated kiss. Everett takes over when he stops to breathe, pulling him to the bed so fast he almost stumbles.

There’s no more words between them, just warm hands and lips and clothes tossed on the floor and cool air on bare skin, but that’s not why he’s shivering. They stand there near the bed and Everett’s tongue is doing marvelous things to the rim of his ear, to his nipples and back to his mouth. Everett’s hands are swooping down his spine, caressing his ass.

He feels like a treasure that Everett is mapping out, and the man is being relentless again, but Rush can take it, or maybe he can’t because Everett is being so fucking slow, intent on touching every part of him, except his dick, and it’s driving him wild.

He’s trying to return the favor, but he keeps getting distracted and losing the plot, and helpless sounds are spilling from him.

Shivering, he plasters himself to Everett’s naked chest, and enjoys the warmth of his body and that his erection has made contact with Everett’s skin. He shoves a hand down between their bodies, intent on wrapping his hand around their dicks, but Everett fucking Young puts a stop to that.

“Cold?” Everett murmurs, and before he knows it, the blankets are pulled back from the bed and Everett scoops him up and places him in the middle of it.

Everett lies down next to him and arranges blankets so he’s cocooned on one side by them and by Everett on the other. Everett starts a slow trail of kisses down his belly, inching downwards until he’s at Rush’s dick. He glances up, asking permission with his eyes and Rush nods, feeling a little put out that he can’t touch Everett’s dick right now, because he wants to feel it heavy in his hands. It becomes a moot point when Everett’s hot mouth engulfs him and he arches his back, because Jesus Fucking Christ, that’s amazing.

He shuts his eyes tight, then opens them again because he needs to see that this is Everett, not David, that the hands touching him are not Kiva’s or any of the Lucians.

He doesn’t come, but it’s a near thing. He’s pulling at Everett’s shoulder, his hair, and Everett lets Rush’s dick slide out of his mouth. “Me, touch,” he stumbles out, in between pants, because he’s so close, so close and Everett understands and lays half on top of him and wraps their hands around their dicks and starts a slow, excruciating slide up and down.

He comes first, of course he does, because Everett had given him such a head start and it’s marvelous and he feels ecstatic and wonderful and he wants to say Everett’s name, but he fucking can’t say it. Not until his orgasm has ended, not until Everett’s tensing up, and his face is grimacing and then he stumbles out “Everett” and when Everett’s eyes turn to him, he says, “Colonel Young” and that does it, Everett’s hand falters and it’s his hand that’s pulling Everett’s orgasm from him.

They are a mess but Rush doesn’t care, he slides into a deep sleep, barely feeling Everett pulling up the blankets around them and fishing for something on the floor.

* * *

He could have slept for hours more, but Everett had set an alarm and so they’re up and having a quick wash before redressing and hustling down to the Infirmary.

Everett’s neck has a blotchy red mark, and Rush is not sorry about it, not one bit.

David is waiting for them at the Infirmary door, and Camile, too. She looks tired, weary, and her eyes are a bit on the swollen side, and red. She’s been crying then. She has a love on Earth, he knows.

Looking him up and down, and then doing the same to Everett, Rush can tell when David spots the hickey on Everett. His mouth tightens and he glances away.

Everett gives Rush a long look that makes him want to squirm, and he resolves not to make Everett regret letting him be here and yes, he’ll be civil to his twin. TJ opens the door and lets them in. His twin is sitting up on the gurney, half of a power bar from TJ’s medicinal stash is sitting on the bedside table, a container of what he’s sure isn’t water beside it. He should know. He’s had enough of her home made electrolyte drink forced down his own throat.

Rush feels a spasm of sympathy for his twin. The stuff is absolutely horrid.

TJ gives a little speech, something that he tunes out, but is probably a warning not to stress out his twin. His twin looks at him, and he seems vulnerable and wary, so fucking tired, then shuts his eyes, and it’s so something he would do, that wanting to shut out the world for a few seconds so others don’t see his hurt, or fear, before he can mask it.

God, this is so strange. He resolves though to not act like a jackass to the poor bastard. He’s not going to have a ‘Come to Jesus’ talk with him about his place on this ship. At least, not now. After all, he let his ship be destroyed. He’s got no rights to this one, but they’ll work something out. God knows he could use the help with the Science Team and he’s starting to see the advantages of foisting a lot of the work with the others off on his twin.

Well, maybe they could take turns. He won’t subject the poor man to Volker every day.

TJ picks up the drink and puts it in his twin’s hand, and gives him an order to drink it down entirely or he’ll be getting an IV. He can see that his twin wants to argue with her, but TJ is not kidding. He catches his twin’s eyes and shakes his head. His twin makes a face, and gulps it down. Aye, that’s the best way to do it, get the unpleasantness over with quickly.

TJ begins treating his twin’s cuts and scrapes, while he tells them what happened after their time line diverged. So he did give a speech to the crew and quite a few chose to stay with him and Everett. Eli and Ginn, Brody and Volker. Park and Greer, Chloe and Matthew. James and Becker, too. There’s a complicated feeling growing inside of him, gratitude and warmth and others he’s not able to name but it makes him want to catch hold of Everett’s hand. Perhaps this is what other people mean when they tell each other that they’ve got their backs.

David makes a snorting sound, and his twin narrows his eyes. He says, “Aye, yes, you were no in favor of that, David, with having anyone stay behind. Said that you’d a mind to force us all to go, but Everett put a stop to you press ganging the lot of us into the stargate.” His twin stops then with a wince and hold himself very still, while TJ finishes cleaning a nasty gash on his cheek.

Rush makes an attempt at defusing the tension, joking about repeating the time loop until the ship is filled with replications of himself, “At least I’ll have someone, or someones, intelligent to talk to.”

His twin levels a scorching glare at him for his poor attempt at levity, Everett raises his eyebrows, and David watches his twin like the fucking predator he can be.

Everett asks, “How did you get those burns?” His twin’s hands are covered with them, and there are burned places on his shirt and trousers.

“The consoles were sparking, some of them blowing up. The ship was exploding, one area after the other, when it all went wrong.” His twin looks and sounds so desolate, and Rush can just picture the destruction. Destiny, after so many years of wandering the universe, destroyed because nobody believed him when he said it was dangerous to dial the gate while in the star. Morons and idiots. He quite feels like Cassandra with her derided prophecies.

“Dr. Rush,” Everett says, and it’s plain Everett means his twin, although they both look to him. Rush doesn’t much like the empathy and concern he hears in Everett’s voice, although, yes, he knows he should be nicer about any attention paid to his twin. “When did things go wrong?”

So his twin explains how at first the readings were good, and how David walked through the stargate. But before the rest started filing through, the blue of the event horizon began flickering and Eli and he and Brody worked to stabilize it. The energy pouring through for the gate had backlashed while it was unstable and systems all over the ship started going down. Destiny was being torn apart, and he, he saw it was hopeless and if they stayed on board they all would die. He shouted it to Everett, for them all to go and they rushed through in a panic and TJ stepped aside, with Carmen in her arms, and he thought it was because she feared her babe would be trampled in the panic. Everett ran to his side, while he ordered Brody and Eli to get the fuck out of there, he would hold it together.

His twin’s voice becomes deadened; he curls his fists, hampering TJ’s attempts to clean and salve and bandage the worst of his burns.

“Eli and Brody ran through the gate, at the tail end of the crowd and Everett told me to come, he wasn’t leaving me behind. But I couldn’t go. If I left the controls, if I didn’t keep on top of it, the event horizon would go unstable again. Likely it would anyway in less than a minute. I screamed at him to go, to take Carmen and TJ and go. I made him understand why I couldn’t leave. He ran for the gate and TJ and they threw themselves through. Seconds later everything blew up in my face and the gate malfunctioned; I lost the event horizon for good.”

Things are dead quiet in the Infirmary as TJ takes scissors and cuts the other Rush’s shirt off. She has to, blood and the burns have stuck the fabric to him. Pulling it off would have been painful. She begins soaking the stuck pieces loose, and his twin shudders, and Rush is sure it’s from memories of that frantic stampede through the gate.

David starts a slow clap. “Bravo, you’re a hero. Except I don’t buy it, Rush. You’ve pulled this stunt before and I fell for it then, I’m not falling for it again. Tell the truth, what the hell did you do to sabotage the dialing? Backfired though, didn’t it? You got rid of me, and then when the gate, ‘malfunctioned’ you expected Everett to cancel everyone’s tickets home. Instead, what ever you did made the ship blow up, and I take it you checked, nobody made it to Earth. You’re a mass murder, Rush. I’m going to see you’re brought up on charges.”

His twin shakes his head. “One person made it to Earth. You, or rather, your earlier self. I used the stones to find out, hoping they’d all made it. Only you, you son-of-a-bitch!” His voice starts climbing until he’s practically screaming. “I told you there were problems with dialing while in a star! I did my best to stop it, but I fucking didn’t make the gate go unstable! This is on you, on your pushing for it so hard! It’s on you, that they’re all dead!!”

His twin turns to Everett. “Colonel Young, please, please believe me! Don’t try to dial Earth. I know we’ve passed the star by now, but please don’t turn the ship around and try it again.”

His twin turns to him. “Nick, tell them that we, you, oh fuck it, ‘Dr. Rush’ did not set up any such sabotage. Ask Eli and Brody, Volker, Ginn, Park, they can check this Destiny’s code. I, you, we didn’t cause this to happen! You know we didn’t do it.”

Rush is furious with David for casting such blame on them, although he, too, has a niggling doubt. He hadn’t done anything, of course, but in the time shortly before the gate was dialed, would he have mucked with the systems? But why? They’d had their volunteers. He isn’t the only one angry though, because TJ in her most professional voice throws David out of the Infirmary for agitating her patient. He leaves, Camile too, with permission to use the stones.

His twin is shaking. Everett goes to him and puts a hand on the back of his neck, says something to him softly, then wraps a blanket around him. Rush feels torn because he doesn’t want Everett to comfort his twin, and yet in his gut, he wants to see the man comforted. He was him, less than a day ago.

He says, to Everett, to his twin, “There is no sabotage. I’ve not done anything to disrupt the gate. What we did before, well, it took half the Science Team to pull it off and it was just bells and whistles. If David and his team had stuck around and checked it out, they’d have realized that.”

TJ heads to the door, saying something about getting more salve made, and asking Everett to stay and keep an eye on Dr. Rush. She’ll be off to pick some fresh plants, then.

His twin says Everett’s name again and leans against him. He feels his stomach turn over because Everett is letting him. Everett glances at him and holds out a hand. He crosses to him and Everett pulls him against him on his other side.

“We’re going to work this out,” Everett says firmly. “We’re all adults. We can figure this out, just, let’s give it some time.”

He has a feeling that the expression on his twin’s face mirrors the one on his own.

* * *

“Sir,” TJ says, with a glance towards his sleeping twin, “he should stay here, get more rest. He’s been through a lot.” But Rush can tell from her tone of voice that she’s open to changing her mind. When TJ is adamant about something pertaining to her authority as their medical officer, she’s no shy about making it clear. She’s not telling them she’s forbidding his twin to go to the other Destiny on the scavenging mission they’ve all agreed upon. Everett shoots him a look that says he’s aware.

“Dr. Rush, your opinion?” Everett tosses the responsibility for this right to him.

Rush eyes his twin, who’s currently napping on a gurney. His twin had been advocating for his inclusion on the trip to Destiny, if the ship has survived. He’s argued that he’s the most familiar with what’s happened there, where the damages lie.

That’s not why he wants to go. Rush has only to think about he would feel in his twin’s shoes and he knows he would need the closure being back there would bring. He’ll want to lay his hand against the ship and grieve for those he’s lost. Oh, he’ll mask it by burying himself in work, but Rush knows.

And, quite honestly, since he’s the best qualified to make decisions about stripping the other Destiny of her tech, having his twin along would certainly make the process go twice as fast. They’ll not have much time, if their calculations are correct. All hands on deck are needed.

“He’s coming,” Rush says decisively. “We won’t be there that long, and we can use him. He can catch back up on the rest of his sleep afterward.”

“TJ?” Everett tosses the ball back to her and she frowns, then nods. Everett glances over at his twin, and his expression softens. “Dr. Rush, get to the gate room. TJ and I’ll bring your twin in a few minutes. Colonel Telford’s in charge, so clear what your mission objectives are with him.”

Everett will be overseeing things from the gate room. TJ will be there as well, in case of casualties. She’s already sent up a load of first aid supplies.

Brody and Volker and Park are instructing the teams assigned to them on what routine parts to gather. He and his twin will be assessing the more complicated systems for potential salvage. Eli and Ginn will be downloading what information they can from the systems.

He checks his radio, yes, charged and working, and looks up to see Everett is right there. There’s an amused look on his face that makes Rush narrow his eyes.

“Something to say, Colonel?” he asks, then wishes he hadn’t because Everett grins even wider before gathering him against him and giving him a hearty smack on the lips.

“Just giving you some positive reinforcement about checking your radio.” Rush rolls his eyes, because, honestly, Everett can be so ridiculous sometimes. He’s a mind to tell him so when Everett kisses him again, a long slow passionate kiss that is a promise for a later time, when their duties to the ship don’t take priority. “Be careful out there,” Everett says quietly, and kisses him a third time, on the forehead, like a benediction, a blessing, and pulls him close in a tight hug.

He doesn’t say anything, because his throat is tight, just wraps his arms around Everett, and suddenly thinks of Gloria, of how she’d say similar things when he had to tussle with university bureaucracy.

Everett turns him loose, and his face feels hot. His eyes dart around the room, but TJ, thank God, has her back turned to them, busy pulling more things out of a supply closet. His twin, though, his eyes are open and watching them, and he feels guilty, like he’s just kissed a man married to another, and that is so fucked.

His twin rolls over and puts his back to the two of them. Everett notices, and sighs. “Go,” he says. “Later, we’ll deal with, um, all of us. Nick, it’s going to be okay. I promise, it’s going to be all right.”

* * *

He and his twin are the last to enter the stargate and emerge on his twin’s Destiny. They’d jumped a short distance away so that the stargates could connect, and the kinos sent had reported back terrible damage, but breathable air for at least half the of the areas they’d inhabited. There is only an estimated half hour of time before Destiny is too close to the star.

David sends out the teams with clear, concise orders and stresses the need for safety. Parts may be replicated, due to the manufactory, but their people can not.
He and his twin, with a few short words muttered back and forth before stepping through the gate, have decided they aren’t going to open their own personal can of worms now, that the work must come first. It’s their way, has been since they were small lads.

They each lead their own teams, tearing through the Control Interface Room, designating what’s to be be taken, and then his twin heads to the Bridge, while he access the main power station. His twin joins him there and they send the last of their minions laden down with essential parts back to the gate room.

Telford’s voice comes through the intercom system. “Pack it up, people. The gate is open, head through as soon as you check in with Lieutenant Scott.”

His twin is staring at the large power console, half burned out, yes, but the other half is good. His twin says, “It would increase our weapons ability twice over,” and starts unlatching the locks to remove the protective grate.

“We’ve not the time, nor the tools,” Rush says, but when his twin rolls his eyes and just keeps on working, he calls Brody and tells him to leave his tools at the gate room.

“I’ll run and fetch them, and that’s 1000 volts passing through there,” Rush says, as he turns to dash off.

Exasperated, his twin mutters back, “Do you think I might know that, then?”

Of course his twin knows the ship as well as he does himself. He trusts him not to be stupid, but it’s going to cut things very close to salvage that part. He runs as fast as he’s ever done, and practically bowls over Lieutenant Scott, who’s standing in the doorway with Brody’s bag of specialized tools. There are bulging tied up sheets and boxes and people shoving themselves and their booty through the gate.

Greer waves at Scott. “I got this, sir. Run your ass off and get back here ASAP.”

Scott grabs his arm and they start running back to where he left his twin. “Colonel Telford heard you and Brody, he’ll meet us there, too. Brody said without his tools you can’t safely disconnect that power relay.”

He’s too out of breath to speak back to Scott, but nods his head. It’s very close to the time to evacuate the ship, although there are a few extra minutes they’d allowed for. The gate room should be empty by the time they return.

They have to duck several kinos whizzing by returning to the gate room. Eli had sent out a number of them to record Destiny’s immolation and recalled all the rest from his workroom on this Destiny to add to his collection.

He skids into the power relay station, reaching for the bag of tools Scott is carrying, and then stumbles to a halt.

“Oh, God!” Scott breathes out, panting. “What?”

Rush drops to his knees beside the two men lying together on the floor. The console is sparking and snapping, and part of his brain analyzes that the part is useless now and that it will be safe to touch them. They aren’t in contact now with the part. 1000 volts, 1000 volts keeps running through his mind uselessly.

He rolls Telford off his twin, and sees the bulging eyes on both of them, smells the electrocuted flesh. He checks for pulses. David, David is dead. His twin is dead. They died together, some sort of accident and he would have known not to be careless, so his twin would have known but he’s dead.

A sense of relief floods him because now there will no competition for Everett’s love, and he hates himself for feeling it. God, he’s such a bastard, such a pitiful excuse for a human being. What does Everett see in him anyway, what did Mandy, what did Gloria?

David just thought he was pitiful.

He reaches down and closes their eyelids because he can’t stand seeing the accusing looks David and his twin are leveling at him.

Scott yanks him up, his face grim. “Run,” he yells. “We can’t do anything for them. Run!” He pulls out his radio and he must be telling Greer what happened, that there will only be the two of them to return.

They run helter-skelter back to the Stargate, and Greer is standing there, one arm disappeared into the event horizon. They dive into it and end up rolling on the floor of the gate room; Greer steps through, looking down at them.

“What the hell happened, sir?” Greer asks Scott, and Rush isn’t going to wait to hear him tell of what they found.

Everett calls his name, waves him to come over, but he shakes his head.

Instead, he runs to the Bridge. Their long range scanners and video will be trained on his twin’s Destiny. He owes it to him to see this through.

Silently, ignoring any fool who tries to talk to him, Eli, Volker, he watches as the other Destiny slips into the star, his heart beating fast, his hands clenching and unclenching.

When she’s finally gone, he realizes that Everett is standing behind him, hands on his shoulders.

“You’re okay, genius,” Everett says quietly, so only he would hear, and squeezes the tight muscles. “You need some time, need to go to my quarters or yours?”

He shakes his head, takes a deep breath. “We should go back through the star, fill up our power reserves.”

“Okay. You want to stay here, keep tabs on the refueling? We’re gonna have to talk about what you and Scott saw, but it can wait.”

“Yes, I’ll stay.” He leans back against Everett for a long moment, feeling guilty that his twin will never be able to do the same, before heading to one of the consoles.

“Eli,” he hears Everett say. “Come with me.”

It’s much later when Everett finds him on the observation deck, having turned over his station to Park.

He’s staring into the fieriness of the star. It won’t blind him, thanks to the Ancients and their clever ways. He wonders if any of the ascended Ancients witnessed his twin’s Destiny’s destruction.

Perhaps even now they’re watching them, laying bets on whether the jumped up apes controlling the ship will destroy Destiny again.

“Nick,” Everett says, and pulls him to sit down on a couch, puts an arm around him.

They’re alone, and he’s not sure if word of his mood has spread and the crew have wisely decided to not encroach upon him, or Everett has ordered the observation deck off limits. He’s quite sure Park notified him when he left the Bridge.

He rests his head on Everett’s shoulder and tries very hard not to think about anything except the play of colors against the shield, all tinted red and orange and purple and yellow by the star.

* * *

Chapter 34: Requiem

Frantic mumbling and desperate sounds wake Everett up again. God, Nick is having another nightmare. He knows better than to lay his hands on his bed partner. If he does Nick will come out of his dream swinging. He’s not surprised Nick is trapped with bad dreams tonight, not after seeing David’s and his twin’s dead bodies.

“Nick,” he calls loudly, watching in the dim light for any punches coming his way. “Genius, wake up.” He uses his loudest, command style voice, and Nick abruptly sits up in bed, eyes flying open.

“Fuck,” he slurs. “Wha’ happened? Under attack?” He shakes his head a little, as if that will clear out the cobwebs. “Colonel?” He starts to pull back the covers, slides one foot down to the floor before Everett reaches out to him and touches his shoulder.

“Not under attack, Nick. You were having another nightmare.”

Nick scrubs his hands over his face. “Fuck, sorry, sorry. Look, I’ll go back to my room, let you get some sleep.” He sounds shaky to Everett. This was the third nightmare.

“Would you stay here? I’d rather be around to wake you up out of those dreams. Do you want that green drink I brought from the Infirmary?” He’d gotten some from TJ before going to find Nick where he’d holed up on the observation deck. He’d had a feeling Nick might need it, but he’d refused it so far.

Nick doesn’t like to have to rely on anything. He considers his nightmares about the shitty things that had happened to him as some kind of weakness.

Making a face, Nicks sighs. “Yes, all right, fine.” He slides out of bed and heads into the bathroom. He won’t want to talk about what he saw in his nightmare, not tonight. Tomorrow, he might. Tomorrow, he may open up about his twin’s death. And David’s, even though David from the earlier timeline is safe on Earth.

Upon returning, Nick picks up the tumbler and eyes it with disdain, then drinks it down rapidly. He crawls back into the bed and Everett gathers him up. His skin feels cool, slightly damp, but he smells clean. He’d wiped off the sweat from the nightmare.

“Talk about somethin’,” Nick orders, sounding a bit bossy. It’s kind of endearing, since he’s naked and plastered up against him. “Somethin’ about you.”

“Okay,” he says, “give me a minute.” He’s quiet, thinking about his life, deciding now was not the time to include anything about Emily or other lovers. Something peaceful or maybe funny.

He chuckles, and says, “Let me tell you about my cowboy days.”

* * *

Sleepily, Nick asks, “The ranch you grew up on in Idaho, is it still in the family?”

“Yeah. My oldest brother and his wife took it over. I was a change of life baby, much to my mother’s surprise. The rest of my brothers are a lot older than me.” Michael’s oldest daughter and her family would be the next generation to run the ranch.

Nick makes a murmuring sound. Honestly, Everett doesn’t know how he’s still awake. Everett had regaled Nick with his history of being in 4-H since he was ten years old and the times he’d spent at local rodeos and county fairs doing barrel races and pole bending and his short lived teenaged career riding bulls. He could feel Nick smiling against his chest from time to time as he told of his wins and some spectacular losses involving flying through the air before sticking the landing. At least he’d only ended up with bruises in interesting places, no broken bones. He’d stopped competing when he was seventeen, when he’d decided upon a career in the Air Force.

He wonders if Nick has even sat on a horse. “Hey, buckaroo, you ever do any horseback riding?”

Yawning, Nick makes a noise that’s negative sounding.

Everett runs his fingers through Nick’s hair, enjoys the texture. “I bet you’d be good at it. Back in the Old West, you might have been one of the Pony Express riders. They wanted guys who were agile and light.”

Nick snorts. “Aye, because I’m little, that’s what you’re saying.” He sounds annoyed. How he could have ever reached past the age of forty without realizing that, Everett has no clue, but apparently seeing his twin had really brought that home for Nick.

“Sure. Easier on the horse, but those riders had to have nerves of steel, and be tough as nails. That’s you, buddy.”

“Awful lot of metal in your example. Next you’ll be saying I’m fast as a bullet.”

“That works. And why aren’t you sound asleep yet?”

“Lieutenant Johansen’s witches’ brew tasted a wee bit weak this time. I’ll be sure to let her know,” Nick grumbles.

“I’ve never heard you call her TJ,” Everett says, thinking back.

“She worked hard for her rank. Why wouldn’t I respect that?” Nick says, yawning again.

“She wouldn’t mind.” He thinks about how Nick had so frequently referred to himself by his doctorate. Was that his way of demanding respect?

“If she tells me she’d prefer her nickname, I would do as she asks.” Nick nestles against him, obviously tired, but still restless.

“You introduce yourself as a doctor and with your full name. You’ve had trouble with people respecting you?”

Nick sighs. “How are you so good at this, this thing you do?”

“Figuring out stuff about you? I’m interested in you. Even when we were at odds with each other, I found you fascinating.”

“You found me a pain in your arse. ‘A lot of work,’ I believe,” Nick complains, but there’s no heat in his tone.

“Toe-may-toe, Tah-mah-tow. But who used to not show you respect? Is that still happening?”

Nick is silent for a long time. If he hadn’t tensed up against Everett, he would have thought he’d finally dropped off.

“Those who fancied themselves my better. I looked wrong, I sounded wrong, and I’d be challenged so many fucking times to prove I had the right to be there. University, posh neighborhoods, even the fuckin’ library as a wee lad. And yeah, when I joined the program, I’d get those doubting looks, pointed questioning. Andrew Covel, the head of Scientific Research, manages to insinuate I’ve moved above my station whenever I have to be in his presence. I’ve been a fish out of water, Everett.”

“What about here and on Icarus?”

“Not so much. I’ve brought some of that on myself for the tricks I’ve played, and I’ll own it. Senator Armstrong, he doubted my qualifications, wasn’t shy about voicing it, either. He made me feel like I was just a jumped up Glasgow punk with no right to be involved with the most marvelous discovery of our times.”

“That why you didn’t want to eat dinner with us, that last night on Icarus?” He’d just thought Dr. Rush was being a prima donna and an idiot to boot, like taking out forty-five minutes to eat was being a slacker. But thinking back, he’s realizing Nick wasn’t exaggerating. There had been a lot of sneering directed toward Dr. Nicholas Rush to his face, and a lot more behind his back. Even though Nick had been mostly polite, although, honestly, there had always been a ‘fuck you’ attitude embedded within his civility. He may have sounded polite, but it was pretty clear it was only an act.

He thought about how a lot of the Icarus staff were gleeful that Eli and not Dr. Rush had solved the dialing problem, but decided Nick had brought that on himself by acting like a jackass half of the time. He knew Scott and Greer had thought that way. From comments he’d picked up from Greer and some of the others, they’d thought Dr. Rush was a rich snob who looked down on the men and women who’d joined the military to make a better life for themselves.

Irony, really. Nick had probably grown up rougher than most of crew. Greer, maybe Nick and Greer were on the same page about abusive childhoods.

Nick hadn’t been trying to make friends at the SGC and Icarus, though, that had been clear. Although somehow Daniel Jackson and Amanda Perry had managed to break through his grief and isolation to become close.

Nick sighs, sounding troubled. “Mmm. Not wanting to break bread with your honored guests and staff. . . Well, I was feeling a strong sense of urgency to get the dialing problem resolved, but I quite lost my appetite when I watched you lot when Becker made me up a supper packet. I left it with him. I’d have been the odd one out again, if I’d joined the dinner party.”

So he landed on Destiny with probably not eating since the day before, since he doubted driven Dr. Rush had taken the time to do so while he and O’Neill picked Eli up from Earth.

No sleep, very little food, caffeine and nicotine withdrawals, a long hike with limited water through desert heat, no wonder Nick had collapsed a few days after they’d all tumbled through the stargate. And Nick had volunteered to go to the desert planet to look for the mineral they needed. Everett had let him, with some idea of testing his mettle. David had a point with saying that wasn’t a good command decision.

“People considered me Gloria’s bit of rough on the side, and expected her to drop me after having her fun. Her friends and family were shocked when she married me. Fuckers.” Nick was sounding less sleepy and more pissed.

This conversation is not helping Nick relax and fall asleep. It’s important to hear Nick’s feelings about being underestimated and discounted, but they both need some sleep. Time to try something else.

“Nick, those guys were short sighted idiots. I hope I never came across as treating you that way,” Everett says.

“No. Ummm. . . you seemed to see me as an adversary, but a competent one. Wary of me, and suspicious, but not because I should have stayed in the Glasgow slums. You didn’t trust me or my decisions, but you never looked at me like I was your social inferior. So thanks for that, Everett,” Nick says, his tone wry.

He starts making slow rhythmic movements up and down Nick’s back. “Hey, I’ve thought of something else you would have been good at, if you’d lived where I grew up.”

“An’ what’s that? I’m not brilliant at football, although I’m decent enough, but I’d be rubbish at American football. I bet you played it. Did your small town go all out for their high school heroes? Parades and cheerleaders and full stands of cheering citizens?” He sounds curious, not resentful to Everett.

“Football? You mean soccer, don’t you? I bet you’re fast and pure hell to play against. And yeah, I played American football in high school. Did all right. But I was thinking about the rodeo again. I bet you’d have been a great bull fighter.”

“Why on Earth would I want to prance around in a bloody fancy outfit with a cape and throw pointed weapons at a cow that’s done me no harm?” Nick says scornfully and sure enough, Everett sees that he’s rolling his eyes. “You’re daft, Young.”

“Not that kind of bull fighting. Maybe you know it by another name. Rodeo clown? Guy who wears outlandish loose clothes, sometimes with clown makeup?”

“For fuck’s sake, Everett. A clown?” Nick tries to roll away from him, after giving him a pointed shove with his elbow.

Oops, he thinks. “I’m complimenting you, and hold still, I’ll explain it better. I’m not making fun of you.”

“As if I would care. All right, let’s hear why you think I’d do well as a clown.” Nick lets him gather him up again, but he feels tense. Christ, he’s not doing very good with getting Nick to relax enough to go back to sleep.

“So I told you about bull riding. And it’s dangerous, and if the bull throws you, or you’ve jumped off, you’ve got a very large, angry animal that would like to make mincemeat out of you. And that’s where the bull fighters, or rodeo clowns come in.”

Soft blue light spills from the window and travels the walls. In its dim glow he can see Nick’s eyes close, then open, then close again.

Very quietly, he resumes his explanation. “They distract the bull, they put their lives on the line so that the cowboy can make it to safety. They make the bull come after them. Sometimes they jump into a special kind of barrel, so when the bull hits it, they aren’t hurt. Yeah, they wear kind of ridiculous clothes, but they’re meant to be able to come loose if the bull makes contact. So the bull fighter doesn’t get dragged along.” He can feel Nick soften against him, listening.

“You’re fast and agile, Nick. Plus you’ve got the attitude to face an animal like that and get it to come after you. The clown makeup is a distraction, really, so that the crowd doesn’t realize just how dangerous what the bull fighter is doing. But the bull riders and the cowboys, we know and we’re god damned thankful for the rodeo clowns. You’re brave, and reckless and confident as well. So that’s why I think you’d have been great at it.”

“So, you’re saying I have a talent for pissing off things that are larger and stronger than me, and making them want to attack.” Nick is fighting off a smile; Everett can tell from his tone of voice.

“Yep. I think the Nakai would agree with me. Most of the IOA, too.”

He chuckles then, and Everett resumes sweeping his hand up and down Nick’s back. His skin feels soft, nice. He hums a little, then stops when he realizes what he’s doing. Nick will think he’s an idiot.

“No, don’t stop,” Nick orders softly. “’s nice.”

So he hums old songs from his favorite play list, until Nick’s breathing slows into a pattern of deep sleep. Everett falls asleep then, and is not surprised when he wakes up in the morning to realize that he’s dreamed of Nick as a rodeo clown, taunting the Lucians and the Nakai, as he dodges and weaves around them, then races to hide down Destiny’s corridors.

* * *

He stays in bed for a while, warm and feeling lazy, debates seeing if Nick is interested in morning sex, but decides to let him sleep in instead. He’s still out like a light and considering the poor sleep he’d had most of the night, he needs to catch up.

So he showers, shaves, puts on his uniform, gathers up a load of dirty laundry in a net bag made from plants they’d gathered on a planet, and straightens up the room.

Nick sleeps on, curled on his side, but he’s pulled a pillow against him. Everett’s going to tease him later about using it a substitute for Everett.

The radio makes a cackle. “Colonel Young? This is Eli.” The volume is turned low, but before answering Everett takes the radio and steps quietly into the hallway.

“Young here.”

“You alone?” Eli says cautiously.

“Nick’s still asleep. I’m outside our quarters.” It feels good to describe his room that way.

“O-kaay, more information than I really wanted to think about, but I’ve got that umm, report ready you asked me to do. Not something I want to talk about over the radio. Do you want me to come down there? This, uh, isn’t the sort of thing you just want to show someone without some warning.”

“No, I’ll meet you in your workroom in fifteen. Young out.” He hooks his radio onto his belt and rubs a hand over his face, then quietly opens the door. He might as well drop off their laundry on the way to Eli’s kino workroom.

Nick’s not in bed and the bathroom door is closed. He knocks once on the door, cracks it and says, loudly, “Hey, genius. I’m taking the dirty laundry with me. You can borrow my clothes.”

“All right,” Nick says sleepily.

“We need to talk, you know. About yesterday.”

“Do we? What’s the point? He died and I lived. Just another one of the many Stargate Command aberrations, yes?” He hears Nick brushing his teeth, and debates stepping inside and trying to get it through Nick’s thick head that he can’t just toss the death of, well, himself, the alternate crew, and Destiny down a hole and cover it up like it hadn’t happened. He’d learned the hard way himself that trauma shouldn’t be ignored. It always, always comes back to knock you flat, usually at the worst times.

But, he needs to leave. “I’ll see you later. Do me a favor and eat breakfast?”

“Yes, yes,” Nick says with that absent tone that means he’s off somewhere in his mind now.

He just shakes his head and decides to grab a snack from Becker to send to Nick later this morning.

He hits the door control, laundry slung over his shoulder, and raises his eyebrows to see Camile standing there, a fist poised to knock.

“Camile?” She looks tired.

“Colonel. I’ve reported in to the IOA early this morning.” She shrugs. “I couldn’t sleep. They want a full investigation into the other Destiny’s destruction and the death of Colonel Telford and Dr. Rush.”

“Eli’s on it. I’m going to meet with him now. Do you want to come for a preview?”

“No, I, ah, I want to talk to Nicholas. I’m concerned about how he’s doing after finding his twin and Colonel Telford dead. That’s why I came here so early.” She looks at him with a steady gaze.

He gets it. Nick’s so good at dodging these kinds of talks. TJ never did get him to sit down for her psych assessment, back when they’d first come on board. So he applauds her strategy, but he’s not going to let her blindside Nick. He’ll tell him she’s here and see if he’ll agree to talk to her. If not, she can try again later, but not here, not in their home. Nick should feel safe here.

“Camile, you can stay--” She nods and tries to step past him, but he touches her on the arm to halt her. “If Nick agrees. Wait out here.”

He shuts the door, not caring that it was rude. He goes to the dresser and pulls out clothing, then knocks again, cracks the bathroom door and asks if he can come in.

There’s a long pause. Just when he’s about to repeat himself, thinking Nick hadn’t heard him, Nick answers yes.

He pushes open the door and steps inside, places the clothes on a small bench. “Genius,” he starts, looking over at the shower, then slows down.

Nick is wet, his hair pushed back and he’s – God, he’s – . He can’t stop looking, because Nick’s beautiful, slender, just perfect really, the way the glistening mist condenses and slowly travels down his body. His eyes widen and his expression. . .

Then he remembers with a sick feeling how Nick had told him about how Koz had done what he’s doing now, and he jerks his eyes away, stares at the floor. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I brought you some clothes because Camile is here and wants to talk to you. I told her only if you wanted to talk now, and here in our place. I can tell her to try again later somewhere else. She just got back from reporting in to the IOA.”

Nick hasn’t moved, but Everett hears him take a deep breath, then another. Christ, he’s screwed this up. Being alone in the shower had been a sort of respite for Nick, he remembers, and now here he comes in gawking at him.

Nick sighs, turns off the spray. “She can stay. Might as well get it over with, the mandatory counseling effort. She’ll be dogging me the rest of the day if I put it off.”

“Okay, I’ll tell her. And Nick, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He deliberately takes on a light tone, but Everett isn’t fooled.

“You told me about Koz several times. I should have--”

“Oh stop.” Suddenly he’s got Nick, soaking wet, plastered against his uniform. “Did you want to keep looking then at me? I’m no sure why, but you’re not Koz and if you want to stare at me with those brown eyes of yours when I’m all skin and bones, it will be fine. I’ll be all right.”

He pulls Everett down into a kiss, a long, passionate melting of lips together, and reluctantly Everett gentles it till he can hold Nick out at arm’s length. He takes his time, looking him up and down, until a blush is flooding over Nick’s face.

“You don’t know why I would want to do this, Nicholas Rush? You’re beautiful, genius.” He takes the towel and wraps Nick up in it. “You sure you’re okay? You looked a little. . .” He waves his hand, as if trying to pantomime a deer caught in headlights and frozen before jumping away.

Nick glances down at the floor, stands very still. “I’ll admit I was a wee bit startled at first, but it’s different, with you.” He looks up at him, a flush on his cheeks. “Don’t look away next time, if you want to see me naked.”

“Naked and wet. It’s a great combination on you.” He pulls Nick back in again for a cheery smack on the lips. “I’ve got to go.”

Nick grins suddenly.“Yes, off with you.”

He figures out what that grin was about when he opens the door to let Camile inside; she looks at his uniform and puts a hand over her mouth to smother her smile.

Looking down at himself, he sees that he’s got a Nick shaped damp area from where Nick had hugged him so tightly.

“Umm,” he starts, his cheeks hot.

“I’m happy for you both, Colonel,” she says.

He picks up the dirty laundry again. “He’ll see you, but don’t expect much. He wouldn’t talk about it this morning.”

She nods, then puts a hand on his arm. “Colonel, about that IOA investigation. I won’t be heading it. Colonel Telford is in charge.”

Great. Just great. David and his politicking. “Okay. Good talk. I’ll let you know when we’ll ask him back up here.”

And won’t that be a fun reunion, he thinks, as he strides down the corridor towards the laundry room.

* * *

Eli is stretched out on the narrow bunk along the wall of what used to be his quarters/workshop. He’s staring at the ceiling, and doesn’t move when Everett enters the room. Kinos cover the counter and a monitor is set up on pause.

“Eli?” Everett says.

He’s not asleep; his eyes are open and there’s a bleak look on his face. “I miss the old days.”

“What?”

“The old days, when I thought Rush was just this rude asshole who only thought about himself. See, I had him all figured out, this jealous guy who couldn’t admit that I was smarter than him. A liar. Couldn’t trust him. Kept to himself, and good riddance, because obviously he wasn’t capable of love or friendship or even half-assed social interactions. Those times he took a stab at mentoring, well, obviously he was just trying to manipulate me. The guy had no honest emotions, he was a cold bastard.” Eli sits up abruptly.

“Trouble was, he kept doing things that were outliers from how I had him pegged and it was fricking confusing. Saving Chloe from the Nakai. Taking his name out of the lottery for the shuttle when we all thought Destiny would burn up in the star. How full of joy he was to have been wrong about that. How upset he was about Franklin frying his brain.”

Eli shuts his eyes for a moment. “Sometimes I really, really liked him, then he’d go and do something that pissed off everybody. And I figured my assessment was right, mostly.”

“Eli--” Everett says.

“No, let me say this. His actions, they weren’t outliers anymore. For crying out loud, volunteering to play spy with the Lucian Alliance. Him, a scientist, not a frickin’ soldier. Putting himself between me and Brody and Volker when the Lucians had about ten guns pointed at us.”

Everett wonders how long Eli had been holding all of this in. Christ, he dreads seeing what was on the kinos if it’s tipped Eli into venting like this.

“Then we all got to see just how human he was when he was on the table. Him, probably the most private person on the ship. We saw his tears, watched him bleed, got to see what shame and humiliation looked like on his face. We got to see that arrogance swap out for terror, see our least favorite asshole become so submissive he couldn’t even look Volker in the eyes.”

Eli stood up and went over to the monitor, waved at Everett to join him.

“Then I watched him defy the Alliance, even when he couldn’t say his own damn name. He saved Ginn; he saved my wife twice over. Dannic beat the crap out of him for distracting him away from her with a false alarm, not that Dannic realized it. He slammed Rush’s head down on the console over and over out of irritation, did you know that? Rush saved Lisa, and yeah, I know how he got Simeon to leave her mostly alone and rape him instead, so he had a shot of using that screwdriver he hides up his sleeve to take him down.”

He looks over at Everett, and a guilty look crosses his face. “Lisa had a bad day and told the Science Team, but I’d heard the gist of it earlier – the guys with Greer heard them talking-- well, Rush shouting about it -- when they went to find Simeon’s body.”

Gently, Everett says, “When you and I met him, he was grieving, Eli. He was lost and I never realized it till much, much later. But that doesn’t excuse him from the stunts he pulled, and he knows that. He wasn’t sorry, he just felt it was necessary to raise morale or get around barriers to understanding the ship. He’s rarely offered any excuses for his behavior, other than being in caffeine and nicotine withdrawal when he ranted himself into passing out. So stop kicking yourself, okay? You saw what he wanted you to see.”

Eli made a wry expression. “He said he didn’t tell us about the Bridge because he was afraid the Science Team would be so inept about the systems we’d blow ourselves up. We saw through that, though. That wasn’t why he kept it to himself for so long.”

Everett grasps Eli’s shoulder. “Bottom line is that he’s human; he’s made mistakes, he’s saved this crew. He has trouble trusting and opening up, he’s vulnerable and brilliant and when he does love you, he’s all in. He’s complicated, and he cares about you very much, Eli. If he’s tried to be a mentor to you, he was being honest about it.”

“Yeah. He’s made mistakes, and I’ve been so angry at him for them. When he sat in the neural interface chair so he could be with Dr. Perry and almost died, I was furious with him for taking such a risk. And now I’ve made a mistake that puts anything he did to shame. I’m responsible for the deaths of my friends, Ginn, and most of the crew, except Telford and Rush. He tried over and over to tell me that that unknown variables in dialing within a star were too risky, that it could be fatal. I tuned him out.”

Everett shook him gently. “No. You don’t need to take that on your shoulders, Eli. Your plan was vetted by the best minds in Star Gate Command. McKay signed off on it, after all. And the crew is fine.”

“This crew is fine. But watch what I’ve been looking at all night, and tell me then that the other crew’s deaths don’t matter.”

“Their deaths matter, Eli. I didn’t mean to imply that they didn’t matter. Rush, well, the other Rush made sure that their deaths saved us. We didn’t dial, and what happened in the earlier timeline, well, we all have to let that go.”

Eli shakes his head. “I don’t think I can. I don’t think you or anybody else who watches it will either.” Eli’s smile is sad, somehow, and he seems far removed from the exuberant boy Everett had first met. He’s matured, grown on this ship in ways that Everett doubts would ever have happened if he’d stayed in Boston, going from one unchallenging job to another, idling away his time with video games in his mother’s house.

“Then we’ll carry it with us, but Eli, you can’t let the weight of the past block you from living fully in the present. And I know, it’s easier to say that then to do it. It’s something Nick and I struggle with every day.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, Colonel. I hear you.” He motions to the bunk, and sits down in the only chair by the monitor. “I’ve edited out a lot of repetitive stuff for this presentation, but I’ve saved all the footage the kinos took, if you want to watch for hours and hours. We start in the gate room, with everybody gathered to leave. Rush gives his speech, a lot of the crew decide to stay, Telford has his say, then the gate opens up.”

Eli turns on the monitor but pauses, his finger hovering over the controls. “I’ll cut to the chase on one question I know the IOA is going to ask. Rush didn’t sabotage the dialing. I’ve gone over that footage of the readouts on the monitors and the records Ginn and I downloaded; he didn’t make the gate flux. I’ll be able to prove it.”

Then he jabs at the buttons and the monitor comes to life, showing people milling about the gate room, background noises of people talking, some with excitement, some with trepidation. Everett hears himself ask for the room’s attention.

Nick looks vulnerable as he stands beside Everett on the stairs. The expression he so often wears of arrogance and condescension when he’s trying to sway people is missing. He looks anxious and he takes a step closer to Everett. His eyes search the crowd, then he inhales a deep breath and makes his plea to not abandon Destiny.

Everett watches the footage until the last of it is done, the kinos recording the dying of one of the Ancients’ greatest achievements as they speed from all parts of the ship to the gate room, emerging on the surviving Destiny.

Then he puts his head in his hands and weeps.

* * *

Nick looks at him oddly when he joins him for lunch in the Mess. “Tell you later, okay? Not here,” Everett says quietly to him. “So, how did it go with Camile?”

Shrugging, Nick mutters, “I’ll tell you later. It wasn’t exactly a fun conversation.”

“Did she tell you Telford’s in charge of the IOA investigation into the destruction of the other Destiny?”

Nick stirs the mush plus alien vegetables in his bowl distractedly. “Aye. An’ when can we expect the pleasure of his company?”

“Day after tomorrow. There’s no hurry, and Eli is catching up on his sleep. He stayed up all night poring over kino footage. Tomorrow, Camile and the senior staff will watch it with me.”

“All right. Brody, too. Actually I’d like the entire Science Team to be there. Perhaps we can learn more about Destiny’s more troublesome systems while they were dying. Where’s this taking place? And when?”

“1400, observation deck, where we watched those movies. Nick, you don’t have to come. You don’t have to see it at all, or if you want to you can watch it with me, or by yourself.” Everett determinedly takes a spoonful and swallows it, even though he’s not hungry.

Nick is staring at him, his own spoon raised halfway to his mouth and forgotten, stranded in midair. “I did see a lot of it in person, you remember? I found their bodies.”

“The kinos filmed what happened between your twin and David. Not gonna lie, it’s rough to watch. You might not want a lot of people around if you’re watching it.”

“Then I’ll leave if it’s too hard. I’ll stay in the back and hold up a wall.” Nick’s expression flickers between dread and determination. He doesn’t want to be thought weak, Everett realizes.

“Your decision, ace. Later, back in our room, I can tell you what I saw.”

Nick waves a hand, not remembering he was holding a spoonful of food. The mush sails across the table and thwaps against Everett’s uniform.

“Food fights, Doc?” Greer says, a huge grin on his face, walking up to their table. “Really?” Lisa, right behind him, breaks into laughter and sits down by Nick and elbows him in the side, still mirthful. Greer slides in next to Everett. “Trouble in paradise, sir?”

Nick is looking at him in shock, and the surprise on his face is hilarious. “No trouble, Sergeant. Just an absent minded professor who can’t remember when he’s got a loaded utensil in his hand.”

Dropping his spoon, Nick puts his elbows on the table and buries his face in his hands with a muffled, “I can’t believe I did that,” while the rest of them break into more laughter.

* * *

In the stones room, Becker gives Everett an uncertain look, clearly uncomfortable about exchanging his body for Telford’s.

“Go.” Everett says, and puts a hand on the man’s shoulder. “It’ll do you good to see your father recovering from his heart attack.”

“Yes, sir,” Becker says. “I’m looking forward to it.” He shoots Everett another look of trepidation. “Sir, can I talk to you?”

Everett removes his hand from Becker’s shoulder. “What’s on your mind?”

Becker looked uncomfortable. “Sir, I’m a big guy. I could really hurt someone, especially someone who’s a lot smaller than me and not really trained to fight, although I know he’s pretty scrappy. I don’t want to come back and find out that Dr. Rush got the shit beat out of him by Colonel Telford using my body, or he did something else to him even worse. It just don’t sit right with me, sir.” He shrugs uncomfortably. “I know he’s been pretty angry with Dr. Rush. I, uh, heard him swearing about it after Eli’s wedding. He was drinking, most everybody was gone and I was cleaning up. I don’t think he paid me much mind. What he was mumbling he’d like to do with Dr. Rush, it would make me sick to learn he’d done it with my body. Sir.”

“Not gonna happen, Becker. I’ll look out for Dr. Rush. Don’t worry, okay? Just go and enjoy being with your family.” Everett smiles reassuringly at Becker, who takes a deep breath and nods, but his dark eyes still look troubled.

Becker touches the stone and David Telford’s sharp eyes focuses on his. “Everett. Good to see you, old friend.”

* * *

He bides his time while David fills him in on the latest fuckups with Home World Command and the Lucian Alliance’s ongoing skirmishes on the border planets. He doesn’t envy Jack O’Neill one bit.

They walk into the observation deck and David looks around, narrows his eyes. “Where’s the rest of the committee? And Rush. He needs to be here.”

“They’re not your concern right now. I am.” He clenches his fists, then relaxes them. “We need to get something straight, David.”

David rolls his eyes. “Oh, let me guess. Rush, right? Say what you want to say so we can get back to my investigation.”

“You don’t touch him, David. You don’t try to rape him, you don’t do a single fucking thing that is intimidating or manipulative or causes him any distress. You don’t pretend to be his friend, you don’t put your arm around him, or a hand on his shoulder. You back the fuck off, understand?”

“God, you’ve got it bad, Everett. I’m not going to hurt him, you paranoid. . .” David looks over at the doorway. “C’mon in, Nick. Get an earful?”

“Oh, aye,” Nick says. “Colonel Young will be leaving now. I believe you and I have some business to finish up. Have a seat, David. There’s some footage you need to see.”

He strides into the room, purposeful and strong and looking as arrogant as Everett has ever seen him. Flashing a complicated look at him, he says, politely, “Everett, I thank you for your concern. I’ll radio you when we’re ready for Camile and Eli and the rest to join us.”

He gives Nick a long, long look, before nodding to him and walking out. He goes into a nearby room, and activates the laptop sitting on the long table. The monitor comes to life, and he settles down in a chair to listen and watch. Eli set this up for him just in case Nick did just what he did. Nick wouldn’t like it when he tells him about his little monitoring project, but he’s going to make sure David doesn’t try anything.

Nick watched the kino footage yesterday with his back to the wall and one step away from being able to bolt out the door of the observation deck. Afterwards, he disappeared for hours. It was the hardest thing in the world to let him go, but the look Nick had shot him when he’d followed him, hands held out in front of him holding Everett back, let him know his lover needed some time to process what he’d learned.

Nick joined him later in his quarters, kissed him and said, voice tinged with exhaustion, “Let’s to bed, Everett.” They lay there, warm beneath the covers, Everett holding Nick against him, his back to Everett’s chest. There, in the almost dark, Nick talked, tears at times escaping which he would tiredly wipe away. He grieved finally for himself, for the lost soul they both had seen die on that footage. He wept for David, for the senseless death of a man who’d both helped him and manipulated him. He wept for the loss of Destiny, for the crew that had stumbled through the gate and dropped out of existence. For the other Everett and for Carmen, TJ, Lisa, Eli and Ginn. All of them. His body shook with sobs at the end, until he fell asleep, emotionally worn down.

To Everett’s eyes, watching Nick on the monitor as he starts the kino footage up, he still looks exhausted.

David, ignoring what Everett had just told him, steps close and puts both hands on Nick’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Nick. So sorry for what happened. And let me make something clear, okay?”

Nick looks so troubled. He doesn’t pull back from David, and that makes Everett grit his teeth, fist his hands.

David continues, and one thumb starts a slow stroking motion up and down against Nick’s neck. “I’ve already told the IOA that you, or rather, the other you, did not sabotage dialing Earth.”

Nick does step back then, crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh? You, or rather, the other you, was fair convinced I did exactly that.”

David shrugs. “When I exchanged with your double, I looked at the console logs. I’m not on your level, or Eli’s, when it comes to understanding Destiny’s systems, but I’m pretty damned decent. I’m sure Eli’s analysis will agree with mine. It was just a terrible, terrible cosmic accident that our people were lost. No one was at fault.”

Stepping close to Nick again, he opens his arms as if to pull him into a hug, but Nick says softly, “Don’t.”

Looking up to him, Nick says, “I think you’ll agree, once you see this footage, that you and I are toxic together. You’ve helped me, and I am grateful to you for that, but we’re done, David. We’re done. Maybe we can be friends, still, but not if you don’t respect my choice. I’m with Everett now.”

David looks at Nick with compassion written all over his face. “Nick, he doesn’t see the real you. I do, and you need to stop lying to yourself. You aren’t doing okay, you’re so damn fragile, but I can help you.” His voice softens, becomes persuasive. “You struggle and struggle, you can’t deny that, baby. Let me take that from you. Be honest, for once in your life. When I took control those times didn’t you feel relieved? Able to finally relax, and lose that tension that’s wearing you down? Remember how good it felt, after I fucked you till you were boneless and all you had to be was just Nick, because I was in the driver’s seat?”

Nick is silent, his eyes downcast. Watching David spin his web like this makes Everett want to go the fuck in there and haul him away from Nick, but he knows Nick would hate that. This is Nick’s business, he made that quite clear when he asked Everett to leave the observation deck. Respect, that’s what Nick asked of him and what David doesn’t believe Nick deserves or has earned.

David’s voice goes low and seductive. “I can make it be like that for you out of the bedroom, too. I’ll cherish you, comfort you, you can let go finally, cause I’ve got you. You can finally heal from all the shitty things that you’ve carried all your life.”

Nick looks up then and his eyes are blazing, furious, muscles tight and he’s shaking. “No, I don’t want that, David, thanks all the same. I’ll not be your thrall, mindless and obedient to your desires and decisions. I’ll keep myself, not trade in my soul for this false peace you’re offering. If I did what you’re asking of me, I wouldn’t be Dr. Nicholas Rush anymore. I’d be David’s rag doll. I’ll take the scars I carry, the pain, over that fate. So stop it, David. Sit down and watch. You need to see what happened between our doubles.“

David’s expression morphs into a narrowed eyed stare at Nick, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. Everett knows that stance. He’s told David before that when he does that, he’s telegraphing his intention of taking someone down hard.

If he takes Nick to the floor, Everett will banish David from Destiny and he’ll never be allowed back on board. He pulls his radio from his belt, to call Barnes in the stones room and tell her to disconnect David’s stone, but pauses, watching the two men.

He’d like to satisfy himself with breaking David’s nose, or blacking his eye, but that’s Becker’s body he’s using and that young man does not deserve a beating.

Nick sighs, takes David’s hand. He doesn’t look furious anymore. With sympathy in his voice he says, “I know what it is to want something so badly you refuse to see the truth. When Gloria was diagnosed with cancer the second time, I wouldn’t believe it. I insisted that the tests were wrong, the doctors made a fucking mistake. And I ran away, emotionally and sometimes physically, all to avoid what was plain in front of me. David, ask yourself, why are you so set on having me with you, in the way that you want? To have all the control? Why do you need it so badly that you’d hurt me if I don’t comply? You want me weak and broken, relying only on you, submissive, brainwashed into believing everything you say about me is real.”

David shakes his head, moves his free hand so that Nick’s smaller one is totally engulfed with his own. “Nick. Oh, Nick. This isn’t about me. It’s about you, your needs. Don’t forget I’ve held you in my lap when you’ve cried yourself out.” He steps closer to Nick; Nick moves back a step but doesn’t free his hand. “You put on a great act, arrogant, sarcastic, but inside, you’re a scared, confused little boy. Nobody ever took care of you when you were a kid, and it shows. It’s holding you back. You’re a hot mess, Nick, so needy and you can’t even see it. I see it, though. I see you and I’m offering to help you through to a better you, a more settled and happier you.”

Nick shakes his head. “You’re seeing what you want to see, David. Watch the footage, please.” He pulls his hand away and steps to the kino, bends over it and works the controls. The projection shows the other Destiny, Nick and his twin in front of glowing, sparking, massive power coils. One of them sprints down the corridor and the other one pulls off the safety grill, stands back watching the brilliant spirals.

David says, “Stop the video, Nick. Just for a moment.”

Nick pauses the footage, raises his eyebrows “Aye, what is it?”

“You may want Everett, but what you need is me,” David says, intently. “I know it would be difficult to be with me when I’m mostly on Earth, but I want to be with you for the long haul. Someday, you and the rest of the crew will safely come home.”

Nick rubs his forehead for a moment, then crosses to David, pushes him down into a chair. David lets him, places his hands around Nick’s waist.

Nick takes David’s head in between his hands, kisses him on the forehead. “I’m with Everett, and even if we break up sometime in the future, I won’t be yours. I never was yours, David. We had an agreement and you chose to ignore it.”

David tightens his hold on Nick’s waist. Everett gets up from the chair and waits to see what Nick will do. It’s hard, but if he oversteps his role, Nick probably would stop seeing him. He doesn’t want David to control him, and he sure as hell doesn’t want Everett to take his place.

Nick says, “David, you’re no a bad man. Tell me the truth. Have you ever had a relationship like what you want with me? Because I don’t think so. Am I right?”

David narrows his eyes, but he looks thoughtful. “No. Not with the control thing. But I’ve never felt the way I feel about you with anybody else. Nobody I’ve been with has had your issues.” David tries to draw Nick down into his lap, but Nick pushes David’s hands away from his body, steps away, returns to the kino control.

Nick crosses his arms over his chest, looks intently at David. “I thought about a lot of things yesterday, after I watched this footage. Went off by myself for hours. I thought about my time with Kiva. I thought about your time with her, too. She took our control away, and I’m thinking that it was worse for you. I endured torture and rape of my body, but for you, she raped your mind, took it from you. Twice.”

“I’m fine. I was cleared to return to duty,” David says, shrugging.

Nick shakes his head. “Oh, I’m quite certain you threw whatever psychological tests they put you through, but you’re not all right. You killed your own people for her. You betrayed Everett, your friends. You were her puppet. She tortured you. I saw some of it, you know, when you were faking still being brainwashed and tried to free the crew with the neural interface chair. David, this need to control me, under the guise of helping me, is you slapping a wee bandage over a great big wound. Aye, it might make you feel better temporarily to have me do your bidding, all the control in your hands, but it’s not going to be what you need to heal.”

“I’m functioning perfectly well,” David says tightly.

Nick gives him a look that calls bullshit on what David just said. “You can’t take back control of your life from what Kiva did to you by turning around and doing the same thing to me. I’m saying this sincerely: you need help, David. Your need to dominate me comes from Kiva’s crushing your mind and soul into submission. Don’t let her win. Get yourself sorted out, all right? Please.”

“Nick. . .” David begins, then peters out. He looks torn, conflicted, but the aggressive body language is gone.

“I do care about you as a friend,” Nick says softly. “Don’t bollocks it up. See Camile, or one of those SGC counselors, or somebody private. And before you tell me that advice is the pot calling the kettle black, I’m aware. Doesn’t make it untrue.”

Nick turns the footage back on, and Everett watches it for the third time, and it’s just as harrowing as the first time.

He pays attention more to the body language of the other David and the other Nick this time, the anger thrumming through David, the way Nick’s twin hunches over himself protectively the more David plays on his obvious fears of never having a place with Everett or the crew in this new turn of his life.

“Everett can’t handle a threesome with you and Nick, Nicholas. He’s not built that way, and your younger self is too jealous and possessive – he’s going to turn you out, and you know it. But I want you, even being the little shit that you are, despite your dooming your crew to death. I’ll take you apart and put you back together, baby. You’ve got no one on Destiny now except me. The crew’s gonna turn their back on you. Nick’s not going to let you anywhere near Destiny’s systems. You’ll be a pariah, outcast, but I can protect you, and I can keep you in the fold. I’ll fuck you till you scream and you’ll be mine, all mine. I’ll do things to you that Kiva never even thought of, and baby, you’ll learn to love it. Look at you, not so high and mighty now, are you? God, I love you like this.

Nicholas folds his hands over his head, and Everett sees the desolation in his eyes. Two days ago and yesterday, Everett has watched this, seen Nicholas – he owes it to this man to let him have his goddamned name-- collapse in front of the stargate, waiting for death, one hand touching the large ring, totally breaking down into sobs and tears, grief over his loss pouring out of him in broken words for long, long minutes. Finally, when he doesn’t die, he gets up and staggers to the consoles, ignoring the burns and cuts that drip his blood onto Destiny. He wipes his face clear of tears and goes to the stones room.

David, the only one safe on Earth, exchanges with Nicholas and Everett knows what guilt looks like on David’s face, even when it’s expressed on Nicholas’ fine boned features.

On the projection, David continues to tear Nicholas apart, using every manipulative psychological hold he can conjure. Nicholas shakes his head, tries to deny the bleak picture David is painting for him, but he can’t hold onto any optimism. At the end of David’s poisonous rant, it’s obvious Nicholas believes him. He collapses to his knees, hands over his face, shoulders shaking.

Then David pulls him to his feet, tilts his chin up and kisses him. It’s possessive and calculating and angry, and it’s clear that David is furious with Nicholas and he forces his mouth on Nicholas’, an arm pinning Nicholas to him while his free hand shoves down into the back of Nicholas’ loose, dirty trousers.

It’s only taken David moments to break Nicholas. He’s limp in David’s arms, not offering any resistance.

Not until David starts laughing in triumph. He swings Nicholas around and kisses him again, hard.

Everett knows now what suicidal rage looks like on his lover’s face. Nicholas bites David’s lip and starts screaming, not even words, just a primal howl of rage and loss and despair, stomps down on David’s feet and tries to pull free.

There’s a desperate dance of grabbing and pulling, pushing and shoving, Nicholas trying to pull free and David yanking him back against him again. Nicholas is still screaming, and it’s as if he can’t form words. One of the most intelligent people Everett has ever met, who’s used his wit like a scalpel, and he’s been reduced to pure emotion expressed through sound and action.

Even knowing what happens, it takes Everett by surprise. He’s sickened, as David flails and loses his grip on Nicholas as he stumbles from a hard shove. He falls backwards into the electric coils buzzing with deadly energy.

There’s no hope for him and Everett is sure, he’s very, very sure, that Nicholas knows that, but he grabs hold of David, rigid and shaking with the current burning through him, in an attempt to pull him free.

In the room where Nick and David are watching this, Everett sees David reach out and turn off the footage, the last image those of two bodies fallen to the deck, entwined.

David is taking slow, deep breaths. Nick is quiet. They sit there like that for ten minutes, until David finally shudders and says, “All right. All right, Nick. We do this your way. Friends.” He stands and offers his hand, and Nick takes it.

Everett turns off the monitor and waits for the radio call to bring the rest of the group designated to give the IOA their official report to the Observation Deck.

 

* * *

David avoids him after the meeting, but asks Camile to go with him back to report to the IOA. Nick is absolved from all blame, and Camile is positive the IOA will accept that, based on David’s testimony, the Science Teams’s analysis, and the kino footage.

The others had seen the footage yesterday about how Nicholas’ and David’s twin had died. They decline to watch it again.

Eli pulls Nick off into a corner, where Brody joins them. Nick gets a very satisfied look on his face, and beckons him to join them. He nods, then glances toward Camile and David, who are in their own huddle going over their report to the IOA. Nick nods back, then apparently starts grilling Brody, from the annoyed look on the man’s face.

Everett has been watching David for this entire time, and he’s not sure what to think. David is subdued, distracted, like he’s mostly paying attention to what’s in his own head instead of what’s going on around him. That’s not David’s MO, not when he’s about the sharpest Everett’s ever seen for observing and analyzing what’s happening around him. That quality made him a top notch SGC team leader.

He’s hoping that what Nick said to him is really sinking in, and he’s ready to kick his own ass for not pressing David more about his recovery from Kiva’s brainwashing and torture.

David also excels at playing a role, which made him an excellent undercover agent. It apparently also allowed him to snow Homeworld Command’s psych experts.

Everett sees David and Camile turn towards the door, and he intercepts them. Camile smiles at him, tells David she’ll meet him in the stones room. She leaves, and he listens for a moment to the sound of her no-nonsense steps as she moves purposely down the corridor. Her body language always telegraphs that she’s got a plan and she will make it work. They’re lucky to have her on board and on their side with the IOA.

“Everett,” David says.

He turns and David looks Everett straight in the eyes. He looks tired, worn out. “How much do you know?” David asks him, and his eyes glance towards where the kino is floating, mostly hidden by a support beam. “I don’t think Nick has seen it yet.”

“All of it. You gonna do what he suggested, get some help?” David’s hangdog behavior, it could be an act.

David rolls his eyes.“Yeah, I am, you skeptical bastard. Take care of yourself, Everett. Take care of this crew. I want them safely home someday. It’s. . . I need them to come home, to be safe.”

Because, Everett thinks to himself, it was your fault they ended up here and you’re looking for atonement. You sold them out to the Lucian Alliance when you gave Kiva Icarus’s location and it’s been destroying your soul. Even if the information had been leaked to another House, who jumped the gun about attacking Icarus, David feels responsible.

“Not your fault,” Everett says. “Try and remember that.” He holds out his hand and David takes it, a guarded expression on his face. They shake, Everett’s hand engulfed by Becker’s huge one.

“Tell Nick I said goodbye. I’m putting in for a transfer when I get back. Think I’d like to do another stint with the SGC. SG24’s team leader is retiring in two months. Be nice to get out of Washington for a while.”

“Yeah,” Everett says. “Sounds like you’ve got a plan.” Like Camile, David is a strategist.

“Yeah. Catch you later, Everett.” David turns and leaves, giving a wave to the rest of the Science team, who have all joined the intense discussion going on with Nick.

Everett turns back to the group when Nick calls out, “Colonel Young. You’re going to want to hear this.” He sounds like himself, a little grumpy and impatient, clearly absorbed in this new project. He blows his long hair out of his eyes, and when Everett still hasn’t moved, says imperiously, “Everett!”

He sees Dale Volker roll his eyes, an amused look on his face, Brody shaking his head with his usual deadpan expression, and Lisa Park hiding her mouth behind her hand, obviously trying to keep from breaking out into laughter, and Eli elbowing Ginn, casting an exaggerated look his way. “So married,” he mouths at Everett.

He smiles as he walks over to them. Nick is oblivious to his team mates expressions, and he’s bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

“Brody and Eli think they’ve found where the stasis chambers are located. We’re going to want to go take a look immediately.” Nick pushes his hair back out of his eyes again. It’s gotten pretty long over the last several months.

“How safe is it?” Everett asks.

“Not very,” Brody answers as Park says cheerfully, “It’s good.”

Everett shoots them both a look, the pessimist and the optimist of the group. The truth probably lies somewhere in between.

Nick has a tendency to gloss over problems if it will let him do what he wants.

“Eli, Dale, Ginn, what’s your take on it.”

Dale Volker says, “We can go in EVA suits for the initial exploration. We have to go through areas where there’s no life support.”

Eli nods. “Yeah, before we can really do much, we’re gonna need to fix that part of the ship. Obviously.”

Ginn says, “We should fly through a star, top up our power reserves. The manufactory will have to fabricate the parts we need, we’ll need to drop out and use the shuttle to help with repairs.”

“And would you be wanting my opinion, Colonel Young?” Nick says, sounding miffed and sarcastic.

“Of course,” he answers. “What do you suggest?”

“This is a multi-faceted problem, so we break into teams. Lisa will make sure the suits are ready, then Brody and I will use them to do an on site inspection of the stasis chambers and the damaged areas of the ship to reach them. Volker finds us a star to refuel in. Eli and Chloe do the calculations for changing Destiny’s course. Ginn and Lisa find us specs for whatever parts we need out of the manufactory’s data base and program Destiny to make them. All of us will study what the data base has to say about going into stasis.”

“Okay. But it will be either you and I in the suits, or Brody and Greer. I want safety harnesses rigged. One of the three suits stands ready for an emergency, and no more than five hours in the suits at a time. Park and Scott can also be in the rotation for the suits. I don’t want people getting exhausted and we all know these suits are not the easiest in the world to use. Other than that, it’s a go.”

Nick turns to look at the Science Team. “You heard the Colonel. Were my instructions clear? Yes? Then on your way you go. Lisa, radio us when you’ve cleared the suits.”

The Science Team heads en masse to the door, chattering with each other about their assignments. There’s a sense of relief in their tones, and he suspects it’s because they’ve closed the book on that heart-wrenching footage of the other Destiny’s dying moments and on Nicholas’s breakdown and grief. Having Nick give them orders in his no nonsense practical voice has righted the universe for them, he suspects.

Nick looks up at him. “What?” he says, a tad suspiciously at Everett’s considering stare.

Everett reaches out, runs his hand through Nick’s hair. “You need a trim. How many times a day are you blowing or pushing your hair out of your face?”

“Yes, well. I suppose Lieutenant Johansen still has scissors.” He shivers. “Kiva used them.”

From the look on Nick’s face, there had been more involved than a trim. “Oh,” he says.

“She made a point to me about compliance with her wishes. At the time I was relieved not to be pissing myself from her touching me.”

“You want to keep your hair long?” Everett touches Nick’s hair briefly, enjoying the feel of it. “You look good with it that way. Me, I’d look like a damn sheep dog.”

Nick grins at that image, then pauses, obviously thinking. “It’s true it’s gotten annoying, with my hair falling into my eyes every ten seconds. I’ll trim it somewhat, but keep the rest long for now. I like going against Kiva’s wishes.”

“That’s you, giving the finger to the Lucian Alliance.”

“Aye. It’s petty, I suppose, but it makes me feel like. . . me. Everett. . .” His eyes narrow. “You haven’t asked about David.”

“Because I already know.” Everett turns Nick around and points out the kino to him. Nick huffs out an annoyed breath and puts his hands on his hips, glaring at Everett.

“Still with the paranoid, obsessive watching, Everett? Really? I thought we were past that.”

“I trust you, Nick. Of course I do.” He shrugs. He has no plans to apologize. “It was Telford I didn’t trust. Even Becker warned me about him, based on some drunken mutterings he overheard. If he started to hurt you, I was going to have the stones disconnected immediately.”

Nick looks a little mollified, but he’s still giving Everett the stink-eye. “Nick,” he says, “I’m going to watch your six. You’ve done the same for me. Remember keeping me out of the chair?”

Nick sighs, and nods. “It’s just. . . for so long I had to look out for myself, until I met Gloria. Then when I . . .”

Everett finishes for him, since Nick’s throat seems to have closed up. “When you lost her, you didn’t have anyone keeping watch anymore.”

Nodding, Nick says, “I didn’t, but to be honest I pushed away any of our friends who maybe would have helped. I cut all ties when I went to Cheyenne Mountain and Icarus. I was fucked up, Everett.”

“Yeah, but you’re better now. You’ve got people here that won’t let you get away with that kind of shit, besides me. Chloe for one, Greer and Camile, and the rest of your team. Even Dale Volker.”

He grins at the face Nick pulls when he mentions Dale, but he knows it’s mostly Nick acting like a drama queen for him. Those two might rub each other the wrong way, but they’re family despite that -- and family takes care of its own.

Everett says, “About David. I think you were right about him and his unresolved trauma. I hope he does as you suggested, gets some help. He told me he’s going to transfer out of Washington, probably back to the SGC, lead a team again for a while.”

Nick says, “Oh. That’s good. So, we won’t be seeing much of him for a while, I suppose.”

“Don’t think so.”

“It’s for the best, I think, to have some time and distance between us. I hope after that we can stay friends,” Nick says. He looks down at the floor. “I don’t have too many of those and in the beginning, David did help me a great deal.”

Everett is going to take a wait and see approach. He and David have a long history together, but David is going to have to follow through with therapy and get his head straightened out before he’ll allow himself to trust him and be good friends again.

He nudges Nick. “Hey, you still pissed at me?”

“Aye. You could have told me about the kino.” Nick arches his eyebrows at him.

“Maybe. I didn’t want to take the chance that David would pick up from you that I was watching. Can I make it up to you?”

Nick gives him a careful, assessing look. “A penance for your sins? I’ll give it some thought.”

Everett smiles and wonders what Nick will ask from him. It could be interesting. “Well for now, before we go out exploring the ship, let’s head to the Mess. You get cranky when you haven’t eaten.”

“I’m quite sure I don’t,” Nick says, but there’s a small grin lurking at the corner of his mouth.

“Uh-huh. Sure. C’mon.” He throws an arm over Nick’s shoulder and steers him out of the room and down the corridor. They pass crewmen, both military and civilian, but he keeps his arm right where he wants it.

* * *

Everett looks in the mirror Homeworld Command keeps in their stones room to examine the face he’ll be wearing while he’s debriefing the IOA today. As far as he’s concerned, this meeting is pointless. David’s replacement, Colonel Evan Lorne, who transferred from Atlantis back to Earth, has been up to Destiny every two weeks since David transferred out, plus Camile’s regular visits have the IOA up to speed.

The man he’s exchanged with is about his own age, bald with dark skin. His eyes are a warm brown and the name on the uniform indicates that he’s the dentist TJ has been requesting ever since she and Nick discovered Destiny has its own dental equipment. The crew is in for a series of checkups while he and Camile are stuck down here.

He looks over at Camile, who has made the arrangements. Her host is a pretty young woman with bright red hair and freckles galore. The dentist’s assistant, he’s sure. Maybe she’ll give his body’s teeth a good cleaning while he’s being grilled by the IOA. Actually, while he dislikes going to the dentist, he’d rather get a root canal done than sit with the IOA for hours being questioned about every decision that’s been made in the last four months since the stasis chambers were discovered.

Camile arches her eyebrows. “Shall we, Colonel?” She’ll stay to visit Sharon for several days after the meeting, but he’s got no one in particular to go see until the dentist is done for the day. There’s no way Dr. Nash can examine everybody today, so he’ll be back tomorrow in another borrowed body and Everett will get to spend the night with Nick cuddling up against him in their own bed.

Maybe he’ll see if Lorne wants to go grab a beer and a hamburger later, take in a game at a sports bar, or something. Maybe hot wings or pizza.

He gets up from the chair as Camile also rises, and together they walk down the halls of the Pentagon with their escorts until Camile guides them to a large conference room. It’s empty. One of the escorts whips out his radio and informs them after some back and forth that the meeting’s been pushed back for an hour.

“Want to grab some coffee?” he asks Camile.

She eyes him skeptically. “You hate the coffee here, Everett. I believe you told me it tastes like tar.”

“Yep. But I’m not planning on drinking the Pentagon’s coffee. I’ve been told I can help myself whenever I’m here.” After all, Everett is friendly with the SGC’s and Homeworld Command’s most famous coffee snob, and the man has a lab here as well as in Cheyenne Mountain. Wherever Dr. Jackson hangs his hat, there will be more than decent coffee there.

“Oh, right,” Camile says, a small laugh in her tone. “I’m going to call Sharon, but you can bring me back a cup for the meeting. Black, please. And if Daniel is here today, tell him thanks.”

“Sure.” She leaves then, an eager look on her face. He tells the escort his agenda, and they take an elevator down a few floors so he can pick up his mail and then head to Jackson’s lab.

He’s got a handful of letters, some from his family, and three from David Telford. David’s are stamped classified and they never saw the inside of a US post office.

They’re almost to Jackson’s lab when a tall man with a mop of blond hair wearing fatigues that never seem to fit right on him almost bowls him over, because he’s trying to read some ancient looking book while walking fast down the hall.

Everett avoids the collision, and the man looks up, startled, juggling the book. His eyes are very blue as he starts to apologize.

“Hey, Daniel,” Everett interrupts. “It’s Everett Young. If you were trying to get to the meeting with the IOA about Destiny, you can relax. It’s been postponed. How about some coffee?”

Daniel’s face lights up. “Everett? How are you? How’s Nick? If the meeting’s postponed then c’mon back to my lab. I just put on a new pot. Sam gave me a couple of pounds of St. Helena beans for my last birthday. It’s fantastic. It was Napoleon’s favorite, actually.”

Daniel rambles on about coffee, and the escort is handed a mug of it and left to wait outside Daniel’s lab so they can talk.

“You ever going to ask me for my identification code, Daniel?” Everett says wryly, then takes a sip of coffee. Fuck, that’s good.

“Oh, right.” Daniel, despite years of being with the SGC, still doesn’t have much of a military mindset. No wonder he and Nick have always gotten along.

Everett rattles it off and Daniel compares it to the list he evidently keeps in his head, then nods. “So,” he says. “How are you, Everett? How’s Nick?”

Has anyone ever refused to answer a question from Daniel Jackson? Everett doubts it. There’s something about the sincerity in his tone of voice, his obvious interest, and the intensity of his gaze that compels people to open up.

He’s no exception to the Jackson experience and he recounts that he and Nick are still in a relationship, that it’s been good, and that Nick’s nightmares and his own have decreased quite a bit. Nick still has bad days, sometimes, where he’ll take long, long showers and hides from the crew, but he doesn’t hide from Everett. As for himself, he feels steady, and Brody’s still doesn’t call to him anymore, except for a social drink with friends from time to time.

He saves the information about the mission for the official debriefing. Instead, he tells him stories about Nick and Carmen, how TJ will sometimes dump a sleepy baby on Nick, when she’s called to the infirmary in the middle of the night and Everett has to go along and see what dumb ass accident happened now.

He’s come back to see the two of them, Nick and the baby, curled up asleep together on the floor, Carmen’s toys scattered around, or in his bed, Carmen asleep on Nick’s chest and his arm protectively over her in his sleep.

Carmen calls Nick, “Nih.” It’s cute as hell.

Daniel looks wistful when Everett talks about his daughter, and he remembers that Daniel, too, had loved a child; a child who he couldn’t keep for the child’s own safety and had given him into the care of an Ancient.

“Nick sounds like he’s good with babies,” Daniel says, a smile breaking through that wistful expression. “You know, that’s not something I would have expected.”

Everertt laughs, feeling fondness for his lover washing through him. “He was better than I was when Carmen was first born. He showed me how to do that swaddling thing. He, uh, you know, he didn’t have the easiest time as a kid, he got farmed out a lot while his dad was working out of town or out on a bender. He was put to work by his babysitters with helping with the littler ones. He told me he was carrying babies around and feeding them and changing them by the time he was five. He loves Carmen to death and she adores him. He’ll sing to her in Scot’s Gaelic, sometimes.”

“He’s fluent in Gaidhlig, I know. He’s got a gift for languages, took to learning Ancient like a dream. Speaking of which, how’s the classes going?” Daniel offers him another cup of coffee, and he nods his grateful thanks.

“Nick keeps trying to weasel out of teaching, but I won’t let him. He can’t have it both ways, I keep telling him. He wants the crew to know Ancient, and that means somebody’s got to teach them. He’s the best at Ancient we’ve got, so he’s stuck with it.” Nick isn’t above trying to wheedle his way out his teaching responsibility, but Everett has stayed firm about it. Besides, he enjoys kissing the pout right off Nick’s face when he can’t get out of his job duties.

“He’s actually a really good teacher, you know. I observed him at Berkeley while we were trying to entice him to join the program.” Daniel sips his coffee, closes his eyes in appreciation. “Not one to put up with any bullshit from students, though. Tough, but fair was the word on him, and he made it almost impossible for his students to whine about how much work they had to do when it was obvious how hard their professor worked all the time.”

Everett smiles. “I can see that he wouldn’t put up with half-assed excuses on why their work wasn’t done. He’s the same with the Science Team, but we all gang up on him when he’s gone beyond hard working to utter exhaustion. He’s usually grateful for the intervention, later, after some sleep and actual meals.” To be fair, a few of the times his exhaustion was because of some emergency, but more often it was because Nick was just too absorbed in a project to practice self care.

Daniel looks amused. “I think Jack might enjoy grousing with you about team members who won’t quit burning the midnight oil.”

“You certainly did the last time you were on Destiny. I think David Telford slept for two days after you and he switched back on the stones.” Everett looks at his wrist and notes the time.

Daniel says, “Speaking of my last time on Destiny, I’ve got great news. That’s why I’m at the meeting, too. I found the hidden files in the Atlantis data base, all about Destiny and her mission. Nobody’s gonna point a finger at Nick anymore and say he faked that information.”

Everett almost drops his mug. “You did?” He smiles, and imagines the look on Nick’s face when he’s told his discovery has been validated by Dr Jackson. “That’s great, Daniel.”

Daniel winks at him. “I’ll save the technical information for the meeting.”

After refilling their mugs and grabbing one for Camile, they make their way towards the meeting. Jack O’Neill intercepts them at the door and spirits Daniel away for “a small chat” and Everett settles inside, the escort waiting patiently in the outer room.

He opens his mail, first from his family and enjoys the family news. He’ll write them back before he leaves, but he can’t call them. They’re not read into the program, and he thinks it’s better this way. They would have a hard time understanding how he ended up on a spaceship across the universe. They know he’s on a classified mission and can’t contact them directly.

The letters from David he reads in order. David took leave for several months and was in intense counseling. His counselor wasn’t on Homeworld’s Command staff roster, but did have the highest clearance for a civilian. From what David wrote in his second letter, the woman took him apart and helped him put himself back together. He wrote that he didn’t like a lot of what he learned about himself, including his past relationship with Nick. He said he was making changes.

The third letter was sent only a week ago. David had taken over SG24 two months ago, and was keeping in mind what he’d learned. He wrote he had a good team, and they’d already been through thick and thin together. Everett was reminded of his old team then, as he refolded David’s letters into their envelopes. They’d been through hell together, and he’d loved each of them dearly. It isn’t painful to remember them now, and for that he’s grateful.

Then various members of the IOA start trickling in and finding seats at the large table, and Camile joins him, smiling gratefully at the mug of coffee, still steaming, that he nods toward.

* * *

Richard Woolsey sighs and steeples his fingers together on the table. Camile felt he was an ally within the IOA, due to his experiences on Atlantis, but he was still a nitpicker. Right now, he was insisting on nitpicking through everything that had happened in the last few months with the crew and the ship.

“Colonel Young,” Woolsey says, and takes off his glasses. “You’re telling us that Destiny is no longer on the predetermined path laid out by the Ancients, a path, that mind you, Dr. Jackson confirmed was set up specifically to gather information on the intelligence that left a message for younger races in the Cosmic Background Radiation. Destiny could be missing critical information.”

Everett wraps his fingers around the coffee mug. “Yes, sir, that is correct.”

Woolsey presses on, looking over his glasses at him. “And the reason being that automated robot ships have been staking out likely stopping places on Destiny’s path and that after two battles with them, which you won, you’ve changed Destiny’s course to stop at stars that you chose, not Destiny, to refuel. You’ve gone to planets far from the designated route to replenish your supplies.”

Camile shoots Everett a sympathetic look. Woolsey has a reputation of being a pain in the ass. He’s powerful in the IOA, though so Everett makes sure his voice is respectful. He’s thankful Nick is out foraging on one of those planets right now, instead of being here because it’s doubtful Nick could keep from saying something sarcastic.

“Yes, sir.” Everett replies. “We don’t like it, but it’s necessary. Fighting those robot ships was a drain of our resources and those ships up their game the more we interact with them.”

Evan Lorne adds, “It’s not easy, either. Luckily, Destiny has talented people on board who can do the kind of calculations needed. Dr. Rush, Eli Wallace, and Chloe Armstrong plot the new courses.

Smiling his thanks at Evan, Everett adds, “As far as missing information, we do go back to the original course from time to time and Dr. Rush says that Destiny’s sensors are taking in and storing information. We do this far from the stars we’d normally try to enter for refueling. By the time the enemy ships leave their blockade around those stars and head for us, we’re gone again.”

Jack O’Neill holds up a finger. “Everett. These jazzed up roombas, they haven’t show up at any stars off the course?”

“Not so far. Dr. Rush thinks that they’re programmed to defend certain territory, but not to invade areas not initially told to by their inventors to destroy. We may have to use the stasis pods to get through their area and into the next galaxy as a last resort through, if we can’t keep dodging them. We’re trying to build up our stores and repair more of the ship so we can improve to more than fifty percent on the energy gained by flying through a star. The Science Team, especially Mr. Brody, have worked hard on that project.”

Richard Woolsey frowns. “So, in essence, you and Dr. Rush are gambling that where you are stopping to refuel the ship and visit planets for supplies is not not in their territory or on their border.”

“We’ve got no choice.” Camile says, a hard edge to her tone. “I believe we’ve explained Destiny’s dilemma sufficiently. Perhaps we can move on to crew morale and the programs we’ve developed to increase technical and coping skills. For example, the Ancient language classes are going very well, headed by Dr. Rush, and Mr. Brody has been teaching welding classes. A drumming group has formed, and our choir has been putting on shows monthly for the crew. Board games have been recreated, checkers, and chess, and go are very popular.”

Nick has made all of the chess sets, and Thursday nights are reserved for playing speed chess in the Mess. It’s fun for the crew, those who aren’t playing are either cheering or making bets.

Evan Lorne clears his throat. “They’re kind of cut throat about playing checkers. But the crew seems in good spirits on my visits there, except for Chloe Armstrong. I know her mother has been very concerned and has been in contact with the IOA and Homeworld Command.”

Jack O’Neill gives Everett a pointed look. He knew Chloe’s father, Senator Armstrong, had been friends with him before he died on board, buying the crew time to survive.

“Physically, the alien DNA appears to have reached a stopping point in changing her body. She hasn’t had blackouts for a while now, and within reason, she’s been allowed out under supervision. Her help is invaluable. Emotionally,” Everett steels himself, “she’s aware she’s a liability to the ship, although it’s been months since the Nakai have caught up to us. She asks me weekly to leave her on a planet, for the good of the crew. My assessment is that we can afford to keep her with us, for now.”

“Any hope of reversing what those blue bastards did to her?” O’Neill asks.

“No sir. We have not found anything in the data base that could help. Lieutenant Johnsen thinks that perhaps if a retro virus were developed to target those changes in her and destroy them, she might recover. We simply do not have the technology or knowledge, sir, and she’s checked with Dr. Lam at the SGC. There’s nothing on Earth that could help.”

Nick sometimes argues that since it was the Nakai who did this to her, they would have the ability to change her back, but what could they use to force the aliens to do that? It’s their best idea, and it’s a terrible one. But if an opportunity came up?

It’s a Hail Mary long, long shot, but he shares it with the group. No one looks hopeful.

Camile covers the health of the crew, how they’ve set up a dental clinic for the next few days, how everyone goes to the planets for foraging duty which doubles as a chance to be in sunlight and have their bodies make Vitamin D.

Nick is convinced that there must be some kind of sunlamps on board, but then again, how much would the Ancients have needed them? TJ has been unable to find out from the SGC or from the database.

The biggest news on the crew’s health is that seven women on board are pregnant, Ginn and Park are two of them. TJ has requested some additional training in Obstetrics for herself and for several other crew members. There’s plans for several weddings over the next two months which is keeping the crew busy on their off shifts. Greer has sported a smug grin ever since Lisa Park informed him that he was going to be a father. Their wedding is next week.

He’s reporting that the stasis pods are all in working order and that there are more than enough for the entire crew when there’s a knock on the door, and a young woman enters. Everett recognizes her, she was a part of David’s team of scientists.

She salutes O’Neill and in a steady voice identifies herself as Corporal Barnes from Destiny. Everett tenses up, and Camile looks worried.

“Sirs, sorry to interrupt, but Colonel Young and Camile Wray are needed back on the ship immediately. We have a situation.”

She directs a look at Everett, and he waves for her to continue. “Let’s hear it.”

“Dr. Rush has been taken from the planet we were foraging on in a small spaceship. He was alive, sir. Dunn saw it, but he was too far away to stop the men who grabbed Dr. Rush. Sir, they looked human. They had a baby with them and they made him carry it into the ship.” Barnes makes eye contact with him. “It’s not Carmen, sir. she’s safe on board. The rest of the teams are being recalled to Destiny through the stargate, and sir, there are three large enemy ships spotted on long range sensors heading for us. It’s the robot ships again.”

He gets to his feet, and nods to O’Neill.

“Go take care of business,” Jack says, and shoots a look to Daniel.

Everett stands with Camile. “Tell them to pull the stones, Corporal.” Barnes pulls her radio off her belt and gives the order.

The room dissolves away and he’s back on Destiny. Camile says urgently, “I’ll head to the gateroom, help with the returning teams.”

“Go,” he says, jumping up from the chair in the stones room and starts running to the Bridge, radio in his hand, getting a sit-rep from Scott.

His priority is the crew and the ship, to get them away safely.

He can’t think about Nick right now. He can’t, he can’t.

He can’t.

 

* * *

Chapter 35: Taken

Third times the bloody, fucking charm, Rush thinks with disgust, and puts the wee babe up on his shoulder, patting the child firmly on the back. First the bloody Nakai find him on that desert planet Everett had left him on and force him to go with them, then the damn Lucians take him while he’s in David’s body, and now, now, these three assholes kidnap him. Two of them had stumbled upon him picking fruit, and had stunned him without even saying a word when he’d turned around at the sound of their approaching. He’d expected Dunn to return from walking Volker and Brody back to the stargate as their shift was done. He’d been helpless to resist, his muscles on strike as they took his stargate remote from him and the gun he’d been given. They’d mostly carried him until his legs started working properly again,

He has no idea where this ship is heading or what will happen to him.

The baby whimpers fretfully and he shushes the lad. He’s a bit young for it, but perhaps he’s teething. Still, he’s not drooling over much and he’s not chomped down on Rush’s finger when he’d gently checked his mouth. Rush thinks something else is making the baby unhappy. Perhaps the rash on his face and small belly. Damn these men, they’d silenced the wee lad by forcing a pacifier into his mouth, taping it into place. The child’s skin is irritated from the tape, perhaps an allergic reaction. Gloria had been allergic to the medical tape used when she’d been in hospital.

She would be so furious if she’d seen how this babe has been treated by these men. She’d adored children; it was a great sorrow to her when she’d been unable to have her own.

He stands and walks up and down the wide corridor, under the suspicious glares of the men, as much as the rope on his ankle will allow him. He can’t reach any of this ship’s systems. The man with the controller holds it up as a warning when he trudges closer to them. He’s already experienced the electric shock the collar can deliver, and doesn’t wish to repeat the experience.

Perhaps if he’d cooperated when they’d first dragged him into the clearing where the three had a make shift camp next to their small space ship, they’d have left him on the planet.

Probably not alive, though. The way they had scampered away from the planet as soon as they’d realized there were others in that area seemed to him that they were highly invested in keeping their whereabouts secret. Realistically, they wouldn’t have wanted him telling anyone about them.

The dark haired, brown eyed thug had looked frightened when he’d told the others that their alarm system indicated that no other vessel was in orbit, let alone had landed.

“You!” he’d hissed at Rush. “Did you come through the stargate?”

Rush had understood him quite well, although the words were accented in a way he didn’t recognize. The effect of the stargate upon the human brain’s language center, no doubt. And these three were human, certainly, although they were even taller than Becker and built just as strongly.

He’d shrugged, and then his attention had been drawn to the very soft whimpers coming from a small form on a blanket on the ground.

He’d been outraged to see the infant had a pacifier forced into his mouth by taping it to his checks. “Are ye all daft! Take that thing out the wean’s mouth now, before the poor thing chokes to death!”

For an answer, the man who had stunned him when Rush had been peacefully picking fruit and had secured his hands behind his back, had pulled a knife and had ordered him to be quiet.

The man had a military style hair cut and tattoos across his forehead, and held him hard against him, Rush’s back to his belly, pressing the knife against his throat until he feels blood running down his neck.

The bastard muttered something to the man with elaborate purple braids who loped up the gangplank into the ship and returned a minute later with red colored items in his hand. Purple Braids had snapped something around his neck. He didn’t understand what it was at first, not until his hands were freed and he reached up to touch it.

A collar.

The git who’d been holding him stepped away to his side and lowered the knife. The one who’d collared him had fiddled with a smaller set of circles, his attention distracted, and Rush had attacked.

He’d kicked the knife out of the one man’s hand and dodged the hands of the other one. He’d known he had to get away, get back into the forest and find Dunn and the others in their group. He’d decided to take the baby with him. Even if one of these goons had been the father, which he doubted, he wasn’t going to leave a child to be abused.

He’d whirled and kicked at the man who’d collared him, connecting with his kneecaps, and had felt a sense of satisfaction as the oaf screamed in pain and fell to the ground.

He risked a look backward as he reached the blanket. The one who’d dropped the knife was just standing there, and it raised his alarm to Nakai boarding Destiny heights.

When the pain hit him his back arched and he couldn't even scream, his breath was locked in his chest and he fell to the ground in convulsions. He couldn’t control his muscles. He didn’t black out exactly, he was dimly aware of other restraints fastened around his wrists and ankles. They’d pulled off his trainers and socks so that the metal was directly against his skin.

He laid there dizzy, a splitting headache making his eyes water, and listened to the three men argue over his fate. It had been hard to concentrate, but he’d done his best.

The tattooed man voted to kill him and toss his body in the brush. The other two agreed that he couldn’t be left here to give their descriptions in case he survived the Terminator attack that they declared would be coming. They also objected to killing him. Apparently, they hadn’t signed up for that. Finally they decided he could be useful.

He was pulled to his feet, unsteady, but didn’t lose his balance. He was shoved a few feet to the blanket.

“You want to live, you take care of the kid. Pick him up,” Tattoo Man ordered. “Christ, I can smell him from here.”

He had bent with trembling hands and cradled the babe to his chest. If he’d tried to escape those stun restraints would have been activated again and the babe would likely be shocked, too.

He was marched into the ship, a thin rope attached to his ankle and ordered to strap into a seat in the back where the crew quarters are. There’s nothing to put the baby into and so he improvises with a sheet to make a baby sling to hold the child close to his chest. If he passes out, this way the babe won’t fall to the deck.

First, though, he removed the gag these thugs have improvised with the pacifier, which had left the babe’s skin red and rash-like.

Mr. Tattoo, the man who’d held a knife to his neck, had stationed himself in a seat where he could watch Rush. He’d showed him the control to the restraints. Rush had nodded at him and tried very hard to make it respectful. The ship had rumbled to life and had lifted off. He’d felt the strain of it and the baby had started to fuss. He hummed softly to the wee lad and hoped to God that somehow Destiny can track them. If nothing else, they should realize he’s on this ship. He’d peeled off his black jacket back when he was picking fruit and tossed it carelessly onto a branch. How he regrets doing that now, his hidden screwdriver probably light years away. His shoes and socks are still at the campsite and surely the ship was observed leaving the planet.

It hasn’t escaped him that his kidnapper’s reaction to learning he’d used the stargate likely means that the planet he’d just left is one monitored by the robot ships. Destiny’s crew could be under attack this very moment.

Destiny luck has struck again, it seems. His ship, his crewmates, Everett and Carmen, are in danger. He well knows where men with shady dealings go to ground. That planet had been restricted, no normal travel, and thus a good hiding place. Until he and his people stepped through the gate.

Please be safe, he thinks. Please.

* * *

It’s been hours and hours since he was forced aboard this ship. He’s fed the babe, washed him and changed him into clean clothes, spent most of these hours trying to soothe the tyke.
.
Mr. Tattoo, who’d suggested killing him and dumping his body in the brush, the one who’d held the knife to him, he’s continued to stare at Rush for long periods of time.

The fucker’s eyes had been undressing him. Maybe he hadn’t been aware of what such looks entailed back in his younger days; he certainly hadn’t understood at the time that the way David looked at him back at the SGC meant he was thinking about fucking him. His time with Kiva and her people had changed that. Even after he was released from the table, he’d been watched, prey being marked by predators, for when he was to begin his occupation as the ship’s whore.

So he’s aware of this additional danger. The other two, they don’t strike him as being forceful enough to stop the other man from taking him. And if Tattoo Man does make him perform sexual acts, they might just want their own turn. A great deal of rationalization must be running through their minds, to excuse what they’ve done to a helpless infant. If they can talk themselves into thinking that was all right, then forcing him against his will to pleasure them would surely be as easy.

From the arguments he’s overheard, this kidnapping hasn’t gone according to plan. He can’t hear what they’re discussing at the moment, though, but all three keep shooting looks at him.

As if Purple Braids and Dark Hair realize he’s thinking about them, they both rise from the front seats and make their way to where he’d tucked himself into a nook, the baby asleep on his lap.

“Hi,” Purple Braids says. “You’re really quiet.”

He gives a tiny nod, acknowledging the observation. He feels himself slipping back to how he’d acted when he’d been Dinn to the Lucian Alliance.

“What’s your name? Why were you on the planet with those people? Didn’t any of you know any better than to use the stargate? You know, your friends are probably dead. The Terminators show up when any stargate in the borderlands is activated. We saved your life, little man. You should be grateful.”

He knows better than to roll his eyes at that bit. But how he wants to do just that. Instead he keeps his eyes focused on the deck floor.

He stays silent and Dark Hair reaches out and takes Rush’s chin in his hand, forcing him to look at him. “Answer the questions, little one,” he orders, frowning. He lets go in order to run a hand through Rush’s hair, then grips the hair above his neck. Fuck. His heart is hammering in his chest. This isn’t good, not at all. He’s probably fifteen years older than these two but apparently his relative smallness compared to them makes them feel it’s all right to treat him like a child. They’ve just made it clear they have no problem in manhandling him.

Rush opens his mouth to comply, but Purple Braids blurts out, “Wait. I’ve got just the thing.”

While Purple Braids jogs back up to the front of the ship, Dark Hair looks at the baby. “We’re not going to hurt him, you know.”

Rush says nothing. Dark Hair’s fist tightens in Rush’s hair, the next thing to painful.

“It’s justice, what we’re doing.” Dark Hair frowns at him.

Rush stays silent.

Evidently the man must feel Rush’s skepticism, though he’s not said a word and kept his disgust off his face.

“Look, little man,” Dark Hair says, trying for reasonable. “Everyone knows how much harm his family has caused to society. For money. Everyone knows how many deaths should be on their conscience, but they don’t care. They have too much money for the broken legal system to bring them to court. They should all get the death sentence, it would be only fair. But that isn’t happening and we’re tired of seeing them get away with it. So, this is Karma. They sell drugs that should never be sold, they’re addictive as hell and almost impossible to stop using once you start, and so many families’ sons and daughters have died because of them.” He takes a deep breath, then continues with his rant. “So we take their child, to bring attention to our cause, because they own the media and they squash the stories that should have been published about the danger of their drugs. We ask for a ransom high enough to fund our efforts to stop them, to educate people to the danger, to stop the doctors from prescribing them.”

Rush says nothing, but he shifts so that his left arm lays protectively over the babe.

Dark Hair laughs softly, but there’s no humor in it. “It’s good you’re here, because none of us want to even touch that devil’s spawn.”

Rush says nothing.

Dark Hair scowls at him. “Sure, he’s an innocent baby. Now. But he’ll grow up to be just as much a monster as his parents and grandparents. I don’t want to touch him, because I don’t want to hurt him and I just might when I think about how my mother killed herself after my brother and sister overdosed and died on the drugs his family sold to mine. So you take care of him, and when we give him back, we’ll take care of you. You aren’t going to die, little one.”

Rush says nothing.

Purple Braids returns and puts some sort of monitors on Rush’s temples, yanks up his T-shirt to attach them to his chest and his back, his wrists. He turns on a monitor about the size of Eli’s cell phone and jabs at it.

“Okay,” he says. “Now we’ll know if you’re telling the truth. What’s your name, little man?”

* * *

They ask him four times the same bloody questions. They don’t believe him at all, but their truth detector convinces them that he believes what he’s saying. So, they decide that he’s insane.

“So you’re Nicholas Rush,” Dark Hair says, and there’s a smile curling up his lips. “Aren’t you a little short for being him?”

“No.”

Purple Braids chuckles and says, “I read that Colonel Young fucked you. Like, all the time. Also, that he left you on a planet to die, but the Nakai found you and you ended up stealing a ship from them and coming back to Destiny and you saved Chloe Armstrong from them, too.” Purple Braids grins, and Dark Hair rolls his eyes.

“You and your fringe theories,” Dark Hair says, shaking his head.

“What? Those sources are credible.” Purple Braids pouts back at Dark Hair, his eyes dancing with mischief.

“They’ve been debunked and you know it,” Dark Hair sighs. “And stop feeding into his delusions. We’ll find out who he is. My guess is he’s from one of those outsider clans. I’ve never heard anyone speak with the accent he has. Go and get the testing kit out of our supplies. We’ll send his data off to M-,” Dark Hair stops himself. “To our contact and he’ll run a genetic scan and search the databases.”

Purple Braids leaves, and Dark Hair looks at Rush. “Outsider you may be, but we’ll still find out who you are and where you come from.” Licking his lips, he reaches out and tousles Rush’s hair.

He stills himself, trying to keep from flinching. Dark Hair stays silent, too, until his buddy returns, a small kit in his hand.

Purple Braids nudges Dark Hair. “You know what we discussed with our ally.”

Dark Hair nods. “It’s better than killing him.”

“Dr. Rush,” Purple Braids intones, sounding like a fucking git, “have you ever had sex with a man?”

Fuck. His heart starts beating like it wants to fly right out of his chest.

“His heart rate just shot up to 150.” Dark Hair says, eyebrows raising.

“Answer the question, Dr. Rush.” Purple Braids says, with a note of glee.

“Yes.” he says, in almost a whisper.

“With a woman?”

“Yes.”

“Have you had oral sex with a man?”

“Yes.”

“Did you suck his dick?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like it when a man sucks your dick or you suck his?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you like it when a man fucks you in your hole?”

“Sometimes.”

“Is is true that the Lucian Alliance and Colonel Telford tied you to a table for three days and took turns raping you, and that Colonel Young did too, in order to save your life?” Purple Braids is sniggering at his own damn question.

Rush closes his eyes. “Yes,” he whispers.

“Cut it out,” Dark Hair says curtly to Purple Braids. “Stop playing into his delusions. Get the testing done.”

“You’re no fun,” Purple Braids complains, but takes blood and hair samples and swabs his cheek, goes back to the front and busies himself with their computer system.

The baby starts to stir, and Dark Hair looks down with distaste. “Keep him quiet. Hopefully, we won’t be stuck with him too much longer.” He takes off all the monitors, packs them away.

He places both hands on Rush’s face and forces a quick, hard kiss on his lips. “I’ll be back later and we’ll have a good time.” He shrugs. “Well, I’ll have a good time.”

* * *

They must have survived, he thinks. The other crew. The other crew must not have died in the wormhole when they’d failed to arrive on Earth. They must have gone back in time and founded a new civilization. It’s the only answer that makes sense, unless something will happen in the future that causes the current crew to leave Destiny and settle on a planet.

He’s been taken by the descendents of his crewmates. If this event happened when David Telford had convinced the SGC to dial Earth while they were inside a star, they’ll be no DNA of his here.

There’s some kind of plan to dispose of him, after he’s no longer needed to care for the child. Given the kiss and the questions, he’s very afraid it will involve having sex against his will.

The two who interrogated him, they’re activists who’ve decided violence is needed for their cause. The other man, the tattooed one, he strikes Rush as a criminal type that the other two have hired for his knowledge and ability to navigate in the underworld of this society. Someone who could take out bodyguards and knew of relatively safe places to hide while the family was given their ransom demands.

Some part of their plan had gone awry, who ever they had been waiting for on that planet had missed their check-in time.

They are becoming desperate, and desperate men become willing to do despicable things. Like murder a child and bury the evidence along with any witnesses to their crime. To indulge themselves, to take out their frustration and anger on someone who can’t fight back. He can’t trust their word that they won’t harm the child or kill him.

Everett, Everett must know by now what’s happened. He bites his lip, and starts thinking hard about calculations. He can’t become emotional. He can’t let himself re-experience the terror the Lucians had induced through raping and torturing him.

Those feelings, they want to batter down his barricades and swarm him, take him under. He clings to the anger that has sustained him so far towards these kidnappers for stealing a baby from his family and for taking him from his. . .

His family. Not just Everett, he realizes. Chloe, Greer, Eli, Ginn, Tamara, Brody and Park and, fuck, even Volker. A rather snide voice in his head points out that you actually didn’t have to like all the people in your family, which accounts for why Volker made the list.

Walking the baby while multiplying large prime numbers together and determining if the answer was a prime, he devotes time to this endeavor until he calms and starts planning. He will survive, and if that means letting himself get fucked or sucking cocks, he will do it until he can save himself and this child.

Everett will look for him. Everett will never again let Rush be left behind. He holds to that belief like a drowning man holds onto a lifeline.

* * *

“Here.” Rush jolts from the doze he’d been in, causing the babe to startle before relaxing back against him, secure in the makeshift baby sling. He opens his eyes cautiously.

Purple Braids is crouched down in front of him, holding out two sandwiches. “I brought you something to eat. You’ve gotta be hungry.” He’s famished; it’s probably been more than twenty-four hours since he left Destiny. He’d had one of the fruits he’d been collecting on the planet, something like an apple that tasted more like grapes, but he hadn’t actually eaten on board before going down to scavenge. Stupid of him, he does know better.

He imagines Everett giving him a skeptical look over the top of his reading glasses, if he was to find out. “I’m never calling you ‘genius’ again, genius,” he’d threaten, with absolutely no credibility.

Fuck, he can’t think about Everett right now.

“Hey, you want it?” Purple Braids asks.

Rush nods, takes the food and a water bottle from the man. He’s young, and reminds Rush of his graduate students, back when he was a professor of maths. It’s something about his air of curiosity and annoying questioning about Rush’s life that makes him think so.

“We’ll be in space for two more days. My buddy will have tracked your information down by tomorrow. You know, I’m really interested in what he’s going to turn up. You’re different. Are the people you come from all tiny like you? I mean, any genetic problems like that are fixed before the baby is even born usually, so are you from somewhere that’s way, way off from any civilization? I don’t really think you’re the original Dr. Rush, I was just messing with my friend.”

Rush shrugs, unwraps a sandwich and begins to devour it.

Purple Braids sighs. “I wish you hadn’t been where you were on that planet. But you’d probably be dead right now if we hadn’t taken you. So, the way we’ve been figuring, your life belongs to us. That guy up there, he knows people. He figures you’re his bonus, because it’s taking longer to give the kid back. I’m not gonna tell him no.”

Rush stops eating, the food sticking in his throat. Fuck. He’s been cast as property. He resolutely finishes, but it’s tasteless to him.

“He’ll find a place for you where you can’t make any trouble for us,” Purple Braids goes on. “You’re crazy anyway, so maybe it’s better you’re going to start over. You won’t remember your past life, he says. They’ll make sure you enjoy your new job. You’ll be okay, and really, you should be under someone’s care, being a crazy person.”

It’s useless to try and convince them he is who he says he is. Fuck, he’s got to get away but there’s no chance while he’s in space, collared like this and tied to a bulkhead like he’s their dog. But if he’s to be drugged and mindwiped, he must escape before he forgets who he is and no longer knows about Destiny and his crew.

“Hey, we’ll let you get a shower pretty soon. I think he,” and he points to Mr. Tattoo, “wants to take inventory, try you out. Word to the wise? Don’t do what you did on the planet and fight. You’re just going to get hurt worse.”

The baby starts whimpering and moving, and Purple Braid’s expression turns distasteful. “Keep the brat quiet, okay.”

Rush rocks the child, trying to soothe him; the man gets up from crouching in front of him. “We won’t let him get hurt, but honestly, if he gets on our nerves, you’ll be the one those two take it out on. I won’t. I won’t hurt you.” He traces Rush’s lips with a finger. “Unless you bite me when I’m fucking your mouth. But you’ll be good, won’t you?”

He slips his finger in Rush’s mouth and says, “Show me.”

Closing his eyes, Rush pushes aside the feelings of dread and violation. He’s survived worse. He needs these fuckers to underestimate him, to think he’s cowed and broken, so he won’t fight them, not now.

Rush moves his tongue around the finger in his mouth, playing with it, then sucks on it, bobbing his head in imitation of giving a blow job.

He can do this. For himself and for this child to survive, he can be their whore.

* * *

Chapter 36: Searching

“Sir.” Matthew lays a hand on Everett’s shoulder, standing next to him on the Bridge. He sits up straighter in the command chair and notices that everyone else at their stations have their heads bent over their monitors, absolutely ignoring the two of them.

Maybe that’s to give Matthew and him privacy, or, he thinks with a wince, they don’t want to be collateral damage if he explodes into an anger outburst at what his first officer is about to bring up.

He holds up a finger, stalling for time. Matthew’s stepped up to the plate to tell him he needs to get some rest, that it’s time to go off shift. He’s not wrong. Everett has been on the Bridge for sixteen hours, ever since his meeting at Homeworld Command had been interrupted, and he’d been pulled back to Destiny into a cluster fuck.

Nick kidnapped, teams on the planet in danger, robot ships attacking them.

They’d gotten the crew back safely and had destroyed the first two ships that had been alerted by their using the stargate. They’d jumped afterwards, but where ever they tried to emerge to search for Nick they’d been hemmed in by robot ships and it took almost all their reserves to blow through the blockade and finally escape. The ship had taken damage, too, but thankfully no one was seriously hurt. A few broken bones, one or two mild concussions. TJ has her hands full in the infirmary.

They were solidly in safe territory. Well, safe according to the Science Teams calculations. Of course, they’d thought the planet where they were replenishing supplies had been safe. The plus or minus factor to these calculations could mean the difference between being killed and staying alive.

He has no idea where Nick is. He wants to stay here on the Bridge; he wants to give orders to stop at every fucking planet and look for the energy signature Eli and Chloe identified before the small ship that took Nick disappeared.

“Sir,” Matthew says again, and there’s a world of hurt in the one syllable word. Matthew’s eyes seem lost in memory. He’d been in Everett’s shoes when Chloe was taken by the Nakai. Matthew had been in such pain, wanting to go himself to the Nakai ship and search for her. Everett remembers how he, himself, felt so helpless, how wrong it had been that a member of his crew had been plucked from Destiny and tortured by the Nakai.

Nick had saved her. A prisoner of the Nakai, too, he’d used the small amount of help that Everett had been able to give him, freeing him from the water tank, and had rescued himself and Chloe.

It was always a mistake to count Nick out.

Another grasp of his shoulder and Everett sighs. “Lieutenant, walk with me. Corporal Barnes, you have the Bridge.”

* * *

They stride down the corridor in silence until they come to the nexus. He doesn’t want to sleep, although he feels exhausted. He doesn’t want to crawl into bed and catch the faint scent of Nick on the sheets, because he’s afraid he’ll fall apart if he does. It feels like he swallowed a boulder, his head throbs, but he’s the captain of this ship and these people are depending on him. So like so many other times, he locks away his anxiety and dread and grief, so he can do his god damned job.

“Where’s the Science Team?” Everett asks. After they’d gotten away from the last of the robot ships, Eli, Chloe, Ginn, Lisa, Dale, and Brody had been sent by him to brainstorm ways to find the kidnappers.

Matthew says quietly, “Working the problem. They’re in the Apple Core. Oh, and Camile’s joined them. She hypnotized Dunn.”

“She what?” he says, knowing he sounds stupid. He and Matthew step into the elevator and Matthew pushes the button to travel to the Control Interface room .

“Dunn came to her, sir. Said he wanted to remember as much as he could about how Dr. Rush was abducted to help find him.”

Dunn and Nick aren’t friends. Oh, Nick was polite to him, but they didn’t really socialize. His expression must convey his confusion because Matthew smiles and says, “I think, sir, you might underestimate the regard Dr. Rush has earned from the crew. He saved our asses from the Lucians. That’s not been forgotten. You can bet your life that Greer makes sure of that. Dr. Rush can be cranky and get snarky all he wants, the crew mostly either ignores his bad mood or do something to bring him out of it. He’s our grump. Although, I think he’s eased off on that a lot. Most people figure it’s because you’re looking out for him now, and he’s getting more sleep and being dragged off to eat. Greer and TJ say we should have made Doc eat and sleep regularly from day one.”

The elevator comes to a halt.

He can’t help it. Tears start to well up in his eyes. Nick’s human and has his faults, but he is a good man, and hearing that the crew has figured that out and don’t resent him like they did at first, it’s kind of killing his stoicism.

Mathew clears his throat. “Sir, if you don’t mind, I need to check in with Greer. He’s running drills with the military in case we get boarded by the robot ships. I’ll join you and the Science Team later.”

Lieutenant Matthew Scott is an excellent second in command. He waves him off, watching as Matthew strides down a different corridor and takes a few moments to get himself back under control.

He takes a few deep breathes, wipes his eyes. He’s tired enough that probably any redness will pass for eye strain. When he’s sure he’s back to being the commander these people deserve, he strides purposefully down the corridor and enters the Command Interface room, as Nick always refers to it, or as the rest of the crew call it, the Apple Core.

* * *

“It just doesn’t feel right,” Eli says. Everett motions at him to continue. He’s already heard their strategy for setting up the long range sensors to search for the elusive energy signature of the kidnapper’s ship.

The universe is so fucking big. It’s something that intellectually they all know, but thinking of finding one man in it makes it real. Heartbreakingly real. He may never see Nick again.

“What, Eli?” Brody says, and he looks exhausted. They all do, the entire team, and Camile. Some are leaning against the walls, others are sitting at the monitors that surround the nexus of controls that comprise the Control Interface center.

“The body language is wrong,” Eli says, eyebrows drawn together as he gestures with one hand. “Okay, I know I’m not a father yet, but why would a parent make some total stranger pick up and hold their tiny baby, when they could do it? I wouldn’t do that. Lisa, Ginn, would you do what those guys did and make some dude you just kidnapped be your babysitter? I would be scared to death he’d throw the baby at me or hold the baby as a hostage to get them to turn him loose. So, what does this suggest?”

Lisa puts a hand protectively on her slightly rounded belly. “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let a stranger touch my kid. So, it means that they don’t care about that child. Doc wouldn’t do anything to hurt a baby, and I think they’ve used that against him instead of the other way around. Dunn said that Doc made a break for it, but that they did something like zat him, because he fell down and was shaking, then they indicated for him to pick up the baby. Probably the baby isn’t their child at all.”

Ginn looks to Eli. “They have possibly kidnapped the child as well? They were hiding on that planet, and look at how they ran when they realized they weren’t alone anymore.”

Camile nods her head. “I agree. And then there’s this. They are humanoids, and what is the likelihood that another human species just developed on the other side of the universe from Earth?”

Brody snorts. “Not much. But Dunn said they were a lot taller and bigger than Doc. So even if they developed from Earth stock, possibly there are some significant differences.”

Volker gave a tired huff, scoffing at what Brody just said. “Three subjects isn’t a large enough sample to draw that conclusion. Also, most of our crew are taller and bigger than Rush, so what does that prove?”

“Who cares how tall they are! The real question is where did they come from?” Eli says, sounding frustrated. “And how can we use what we’ve figured out to find Doc?”

“My father told me that the Gou’ld captured people in ancient times and seeded them through the Milky Way to be their slaves. Maybe something happened like that here?” Chloe asks.

Everett says, tiredly. “Daniel Jackson couldn’t find any records that the Ancients or Gou’ld did that this far away from the Milky Way galaxy. My guess is that we are the origin of these people. We know that the stargate can throw people forward or backward in time if interfered with by solar flares. It’s happened to SG1. And we lost an entire crew through the stargate when we dialed inside a star. Maybe they didn’t die. Maybe they were sent back in time and survived.”

“Or something happens to us in the future that sends us back in time and we have to ditch Destiny,” Eli adds.

“So there is a society here that is high tech, and we think that these men who took Dr. Rush are criminals. We need to find the government of this society and ask for their help,” Camile says.

“Agreed,” Everett says. “We’ll look for them well within what we think is the safe territory from the robot ships. A colony on the fringes of where the robot ships patrol probably would have been destroyed. Chloe, Eli, plot our course and get with Dale and Brody. You two,” he points at Dale Volker and Adam Brody, “program the long range sensors for signs of civilization. Ginn and Lisa, set up repair teams for the damaged areas, coordinate with Lieutenant Scott. And take turns getting some sleep. If we have to deal with a strange government, we need to be sharp.”

“Sure,” says Eli. “Are you going to take your own advice, because frankly, you look like crap.”

Leave it to the civilians to point something out most of the military would be hesitant to do. He attempts to smile at Eli, but he knows he’s missed that by a long shot. “Yeah, Eli. I will after I meet with Scott and Greer. Wake me up if you find anybody out there.”

* * *

He expects to lie there sleepless in the bed where he slept and made love to Nick, where Nick would sit cross legged working on a laptop while Everett did calisthenics bare chested in his boxers on the floor next to him, until Nick would give up trying to concentrate, muttering about how Everett was such a bloody distraction. He would slide down to the floor and entice Everett to do pushups over him, Everett kissing him each time he lowered himself and Nick flicking his nipples as he raised himself, until he’d done a hundred pushups and Nick’s eyes were wide and pupils dilated with arousal.

He said he was seeing if he could distract Everett from his task the way Everett had just done to Nick, but that was horseshit. Nick just enjoyed Everett’s muscles. Everett saw no point in calling him on that; Nick was ornery enough that he’d stop his little game and Everett relished it too much to risk it ending.

He thought he might break down and cry, grieving for Nick, afraid he’ll never see him again.

Instead, he grabs Nick’s pillow and holds it tight against him, and tries to think what Nick would do if their situation was reversed, what brilliant strategies he might use to find Everett.

He drifts away into sleep without even realizing it.

He tumbles through dreams, fragments of his life colliding together in haphazard ways, weaving a narrative that is nonsensical and hallucinogenic and heartrending. He and TJ and Nick are playing peek-a-boo with Carmen, but then he’s walking through the stargate with his old team, Nick by his side with a P-90 clipped to his vest only to see Emily and David beckoning to them to come look at a pile of tumbled down stone pillars that reminds him of Stonehenge. Nick walks into the center of what had been some kind of standing stone circle, nods to David, while Emily looks at her watch and gives him a quick kiss to the cheek, saying she was late for work. She hands him divorce papers and she’s gone.

David claps him on the back and jogs back towards the stargate with the rest of his team.

Misty colors rise up around Nick and it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen and it brings him to tears as Nick’s molecules slowly dissolve into the shimmering mist.

He knows that it’s because of Nick’s Ancient DNA that this has happened, he’s ascended. Everett feels tears, a cold burn as they trickle down his face, and he can’t leave. He can only stare where Nick left him, and knows he’ll never see him again. He’s so alone now, and the sky darkens and stars travel overhead and a bright red moon rises, full and foreboding, and in the light his hands look like they were bathed in blood.

Then he’s back on the desert planet where he left Nick to die and he sees him lying there in the dirt and runs to him, drops to his knees and rolls him over. Nick opens his dead eyes and says, “Did you want to kiss me then, Colonel?”

Then he’s fucking Nick while he’s tied down to the table, the entire crew watching him be violated by Everett, with Simeon urging him to finish so he could have his turn. Nick’s mind isn’t there, his eyes open but glazed over, and Everett knows this is all his fault. He should have vented the air in the gate room immediately and stopped the Lucian Alliance from taking over the ship.

He walks away from the Mess, Simeon raping Nick now, with the Alliance members jeering and Chloe standing there beside Nick with tears running down her face, blue metallic patterns embossed on her bare arms from her time with the Nakai.

He’s drinking Brody’s moonshine and looks at himself in the mirror, sees his unkept and dirty hair, his eyes bleary with dark circles under them, his uniform a disgrace when the alarm sounds; the Lucian Alliance is coming through the stargate.

Nick finds him in his quarters drunk and tells him he’s not the man for this job, that he should let someone else be in charge. He’s not wrong, but they’ll have to make do with him. He pulls Nick to him and kisses him. Whispers in his ear that he’s a lot of work. They leave together and organize the crew to defend Destiny from Kiva.

Then Nick’s bleeding out as Everett tries desperately to stop the spurts of arterial blood from spraying from the wound that should have been Everett’s. Nick had taken it for him, and it should have been Everett dying, not Nick.

He’s dead. Nick is dead. He’s lost him.

Colonel Young, Everett.

Everett feels himself wrenched away from that last heartbreaking dream. He’s on the Bridge, sitting in the Command Chair and there’s a skeleton thin blonde woman standing in front of him, dressed in a hospital gown. She looks pale, her hair dry and brittle. She’s very ill, obviously.

This isn’t a dream. He’s not sure how he knows that, but he does.

Just as he knows who the woman is, or rather, what has taken the form of Rush’s dead wife.

“Should I call you Gloria or Destiny?” he asks the AI. “Why have you contacted me?”

“I can help. And despite my appearance you know I am Destiny’s AI. Nicholas, he would become confused at times as to my actual identity. It became. . . a problem.”

“Then why did you appear to him as Gloria? Did you not realize how painful that would be for him?” He surprises himself with the anger in his voice.

Destiny shrugs. “Emotions are not always clear to me, Everett, so no, I didn’t realize it was in some ways hurting him. I appeared as Gloria because it was the strongest image in his mind.”

“Why am I seeing you as Nick’s deceased wife? I never even met her.”

Destiny’s eyebrows draw together, her lips purse. “Perhaps this is the wrong form to take. I will try another, more familiar to you, but not so familiar that you mistake me for him.”

Her form shimmers for a moment, then a thin boy is staring at him, arms crossed defiantly over his chest. His features are elfin, his dark hair on the long side and shaggy. He’s got a black eye, and a dark bruise on his cheek, and his clothes look worn and are too big for his frame. Everett swallows hard because he recognizes those features, although the kid looks no older than twelve or thirteen.

Destiny says, her voice lilting with Nick’s accent but stronger somehow, the years of education no longer blunting it. “You’re still unconscious, Everett, though no dreaming. Not sure you’d see me if ye were awake. But, we will see. Ye might no remember our conversation when ye do open your eyes. Nicholas could, but then, he’s more like the Ancients who built me then t’ others of your crew.”

Little Nick strides abruptly towards him then and touches Everett’s forehead.

He wakes, the sheets feeling unpleasantly damp from sweat, and his first thought is that he wants a shower. Damn nightmares.

“Colonel Young,” says a young sounding voice. “Are ye awake now and do ye ken who I am?”

Everett flicks on the bedside light and his eyes take in this younger version of Nick. He’s small for his age, he can tell. The kid is sitting cross-legged on top of his desk, and he’s got a lit cigarette in his hand. Everett can smell the burning tobacco. Little Nick, AKA the ship’s AI, takes a deep drag, cigarette held between two fingers, then coughs harshly as he breathes out.

“I do, Destiny. Now, how can you help?”

* * *

They’re sitting in the Mess, Everett having called an early morning meeting with the Science Team and Matthew, Camile, and TJ. Everett’s explained in detail his experience with Destiny’s AI, from the dream-like conversation to the visual representative of the AI in his room when he woke up.

They’re quiet, thinking about what the AI told him about how they can narrow the search for civilization in this section of the galaxy.

Eli breaks the silence.

“Wow, that was super freaky,” Eli says, “Not talking to the AI, I mean, that part’s cool as hell, but the AI looking like little juvenile delinquent chain smoking Rush, that’s crazzzzy.”

“You don’t know he was a juvenile delinquent, sounds like he was just poor,” Brody throws in.

“The way the Colonel described his appearance, to me that sounds more like a neglected child or an abused child,” Lisa says, frowning. “Where did he get the black eye and the bruise?”

Volker snorts. “Knowing Rush, he probably pissed off somebody bigger and tougher and they gave it to him.”

Chloe says, more to herself than to the rest of them, “It might have been his father.” She looks like she regrets saying that as soon as the words leaves her lips.

Nick wasn’t big on confiding things about his childhood to most people, but besides him, Chloe was the most likely. They had a bond born of shared terror and sleepless nights spent drinking tea and talking.

Everett holds up his hand. “Guys.” He waits till the entire group is looking at him. “You’re missing the point. Yeah, maybe all your speculations about Rush’s childhood are right, but the AI didn’t show up to point them out. If the ship’s correct, we can narrow down where to locate help to find him. The program should be up and running by now.”

“We’re on it,” Eli says, and Ginn slips off the bench to talk to Becker, returning with breakfast wraps and two large mugs. Eli takes the mugs from her and they leave.

Brody and Camile are talking quietly together, and Brody nods his head. They stand up, and Camile turns to him. “Everett, Mr. Brody and I will report to Homeworld Command and the IOA. We’ll see if we can find any data similar to what Destiny has on the range and limits of other accidental time travel associated with solar flares, or flying through a star and use of the stargate. At the very least, we’ll have the reports from SG1’s time travel mishaps.”

“Good idea. Grab something to eat first.” From experience, he knows their food often tastes strange to the people they bodyswap with and they’ll hold off eating it. Nobody wants to switch back to find they’re starving. Of course, everyone takes the opportunity to eat and drink things they can’t get on board, when they’re in borrowed bodies at Homeworld Command.

Brody and Camile make a good team. She’ll handle the IOA and the bureaucracy of Homeworld Command and he’ll work with the scientists on the technical questions.

Matthew moves closer to him, puts a warm hand on his arm. “Sir, I’ve been thinking; we should be running drills with selected teams in case we need to extract Dr. Rush ourselves if this government we’re looking for drags its’ feet or doesn’t want to help.”

“My thoughts exactly, Lieutenant. You, me, Greer, and James will head them up. TJ or Camile can take command depending if it’s a diplomatic standoff or a military one.” His hands clench but he forces himself to relax them again. Nick he thinks, picturing again what Dunn had told them, how Nick had been hurt, forced into that ship with a baby in his arms.

Matthew looks like he wants to point out that putting Everett in the field when he’s compromised by his relationship with Nick isn’t exactly recommended, but wisely he stays silent. Nothing, nothing, about this mission since they crashed through the stargate onto Destiny’s deck has been done by the book; there’s no way he’s not going after Nick himself if he’s held hostage still.

He’d sworn to himself he’d never leave Dr. Rush behind again, way before he and Nick started sleeping together. He’s not about to break that promise.

He allows himself another brief moment of anxiety and agony, wondering if Nick was being hurt now or had been dumped into space, then locks himself down. Hang on, Nick, he thinks. This is one fucking promise I’ll keep.

* * *

Destiny comes though for them, and Everett wonders if the ship would have given them any help if it had been any other crew member abducted and lost in this galaxy. He doubts it. Destiny and Nick have a strange, eerie relationship, Nick’s theory being that he happens to have more Ancient genes than other crew members and this attracted Destiny’s attention to him. The ship was built and launched prior to the technology that Atlantis has, nothing lights up for Nick or turns on like it does for Jack O’Neil, John Sheppard, or Carson Beckett with Ancient artifacts they’ve found or the whole goddamned city of Atlantis.

It was still three long days before they dropped out in a solar system with outer gas giant planets and head for the planet Destiny’s algorithm has selected as the most likely to be where the alternative crew had landed. It’s lovely, blue and green and brown with white swirls of clouds, a very Earth-like world, according to the data the seedships have sent to Destiny. The long range sensors show proof of an advanced civilization.

Everett is on the bridge when their hailing messages are finally returned, Camile by his side. The language they hear is understandable but still comes across as odd and accented, but Everett is used to that from his time traveling through the stargate back in the Milky Way. Most of the crew have probably gone through the gate enough times to allow for the changes in their brains, a parting gift from the Ancients that he really doesn’t like to think about too much, that Ancient technology has modified their minds to be essentially universal translators.

They again identify themselves as Destiny and report that one of their crew has been abducted and ask for the assistance of the government or governments of this world to find him. They state their intention to go into geosynchronous orbit and to meet with planetary leaders.

He hears the disbelief in the voice that asks for that data to be repeated.

Everett’s not in the best mood. Nick has been in his kidnappers’ hands for almost a week now and he has no patience for some junior officer’s confusion trying to get his head around that a mythical ship from the dawn of their civilization is asking to park overhead.

He catches Camile’s eye as he’s out of the Command Chair and moving to the communications station.

She nods firmly at him and says “Give’m hell, Colonel.”

He nods back, and James practically leaps out her chair to give him access.

He snarls into the device, “This is Colonel Everett Young, from Homeworld Command. Yes, this ship is Destiny, built by the Ancients long, long ago and launched from Earth in the Milky Way galaxy. Yes, we’re no doubt your ancestors. We’re not here to compare genealogies, so move it and get the highest ranking officer on the line. We’ve got a missing scientist to find and we don’t have time for any bullshit.”

* * *

Chapter 37: Captive

“Get up,” the tattooed man tells him, nudging him with his foot. He’d been dozing off and on for hours now, the baby asleep on his chest in the baby sling he’d improvised.

He’d been allowed a quick shower last night and then been told to go to sleep on the soft bench he’d been keeping to, the baby nestled against him as he’d curved his body protectively around the child. The babe hadn’t settled into his carrier at all, his small face screwing up to let out a loud bawl, so Rush had hastily picked him up before he let loose and antagonized their kidnappers. The babe still had a rash and a slight fever, he judged, but he calmed and went back to sleep.

As long as Rush was holding him, that was. Bossy little bugger when it came to wanting his comforts. Carmen was the same way, sometimes, and he’d found it endearing as she squirmed against him, thumb in her mouth, as she sleepily demanded he walk her up and down the room or corridor or sing to her or be snuggled against him in the bed when Everett had to leave with TJ over something idiotic a crewmember had done to injure themselves.

“Wake up,” the man orders, “I’ve got time to deal with you now. Stand up, and look at me, not the floor.”

Rush complies, standing slowly, his heart thumping so loud in his ears that he imagines the man before him can hear it, too.

“Really dark eyes,” Tattoo Man says, to himself more than to Rush. “Nicely shaped, a bit exotic looking. Customers will like that.”

He suspects what’s going to happen next, and tells himself that it’s nothing that hasn’t happened before and he’ll get through it. He doesn’t lie to himself that he’ll be fine.

He won’t be.

Not until he’s back on Destiny.

He has to be able to function, though, to escape, so he’ll try like hell not to let himself be lost in his mind like he was when the Lucians were raping him. He’s got this child to watch out for, he needs to be alert to any chance to get the upper hand on these wankers.

“Put the brat back in his carrier and undress,” the man orders. There’s no mercy to found in that expression, so Rush doesn’t bother to plead against what he’s sure is coming.

He does as he’s told, gently making the child comfortable and pulling off his T-shirt, ridding himself of his trousers and boxers.

The man hauls him into the center of the corridor, under a light. He runs both hands down Rush’s torso, feels his arm muscles, flicks his nipples, grabs his ass, pinches his thighs. He runs his hands through Rush’s hair, tugging harshly on it. “We’ll fix this,” he says to himself.

The fucker takes his face in both of his hands, caressing his cheeks with his thumb, frowning. “I’ll take care of the stubble.” To Rush he warns, “Don’t fight me or I’ll make you regret it,” then kisses Rush, bending down and pulling Rush up onto his toes.

He doesn’t try to stop him, even opening his mouth wide to the urging of the man’s tongue. When it’s done, the man pushes him away with two hands and frowns at him again.

“I’ll give you one more chance to kiss me back.” He twists one of Rush’s nipples hard and he lets out an involuntary sound of pain. “It had better be with some life to it this time, understand? You have an audition coming up. The bidders are going to want to see you perform.”

“When?” he asks. “What about the child?”

The man smiles at him like a predator who’s decided to play with his prey. “Don’t expect answers just because you ask them. Put me in a good mood and we’ll see.”

He grabs Rush’s upper arm and pulls him down the corridor to where bedrooms are arranged, unlocks one and pushes him inside while he sits down on the unmade bed.

Rush stays silent and still by the door, his eyes downcast. He knows doing that won’t save him; there’s nothing he can do to stop this; there’s no one who can protect him from what’s going to happen. There’s nowhere to run, to hide.

Dinn, ah God, he can feel himself wanting to revert to that cowed, frightened man the Lucians had named. Please, he tells himself, just let Dinn be a facade, you’re still Nicholas Rush, you can still fight these fuckers. Let them underestimate you. Everett and Greer would approve. Greer had admired what he’d done to kill Simeon, had told him it was a good strategy to give the man a blow job so he could stab him in his unprotected groin.

He hears Everett’s voice in his head, saying again to him as he’d done so often after his torture and rapes, “Stay alive. Don’t kill yourself. I need you to stay alive.”

For Everett then. For Greer and Chloe and Park and the rest of his ridiculous science team, for Eli, who had carried him when he couldn’t walk, for TJ and Carmen, god, his sweet baby girl, for Camile, for the crew. For this poor wee babe taken from his home. For David, well, to prove to David he wasn’t the broken child David had thought he was, he will survive and not lose his fucking mind.

For Everett, because he loves that man, and it’s not the same as when he’d had his Gloria, they’re not interchangeable variables in the equation of his life, but Everett is who he wants and needs, to to be with him for the rest of their lives.

The man snaps his fingers at Rush. “Get down on your knees and crawl over here, then climb up on my lap. Ask me nicely to kiss you. A prostitute’s job is to please their customer, after all.”

Rush swallows hard. He stops himself from clenching his fists, keeps looking down at the floor. This man, his captor, his customer wants him to abase himself. It’s not enough to let him do what he wants, no he wants Rush to behave like sexual acts with him are wanted. Desired. He wants Rush to be an active participant in his own rape.

Fuck. Fuck the fucking universe and the destiny the fates have spun for him that keep returning him into being what Kiva had promised he would be: a ship’s whore.

He’d been spared that when he’d killed the Lucians before his month’s reprieve was up. He thought that would be the end of it. What a cosmic joke.

“Remember what that collar you’re wearing can do.” The man pats his lap. “Maybe that will help you be a good little whore. If I can’t turn a profit on you, I’ve no reason to keep you alive once the kid is gone.”

Rush’s arms wrap around himself, and the man sighs, says with a gentler tone in his voice, “It’s not a bad life. You’ll be taken care of, so just do as you’re told. You’ll enjoy the sex, once the drugs do their job.”

The man unzips his trousers, pulls his dick out so it’s exposed, leans back a little on his hands. He’s waiting.

Slowly Rush drops to his knees. He’ll have to playact he wants this, because he wants to live, he wants to find a way to escape and save the baby. He can’t afford to be weak from electric shocks or whatever else his captors do to harm him. He doesn’t want to end his life a frozen corpse drifting through space.

He crawls slowly to him, slides his hands up the man’s legs, kisses his knees, and climbs into his lap, facing him, naked, and the man pulls him down so his ass is sitting atop the man’s penis.

His legs are spread wide like this, and he feels so exposed, so very, very naked.

Closing his eyes briefly, he gathers himself. When he opens them again, he says, sounding shy to his own ears, “And can I kiss you then, please?”

* * *

The man had been delighted with his performance. He’d enjoyed Rush squirming atop him, the wantonness of his kisses, and to his great inner shame, the way his dick had stiffened against the man’s belly.

He’d been pushed off the man’s lap onto the floor, the man gripping his hair in one hand while he stroked himself a few times before coming on Rush’s face.

The man hummed to himself afterwards, as the orgasm relaxed him. Finally he stretches and says, “Good job, boy. Stay there on the floor.” When Rush tries to wipe his face with his arm, he says, “Leave it.” Rush slowly lets his arm drop back down. He feels dirty, used, humiliated. He longs for scalding hot water to beat upon his skin and face, He wants badly to wash the imprint of this man’s hands from his body, the sticky drips of his come from his face.

Stepping around Rush, the man sounds like he’s rummaging through drawers before he’s again standing in front of Rush.

“Stand up.” After Rush does he gives him a small shove towards the door, carrying a box under one arm. Once out in the corridor he directs him to enter the bathroom.

The man puts the box down carefully on the long counter, then grabs Rush and hoists him up next to the box. He wets a washcloth and wipes Rush’s face clean. Then he takes out a device from the box and manipulates the dial. “Say goodbye to your beard. With your build, we’ll want to play up you looking as youthful as we can. Stay put.”

The man walks out into the corridor, leaving the door open.

He’s left Rush alone, not retied him to anything, or bound his hands. He doesn’t think Rush is a threat. Good. If he keeps thinking that, maybe he’ll allow Rush more freedom to move about the ship. He can use that to his advantage.

Yes, tell yourself that, a sneering voice inside his head insists. That you capitulated without so much as a protest against being used like that because you’re playing a con against him, not that you’ve been cowed into obedience.

“Shut it,” he whispers to himself. “Just shut the fuck up.” He waits, not moving, hardly breathing. He feels tears wet his eyes, and he shuts his eyes fiercely willing them to go away.

They don’t.

He wipes them away with a clean section of the discarded washcloth. Useless things, tears. Making your eyes red, and your nose sniffly. Crying doesn’t change a damn thing.

He once said as much to Everett after he’d woken up tearful from a nightmare. Everett had wiped them from his face, and said, “I don’t know, genius. I figure there’s some good reason for them, or wouldn’t evolution have gotten rid of those genes? Besides, Camile and TJ say stress hormones are released in tears from being sad, or scared. Maybe we cry because it helps us to cope?”

Everett had wrapped himself around Rush then, and in the dark, feeling safe and warm and loved, he’d fallen back to sleep without any nightmares.

Tattoo Man returns with Purple Braids in tow, carrying some sort of kit in his hands. “He’s crying,” Purple Braids points out, with an appalling lack of tact. “You didn’t hurt him, did you?”

“I’ll do as I want with him; he’s my property, but he’s not been hurt.” Tattoo Man swipes at the tears that keep falling, despite him ordering his body to stop producing them. “I’ve got something to calm him down in my room. Let me get rid of that pathetic looking beard, and then you can work on his hair while I dig up the drug.”

Tattoo Man picks up the device and pushes down on a button until a gel is released into his hand. He proceeds to coat Rush’s scruff with it, rubs in into his skin until it’s gone. He takes the washcloth again and rinses it and wipes the loose hairs from Rush’s face. He washes his hands then and walks out of the room.

“So you know what he just did, right? I mean, surely even in whatever backwater place you come from, they’ve got the basics of civilized life probably.” Purple Braids sounds doubtful. Rush tells himself to ignore how his hands itch to pop the git in the nose.

Rush feels his skin tingling, but it’s not painful. Some sort of depilatory, he supposes.

Purple Braids picks up the device that had produced the gel and cocks an eyebrow at Rush after reading the setting. “Well, you’ll never grow a beard again. Not without a retrovirus to make new hair bulbs.”

Rush closes his eyes. Tattoo Man wanted him to look younger, he’d said. Fat lot of good losing his beard will do because he’s got a bit of gray hair mixed in with his brown mop. And he has crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, and hell, he damn well looks his age. Being slight and short isn’t going to make him look like a lad again.

Purple Braids hums as he opens his large kit. “You’re lucky I’m into hair and skin, man. I’ll fix you right up.”

Rush scrubs away the tears that keep leaking and wonders what exactly Purple Braids intends to do. He decides to risk talking to him. “What are you going to do, then? Dye my hair?”
Purple Braids wrinkles his nose. “Dye it?! Hell no, that’s. . . God, that’s like so two thousand years ago. You’re so backward!. . . God, can you even read and write?”

“Yes, I can.” His tears have stopped, his annoyance at this twit drying them up.

“Really?” Purple Braids looks skeptical. “Prove it, then. Here, read this.” He rummages inside the kit and brings out a pamphlet. No doubt instructions for whatever gadget is still in the case. He hands it to Rush and crosses his arms over his chest. “Dazzle me then, Dr. Rush. After all, you’re a genius according to the old records Eli Wallace left.”

“I never said I was that to Eli,” he mutters to himself, looking down at the words. They have some familiar letters but there’s a lot of symbols that are new. He stares at it, but it’s as readable to him as Egyptian hieroglyphics. Defeated, he hands it back to Purple Braids.

“Thought so,” Purple Braids says, smugly. “Okay, since you can’t read any of this, I’ll explain. I’m going to inject you with a retrovirus – you know what that is? – Well, never mind. This is probably going to seem like magic to you.”

Rush can’t help it. He rolls his eyes, and Purple Braids reaches out and grabs a good fistful of Rush’s hair. He pulls on it a bit, enough to send the message about who’s in charge here.

Purple Braids says, “I’m going to give you an injection that’s going to tell all your gray hairs to change colors. I’m going to give you a mix of, umm, let’s see, I think mostly a dark reddish brown, and some blond for highlights. And. . . with some brownish black color added in, for depth. I’d love to add some green and blue shades, but your owner nixed that. Only natural colors, he said. And then I’m going to give you another injection, one that’s going to repair skin and cell damage. You’ll look younger and it’ll slow down your aging. You’ll need shots every two years or so to keep it up, though. In the mean time, I can do some things to help you. Just how old are you anyway?” Before Rush can even think about answering, the man rolls his own eyes. “Forget it, I’ll just do a cellular check first.”

He takes several syringes out of the kit and lays them on the counter. He takes cheek swabs and small skin samples from his neck, belly and thigh and inserts them into the small machine he lifted out of the case.

While they wait for the machine to analyze those samples. Purple Braids measures doses into the syringes from another small machine. He injects the three syringes into Rush’s bicep, and rubs the injection site afterward, his hand then making longer and longer sweeps down Rush’s arm, finally he picks up Rush’s hand. “I’ll paint your nails, too. Got to make you pretty for your new job.” He turns Rush loose and looks through a drawer, and takes out a couple of small bottles of polish and a nail clipper and file.

“Hold still,” he orders and gives him a manicure. It seems surreal to Rush. He’s never had nail polish on his fingernails before. It feels ridiculous. Purple Braids hums to himself as he examines the bottles before he picks a bright cheerful turquoise that sparkles and proceeds to paint both Rush’s fingernails and toenails.

He stays silent, lets this man do as he pleases. Tattoo Man comes back inside, produces another syringe, uncaps it and grabs Rush’s hip and rolls him part way over and gives it to him in his arse. His large warm hand rubs Rush’s backside where it was injected, and he’s tired of these man handling his body without his say so.

He doesn’t protest that the way these men are playing with him makes him feel like a doll.

The machine beeps and Purple Braids looks at the screen. “Okay, about what I expected. Early forties, I can knock off twenty years, at least. He’ll need regular treatments after he’s settled in his new home to keep that up, though.”

The length of a year here, based on whatever planet Destiny’s descendents had been sent to must be very close to Earth’s year. That machine had pegged his age fairly right.

“Oh, by the way,” Purple Braids points out, sounding like a posh bugger. “I’m chronologically fifty years older than you. See what taking care of yourself can do? Whatever backwater planet you came from, it’s pathetic that it doesn’t have this very, very, basic health care. We really did you a favor when we brought you on board.”

Rush feels odd. He can’t even muster up any annoyance at being told again that being kidnapped was good for him.

“Okay, I’ll program the machine for the cellular repair and give it to him, then I’ll do some more temporary work. Just let me find where I stuck my stuff.” Purple Braids looks in another drawer while Tattoo Man lifts Rush’s foot and touches a toe. He nods approvingly, then slides his other hand up Rush’s leg to his dick. He runs one finger down his length, then lifts his dick and weighs it in his hand. Rush feels a blush warm his cheeks, because Purple Braids is watching them.

“Ah, that’s cute,” Purple Braids says. “Blushing like that. I get him later, right?”

“Don’t fuck him with your dick. Anything else, including fingers, is fine.” Tattoo Man says, and begins stroking Rush. “What I gave him should start kicking in. He’ll be agreeable to whatever you do. Watch.” He begins to stroke Rush and he feels overwarm and God, what that man is doing feels pure dead brilliant. He watches himself swell and harden, and a small moan of want escapes him. He should feel ashamed and his erection die a swift death, but instead he gets even harder.

Fucking, fucking drugs. This is like what happened when he’d dosed himself with the Lucian sex drug he’d taken from Simeon the first night he went to David for sex. David had kept him from coming, even tying him up to prevent him from orgasming so that he wouldn’t end up addicted to sex. He ought to be terrified this drug will have the same effect but he really can’t be bothered to be anxious or fearful of that happening.

“Finish up,” the man orders Purple Braids, and he loses track of what’s happening, only paying a wee bit of attention when he’s given several more shots, and creams rubbed under and around his eyes and forehead, his cheeks, neck, and hands.

He’s trembling, and he’s trying not to come, because intellectually he knows this is shamefully wrong that he acts like this, and he’s going to go with his mind, not with what his treacherous body wants to happen.

Purple Braids laughs. “God, just look at him.” He touches Rush’s nipples with both of his hands and rubs them and pulls at them and the sweet pain from that joins to what the other man is doing with Rush’s dick and his body triumphs over his mind.

He comes hard, arching his back, screaming out his pleasure. Tattoo Man strokes him again and again wringing more bursts of pleasure from him. He pants, feeling so relaxed and he can’t be arsed to worry about what will happen now, to him, to the child. Tattoo Man wipes the come off his hand and onto Rush’s chest and belly before scrubbing the remnants away.

“Hey, look,” Purple Braids says, sounding delighted. “The virus is working.” He runs his hands through Rush’s hair. “It looks nice. Okay, I’m going to check back with my buddy. He should know who this little guy is by now.” He tugs on Rush’s hair. “I’ll see you later.”

Tattoo Man lifts Rush’s chin, look intently into his eyes. He mutters, “Maybe I should have used a smaller dose.” He lifts Rush down, steadies him. “Take a shower. The brat’s awake, so don’t take too long.”

* * *

“A Mhic lain ‘lc Shemais tha do sgeul air m’aire, air fa ra ra lo, air fa ra ra lo,” he sings softly to the baby, who looks utterly fascinated and is waving his hands and kicking his feet and making an unsuccessful attempt to roll over from his back to his stomach while Rush arranges what he needs to change the babe’s diaper so they’re close at hand.

He feels calm and the shower he’d had hours ago had been marvelous. He does so love to feel clean after. . . after unwanted sexual contact, and while he hasn’t forgotten the shame and humiliation from his last encounters with Tattoo Man and Purple Braids, it’s insulated away. For now. The drug will wear off and he’ll feel right miserable then.

He knows that he’ll be forced back onto a bed or the floor soon to be these men’s fucktoy again, but he’s shrugged that off. It will be what it will be, and the drug he was given won’t let him get worked up about it.

He strips off the baby’s clothes quickly because if he’d learned one thing during his apprenticeship as a baby minder, back when he was only a wee lad himself, it was that babies usually protested being changed and the faster the process, the less fussing was involved.

He does not want to bring their kidnappers’ attention to this child. All the assurances aside from the two renegade activists that they don’t want to hurt their little victim, he doesn’t trust them a jot to keep to that resolution if they get frustrated with screaming from the wee boy.

They’re on their way to a place to communicate how to exchange the baby for his parent’s money. That was what they’d been waiting for on the planet were they’d found him, and he gathered it went wrong, even before they’d stumbled on him picking fruit and decided to leave before the planet was pummeled by the robot ships. Perhaps the authorities had arrested their cohorts. Perhaps the smart thing to do was cut their losses and get rid of the child. They’d wanted the publicity to shine a light on how his parents’ fortune was made, built on the suffering of people addicted to the drugs manufactured by the baby’s family. They don’t actually need to return the babe to be a top story for the news.

He gives the baby a small bottle of oil to hold onto and, still singing that Runrig song that had caught his interest since it was sung in his Da’s mother tongue, he swiftly completes the change, placing a folded cloth over the baby’s groin to catch any unexpected stream of pee. He smiles, remembering how one of the little ones had done that and caught Mrs. Wallace straight in her mouth. The curses that had flown from the woman after that, he’d been in awe, as he hadn’t thought anyone could do better than his Da when he was mad wi’ it.

He lets the baby stay naked for a time; it’s good for his bottom to have just air on it for a bit. Before he diapers him he puts oil on his hands and smooths it over the babe’s skin. The rash is mostly gone now, and the baby’s temperature feels normal. It’s good that the little lad is feeling better. He puts clean clothes on him, as the baby had spit up a bit on what he’d been wearing. There’s not many clean outfits left and he wonders if there are laundry facilities on this smuggler’s ship.

His own clothes were incinerated and the ashes dumped into space. He’s a bit put out by that since the shirt he was given to wear is ridiculously large, more like a bloody dress. He knows better than to complain about it, though, and it’s better than being naked.

He’s guessed why they got rid of his clothes; Tattoo Man is being careful not to leave traces of him on the ship or to let him leave wearing clothes he might have been described as having on when taken.

He keeps singing since the baby likes it, humming where he’s forgotten the lyrics to various other songs, some from Scottish bands, some American. He often sang to Carmen, especially when they were alone; it was a bit of guilty pleasure. He rarely sang when others were about. He was afraid hearing him sing would make him seem a bit soft to the crew, especially the Science Team, although he didn’t mind TJ and Everett hearing him. He didn’t want the rest of his lot to perceive him as being. . . What? He asks himself. A person who liked things other than just math and science? Someone who indulged in time wasting activities when there were the hard problems that needed solving?

Ah, he was an idiot. Every one of the crew had seen him at his most human, his most vulnerable, seen him wet himself, beg for food and water, take dicks in his mouth and ass, cry and beg. His humming a few tunes or, god forbid, actually letting himself be dragged into one of their frequent talent shows to perform wasn’t going to matter compared to what they’d already learned about him.

He had enjoyed the dancing at Eli’s wedding, once he’d been boozed up enough to not care about looking like a daft person while he gyrated around the room.

If he ever got back. . . No. When he returned to Destiny, he resolved to do as he pleased, if he felt like a bit of music. Perhaps he’d see who wanted to swap songs. He had a good selection on his Ipod, after all. At least he could sing in tune, and that couldn’t be said about some of the others who shared their musical ability during talent shows.

Volker could sing well. He was passionate about classical music, too; Rush had been forced to listen to him and Brody squabbling over who they’d preferred often enough. Perhaps he’d add in his opinion the next time they went back and forth over their favorites.

Gloria of course had loved classical music. He’d loved watching her play it, so graceful with her violin. So beautiful, both in body and soul.

He realizes that whatever Tattoo Man injected him with allows him to remember his wife without the dull pain of loss accompanying his memories.

Everett and him, they were doing well now, and he’d re-found love and contentment he’d never thought he’d have again, but still he’d been grieving for Gloria. Seeing the AI as her had been painful indeed. He wonders if this calm acceptance of her passing will remain after the drug wears off.

This society he’s stumbled into appears to be more advanced than his own, at least in terms of bio-chemistry, if retro-viruses are bandied about like shaving cream or aspirin.

The baby scrunches up his little face into the expression that tells Rush the lad’s becoming hungry. He fixes a bottle and settles down on the padded bench to feed him.

“I wish I had the means with me to force you to make milk for him.”

Rush looks up, startled, and Dark Hair Man is there, smirking at him. He must look right confused, because the man pulls down Rush’s loose shirt and touches his nipple.

“Put him to your breast,” he commands, and his smirk becomes predatory.

“I don’t. . .” Rush begins but the man before him shakes his head and Rush falls silent. The man takes the bottle from the baby’s mouth and uses it to cover Rush’s nipple with milk.

“Do it,” he commands, and Rush complies. The baby squirms against him until he latches on and sucks for a brief time before an expression of outrage forms on his face. Before he can begin screaming for his dinner, Rush shifts him down a bit and puts the bottle back into his mouth.

The man laughs heartily, but doesn’t force Rush to repeat the farce of him breastfeeding.

“Okay, let him fill up, then he can just suck on your tits like a pacifier. Get your nipples all ready for me, later.”

The man settles down on the other side of the bench and pulls one of Rush’s bare feet into his lap, and begins molesting the tender arch, massaging and using pressure points and it feels so good. He closes his eyes, just for a minute, and the man laughs again.

“Yeah, you like that. We’ll have some fun soon.” He lets go of Rush’s foot, stands back up. “So, turns out we can’t actually identify who you are. There’s no record of you anywhere, and our source has searched for you in every database there is. My buddy up there has a theory that your ancestors must have gotten lost from our home planet within several generations of the founding, because all the DNA hits are only from some of the original crew of Destiny.”

“What?!” Rush says, dumbfounded. “That can’t be. How can that be? Your tests are wrong. I’m no related to anyone on board.”

The man smirks at him. “Sure. Long established scientific tests are wrong, versus a clearly delusional man. No, Little No Name, from some lost backward planet, this doesn’t prove you’re Dr. Rush from Destiny. You, like the rest of us, are just descended from the Destiny crew.” He stretches, looks down to check if the baby is finished with the bottle. “Let him suck on your nipples again. He’s going to sleep.”

Rush ought to feel extremely weirded out, as Eli would put it, by this order. But he doesn’t, he can’t seem to work up any indignation or humiliation over it.

Though it does feel odd as the baby sleepily suckles him. Apparently men here can do this, with the help of something, maybe hormones.

The man is leaning against the wall, watching him. He’s got quite the predatory look in his eyes, but it’s more of an academic exercise to note it, he’s not afraid of what will happen once the baby’s asleep.

Time passes; Dark Haired Man is content to observe him, although he does order Rush to switch to his other nipple.
When the baby lets the nipple fall out of his mouth, and doesn’t try to grab it again with his busy little lips, the man laughs and points to the baby carrier.

“Put him in there and take off that shirt. Then grab that little bottle of oil.”

Rush takes his time, fussing over the baby’s blanket, lifting the carrier up so it’s on the wide bed-bench. He fastens the babe into it slowly, stalling.

The man makes a point of looking at his watch. “Yeah, go on and waste more time. For every five seconds you’ve dragged this out, you’ve earned yourself a swat on the ass. The way you’re going, your butt is going to be bright red when I’m done with you.”

A spanking? Is the man serious? Rush wants to roll his eyes, but he quickly pulls off his overlarge shirt, lays it on the bench, picks up the oil. The man beckons him over with a crook of his finger, and when Rush stands before him, naked, the man glances again at his watch.

He smiles that predatory smile again. “This is going to hurt you more than me. But I’m not heartless. You’ll get your share of fun, too. Do as I say, and you’ll be rewarded. Pull any more of this passive-aggressive shit and you’ll find out what other punishments I can come up with. Understand, Dr. Rush?”

Rush nods, but the man shakes his head. “Say it out loud.”

“Aye, I understand, rewards for doing as you ask quickly, punishments for no being so eager to comply.”

He puts his hands on Rush’s nipples and pulls on them, rubbing and twisting, and they are tender and just a bit sore. Despite that, what he’s doing is going straight to Rush’s groin, and a low, heavy feeling is rising there and he feels himself becoming aroused, his brainless dick is plumping up, eager for more sensation.

The man laughs, gives Rush’s dick a quick caress. He lays hands on his shoulders to turn him in the direction of the ship’s cabins, and surprises Rush by giving him a stinging slap on his arse.

“That’s one,” the man says cheerfully. “My room’s the last one on the left.” Dark Haired Man’s hand is still on his shoulder and he delivers another strong smack, causing Rush to stumble forward, his arse tingling. “Get moving.”

* * *

The baby’s cries puts an end to his time being Dark Haired Man’s plaything. The man grumbles, rolls over Rush so that he’s trapped between the big man and the bedsheets and he finds himself being very forcefully kissed.

He minds the words of his self proclaimed owner, and kisses back. It’s just playacting; he’s an actor on a stage and he’s got to fool his audience into thinking this is what he wants. He’s rather proud of the way he chases after the man’s mouth when the kiss ends, panting as he catches his breath, the heavy body on top of him preventing him from any real movements, just fruitless squirming.

The man is smugness itself, smiling down at Rush. “I told you you’d like what I did to you, Dr. Ru--. No, I just can’t call you that, but by now your new identity should be finished, records inserted to give you a believable background. My buddy called dibs on naming you, since he had to work on all of that, while I got to have you first.”

The baby’s wailing has increased in tempo and volume, and Rush glances towards the door.

“I know, back to work for you. But I want you again. I think I’ll spank your butt twice as long next time. Are you ticklish, I wonder? They’ll be time to find out.” The man leans down and kisses Rush on the forehead then heaves himself up and off the bed. He grabs Rush, lifting him from the bed and setting him on his feet.

“You were a good fuck. I think you’ll do fine as a comfort worker.” The man takes his hand and walks him to the door. He opens it and nods his head toward the corridor.

He’s sent out the door with one last hard slap on his backside, and he rubs the sting away to the man’s amused laugh, before the door shuts behind him.

He stumbles his way to the babe, grabbing his oversize shirt and pulling it over his head. It feels wrong to touch the baby while he’s naked and unclean, come and oil covering a good bit of his skin. He desperately longs for a hot, long shower, but the wee boy needs attention now.

He takes him from his carrier, holds him firmly and pats his back, swaying back and forth as he murmurs to him that he’s fine now and to calm down. After a minute longer of the baby expressing his displeasure at the world, he does calm and begins wiggling in Rush’s arms trying to become horizontal, his tongue darting in and out, his mouth making sucking movements, his head bumping against Rush’s chest.

Well, it seems that Dark Haired Man’s insistence of letting the baby suckle his nipples has confused the poor little thing. “There’s naught there, my wean,” he says, “It’s a bottle you’re wanting.” But he shifts the baby so he’s against his chest horizontally so he can work one handed to fix a bottle, the baby mouthing at him through the fabric of the shirt.

He soon has things well in hand, feeds the child, changes him and rocks him back to sleep with soft songs that serve as a lullaby. “Is tric mi ‘sealltainn on chnoc a’s ‘arirde, dh’fheuch am fear a bhata. . . “ He does like to sing in Gaidhlig, even though he never desired to return to Scotland and certainly never back to Glasgow. Oh, Glasgow can be a beautiful city, but not the parts of it that he came from. He’s not ashamed of how he grew up, he rather thinks it made him a survivor. He got out of a life of poverty and harm but everyone he ever cared about from his childhood is dead, so he walked away from the land of his birth and gladly moved to England and then America. Now he’s walked away from his entire planet; he doesn’t want to return there. His life is on Destiny now. His people, his family are on Destiny. His life’s purpose is to understand Destiny, her mission, her systems, to bring her back to the full glory of first days when the Ancients launched her.

His bloody destiny is not to be a prostitute, a comfort worker, a sex slave. He’s going to get away from here.

He has to get away.

He, he prays to the universe he can escape.

He’s starting to feel a wee, wee bit of anxiety, just a minor twinge, and if he doesn’t want another shot of whatever that was that made him not be bothered by being these men’s possession, he’d best hide his unease and fear away. Obviously Tattooed Man didn’t quite know what dosage was best for him. He’d rather not get another shot of the stuff. Much more of it and he might not even want to leave, just lay back and enjoy all the physical stimulation and orgasms he’d be given by his three kidnappers.

They did seem to want him to show physical enjoyment. Perhaps it eased guilty consciences, although really, if they can kidnap an infant, raping him probably doesn’t even cause a twinge of some buried sense of morality.

At any rate, there’s only Purple Braids awake and working. Tattooed Man must have gone to his own cabin to sleep. Rush decides that he’ll see how far he can push his boundaries. He puts the sleeping child back into the carrier, and lifts it carefully, and walks quietly into the bathroom, carefully putting his wee lad down in a dim corner.

He keeps the light on low, and rummages in the drawers of the high counter for soap and shampoo. He wants to feel clean.

It’s so good to wash off the smell of the man who’d fucked him with his fingers, and he opens his mouth and lets the warm water wash out the taste of semen, scrubs away the oil and bodily fluids staining his skin. His arse is feeling the spanking he’d gotten, held down over the man’s lap. He’d made it a long drawn out bit of amusement, as every few slaps he’d reach down and stroke Rush’s dick before resuming warming his skin again.

No one has ever spanked him as an adult, although he’s quite sure David was working his way up to trying it out. Da favored his belt, not his hand. If he was spanked as a toddler, he doesn’t remember it.

He’s quite sure this won’t be his only spanking while he’s on board.

Finally he turns off the shower, dries himself and puts back on his only piece of clothing. He spends a long time brushing his teeth with the toothbrush he’d been given, and borrows somebody’s mouth wash.

The baby sleeps through all of this. Rush hopes he’ll sleep for a good while longer, since he’s going to stroll up to the bridge of this ship and see what he can learn about the controls. Purple Braids is a talkative bastard, and he likes to show up Rush’s ignorance. These are things he can use, especially late at night on a dark ship, with a man who’s likely a bit bored and alone. He’s going to offer a blow job to Purple Braids, to relax him, to make himself out to be submissive and harmless. He does wonder about what Dark Haired Man had told them about a new identity Purple Braids has been crafting. It can wait. Learning more about this ship is the priority.

There’s a very good chance Purple Braids won’t over think the voluntary offer of sex. After all, he’d watched him in the bathroom, hadn’t he? Seen how Rush had enjoyed what the two men had done to him.

He remembers, with a pang, how he’d basically offered sex to Everett to confuse him so he could inject him with a sedative when the idiot was determined to sit in the chair and kill himself when it wasn’t even needed. He’d not been aware that was what he had done until Everett had gently brought it to his attention. He’d kissed the man, when he could have done any number of other things to distract him. He’d been changed by Kiva, the sexual torment he’d endured.

If-- No. When he returns to Destiny, he wonders how his time with these men will change him. At least he’ll be on his guard. Everett will help him, and he can talk to Camile about anything.

He quietly walks towards the bridge – well, not exactly a bridge, not like Destiny’s – but where the ships systems monitors are located, three large chairs for a pilot and co-pilots. He places the baby’s carrier in another alcove with a bed-bench that’s near where Purple Braids has swiveled in his seat, watching him. If the baby starts to wake up and cry, he doesn’t want to be too far away from him. He’s not leaving him where men enraged about their sleep being disturbed might lash out and slap him or shake him.

“Hey, cutie,” Purple Braids says, as Rush approaches him, eyes downcast, trying to project that he’s small and harmless, no threat at all. “Feeling lonely?”

Rush covers his face with his hands, as if overcome by shyness, and nods.

“Come here, I want to take a good look at you, see how you’re doing.” Purple Braids waves him closer and closer until he’s standing by the man’s knees. He turns a dial and brighter light floods over the two of them. It makes Rush blink and squint until his eyes adjust to it. Good. He’ll be better able to see their systems this way.

He glances at Purple Braids and finds the man eyeing him up and down, lips pursed. “Hmm. Let’s get a better look.” He takes the shirt’s hem and pulls it up and off, then turns him with his big hands so he’s better positioned under the light. “Yes. I can see the retrovirus is working. You might start to feel too warm, a little fever. That’s not unexpected so don’t worry about it.” He runs his palms down Rush’s arms, legs, back, chest and belly. He grins when he squeezes Rush’s arse, eliciting an involuntary sharp breath from him and a wee flinch.

“My friend did spank you, I take it. Poor baby boy. Maybe I’ll kiss it and make it better.” He laughs then, and bops Rush on the nose. “Well, there you are. I caught that little eye roll you just did. Trying to be a good boy, aren’t you, but sometimes I bet you just can’t help being a little shit.”

Well, fuck. His acting skills need to step up, apparently.

He shrugs, says simply, “I want to live. If I’ve to show I’ll be a good whore to be spared being forced out an airlock, then so be it.”

Purple Braids ruffles his hair, then pulls him onto his lap. “I can help with that. I did help you, you know. Your skin is looking good, your hair is very, very pretty. It’ll make your customers want to play with it, probably come in it.” He runs his fingers over Rush’s cheeks and chin, under and around his eyes, takes his hand up and studies it. “This is working very well. I don’t usually see such drastic changes, but then the rest of civilization begins their treatments by age twenty or so. You’re very attractive, Dr. Rush. And very easy to play with, being so little, so that’s in your favor. You won’t be killed, I promise.”

“Thank you,” he breathes out, and finds that he means it, at least about promising not to see him killed. “I can show my appreciation. . .?” and nudges the man’s dick with his thigh.

“I shouldn’t. I’m on watch,” but the man seems quite willing to be talked into ignoring that.

“Don’t you have alarms set, long range scanners set to notify you of any approaching dangers? We did on Destiny.”

The man snorts. “Destiny. Sure. Have you ever even been on a space ship before?”

“Destiny o’course. A few others when I traveled for Stargate Command. Nothing like this ship though. And you’re a pilot? You know how all of this works?”

“You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you? With a big, big imagination.” He plays with Rush’s nipples for a time, and it’s clear he’s debating with himself about Rush’s offer. Rush squirms a bit, perched as he is on Purple Braid’s lap, and he’s becoming aroused.

Purple Braids notices and begins stroking Rush’s dick. With a shrug he says, “What the hell, it’s not like I won’t be right here.” Purple Braids kisses him a few times and he responds with enthusiasm. Purple Braids slides him off his lap onto the floor and opens up his trousers, pulling his dick free. He’s already hard. “Make this nice for me and I’ll satisfy your curiosity. No way in hell will you actually understand it, but if it makes you happy to pretend to, then no harm done.”

Rush gets on his knees, puts his hands on the man’s legs and licks his lips. “May I?” he asks, glancing up to meet his eyes.

Purple Braids grins down at him, touches his mouth, slips his thumb inside. “Oh, nice and polite. It’s not really you, but it’s fun to see you trying. And you do owe me an apology for kicking me when we caught you. So, show me what ya got, Dr. Rush.”

* * *

Notes:

Note: The links aren't right, but I've got to get up at 5am for work so I'm giving up for tonight, I'll try and fix it tomorrow night.

A Mhic lain ‘lc Shemais (Son of John, Son of James), is a song Rush sings to amuse the baby. It’s an old Scottish song that Runrig adapted. https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=runrig+youtube+ic+lain+ic+she&qpvt=runrig+youtube+ic+lain+ic+she&FORM=VDRE

https://lyrics.fandom.com/wiki/Runrig:%27Ic_Iain_%27Ic_Sheumais/en Translation to English.

 

Fear a Bhata. https://www.omniglot.com/songs/gaelic/fearabhata.php
Rush sings Fear a Bhata (The Boatman) to the baby, the phrase translates to “I’m often searching on the highest hilltop trying to find the boatman.”

There are many great versions of this song, with Silly Wizard, Karen Matheson of Capercaillie, Niamh Parsons among others.

Chapter 38: Hidden Resistance

“Rush” the Nakai scientist chitters at him, holding the tiny tracker in his long blue fingers, “you’re a real whore now, aren’t you? Since you enjoyed yourself with them.” The alien points to where the three tall men who kidnapped him are standing nearby, watching him with curious eyes, him bound to that hated table that Everett had disintegrated with the blast from the stargate but apparently it didn’t destroy it, it can never be destroyed, it will always come back to haunt him, to remind him of what he truly is, just a convenient body where people, aliens, who knows what else, can fuck him whenever they want. He is what Kiva wanted him to be: property of whoever claims him. He must be a slut, too, since his body orgasms for his rapists.

The blue alien, with its tall, thin, spindly body then cuts him open and places the tracker deep inside his chest, God, next to his heart and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts and he screams and screams but then Purple Braids shoves two fingers into his mouth and is telling him to suck them, to make them good and wet, and he does, he does what he’s told even though he hates himself for complying and then another Nakai takes hold of his legs, and he’s tied in the way Kiva wanted, his dick and backside displayed so that it’s so easy, no trouble at all, for the alien to push his own version of a dick into his anus, and then he’s being fucked and he’s in pain from the tracker in his chest as that Nakai does something to mend the incision he made and it makes him feel so hot now, he feels like he’s burning up, and he screams and screams over and over for Everett to come, to help him. To carry him away wrapped up in Everett’s black jacket, so that he’s safe, he’s protected.

But Everett doesn’t come and he’s so alone, always alone. The Nakai comes with a grunt and he feels him withdraw from Rush’s body, leaving him sore inside, wetness starting to trickle out and down his body. The Nakai grabs his penis and starts to insert a long tube, pushes and pushes until his urine begins flowing out, but instead of attaching it to a bag to collect, he lays it on Rush’s belly, so that he’s being drenched in the warm liquid and he feels its heat soaking into him.

Kiva is there, then and Purple Braids takes his fingers away and Kiva is kissing him deeply, one hand gripping his hair tightly so that it’s painful if he tries to jerk his head away from her.

“This is very nice,” she tells Purple Braids, after long moments of her molesting his mouth, pulling on his hair. “I like the colors you picked. You may fuck him now, then the rest of the Nakai can have him.”

Rush starts screaming again at the thought that he’ll have to service all the Nakai, there are so god damned many of them on board their ship.

Abruptly he feels himself yanked upwards and a hand wraps around his mouth, stifling his screams.

“Wake up!!” and then he’s lost for a few moments, not sure where he is or what’s happening. Where are the Nakai, where is Kiva? Is he on the table? There are tears flooding from his eyes and he’s sobbing.

An icy cold wet cloth roughly mops at his face and he gasps, truly waking up now. He forces himself to stop those broken sobs, shaking and trembling with the force of denying them passage from his body.

Dreaming. He must have been dreaming.

He glances around anyway, just to be sure, but he doesn’t see Kiva or any of the Nakai. There’s still screaming though, and he looks down to see the baby wailing away in his carrier.

Dark Haired Man pulled him from his nightmares, he’s muffled Rush’s screams. Purple Braids stumbles over to them, yawning.

“What the hell happened?” Purple Braids demands. “All that racket woke me up.”

Dark Haired Man moves his hand away from Rush’s mouth. “Nightmares, I guess. He was screaming and wouldn’t wake up. Woke up the kid, though.” He gives Rush a gentle shove towards the baby. “Now that we’ve shut you up, you shut up the kid.”

Rush kneels down, wipes the tears from his face. He’s trembling still from the nightmare. It had felt so real. He takes the child out of the carrier and puts him up on his shoulder, patting him and talking to him, letting him know it’s all right. He can hear the shakiness in his own voice as he sways, trying to comfort the poor wee one.

Tattooed Man comes towards them and Rush’s heart sinks. He’s carrying a syringe.

“Turn around and bend over,” he orders Rush, putting a hand on his shoulder guiding him into position. His borrowed shirt, halfway to his knees is lifted up and he feels a hand on the small of his back. He hold tightly to the child, so he doesn’t drop him.

The jab of the needle doesn’t hurt, just a brief sting, as Tattooed Man gently rubs the injection site for a few moments. He supposes it helps the medicine to disperse. His shirt is tugged back into place and he’s forced to turn around.

Yawning, Purple Braids asks, “What were you dreaming about?”

He doesn’t want to answer, but Dark Haired Man gives him a look that promises more discipline on his arse if doesn’t tell them. Ah, what the hell does it matter? They think him crazy anyway.

“The Nakai, one of them was putting a tracker in my chest and the other one was,” he shudders, “fucking me. And Kiva was there, allowing it all to happen, just like on the ship. You three, too.”

“I can’t have you screaming like that,” Tattooed Man says. “No more nightmares, no crying fits. Until I sell you and you’re somebody else’s problem, I’m keeping you calm and relaxed.” He pats Rush on the back, in a clumsy fashion. “It’s better for you, too. You had a good time with us; this shot will make sure you do again since it’ll probably be a few more days before I find a buyer and the kid is out of here. Consider this a training period.”

Purple Braids yawns again. “Okay, I’m going to get some sleep.” He reaches over and ruffles Rush’s hair. “You too, cutie.” The baby has gone back to sleep. After Purple Braids was done playing with him and had kept his word about explaining the ship systems to him, Rush had changed the baby and fed him.

Rush puts him back in his carrier, tucking the blanket around him. Tattooed Man and Dark Haired Man have gone up to the control area and Purple Braids is still watching him. He thinks that thoughtful stare should make him feel a bit anxious, a bit worried, but once again what he’s actually feeling and what he thinks he should be feeling are divorced from each other. The shot is taking hold again.

Rush starts to climb onto the bed bench but Purple Braids stops him, snaking an arm around his chest.

“You’re sleeping with me. Bring the kid and put him in a corner of the room. You shouldn’t have bad dreams now.”

Rush closes his eyes. Well, there’s no help for it and maybe he can pick Purple Braids’ brain about the ship a bit more. He’d learned a great many useful things when the man had been indulging his curiosity earlier. Not that he believed Rush understood a jot of it, but Rush wasn’t going to tip his hand that he understood everything quite well.

He points to the bathroom door and Purple Braids nods, so he heads over and inside. He realized that he does have to pee, probably why he’d dreamed of the Nakai inserting a catheter into him. They had done that, he remembers it quite clearly, but they’d just used it to collect urine for testing, he supposed. His stupid brain had connected that with when the Lucians had gleefully pissed on him or he’d pissed himself after being denied being allowed to relieve himself any other way. He finishes up and washes his hands, then returns to where Purple Braids is waiting.

He picks up the carrier, follow Purple Braids into his room, and carefully puts the baby down as far away from the bed as he can. If Purple Braids decides to have sex with him, he doesn’t want the baby to see them. It’s more for his sake than the child’s, he knows. The baby is too young to have any idea what would be happening.

Purple Braids beckons him close and when he’s standing in front of him, whispers to him to take off his shirt. He does, and Purple Braids strips off his own shirt and boxers. He pulls Rush towards him and kisses him, not really a passionate kiss but a fond one. He frowns then and lays his palm against Rush’s forehead.

“You’ve got a fever,” he says, his voice low. “That reaction I told you about. Here, sit on the bed. I’ll get you something to knock that back.” He goes to rummage through drawers, and not finding what he wanted, through a pack of some sort. He pulls out a small bottle, opens it and dumps two small pills into Rush’s palm. He grabs a water bottle, brings it back to Rush and tells him to swallow the meds and to take a long drink.

Rush complies, and shivers. He may have a fever but he feels cold. “Get under the covers.” Purple Braids orders in a whisper. “Those should start working in a few minutes.”

He does not feeling concerned about what will happen in this bed. Purple Braids joins him and pulls him against him, one heavy leg pinning him down and his arm thrown over Rush’s chest. He’s heavy and Rush can’t move but a bit.

Purple Braids says softly. “You’re a mystery, you know. I had to get you a whole new identity. My hacker friend planted records of your past life into databases. We used your DNA, age regressed your picture to how you would have looked as child, a young teenager. A mug shot or two.”

He let his hand wander down from Rush’s chest to his belly, and then lower and lower until he was playing with Rush’s balls. He wasn’t touching his dick though. Rush squirmed against him and felt Purple Braids erection against his arse.

“You’ve lived on fringe planets, got picked up for prostitution without a license a few times, spent a few nights in jail and paid some fines, but you’re legal now. You’ve held some low paying jobs, but usually got fired for not showing up to work. We picked companies that have since gone out of business. Your records show that you were home schooled before you ran away from home when you were ten, you were picked up and put in foster care and ran away from foster families, too. We have you showing up in a few classrooms in that time period. You were a terrible student and a discipline problem. We have you written up for not doing your work, for skipping school, for stealing other kids’ stuff. You have no living family. You’re listed as having a severe learning disability, unable to read or write, known to have strong delusions regarding Destiny that so far have gone untreated. You’ve paranoid about doctors, so you’ve avoided most medical care. We have you showing up at a few clinics where your broken arm was treated or you came in because of being sick with bronchitis. That matches what I scanned about you, when we did the truth test.”

Rush hadn’t even known that had been done. The scanner must have been small indeed, to escape his notice. Of course, he’d been distraught about having to answer their very personal questions.

“I picked your name. I wanted something to explain why you’ve latched onto the idea that you’re Dr. Rush. Something concrete that you built your delusions on. So, it’s similar to Nicholas Rush. Nicandrea Rushman. You went by Nic, three letters, most of the time. Easier for you to write. In fact, tomorrow I want you to practice writing your new name. You should have been able to learn at least that much when you were in school on the days you actually went and weren’t out being a petty street thief.”

The hand rolling his balls around abandons them and moves to his dick, giving him languid strokes, his tongue mapping out the sensitive area just under his ear and then blowing softly on the wet skin. He shivers and Purple Braids is relentlessly building up Rush’s orgasm and then maddeningly slowing down until Rush feels a flush that has nothing to do with the fever he has. He makes himself breathe out a soft, “Oh, please, please,” and feels a wave of shame when Purple Braids laughs and plays with him until he’s helplessly erupting into the man’s hand. He only begged like that to lull Purple Braids into thinking he’s fine with being a plaything for him and his cohorts.

Aye, sure you did, that infuriating internal voice mocks him as Purple Braids slides his erection between Rush’s arse cheeks and ruts there, sometimes touching his anus, until he comes with a happy groan. He leans out of the bed and fishes up Rush’s shirt and uses it to wipe his hands, and then mops up his come from Rush’s backside.

“That was my shirt,” Rush complains, and God, he remembers David doing the same thing. The gene for being jerks seems to have survived quite well with Destiny’s descendants.

“So what? I’ll give you one of mine in the morning. Go to sleep, Nicandrea Rushman. Little Nic.” He’s arranged back into being Purple Braids comfort toy, and he can’t really move. He’s tired and his body is still thrumming from the orgasm and his eyes slide shut on their own.

He sleeps and if he dreams again of torture and rape he doesn’t remember it in the morning, when the baby’s fussing awakens him.

* * *

Late that evening, Dark Haired Man disappears into the hold of the ship. They’re near a planet, but cloaked, Purple Braids tell him, as Rush dishes up a quick supper he’s thrown together in the galley. Apparently, since he’s not trying to fight them, has been god damned passive during his sex sessions with the three of them, he was awarded cooking and laundry duties. He’s not only washed the baby’s clothes but all of theirs, too. He’s used an extra boot lace to gather in the huge shirt Purple Braids gave him this morning. It still hangs on him, and he was refused anything else.

He’s been groped off and on all day, it’s too easy for them as the shirt’s neck hangs off his shoulders practically and there’s nothing to stop interested hands touching him lower down.

He can only suppose that being stuck on the ship for who knows how long, and he can’t guess how long they’ve been traveling planning the kidnapping, that even he looks good to them. He’s quite uncertain about his appeal to any potential buyers, though. He does look younger, but to his eyes he also looks tired and he doesn’t feel very well. The fever has continued on, although the medicine keeps his temperature almost normal.

He’s not really hungry and he picks at the quick stir fry he pulled together from frozen food. He knows he needs to eat because he can’t afford to feel weak or lightheaded from low blood sugar.

Tattooed Man had shoveled his food into his mouth rapidly and then left when his plate was scraped clean.

They’re about out of supplies. He decides to ask about it. Purple Braids tolerates a good many questions from him, but Rush takes care to only ask him when they’re alone. He’s quite sure Tattooed Man and Dark Haired Man would frown on his inquisitiveness.

“Are there more food supplies somewhere in storage?” he asks Purple Braids doubtfully. “Because these cupboards are pretty bare.”

“Depending on what my friend finds out down on the planet, we’ll either hand off the kid for the money, or go to the contingency plan. Either way, we’re stopping for supplies next.” He points to Rush’s plate. “Eat that. You’re a pretty good cook, you know. It tastes fine.”

“All right, yes. I’m just not feeling very hungry.”

“Probably because of the treatments I gave you. It’ll stop soon. You’re looking good, my little friend.”

He looks down at his plate. He’s trying very, very hard not to let any of the sarcasm he feels slip from him. Purple Braids has been amused when he’s failed to suppress his actual personality, but he doesn’t know if that will change and definitely the other two won’t tolerate it. Dark Haired Man made it plain that Rush was his when he returned; he doesn’t want to give him any excuses to spank him more than he probably plans to do anyway.

Rush had seen the blueprints for the ship, knew that a ring system similar to what the Goa’uld had stolen from the Asgard was in the ship’s hold. Dark Haired Man had ringed down to the surface. He was itching to get a closer look at that system. If he could ring himself and child off the ship, he might be able to find help. But why didn’t they use the rings before?

He glances up to see Purple Braids watching him, a slow smile on his face.

“What’s your question, cutie?”

Damn. The man is good at reading him. “If this ship can cloak itself why did you take it down to the planet where you found me? Why not stay safely in space until you had to go down. The rings can be set to any location, can they not?”

Purple Braids narrows his eyes. “That’s right, Nic. You seem to understand things more than I gave you credit for.”

He shrugs. “Stargate Command used them.”

Purple Braids shakes his head, groans a little. “Who filled your head full of these stories? Another Destiny nut, I’ll bet. And it wasn’t safe in orbit around that planet because the Terminator ships can sense us even when cloaked. That planet was in the Badlands, where those mechanical bastards sometimes patrol.” Purple Braids takes a long swallow of whatever alcoholic drink is in the bottle. “Last report of any sightings in that area was over a hundred years ago, but we weren’t going to take any chances. And then you and your little buddies lit up a signal for them when you came through the stargate. Idiots.”

The baby starts to squirm awake in his carrier and Purple Braids looks at him with distaste. “I’ll be glad to see the last of him.”

Rush must not have schooled his expression to the blank mask he was trying for, because Purple Braids looks at him, frowns, and waggles a finger at him. “I see you judging us, but the kid is too young to remember any of this, and he’s not been hurt.”

Yet,, Rush thinks. There is no guarantee that this child won’t be killed, if things fall through for this lot.

Purple Braids looks seriously at him. “I want you to consider something. My friend told you why we’re doing this, why we took the kid. His family is responsible for so many deaths and ruined lives, but they never have to deal with any consequences. So you see, us taking the kid and making a story that won’t be stifled, plus gaining much needed funds to fight against their pushing that damned drug on our society, we’re acting in accordance with the ‘Greater Good.’”

Rush chokes on the bite of his dinner he was swallowing. Coughing harshly to clear his breathing, he just looks at Purple Braids.

“What? Why are your eyebrows practically at your hairline?” Purple Braids looks bemusedly at him.

The baby is playing with his hands, waving them in front of his face, looking delighted when he manages to get a thumb into his mouth.

Deciding that it wasn’t going to help anything to explain how much he’s espoused the ‘Greater Good’ himself, Rush just shakes his head. “Nothing.” He decides to change the subject, afraid he’ll break out into hysterical laughter at how that way of arranging priorities has survived through the years. He wonders if Dr. Rush was credited with its origin.

“Ah, so, I was told that I was related to some others of Destiny’s crew. I know I’m not, but who were they?”

Purple Braids just sighs. “Damn, but your delusions are so complex, so ingrained. Whoever has to do your treatments to remove all that nonsense is going to get a migraine over you.”

All impulses to any inappropriate laughter die an abrupt death. “What, ah, what treatment? Counseling or something like it?”

“It won’t hurt,” Purple Braids is quick to answer, trying for a soothing tone. Rush is not soothed one damn bit.

Still with that soothing tone, Purple Braids starts explaining. “They’ll give you something to keep you talkative but sedated. You’ll be hooked up to scanners and monitors, they’ll see your delusions playing out on the screen, they target where the memory is faulty and alter it. Sometimes the delusions just fade away, other times people remember them in faint dream like ways, but you won’t be crazy anymore. You won’t think you’re Dr. Rush. They’ll impress on you that it had been a mental illness, it wasn’t real. It’s a very standard treatment for paranoia and delusions. Really, I’m surprised you haven’t been forced to get well earlier, but then maybe that planet you’re from never developed this technology.”

Purple Braids reaches over and yanks Rush onto his lap. “Don’t worry about it, cutie. In your case, once the delusions are gone, they’ll give you enough memories of Nicandrea Rushman’s life so you believe that’s who you are and can answer questions if asked.”

“Brainwashing, you mean.”

“Wellll. . . Maybe that last part. Again, it’s for the Greater Good. And it’s a damn sight better than killing you. Don’t think about it too much. It’s going to happen, but they’ll make sure you want to be a prostitute. It’ll seem better than any other job you remember.”

“I won’t be able to leave though, will I? You’re selling me into sexual slavery.”

“Yes, but you won’t care. And on paper you’ll receive a salary for your work. It’ll probably be a dummy account that belongs to the House you go to, but it’ll pass any inspections.” Purple Braids starts playing with Rush’s hair. “Try not to worry about it, Nic. Oh, hey, you wanted to know who your ancestors from Destiny were?”

He sighs, figuring it wasn’t worth it to explain again that he’s not related to anyone on board. “Aye, I’m a wee bit curious about it.”

“Colonel Everett Young, Matthew Scott, Tamara Johansen, Adam Brody, somebody Barnes, can’t remember her first name, Dale Volker, Lisa Park-Greer, her husband, ummm. . . Vanessa James.”

He’s quiet while Purple Braids cuddles him, plays with his hair. Assuming the tests were correct, and from everything he’s seen of this civilization, he imagines they are, what would his DNA have in common with that lot? Some were military, others were scientists. . . Ah, he has it. It’s the Ancient genes. His are natural and very strongly expressed, akin to John Sheppard’s, more so than Jack O’Neill’s. Everett was given the gene therapy and it took, he expects that the others had also been given it, anticipating maybe an assignment on Atlantis or at the time who knew what was at the other end of the nine chevron address. Theirs had remained dormant. Homeworld Command was no sure what triggered the altered genes to start expressing their traits. The genes themselves though, had remained, maybe even passed down to descendants.

Purple Braids reaches for Rush’s forgotten dinner and slides it over. “Hey, I can see you’re thinking things over, figuring out how to work what I told you into your Destiny delusions, but you need to eat. If you don’t do it on your own, I’ll have to feed you. I’ll tell my friend when he gets back though, since he’s keen on spanking your cute little butt. He’s got a discipline kink, if you haven’t figured that out.”

Rush reaches for his fork and spears a bit of purple vegetable. “No need,” he says, and pops it into his mouth.

* * *

Dark Haired Man comes back on board scowling, and he shoots a hate filled look at the baby. “Get him out of my sight.” Rush hurries to comply, the baby on his shoulder, heading for the galley, but Tattooed Man interrupts and tells him to go into his cabin and shut the door.

They might have wanted more privacy by sending him further away, but they’ve sabotaged that because the shouting that erupts travels quite well. The negotiations failed again. People were arrested; it will take more time to set up the exchange and Tattooed Man is irate.

“I should dump you two and the kid on a planet! Cut my losses! This has dragged out long enough!”

“Do that, and you’ll never see one dollar of the ransom money! And that’s what you want; you don’t give a damn about stopping that drug. Hell, you’ve been running it, selling it, helping to ruin people’s lives. Don’t think we didn’t check you out before approaching you. You traffic human beings, you’re a smuggler, a blackmailer. We know we’re in bed with the devil, fuck, you’ve probably got enough drugs on board to fill a pharmacy,” Dark Haired Man shouts right back.

Oh, now that is interesting to hear. Tattooed Man had come up quickly with the drug and syringe to calm him down. It seems unlikely that he’d gone down to the hold of the ship, it hadn’t taken that long to fetch it. Perhaps he’s got a stash right here, in his room.

Where he’d told Rush to go hide.

He’s hit then with a combination of fear and determination, anxiety and daring, like when he’d taken a chance on not being observed and stolen his little screwdriver and sabotaged the monitors of the station he’d been working at with one of the Lucians, back on Destiny when Kiva had control. The Lucian, who’d made it clear just how he intended to fuck Rush once his month of reprieve was up, had gone to help subdue David, who’d tried to wrest control of the ship from Kiva, breaking his cover to do so.

He’d defied his captors, scared to death to do so, but it had worked. He’d stopped being Dinn for one long minute and became himself, Dr. Nicholas Rush, and had taken advantage of an opportunity.

Laying the baby down on the bed, he checks the door, engages the lock. His heart is pounding, his palms are damp, and his anxiety must be sky high, if he’s feeling this despite the drug he was given.

Thinking hard, he scans the room, taking into account that Tattooed Man is a drug smuggler, he must be prepared to be boarded and a cursory inspection take place. The drugs, if they are in this room, can’t be in plain sight, which leaves out drawers and closets unless they have hidden components. The blueprints he’s seen didn’t show anything hidden, that he can recall. And why would they? What kind of smuggler leaves his hiding places clearly documented?

So, the hiding places must have been adapted, not built into the original specs.

The bed is on a raised platform, he drops to his knees, looking for a hidden catch, perhaps something that rolls out from under the bed.

He doesn’t find anything.

Searching the closet, behind the dresser, along the walls doesn’t reveal a hiding place.

He curses softly to himself. The fight between the three men seems to be quietening. Purple Braids sounds like he’s being the peacemaker. He won’t have much more time.

Perhaps the floor? He scans it but finds nothing there either. Perhaps it’s not this room at all. But, no, Tattooed Man said he had something in his room to calm Rush down.

Looking upwards, he’s struck with a feeling of deja vue, only instead of looking for a hiding place, he’d been seeking one. Not a very good one, but then he’d intended for Spencer’s gun to be found in the vent in Everett’s room. God, he’d really been a pain in Everett’s arse. He hopes he has the chance to apologize again for causing the crew to suspect that Spencer’s suicide had been murder at Colonel Everett Young’s hand. Not that he would have been found guilty, Rush was quite convinced at the time that it wouldn’t come to that. He’d only wanted to be allowed to study the Neural Interface Chair, and with Everett sidelined for a time, he’d finally been allowed permission.

‘Course it also was the last straw for Everett when he saw the video Eli had found of Spencer shooting himself and then Rush coming in and taking the gun. Everett had confronted him about his actions during their little jaunt on that hot, dry world and he’d never even realized the danger Everett posed. He’d been too excited to see the alien vessel crashed there.

Everett had left him for dead on that planet, when he wouldn’t submit to his authority, even after he’d been physically beaten and couldn’t fight Everett any longer.

He has to shake his head at past Everett and himself. He knows when things really started changing for them. It was Everett wrapping him up in his jacket and carrying him away from the place of his torture. Perhaps he’d begun to feel a small bit of trust towards Everett before that, but the feeling of safety, the compassion he’d felt from Everett had been so primal, that, fuck, perhaps he’d just imprinted on Everett. Well, imprint maybe isn’t correct, but certainly that was a turning point for them.

He trusts Everett. He knows that right now, Everett is doing everything he can to find him.

Everett would expect him to be helping himself, and so he turns his attention away from his memories and to the work at hand.

The ceiling is high; it, the chairs, tables, beds are all designed for larger adults. In the galley he’d had to use a chair to reach the upper cabinets.

There’s no chair in this room. He stands on the bed to get a closer look at the ceiling. There’s nothing to indicate a trap door, or a hinge.

Well, fuck. He sits down on the bed, and checks on his charge. The baby’s been quiet, just soft chuffing sounds, and he’s kicking his feet.

He drops down from the foot of the bed onto the floor, when something on the bedframe catches his eye. It’s decorative, a large intricate mandala design of metal and paint and Tattooed Man doesn’t seem the type to appreciate art. There’s no paintings on the walls, the room is spartan, utilitarian, not even the blankets or pillows have any sort of theme or beauty to them.

Just this mandala.

He kneels down and examines it, running his fingers around the design. It’s definitely fastened to the bedframe, it doesn’t fold down.

And yet. . . something is puzzling about it, and there’s nothing that intrigues him as much as a puzzle.

Mandala meant sacred circle, sometimes described at a bridge between lower and higher realms. It was impossible to be a mathematician and not be aware of how some found spirituality in the science of shapes and numbers.

He isn’t a spiritual man, but he does enjoy the beauty of mathematics.

Staring at the mandala in front of him, he’s sure this is the key, somehow. Tattooed Man is far from being a spiritual or artistic person, despite the simple geometric patterns inked onto his face.

Carefully, he pushes hard at the center of the circle and sucks in a breath. What he’d taken for an inlaid golden metal outlining the circumference of the pattern just jutted out by 7 centimeters.

He pulls it free, grunting at the weight, placing it on the floor. He takes a deep breath and steps inside. It’s easily large enough to contain a much larger person than him. He’s testing a hypothesis and if he is correct, he’d best not move a muscle.

The thrum of rings engaging tells him he’s right.

* * *

Chapter 39: Escape

Rush’s heart races, despite the drug’s effect on his body. He’s got a handful of drug bottles, small vials, that based on helpful pictures and what he’s learned about the alphabet from having to practice writing his new name and short phrases a six year old might be learning, he’s fair sure is a strong sedative and euphoric.

The rings had deposited him in a large room, which lit up for him, and perhaps there’s a hatch somewhere but he doubts it. The ring system makes it unlikely a quick inspection will discover Tattooed Man’s supplies. They look authentic, with the official looking packaging, not home cooked drugs of some sort. He suspects these, ‘fell off a truck’ or however they’re phrasing pilfering stock from warehouses and delivery systems. There are stacks and stacks of large boxes, neatly divided into different types of drugs. He wonders if any of them contain the drug the rouge activists are protesting against.

He steps back onto the ring platform his loot gathered up in his shirt and takes another deep breath.

There’s the moment of disorientation, and then he’s back in Tattooed Man’s room, and the baby is screaming.

He’s thought of a hiding place that’s unlikely to be found, given the distaste the three kidnappers have shown for their little victim. He steps out of the ring, and hurries to the baby’s side.

“I’m sorry, wee boy,” he says and slips the six small vials into his diaper. The baby wiggles and stops screaming at the sensation, then screws his little face back up and takes in a deep breath, something that when Carmen did it, Everett would call ‘the wind up’ before she let loose her bellows of displeasure.

Quickly he returns to the ring, and with a lot of effort – because the thing is quite heavy – lifts it back into the mandala, pushing down on it until it sinks into place and locks.

He takes a deep breath himself and goes to unlock the door. The men are still arguing, but their tone is less edged with anger.

Hurrying back to the baby’s side, he picks him up so he can soothe his wee boy. He walks him round the room, singing to him, bouncing him and eventually between one scream and the next, he falls asleep. Poor wean. The bottles in his diaper are probably uncomfortable, and he’ll transfer them as soon as he can to the zippered bag being used to hold dirty diapers until he can wash them.

He’s tired now, the adrenaline has washed out of his body, the drug is doing its job since he’s hardly concerned for what will happen later tonight. His head aches, though, and he feels overwarm. Still having that reaction to his aging treatment, he imagines.

The baby he lays down on the bed, and curls himself around him. Yawning, his eyes close, open, close and don’t open again, his drifting thoughts float away and he realizes he’s falling asleep.

* * *

A series of smarting slaps on his arse interrupts his dreams and then he’s being pulled off the bed. He scrambles to gain his footing, still sleep confused and putting one hand behind him to protect his backside.

“Naptime’s over, Nic. You’ve got twenty minutes to take care of the brat, and then I want you in my cabin.”

Bloody hell. Dark Haired Man is smirking at him. “Are you awake now? I want you in my cabin, naked and kneeling by the bed.”

“Did ye, aye?” Rush mutters, and Dark Haired Man chuckles. Evidently he’s in a much better mood. The three of them must have worked out their differences.

Still chuckling, he says, “I’m not sure how that translates, but I know a smart ass answer when I hear it. Ten swats, Nic. Better keep your mouth shut unless you want a whole lot more.”

He makes a show of looking at his watch. “If you’re late. . .”

He can make a wild guess. He feels out of sorts and a little feverish and grumpy. He desperately wishes for coffee. There’s something like it the others have drunk, but he’d not been allowed any. There wasn’t much left and they weren’t going to waste it on him, he’d been told.

Right bastards.

He makes a heroic effort to not snap out something else that would earn him more punishment, nods deferentially to the man, and gently picks up the baby.

He takes him out to where his baby supplies are, and Dark Haired Man walks by and into the galley. He deftly changes him out of his very wet diaper, sliding the medicine vials along with the sopping wet material into the zippered bag, making sure they won’t clink against each other.

The baby wakes up as he’s cleaning his bottom, and by the time he’s in new dry clothes and a dry diaper, he’s sticking his tongue in and out and turning his head and Rush sighs.

He’ll no let a wean go hungry, even if it means he’ll not meet the twenty minute deadline.

Dark Haired Man will be delighted to have another reason to whack Rush’s bum.

Well, no help for it, and he efficiently fixes a bottle and hauls himself up on the bed-bench, settles the baby and pokes the nipple in his mouth.

The babe goes to town, as Dark Haired Man comes out of the galley, wiping his mouth. He grins at Rush and looks again at his watch.

“Times up, Nic.” He leans against the wall and watches Rush finish feeding and burping the child, and rocking him back to sleep.

Rush makes sure the baby is wrapped well in his carrier and gives him a kiss on the forehead.

He slides down to the deck, straightens and turns, looks up at Dark Haired Man. “I’m ready.”

* * *

The next day passes between being given doses of the fever reducer from Purple Braids, doing cleaning and cooking, child minding, and sex sessions with all three of his kidnappers.

Everyone has duties to do, so the blow jobs, hand jobs, are fairly quick. He feels disconnected from it, the feel of hands on his body, dicks in his mouth, the movements of his hands on their bodies, mouths on his, tongues invading, licking, and being told what to do to bring pleasure to them.

The drug no doubt assists with that feeling of being faraway, when he’s intimate with one of them, but he doesn’t think it’s entirely due to that.

He thinks he’s becoming acclimated to being a prostitute. Just another day in outer space.

They don’t hurt him, damage him physically, with the exception that his backside is smarting. Even so, he’s not heavily bruised or bleeding from the spanking he got last night. His Da had given him worse with the belt, but Dark Haired Man has twisted a spanking up with sexual sensations, and he knows-- he’s not that ignorant – that it’s not uncommon for people to enjoy that sort of thing. Perhaps sometime he’ll try and unravel all of that, what he felt about it, but not now. It’s not important, it’s low priority.

Despite telling himself that he does find his mind wandering back to last night. He had come over the man’s lap, arse tender and nerve ends sizzling. He supposed he felt humiliated, but in a faraway, muffled way.

It’s not important. It can wait, figuring out when to try for an escape is the priority.

So, what does he need, what does he have? Daniel Jackson had taught him that, a basic question that Jack O’Neill had drilled into him, into all of SG1.

He needs to be by a planet with a stargate. Once he rings down with the baby, he wants to escape fast through it. He needs to know where one will be located. Not this next planet they’re heading towards, a place to replenish supplies. It’s a sanctuary for smugglers and thieves and it’s where Tattooed Man told him he would arrange for his sale. It seems likely that he might be grabbed if he showed up there, naked except for the oversize shirt he’s wearing.

His stargate remote is on the bridge. He’ll take it with him and he’s seen enough of the monitors that he can locate a planet with a stargate.

So, probably the stop after this one coming up, it’s bound to be another isolated place, where they will hide out again and wait for word on how to exchange the baby for his ransom. He wonders if they will stay in orbit and use the rings or land on the planet. Probably it will depend on how close they are to Terminator territory.

He’s guessing about the effect of the sedative on these men, he’ll need to move fast once they fall asleep. He’ll tie them up, there is that thin rope they’d used on him when he first came on board until they were satisfied he was tame, wouldn’t fight them. He knows where it was stored.

He’s considered killing them, slitting their throats. It may come to that, but he’s unsure his motives would be clean if he did. The Lucians he killed in their rooms, locking their doors and depriving them of oxygen, that was necessary and he’s not really had too many qualms about it. They couldn’t afford to have that many prisoners who would be looking to take back over the ship. He’d spared Ginn, the only one he thought would defect whole heartedly to their side.

But, if he killed these men, when he could just disable them and escape, what would that say about him? They’ve raped him, taken him far from his people, from Destiny, but do they deserve to die at his hands?

He’d killed Simeon, another rapist, but there was no way to just disable him. He doesn’t lose sleep over his death, well, yes, he still has nightmares, but it’s not due to guilt. Sometimes he wakes up, choking, the taste of blood and semen in his mouth, and he stumbles to the shower and lets the cleaning mist chase away the memories.

He needs to carry the child easily, and at least some supplies. Maybe something like the protein bars they’d had before they were eaten up. Some formula, a bottle, baby clothes, diapers, the baby’s blanket. He won’t take the carrier, it would slow him down if he was running. The sheet he fashioned into a baby carrier will do, plus something he can dump the items into and sling on his back. He wants his hands free.

He needs to make sure the collar and cuffs are disabled or off him. He’s not sure who has the key for it, or the device that triggers the blinding pain. He’s no sure how long the range is for that bloody thing. It would be best if he took it with him, too, if he can’t find the damn key. He’d hate for his kidnappers to push the button and disable him from the ship or perhaps they could use it as a tracker. Shite, it’s very likely it can be a tracker; it wasn’t designed for criminals to use, probably, it was probably used for people on probation or for prisoners.

His clothes, his own clothes, are gone. He’ll grab another shirt or two, pull them on. He can’t wear these mens’ pants. They’ll fall down, even if he finds a belt. Perhaps he can use a pair of their boxers. He’ll look ridiculous, but he’ll sacrifice his dignity to reach safety.

He has no shoes. He’ll have to go barefoot. His feet are too small to use any of the kidnappers footwear.

If he can find the stun gun that they used on him when he was picking fruit, he’ll take it, too.

He’s not sure what he can put the sedative into, a drink or food. Maybe if they pick up something spicy when they get their supplies, it will mask the taste. He smelled it, and it seemed to him to be odorless, but who knows what Destiny’s descendants’ taste buds can pick up. He’s fair sure this drug could either be injected or taken orally, based on the simplified picture directions.

He doesn’t think it’s the same thing Tattooed Man used on him. He never felt a sense of euphoria. He’d been given another shot a few hours ago. He hopes whatever it is, isn’t addictive.

“Nic!” Dark Haired Man has raised his voice. He’s on the bridge, as are the other two. “Scrape us something together to eat!”

Obediently he gets up from the seat he’d been sitting in while the child naps. He picks up the carrier and moves to the kitchen. They’ve checked on the knives after he’s cooked each meal, it’s too risky to try to hide one.

At least one more day on board, he thinks, maybe two.

Tattooed Man has told him they’ll do his audition when he gets back from getting supplies. He’s not sure what that will entail, but he’s not looking forward to it.

So, he’s got the means to escape and a plan.

Now, he waits.

* * *

The next afternoon, they are in orbit around the planet Tattooed Man ringed down to pick up supplies. He’d slept part of the night with Purple Braids again, tucked in next to him, and for a wonder, he hadn’t had to have sex with him. Perhaps it had been delayed till the morning, but since the babe had had a fussy early, early morning, he’d been sent to deal with him.

He plays peek-a-boo with the wee boy, tickles him gently, and the old standard, blowing raspberries on his fat little belly. The baby waves his hands and kicks his feet in excitement, and tracks Rush’s movements as he lays on the wide bed bench, Rush next to him.

He’s tired. He didn’t get enough sleep, but it feels like that’s not the only reason. He can feel the fever rising again. He feels achy all through his body.

Picking up the baby, he goes to where Purple Braids is lounging in one of the bridge chairs. “Hey, cutie,” he says. “What’s up?”

“This bothersome fever, it feels like it’s climbing again. Could you give me more aspirin, or whatever you people call it?”

Purple Braids beckons him closer, puts the back of his hand against Rush’s forehead. “Yeah, sure. It shouldn’t last much longer.”

The baby chooses that moment to spit up quite a bit on Rush’s shoulder and on his own little outfit.

Purple Braids wrinkles his nose. “Ugh. Come on, cutie, I’ll give you some new clothes, too. Afraid you’re hands off for today, according to the skipper of this boat. He’s got dibs when he gets back. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

Ah, cheers, he thinks. Just lovely. He should dread this audition, but again, it’s more that it’s what he should be feeling. He’s not truly upset about having to perform sexually and be filmed doing it.

Fuck this drug. He expects that when he does get away and the drug wears off, that all of these delayed feelings will hit him like an avalanche.

He follows the man back to the living quarters, is given medicine, and a new shirt. He bathes the baby in the bathroom sink, dresses him, then takes a shower himself.

The image in the full mirror shows a young man, thin, small framed, short, with darkish highlighted hair. His eyes just look like eyes to him, a bit almond shaped, the irises almost black looking. They don’t seem exotic, as Tattooed Man had called them. He’s never found himself good looking, and he tends to wonder at those who give him such compliments. Everett does, and it sometimes makes him blush when he calls Rush beautiful.

He does miss his beard, the bastards, although he was never fond of shaving. He remembers how satisfying it was as a lad to realize he could grow a beard. They took that from him, and perhaps it’s a minor thing, certainly very minor when he compares that to everything else happening to him, but he’s still annoyed.

Not angry, he can’t really work up any rage due to the shot. But, he’s definitely annoyed about losing the choice to be clean shaven or not.

Gloria hadn’t liked him to have a full beard, wasn’t that wild about a few days scruff. Everett liked it, though. He told Rush once that it made him look like a troublemaker, a little unpredictable, a bad ass. The sex they’d had after that had been very satisfying indeed.

Everett himself liked to be clean shaven. Not shaving daily would take him back to those days when he was too depressed to care much about his appearance.

Rush detests being called cute, always felt it belittled him somehow, that it takes away from his intellect, negates being respected for what he has accomplished.

Puppies and kittens and babies are cute. Mathematicians in their forties are not any such thing.

He once overheard Chloe and Lisa discussing during lunch that they thought he was cute. He was miffed, but decided arguing about it with them was only going to sound childish, which wasn’t going to help his ‘I’m no cute’ campaign. He left without them noticing he’d overheard.

Deciding he’s had enough about mooning about his appearance, he takes the baby and goes back to the bed bench, lays the baby down on his front and puts a small toy that makes a rattling sound in front of him, presses a button so that it plays music with softly changing colors. He’d found it at the bottom of the duffel bag the babies supplies were in.

The baby adores it, makes unsuccessful attempts to wiggle closer to it.

He wonders if someone else was supposed to come along with the kidnappers to take care of the baby. Somebody had packed these supplies carefully; perhaps that person knew the child, knew his family. Perhaps not. Perhaps just someone who was familiar with young children, knew what they would need.

He doesn’t know the baby’s name, and that’s been deliberate on the kidnappers part. They’ve been careful not to let their own names slip. Perhaps they’re not as confident about this brainwashing they’ve planned for him as they seem.

Brainwashing. Changing his brain so that his life will seem like just a fancy he’d had. Turning him into Nicandrea Rushman, loser in life, who’s greatest ambition is to be a prostitute within a House, instead of the freelancing done in the slums on dirty street corners.

Amazing though, that medical science has advanced to this level. There was research into identifying emotions, simple words and concepts, with brain scans back on Earth, but this is so much more complicated.

He feels very ignorant when he learns of these things. He wonders if Everett has found this civilization yet, if he’s also feeling uneducated and small.

He misses Everett. Misses him so damn much. He misses the ship, and his life on Destiny.

Consoling himself, he remembers how he made his way back to Destiny after being left on a planet to die, then taken by the Nakai, and saving Chloe to boot.

They’re not finished, he and Everett. We’ll never be done Rush had told the man, and that had been a promise, and perhaps at the time a threat, and he kept them both.

He’ll still keep the promise, he tells himself. He will escape and make his way back to Destiny.

Patiently, he waits for his plan to unfold.

* * *

Eli would be fascinated with this technology Tattooed Man is utilizing, Rush thinks as he sits on the bed in the man’s room. He’s still got a towel wrapped around his lower body. Tattooed Man, though is naked. The way those sensors the man is attaching to his own head, his torso, arms and legs and lower belly will obscure his features, or so he’s explained to Rush, and it would be ‘super cool’ to Eli.

He’s tempted to roll his eyes, even thinking about how Eli would react. But he’ll never know, not from Rush. He’s not about to ever explain to Eli or any of the Science Team how advanced technology allowed him to fucked by an anonymous vague figure.

He’s not sure why Tattooed Man is deigning to explain anything to him. He seems in a better mood since he returned to the ship. He fastens several small devices, which Rush thinks must be recording equipment, to the walls and to the headboard.

“Here,” he says, and hands Rush a small capsule. He lightly smacks Rush on the back of his head, like a bear swatting a cub, when Rush just holds it. “Stop looking at it like it’s going to bite you. It’s just to help you relax even more; it’ll make you more responsive but slow down your ability to come. It’ll keep you on the edge, and that’s where I want you for this.” He shrugs, “I didn’t have any on board, or I would have given it to you days ago.”

The man finger combs Rush’s damp hair. After his return to the ship, all hands, including Rush, had been called down to the storage area to help unload the supplies brought up by the large ring system, the largest Rush had ever seen. Most of the supplies were left down in the storage area, secured into bins on shelves, some, mostly perishable foods and some staples, were sent upstairs by a small lift system, the size of a large oven, to be unloaded. He volunteered to stay in the galley to put those away, since he was doing the cooking anyway.

It gave him a chance to see what he might slip the drugs into when he tried for his escape.

“You used those supplies I gave you?”

Rush nods. He’s no a fool and the two large bottles he was given to use cleaned and oiled up his back passage.

“Take it,” Tattooed Man says, pointing to Rush’s hand. “You don’t want to cross me, boy.”

Rush sighs and swallows the rainbow colored capsule. He opens his mouth afterwards, anticipating the man’s next order.

“Good.” The man begins playing with Rush’s nipples, making them peak and tugging and flicking them. “I’ve lined up some potential buyers to bid. The auction will be held after I’m done with you and they’ve watched you perform. You’ll be shipped to your new owner as soon as the ransom is paid and the kid is gone.”

Sliding his thumb into Rush’s mouth, he says, “This will be better for you, you know. You’re not big enough or strong enough for me to sell you for just your labor. You don’t have any skills worth anything, either. Cooks are plentiful, and no one will hire you to care for their kid with your lack of background.”

A languid feeling is slowly filling him, his skin feels very sensitive, and he shivers, realizing he’s sucking on the thumb in his mouth. He doesn’t remember deciding to do that. His body is going on autopilot, he supposes.

“Better for me, too, to sell you to a House. Much better profit.” Tattooed Man says briskly. “Make me some money tonight, boy.”

Tattooed Man slides his thumb out of Rush’s mouth, smirking at how Rush chases after it, missing the feel of it in his mouth. “Yeah, it’s hitting you now.” He presses his thumb to the back of the shock collar Rush wears and it opens. He takes it off Rush and does the same to the wrist and ankle cuffs, laying them on the bedside stand. He says, sounding almost kind, “Kneel up for me, boy.” To the devices he says, “Begin recording.”

Rush does so, and for his trouble Tattooed Man slowly loosens the towel and tosses it on the floor. He runs his big hands all over Rush’s body, massaging an oil into his skin that makes him feel warm and sensitive. When he finishes the man pushes him down on the bed, so his arse is in the air, his legs wide spread, his head resting on his folded hands.

“Hold that position,” Tattooed Man orders. He slides off the bed and Rush takes deep breaths. This is going to happen. This porn video of him is going to be sent out for who knows how many people to watch and judge. Mentally he shrugs. Best to not think about it, he supposes. He’s going to orgasm for this man, he can tell with the way his body is reacting from just the strokes of the man’s hands on his skin.

He’s hard. Very, very hard. It’s tempting to try to touch himself, but he’s not been told to do that, and there’s still a part of himself that won’t help in his own rape. He needs to be obedient, yes, so that he’s not hurt, can remain free as their tame cabin boy so he can get the fuck out of here, and maybe when this is over he can tell himself he only followed commands, not that he decided to take some bloody initiative in his rape.

He can feel precome dripping from his dick, and that is humiliating, in theory. In actuality he only finds it interesting, like he’s a biologist documenting a physical response of a research animal.

The big man returns, kneels behind Rush. “Relax when I tell you to. I’m plugging you up to help with stretching your passage. It’s not going to hurt, it’ll slowly expand and release lubricant. It’ll feel good, I promise. After it’s inside you, I want you to show how much you want me to fuck you, just like we’ve practiced. Crawl over to me, kiss my body, get me hard.” He chuckles, a dark pleased sound. “Well, harder. I want you to take me in your mouth, your hand and make it good, or you’ll regret it. Then I’ll fuck you and I’ll make you come on my dick, without even touching it.”

He understands. His value is in how much his sale will bring to this man, and he’ll do as he asks, he won’t resist. The cuffs are off him, and if he satisfies him, perhaps he won’t put them back on.

“Relax now,” the man, his – not lover, no, not that – his sex partner, his owner, says and something warm and wet and hard touches his anus.

He lets out an unintended pleased cry, and slowly, as he tries to make his muscles loosen, he’s filled by the thing and god, it does feel so good. He feels it settle and then it releases a pulse. The sensation makes his whole body shiver, and the plug expands a bit, and he can feel the lubricant, warm and stimulating, inside him. His prostrate is quite on board with what’s happening, and his dick is dripping precum.

“Okay, you. Show me you know how to pleasure a man. If you’re good at sucking a dick, the buyers can see you’ll be good at tonguing a clit.” He slaps Rush on the arse, wringing out another cry of pleasure from him. “Begin,” he commands.

Just do it, he tells himself. don’t think about it, you’ll survive this, and get off this ship. The dildo inside him pulses again and he’s wracked with the feeling.

He turns around, still on his knees and crawls closer to Tattooed Man. He kisses the man’s knees, runs fingers lightly up his legs and to his nipples, thumbing them into hard nubs before scooting closer until he’s straddling the man’s thighs, his own legs wide apart on either side of the big man. He tongues one nipple while playing with the other, then sucks on the hard nub until he hears a groan of lust from Tattooed Man.

He’s doing a good job. Apparently he’ll make a fine whore for whoever buys him, and he supposes it’s due to the drugs that he only feels bemused by that, and not bitter or horrified.

Kiva would laugh if she could see this. Her Kresh’ta, Dinn, once again servicing a crew sexually, his fate to do so for many, many others. Koz would approve of how aroused he was, would remind him that he’d told him that being a whore could feel good.

Stop thinking, he orders himself. It’s no helping. He blanks his mind until he’s only aware of sensation, of touch, the taste of come, of arousal and the thrusting of his owner’s dick over and over into him till he thinks he will lose his mind, the smell of sex, the whiteout of orgasm.

* * *

He remembers the rest of the night, being passed to the other two men, being fucked and performing the requested sexual acts without protest. With great pleasure, actually.

He remembers all of it, but once the drug has worn off, and he’s in the shower letting steaming water cleanse him he takes all of those memories and he buries them in his mind, imagines locking a door, multiple locks, hundreds of locks, and he’s not going to unlock any of it till he’s safely back on Destiny. He imagines hiding by the FTL engines, arms locked around his knees, making himself small and letting all the humiliation and fear and shame and guilt wash through him. How he wishes he could eject it into space, leaving it far behind where no one needs to know what was done to him, what he did, how he played the part of a slut, a whore, to perfection.

You did what you had to, genius, he can hear Everett saying. “Stop beating yourself up about it. You need to focus, Nick, and get the hell out of Dodge.”

“All right, Everett,” he says aloud. “But you’d best be waiting for me when I get off this tub.”

Through the door he hears the baby begin wailing, and he hurries to pull on another one of his rapist’s shirts and goes to tend his charge and ask Purple Braids for more medicine for the fever that keeps dogging him.

* * *
“Nic, come here,” Tattooed Man orders and beckons him into his room. “Bend over the bed,” he says, a hand on the back of Rush’s head, gently pushing him down until his forehead touches the bedspread.

“I found you a place. Made a good profit, too,” Tattooed Man says, and then pricks him with a needle, massages Rush’s backside for a minute or two, then slides a finger downward, until he’s caressing and circling Rush’s rim. “You don’t seem sore. At least you’re not flinching.” He removes his hand. “Hold still.”

He resumes touching Rush’s rim and the man’s fingers are oily now, and he slips one inside of Rush, then two fingers, moving them, pressing against his prostrate and caressing it until Rush starts to shiver and feels arousal beginning.

Fuck, he thinks. Not bloody again.

“You’re fine. I don’t feel any tears and you aren’t in any pain, if I’m any judge. There’s been a change in plans. I’m going to take you tomorrow to a clinic to treat your delusions. They’ll fix you up with your new identity, too, and then I’m taking you to the House.” He slides his fingers out and wipes them on Rush’s shirt. “You can get up.”

Rush turns around and looks up at the much larger man.

“What about the baby?” Rush feels cold dread for a sharp moment, then that fades away to just curiosity. Fuckin’ drug, it’s setting in again, washing away anxiety and fear.

“Not your concern. I don’t intend to spend fuel backtracking just to drop you off. Those two can watch the brat instead for another day or two. And if the transfer for the ransom doesn’t come through this time, I’m done.”

“What will happen to the baby if the ransom falls through? Where are you taking me? What House?”

“Stop asking questions.” He gives Rush a rough push towards the galley. “Go and fix us some food. I’m hungry.”

Rush does as he’s told, with a quick glance at the sleeping baby, before hurrying into the galley. Numbly he fixes a platter of sandwiches and a fruit salad for the three men, places it on the table and leaves the room, heads to the Bridge.

Purple Braids smiles at him. “Hey cutie. That was fun yesterday.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Let’s do it again tonight.”

“No,” Tattooed Man says abruptly. “He’s off limits. He’s sold and his new owners don’t want him being used.” He turns and stares at Dark Haired Man. “No spanking either. I’m not risking any bruising. I’m taking him off ship tomorrow morning, getting him treated and delivering him to his new House.”

Dark Haired Man scowls. “Can’t you do that after we get rid of the kid? It’s been fucking useful having him here to take care of the brat.”

“No. I’m a business man, and I’m not burning fuel for nothing. He goes tomorrow.”

Purple Braids and Dark Haired Man exchange looks. Purple Braids says, in a conciliatory tone of voice, “Look, man, I’m sure we can work something out. A bigger slice of the pie for keeping Nic around, we’d be on board with that. What’ya say?”

“I say that what I say goes. He’s gone tomorrow and your little band of fuckups better come through this time. I’ve got other business to handle and I’m not planning on flying your asses all over this galaxy. One way or the other, you two and the kid are leaving at the next drop off.”

Dark Haired Man laughs nervously. “Hey, it’ll work out. You don’t really want to lose the money for this, do you?”

“Oh, you’ll pay the rest of what you owe me before you ring down. Count on it, boys.” Tattooed Man grins at them like the pirate he obviously is, and says, in a lighter tone of voice, “Nic made lunch. I’m sure that’s what he came up here to tell us, right, Nic?”

Rush nods, and Tattooed Man jerks a thumb at Dark Haired Man. “Let’s eat.” He gets up and slaps Purple Braids on the shoulder. “You’ve got the watch. One of us will relieve you later.”

Rush stays there, and Purple Braids sighs. “Stuck with babysitting again once you’re gone. Damn it, he could have waited till we exchange the kid for the ransom. Oh, well. That’s not a man you ever want to cross.” He snatches Rush up and deposits him on his lap. “Too bad we can’t play, or, well, maybe what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He palms Rush’s crotch, forcing his legs wide apart. “I’m gonna miss you, Nic. Want to suck me off to say goodbye?”

Rush squirms suggestively and feels Purple Braid’s erection growing under him. “You know, I doubt I’ll ever be in a ship like this again, and I want to fly her. Show me how, let me have this, and I’ll gladly do as you ask.” It’s a gamble, to ask boldly for this, but he must make his move before morning, and he needs every bit of information about the ship and this area of space he can get before drugging his kidnappers.

“Okay, cutie. You’ve got a deal. Here.” Purple Braids shows him how to bring up the map of space and their current position. “Okay, this is our course.” He puts a finger on a solar system and expands it till his finger is resting on an icon of a planet. “We’re in the Badlands right now. Probably this planet is where he’s going to take you, since we can’t get there before morning. He’ll have to make the course change, but I’ll take the ship off autopilot.”

He pushes a few buttons, which Rush commits to memory, and then picks up Rush’s hands and places them on two joysticks, keeping his own hands over Rush’s smaller ones. “Okay, we need to keep her steady, we don’t want any nosy crew mates coming up here wondering why the ship is rolling and pitching.”

Gently he guides Rush into flying the ship for perhaps five minutes, then puts the ship back on autopilot. He slides Rush down to the deck and opens his trousers, exposing his hard dick. “Make this nice for me, Nic. We don’t have much time.”

* * *

Tattooed Man makes the most of Rush’s remaining time on board by having him clean floors, cook meals to place in the freezer, and scrub the galley and bathroom, and do their laundry again.

He puts the child in the improvised baby holder, although it makes some of his chores a tad unwieldy. He wants them used to seeing him with the baby like this. Every second will count when he does make his escape; having the child already secured will shave off several minutes. The bag is packed, the drug vials hidden in the wrap that secures the baby to him.

He calculates that the ship will fly close to another star system late this evening. He hopes there is a stargate there, but he can’t tell for sure without his stargate remote. He knows where it’s locked up on the Bridge. He’s fair sure the key is with Tattooed Man.

The hours fly by, with him busy with the chores. The two rouge activists have been arguing, negotiating with Tattooed Man about the money owed to him for his services. Finally, though a payment does come through, which makes Tattooed Man smug and in a very good mood.

“Remember,” Dark Haired Man cautions to Tattooed Man. “If the ransom can’t be delivered to our meeting place, you’ll drop us off at the next system with a stargate. It’s too risky if our meeting place is compromised for us to jump ship there. And if we’re taken there, they’ll probably find you, since we won’t be able to have our memories purged of this whole caper.”

“I’m a reasonable man,” Tattooed Man says, and Rush sees Purple Braids roll his eyes, safely out of Tattooed Man’s sight. “And I’ve made a good profit between you two and our little Nic. We’ll part on good terms. Perhaps we can do business again sometime.”

“I sincerely hope not,” Purple Braids says back, but with a wide grin that makes Tattooed Man grin back.

“Nic! There’s steaks in the freezer. Make us a meal to celebrate, and boys, I’ve got a bottle of whiskey from the Glades I’ve been saving for a rare treat. We’ll drink tonight to the end of our partnership.” Tattooed Man points to the galley and Rush stops folding clothes and heads for the galley.

They’ll be drinking after dinner, then. That will be the time to drug them, mix it in with the drinks. It’s highly doubtful he’d be allowed to drink any of the expensive alcohol, so he shouldn’t get accidentally drugged himself.

The baby starts to fret and he bounces lightly on his feet, while cooking his kidnappers and rapists a grand meal. “Sh-sh-sh,” he croons. “All will be well, wee boy,” and hopes he’s not just told a lie to the child.

* * *

The drug will have to be placed in their glasses, he decides, since they’re not letting that bloody bottle of whiskey out of their sight or grasp, as the three men sit at the large table in the galley.

He’d had the foresight to empty the vials into a small measuring cup, stashed a bit out of the way on the counter. Between the three of them they’ve half emptied the bottle, although only Tattooed Man truly looks like he’s celebrating.

If they stop drinking too soon, he’ll lose his chance.

The baby isn’t with him, he’d been ordered to lay him down on the bench-bed and he’s been pulled into laps, forced to kiss them and let them fondle him in between serving them the fancy dinner he’d prepared.

They are intoxicated, yes, but not unaware of what’s going on around them.

“Ah, c’mon,” Dark Haired Man is wheedling Tattooed Man. “Let me use his mouth, that’s not going to bruise him. He’ll still be in perfect shape.”

Tattooed Man shakes his head. “No. Not taking any chances.” He eyes Dark Haired Man with a knowing look. “Don’t trust you with him out of my sight.”

“How about he gives me a hand job, somewhere in your line of sight, but not close enough to see the details. I’m not into putting on a show,” Dark Haired Man argues.

“You take the watch till morning, and I’ll send him up to the Bridge later. But I’ll be checking, so leave his ass alone. Hand job only.” Tattooed Man waves a hand toward the galley door. “Your watch starts now.”

In the commotion of Dark Hair Man getting up and clowning around, with no one’s eyes upon him, Rush empties the drug into fresh glasses filled with ice and deftly swaps them for the glasses with half melted ice cubes on the table.

Tattooed Man pours from the whiskey bottle fresh drinks for himself and Purple Braids, leaving Dark Haired Man’s glass unfilled on the table.

* * *

Purple Braids yawns and staggers up from his chair. “Wow, that’s some potent stuff there, Captain,” he says, his voice slurring. “Goin’ to bed now.” He stretches and bestows a glowing smile aimed at Rush and blows him a kiss.

“Bye, cutie. You were fun,” he says. “I’d like to come see you in your new place sometime, have your sweet ass again, but, I won’t remember you.”

Rush gives him a small wave and bites his tongue. He can no lip off now, call attention to himself. He needs to stay quiet and in the background.

Purple Braids staggers out the door. Tattooed Man is sitting in his seat, slumping slightly. He looks over at Rush and waves a hand in his direction. “A really nice profit you’ve made me, boy. Good thing I didn’t kill you after all.” He smiles at Rush, and honestly, Rush can practically see the dollar signs in his eyes.

Rush quietly washes dishes, scrubs the counter. He forces himself to not look at the man who has sold him into prostitution. Finally, when there’s only the sound of heavy breathing in the room, he chances a look.

Tattooed Man’s head is on the table. He’s out of it. Rush takes dishtowels and cuts them with a knife into strips. He ties Tattooed Man’s hands behind his back, ties his feet together, ties him to the chair.

It won’t be enough to stop him. Eventually, he’ll work his way loose.

He could kill him. Slit his throat while he’s helpless. No one would blame him. This man has hurt him, raped him, plans to wipe his memories of who he is and turn him over to people who will force him to be fucked for money.

Rush doesn’t owe him any mercy.

He picks up the knife.

* * *

Dark Haired Man smirks at Rush when he comes up to the Bridge, carrying a full glass of the drugged whiskey.

“Well, our Captain is in a generous mood.” He takes the glass from Rush, and places it on a level place designed for food among the controls. Taking hold of Rush’s waist, he tugs at him until he’s over the man’s lap, his shirt pulled up so that his bare arse is exposed.

He doesn’t dare voice a complaint. Tattooed Man had said only a hand job, but he can’t make any protest or Dark Haired Man will wonder why Rush’s owner hasn’t shown up to order him to stick to the deal.

“Are you worried I’m going to spank you, Nic?” he says, as his hand rubs and then pinches Rush’s arse cheeks. “Have you been a bad boy, then?” His other arm tightens down on Rush’s back. He’s not going anywhere, and by the low chuckle Dark Haired Man knows it.

Rush doesn’t answer, just wiggles on the man’s lap. He’s given several light slaps and then he’s flipped over and pulled up so that he’s sitting in the man’s lap.

“You know, the Captain said a hand job. He didn’t say who gives it and who gets it. I like watching you squirm and try to keep from coming, so you’ll be getting one first. You don’t want to like what I do to you, Little Nic, but your body doesn’t lie. You love getting spanked, and you love being made to orgasm. Maybe I’ll make you come twice.” His shirt is pulled off him and he’s naked. Dark Haired Man kisses the back of his neck, and tongues his ear, which always, always makes him shiver.

Balls, shite, fuck, fuck, fuck, Rush thinks, as the man’s large, warm hand starts stroking him. He’d hoped to get the git off quickly, or better yet, have him down his drugged drink first and succumb to slumber before having to have sex with him again.

He feels very small and vulnerable like this, with Dark Haired Man dressed and himself naked. His dick is hardening, and he feels a bit torn between trying to resist and just letting it happen quickly so that the bloody man will drink his bloody drink and pass out.

“Wish I could keep you. I’d make you be naked all the time, spank you first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. I have some buddies who’d I’d share you with, pass you around. Some of them have other kinks I don’t do, and for some favors I’d let them play with you. I know they’d make you wear a cage on your dick so you can’t come. Other things, too, that you’d think were weird or disgusting. Not me. I’m not into judging. And baby, I bet you’d come so hard from what they do to you, just like you come for me when I’m smacking your ass.”

He’s hard, and panting, and he can feel Dark Haired Man’s erection under him. He closes his eyes and he won’t think of Everett, or Gloria, or even David. He doesn’t want to sully his thoughts, his feelings towards them with what’s happening to him.

Just concentrate on the physical, he tells himself, lose himself in the sensations, the feel of cloth against his skin, the dry, rough strokes on his dick , pleasure and discomfort confusing his nervous system.

The kiss on the edge of his ear tips him over into coming, arching his back, humiliating whimpers escaping him. When he’s finally done, when Tattooed Man’s wrung a last few spurts and shudders from him, he slumps against him, feeling defeated. His eyes fill with tears and they slip free and down his cheeks. Fuck, the shot must be wearing off, if he’s tearful now. One would think he should be used to being fucked by this lot by this time. Tears escaping are a waste of his time and bodily fluids.

“Crying after a nice treat like that?” Dark Haired Man says teasingly. “I wonder if the Captain has any more of that drug he gave you last night. Cheer you right up if you had some.”

He wipes his face and realizes that his belly is covered in his come. “I’m fine. Just a bit overwhelmed with how good you made me feel,” he lies. “Can I return the favor now?”

“Not yet. I want to make you come again.”

“Oh. Umm, I might need a moment or two.”

Dark Haired Man chuckles. “You have till I finish my drink, then this time I’ll make you scream. Edge you until you’re begging me for it.”

He picks up the drink and tosses it back in two gulps. “There. Time’s up.”

Rush closes his eyes. Based on how long it took the other two, it will be a good twenty-five or thirty minutes before Dark Haired Man passes out.

He startles when two large fingers are pushed into his mouth, his eyes flying open.

“Get them wet, Nic. It’s all the lube you’ll have for the second time around.”

* * *

“Do you want to come? Ask nicely, now.” Dark Haired Man’s voice is slow and just a bit slurred.

“Just bloody do it, you wanker,” Rush snarls, because he’s been brought to the brink of orgasm three bloody times and then teased by this git’s edging him back down into maddening sensations without completion.

“Oh, that’s not nice at all. Very naughty of you. I think I’ll risk our captain’s ire and teach you better manners.” Chuckling, he flips Rush over and holds him down and starts spanking him.

It’s not hard enough to really hurt but it feels shocking each time that big hand slaps his arse and it’s confusing and shameful that he’s so aroused and his eyes are wet and overflowing because why, oh why, does being punished like a small child make him feel this way?

Dark Haired Man snorts with laughter and then picks up the pace and he can’t do anything but lay there and take this and that thought brings him over to an intense orgasm, and he’s screaming and crying, and feels so taken apart.

God, he hates this, hates himself for being like this. He’s still being spanked slowly and he lays limply over this man’s lap, feeling defeated once more, uncontrollable tears rolling down his face and dripping on the floor.

He’s going to escape from here, from this man and the other two, but this sense of defeat, he’ll take it with him and how can he even look Everett in the eye without feeling so ashamed of how he’s reacted to these men raping him.

He can’t blame the drug for this time. He’s fair sure it’s worn off.

Dark Haired Man is yawning, and his hand has switched from giving Rush slow, heavy spanks on his tingling arse, to rubbing the skin in soothingly, glacially slow circles.

From the back of the ship the baby starts wailing. Dark Haired Man sighs in exasperation.
“Damn. Okay, up you get.” Rush is maneuvered off the man’s lap, and set on his feet. He’s still crying; he can’t seem to stop and he’s sure his skin is bright red on his backside. He’s a mess, dried come on his belly and he needs a Kleenex.

“Go and take care of the brat. Don’t take too long, and don’t shower or wash off. I’m going to watch that pretty face of yours, tears and all, when you get me off. I’m going to come all over your face, Nic.” Dark Haired Man turns him around and gives him one more swat on his backside and a shove towards where the baby has really started to make his displeasure known. “When you come back, bring me coffee. You’ve worn me out, boy.”

Rush turns to pick up his shirt from the floor, but Dark Haired Man kicks it out of his reach.
“Stay naked. You might as well get used to it, because I doubt you’ll be wearing much in the way of clothes where you’re going.” He laughs again, a grin wide on his face. Maybe it’s the drug, maybe it’s just because of the kind of asshole he is.

Rush looks down at the floor as he hurries back to the baby. To where he’s hidden the knife, to where he’s prepared to deal with Purple Braids, asleep on his bed. Then he’ll deal with Dark Haired Man, when the drug finally takes him down.

There’s not much time, but he can’t, just can’t leave the ship with the evidence of the sex he’s just had all over him.

Fixing a bottle, he then picks up the baby, and holds him tightly against his chest and neck, murmuring quiet words as he does a combination of pacing and rocking until the baby calms, then he sits down and feeds the child, the baby so trusting in his arms.

When the bottle is empty, the baby burped and changed, he carries him up to the front of the ship, and confirms that Dark Haired Man has passed out.

He deftly changes their course for the nearest star system, and takes out the stargate remote from where it had been stored. He turns it on, the baby asleep on his shoulder and is relieved when it shows a stargate within range, almost certainly in the star system he’s navigating towards.

Time to initiate his plan, then. They’ll be at his destination in an hour, or so.

In the Badlands.

Where those deadly robot Terminator ships patrol.

* * *

Standing to the side of the stargate, holding the remote, he takes a deep breath. The air is cold, and it’s almost night time. The rings dropped him down fairly close to the gate. The area is uninhabited, probably because it’s the Badlands.

The baby is on his chest in the makeshift carrier; the bag of supplies is over his shoulder. He’s rather certain he looks like an urchin. He’s wearing Purple Braids’ under shorts he’s adapted to fit him, a shirt and a heavy hooded sweatshirt that comes down to his knees to keep the child warm as well as himself, ridiculous socks on his feet that he used rope to secure around his ankles. He has the kitchen knife in one sweatshirt pocket, the stunner in the other one.

He has no idea where any of the stargate addresses on the remote will take him and the baby. Hostile weather, freezing or boiling hot, predators that will think him easy prey, whether they’re animals or other humans, going deeper into Terminator territory or to a safe haven, where he can find help, he won’t know until he steps through. He thinks of Andrea Palmer briefly, how she took that same chance, figuring it was a better choice than staying on Destiny.

Almost certainly she died. And he has no kino to send through to give him guidance.

Hopefully he’ll land somewhere with a hospital, to make sure the child is indeed healthy and unharmed. He’ll ask to be tested for any sexually transmitted diseases. His rapists hadn’t used any sort of protection.

He was disturbed to find when he showered that a fine rash has developed on his belly and legs and arms. The fever returned, although he’s knocked it back again with the medicine Purple Braids has been giving him.

According to Purple Braids he should be over any reactions from the anti-aging treatment he was given.

Perhaps he caught a virus from the baby. The little one had been covered with a similar rash on his belly, but his fever had been very low grade, nowhere near as high as Rush’s seems to get before the meds kick in. Or those bastards gave him their equivalent of syphilis. Still, Tattooed Man seemed like he’d want to protect his investment, so maybe he’s been spared being infected by them.

Time to decide. He chooses an address and pushes the control. The baby snuffles, sound asleep. He has no idea how the child will react to going through the gate. Likely he’ll be screaming his displeasure.

The stargate crackles to life, symbols lighting up one by one until they are locked into place and the familiar whoosh of energy billows out and then settles back, bright blue and as fascinating this time as the first time he’d watched the portal come to life.

He walks up the ramp and without looking back, steps into the wormhole.

* * *

Chapter 40: Purgatory

Everett looks straight at Brody. “Give me the usual.” He wasn’t going to get drunk, he’d learned his lesson about using alcohol to cope with the shitstorm his life was at times.

But by God, after dealing with planetary leaders and historians all day, he deserves this. One glass of Brody’s best rotgut. With its one redeeming feature, he imagines Nick saying.

Brody fills one of the metal cups half full and pushes it across the bar. Everett gives him a two fingered salute and he stares hard at him.

“I’m not going to have to take your car keys, am I, Colonel?”

Everett sighs. “No.” He knocks the drink back in one long gulp. It’s the best way to ingest Brody’s homebrew.

“Put the bottle up, Brody. I won’t be needing it.” Brody nods and does just that. Everett takes the empty glass to a table and sits there, turning it around and around in his hands.

Nick has been missing for a week now. The only thing that gives him hope is that those men who snatched him could have just killed him on the planet, so they must have wanted him for something, or else weren’t willing to end a bystander’s life just because he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The officials he’s dealt with have sent out inquiries without actually admitting that Destiny is in orbit around the planet their descendents were sent to three thousand some years ago. That includes every law enforcement office here and in the other planets settled by this civilization.

That’s not good enough, not by a long shot. There’s a reluctance he’s sensing from the diplomats he’s been talking to make Destiny’s arrival transparent to their people. Oh, he supposes they have a point; there’s religions that evolved about Destiny, and one of the major ones has Rush on level with a demon. In another he’s been tagged as a savior who sacrificed himself to save the crew. That one’s on the money, but there’s another, started by Brody, of all people, or well, the alternate Brody who came here thousands of years ago. In Brody’s religion, his followers believe Rush will return with Destiny.

These leaders are afraid of riots, of touching off a religious war between these factions if the news that Rush is actually somewhere in their star systems is released.

They’re more worried about that than in actually helping to find one kidnapped man, who is no demon or angel sent to save or judge them, just one lost human being who is in trouble, and needs their help.

He’s put the AI and Eli on the case. Right now, Eli’s trying to hack into their communication systems; When he succeeds, the AI will pore through the images they intend to gather from all private and public sources using facial recognition scans to try to find their Chief Scientist. Any written or verbal communication will be scanned for the name Rush, or his physical description. The three men’s description will be utilized, too, as well as the ship’s type.

Eli and the AI will tie in any cases of missing infants, too, since the Science Team is convinced that the baby Rush carried into the kidnapper’s ship didn’t belong to any of those men.

The problem has been that the language has shifted over thousands of years, so while speaking to the officials hasn’t been a problem, thanks to the stargate adjusting the language center of their brains, none of them can read the written language.

Destiny is going to have to translate everything, based on samples of writings from the time their descendents landed here to the present. It’s something the AI can do, Eli has explained. And then, Destiny can search for Rush. Eli’s warned him that it would probably be tomorrow, at best. Everett fended off Eli’s attempt to explain the technical issues; he rarely had the patience at the best of times, and now was far from that. Eli had rolled his eyes but dropped the jargon for his report.

His radio goes off, and he frees it from his belt.

“Sir,” TJ says, and there’s something odd about her voice. She sounds a bit breathless and maybe scared and hopeful.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” he says. God, he’s tired. He sounds it, too.

“Sir, I . . . Everett, can we talk? Not over the radio.”

He straightens up in his seat. “Where? The Infirmary or our quarters?”

“Our quarters. I’ll pick up Carmen and meet you in her room.”

“Right away, TJ.” He rises, secures the radio and takes the glass back up to Brody, who nods at him as he leaves.

He’s heard every word, of course, but Brody takes the duties of a professional barkeep seriously. He always keeps what he overhears or is told by his customers to himself.

* * *

He arrives at their shared suite before TJ does, and he waits in the baby’s room. Idly, he picks up the metal truck Riley had made for her, then puts it down. He examines the hand made cloth ball from Lisa, then the rag doll, literally made from remnants of their tattered clothing, that Chloe had sewn for her.

Nick has made her shape puzzles that she can lift the pieces up by a knob and then try to fit back down. He’s whittled her scads of animals out of scraps of wood from their planet foraging, and made her wooden blocks.

His lover adores Everett’s daughter, and he’s become just as much a parent to her as Everett and TJ.

TJ had ambushed them one night, about a month after Nick had moved in with him. She’d waited until they’d been in their room, then had knocked on the connecting door from Carmen’s room and opened the door.

He had pulled off Nick’s shirt and had both of his hands on Nick’s ass, kissing him when TJ had marched into the room, and said sharply, “Everett, take your daughter.”

He remembers the shocked look on Nick’s face as TJ thrust Carmen at Everett. He juggled the baby while TJ took Nick firmly by the wrist.

“Everett, excuse us please. Dr. Rush and I need to talk. As I’ve been requesting for three weeks. Please don’t interrupt us.”

“Lieutenant!” Nick tried, but Everett had shrugged his shoulders. He’d warned Nick that avoiding TJ like that wasn’t going to end well.

“Sorry, Nick,” he said and abandoned him to his fate. Carmen grabbed Everett’s hair, tugging on it and he walked her over to the window. The glowing blue colors never failed to keep her fascinated, as Destiny flew through space.

Nick sighed very loudly as he picked up his shirt, but allowed TJ to lead him into Carmen’s room.

He never heard the details of that hour long conversation from either Nick or TJ, but Nick was smiling when he came back into the room. He took Carmen from him and carried her back into her room and before long he heard the sound of Nick singing one of his Scottish songs. He couldn’t understand a word of it, but that didn’t stop him from enjoying it.

TJ came quietly into his quarters, softly shutting the door. She looked peaceful and content, as she stood by his side.

She took his hand. “It’s fine, Everett. Nick and I just needed to talk.”

“Nick?” Everett chuckled. “He tell you to call him that?”

She smiled, more to herself than him. “Well, as the three of us are going to be coparenting Carmen, first names are more appropriate, don’t you agree? Nick did. He already loves our child. I just wanted him to understand that I welcome him into our family.”

She kissed him on the cheek and stepped back, letting his hand slip from hers. “Sorry, sir, for disturbing your evening. If Dr. Rush hadn’t been his usual, exasperating, slippery-than-an-eel self, it wouldn’t have been necessary.”

She went out the hallway door, and Everett got ready for bed. Fifteen minutes later, Nick quietly opened the door from Carmen’s room and slipped inside. He went into the bathroom and came out, naked and beautiful as he crossed the room and climbed into bed. He scooted close to Everett, so close they were practically sharing breaths.

“Everett,” he said quietly. “Do you agree? With Tamara? Me to be a father to Carmen, too?”

He stroked Nick’s hair. “Nick, sometimes you’re an idiot. You already are. How about I’ll be daddy, and you be papa. Sound good?”

Tears had shown in Nick’s eyes, but Everett kissed them away.

“Everett?” TJ’s concerned voice breaks into his memories. “Are you all right?”

He turns to her and gives her a smile that he’s pretty sure more resembles a grimace. “Let’s leave that alone for now.”

Holding out his arms, TJ passes Carmen to him and he cuddles his daughter. She puts her little hands in his hair and tugs on his curls. “DaDa,” she says. She points to the door to his quarters. “Ni,” she says. “Ni, Ni,” She leans toward the door, urging him with her small body to move, to go into the room and produce her papa for her.

“Oh, baby,” he says, his voice thickening with grief, “he’s not there.”

TJ walks to that door and opens it. Their daughter can be stubborn. God knows she’s probably inherited that from both of them, but he and TJ like to tease Nick that she gets it from him, just to see him roll his eyes. Maybe he didn’t contribute any genes, but Everett is convinced that the way his daughter sticks out her lower lip when she pouts is directly copied from Dr. Nicholas Rush.

Slowly, he and TJ walk around the room, Carmen insisting on looking in the bathroom and under the covers of the unmade bed. She pouts when she can’t find her papa and starts sucking her thumb and pulling a lock of her hair. He gives her to TJ and they walk back into her room.

“Everett,” TJ says, patting Carmen on the back as their baby starts to slide into sleep. “I spoke with those doctors today, about the health of the crew.” The head of Health and Welfare for this planet as well as some top doctors from universities and hospitals had been on board to meet with her, both to talk about assessing the crew’s current health needs and to give her a run down on the health history of their alternates’ lives after they stepped through the stargate on this planet three thousand years ago.

“They brought with them copies of the kino documentaries their ancestors had recorded. I listened to some of them. Everett. . . You and I got back together. We had two more children, a boy and a girl, and then, I . . . I died. I have ALS. The aliens who lived on the planet and ascended, leaving it abandoned, they had no treatments for Earth diseases. My symptoms start in about four to five years from now. I died two years after that.” Tears start running down her face. “Our children, they died from it, too. Carmen-” She brings up a hand and silences herself.

“Oh, TJ, Tamara,” he chokes out. “Oh, God.” He envelopes her in a hug, Carmen between them. “We’re gonna find some way to stop that from happening. The Science Team will look for a cure.”

She rests her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out, “I shouldn’t have said it that way. Everett, I think it’s going to be all right. Our descendents, they have a retro virus cure that will change the faulty DNA. I won’t die from ALS and neither will Carmen.”

He feels the crushing weight of despair lift from him. “Are you sure, TJ?”

“I, well, I think so. It’s simply incredible what this society has done in the field of genetics. Everett, they have retrovirus therapy from trivial things, such as controlling the color of your hair, to eliminating most diseases.” She kisses him on the cheek and steps back, puts Carmen in her crib, tucks a blanket around her.

She turns back to him, her eyes still bright with tears. “Everett, they think they can help Chloe.”

* * *

They meet the next day in the storage room that’s been turned into Chloe’s quarters, the only quarters on the ship that has guards stationed outside when Chloe is inside, working on incredible math for her own amusement or for the good of the ship. Or attending to human needs: sleep, hygiene, companionship with friends and Matthew. Two Marines accompany her when she’s outside this cell – because that’s what it is, a cell to hold a potential threat, Chloe an innocent victim of the Nakai.

Chloe is gracious – but then, she always is -- inviting him and TJ in as well as Dr. Hugo Jackson, a genetics expert from the planet below them. He’s offering a cure for the changes in her DNA the Nakai forced upon her.

He hasn’t given Chloe details about any of this, preferring to let the expert explain what her treatment would entail.

Matthew and Eli are here, and Chloe sits down on the bed between them. She takes Matthew’s hand, leans a little against Eli.

Ever the gracious hostess, Chloe nods to the thermos and cups and pastries on the small desk. She’d evidently asked for extra chairs to be brought in, for her guests. “Please, help yourselves before we talk. The drink is almost like coffee, and the food is delicious.” She smiles at the tall man who came in with them. “Our new friends have been very generous with supplementing our food supplies, I’ve been told. Even spoiling us with treats like these.”

But Everett notes that she hasn’t taken anything for herself to eat.

She waits until they’ve served themselves and have sat down. “I know that a solution to my problem is being proposed. I’ve offered before to leave the ship. Colonel Young knows that, and this way I won’t be in any danger of starving to death or being killed by predators.”

“Sir!” Matthew says, emphatically,”If Chloe is put off the ship, I’m staying with her.”

Everett holds up a hand. “I’m not asking for Chloe to leave us, Lieutenant Scott. These people think they have a medical solution. Lieutenant Johansen agrees. This is Dr. Hugo Jackson, from Haven, the planet our alternate selves settled after the stargate threw them back in time. He’s a genetics expert. Doctor, if you will.”

Dr. Jackson rises and walks over to Chloe, kneels before her and kisses the back of her hand. “Mother Chloe, it is an honor to meet you.” He laughs a little and shakes his head, his brown eyes dancing, then gets up and goes back to his chair. Chloe looks shocked. “I am, of course, referring to your counterpart, but you look just like her, even on her last day with her people, before the Nakai took her from us two hundred and eighty two years after Origin Day.”

Chloe’s eyes are huge. “They find me, then. The Nakai.”

Dr. Jackson nods. “Yes. It had been something that Mother Chloe had feared, and in her last days she told her family she could sense that they would soon take her. When they came she gave her youngest children to her husband, kissed and hugged her family, and walked out alone. Her family, from the youngest – only a year old – to the oldest living child, ninety-eight, watched as a blue light came down and enveloped her and she was drawn up into the sky. She never came back.”

“Oh, God,” Chloe chokes out. “Oh, my God.” She looks terrified and Matthew puts an arm around her and pulls her to him.

“How?” Eli says. “How can you save our Chloe? How can you stop the Nakai from hunting her down?” He sounds fierce and intent and Everett knows Eli would put his own life on the line to save hers.

“In a way, Mother Chloe will save herself, or rather save you. You see, all of our considerable research into genetics, retro viruses included, stem from studying Mother Chloe’s DNA and the changes the Nakai forced upon her. We know how to take away what was done to you, young Chloe. If you wish it.” He nods again respectfully.

“I do. I don’t want to be like this for the rest of my life.” Chloe’s eyes grow bright, and she swallows down her apprehension, looking resolutely at him. “I won’t be putting the ship in danger by being aboard anymore.”

“Chloe, you should know that your extraordinary skill at higher mathematics may disappear, as well as the long life span and greatly reduced aging that was Mother Chloe’s, if we use a retro virus to reverse the Nakai changes. Perhaps you should take some time to consider your choices.”

The tall doctor smiles at her and rises. He hands Chloe a small transparent rectangle from a pocket. “I know Eli can interface this with a kino without any problems. You have many questions about the proposed treatment and Mother Chloe’s life, I’m sure, and this disk should satisfy your curiosity, but I’ll answer several right now. She had five husbands and seventy-eight children, twenty-one with her first husband, Matthew Scott.” He puts a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “I’m descended from the first child Mother Chloe and Matthew Scott had together. He was named Nicholas Alan Scott, for Dr. Rush and your father, Chloe. Again, it’s been an honor to meet you both.”

Dr. Jackson turns to TJ. “Lieutenant Johansen, we should return to the Infirmary. I can give you the details about the proposed treatment plans for your crew.”

They leave together, and Everett motions to Eli, who says something to Chloe and Matt about returning with a kino, and to Everett that he’ll go back to looking for Doc. Soon. Promise.

Everett makes his own goodbyes and walks out.

Those treatment plans, TJ’s briefed him on what Haven’s medical people are offering. From regrowing kidneys for Greer and Volker, to treating high blood pressure and migraines, and even regrowing hair on certain balding crew members, to anti-aging treatments that expand lifespans, bodies kept young for well over a hundred years, their counterparts’ descendents are practically miracle workers in the medical field. They can save TJ. He has faith that they can save Chloe, too.

If they can do all of that, then surely they can find one short, and probably short tempered, man. He’s going to check back in with Eli about their progress in finding Nick, and then he and Brody have meetings with Haven’s experts in ship engineering. They can resupply Destiny with the raw material needed for the manufacture of parts and hull plating to bring Destiny back up to one hundred percent.

All of this is well and good, and he does believe the scientists and doctors and engineers are on the level about wanting to help them, help fix the ship.

Fix the damn ship, Rush, an echo in his mind of his past useless orders to Nick, back when they were constantly at odds. As if Nick ever needed an order to do what he felt back then was his only reason for existing at all. Nick would be thrilled about all the help they’re going to receive.

He should feel thrilled also, but he’s not. He’s got a gut feeling that there are strings attached to all this aid. Oh, not from the individuals working with his crew.

It’s their leaders he doesn’t quite trust.

He needs to talk to Camile. She’s been on Earth, reporting to the IOA and Homeworld Command about Haven and what technological advances they can offer.

He decides to head first to the stones room. He needs her political expertise with these planetary leaders. Hopefully, she’ll tell him he’s just being paranoid.

But he doesn’t think so.

* * *

It’s been a busy time on Destiny for the last several days, with materials for repairs, new technology being brought on board – Haven developed Asgard style ring transportation long ago, based on what their counterparts had known – and a team of doctors have been aboard treating the crew for their various health problems.

Some of those treatments will take time to work their mojo, in others changes can happen pretty quickly. Greer will have regrown a kidney in about 4 months, while Volker’s remaining damaged kidney will be good as new in about a month. Everyone, including him, has opted for an age-retarding treatment.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d slowed down over the years, but he feels more energized with stronger, faster reflexes now than he did last week. Looks considerably younger, too.

They’ll be able to continue with these treatments when they leave, they’ve been given enough of the virus stored in mini stasis to last for longer than their expected lifetimes, even with the effect of the treatments.

TJ’s and Carmen’s treatment began after DNA samples were taken down to the planet and a retro virus engineered to correct the genes that would have killed them. They’re doing fine, no side effects although Carmen howled about getting a shot.

Chloe’s treatment will begin today. It’s more complicated than any of the others, but also should work a lot faster. Chloe had decided to take the treatment but had her fingers crossed that her math ability would stay with her. The doctors were almost certain that her lifespan will be on par with the rest of them.

She and Matthew are fascinated with the story of their counterparts, and Chloe has seemed wistful to him, as she told him about the children the other Chloe had had, how she and Eli had designed the curriculum for their counterparts’ children’s education.

When she held Carmen, under TJ’s watchful eye, there was a look in her eyes that he’s pretty sure means she and Matthew will be starting a family soon.

In fact, everything is going really well, except for the reason why they’re here in the first place.

Eli has hacked into planetary communications, and Destiny has been analyzing the contents from various sources: news outlets, this planet’s version of the Internet, security cameras, reports from different law enforcement offices.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

It’s as if Nick dropped into a black hole – or was being kept a prisoner on a space ship and not allowed to be anywhere his picture or description would be documented.

It’s late at night, and he’s in bed, trying to drop off to sleep. He and Camile are meeting again with planetary leaders, in secret of course. News of Destiny’s arrival is still being suppressed, still highly classified.

Camile has been invaluable dealing with the planetary leaders and the IOA. These people, their descendents, have incredible technology that they’re willing to trade to Earth for mostly knowledge of Earth’s history and culture.

Homeworld Command has ordered Everett to hand over one of the stones to them, so that more direct communication is available.

He’s okay with that. What he’s not okay with is the hunger for Destiny he and Camile are sensing from some of the groups they’ve been meeting with on board.

Camile is not happy that she will be cut out of the loop regarding communications between the planetary leaders and the IOA.

Eli has included any references to Destiny at all in the searches he and the AI are conducting.

Because there is something else that these people might bargain for, in exchange for all the tech and medical knowledge, and in all honesty, he doesn’t trust the IOA not to maneuver things so that a deal is struck.

And Destiny is being repaired and restocked without Haven’s leaders asking much of him or the crew in return.

He hopes he’s wrong, but Camile doesn’t think so.

Destiny will continue her mission, but who exactly will be on the ship when she leaves this system.

These thoughts keep him awake long into the night, combined with his anxiety about Nick, where he is, what’s happening to him.

* * *

He wakes to the sound of his radio going off. Tiredly, he grabs it and answers Eli’s loud whisper of “Colonel? Colonel? Sorry, sorry but it’s. . . Colonel?”

“Eli,” he growls. “What?” He sits up in bed.

“Ummm,” Eli says. “Maybe go to Channel Two?”

A private channel. He feels adrenaline hit him and he’s out of bed, scanning for and finding his neatly folded clothes on the desk chair. “Do it,” he orders and jabs at the radio. “Eli, come in and don’t beat around the bush. Did you find something?”

“Yeah,” Eli says. “We upped our game and changed the search criteria to include any visual or written descriptions plus or minus thirty percent of the original descriptions. We got a video off Haven’s version of the dark web. It was pirated. Colonel, I think it could be Doc.”

Everett picks up on the hesitancy, the pity in Eli’s voice. “Could be? What’s the problem with identifying him?”

He’s dressing as rapidly as he can. Whatever Eli is having trouble telling him, he already knows it’s bad.

“It’s porn. I didn’t watch more than a few seconds, then I shut it down. And maybe I shouldn’t have done that, maybe I should have spared you seeing this video. But I think Doc would absolutely hate for me or the rest of the crew to see this. He wouldn’t want you to see it either. But if it’s a choice between you and the rest of us, I know he would choose you. Destiny tells me she can’t positively identify him. So, I’m so fucking sorry but we need you, Colonel. I’ll meet you in my old kino room. Eli out.”

He’s out the door flat out running for Eli’s old cramped quarters and dreading whatever he’s going to see, trying his damnedest to stifle the hope and elation that wants to break through.

He doesn’t know yet if this is Nick. But if it is. . . If it is? He’s going to find him. He’s going to bring him home.

* * *

Eli has the video set up when he arrives. “I’ll wait out in the hallway. If it’s Doc, then I’ll trace it back to where it was stolen from, and the authorities can jump on it.” He pats Everett on the shoulder. “If it is Doc, then I’m so god damned sorry, Colonel. I’m so sorry.” He leaves then and the door closes leaving Everett alone in the dim room.

He takes a deep breath and hits play. He watches enough of it until he’s sure it’s Nick, then jabs at the control viciously and the picture freezes on a close up of Nick’s face, his expression dazed and his eyes, his eyes. . . He zooms in for a close up and curses, his fists tightening, and if he had the person responsible for forcing Nick into performing in a porn video, he’d choke the life out of them.

He opens the door, the almost silent whoosh loud in his ears, motions Eli inside.

Taking a deep breath, he struggles to get his emotions under control, because he doesn’t want to yell at Eli, to release his anger on the messenger.

Eli waits for him, empathy written all over his face, and he’s struck by how much Eli has grown up, the slacker displaced with a hard working, ethical man who tries to see the best in everybody.

“Eli,” he begins, and then takes another deep breath. “Eli, the man in the video is Nick. He’s been given an age reduction treatment, but it’s him. And he’s been drugged. His pupils are blown wide. He’s dazed and-- it’s rape. Again. God damn it, that man is raping him. What do you know about where that video came from?”

“Ah, crap.” Eli’s shoulders slump. “I didn’t know what to hope for, that it was our Doc, or it wasn’t. Because at last we’ve got a lead, but my god, what’s happening to him?” Eli looks so worried, but Everett needs his report.

Before he can remind Eli to tell him about the video, Eli straightens and gives him all the facts about how he found the video and how he’s going to trace it back to its origin.

“Our descendents, they may have a big edge on us with technology – I mean, they inherited all that knowledge and tech from the first people who lived here on Haven, and they’ve had three thousand years to really improve from where we are now, but you know what?”

Eli throws his hands out, putting way too much drama into the gesture and Everett finds himself momentarily distracted by the realization that Eli hasn’t changed that much.

Eli goes on, “They’re still just people and have their vices and can be really shitty to each other. You know I’m scanning so much information, right? They have their crime and their factions hating each other and religious nuts and drug addictions. That’s why I figured there was a dark web, for the shady stuff. That video, it was stolen from whoever had it, either the guy with Doc, or where it was sent to. These guys who pirated it, they’re charging for people to view it. They’re making money on rape. I’m gonna put an end to that. I’ll keep a copy for the police, but I’m sending a virus to that site that’s gonna destroy all their little vault of videos. I think Rush would appreciate that.”

Eli leaves and he rubs his temples, hoping to divert the headache that wants to ambush him, and tries to think of something positive about all this.

Nick was alive, or at least had been at the time of that video.

If his kidnappers had found some way to make a profit on him, then maybe they hadn’t killed him.

Yet.

There’s no way he’ll be able to go back to sleep, so he heads off to the Mess to drink that coffee-like drink. He and Camile have more meetings scheduled today regarding more improvements to Destiny, which he can’t afford to turn down, more questions about Destiny’s mission.

He misses Nick. He misses his sardonic mutterings, the way he smiles at Carmen and plays with her without any care for his dignity, the way he’ll say, ‘Colonel’ when he’s exasperated with him, the way he makes love with abandon and passion. He likes teasing Nick, and it always makes him grin when Nick growls at him for ruffling that mop of hair that has always enticed him to touch, even before they began to be friends. He loves to run his fingers through it, making it even more of chaotic mess. He misses the way Nick looks a bit shy and a little bewildered when Everett tells him he’s beautiful.

He loves him. He, Everett Young, loves Nicholas Rush.

“Nick,” he whispers to himself and stops for moment in the corridor, the weight of grief and love bowling him over.

He’d loved Emily, had not wanted to have his marriage ended; TJ, that hadn’t been love, that had been desperation and distraction and poor judgment, although he loves her now because she’s family, but Nick. My god, he’s never felt this way about anyone else.

He prays there in the corridor in the dim light, to the universe, to fate, to destiny, to whatever Ancients or other ascended beings lurk observing them, maybe even to his mother’s God, that Nick will come back to him.

Then he straightens up and strides to the Mess. He’s an Air Force officer and he’s going to do everything in his power, threaten, bargain, plead with Haven’s officials for help in saving Nick.

* * *

Chapter 41: Gate Travel

Gate One

Rush stumbles through the gate and down the ramp with one arm wrapped protectively around his chest, feeling the baby squirming against him. Sometimes gate travel can be very rough, spitting you out almost like a cannon. The crew had come through to Destiny like that, and poor Everett had actually hit the far wall when he came through, the force of the planet’s energy being released by its destruction almost causing him to be crushed.

This time wasn’t anything like that, but his stomach feels helter-skeltor, and the baby spits up half of his last bottle.

Rush wipes his little face and wrinkles his nose at the smell of sour milk. “Wee boy, you have me reekin.”

The baby begins fussing, but this is no place to stop and soothe him, so he keeps the supply bag slung over his back. He’d not seen any sign of civilization so this planet is most likely in the Badlands. The sky is more purple than blue, and the air is damp; there are frond like reddish brown trees everywhere and he supposes it’s animals or bird creatures that have resumed whistles and clicks and beseeching cries within those groves.

He needs to go, and he doesn’t want to meet any of the species on this planet so he steps away from the stargate and checks the remote. There are six options and he still has no clue if he’s heading deeper into the Badlands or towards help.

He picks the one that’s furthest away and mentally crosses his fingers. If this is the Badlands then he’s just signaled them to come and investigate and rain destruction down on his head.

Watching the chevrons light up one by one, he hopes he made the right decision about his kidnappers.

In the end, he’d left them alive, drugged, yes, and tied up, but he’s under no illusions that they couldn’t free themselves.

They might be sitting ducks for the Terminator robot ships, if they come before they wake up. Too bad for them. He’ll not lose sleep over their deaths, but he couldn’t justify killing them when he’d had them unconscious and immobilized. Not like Simeon. He’d stabbed him because it was the only way to get away and keep safe from him afterwards.

He’s not sure if they know how to track someone through the gates, but he doesn’t intend to sit on his arse here and find out. They are leaving, now, and he’ll clean himself and boy up somewhere that’s much safer.

The blue whoosh of the stargate forming the wormhole is loud; his wee lad startles and starts crying loudly.

Rush pats the boy he’s carrying on his chest, under the sweatshirt that’s much too warm for this climate, shushing him right up to the moment he steps through the gate once again, gambling on finding a safe haven with medical attention for the both of them.

Gate Two

A fucking blizzard is what he finds himself in, with snow up to his knees as he struggles down the ramp. As far as he can see, there’s nothing but a white out, no buildings, no sign of any human habitat. He shivers and his bare legs are freezing.

He redials, skipping all the previous choices, and hopes for better luck next time.

Gate Three

This gate is in the middle of a fucking lake; it must have been on a high hill at one time, before the climate changed or a river altered course or whatever the hell happened over time. There’s barely room for him to stand next to it while he redials.

The chevrons are only half way through lighting up when he sees tentacles coming up out of the water and swerving towards him. He brings out the kitchen knife he stole and doesn’t wait for the thing to wrap around him. He slices and stabs at the writhing limbs and jumps back onto the ramp once the blue whoosh has settled into its puddle like state.

Before he can walk up and step into it, two more tentacles rear up and he sees large bulbous eyes glaring at him from the water line.

Quick as a flash, the tentacles wrap around his ankles and lower legs; they start pulling him towards the water, knocking him off balance, causing him to land on his arse.

Screaming, he slashes himself free, but the suckers have pulled off his make shift foot gear, leaving him barefoot and he’s no about to argue with the thing over a pair of socks.

He scrambles through the gate with the baby screaming, his heart thudding, and burning pain on his legs where the tentacles had touched him.

Gate Four

Another wintery planet, deep in darkness, although not currently snowing. He can’t see any lights, any signs people are about, so he redials, feeling miserable and shivering with cold or fever, he fucking doesn’t know as the wormhole forms. By the light of the remote he can see dark red streaks climbing up his legs from where the tentacled creature had evidently injected venom or caused a bad allergic reaction.

The baby hasn’t spit up any more, but his wailing is heartbreaking.

He can’t tend to him here. He walks slowly through the stargate.

Gate Five

It’s not snowing, not raining, not blazing hot, soft grass surrounds the stargate and there is a path that leads away from it. It’s twilight, and there’s a brisk wind blowing. He steps down and sees a sign on a post, with an arrow pointing the way the path is heading. There is some words and a number on the sign that probably refers to how far away whatever is at the end of that path.

His head hurts and is swimming, but he stares up at the sign – of course it’s over his head – and thinks it means shelter of some sort, as it resembles a third grader’s drawing of a house. Plus there’s a symbol of a white cross on a dark blue background with an arc of stars over it. He recognizes about three of the letters in the words, but he’s guessing – hoping-- it means emergency help.

Surely it’s not too far. Maybe it’s manned, people there to assist, but he doubts it.

He starts walking, putting one foot in front of the other. He hopes there isn’t anything that’s going to come charging at him, or swooping down from the sky. He’s not let go of the knife since the attack of that water creature.

The baby needs changing, poor wee lad, and is making hungry sounds. “Sh-sh-sh,” he croons to him. “Soon, my wean, soon, I’ll have you out of this wrap and nice and dry and fed and you can stretch and roll. Just a wee bit longer, just a wee bit longer to go.”

After twenty minutes he sees several small huts. Those emergency signs are there again, along with a symbol and words that he suspects is for the group who’s responsible for these shelters.

He stops at the first one. It’s pure dead quiet here, and he sees nothing to indicate any signs of current human inhabitants.

There’s a button with a sign over it, so he pushes it and is relieved when a recorded voice welcomes him, ‘lost traveler’ and asks him to look into the device for a retinal scan, then the hut will be unlocked. Inside there is food and water and supplies and beds. If he cares to leave a donation, it will be greatly appreciated.

At the end, the voice says, “These shelters are maintained in the memory of Ronald Scott, beloved father and grandfather and many times over great grandfather, who accidentally came through this gate on this unsettled planet and was lost, not knowing the correct chevrons for the stargate that would return him to his family. He was found by search parties days later, near death. Upon recovering, he set up the first emergency shelter and his family’s descendents restock it in his honor. Please enter.”

He adjusts the retinal scan downwards so he can use it. Afterwards the door unlocks and he steps inside, grateful indeed for this family’s charity. He locks the door behind him. He’s not well, the welts left on his legs are painful and the fever is back with a vengeance.

A light comes on and he sees several beds against the walls, a rough sort of kitchen and a bathroom, and cupboards that when are opened are full of canned and dried food.

He sighs in relief, drops the supply bag on a bed, and goes about the business of cleaning up the baby and himself. He washes his stinking shirt and sweatshirt in the shower, the baby wrap and the child’s dirty clothing also. He takes inventory of the first aid kit with its basic supplies of bandages and medicines. He’s got Purple Braids fever reducer in the bag of supplies, but there are only a few pills left. He matches it with one of the bottles in the kit, and swallows three. He cleans his legs with an antiseptic and smears an ointment on them that he’s fair sure is for skin irritations.

The rash has gotten more pronounced on his belly and chest and is starting to spread to his upper arms and thighs. He smears the ointment on it, too.

He finds a heater and turns it on and the blanket he’s wrapped around himself feels comfortable. The baby has been content to lie on the bed, soft warm blankets around him and Rush fills a bottle and feeds the lad.

He’s exhausted, sick, and this feels like a safe place, locked in as he is. His clothes need to dry anyway, and while they’re on chairs in front of the heater, they’re still quite wet. While it’s not freezing outside, it had gone cool as he’d trudged to the hut.

They’ll sleep here the night; he’s no in favor of traveling this path in the dark.

The baby sleeps and he heats up a can of stew and open up a tin of some sort of fruit, eats it slowly, sleep tugging at him. He’s not really hungry, but he knows he needs to eat. TJ would be proud of him, he thinks, for making such a sensible health decision. He snorts, knowing he’ll not tell her about it so she won’t bring it up when he’s making less sensible decisions about sleeping and eating and her medical checkups.

There are lists of planets with the stargate chevrons next to them on the wall. Tomorrow, he’ll pick one of them and try again for a planet with a hospital and the means to let the authorities know about the child.

He’s doubtful about being recognized for who he is after his kidnappers’ reactions, but Destiny is out there with Everett looking for him and hopefully it’s known now that Dr. Nicholas Rush was taken.

God, he hopes he’ll be believed.

* * *

He chooses not to sleep on a different bunk from where he’d placed the baby; it’s irrational to do that – the door is locked, the baby would be fine where he is – but he feels better curled protectively around the little mite. He’s not worried about the baby catching whatever he has since he’s fair sure that the little bugger had given it to him instead. Besides, he’s been carrying the lad next to him, exposing him to any germs already.

The wean smells of innocence and new beginnings, this small life he’s made himself responsible for guarding. The baby is safe right now, warm and clean, fed, loved. Lying next to him, Rush lets himself relax into sleep.

When the nightmare wrenches him from slumber, he gasps himself awake, and tears streak down his face. He can’t quite remember the dream, but he knows it was about his kidnappers and what they did to him. Raped him, made him their slave and sold him. He puts a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that are breaking free.

Nausea rises in him and he bolts for the bathroom, loses his dinner as sobs shake him between bouts of vomiting into the toilet.

This is familiar and very much unwanted. He rather despises his body for making him feel so miserable, although he supposes his body has a similar complaint about his damned emotions’ effect on it. It’s a tumultuous ride on that merry go round, and he hates it. He wants off, but he supposes that’s not possible just yet.

He’d done this quite a lot right after Kiva had let him return to his room, when Everett and Greer and Scott and James and the rest of the military had been locked into the storage room and he no longer was told to drink TJ’s green medicine. This cycle of feeling so sickened over what the Lucians had done to him and disgusted with his own reactions to their torture, kept overwhelming him in his sleep. Begging them to stop, the cock sucking, the loss of control over his body from pissing himself to unwanted orgasms, all the tears and crying, he was powerless to stop the overwhelming feelings of terror and anxiety and shame that would boil up out of his nightmares and would leave him physically sick.

After he’d freed the crew and they’d taken down the Lucians, when the danger was past, he’d continued to have nightmares for a long time, although being with Everett had certainly helped curtail them. Everett made him feel safe, but even so, the occasional one would wake him, tears in his eyes, or screams racking his throat. Everett’s arms around him, his quiet assurance that ‘you’re all right, genius. You’re done with all that,’ would soothe his distress. He’d put his head on Everett’s chest to listen to his heartbeat and eventually fall back asleep.

Everett had gone through his own hell with nightmares and trauma, and he understood how it can sucker punch and just fucking take you over. Everett had turned to drink, for a time, but he pulled free from it, found the strength to cope and be the leader he and the crew needed.

He’d gotten better, too, he had. And he will again. He’ll not forget what happened on that smuggler’s ship, no, no more than he had with Kiva’s people, or with the Nakai, but the anguish will soften and lessen and he’ll be fine.

He desperately wants a shower, so once he’s sure his stomach has settled back down, he takes a long one and scrubs every inch of his skin and rinses his mouth, glad to get rid of the taste of bile. The taste of degradation and helplessness, of loathing for himself.

It wasn’t his fault if he found pleasure in what those men did to him, with their hands and mouths and dicks. He had actually listened to TJ and Camille about all that shite after the Lucians had forced him into orgasms. Nerve endings, involuntary responses, yes, he knows all of that. In his head. It’ll take time for his body to get with the program.

He’ll be fine.

One day.

* * *

Gate Six

Rush steps through the gate to the sound of an alarm blaring, which is doing no favors to his headache. He walks down the ramp and is a bit taken aback by the glares of travelers who are lined up ready to enter the stargate.

Apparently his use of the stargate has disrupted the usual schedule, and these people are quite put out about it.

He doesn’t give a fuck. He feels truly awful and the sooner he can find medical attention, the better. He trudges slowly through the exit lane until he comes to a barrier, too tall to climb over. Fine, then.

The alarm stops, the stargate begins to redial and a recorded voice informs him that he’s violated gate travel rule – blah, blah, blah. He pats the baby, who’s squirming on his chest. He hadn’t fussed this time going through the gate, becoming used to it, he supposes.

Finally, a retinal scan is taken, a last scolding given that he’ll be sent a fine for his transgression, and the barrier allows him passage to a terminal with various shops and cafes. He ignores them and heads for the exit to find a way to a hospital.

He knows he should feel relief that this gate was to an inhabited world, with the resources he needs to find help for himself and the child. He should, but he’s concentrating on just putting one foot in front of the other. He’d woken up so much worse than the day before, after lying down with the baby again and counting prime numbers. He’d fallen back into sleep, and thank fuck this time it was dreamless.

Despite taking twice the amount of fever reducer pills that Purple Braids had allowed him, he’s still got the fever, and the welts on his legs are inflamed and puffy, oozing with infection. The rash is still covering him, and his breathing is more difficult. On the walk back to the planet’s stargate he’d had several wretched coughing spells that left him gasping.

They must be underground, because all the stairs lead up and there’s no windows. He studies the signs at what seems to be a train or subway car station, and sees the white cross on a blue background with the arc of stars, so he hopes that car will take him to a medical facility. To be sure, he asks a man waiting there and although the man looks down at him oddly, he confirms that his guess is correct.

They both get on when the subway car stops and apparently the public transportation here is free, since he’s not required to show a ticket or bring forth money that he doesn’t have. The subway car is bright and clean, with red seats and silver poles to hang onto. There are no empty seats, though, and there are no straps free, either. He stands next to the nearest pole, wrapping an arm around it, and readjusts the supply bag on his shoulder.

He stumbles and loses his balance when the car starts up, and the same man catches him with one hand where he’s hanging onto a strap on the pole and then repositions it so that Rush can reach it, telling him to hang on. The kind stranger plants his feet and holds loosely onto the pole and proceeds to complain about the crowded conditions and that the government ought to increase the number of subway trains running since it’s almost impossible to ever find a seat.

“Thank you,” Rush tells the man, for giving him his place with the strap.

“Hey, no problem. You know I thought you were a kid at first. I’ve got a nine year old daughter as big as you.” The man grins as he says it, but not in a mean way. Probably not used to seeing an adult his size, is all. He might as well get used to that kind of reaction.

Rush sighs. “I’m no as tall as you lot, that’s all.”

“Where are you from? Your accent isn’t one I’ve heard before.” The man is eight feet tall if he’s an inch, has many long thin dark braids and looks to be thirty or so. Of course, with the age treatments that according to Purple Braids are as common as dental cleanings, he could be quite a bit older. Anyway, what answer could he possibly tell him? That he’s from Destiny? He’ll think him daft.

“Glasgow,” he says. “Quite a long way from here.”

The man grins down at him. “Never heard of it. This your first time to Haven?”

Is that the name of the planet or this city? No matter, the answer to either is the same. “I’ve never been here before.”

“I’m John-Everett,” the man says, and Rush startles.

“Oh,” he says involuntarily. John-Everett raises an eyebrow, inviting him to explain his reaction.

“My, umm, my best mate is named Everett.” Not untrue, but not the total truth. Best to be cautious about admitting to a relationship with another man, although based on his kidnappers’ tastes, perhaps it’s not an issue. “I’m Nick.”

“There’s about a million Everetts, but not so many Nicks. The followers of Dr. Rush feel it’s blasphemy to name a child Nick or Nicholas, and a lot of other people feel it’s bad luck.” John-Everett looks at him quizzically. “What made your parents name you that?”

The man is certainly a chatterbox. “I was named for my mother’s father. My family no cared much about what other people thought of them.”

That was the honest truth. His mother had left him with his father when he was a baby, and gotten herself killed a year later. Da would never say much about it, but he’d heard it from his babysitters when he was still young enough to need them but old enough to realize he’d had a mother. Drug deal gone bad, he’d overhead them gossip. He’d only asked his Da the once, and the beating he’d gotten for his curiosity had taught him to keep his mouth shut about her.

All the talking has the unfortunate side effect of starting his coughing up again, and he uses his sleeve as a barrier until he’s done, and feels sweat running down his face.

“I see now why you asked me if this turbo goes to the hospital. My stop is coming up. The hospital is the third one after that. Nice meeting you, Nick. Get better so you can enjoy the city.” The man glances down and his eyebrow goes up again. “What happened to your shoes? And your legs?”

“A creature in the water stung me with its tentacles and took my footwear with it.” Rush wipes his hot face. he’d love to take off the sweatshirt, although when he’d walked through the terminal the air was freezing. But he doesn’t want the baby to be so noticeable and he suspects that it’s not really hot in here. It’s just him, and the baby needs to be kept warm. The wee boy has gone back to sleep, and just as well, since John-Everett seems to be a nosy bastard.

With his head pounding it was easier to just answer his questions honestly than think up a more creative answer.

Lies, Nick, he can imagine Everett telling him with pseudo-reproachment. What you call creative answers wouldn’t let you pass a lie detector test.

Yes, well, Everett may be right, but still, there’s a time and a place for twisting the truth, he imagines arguing back.

“What?” John-Everett says, and he’s suddenly afraid he’s said all that shite out loud.

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “Thank you for your help.” The – turbo, was it-- is flashing lights and slowing down.

“You’re very welcome,” John-Everett replies, and with a last wave of his hand steps off the turbo.

Empty seats are quickly filled by people who are faster than he is, and anyway, if he sits down, he might not be able to get up again.

Three more stops, he tells himself, and then hopefully help for the baby and him.

* * *

Out the turbo door, up elevators to the street and a short walk to the hospital, at last he finds himself in front of the A and E entrance, or what he assumes must be it. He shrugs. If he’s wrong at least he’ll get pointed to where he should go for emergency care.

He wonders if this too is free, since the turbo and stargate didn’t require an exchange of money for the service. Perhaps it’s like the emergency care is in the UK for their citizens, initial minor care free, or if he’ll be expected to pay, like in the states.

They’ll not turn down care for the baby, at least. He’s fair sure of that. And once he’s safely inside, then he’ll ask for the authorities’ help. He’d decided against going to the police first. Perhaps he’s just a cynic, but he’s wondered if Tattooed Man had paid off the police to ignore any of his criminal activity. With doctors and nurses, he feels like he’d be more likely to be heard. Safer.

Maybe not believed, though. Still, they’ll take care of the child, find his parents. He brushes the top of the baby’s downy head, well hidden by the huge sweatshirt. He’ll miss the wean. He toys with the idea that the kidnappers got it wrong, that an orphan baby was substituted for the heir to the drug tainted fortune, and that he’s got no relatives and Rush could keep him.

It’s just a fantasy. He would never take a child from his family, and his poor parents must be frantic with worry.

“You won’t remember me, wee boy,” he says softly as he’s walking through the automatic doors. “But I’ll remember you.”

He sees the registration desk, the lobby full of patients waiting to be seen, and trudges slowly up to the man sitting at the registration desk. He’s about out of energy, and he feels a cough building up again.

The man, wearing a black outfit that resembles nurses’ scrubs, slides open a window. Without really looking at him, he says, “Can I help you?”

Rush explains that he’s got a cough, fever, a rash and infected welts on his legs, and something else he’ll only tell the doctor. He pulls the sweatshirt off and stuffs it partway into the bag of supplies and says, “The baby had a rash and a low fever a few days ago and I want to make sure he’s healthy. He’s--”

A light goes off a hand span from his left eye, and he doesn’t finish his thought. He blinks as the man actually looks at him and frowns. He leans to the side, looking around Rush. “Where’s your parents?”

Bloody hell, this was going to get very old, very fast. “I’m no a child.”

“Markov,” the man says loudly. “Got another one here.” A man dressed in a similar fashion, but in green, steps out from behind a screen and there’s an amused look on his tan colored face. He hustles out through a door and drops down on one knee. He takes Rush’s hands in both of his. Rush is so taken aback that for a moment he can’t think what to say.

The man in green smiles. “Hi, I’m Andrew Markov, and I’m a social worker. What’s your name, young man?”

He jerks his hands free. “Nicholas Rush, Dr. Nicholas Rush. Can’t you bloody well tell that I’m an adult?”

The man only smiles wider. “Well, hello there, Dr. Rush. Fly in on Destiny, did you? You must be a little bit ornery to pick that name.” He stands and firmly takes Rush’s hand and he’s not letting go without a fight, apparently, and he’s too tired for this shite. So while it’s embarrassing to be treated like an actual nine year old, at least he’s headed where they’ll give them medical attention, so he lets the man hold his hand and guide him through a door and down a hall and into a room. The social worker shuts the door, letting go finally of Rush’s hand. He promptly moves out of his reach and leans against the wall, drops the supply bag on the floor.

Hearing the exhaustion in his voice, he tries again to make this idiot see the truth in front of him. “I am Dr. Nicholas Rush. I realize saying that makes me seem daft, but Destiny is here. This baby and I were kidnapped: I’ve escaped from them and we need help. Destiny is looking for me; Everett is looking for me, I know it with every atom of my body.”

Andrew the social worker claps his hands together in a slow applause. He says, “Wow, you’re really good. I think you’ve got a career in acting when you grow up. Did you have somebody older help you? It’s a pretty good flesh mask, I’ll give you that.”

Rush stares at him. He can’t fuckin’ believe it after the fuckin’ horrible time he’s had with the kidnappers and almost being snatched into the water by that thing, and the freezing worlds he’d gated through, afraid the entire time that he’d be caught again and this hospital thinks he’s playing a joke.

The social worker shakes his head, still smiling. “It’s okay, you can tell me your name and we’ll call your parents. And who did you bring along with you? A little brother or sister? Are you a student at Saint Eli’s? We’ve had a number of those kids showing up here, just like you did. We know it’s a dare game you kids are playing, but I gotta say, you’re way, way better than they were. None of them thought to use a voice changer to make themselves sound like an adult. But it’s time to go home now, and I bet your parents are really scared about where you and this little one are right now.”

Rush bangs the back of his head three times on the wall. He’s so fuckin’ tired. This fuckin’ fever is burning him up and his legs are a painful mess and this bloody wanker thinks Rush is a child playing a game of make believe.

Fuck him, fuck everyone who’s not listening to him. He didn’t drag himself out of the Glasgow slums and work two jobs to get his education and fuckin’ put up with department meetings and the IOA to let this man ignore what he needs right the fuck now.

He snarls, “Listen, you bloody wanker, I am who I say I am, I’m not here for your amusement, get me a fuckin’ doctor who can treat me and a fuckin’ law officer because this baby was taken from his parents and I’m bloody well going to make sure they get him back!”

The coughing fit from his shouting doubles him over and sends him to his knees.
He wraps the arm that he’s not using to catch his coughs around the baby, afraid he’s going to collapse on the floor.

Instead, the man picks him up, one arm around his back and the other supporting his legs, and places him on the gurney, pulls up the side rails. “Ah, crap,” the man mutters, then talks into a communicator on his shirt. “Markov. Send in a nurse and the doctor to room 107; I’ve got a kid here, and he may be pulling a prank but he’s as sick as he can be.”

* * *

“Let’s try this again,” the doctor says, her voice matter of fact. “What’s your name?”

The baby is lying down on the gurney on his back next to him, stripped down to his diaper and wiggling happily, and Rush has been put into a medical gown, vitals taken, lungs listened to, the welts on his legs covered with a cream that has brought blessed relief.

Rush sighs, and resists the urge to rub his eyes, although they feel like an entire beach of sand is in there. It’ll look childish, he’s sure and he’s having a hard enough time with explaining that he’s of age.

Tiredly he answers her, “Same as the last time you asked. Look, I gather that a group of children have been playing a game where they try to make people think they’re adults, but can’t you tell with all your marvelous medical innovations that I’m no one of them? I have no voice changer and I’m no wearing a mask. Compared to you lot, I’m just short for an adult.” He stops then and coughs hard, until the spasm has passed. The doctor hands him a paper cup and he drinks down the water gratefully.

She aims an instrument at Rush’s forehead, frowns when it beeps. “Fever’s gone up a degree.” She turns to the social worker. “Markov, get the house lawyer in here, we need to do more than basic first aid for this patient, and let’s cover ourselves in case he really is a minor and for now the baby is to be considered abandoned.”

Rush says, indignantly, “I’m no abandoning him, he was kidnapped and I’m sure if you contact your law enforcement people, they’ll be able to find his parents. From what the kidnappers said, his parents are very, very wealthy due to the drugs they manufacture. It was a political stunt to take him, to bring awareness of their opposition to the use of the drug.”

“What drug?” The doctor wraps a blood pressure cuff around his arm. “What’s the name?”

“I don’t know. Something very addictive.” He coughs for several endless minutes, feeling short of breath when it was over. The doctor murmurs for him to sit still and not talk and pushes a button on a remote and the blood pressure cuff starts to swell.

“Jinason,” the doctor beckons to the male nurse and shows him the reading. “Get a sitter in here for these two. The baby’s fine, healthy and well taken care of, but I’m sending orders for blood tests, just in case. The older one, too. Let’s track down why he’s got the fever and cough and rash. Keep an eye on those welts and send a skin sample from his legs to the lab. He says he was attacked by a water creature with tentacles; I doubt he hurt his legs like that on purpose, unless he didn’t realize how much pain he’d be in, but lets see what exactly is causing those welts.”

She unfastens the gown and lets it pool around Rush’s lap, looks carefully at the rash again. “When did you get this rash? How long ago did you start to feel sick, have a fever?”

He tells her the time line of his symptoms, includes the age reduction treatment and how his hair had been changed, and she takes careful notes.

Frowning, she say to the nurse, “He says he’s an adult and he certainly talks like one, so swab him down and let’s see if that’s his own face. Standard decontamination procedures, too, in case he’s contagious. And call security. If his story is right, they’ll need to bring in the HPD, and maybe Interplanetary Law Enforcement.”

The doctor starts to leave but Rush calls out, “Doctor, there’s something else that needs to be checked out. It’s, it’s. . .” To his shame, he feels tears prickle at his eyes, and he stares down at the gurney he’s sitting on.

The doctor comes close, bends over. “I’m listening.”

Steeling himself, Rush says, “The three men I was with on the ship, the ones that took me, they had sex with me. Oral and anal. They used no protection. If they gave me some sexual disease, please, I’d like to be treated for it.”

“If you are a child, one with an excellent vocabulary, then any such sex is rape. If you’re an adult, was this sex consensual?” Her voice is carefully nonjudgmental, he thinks.

“I was drugged and it was never wanted. Never.” He coughs again and wishes he was buried under blankets; he’s freezing, but they tell him that his body needs to cool down, not get even warmer. He shivers.

She takes his temperature again and shows it to him. 103. He’s annoyed to see that the Fahrenheit system evidently won out over the Celsius. If he’d been marooned on the planet along with the rest of the crew, he’d have certainly put a stop to that.

The doctor says, “Yes, we can test you and treat you. I’ll need to do an exam. When was the last time sex occurred?” she says, professional, aye, but still with a comforting tone.

He tells her, and also that it was with all three. He feels shame, although he knows it wasn’t his fault.

The exam is done with some privacy provided by a curtain, the baby now in the care of a sitter who’s feeding him with a bottle from the hospital.

He doesn’t enjoy the exam, but is relieved to hear that there are no tears or damage. She confirms that he has had anal sex recently, more for the social worker and nurse, he thinks, than for him. The doctor tells him that she’s doing a rape kit, and his body is carefully checked for evidence left by his rapists.

Since his genitalia is that of an adult, and the scrubbing of his face with some substance doesn’t peel away a mask, the doctor and social worker at last decide that he’s not a minor.

Just a delusional adult, since they are obviously skeptical of who he claims to be. They swab the baby and him for their DNA, and after hours of waiting in this small room and being interviewed by the police, several things occur.

They are admitting him to the hospital, since he’s developing pneumonia. The illness he has is the same one the baby had when Rush had first been brought on board the ship, a harmless mild virus that most people have had with only a light rash and slightly elevated temperatures. People usually developed immunity to it by the time they’re two years old, but in him it’s raging out of control and effecting his lungs. The high fever isn’t typical, either. His case is puzzling the medical people and a top doctor on infectious diseases is now on his team of medical professionals.

The baby’s DNA matches that of a kidnapped infant named Joseph Brian Scott, and his parents have been notified by the police and are on their way to be reunited with their child.

He’s identified by the retinal scan done at the registration desk as Nicandria Rushman and arrested for the kidnapping of Joseph Scott, and neglect and harm to a minor.

* * *

Chapter 42: Found

“Colonel? Everett?” Camile steps up next to him as he gazes out mindlessly at the enormous space station that Destiny had docked to, in order to expedite the repairs.

He’s been standing here for some time, thinking about Nick mostly. A little about how the ship’s repairs are going and the medical treatments for the crew.

Turning his head, he gives Camile a wry smile. “You’re back early. I thought you were staying for extended talks with the IOA and the Haven representative.”

“I’m going back.” She tucks a loose strand of her dark hair behind her ear, steps a little closer, and lowers her voice. “Everett, something’s come up. I ran into Colonel Telford, and I’m convinced it wasn’t by accident. But, he made sure that it seemed that way.”

“David was at Homeworld Command? He’s based out in Colorado now, at Cheyenne Mountain,” he murmurs just as quietly. “Did he say anything?”

“He said to tell you he misses playing basketball one on one with you.” Camile eyes him thoughtfully. “I didn’t know you liked shooting hoops.”

“I do, actually. But he wasn’t talking about sports.”

“No. I didn’t think he was, which is why I came back now.” Camile puts a hand on his forearm. “Do you need to use the stones, or do we need Colonel Telford back on board for a visit?”

“I’m not leaving the ship.”

“Ah. You know, there’s a matter of some reports Colonel Telford needs to sign off on that’s been overlooked. Since he’s at Home World Command temporarily, now seems to be a convenient time to get that taken care of.” Camile nods to him. “I’ll notify General O’Neill that Colonel Telford’s been requested to report to you. I think that Sergeant Greer and Riley are due for some time on the stones, to see family.”

Everett hums, thinking. “Riley Hunter, then. Not Greer. I need him here. He’s ‘supervising’ our Haven visitors.”

Camile looks up at him. “How’s that going, by the way. I’ve spent so much time on Earth that I’m not up to speed on how things are progressing on Destiny.”

He gives her a quick rundown of the security procedures he implemented to make sure that their visitors didn’t try to take over the ship and the progress on the ship repairs. For good news he tells her how well TJ and Chloe were doing with their retro virus treatments and the various projects being done by the Science Team and the technical specialists sent by Haven. The crew was also being given liberty on a rotating basis, also with security teams to escort them, to relax on the space station with its assortment of shops and restaurants and bars. For now, the space station is locked down – no other visitors from the planet or other ships. He doesn’t know how Haven is spin doctoring that, and he doesn’t care.

“And Nicholas?” Camile gives him a sympathetic look. “Any further word? It’s been six days since Eli found that video.”

He shakes his head. “No. I finally ordered Eli to get some sleep. He’s been working almost around the clock trying to find any other traces of him.” He clenches his hands into fists and looks back out the window, focusing on the stars past the space station. “Eli did destroy that god damned porn video with a virus. The authorities have been, at the best, lackadaisical about following up in their investigation. I don’t like it, Camile. I don’t like how the government is keeping things about Destiny classified.”

“I know. Haven’s ambassador to the IOA keeps pushing that they’re keeping things quiet to avoid a widespread uproar until Dr. Rush is found.” A mystified look crosses her face. “It’s astounding that Nicholas became such a controversial figure in their society when he didn’t even come to the planet. He’s seen as a satanic figure in some of their religions and in others he’s prophesied to be a savior who returns with Destiny to take deserving souls to the afterlife.”

A choking sound that vaguely resembles a laugh escapes him. “That’s Nick, stirring up trouble even when he isn’t trying, three thousand god damn years of it. God, Camile, I--” He wraps a hand around his mouth stifling what wants to pour out. He’s the commander of this ship, he doesn’t have the luxury of letting himself fall apart.

Camile pulls him to her, her arms strong and determined as she hugs him. “It’s not okay; it’s not right, none of it, but we’re with you, Everett. We’re with you and we’re going to find him. He’s too smart, too much a survivor, too ornery to not come back to us.”

He lets himself appreciate her comfort for long minutes, then gently pushes himself back from her. “Camile, you’re a good friend.”

She catches his hand, gives it a hard squeeze. “Come talk to me anytime, Everett.” She lets go, sighs. “I’ll let Hunter Riley know he should report to the stones room. Is there anything else I should mention to General O’Neill?”

He gives her a laundry list of things to discuss with the General, that really, should be his job or Matthew Scott’s, but Matthew is practically glued to Chloe’s side as her treatment erases the Nakai DNA, and to him, that’s more important than a routine meeting; for himself, he’s not about to miss any new intel about Nick. And then there’s his paranoid gut feeling that he doesn’t want to be on the wrong end of the stones. If he exchanges with a higher ranking officer than his officers, that individual might make decisions that would benefit the IOA and Haven, but leave Destiny’s people out in the cold.

It’s not a good feeling, to be so suspicious of the intentions of the IOA and Homeworld Command.

But necessary. Some of those in charge would sacrifice his crew in a heart beat if it would advance their own agenda.

He wishes Nick was here to listen to him. He can just picture him rubbing his forehead the way he does when the stupidity and short sightedness of the human race is again brought to his attention. The sigh, the roll of his eyes.

To think that once he thought Nicholas Rush couldn’t be deciphered, that whatever he was thinking was hidden behind his shuttered expressions.

He shakes his head. Past Everett was just plain fucking blind, Nick’s such an open book to him now.

There’s a snort behind him. He knows that sound, made by a skeptical son-of-a-bitch.

“Hello, Destiny,” he says, as he turns and looks down into the face of a much younger version of Nick taking a drag off of a cigarette. “Report.”

Little Nick rolls his eyes and blows a cigarette smoke ring right in Everett’s face. “I’m no one of your soldiers, Colonel.”

“No, you’re the AI of this ship, and I still need you to report. You know, I don’t mind that you’re borrowing Nick’s preteen body, but did you have to include the attitude? I don’t have the patience to deal with an oppositional twelve year old child.” He feels like rolling his own eyes.

Twelve year old Nick glares at him. The effect is kind of hilarious combined with the mop of hair in his face. “Fourteen and a half. Nicholas Rush would no thank you for describing my appearance as a child’s. He left childhood behind long before his twelfth birthday.”

That kills any humor he was starting to feel. “Yeah, I know. So, Destiny, what’s up.”

“I would prefer to speak to Eli, but he is so deeply asleep that I can no reach him even in his dreams. Colonel Young, your misgivings about the Haven government are well founded. They have been playing us. We didn’t infiltrate their communication systems. They left the door open for us and are quietly watching to see if we will lead them to Dr. Rush, without them alerting their own subordinate networks of agencies of their search.”

“You’re sure?”

“Aye. I’m now watching the observers. My calculations predict that when we are close to locating Dr. Rush, we’ll no longer be allowed to muck about with their networks and systems. We’ll be locked out. We must be extremely careful not to tip them off.”

“Damn,” Everett says, because he gets it, he does. Haven doesn’t want any publicity about Dr. Rush actually being somewhere among their people, since he’s seen as either a demon or their savior. Better to let Destiny sift through the data to find him. This way the news won’t leak out because it’s asking a lot of this bunch of humans to keep this a secret. They won’t, that’s a given, and with Nick so tied into different religions, it could really destabilize their government and society.

“Aye, it’s pure dead brilliant on their part, the fuckers.” AI Nick takes another puff on his cigarette, then starts hacking up a lung. Everett is tempted to give him a lecture about the evils of smoking, but what would be the point? It’s not like his bad habit was real. He wonders how long Nick smoked when he was a kid. He had started smoking again after Gloria died, Nick had told him that, but he didn’t know why or when he’d quit before that. Did he do it for her? For his health? He wants to know suddenly, it seems important; he really wants to talk to Nick and learn this about him.

He can’t, though. He won’t ask the AI, either. He wants to hear it from Nick.

The AI is looking at him skeptically, probably reading his mind. He says, “You’ll keep me or Eli informed? Can you keep them from locking us out?”

“Keep you informed? O’ course I will, preferably Eli, despite his regrettable tendency to giggle at my appearance.” Fourteen and a half year old Nick takes a last puff on his cigarette and then grinds it out on the deck, under a pair of very worn out boots. The cigarette smoke makes Everett’s nose burn and he has to fight to not cough. It’s not real, he knows that, but it seems real to his senses.

Destiny looks at him with Nick’s dark, dark eyes. “I’ll be their stalking horse, Colonel, but I no can promise to prevent them from locking me away. Their technology is marvelous and more sophisticated than what they let us see. But I’ll do my best. He’s needed here.”

Nick’s gone then. Or rather the AI disappears.

He can still smell a trace of smoke in the air.

* * *

David comes on board that evening. It’s odd every time he sees mannerisms and speech patterns transferred to another person’s body, and observing David’s commanding presence substituted for Riley’s mild manner, it’s disquieting.

“Everett,” David says, as he walks into Everett’s quarters, Camile by his side. “Good to see you again, old friend.”

“David,” he answers, waiting for whatever information he’d learned that brought him on board. They’re back to being on good terms with each other, but there’s still unspoken tension between them. Nick had ended his relationship with David, but it hadn’t been mutual. He smiles at his old buddy, and he knows he’s showing a little too much teeth for it to truly be a friendly message.

David raises his hands. “I’m only here to help.”

Nick would be rolling his eyes by now and hissing at Everett to not act so daft. Funny how jealousy could sweep through a person, and David hasn’t actually done anything.

“Have a seat, David. Let’s hear what you got.” He gives a tired wave towards his seating area. “Camile? I heard the engineer that swapped with you was all over the ship. Bet your feet could use a break.”

Camile sits next to him on the small sofa and David sits down across from him, Riley’s blond hair falling into his eyes.

“It’s about Rush, and the crew,” David says. “And it’s not good.”

* * *

He walks David down to the stones room, exchanges a hard handshake with him that they’re both a little reluctant to end. He and David go way back, and he truly seems back to himself. He watches as David sits down, the stone is returned to its placeholder and Hunter Riley looks up at him. He dismisses him, after promising him a much longer visit home later to see his family.

David put himself at risk to bring this intel to them from his contact at the IOA. His source was not one of the main players there, but an assistant probably, someone who David had probably helped get the position or got him or her out of a jam, charming the bejesus out of them almost certainly. As a consequence they’d joined his loyal fan club.

The members of that club would bring him little tidbits of information, like cats bringing dead mice to their beloved owner. David always made it worth their while.

It had made David so good at undercover work, this ability to network contacts and enticing them to give up secrets.

David could possibly be discharged, if it came out that he told Everett what he’d learned, although probably not court martialed, that would involve too much publicity. Maybe he’d be sent to the Antarctica base, to literally be put in a deep freeze.

He didn’t have to come to Destiny to warn them that the IOA was treating with Haven’s government and keeping Stargate Command and Camile, as Destiny’s representative within the IOA, out of the loop. That oily bastard, Dale Strom, Camile’s supervisor, was the one leading the backstabbing efforts.

Their plan? In short, in trade for numerous scientific and medical innovations, Destiny would be given over to Haven, the crew removed and ‘reassigned’ to Haven to act as cultural ambassadors. In actuality, Haven officials were planning on keeping them in a sort of living museum, where they would be interviewed by anthropologist types and history buffs. They would be available to the public as they went about in replicated twentieth century Earth living spaces, showing probably hordes of school kids what it’s like to live on Earth. There was a lot of bullshit being shoveled back and forth, but what it came down to was that the crew would not be free in this society.

It would be a refugee camp. They would not be allowed citizenship rights, would not be allowed to make their own decisions regarding employment and housing. It would be spin doctored to the people of Haven that Destiny’s crew had been rescued, not kidnapped.

In an attempt to not seem like the crew was being sacrificed for Earth’s gain, the IOA was bargaining for their return, if a strong enough power source could be used with Haven’s stargate to send them hurtling back to Earth.

There wasn’t much possibility of that. Destiny was their best chance, once the power reserves capacity had been repaired back to one hundred percent. If Haven’s plan went through, his crew wouldn’t be on board if that day ever came.

Details were still sketchy on how the crew’s removal was to happen. Drugging them, gassing them, inviting them to the surface for festivities celebrating their return, ideas were being bandied about as Haven’s officials worked through their plans.

Some of the crew might want to stay on Haven. Everett planned ship wide meetings to discuss it and he would allow anyone who wanted to stay to leave the ship.

David had stressed that while Haven’s plan hadn’t been presented to Star Gate Command yet, it was, as Rush would have said, a non zero possibility that they would agree to it and order Destiny’s crew to comply with Haven’s plan.

Everett needed to act before any such orders came his way, if he didn’t want to be charged with dereliction of duty for refusing orders. He and his crew were expendable, far away, and being made to stay on Haven would be presented as the safer option for a crew that was considered ‘the wrong people’ to have ended up on Destiny.

And Nick? David had looked at him with Hunter Riley’s blue eyes shining with compassion and pity. “Once he’s found,” David had said, “they’re going to take him with them on Destiny. They need his expertize and they don’t want him anywhere on any planets in their systems. They’re terrified of religious riots tearing apart their civilization. If they pull this off, you’ll never see him again, Everett.”

He went to bed. There was nothing more he could do now. They weren’t leaving without Nick. The ship was being repaired with restocking of supplies, and medical treatment of the crew was being accomplished.

He would make sure they could leave at a moment’s notice, once they’d gotten Nick back on board.

His quarters seemed lonely, too sterile without Nick’s clothes strewn over the furniture, gym shoes kicked off in the most likely place to trip over them, half drunk cups of tea left scattered in the bathroom and on shelves and abandoned on the table between the small couches.

He’d make a resolution that he wouldn’t nag Nick to clean up after himself, but he knew he wouldn’t keep it. He’d been in the military for decades now, keeping their quarters tidy was second nature. Besides, it was fun to dump Nick’s dirty clothes on his head when he was sitting cross legged on the bed and needed a break from working anyway to go do laundry.

He refuses to believe that Nick will be lost to him forever. One day, Nick will be making a mess in their quarters again, would stay up too late and need food shoved under his nose when he’d been working for hours without a break or eating any meals. He’d challenge Everett to a race to the Bridge, smirking because he’d know he would win. He’d kiss Everett to within an inch of his life, and his eyes would go hazy with arousal, and Everett would make him unable to talk as he brought him to orgasm.

Someday. But not tonight. Everett closes his eyes and tries to blank his thoughts so he can sleep, hopefully without any dreams that would cause him to wake up with tears escaping his eyes.

* * *

“I found him,” Eli says, sounding breathless, hands on his knees. He’d run into the Bridge and motioned for Everett to come out into the hallway, holding up the scanning device in one hand and a thumbs up with the other.

They’d had small meetings with the crew, in an area checked for any listening devices that might have been planted by the Haven techs on board, to let them know what was being considered by the IOA and Haven’s government. They’d decided that for sensitive information, person to person was better than open communication with their radios.

Everett grips Eli’s bicep, bringing him up so he can see his eyes. “Where? How?”

Eli pants out, “He’s on Haven, I think. At least he was almost a week ago, when he came through their stargate, and I think he was carrying the baby, he had on a bulky kind of sweatshirt, but I can’t tell for sure. I think the baby was hidden by it. He’d fucked up their system and so they took his picture and retinal scan and from what I can tell, planned on sending him an automatic fine for not, um, like using the stargate the right way. So I found a great shot of him glaring at the camera.” He hesitates, then blurts out, “Colonel, he didn’t look good. He looked sick to me.”

“Let’s go,” Everett says, guts roiling, feeling a combination of elation and anxiety. “Eli, get whoever you need to come down to your setup. Were you able to see if he’d left the planet through the stargate?”

“Destiny and I checked before I came down here. We’re pretty sure he didn’t leave through their stargate. Either he ringed up to a space ship, or left in a small airship, or he’s still there.” Even though Eli was taller, he was having to jog to keep up with Everett as they rapidly moved through Destiny’s corridors.

“Check local hospitals. If the baby was still with him, he’d want to make sure the baby was okay. I think he’d chose to go there over a police station.” Everett strides into an elevator, Eli on his heels, still scanning for listening bugs.

“We’re still clear of any spy devices,” Eli says. “Ginn’s on it. The ones we’ve found, we’ve put different recordings of the crew talking about stupid shit, like if they love various foods, or even better, arguments over the best shows and movies, CDs and so forth. I hope the Haven listeners are bored shitless.”

Everett grimaces. “We can’t let them suspect we’re on to them. Lieutenant Scott and TJ are working on a plan for the ship to leave within fifteen minutes of me giving the order. Any Haven residents on board will be coming with us, until we drop out somewhere and dump them on a planet with a stargate so they can get back to Haven.”

“I’ve talked to some of them and so have the rest of our guys. A lot of them say they’d like to sign on as crew.” Eli looks a little hopeful. The entire Science Team has made great progress with the help of the Haven techs, and he knows some friendships have resulted from that.

“We can’t trust them on that.” Everett points out, but gently.

“No. I guess not. But if they have a choice, I’m betting some will want to stay, and you know, we could use them.” Eli’s back to sounding hopeful.

“We’ll see. First, let’s get Nick back on board.” They exit the elevator, Eli taking the lead.

“Sooooo,” Eli says, as they come to a stop at the conference room Eli’s taken over for his command center, “you think Rush’s anti authority streak would keep him from going to the police?”

Everett sighs. “Probably he’d ask the hospital to contact the police. I’m pretty sure he’d find it a safer option, more witnesses, and anyway, his first priority would be the baby’s health.”

Eli opens up the locked room and they step inside. There are multiple projections flashing through faces and video shots of street scenes. Three are on pause, and Eli grins at him.

“We’re getting close. Look, here’s Rush at the stargate.” Eli points to the still picture of Nick, and God, he does look sick. Sick and tired and just fed up. He’s dressed outlandishly, like a refugee; his clothes swamp him.

Eli peers at the other two pictures and whistles. “You’re good, Colonel. Here’s Rush at a – some kind of subway or train station? – and this one, he’s just walked into a hospital ER. These are time stamped for the same day he came through the stargate.”

“And you’re positive Haven doesn’t know you’re singling out these sightings?” Everett throws Eli a searching look. He can’t stress enough the need to be careful with all of this.

“Destiny’s sure the searches are hidden.” Eli holds his hands out in an open gesture. “We can’t just bust in on them, can we?”

Everett shakes his head. “No. When we make our move, we can’t afford to botch it and have Nick taken to a more secure location.” He glances at the projection of Nick at the ER door, then back at Eli. “Let’s see what’s going on inside the hospital.”

“Do you want me to call you down again when we find new information?”

“No. I’m staying here.” He stares at the paused picture of Nick at the stargate. “Be careful, Eli. More careful than anything you’ve ever done on a computer. We’re gonna steal the cheese from their trap, and we don’t want to set it off and lose Nick.”

“I’m on it,” Eli says, then gets on the radio and asks for Chloe, Ginn, Brody, Volker, and Park to come party with him at his place.

Everett sits his ass down out of the Science Team’s way and resolves to let them work without him breathing down their necks. Nick’s lectured him enough times about how annoying he finds that little habit of Everett’s.

He’d give anything to hear Nick fume at him again about ‘overbearing bloody military types’ and if he’d stop his hovering it’d be pure dead brilliant.

* * *

The Science Team prepares a series of video reports, based on their trawling through Nick’s hospital records and the interviews done with the police. When they’re done, he calls TJ down, and Matthew and Greer. Camile had joined them when she’d returned from her daily appointment with the stones. They’d conferred and decided for now to stop any exchanges with the IOA and avoid reporting in to Homeworld Command. Haven officials have a stone, so communication isn’t totally cut off, but it should let them stall if it looks like orders are coming down to turn Destiny over to Haven.

His people look solemn, worried. From what he’s overheard and seen glimpses of the recordings, Nick is in a bad way.

He wants options, he wants plans; these are smart people, the best, and he trusts them with his life.

He’s trusting them with Nick’s life.

TJ walks in with one of their laptops, holding Carmen and the diaper bag. She plops their daughter down on a thin blanket she spreads on the floor and dumps out toys.

“Sorry, couldn’t find a baby sitter on short notice,” she says, sitting down next to Carmen.

She opens up the laptop and looks up expectantly. “I’m ready, if the rest of you are.”

The rest of the group arrange themselves so that they can see the holographic screen Eli’s set up.

Everett is off to the side, arms crossed, when the AI shimmers into view next to him. “Everett,” the young version of Nick says. “My projections estimate that you have at the most two days before the authorities figure out who Nicandria Rushman really is, and he’s moved to a high security facility. More likely, you have less than twenty-four hours.”

He tightens his fists. “Can we ring down and snatch him from the hospital?”

The AI shakes his head. “No, and more’s the pity. There’s anti beaming technology that protects the hospital itself, although there’s a designated area outside the hospital near where ambulances and air vehicles can land and pick up or deliver patients that is set aside for use of the rings.”

“So, we need to get him out of his room and to that area without causing any suspicion,” Everett muses. He frowns at this smaller version of Nick. “Stick around,” he advises the AI. Little Nick nods and leans against the wall, staying close to him. It reminds him of how Nick used to hover near the exits during meetings. He’s better now, but back then he was always on his guard.

“Let’s get to work, people,” he orders. “Eli, show the hospital records first. Destiny’s translated it all into a form we can read, I assume.”

He assumed correctly. Some of it is things like Nick’s vitals over the last week, and shit, he’s been really sick. He’s kept a high fever that their fever reducers only knock back for a while. He’s been on oxygen since he came into the ER and TJ scrutinizes what looks like X-Rays to him, remarking that he’s got pneumonia and he’s not responded well to the medicine he’s been on. She has Eli pause the recording so she can read reports and she makes notes on her laptop.

“Sir,” she says sounding her most professional, “he’s still contagious. We’re going to need to adapt a room with negative pressure and we’ll need to get him into a patient isolation suit before he comes into contact with any of the crew. This virus he contracted from the child, we have no protection against it, either. We’re going to need to increase our supplies of protection equipment. We’ll need shoe covers, masks, gowns, visors, everything.”

Brody raises a hand. “I’m on it, Colonel. I’ll get with TJ on what we need to manufacture and fix up a negative pressure room.”

The AI sighs loudly. “No need, Mr. Brody, to adapt any rooms. Lieutenant Johanson, I’ll be happy to show you the isolation rooms in an auxiliary infirmary. They are negative pressure rooms and in addition, those rooms, and anywhere groups gather and the corridors, are designed with ultraviolet lights and lasers to kill bacteria and germs. It should work on this virus, I believe, although these techniques didn’t stop the Ancient’s plague, from the last transmissions the ship received and what Dr. Jackson reported. There are in addition, portable lasers and ultraviolet lights to decontaminate crew quarters.”

“Wait a minute,” Volker says, sounding suspicious. “Would those have worked on those damn ticks that made us hallucinate or those intelligent ‘bugs’ that were drinking all our water?”

The AI shrugs, an exact copy of Nick’s. “Most likely.”

“Why didn’t you let us know that?” Volker sounds pissed. “Seriously, those ticks were no fun, and while I guess you were fine with letting me have panic attacks about being in a damn coffin, Rush was not having a great time either, hallucinating that the Nakai were drowning him again in a water tank and had taken over the ship. Isn’t he your fair haired boy? Why’d you let him suffer?”

Little Nick rubs his forehead. “Let’s just leave it that if those situations came up now, I would no just observe what happened. I’d intervene.”

Brody stares at Volker. “Rush told you he hallucinated being trapped in the Nakai water tank?”

Volker raises his shoulders in a defensive shrug. “What? We talk. Sometimes.”

Everett remembered the occasion. Nick had lost to him playing chess and as a forfeit had to have a conversation with Dale Volker about something other than their current work project. Nick had given his word – and had also had a couple of shots of Brody’s moonshine before tracking Volker down in the observation room relaxing listening to classical music. Nick had even admitted that he’d enjoyed listening to the music with Volker and that it hadn’t been terrible to talk to the man about ‘some shared experiences.’

Not that he was going to tell Volker about the bet. Not in this lifetime.

“Umm,” Eli says. “I edited out a lot of the recordings of Doc just sleeping but it might be a good idea to listen to the conversations he had with the medical people, or actually, the conversations the medical people had about him. They talked to each other more than they talked to him. Ignored his questions for the most part.”

Ginn says, “The medical people, they know he is a prisoner, accused of kidnapping the child he saved. He is low status to them, considered ignorant, illiterate since he can not read their documents. They will care for him, it is their responsibility, but it is distasteful and they resent the time needed to do so for a criminal.”

“Ginn’s right, their attitude sucks. I mean, he brought the baby to safety, you’d think they could cut him some slack,” Eli says. “And, uh, I don’t know about some of the rest. He’s had nightmares a lot, wakes up disoriented, not sure where he’s at or when. He’s had fever hallucinations, too. A couple of times he thought he was on the Nakai ship and they were trying to break into his mind, trick him with illusions. Sometimes he thinks he’s on Destiny and he’s going to be raped again. Mostly though, he thinks he’s back on that ship that took him and he gets frantic about where the baby is and what his kidnappers are going to make him do for them.”

He looks at Everett. “I’m not sure how helpful all that’s going to be. I do know he wouldn’t want us to watch any of it. So, how much should I show? All of it? Just some? You’re practically married to the guy, so I think you qualify as like, next of kin, or something. What do you want me to do, Colonel?”

Everett frowns. There’s a line here between Nick’s privacy and need to know information to get him home. Still, Nakai and Lucian Alliance nightmares, he can’t see any of that giving them any useful information. If they didn’t know where he was, the nightmares about the kidnappers should be viewed, but they’ve got that covered. They know exactly where he is. The trick is getting him out safely without triggering a response that would lead to orders to surrender Destiny to the authorities. It might be satisfying to storm down to the planet and attack the hospital, break him out by force, but there might be civilian casualties or a shoot out between law enforcement at the hospital and their forces.

Shaking his head, he says, “Skip the nightmares, and the hallucinations. Anybody disagree?” When no one does, he waves a hand at Eli. “Let’s hear what the doctors had to say, then move on to the law enforcement recordings.”

* * *

In the interviews, the Haven officers are clearly skeptical of Nick’s story, but they dutifully take down his details. He’s not helping by his insisting that he’s actually Dr. Nicholas Rush, and he’s not daft. They confirm fairly quickly another ID through a retinal scan, which matches the one done at the ER registration desk, and after that they don’t believe a word Nick tries to tell them.

In between bouts of coughing, and the nurses taking blood samples and inserting an IV, Nick hotly refutes any suggestions that he’s confused and that what he’s telling them is a product of his imagination. They leave Nick alone, then but one of them stations himself outside his room.

* * *

“Nicandria Rushman, let’s try this again.” These are new law officers, not the ones that initially took down Nick’s statement. One officer leans up against the wall while another officer has pulled up a chair next to Nick’s hospital gurney. He’s got a tired air of hearing so much bullshit that skepticism projects from him like a force field.

Nick looks terrible, pale, an oxygen cannula helping him to breathe.

The officer identifies himself and his partner as Senior Interplanetary Officers and then fixes Nick with a no nonsense look. “Nic. I can call you Nic? You don’t seem to like your full name. Well, Nic, you say three men forced you into their airship when you were picking fruit on some planet in order to care for a baby they told you they’d kidnapped. Let’s cut the drama out.” He reaches over to Nick and turns his face so that Nick is forced to look directly at him. “You’re a whore, Nic.”

“I’m not a prostitute, and I told those other cops the same thing,” Nick spits out at him, eyes angry. “The men who took me bloody well made all of that up.”

“Sure. You’re a scientist, you’re Dr. Rush. One that couldn’t even read five words by himself on the waiver for a lawyer the Haven officers showed you. Nic - that’s the name your records say you go by- you didn’t even finish school and your obsession with Destiny and Dr. Rush are pretty well documented. Now let me tell you what I think went down.”

He lets go of Nick’s face. “You’re cute, Nic. Probably popular with some clients who’ve got a thing for a little guy they can dominate. Hold you down with one hand.” He leans over Nick and slides the pillows out from under his shoulders and head and pushes him down flat on the gurney. “Kind of like this, right?”

Nick starts struggling, but stops soon. “Get off,” he demands, gasping.

“These men, they hired you for a party.”

“They forced me to have sex with them, I no consented to any of it,” Nick says, breathing hard.

“Sh-sh-sh,” the officer says. “I’m explaining what actually happened.” He drops his hand down on top of the sheet and cups Nick’s genitals. “We know you’re a whore, Nic, and the doc confirmed that you’ve had sex with multiple male partners recently.”

“Stop touching me, you git.!” Nick starts to struggle again.

“Just doing a little reality grounding, Nic. Letting clients touch you is how you make your money, remember. You need a reminder, baby.” The officer, and Everett is so angry with him that his hands clench into fists and he pictures choking the smirk off his face, he slides his hand under the sheets and starts stroking Nick.

“I’ll yell for a nurse, if you don’t get the fuck off me!” Nick’s outburst ends in a coughing fit.

The officer waits until Nic stops and offers him a glass of water with a straw, but doesn’t stop his slow stroking under the sheets. “Go ahead and yell. They’re not going to interfere. Here, drink this.” Nick makes a frustrated noise and stares up at the ceiling. The officer makes a tsking sound. “Look at me, Nic. Pay attention and let’s remember what really happened.” He sits the water back down and continues playing with Nick’s genitals.

Nick keeps staring up at the ceiling. The officer shrugs. “Let’s make a deal. You look at me, and I won’t touch your money-maker. And you answer all my questions honestly, no attitude, cause I can tell you got a smart mouth. I can get a truth tester in here, but I’m betting that won’t be necessary. So, Nic, what will it be?”

Nick sighs and turns, his eyes on the officer, who brings his hand out from under the sheet and helps Nick sit up against the pillows. He offers the water again but won’t let Nick hold the glass. Nick stops trying to take it himself and takes several long gulps of water, sucking through a straw. When he shakes his head, the officer puts the glass down and gently pushes Nick’s hair off his forehead.

“Better?” Nick nods. He’s not resisting anymore, he seems too tired to try. “Okay, listen up.”

The officer tucks a lock of hair behind Nick’s ear. “You say you left the kidnappers out in the badlands, ringed down to a planet and used the stargate to take you to Haven. Sure. Sounds like a holodrama plot. What really happened is that you were kicked out after fucking your clients. Records say you’ve belonged to a house for the last four months, so they’d have paid in advance. So, who’s the kid? We’re running his DNA against yours, cause I’m betting he’s yours. We talked with the nurses and the doc, you’ve been acting like you’re his father. The mom ditch the kid with you and you think you’re gonna find him a – what? A better home? That why you keep claiming he was kidnapped?”

Nick shuts his eyes.

“Hey, kid, Nic. Open your eyes and look at me, or I won’t hold up my end of the deal.”

Nick does and he looks vulnerable and exhausted and Everett wants to pull him to him and hug him until that look disappears. He can’t do anything except watch and hope that they can pull this off, that Nick will come back to Destiny. To him.

Nick’s eyes are growing wet as he looks at the other man. Quietly, he says, “I wish my wee lad was mine, I’d gladly keep him. But he has a family and I’m no a child stealer. I’m telling you the truth. Two of those men kidnapped him as a protest against his family’s drug business. The other one, he was their go to man, a criminal. It was his ship they used. I’m not the baby’s father. You’ll know that soon enough, when the tests come back. They were hiding out on the planet me and my crew had gone to in order to gather foodstuffs- and they ran into me. They disabled me and decided I could be more useful on board their ship to care for the baby instead of killing me and tossing my body into the bushes. They detested him, you see, didn’t want to hold him or feed him or change him.”

The officer says, “Okay, go on,” when Nick pauses. He startles a little, and Everett knows that look. He’d been off in his own head, thinking.

Nick says, “Yes, all right. Well, they left that system, afraid we’d alerted the Terminator ships to come and attack when we came through the stargate. They came up with a false identity for me – I couldn’t be found in any systems they looked through and they no believed me either about who I am – and some hacker friend of theirs inserted these made up records into different databases going back to my supposed childhood. The criminal one, he claimed me as his property and he arranged my sale to a house of prostitution. I got the better of them and escaped. I took the baby with me.”

“Hold up,” the officer says. “Just how did you ‘get the better of them?’ If you were there against your will, I’m having a hard time seeing how you could overpower three men. They were my size or,” he points to his partner who’s still leaning against the wall and listening intently to the interrogation, “his size?”

Nick sighs. “Aye, they were. The captain, the ship’s owner, he was a drug smuggler, according to the other men. During an argument between them, I was sent alone into his bedroom with the baby and I found his hidden stash of drugs. I took ones that would have a sedative effect with overdosing. I put it in their drinks and tied them up when they passed out before navigating to a planet with a stargate so I could ring down and leave. They were alive when I left, but. . .”

“But what?”

“There’s a good chance the Terminators would have come to see why the stargate had activated. If they were still there, it’s likely their ship was destroyed. I didn’t kill them outright, but I left them vulnerable.”

The officer who molested Nick raises his eyebrows. “You regret that?”

“No. As you were implying, I couldn’t fight against them. Putting them out with drugs was the only way to save myself and the baby.” Nick spoke with a flat tone, and Everett remembered how he’d been forced to kill Simeon to save himself and Park, and how he’d caused the deaths of most of the Lucians. Nick took no pleasure in those deaths, and if he thought he could give his kidnappers a chance to live instead of killing them when they were unconscious, and keep himself and the baby safe, then it was to his credit that he spared them. But he’d have cut their throats if he’d felt it was necessary. Nicholas Rush was a pragmatist, and ruthless enough to take an enemy out to save himself and an innocent, like the kidnapped child.

“Why did you take the baby?”

Nick makes a sound that Everett has no trouble as deciphering as, ‘he’s so done with all of this.’ Exasperated, he tells them, “I was afraid they’d end up hurting him. They had no patience and their efforts to exchange him for money kept falling through. I was afraid they’d decide it was better to forget about the ransom and kill him, throw him out an airlock or dispose of his wee body the same way they’d disintegrated my own clothes. I didn’t know where I was going when I went through the stargates, but I managed to muddle my way to this planet and came here for help.” He starts coughing again, covering his face with his arm, and the man glances at his partner, their unspoken communication indicating they’re ready to quit asking Nick questions.

The officer stands up. “Okay, we’re done. For now. The doc tells me you’re being admitted. We’ll talk again when the DNA tests are back. If the baby isn’t yours, Nic, you’re gonna be in a whole lot of trouble, cause we’ll charge you with kidnapping. And if he is, social services is gonna want to open a case. You’re not mentally stable, kid.”

“So truth test me, and you’ll see I’ve no lied to you, and I’m not sorry I came here, because at least the baby is safe now.” Nick is breathing fast and his face twists in a pained grimace. He coughs for a hot minute, then kind of collapses into the pillows.

“Guess we’ll find out,” the officer says and gets up. He gestures to his partner, who leaves and then comes back in with a couple of nurses. They fuss with the medical equipment for a few moments, envelope the bed and Nick with some kind of decontamination covering, spraying down the outside of it and the bedframe that isn’t covered.

Nick’s wheeled out and the officers snags a male nurse. “Hey, any idea when those DNA tests will be back?”

“Probably in about an hour, officer.” The nurse holds up a finger. “Remember, I have to make sure you go through decontam after you step out of this room, even though you both are immune to what he’s got. This virus, it’s weird that he’s got such a bad reaction to it, and while we don’t think he can infect anyone over the age of three, since it’s such a common childhood disease that we’ve all had in infancy or early childhood, we’re not taking any chances.”

“Right. We’ll be done here in a minute.” The nurse leaves and the two officers confer.

The one who questioned Nick shrugs. “He’s sticking with his story, even when I rattled him with the pervert touching.” He walks over to a sink and washes his hands.

The other officer, taller and thinner than the one who’d gotten physical with Nick says, “Those stargate addresses he wrote down earlier, they’re badlands planets all right, including one that’s listed as dangerous in every way, the gate is practically under water most of the time. He told the Haven boys that he was attacked there by a water creature, and the doc confirmed his infected welts were caused by suckers from a marine animal.”

“He’s a gutsy little thing, even if he’s crazier than old lady Tildy. Those welts were extremely painful, the doc said, plus him sick with a fever and all, but he managed to trudge his way into the hospital,” says the officer who’d manhandled Nick.

Taller and thinner says, “I don’t get how he could remember all those stargate addresses perfectly and not be able to do more than pick out a few basic words. Oh, and his house wants him back when he’s released. The hospital had to get their permission for treatment, since legally they’re his guardian. Poor little bastard, he doesn’t seem to like working for them, but he’s got no choice. His contract is for life.”

The other officer who’d given Nic such a hard time, says slowly, “If he’s telling the truth, other than the delusional stuff about his identity, then we might want to pass on to our sex crimes division to take a closer look at the house he belongs to, if he didn’t willingly agree to sign a contract.”

Taller and thinner snorts.“Hell, Mike, we know it wouldn’t be the first time a house has illegally taken custody of some poor soul. If our little Nic was sold into prostitution, who would believe a crazy kid like him? He told the Haven officers that they planned to take his memories of being Dr. Rush, which, yeah, somebody should have gotten him treated a long time ago, but he told them they were going to alter his memories so that he would believe he did contract for life with his house.”

“First things first, James. Let’s get something to eat before the DNA tests are back. I’m starved. We can either charge him after that, if the baby isn’t his kid, or if he is, let the social workers deal with him. There’s not enough evidence to send a ship out to that planet he said he left his ‘kidnappers’ orbiting, to see if there’s any wreckage. Nobody’s stupid enough to just hang around after a stargate is activated on a badlands planet.”

James says, “The doc did a rape kit. Let’s run the DNA results against records and see who had a good time with our boy. If the baby isn’t his, let’s schedule a truth tester to come pick apart his story.”

“Sounds good,” says Mike, the officer who had felt Nick up. He throws a companionable arm over James, and they head out the door talking about where to go to eat.

The recording shuts off.

The room is deathly quiet. Everett says, his voice as much like iron he can make it, “Eli. Give us a summary of the rest.”

Eli rubs his face. “Okay. Actually there isn’t much else. The doctors wouldn’t let the cops talk to him until yesterday, he was way too sick, incoherent with fever, but they did arrest him since the kid’s DNA didn’t match his. Yesterday they did that truth test the cops were talking about and of course he passed. Sort of. The DNA of one of those guys who, uh, who uh, you know kidnapped him and uh. . .”

“Raped him.”

“Yeah, God. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Colonel. The cops found out who one of them is, he was arrested before and they’re looking for him. The problem is . . . we know Rush is Rush, but they can’t accept it. So, since this truth test shows he believes it, they’re not sure if the rest of his story is delusional, too. They’re bringing in the baby’s parents today, to see if they recognize him”

“Do we know when? Can we watch it in real time?” Everett crosses his arms, thinking of strategies, thinking of what do they have, what to do they need, how can they pull this off.

Park says, “According to the hospital, it’s scheduled for about five hours from now. And Colonel, the parents, the dad at any rate, is insisting on bringing in his own specialist and equipment. The police agreed. From what I could gather, it’s a more sophisticated truth teller machine, one that will project Rush’s memories to a monitor. They’ll be able to actually see what happened. But. If they ask about Destiny, they’ll see that, too. They might believe he is Dr. Rush and the authorities will be notified.”

“Camile?” Everett asks. “Any chance in hell of a diplomatic solution with a sympathetic official?”

She shakes her head. “I think everyone here knows I like talk solutions, but in this case no. Maybe if there was more time to establish relationships, but we don’t have that time and we’ve been very limited in who Haven has allowed us access to for discussions. No one I’ve dealt with would help us.”

Dale Volker scrunches his face, thinking. “Guys? Do you think any of the techs helping us on board might help us out? They’ve got retinal scans if we end up using the stargate.”

Brody, Eli, Park, Chloe, and Ginn all shake their head or give a thumbs down. “We’d be risking Doc’s freedom, we just don’t know them that well,” Eli says, stepping up to be the group spokesman. “And a lot of those guys, they’re spooked just knowing Dr. Rush has walked down the same corridors as they have or messed with the same systems they’re helping to improve. Even if one or two could be persuaded to help, I’m betting they’d pee their pants, they’d be that anxious about being anywhere near Doc and that will draw unwanted attention.”

Everett turns to TJ. “In your opinion is Nick well enough for the hospital to discharge him?”

TJ shakes her head. “No. And to let him leave against medical advice, his legal guardian would have to give permission.”

“The house of prostitution he was sold to, you mean,” Brody says, grimly.

Carmen is bored with her toys and is climbing on TJ like a little monkey. TJ says, trying to keep their daughter from pulling her hair down, “We’ll be ready to keep him and the rest of the crew safe, once he’s back on board.”

Chloe says, “When he’s cleared of the kidnapping charges, it will still take a while to get the paperwork done. Maybe that will give us some time.” All traces of the Nakai alterations are gone now, to everybody’s relief. He’s happy for her, he really is, and he makes a promise to himself to talk to her, to let her know soon. She’s been through hell, and handled herself with grace and courage. He’s proud to have her as a member of his crew. Nick will be thrilled to hear she’s okay, once he’s back on board.

“Our two mission objectives,” Matthew says, redirecting his thoughts back to their group meeting, “are to rescue Dr. Rush and leave Haven far behind. Sir, if we go in guns blazing into that hospital, we might injure civilians in a gun fight, might tip off the authorities that we know Dr. Rush is there and lose him to a more secure location, and I wonder, I really do, if they could shut us down. Trap us here, if they suspect we’re going to do a runner.”

Greer turns to Eli. “I’m thinking we can’t ring down to the planet from here.”

Eli shrugs. “Give that man a prize. No, we’re too far away. We’d have to take the shuttle into orbit and ring down from it. And yes, I see where you’re going with this. Our observers are going to be pretty interested in what we’re doing, might intercept us in the shuttle, tractor beam our asses--”

Brody interrupts. “We don’t know that they’ve got tractor beams.”

Eli rolls his eyes. “And we don’t know that they don’t have them. Or maybe they disable us with some other high tech weapon. The point is, we probably will tip them off by breaking our curfew. That’s not going to help get Doc back.”

Ginn shoots a look at Eli, then offers, “Perhaps we could dial the stargate like Dr. Rush did, and use the public transportation? It will be irregular and be noticed, I think, though. Perhaps their security has planned for such? Or perhaps not.”

Greer say,“Nice idea, Red, but they had retinal scans for Doc, so he was let off with an automatic warning and a fine. They don’t have our retinal scans. We’ve already ruled out using any of the Haven techs on board, who do have legit retinal scans, if they even wanted to help. It’s bound to raise all kinds of hell, a group coming through unidentifiable like that. Security’d be all over our asses, and we’d be nowhere near the hospital.” He glances at Everett, Matt, and TJ. “Sirs. We need to think about our exit strategy, too.”

Ginn coughs, an apologetic sound and when Everett waves a hand at her, she says, “I know what the Lucian Alliance would advise. They would take high ranking Haven officials hostage and demand Dr. Rush in return for their people’s lives. If they refuse, the hostages will start to die until Dr. Rush is returned.”

Everett nods. He’s thought of this himself, but a plan like that relies on the value placed on those officials’ lives. He’s pretty sure that going through channels would only result in the government writing off lives; the thought of Destiny as their prize will almost certainly outweigh losing their people. Also, anyone that high ranking would have their own security, and it could end up in a bloodbath for both sides, and Nick still stuck on Haven.

“Maybe,” Everett says. “But I think we’d have to target someone who can order Nick’s release and have him brought here themselves, if it’s their life on the line. Somebody else’s life, I’m betting they won’t go for it. But we’ll keep the idea in reserve. Camile, can you make a short list of Haven’s high officials that we might get access to, maybe get them on board here?”

Camile nods, face somber.

Matt says, “And if this government is in cahoots with the IOA, and we’re ordered to turn over Destiny, well then gosh darn it, we’d be in a real pickle. We go in demanding Dr. Rush’s return, I bet the IOA would push like crazy to have us stranded on Haven and Destiny turned over to the government here. Maybe, if we sneak into the hospital on some pretext without alerting their police, a lower profile might avoid bloodshed. We don’t want a bloodbath with our own descendents.”

Brody made a sound they were all familiar with, a glass half empty grumble. “A rescue party would need to impersonate law officers or medical workers and we’ll stick out like sore thumbs. Really, only Becker is tall enough to get away with looking like a Haven resident. A short one. The rest of us will look like midgets and that will draw unwanted attention.”

“And any rescue party will have to wear protective gear once in contact with Dr. Rush,” TJ states, reminding everyone that Nick is contagious to them. The don’t need a wave of serious illness to incapacitate the crew, or even cause deaths.

Everett says slowly, “These are all good points. Matt and Greer and TJ, work out the logistics for both the low key approach and a full on assault. Get with Camile for a hostage scenario. Let’s call them plan B, plan C and plan D. I’m wondering, though. . . the parents. Once they’re convinced that Nick saved their baby, they should be damn grateful. Maybe grateful enough to help him. Eli, can you get me in contact with the parents? Quietly?”

“Yeah, sure. Destiny can do a video call that isn’t monitored by Haven’s government.” Eli says, his voice thoughtful. “Are you cooking up plan A?”

“Maybe. Get me in touch with the parents, Eli.” Everett looks around the room. His crew. Nick’s crew. They’re going to get him back. “And everybody, keep your fingers crossed.”

* * *

Chapter 43: Interrogation

Rush stirs, forces his eyes open. Something has brought him out of his dazed, fevered dreaming, a sound that he doesn’t recognize. He’s in a bed, and his body aches.

He sees light from a window, and it’s too bright, hurts his eyes. He’s not on Destiny, then, not with sunlight streaming in across the room.

For a long moment, he’s not sure where he is or when. Maybe Destiny was a dream, maybe he’s on Earth right now.

Then it comes back to him. Gloria’s death, the stargate program, dialing the ninth chevron. Destiny. The Nakai and the Lucian Alliance. Kidnapped. His escape with the baby. Coming to the hospital here on this planet, and he can’t remember the name right now. Giving the baby to the medical people; the cops questioning him. Being arrested. Feeling really fucking sick for what seems like endless days.

Feeling so alone. He aches to return to Destiny, to be with Everett again, to touch his face and feel the man’s strong arms around him. Even though he feels used, dirtied by those men and the drugs he was forced to take, by the choices he made to survive, he knows with all his heart that Everett won’t feel that way, that he’ll help him banish those terrible thoughts, make him feel loved and wanted and clean again.

He wants his family back. Perhaps they aren’t related to him, but Eli, TJ, Carmen, Ginn, and his team, Chloe. Greer and Scott. Camile. They are dear to him, in various ways, and sometimes he feels like a brother, sometimes like a father, or cousin, or uncle. Destiny’s crazy uncle, Everett had called him that before. He’d been amused by the title.

He sits up, and feels his head spin. He closes his eyes and waits until it feels safer to open them, when it doesn’t feel like his head will just twist off his neck, and finds a woman cocking an eyebrow at him. She’s standing next to a cleaning cart and he vaguely recalls seeing her before and speaking to her.

She was nice, he remembers. Talked to him like he was a person, and not a distasteful nuisance.

“Sweetheart, you back with me now?” she says, her accent a little different than most of the others he’s heard. “You feeling any better?”

“Aye, a bit, I think. Unless you’re a hallucination.”

She smiles at him, her green eyes crinkling. “I’m real, sugar. See?” She picks up his hand and gives it a soft squeeze. “I’m not one of your fever dreams.” She keeps holding his hand and he doesn’t mind. It feels good, calms him.

He looks up at her apologetically. “I’m sorry but I can no remember. Have you told me your name before? Mine’s Nick.”

She chuckles. “I’ve told you three times, but you were too sick to really take it in. I’m Carmen.” She glances at the watch on her wrist, then settles herself into a chair by his bed. “It’s my break time, so I can visit a bit with you. Sweetheart, you’ve been so sick. You want something to drink? You’ve got water and juice here.”

“Water, please.” She hands him a cup half filled with ice and the water tastes so cold and good, it soothes his throat. “I like your name. My Carmen is just a babe still, but so smart.” Like the name Everett and Scott, the names of these people’s ancestors must have become very common over the years.

“You must miss her. Is she your daughter?”

Carmen looks to be in her sixties, comfortably plump, and he remembers a bit more about seeing her. She was very kind to him; he recalls that she asked him about being in hospital before and he ended up crying, telling her about Gloria dying and the long hours he spent there with her. She hadn’t judged him for not being there when she’d passed.

He swallows hard, not wanting to revisit that grief again. Carmen is looking patiently at him, and oh, yes, she did ask him a question.

“My Carmen is my partner’s child, but she feels like mine, too. She’s walking and starting to talk now.”

“She sounds precious. I heard about the baby you brought here. Little boy is back with his parents now, and you supposedly some bad man who kidnapped him. Hmphh. Not likely.” Carmen rolls her eyes.

He finishes the water and sets it down on the tray table by his bed. His head aches and his chest feels tight. The oxygen cannula feels uncomfortable but he leaves it alone. Her attitude surprises him; he’s had only skepticism from everyone else he’s talked to since he came through the A and E doors. “No, I didn’t take him, but why would you believe me? Nobody else does.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve heard you when you’ve been out of your head, and you did nothing but worry about that child, about saving him, and bringing him to safety.”

Oh. He flushes, wonders what else he might have said. He remembers seeing things that he would realize a bit later weren’t really there, like the Nakai and Kiva. Simeon grinning at him, bleeding and blowing him kisses.

Carmen takes his hand. “Sweetheart, Nick. You’ve been through some hard, bad times in your life, haven’t you? The nurses, they had to restrain you sometimes when you kept trying to pull out your IVs, and such, and I worked some extra shifts staying with you. I could get you to calm down, stop screaming about what those Alliance and Nakai people were doing to you. What happened on that ship with the men who kidnapped that little baby, that wasn’t right.”

“You know everyone says I’m a prostitute.” She’s been so kind, and he doesn’t want to see that kindness die from her eyes when she learns what he supposedly does for a living. Better to do it first, like ripping off a band-aid. Sex workers don’t get much respect in this society, apparently. Shame, really. He’d have hoped attitudes like that would have improved over three thousand some years.

“I don’t care if you are, sweetheart. You didn’t want what they did to you, you told me that over and over. It’s not right, this contract for life business.” Carmen looks sad and a little bit angry; it warms him a bit, her caring what’s happened to him.

“I’m not one. I’m not a whore. It’s all fucking lies.” He doesn’t feel angry about it, not anymore. He just feels so tired and worn down by trying to tell the truth and being told he’s lying, he’s delusional, he’s daft.

“I hear the officers are coming back again today, to do another truth telling session, with one of those fancier machines. Did you know that?” Carmen looks worried, worrying her lip with her teeth.

“No, I didn’t know they were coming back. I remember, I think it was yesterday when they checked on my story and hooked me up to their machine.” He sighs, feeling exhausted. “They think I’m crazy. You probably do too.”

“It’s not important what I think. Whatever name you call yourself, I believe you’re a good person.” She looks at her watch and gives him a rueful grin. “Back to mopping floors and such for me. I’ll tell the nurses you’re awake. You should eat something. You tell those lazy aides that you want a shower. When your fever was so high, you kept saying you wanted to go to the showers, that you needed to be clean.”

Rush smiles at her. “Thank you, Carmen, for your kindness.”

“I’ll be back later to check on you. You’re getting better, you know. The doctors say you won’t be contagious too much longer and you’ll be out of here as soon as you’re strong enough.” She takes hold of her cleaning cart and gives him a little wave goodbye as she pushes it out the door.

He doesn’t have to ask about where he’ll be going once he’s well enough. If they continue to believe he was one of the kidnappers, then he’ll be going to jail until a trial. If he’s cleared, he’s not sure. He’ll fight against being sent to the place Tattooed Man had sold him to, he’ll run again.

He needs his stargate remote. It’s been disinfected and stuck in a drawer. Thank all the stars it wasn’t locked up somewhere else. With it he can tell if Destiny is nearby, or he can once he’s out of here. Somehow the signal is blocked inside of this place.

But, first he has to be over this sickness. He can’t go back to Destiny and spread it. He has to be able to walk on his own. He can’t have all this rubbish attached to his body, either.

Right now, his head is starting to feel cloudy, and his eyes heavy. He shouldn’t feel so sleepy; he’s done nothing but stay in this bed for days and days, but he slumps down onto the pillows and he closes his eyes.

It’ll just be for a few moments, then he’ll eat the cold food sitting on the tray table; he’ll call for a nurse or aide and insist that he can walk to the bathroom on his own now, so please take out the catheter and. . . and. . . He slides helplessly back into sleep.

* * *

Voices drift over his head, and he listens without any curiosity or desire to open his eyes.

"This is him? He kidnapped my son?” The man’s voice sounds confused.

“Not according to him. Do you recognize this man?”

“I can’t see enough of him.” A woman’s voice, high and tremulous. Fearful. “He’s curled up like a hedgiehogie.”

Mentally Rush rolls his eyes. He knows an Eli Wallace name when he hears one.

“Well, let’s fix that.” Abruptly the covers are yanked away and he’s pulled out of bed, almost falling to the floor before he catches himself, and then arms are ensuring he’s vertical. His eyes open without any orders from his brain and he blinks hard.

He looks up. Of course he does. Everybody is so fucking tall on this planet. The room seems to be full of people. Those bloody cops again, including the one that had tried intimidation by molestation. It was a dick move, but he’d recognized it for what it was. It wasn’t his first time being questioned by the police.

There’s a nurse, and by the self important look on his face, a doctor. Then there’s a man and a woman, young looking and civilians by their clothing, who are standing close together. Most likely, the baby’s parents. They stare at him oddly, and he sees fear in their eyes. Their gaze turns to the floor and they don’t make eye contact with him any more.

The other man, he’s betting is a lawyer from the fancy clothes he’s wearing. There’s a tech setting up equipment he recognizes as similar to the machine from yesterday, but with a monitor.

Ah, yes. He’s to be questioned again, hooked up to another truth telling machine.

He doesn’t bother asking questions. He’s learned that they’ll mostly ignore him.

“I want a better look at him, he’s swamped in that gown,” says the woman, still sounding anxious, afraid for some reason. He doesn’t understand why. Surely she can see he’s no danger to anyone in the room.

“Hold still,” one of the cops says to him, and he feels fingers undoing the fasteners at the neck of his hospital gown. They slide it down to his waist and he holds onto it tightly. His chest is bare now. “Stand up straight, and look ahead,” the cop says, the one that was quiet as a fucking mouse last time while his partner had been getting acquainted with Rush’s dick.

He has to turn back and forth, then he’s asked to repeat phrases.

“I’ve never seen this man before,” says the woman. “I’ve never heard his voice either, and I would have remembered. That’s a very unusual accent he’s got.” Her voice quivers just a wee bit, and again, he’s unsure why. He knows he looks entirely harmless.

“I haven’t either; he’s not someone I would forget, he’s so small,” the man says, and Rush takes that as permission to pull up his gown.

He’d like to point out that it isn’t that he’s small, it’s that the people here have grown much taller over the years since their ancestors were flung through the stargate to this planet, or some planet nearby, instead of Earth.

Not that he will. It won’t gain him anything.

His head is starting to pound, and he feels a flush of fever starting back up. He doesn’t say anything, though. He’d rather get this over with, and maybe, maybe, someone will finally believe him, besides Carmen.

“Okay, Nic,” says the nicer cop, or at least, the less handsy cop. “We’re going to ask you some questions. Sit down here and let them wire you up.”

People swarm over him for a few minutes while he slumps in the bedside chair, taking his vitals, attaching wires to his body, setting up a monitor where he can’t see it. He’s given water to drink and then the doctor injects something into his IV.

It’s drugs, he knows. Something to relax his inhibitions and make it harder to come up with a lie. He told the truth yesterday, when he was tested, but he gathered from what was discussed without his input that this test would actually show visual perceptions on the monitor of his memories. Apparently they can then tell what is a delusion and what really occurred, because of course they didn’t believe him about Destiny and who he is during yesterday’s test.

Fascinating, really. Lisa Park would love to get her hands on this.

He yawns, feeling very relaxed, and starts to list to the side.

“Oh no you don’t.” The doctor repositions him and snaps to the nurse to bring a washcloth with some ice water.

“Fuck,” he slurs, as his face and arms are bathed with the freezing water. His gown is pulled down and his chest and back are doused. He begins shivering uncontrollably, and he glares at the doctor.

“Made a wee miscalculation on the dose, did you?” He can see the nurse smirking behind the doctor’s back.

The doctor ignores him. “Let’s move this along, cold water won’t keep him awake for much longer, and I don’t want to give him a drug to counteract it.”

The tech busies himself with checking the wiring he’s attached to, and looking at the monitor. “I’m ready,” he says. “I’ll start recording on your mark, Officer.”

Officer Friendly-Hands crouches down in front of Nick. “How you doing, Nic?” Rush doesn’t bother answering, just looks at him and wraps his arms around himself. He’s freezing now and his nipples are hard. He doesn’t want any of these people to see them and make rude comments.

“Just like yesterday, we’re going to take a retinal scan, and ask you some questions. Answer honestly and maybe we can wrap all this up today. I’m going to need you to answer verbally any questions. Do you understand?”

He nods, and the officer makes a disappointed face. “Out loud, Nic. Answer the questions out loud. Let’s try again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes,” he says, and to his ears he sounds so exhausted. He’s hot and he’s cold and it’s bloody uncomfortable. “I understand to answer your questions verbally. And I have a few questions of my own. Who are those people and why are they here?”

The parents glance at each other, then at Rush. They look somewhat confused.

The lawyer steps up. “That isn’t something you need to know right now, but a judge has approved their presence as an interested party.”

“We’re ready,” the officer says to the tech.

The tech pushes some buttons and points at the officer. He gives the date, location, the reason for the test and points a retinal scan at Rush’s eye and blinds him briefly.

“Tell me your name,” asks the cop who’d bothered him when he’d been in A and E.

He sighs. “Nicholas Rush.”

“Are you known by any other names?” The relaxed feeling has returned and his eyelids feel heavy.

“Nick. Nicky. Dr. Nicholas Rush.” He sighs, not sure if he should add what the Lucians had called him, but he doesn’t want to bollocks up the test results. “Other people called me Dinn and Kreshta, for a time. But I don’t accept those names.”

“Ok. So, name someone who called you those names you don’t accept.”

“Kiva.” His mouth feels very dry, suddenly.

“Name a person who calls you Nicky.”

“My Da used to, when I was little.”

“Is your name Nicandria Rushman?”

“No.”

“Let the record show that the retinal scan identifies this individual as Nicandria Rushman,” Officer Friendly-Hands says.

The lawyer cuts in. “Alternate names for Nicandria Rushman are noted; my clients’ time is short and we ask that the kidnapping of Joseph Brian Scott be addressed. Any delusional beliefs are more appropriate for treatment with mental health specialists, and should not be questioned.”

The officer says, “Agreed. For calibration purposes, Nic, we’re going to ask you to tell us a lie. You came to the hospital with welts on your legs. We know it was from a marine animal. Tell us instead that you cut yourself with a knife, all over your legs, in order to have a reason for coming to the hospital.”

He’d like to roll his eyes, but they feel too heavy. “I’m to tell you a story, then? All right, then I cut myself with a knife for some damned reason on my legs because I’m an idiot. So despite being sick with a fever and pneumonia, I cut my legs up so they’d admit me to the hospital. Is that enough of falsehood for you people?”

“Good job.” Bollocks, he thinks. The cop sounded like he meant that. The sarcasm had sailed right over the man’s head.

“Let the record show the recording of a deliberate lie instead shows the truth of the accused being attacked by a marine animal at a stargate site. Clearly shown is a vague, translucent version overlaying it that is the made up fiction of self-harming, and the technician will attest to this.”

There was some more official blathering between the tech, who had to give his name and credentials, and the officer, and he was almost asleep when the wet, icy cold washcloth again was used to wake him up a bit more. Officer Friendly-Hands then snapped his fingers in front of Rush’s face, and gave him a look.

“Resuming the interrogation. Nic, did you kidnap the baby known as Joseph Brian Scott?”

“No, although I didn’t know my wee lad’s name until the hospital told me when I brought him here.”

“Tell me how you came to have Joseph Brian Scott in your custody.”

He goes through his story again, being on the planet picking fruit, the men making him come with them, his attempt to get away and being tazed. Being ordered to pick up the baby and carrying him into the ship.

“What are the names of the men who had the baby with them?”

“I don’t know their real names. I called them Purple Braids, Dark Haired Man, and Tattooed Man.”

“What was your relationship with them?”

“Captive to captors.”

“Did you have sex with them?”

“Aye, I did, but not willingly.”

“When did you meet the men who hired you to have sex with them on the ship?”

“On the planet where I was picking fruit, but they didn’t hire me. They kidnapped me.”

“Did you orgasm during sex with the men who hired you to take care of the baby and provide them with sex?”

“I. . . Why is that relevant?” He ought to be pissed the police are asking that, but instead he yawns again. He decides he doesn’t care, he’ll just tell them.

“I did. They gave me drugs, you know, to make me receptive. And, you said they hired me to take care of the baby? They didn’t. They took me, but I didn’t mind caring for him. My wee boy, he was so sweet, and it was better that I fed him and changed him and comforted him. They hated him, for what his family sold, drugs to people who became addicted. I was afraid they’d hurt him. That’s why I took him with me when I escaped.”

“You’re a permanent employee to Good Times, a business registered as house of prostitution.”

“Is that the name? Tattooed Man didn’t tell me. He sold me to them, I no consented. I don’t want to go there, don’t make me go. It’s not right. I no agreed to work for them.” He shivers at the thought.

“Tell me how you left the men who hired you to care for the baby and to provide sex.” The man sounds so blase about one of the most terrible times in Rush’s life.

Fuck him, anyway. He got away from those bastards and he’ll find his way back to Destiny, they won’t be able to stop him. But he’ll cooperate for now.

Rush shrugs. “I drugged them. Tied them up, flew the ship to a planet and ringed down, went through a bunch of stargates until I came to this planet and took the subway or whatever you people call it, to here. To hospital. But they didn’t hire me for anything. They kidnapped me from my crew and they raped me. It was rape. If you send me to this house, you’ll be condemning me to be raped. I did not agree to anything with those men.”

There was more, along the same lines, trying to trip him up into testifying that he had been hired by them to help kidnap the child, to provide care for him, and to provide sex to the kidnappers.

He’s very, very tired now, yawning every other minute, and he wants this to be over. He’s not so out of it that he’ll fall for their tricks, though.

“Last question, Nic. How much were you paid to help kidnap Joseph Brian Scott?”

“I no kidnapped him, and I wasn’t paid. I was taken by three men, raped, forced to care for the baby and did domestic chores as well for them. I’m glad he’s safe. I’ll miss him, I will. Are we done now?”

“Let the record show that that interrogation of Nicandria Rushman on kidnapping charges against the minor child Joseph Brian Scott is completed, and will be reviewed by Judge Michaela Wray for disposition.” The officer indicates to the nurse and tech that they can remove the wiring.

When he’s free from all of that, except for the IV and catheter, Officer Friendly-Hands asks, “Nic, it’s your right to view the testimony, and you can state if you disagree with anything on the official video record. Do you want to see it?”

He’s curious, so he agrees, and waits while he’s disconnected from all the tech. The recording is sharp, and he marvels again at the technology of this. He sees Kiva and his pulse ratchets up. The tech stops the recording until the doctor states his pulse is back to normal.

He startles again when on the video he sees his father, when they’d asked who called him Nicky. He watches as he’s attacked while picking fruit and forced to pick up the baby from the blanket the kidnappers had dumped the infant onto, ignoring his crying and need to be changed.

He closes his eyes when he sees himself being drugged and molested in the bathroom of the ship. Tattooed Man’s and Purple Braids’ hands reaching for him, the laughter.

“Stop,” he says. “I don’t want to see any more of that shite.”

The second policeman, the couple and the lawyer, their lawyer, certainly not his, have watched all the video. If he wasn’t drugged to the gills, that would be upsetting.

Maybe later he’ll be angry. He struggles to pull back up his gown and stand up, the nurse moving quickly to his side as he stands there swaying.

“Okay, Nic,” the second officer says. “Thanks for your cooperation, you can go to sleep now.”

The nurse helps him get into bed and he feels himself drifting off. Someone takes his hand.

The last thing he hears is the woman telling him thank you for taking care of her baby, thank you so much for saving him.

* * *

“Nic.”

The Nakai are coming for him. Everett has left him here on this hot, hot world, and he knows what will happen when the Nakai find him, and he has to run, to hide from them, but he’s so thirsty and the heat is terrible and he can’t move. His head hurts. Everett had knocked him out, and he’ll have words about that when he returns to Destiny.

“Nic, wake up.”

He’s forgiven Everett for leaving him unconscious in the sand on that hot world, so why did Everett leave him there again? That’s not right. Everett would no do that ever again. Everett loves him. Rush is lost but Everett will look for him. He feels like he’s swimming up from a deep hole, and that makes no sense. If there was any water on that hot planet he wouldn’t be so bloody thirsty.

“Nic.” He finishes his long swim up as his shoulder is shaken. Fuck. He’s so hot again, damn fever is back. It makes his dreams too vivid, and nightmarish. He opens his eyes.

“Nic, are you back with me?” It’s Officer Friendly-Hands.

“Aye. What do you want now?” He struggles to sit up and the cop helps him, pushes a glass of water into his hands, then sits down on the edge of Rush’s bed. He’s no thrilled by the close proximity, but he’s too tired to complain about it. The cop will do what he wants regardless of Rush’s opinion on the matter.

He drinks, because he’s burning up. The water tastes good.

“Good news, Nic. Your case got expedited and the judge directed us to drop the kidnapping charges. You won’t be going to jail.” The officer grins at him, and slaps him lightly on the leg. “Stay out of trouble, okay.”

He closes his eyes in relief. His life just got a wee bit easier.

“What about the men who took me and the baby? Have they been found?”

“No. But we’ll keep looking. The baby’s kidnapping has been an ongoing investigation, and now that you’ve been cleared, me and my partner are out of it, but your testimony has been sent to them. Look.” He pulls out a small card and presses it into Rush’s hands. “Call these people, tell them what you told us, that you were trafficked into prostitution. They’ll try to help you. They’ll have to take your employers to court, and I’m sorry to have to tell you, but they usually lose. But, I think you’ve got a shot. They can request your testimony, both truth tests, and you said plenty about being coerced.”

He licks his lips, and the cop takes the glass and refills it and hands it back to him.

“Thank you,” Rush tells him, and the officer gives him a sympathetic look, as he drains the glass.

“Bet I can guess your next question,” the officer says. “Our hands are tied about bringing charges about your kidnapping. Your house has refused the investigation. I don’t agree with it, but that’s the law. So, call those people, Nic. I also passed along to our sex crimes division that your testimony claims you were trafficked to that house, and it was credible. I can’t promise they’ll look into it, though. I’ll bother them about it, but it’s really out of my hands.”

“I’m free to leave?”

The cop shakes his head. “Technically, no. Your house has stated they want you to remain here under treatment until the doctor clears you. You’re not allowed to sign yourself out against medical advice.”

“But there’s to be no guard on the door anymore?”

“No police presence, since your testimony cleared you. Your house is sending someone to stay with you until they can bring you back. They’re not here, yet, but they’ve got a facility downtown. So they’ll be here soon.”

“They’re liars.”

“I can’t comment. According to them, you were on a job with another ship when they stopped at that planet and you were taken. The records they sent on who the ‘clients’ were are a bunch of bullshit, false identities. They’re shocked, they’re telling us.”

“Fucking liars.” He coughs harshly, and it exhausts him.

“Nic, you’re still pretty sick.” The officer looks up at the vitals monitor. “Right now you’ve got a fever of 102. Your blood pressure isn’t that great either. You’re shaky. Pale as a ghostie. You need to get better first, pal.” The man gives him a dubious look, like he knows what Rush is planning to do as soon as he’s alone again.

He’s not going to tell him that he’ll be leaving as soon as the officer is gone. For all he knows announcing that will get him arrested again. He’s property, according to the law. He’ll call these people listed on the card he was given, maybe they can hide him. If not, he’d rather stay on the street than be taken again and forced to do what he’d had to do on the ship.

“I’ve got to go. Get better, and get yourself treated for your mental illness, okay?”

No apology for molesting him, but he hadn’t expected one. Still, the officer has gone out of his way to give him the number of people who might help him. He hadn’t had to come by and let him know the charges were dropped.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry, I no paid attention to your name.”

“Michael Wallace. Goodbye, Nic.” He pats him on the shoulder, gets up from the bed. At the door, he turns and gives him a stern look. “If you were to leave before you’re better, you’re just gonna collapse and end up right back here. Without medical attention, you could have died. You’re not out of the woods, either. I’m not bullshitting you, Nic.”

“Yes, yes, I understand. Thank you, Officer Wallace.”

Michael Wallace points a finger at him. “Be good.” He walks out the door.

Rush gets out of bed, removes the oxygen cannula and staggers with his IV pole and catheter bag to the bathroom. He’s leaving.

* * *

He doesn’t get far. Two nurses corner him at the end of the corridor as he’s heading into an elevator, and he’s plopped into a wheelchair and scolded all the way back to his room, where his IV is reattached and he’s put back into the bed. He has to admit it’s easier to breathe back on oxygen. He’d taken out the catheter himself, and wasn’t that a fun experience, and they get permission to not put it back in.

It’s a risk, he knows, to leave while still sick, but one he’ll take over the chance of remaining a sex slave. He’ll not let that happen and staying here he’s a sitting duck. He has to leave, that’s his priority.

Everett will keep looking for him. Eli’s a bright lad; he’ll have Destiny search for him using facial recognition technology. Once Rush finds a place that’s safe he’ll stand there practically waving at a camera for Everett and his crew to come and find him. Perhaps with the help of that advocacy group he left a message with, although chances are they’ll think him daft, too, and not help him to contact Destiny.

It could take a long time, though. But he’ll be free and keep his own mind, not become a brainwashed puppet for others to fuck. They can take his memories of who he is; he’s no sure the reverse is true, that his missing memories can be restored.

The stargate remote is again disinfected and placed in a drawer. He’d been forced to stay in the hospital gown, as the ragtag clothes he’d been wearing on arrival had either been taken for evidence or binned. That’s something he needs to get around, when he tries his next escape attempt.

They point out the camera to him and tell him point blank that if tries that again, they have permission to restrain him because he’s contagious and he shouldn’t be out of the room.

He’d feel more guilty about that if he hadn’t heard the doctors’ remarks that apparently everyone else on the planet either has a very mild reaction to this virus, like baby Joseph, or is immune from exposure in very early childhood. Of course, he knows he’s so sick because he’s bloody not from around here, just like measles and smallpox had decimated Native Americans when they were first exposed to those diseases. Not that the doctors listen to him, when he’s so obviously crazy.

He’s debated if he should leave, but with someone coming to keep him here, he’s got to go as soon as possible. He’ll warn the crew, of course, when he finds them. He’s quite certain TJ will arrange things so this disease won’t spread on Destiny. But he’ll make a mask out of something and swipe the hand sanitizer that’s readily available, when he does make his way out of here as a precaution.

He’s allowed to make phone contact with the group listed on the card Officer Wallace had given him. He doesn’t get to talk to one of them, but he does leave a lengthy message about his enslavement.

Then he takes a nap.

When he wakes up, Carmen is cleaning his room, and he gets a fucking brilliant idea.

* * *

Chapter 44: Groundwork

Everett waits impatiently in the gate room for the rings to engage and bring his guest and et al on board. A very important guest from Haven, not that this was in any way an official visit.

They are in a much better position to rescue Nick now that Eli and Destiny have infiltrated the hospital’s surveillance system without detection, as far as they know. Everett’s observed the interrogation earlier and the visit from the police officer, probably one of Eli’s descendants, apparently since they share the same last name.

At least Nick’s cleared of all charges now. They won’t have to fight the police to take him back.

He’s watched Nick sneak out of his room. He watched him being brought back and falling asleep. It’s obvious to him that Nick is still too sick to be pulling a jail break. They’ve still got him on IVs and oxygen, for crying out loud. Not that his physical condition will ever, ever stop Nick from doing what he thinks he needs to be doing.

Everett remembers Nick after his surgery to remove the Nakai tracker from his chest, the determined, pained way he’d walked into the Control Interface room defying TJ’s orders to stay in his quarters and rest. Everett had decided to wait until Nick fell off his stool to bring him back to the infirmary, figuring it would teach him a lesson, but through sheer force of will Nick stayed vertical and did his god damned job.

He loves that about Nick, even when it makes him a pain in the ass.

He’s really, really tired of just watching things unfolding without his being there to make them happen. He has a team ready to extract Nick but he knows it will trigger too much attention and there’s a very good chance he’ll be given orders to turn over Destiny to Haven’s officials. He wants to be so far away if those orders are given that it’ll be a moot point to comply.

He’s hoping, no he’s way beyond hoping this visitor will be the solution they need but if not, if this is some sort of attack by Haven’s government instead, then Greer has his men ready and Scott is watching, ready to deploy a sedative gas if needed

This is his last hope of getting Nick back quietly, sneak him out with Haven’s officials being none the wiser.

If this man won’t help, then he’s giving the word. The shuttle is ready to go, and he’ll be onboard, ready to ring down to the hospital grounds, march in and take Nick out. James, Greer, Becker, and TJ will be on the extraction team with him.

The distinctive sound of the rings engaging fills the room and four people appear within the large circle set into the floor.

All of them are tall, large people as is typical of the Haven population. Three are obviously bodyguards and he addresses the fourth person, a dark haired man, looking like he’s in his middle thirties. This is the man he’s hoping will agree to help them.

“I’m Colonel Everett Young, welcome to Destiny.”

The man looks him up and down, and his entire demeanor is suspicious. “Or not Destiny, but a cleverly made imitation. I’ve agreed to speak with you, sir, but let me make it clear that I haven’t decided upon the veracity of your story. I’m only here because I do believe the man who says he’s Nicholas Rush saved my son. What I don’t know is if he’s part of an elaborate hoax involving ‘Destiny’ or just a mentally ill young man who believes himself to be one of the most reviled men in our history.”

“And then there’s the truth.” Everett spreads one arm wide, indicating the ship. “This is Destiny. Dr. Rush is not delusional; he was kidnapped just as he described and we want him back. One way or the other, he’s coming home, but we’re asking you to help us do it quietly. Haven’s government wants to take over this ship, and keep us as prisoners on Haven, under the guise of ‘rescuing’ us. Some factions of our government would agree to that, in return for the innovations your society has developed and for the repository left to you by the aliens who first inhabited Haven.”

The man’s gaze sharpens, eyes boring into Everett’s. “And you intend to sneak away before you’re ordered to turn over this ship of the Ancients. Well, then, prove to me what you say is true. I’d like a tour, but I’ll say where to go. If this is a false Destiny for some inexplicable reason, I’ll have the truth of it. My name is David Scott, descendent of Matthew Scott and Chloe Armstrong. Let’s start by introducing me to them.”

Everett gives him a tight smile. “I’ll be happy to show you anything you want, Mr. Scott. And barring the parts of the ship that are open to space, you’re welcome to a tour. But we want to get Dr. Rush back as soon as possible, please keep that in mind.”

He motions for Chloe’s and Matthew Scott’s descendent to follow him. The bodyguards fall into place as he leads them from the gate room while radioing Scott and Chloe to meet him at the Bridge. Greer’s detail also escorts them as they travel the corridors, David Scott casting suspicious glances as they walk.

Chloe is there outside the Bridge, waiting for them. He makes the introductions, and she smiles at her double’s descendent. “I know this must seem very strange, and believe me, it is for us, too, but I’m so glad to meet you. I’ve been reading the history of Haven and it’s amazing to me that this society developed from a mishap with stargate travel.”

David Scott swallows and says, diffidently, “I’ve seen the ancient recordings of Mother Chloe. You do sound and look like her, but you don’t carry the Nakai markings she did. I don’t understand. According to our history texts, Mother Chloe had already been changed by the Nakai when Destiny’s crew came through Haven’s stargate.”

Chloe smiles at him, takes his hand. “The Nakai did alter my DNA. Haven’s doctors changed me back through use of a retro virus. But here.” She lays his hand on her arm. “Right here, can you feel the difference in my skin? It’s a little bit rougher, a little bit more raised. The treatment is still working, but I’m, like ninety-nine percent back to my self. And I kept my mathematical abilities.” She takes a deep breath, and slides her hand into his hand, this many times great grand child of her doppleganger. She tightens her grip so that she’s firmly holding onto him. “She was taken by the Nakai in the end, correct? She knew they were coming for her. It makes me so very sad, to think that her life probably ended among strangers, far from her home and her family, her children. I’m so grateful that her fate won’t be mine, that the Nakai won’t be able to find me now.”

“Mother Chloe,” he says, briefly bending down to kiss her hand.

Chloe looks up at him, her eyes huge and shining with tears. She swallows and the tears brim over and escape down her lovely face. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “I’m such a crier, ask anybody on board. Please, can you help us, please? Dr. Rush saved me, you know. He got me away from the Nakai and brought me back to Destiny. He freed us from the Lucian Alliance and if he hadn’t used the ninth chevron to send us to Destiny, we all would have died when Icarus exploded. He’s my friend, my mentor. He’s family to me. I want him to be at my wedding and stand next to me when Matt and I exchange our vows. I want him to be a godfather if we have any kids. . .” She smiles then and laughs through her tears. “I guess we probably will have babies since the other Chloe had so many children.” She looks at Everett, then and with a mischievous grin, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the palms of her hands, says, “Nick is great with Carmen, his and Colonel Young’s and TJ’s daughter. Matt and I are already planning on getting him to babysit for us when we have date night.”

David Scott turns towards Everett. “You trust Rush with your child?”

Everett’s eyes snap to the other man. “Of course I do. He’d lay down his life for Carmen. He loves her. And me. We’re partners, although I guess maybe that information didn’t make it to your history books. Why is he considered a demon, a devil? I’ve never gotten Haven’s government people to really explain that.” Everett crosses his arms over his chest and gives David Scott a challenging look. It had stopped being even a little bit amusing to him how Nick had been categorized as the pinnacle of evil when he realized how it might impact Nick getting any help on Haven.

David Scott purses his lips, obviously thinking. Everett tries to be patient, but really all he wants is to go down to that planet, grab Nick, and beat it the hell out of here. A caustic voice with a Scottish accent berates him in his mind. Aye, and when you bring me back, it’s fair likely that orders will be waiting for you to stay here at this station and then you’ll have to choose between obeying them or breaking with Homeworld Command. I’m a nobody at the moment to the Haven government, but they’ll surely figure out who I am when Colonel Everett Young himself, a man by now well known to Haven’s government, swoops in and takes out a patient who’s been claiming to be Doctor Nicholas Rush. Use your brain, Everett, and persuade this man to help. Don’t let the crew be trapped here because you want to be the hero.

David Scott says, with a small shrug, “To be fair, he’s also considered a savior by some of our religions. They believe he will come back with Destiny and take people to, well, take your pick. To heaven, or to help them ascend to a higher plane of existence, or back to Earth, which has become more of a mystical place than just our origin planet. The people of those religions are a minority on Haven, though. He’s considered, as you said, a demon, a devil to most people here. He doomed Destiny’s crew and forced them to go through the Stargate when they ended up on Haven. They say that it was his fault the crew was stranded on Destiny in the first place, and it’s said his gaze can flay the skin from your body.”

“Excuse me,” Matthew breaks in, having joined them in time to hear the conversation. “I’m Matthew Scott, and Dr. Rush did not strand us, although that’s what most people thought at first, but other top scientists proved to us that if he hadn’t dialed the ninth chevron we would have been incinerated. And the Dr. Rush who was on the Destiny that was destroyed by the star, he was against dialing while in the star. Doctor Rush from our timeline did the same.”

Matt steps over to Chloe, takes her hand. He says, “He told us and our doubles that it was too unpredictable to dial, that anyone who stepped through the gate might be thrown forward or backward in time or killed by the star. He was over ruled, and stayed on board, trying to keep the gate as stable as possible. He thought it would kill him, but he did it anyway. He died later, after he came to this Destiny, in a stupid kind of accident, but he was brave, he put himself on the line for his crew.”

Shrugging, Matt says, “The flaying people with his eyes, well. . . He doesn’t suffer fools or shoddy work, and he can glare at you for doing stupid shit and it’s not a comfortable experience, that’s for sure. He’s usually quiet and polite, unless he’s had like no sleep for days, and someone does something really idiotic, then he can let you have it. It’s pretty much deserved when that happens.”

“Is he dangerous, as the stories have said?” David Scott looks to the three of them. “The man I saw, it’s hard to see him the way the old stories describe Dr. Rush.”

“Yes,” Chloe and Matt say together and Everett nods his head, gives David Scott a serious look.

Remembering how Nick had outsmarted the people who had tortured him, Everett says, “To our enemies, he’s extremely dangerous. He’s protective. He killed most of the Lucian Alliance members who took over the ship.”

Everett opens the door to the Bridge, indicates for David Scott to step inside. “He killed one of the Nakai who took him prisoner. He’s tough, and smart and brave, and sometimes he’s so god damn reckless it makes you want to tie him up for his own good. He got your son to safety and to those of us who know him, we’re not surprised he got the better of those men who took him. He’s a good man! Now it’s our turn to get him to safety. Are you going to help us?”

David Scott gazes around the Bridge, amazement on his face. Then he turns to Everett, Chloe, and Matt. “Yes,” he says. “I’ve already started. Regardless of whether or not he was delusional or telling the truth, it was clear to me when I saw the video recording from his truth session that he saved my little boy and took good care of him.”

He touches the railing of the Bridge almost reverently, stares at the large windows, the monitors. He then turns to Everett. “It was also obvious to me that what happened to him on board that ship was not consensual sex at all. He didn’t want to be a prostitute, he was adamant about that. I’ve had my lawyers looking into it to see if his contract could be nullified. Before I came on board Destiny, they contacted me. It wasn’t very feasible, they said, not without a long court battle and his owners would be able to sell his service to clients all that time. Plus, I had concerns about him. So, I authorized a different plan.” His expression looks wry and like he’s just tasted something that tastes foul.

“I’m in the process of buying his contract. Conservatorship would transfer to me. In effect, he’d become my private sex slave.”

* * *

“Eli, report,” Everett says, as soon as he’s through the door to where Eli’s set up his command center. The monitors show Nick’s room, and the corridor outside of it, the nurse’s station and the exits.

Everett’s radio had gone off right after David Scott had so casually told them that his plan was to buy Nick’s contract, make him legally his responsibility and personal prostitute.

Oh, he had quickly assured them that Nick wouldn’t be forced into anything. He’d planned, before hearing from Everett, to give Nick some kind of menial job on one of his estates, something an illiterate, small man could do, something like light janitorial work. He’d have the mental health doctors treat him for his delusions; Nick would be safe and cared for in gratitude for rescuing his son.

“And then you would free him from his contract?” Chloe had asked, but David Scott had hesitated for a long moment before answering her.

“Ah, no. I hadn’t planned on it. It seemed to me that from his records – and I know now that they’re false – that he’d just slide back into selling himself and living on the street again. My wife and I would have been his legal guardians and we’d decided he wasn’t capable of really taking good care of himself. So, we’d keep him. But we wouldn’t force him to provide any entertainment for us or our household or guests.”

Everett hadn’t liked the sound of that. It sounded benevolent, but denied Nick his freedom. He’d said, “You wouldn’t have kept him for long.”

David Scott had shook his head. “I would have authorized him to be tagged for retrieval, if
he did manage to leave the premises. Plus,” he’d looked at the three of them, then shrugged. “There are humane ways to ensure someone in his position stays where they belong. I wouldn’t have authorized it if I didn’t feel it was a better option for him than trying to live on his own. But all of this is moot since he’s actually Dr. Rush. I will simply transfer ownership to you, Colonel Young.”

Everett had felt his stomach roil. “I’m not going to be his god damned owner. How can you even--”

Nick’s would be savior had interrupted. “I insist, if you want my help. If he’s not legally transferred to your custody, then I leave myself open to charges of neglect as his conservator that I’m sure will be levied at me by the government in their fury when Destiny and Dr. Rush slips their grasp. This way I’m protected, and so is my family. It’s not possible to do this any other way within the short time frame you have, because going to court to challenge the need for conservatorship takes months that you don’t have.”

Everett remembered then that this man belonged to a business empire built on the sale of addictive drugs. He has to know the danger of them but that doesn’t stop him from selling them. It indicates a ruthlessness, a willingness to allow his hands to remain blood covered with the deaths of those trapped in addiction.

He could change his mind and just keep Nick. Well, unless the government figures out who Nicandria Rushman really is and swoops in to bag him. This is no time for any delays. They’ll hold their noses if it takes owning Nick to get him back on board.

He’d struggled with not just growling at the man, but they desperately need his help. “Okay, I see your point. I’m going to get Camile Wray to come down and you two can draft the change of conservatorship papers over to me. Any idea when your offer to buy Nick’s contract will be finalized?”

David Scott had touched a button on his watch and holograms appear in the air in front of him, looking solid. He shifts through them and slows down to read several. “Soon, it looks like. They’ve agreed to sell him to me and once the money is transferred and paperwork filed – that’s probably what will take the longest – then he’s mine and I can walk out of the hospital with him, since they’re going to send a copy of the change of conservatorship to the hospital’s legal department. I’ll also have a copy with me in case of being stopped by anyone who challenges my lawful conservatorship.”

He’d patted Chloe on the arm. “We’ll have your friend and future babysitter back on board in no time.”

The radio had interrupted them, with Eli’s terse request for Everett to join him immediately. He’d made arrangements for the tour to continue while they waited for the legal changes to complete and he’d headed to the conference room Eli had commandeered.

Eli looks up from the monitor he’s studying. “I watched all of that on a kino. God, this civilization might be more ‘advanced’ than us, but the more I hear about it, the more I think it sucks. This guy might be helping us out, but he was going to make Doc into, like, an indentured servant. Humane ways to keep him on the premises? Like having a dog wear an electric shock collar is what I bet he means.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan. That’s not why you asked me to come down here. What’s going on?”

“Does Doc take like, really, really long showers?” Eli’s expression shifts to something more pointed, his body language more assertive. Eli’s double became a hell of a teacher on Haven, and Everett sees something of that in Eli right now. “And, um, I’m not judging what two consenting adults want to get up to, but I reeeally didn’t need to hear that you want to tie Doc up.”

“Eli,” he growls, feeling disgusted with himself. Christ. Had he really said he sometimes wanted to restrain Nick? “Focus. Why the question about showers?”

Eli nods to the monitor that shows Nick’s hospital room. “Well, does he like to take really long showers?”

“No. Usually he’s in a hurry to get out and get to work. But, um,” his voice softens as he gives Eli a considering look. Eli cares about Nick, and he’d bet his last pair of holey socks that he’d brought up Everett’s careless remark about wanting to tie up Nick sometimes – before he got himself in serious trouble again, such as sitting in the god damned chair – as an admonishment to watch his words. Kiva had ordered Nick restrained and raped and tortured. Even now, months and months after her death, he can still see Nick on that horrible table, feel the tears that had soaked his jacket when he’d carried Nick away from that hell.

Eli’s a good kid. They’re damn lucky to have him on this ship.

“Eli, this stays private. Nick’s been known to take really long showers sometimes, after he’s been abused or something has triggered that kind of trauma again. Why? How long has he been in there?” Maybe he’s fainted, or slipped and hit his head, Everett thinks. Surely a nurse is due to check on him.

“Oh,” Eli says. “Yeah, he’s certainly been through it again with those assholes who took him. Or maybe he’s just relaxing since he can’t go anywhere. I can’t see into the bathroom and I can’t hear anything except for the shower running. But, he’s been in there at least fifty minutes. I guess I just don’t see him taking a long shower there when he’s naked and vulnerable and anybody could walk in on him. That hospital isn’t exactly a safe place, considering what that cop did when he was interrogating him.” Eli frowns and says, “I have a very bad feeling about this.”

Everett gives in and rolls his eyes. “Okay, Luke Skywalker, I hear you. Go back in the footage to where you last saw Nick. And, I would never say what I said about tying him up to Nick. I’m not that big of an asshole. But, thanks for looking out for him.”

Eli nods, a small smile on his tired face.

They both watch as Nick wakes up and slides out of bed, opens a drawer in the bedside table and walks over to where a woman is wiping down surfaces, her cleaning cart parked right next to the bathroom. He chitchats with her, then asks if she would mind bringing clean towels so he can shower. Apparently, the used ones weren’t replaced yet. She agrees and Nick tells her to just put them on the chair next to the bathroom and wishes her a good evening. She’s going off shift after she’s cleaned his room, she tells him while chatting together.

The cleaning woman, Carmen – and Everett smiles when he hears that his daughter’s name is remembered thousands of years later – calls for Nick to get some rest after his shower and leaves.

Nick goes into the bathroom but leaves the door open. Odd. It stays open for about two minutes, they hear the shower start and then the door slowly closes.

Carmen comes into the room and lays towels on a chair next to the bathroom door, and pushes the cart out of the room.

The shower keeps running.

“Go back to right before the door shuts,” Everett says. “I thought I saw something.”

Eli obliges and they watch as again the door shuts.

“Slow it down, Eli. And zoom in on the bathroom door handle.”

Eli freezes the screen, and murmurs, “Holy Crap.”

From an angle that can only be coming from next to the cart, a hand closes on the door knob.

“He was crouched down and then hid in the cart,” Everett says. “He’s been out of that room for forty-five minutes and nobody’s noticed yet. God damn. The cart blocked the nurses from seeing what he did. He could be out of the hospital by now. Eli, check the recordings of the exits and see if you can track where the hell that cart ended up. The woman said she was done for the day, maybe she took it to a janitorial room.”

“On it, Colonel,” Eli says, his fingers flying on the keyboard.

Everett opens a channel to Scott. “Get your great grand kid back to the gate room, tell him I’m meeting him there. Notify the extraction team to report there as well; we’re ringing to David Scott’s ship ready to ring down to the planet. Nick’s done a runner and we need to be at that hospital an hour ago. Move, Lieutenant.”

He starts a fast jog to the gate room. Nick had no way of knowing his freedom was maybe less than an hour away. So he did what he’s so good at. He made a work around. Goddammit, genius, you never make anything easy, do you?

* * *

Chapter 45: Running Towards Home

Rush walks rapidly towards another hospital exit crossing his fingers that he’ll have better luck this time. The two other employee exits he’s tried wouldn’t open for him. He’d assumed that he’d need a badge to open the doors and he’d gotten his hands on two of them but there’s no place to swipe them near these exits, and he’s held them up by the door with no results. The damn doors stayed locked. He’d thought that perhaps exit doors were assigned to to certain employees, which was why he was trying this again.

He’s tiring from all the walking and his chest feels tight. His head is pounding, he’s panting, and his heart is beating too fast.

Stopping and resting is out of the question. He’s actually surprised that he’s not heard any alarms or overhead pages announcing that he’s absconded and needs to be found.

It had been a slow journey with him hidden in Carmen’s cleaning cart. She must have a hundred good mates in this hospital and she stopped to chat a wee bit with all of them before finally, finally pushing the cart into a janitorial area. She’d started to unload cleaning supplies and he’d been afraid he was going to be discovered any minute if, no when she opened up the bottom of the cleaning cart. Then her name had been called. Another friend of hers had wanted her attention and he’d heard her go round to another room. That was his chance to get out of the cart, and he did so promptly, looking for somewhere to hide. He also slung several bags of trash from a large bin back into the cart to cover up the fact he’d taken the bags out to make room for himself inside the cart.

Of course, when someone finally checked on why he was still in the bathroom, they’d see the bags sitting there in the shower, water spraying over them. At least he’d hadn’t had to throw himself on Carmen’s mercy, making her have to choose between helping him escape or reporting him. If her employers doubted her, taking a truth test would clear her and keep her from being fired, he hoped.

He’d left that area where trash was gathered and his luck held long enough for him to find a lost and found area in an adjoining room. He’d rummaged in the bin and found what he guessed was a young girl’s clothing inside of a silvery backpack with cartoon type figures. He’d grabbed it and changed behind some shelving. He’d debated turning the silly looking glittery short sleeved T-shirt inside out but decided against it for now. They’d be looking for a short adult man, not a wee girl. The stretchy dark blue trousers fit well enough, if a little long. There were no shoes, alas. He hoped the length of the trousers would hide that he was only wearing socks. He had found a type of cap decorated with glitter and sequins. Maybe it belonged to the same child the clothes did, and yes, he’s never had any sense of fashion, much to Gloria’s amusement, but even he can see that the shirt and hat complement each other. His hair is long enough that it sticks out from under the cap, and he’d pulled some of it forward, to help shield his face.

The backpack would be useful, and he’d scanned the lost and found room for anything else he needed. He’d stowed away hand sanitizer and a handful of face masks. He’d donned a mask, hoping it would make it harder to identify him as an adult patient. A casual glance at him would just see a child, maybe one with a disease that required wearing a mask for health reasons. This is a hospital, after all. It can’t be unusual to see people wearing a mask.

More likely he’ll be stopped and asked where his parents are, why he’s by himself. A closer look at him will end the charade, so it’s best that he get away as soon as possible. He heard someone entering the room in time to hide until they left, grateful that his luck was holding.

He’d cautiously opened the door and seeing no one in the corridor, left quickly. The area he’d been in was an employee only part of the hospital; he’d spotted a men’s employee locker room, had opened the door and spying no one inside had darted into the area. There were rows of lockers, toilets, benches, hooks on the walls. Quickly he’d started checking lockers. Most had been locked but several yielded him badges that he shoved in his trouser pockets. He’d gone back out into the corridor and had begun trying various exit doors.

He spots another exit, concentrating on what he must do now and away from what happened earlier, and tries the door. Again, it refuses to open, doesn’t accept the badge he waves at the door and presses against the metal plate. He narrows his eyes, thinking. It must be either a facial recognition technology or bio-recognition system they’re using, or perhaps both. No matter. He can’t get out these doors, he’ll have to chance the public exits with their security people and hope for the best. He walks towards a cross corridor, retracing his route mentally to where signs had pointed to the public areas.

And that is where his luck runs out because two men turn into the hallway and there’s nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.

He keeps his head down, practically hugging the wall opposite from where the men are striding towards the exit. They pass by him, and he’s holding his breath, praying to the universe that they’ll not wonder what he’s doing down here, in an area off limits to any but employees.

The universe, not giving a bloody crap about his predicament, fails to give him any help.

One of the men says, “What?” and turns around, striding over and blocking Rush’s way.

“Are you lost, sweetheart?” he says kindly. He’s tall and broad, with dark curly hair, dressed in hospital scrubs, his badge clipped to his shirt.

Fuck Rush thinks, stalling, looking at the floor like he’s shy or some such shite. Running through his options he decides it’s better to pretend to be lost than he was down here on purpose exploring or getting into trouble. A child down here on purpose is a trouble making child who needs to be monitored more closely than a lost waif. This he’d learned the hard way back when he was a wee lad.

He nods his head, still keeping his eyes down, trying to act like a child who was innocently lost.

The man takes his hand, tells the other one, “I’ll just take this little one back to-- where did you come from sweetie, the Emergency Room? Your mother is there?”

He nods again, feeling his heart drum against his chest walls like a wild thing trying to break free.

A hand covers his forehead. “She’s got a fever,” the man tells his coworker. He looks at Rush’s bare arm, sees the marks where the IV had been. “Looks like she’s been treated already, and she’s wearing one of the hospital masks. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Fuck a hundreds time over, he thinks. Slowly he points to this throat and shakes his head.

“Ah, you’ve got a sore throat. Hurts to talk, I bet. Poor little girl.” He turns back to his friend. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ronnie. I’ll take her back to her mother, or security if her mom’s not in the ER waiting room. Want to go out tomorrow night to play poolside?”

There’s a brief conversation between the two men about their plans for challenging some coworkers at what sounds like a bar tomorrow, then the other man walks to the door, stands there quietly for fifteen seconds before the door opens on its own. So, it was facial recognition, since he didn’t touch anything. Rush debates making a run for the open door, but gives up the idea. The two of them would catch him, he’s quite sure, and then his deception would be uncovered.

With his hand clasped firmly by his helper’s much larger one, he’s taken to an employee only elevator, according to the sign, activated by the man’s badge.

The man doesn’t press him to talk, and he keeps his eyes down, the cap’s long brim protecting him from further scrutiny. A few minutes later they exit, the man guiding him down several corridors until they push through a door and they’re back into the public area, with people of all sorts sitting in a large lobby, the registration desk at one end of the room and the doors to the outside at the other.

“Do you see your mother, honey?”

He desperately looks around and maybe the universe has decided to give him a break, because he sees a woman with several children she’s shepherding towards the exit, and he points at her and tries to tug his hand free.

The man turns him loose and he walks very fast to her, stands close to a little boy who looks at him curiously. The woman has a baby in her arms and she looks distracted, ushering her brood out the door.

Rush just walks out with them, daring to hope that that this has worked. He veers off from them as soon as he judges he’s out of sight of anyone watching from inside the ER.

He remembers that this planet’s underground train system has a station near here. He hadn’t bothered to look at the stargate remote yet, not wanting to do anything that might attract Carmen’s attention while he was inside her cart, and he’s been too busy getting the hell out of the hospital to check it till now. He ducks between two buildings, still part of the hospital campus by the signs, and pulls it out of his backpack.

He feels like ten tons of weight has been lifted off him when he reads the symbols for Destiny’s gate. They’re here. Everett, the crew, Carmen and TJ. His family is looking for him, just like he knew they would.

He puts the remote back inside the backpack and ignores his blighted breathing and the black spots that occasionally dance before his eyes as he keeps moving away from the hospital, following the helpful signs for that bloody wonderful underground train.

* * *

The ride to the stargate terminal seems to take forever, with him feeling shakier and shakier as the underground train stops to let passengers off and new ones embark. He keeps telling himself that he only has to keep himself on his feet till he steps through the stargate and back onto Destiny.

He’d follow every one of TJ’s orders. He’d take his medicine and wouldn’t try to sneak out of the infirmary and go back to work. He’d keep reminding himself to tell them he was contagious, to not let them touch him or get too close. Taking the sanitizing gel out of the backpack, he used it, then slipped it into his trouser pocket. He’d slather himself with the stuff after stepping through the gate.

He wants to look at Everett, see the love in those big beautiful brown eyes, longs to feel his lover’s arms squeezing him tight, making him feel safe. Everett will stand between him and any who would hurt him. He would turn around and do the same, if ever Everett was in trouble.

When he got back Everett would mock scold him, tell him he was a lot of work and he was not setting foot on another planet unless Everett was there beside him. Everett would say all that rubbish while hugging the stuffing out of him

He’d no object to that.

He’s so very tired now. It’s hard to keep his eyes open, and he stands up to lessen the temptation. Doesn’t really help, though. He falls asleep standing up, only waking as he starts to fall forward. His breathing is no very good, those pesky black spots in front of his eyes keeping plaguing him. He’d gladly sleep for a week, and he imagines how the Science Team would be astounded if he did.

Wait. He had done something like that, hadn’t he? After sitting in the chair so he could be with Mandy and it going so wrong. He’d slept and slept, occasionally waking up long enough to relieve himself and eat. Eli had been so cross with him, his anger and exasperation drenched with concern. The rest of the team made sure he knew how idiotic his actions had been, and how much they’d worried over him.

They are worried about him right now. He knows that as well as he knows his own name. His team, his colleagues, his friends. His family. Everett.

He’d tried his damnedest not to become close to anybody, not after losing Gloria. He’d rolled himself into a protective shell of projected arrogance and aloofness. Only Mandy had drawn him out before they’d come to Destiny. But living and working with the crew, aye, and fighting with some of them, too, all that had pushed him back out of that shell of his, and he’d found himself becoming very fond of Eli, and then Chloe, and Everett.

My God, Everett. Such a whirl of emotions he’d always felt for him. That unwilling attraction that he’d tried so hard to kill with disdain. Frustration at the leash the man had yoked him to, not letting him explore the ship as he pleased, keeping him away from the chair. The odd intimacy after their fight on the planet, Everett holding him so close, breathing each other’s air, the anger, the look of betrayal in Everett’s eyes, then him holding out an olive branch which of course, Rush had stomped on. “We’ll never be done,” he’d told Everett. Well, Colonel Young. He’d not become Everett to him yet. He’d pushed past the boundary of Colonel Young’s tolerance and for his sins he’d been punished, left unconscious and abandoned, and still he’d been right. They hadn’t been done, they’d never be done, and he’s holding onto that truth with all that he is.

When he gets back to the ship he’s going to ask Everett to marry him. He’d even let Chloe and Eli and Camile and Lisa plan the whole thing. Aye, that was a pure dead brilliant idea. Then all he and Everett would have to do would be to show up, exchange vows, and let the crew throw them a party that hopefully he and Everett could sneak away from as soon as possible for their own private celebration.

Glancing up at the changing sign, he sees that this is his stop. This was where he’d exited the stargate, hiding the baby under that huge sweat shirt, stumbling his way to the hospital and help. He’s glad the baby was back with his parents, but he’s going to miss the wee bugger.

Unsteadily, and ignoring the suddenly concerned look a motherly woman gives him, he moves to the train door.

“Honey, do you feel all right? Where’s your mother or father?” The woman touches his elbow, supporting it.

Bollocks, he isn’t going to be held up now.

Just another minute, just a wee minute.

“Do your parents allow you to ride all by yourself?”

He nods and the woman makes a sound that casts doubt on the sanity of his alleged parents. But really, when he had been nine or eight, he’d ridden the buses and subway in Glasgow. He remembers glaring and being rude to people who’d questioned him about it. He hadn’t realized back then that probably they were just concerned.

He keeps his eyes down, still playing the shy child card, and reaches over to pat the woman’s hand, then slides her fingers off his elbow.

The train comes to a stop, the door opens and he wiggles away from his concerned watcher as she belatedly tries to reach for him again. He pushes himself to dart through the crowd, for a change his smaller stature working for him.

He’s panting, the push to get away from the train station and into the stargate terminal robbing him of his breath. He passes the small shops and cafes and heads down the corridor he remembers towards the stargate.

When he’d come through before, he’d disrupted the orderly exits and entrances of the travelers. He’s under no illusion that he’d be able to just get into line. While it’s one thing for a child to ride the subway alone, he sincerely doubts that anyone would let him go through the gate or let him dial Destiny with his remote.

No, he’s going to have to do this on the sly. He watches for a bit, leaning against a wall close to where the lines form to go to other stargates. Once he’s got the sense of how things are flowing, he moves closer, marking where he will duck under ropes to be able to throw himself through the stargate.

This is it. This is the final step towards freedom. He fiercely orders his body to ignore the black spots dancing when he moves too quickly, to not stumble, to not cough or faint. They’ll be time for all of that after his feet are planted back on Destiny.

After getting into position, he pulls the stargate remote from his pocket, using the backpack to hide it from sight. The gate discharges returning travelers and the wormhole goes blank. Before the next destination begins lighting up the Ancient symbols, he dials Destiny’s gate.

There are sounds of confusion from the uniformed people directing the stream of travelers. He tenses, waiting for his moment. As the second to last symbol lights up, he makes his move.

He runs into the line, ducking under ropes, elbowing stomachs and dodging hands. People are yelling at him as he scrambles over a safety gate. He bursts into the staging area in front of the stargate as the last symbol is locking into place. He runs parallel to where the wormhole will billow out and his heart is pounding and he’s so close to being free of this bloody planet and giving a last fuck you to those right bastards who’d bought him from his slavers. He’ll not be their compliant prostitute, his memories altered to believe Destiny and his identity just a delusion he no longer believes in.

The blue whoosh settles into that brilliant incandescent puddle that has fascinated him since the first time he saw one. He alters his steps, at a dead run on the ramp now for his freedom.

Five feet away from the stargate, it goes blank, the blue disappearing, the connection broken.

He can’t stop himself and he enters the empty stargate at a dead run, and shoots off the end of the high platform, arms windmilling, trying to regain his balance. It’s all a confusing tumble until his head bangs on something so hard he sees stars.

Stars and black spots. Fuck, he thinks. Destiny. Everett. . .

* * *

He comes back to consciousness slowly, going in and out before he’s truly with it. He doesn’t stir, keeps his eyes shut because he hears people arguing in the room with him.

“Where’s that memo the Office of Interplanetary Security sent, what one, two weeks ago?” The voice he hears is deep, gravelly.

“The one where we were instructed to lock out that gate address if it was dialed?” Another man’s voice, one with a drawl.

“Yes, Shawn, that one. I’m sure it said something about what to do with whoever dialed it. It’s not in the memo folder.”

“Hey, I was off that day. I just heard about it from Peters. He said he put in the programming to shut the gate down automatically and honestly, he thought it was a pain in the ass. He said that there aren’t any gates with that address, so why bother? Guess he was wrong about that.” Rush can hear the shrug in this Shawn’s voice. “You should check with him what he did with it, boss. Or did you save your comm mail?”

“No. I cleared all of that out this week. What about yours? Did you save it?”

“Nah. Didn’t seem that relevant and since it was supposed to go in the memo folder. . .”

The first speaker, the supervisor, sighs. “Peters is on vacation and told me he was turning his telleyphone off. I’ll put in a request to the tech department to retrieve that memo. I’m not calling Interplanetary Security and admit we were dumbasses who lost the memo. This little guy can just stay here.”

“Shouldn’t he go to the hospital? That’s what the medic recommended.” Shawn sounds dubious to Rush.

“He’s not critical, or anything,” says the supervisor. “The medic said he didn’t have a concussion, after he scanned him. No broken bones, he’ll just have some spectacular bruises. He’s got some kind of bug, fever and recovering from pneumonia, but the medic put him on oxygen and said he’d stop back in a bit and check on him. I’m not sending him anywhere until I know what those instructions said.” The supervisor snorts. “Why do these things happen on my shifts?”

“That device he had. It’s a remote dialer and I’ve never seen anything like it. I wonder where he got it from.”

“Well, quit fooling with it, Shawn, and put it in the safe. For all we know, it could shut down the gate entirely and then there’d be hellfire raining down on our heads.”

“Kay, boss.”

“He’ll be all right in here. Security handcuffed him to the cot. We need to get back out to work and get the gate back on schedule.”

Rush hears them leave. Once the door closes, he opens his eyes and confirms by tugging on his arm and leg that yes indeed, he’s handcuffed to this cot. He leans down and sighs. The cot is welded to the floor. He’s apparently in some sort of first aid station.

He’s no longer seeing those annoying spots and his breathing is easier with the oxygen cannula. He feels like someone beat him with a stick. He does know what that feels like, thanks to Kiva.

He feels defeated. He was so close to freedom, and now he doesn’t know what will happen to him.

Angry tears flood his eyes and with his free hand he wipes them away. Tears won’t help anything.

But. . . Destiny is here. They are looking for him and he knows Eli. He knows Eli and he knows Destiny’s abilities. He has to have faith in them and in Everett. They’ll turn over every rock to find him.

He’s still so tired and the adrenaline drop has only added to his exhaustion. He feels himself falling back asleep and while he tries to fight it, after a bit his eyes close and he can’t be arsed to reopen them.

* * *

He’s shaken awake and groggily opens his eyes. Still in the first aid station. Still handcuffed to the cot. Still feeling like shite.

A man in a uniform is leaning over him, with red unruly hair. “Wake up, Nicandria Rushman. Yeah, we found out who you are. The hospital you were at sent out an alert you’d left AMA.”

It’s the supervisor, his deep voice unmistakable. He glares at Rush. “You’ve been claimed and you can expect a fine for disrupting stargate travel. Second time for you, and the fine’s been doubled. Anyway, you’re not my problem anymore.” The supervisor leans down and unlocks the cuff chaining his ankle and wrist to the cot. “Sit up. Don’t even think about trying to run away. There’s guys out there that are three times your size. The paperwork is done, you’re free to go with them. Stay out of my terminal in the future if you can’t behave, brat.”

The supervisor leaves him sitting there on the cot. Who is out there taking custody of him? The hospital? The prostitution house that he was sold to? That missing memo the two men talked about, had they found it and made a call? It sounded like the government was aware of Destiny being here, since they had the stargate address. Was someone from the government looking for him, for Dr. Nicholas Rush? Was that a good thing or a bad thing, if true? Why shut down the address unless they wanted to control who had access to Destiny. Could they be helping Destiny look for him? This society fears the mythological Dr. Rush. If they were looking for him, perhaps it wasn’t a good thing. Maybe the government isn’t to be trusted. Maybe they’d taken control of his ship. Maybe the crew was imprisoned.

No, he refuses to believe that. He trusts Everett to be wary and to keep their ship out of anybody else’s hands.

Who ever is in the next room can’t be anyone from Destiny. There’s no one on board that’s three times his size. Becker is the only one who even came close and even he would be considered on the short side on this planet.

The door opens and he sits up straighter. He will never stop resisting, if it’s anyone who’s going to curtail his freedom. Come on then, you bastards, show me what ye got.

* * *

Chapter 46: Wilt ever come, love, to comfort me?

The view of the planet from their high orbit is breathtaking, blues and greens and browns all with white wisps swirling above the oceans and continents. David Scott’s space yacht is sleek and beautiful, with tech he can’t even guess at, but all Everett can think about is Nick being out of their sight again, sick and in pain, and in so much danger.

He hears footsteps and turns, taking in TJ’s approach. She’s ready with everything they need to safely transport Nick back to Destiny. Isolation suits that Destiny had fabricated, a collapsible gurney, portable oxygen, all waiting on this yacht, ready for when Nick is found again, and brought on board, and then ringed over to Destiny.

“Everett. You’re doing the right thing.” TJ takes his hand and grips it tightly, forcing his thoughts away from the merry-go-round of worry and dread for Nick. It’s a fucking terrible ride he can’t get off, to scream out his frustrations or drink himself comatose so he doesn’t have to think anymore, because he’s got his damn job to do.

He thought he’d been hiding his turmoil, but not well enough from TJ. His friend, his ex-lover, mother of his daughter and she’s always been able to see through him.

He looks at her tired, kind blue eyes and brings her hand up to his lips and kisses her knuckles. His team is here, on David Scott’s ship, ready to ring down to assist with recovering Nick. And that’s his problem. He’s here. He’s not down on that planet, taking point in the mission. Instead, he’s making the logical command decision to take a back seat, so that attention isn’t being drawn to him and his team that might trigger a cascade of unwanted reactions.

Like Nick’s claims of being the Doctor Nicholas Rush from their long past history being taken seriously. The only reason the planet’s authorities haven’t already been notified is that nobody believes Nick. They think him mentally ill, delusional. If Everett and his team ring down to the hospital to search for Nick, looking exactly like the portraits and statues of this society’s ancestors, that protection will go up in smoke. If Nick’s found, David Scott’s papers stating he’s Nick’s conservator will be useless. Nick will be in government custody.

If Nick gets taken by Haven’s government, then that will be the trigger for trying to trick Destiny’s crew into leaving the ship, with the IOA’s blessing. When that plan fails, they’ll try to attack and if they take the ship, the crew will be stranded here and Nick will be taken onboard with Haven’s crew.

He would never see Nick again. The thought of it makes his chest hurt.

TJ squeezes his hand once more and he smiles wryly at her. “I know. Staying here unless it all goes to hell is the right thing to do,” he says. “But I don’t like it.”

“Command decisions aren’t always the ones you want to make, Everett. You’ve grown in that regard since our first days on Destiny.” TJ lets go of him. “Sir.”

That ‘sir’ was TJ’s way of telling him that she had changed from one role, of being his close friend, to being his officer.

He squints at her, lets a tiny grin form on his face. “You’re thinking of the ice planet incident with Matthew, again, aren’t you?”

“Yes sir, I am. There was no reason for you to be out there risking your life when we needed you to command the ship. Dr. Rush agreed with me. You pushed it too far, sir.” TJ lowered her voice. “You were being reckless, and I really was starting to think you were maybe having some suicidal feelings. Like tempting the universe to kill you, if you gave it a fair chance.”

Everett lets out a slow sigh. “I wasn’t in the best place, I know. I don’t think I was consciously thinking of inviting myself to die. But I was being self destructive. My drinking really showcased that. But I’m good these days, I’m happy with Nick and being Destiny’s captain. I’m grateful to you and the others that made me see that what I had on board was worthwhile and didn’t give up on me.”

“We’ve got your six, sir. Always.” TJ smiles at him. “Nicholas seemed pretty worried about you on that ice planet. Especially when the time grew short and Matt’s suit developed a leak and you wouldn’t leave him.”

Shaking his head at his past idiot self, he says, “I snapped at Nick for that. Christ, I told him he was only worried about losing that last load of ice. I wonder, was that his professional opinion back then that I should stay on board or was he maybe having some feelings for me that he just didn’t want to admit to.”

“We’ll get him back and you can ask him about it.” Her smile morphs into a mischievous grin. “I wouldn’t mind being a fly on the wall to watch him splutter and turn red.”

“I’m going to ask him to marry me when we get him back,” Everett says, surprising himself. Yes, he’s been thinking about it for a while, but to just let that slip out to TJ?

Her smile lights up her eyes. “I’d be honored to officiate the ceremony, Everett, if the both of you would like me to take your vows.”

“He might say no.” Marrying again would be a big step for both of them. He knew he was ready, had finally gained closure about Emily, but their marriage had been in trouble for a long time before they finally divorced. Nick, though, he’d lost Gloria to death, and he’d grieved for her so hard, not that he or anyone else besides maybe Jackson and Amanda Perry had noticed. Maybe Nick wasn’t ready to officially link lives with him.

TJ is giving him one of her mind reading looks. “He’s not going to say no, Everett. He loves you, it’s written all over his face when he’s with you.” She laughs a little. “I bet that he doesn’t want much to do with planning a ceremony, though.”

“Not taking that bet, TJ.”

“Carmen’s a little young to be a flower girl, but maybe with some help she could do the job. Can’t you just see her being coaxed to go to Nick and you with the rings?” Her eyes are dancing. “I bet Lisa or Chloe would love to make her a fancy little dress.”

“As long as she doesn’t try to eat those rings,” he says, just picturing the way his daughter wants to stuff everything she gets her hands on into her mouth.

“We’ll put them in a box she can’t open. I think she’d untie them if they were fastened to a little pillow. She’s really been fixated on untying things lately. She took out the laces of my boots yesterday.”

He smiles at TJ, appreciating her attempts to distract him from the almost crippling fear for Nick that is consuming him. He really does have the best people, the best crew, supporting him.

His communication device beeps and Eli’s voice breaks into their conversation. “Hello, hello. Ah, this is umm, Luke Skywalker. Please respond if you understand that reference.”

David’s Scott’s security team had given one of their fancy radios to Eli before Everett and his team and their visitors had ringed to David Scott’s ship. Their range was far, far superior to anything Destiny had, and Eli was to keep them updated on Destiny’s search for Nick. So far he hadn’t been located in the hospital. David Scott and his team are in their ship’s ring room, just waiting for some direction on where to look and for the last bit of the paperwork making David Scott Nick’s conservator to complete.

Everett rolls his eyes as he responds. “I’m not going to be talking in Starwars code, Eli. It’s a little late to be doubting our hosts now, so report.” They’d been told these were secure lines; if they were lying to them, then insecure communications were the least of their problems.

“Oh-kay,” Eli says, sounding brisk and confident. “So, the hospital just realized Doc is missing, and they’ve shut doors and are having their staff search for him. They’re reviewing the security tapes. I tracked the cart leaving his hospital room and it ended up in a cleaning storage room. There weren’t cameras in that area, but a kid came out of there, looks like a little girl from the way she was dressed. She’s Doc’s height, though, and what I could see of her hair looked like his did. She was wearing a hat and a mask, kept her eyes down. I think that was Doc, though.”

“You’re sure? We don’t need to go off on wild goose chases after some kid.”

Eli snorts. “I’m sure. I tracked her, and she, or rather Doc, kept trying doors to get out of the hospital. Then some guys in scrubs found her and one of them took her back to the ER waiting room. She left with a mom and about five other kids. I mean, he left. I’m ninety-nine percent sure Rush has left the hospital, so I’m having Destiny check the public camera systems. I think I know where he’s going.”

“The stargate.” It was a no brainer that Rush, especially if he had the remote dialer with him still, would try to exit the planet from there. If he had the remote, he must know that Destiny was in the area. He could dial directly to the ship. God damn, Rush has a good chance of making it back on his own.

“Bingo. I’m in the process of hacking into the stargate terminal cameras, Colonel.” Eli’s trying hard to control his excitement, but it’s a losing battle. Stoic, Eli Wallace was not. “He might just pull this off. We’re all rooting for him, the entire team.”

“Me too. Keep me apprised, I’ll let the retrieval team know to go directly to the stargate, for back up.”

“Roger that, over and out.” Eli cuts the transmission and Everett glances at TJ, who is holding a hand up to her mouth. Her eyes look hopeful.

“Let’s go and let David Scott and his guys know what’s happening. Rush could try and dial in to Destiny any time now.”

* * *

“Colonel,” David Scott says as Everett enters where the retrieval teams are kicking their heels, waiting for the call to action. “I’ve got it. My conservatorship papers are filed now. We should ring down to the hospital and turn the paperwork over to their administrators. Has your Eli Wallace located Dr. Rush yet?”

Everett says, “Not yet, but he’s pretty sure Nick left the hospital disguised as a kid. We think he’ll head for the stargate.”

David Scott’s sharp eyes catch his. “Ah. He’s as resourceful as the legends say, then. I’ll send some of my people down to the hospital, in case Eli is wrong or Dr. Rush is caught and brought back. I’ll take the rest and ring down to the Planetary Terminal. Besides the stargate, they have a ring system, too. I’ll contact them and get into the que.” David Scott hesitates, then reaches into his pocket and retrieves something the size of a wallet. “Here,” he says and walks over to Everett and holds it out.

Everett cocks his eyebrows. He doubts the man is trying to offer him money. The other man wiggles it a little and Everett takes it. “What’s this?”

David Scott, for the first time since Everett’s met him, looks a little abashed. “It’s, well, it’s got pictures of my son. It’s for Dr. Rush, a keepsake. He genuinely cared for my baby boy, and when you leave this star system, I thought he might like it to remember the child he saved.”

Everett takes it, nods his thanks. “Thank you on his behalf. I know he’ll treasure it.”

Nodding to Everett, the other man says, “Grandmother Camile took care of the paperwork transferring Dr. Rush’s custody. Once we return with Dr. Rush, we’ll send your group back to Destiny and I’ll report the change of custody. Things will be moving quickly, so I’ll say our farewells now. Good voyaging, Colonel Young. I’m honored to have met you and the crew of Destiny.”

He turns away and motions for his team to join him, resulting in a flurry of activity.

Two peel away and take their places on the rings, an electronic tablet of some kind in hand. They’re gone in a flash and he updates Eli and then it’s just a waiting game. Back on Destiny, they’re quietly getting ready to jump and all the Haven personal are being shadowed, ready to boot them off the ship. They can’t do that too early, it might trigger the Haven authorities into enacting their plans to take the ship.

He waits, feeling tense and on edge, sharing glances with TJ until Eli’s voice interrupts them. “Colonel Young! We think Rush just tried to dial the gate, but it was shut off at their end. I haven’t quite. . . Wait, no, yeah, I’m in. Wow. Oh crap!!”

“Eli, take a breath and report.” He can hear the commanding officer tone in his voice, and ruthlessly shuts out the worried lover that wants to scream at Eli that for God’s sake, what happened?

“Sorry. In real time I’m watching the security feeds at Haven’s stargate. Rush’s on the other side of the gate. Looks like he fell through, probably when they cut it off. Yikes, that’s quite a tumble he must have taken. There’s people checking him over. I, yeah, he’s not conscious. They’re moving him to a stretcher.”

Everett shoots a look at David Scott, points at the rings. “You ready?”

The man he’s trusting to rescue Nick takes a deep breath and nods. “We’re in the que, Colonel. We’ll bring him back to you.” He motions to his men and they take their places on the rings, one of them carrying a bag with medical supplies.

“Hey,” Everett says, Nick’s suspicious nature coming to mind. “If Nick doesn’t believe you’re there to help him get back to Destiny tell him I said I still think he’d make one damn fine rodeo clown.”

“All right,” David Scott says, with a confused look on his face. “‘Rodeo clown’ will make some sort of sense to him, I suppose?” He eyes Everett, waiting for an explanation, but Everett has no intention of explaining a thing to him.

He’s still making eye contact with Everett after endless minutes when the rings finally engage.

* * *

“Eli, talk to me,” Everett says. “What are you seeing?” It’s frustrating not being able to watch for himself what is happening, but beaming video over to this ship from Destiny might not be as secure. He’s taking no chances on alerting Haven’s authorities that something’s up with Destiny and their missing chief scientist.

“Yeah, so I guess this will be like a play by play sports thingie,” Eli says. “So, Doc was taken to an office after a medic examined him with some verrrrry interesting equipment. He recommended Doc go to the hospital but they’re holding off on that. He’s not in too bad a shape, according to the medic, but he could tell that Doc’s been pretty sick. He’s put him back on oxygen. Hang on.”

Eli sounds like he’s fiddling around with Destiny and Everett is left waiting on the sidelines. Finally he growls, “Eli.”

“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses. I’m getting into multiple cameras at the station inside and outside the office where Doc is at and it’s not exactly a picnic.”

There is a high pitched screech from Eli. “Jesus, don’t do that!!” There’s the sound of heavy breathing, then, “Sorry, Colonel. The AI just showed up and as usual didn’t give me any warning he was here. I swear, I just turn around and--”

“As if I give a fuck abou’ tha.’” Everett hears the AI interrupt. “An’ what the fuck are ye trying to do? You’ll snarl me systems that way. Here, and pay attention. I’ve got a ship to prepare to leave orbit.”

Everett’s heart had given a leap when he heard the AI. The biting tone wrapped in a Scottish accent was so close to Nick’s own voice, it always startled him. The AI’s accent was thicker than Nick’s, unless Nick had been drinking or really, really wiped out. It’s voice was higher pitched since the AI chose to manifest for reasons known only to itself as Nick, age fourteen.

There’s silence for a long minute, then Eli says, loud enough for Everett to hear, “Okay, Mini-Rush. Thanks for the help, and could you please not blow cigarette smoke in my face. God, how does actual Rush run so fast, if he was smoking like this when he was a middle-schooler?”

“Fuck off,” the AI says, and Everett can just picture him, in his worn and too big clothes, mop of disarrayed hair, defiant expression on his pixie face, cigarette hanging off his lip.

“He quit smoking for his wife when they got together,” Everett says, “although he started again when she passed away. Tell the AI thanks for me, Eli.”

“Baby Rush waggled his fingers at the radio and disappeared,” Eli responds. “I found the cameras at the terminal’s ring system and also the waiting area at the stargate and the office they took him into. Okay, we’re set. I’ve got video.”

“Can you see Nick?”

“Yeah he’s on a cot, and – oh. They’ve handcuffed him to it. One arm and one leg. He’s still got the oxygen on and he’s. . . Yeah, he’s starting to come to, I think. There’s a couple of guys with him but they haven’t noticed. One of them has the stargate remote. They’re bitching about what to do with Doc. They got a memo that they’ve mislaid about shutting down the stargate if our address was dialed, but they can’t remember what they’re supposed to do with the person who tried to dial it. Hang on, again.”

Everett waits while Eli listens to more of these men’s conversation. “Okay, I think we caught a break here. They’re stalling on calling Haven’s authorities because they don’t want to admit to not knowing the procedure. They put the remote in a safe and left the room. And yeah, Doc was faking still being out. He’s sat up, tried to see if he could get out of the handcuffs, but the cot is bolted to the floor and he can’t reach anything. He doesn’t look too good, but I think he’s breathing okay. Just looks like he’s been through the wringer. You know, how he looked after he had the surgery to remove the tracker from his chest but he was too stubborn to rest like he was supposed to.”

Everett couldn’t help but remember that time, his own growing respect for Nick and the incredulity he felt at Nick’s ability to just hang on by sheer will power. When he got him back, though, he wasn’t letting him overwork himself half to death. No, Nick was going to be spoiled and coddled and rest until he was fully recovered. Nick had nothing to prove to him or to the rest of the crew by working until he was ready to fall right off his stool. He was looking forward – so damn much – to kissing the pout off Nick’s face when he was told he was on medical leave.

“So, Doc went back to sleep. David Scott and his guys are done talking to what looks like customs at the rings at the terminal, they’re walking towards the stargate. It’s um, not real close together. Kind of like walking through O’Hare in Chicago. Takes forever to get anywhere.”

“Got it. Eli, are you still monitoring the hospital systems?”

“Yep. I am the man, I’ve got like a zillion monitors going here. The hospital’s security still have the hospital locked down. The plan is still for David Scott’s minions to make sure the hospital accepts the change in custody for Doc, right?”

“Correct. The only thing we can do is wait, unless it all goes to hell and we get down there to help.”

“Waiting sucks,” Eli sighs. “I’ll, umm, just update you when something more important than walking down corridors happens.”

“Roger that,” Everett says. “And Eli? Thank you. I don’t think we would have found Nick without your help.”

“You’re welcome,” Eli says warmly. “Everyone wants Doc back on board where he belongs.”

Eli is a good kid, Everett thinks, as he stands at parade rest, trying to relax tense muscles.
Nick cares about Eli, too. The Science Team, Greer, Matt. Chloe. TJ. With Carmen he’d never even pretended not to love her. Nick has, despite his initial best intentions, found himself with a network of friends and family, who accepted him for who he was, brilliant, sometimes grumpy and prickly, protective. Nick always scoffed at the notion that he was a genius, rolling his eyes. Hardworking, brave, reckless, stubborn, defiant, witty and beautiful, and sometimes so vulnerable it made Everett’s heart ache. Cute, too, especially waking up or when Everett caught him with a marker in his mouth, hands on hips staring at wall covered in his scrawl, with symbols Everett wasn’t familiar with, working a problem. Even more cute when he was informed of being cute. The way he’d wrinkle up his nose and give Everett an exasperated look, telling him he was daft. It never failed to make Everett smile as he teased Nick.

He misses him so damn much.

Eli’s right. Waiting sucks.

* * *

The rings engage on David’s Scott’s ship and Everett tenses as they deposit the two men sent to turn over the new conservatorship paperwork to hospital authorities.

“Colonel Young,” says one of two, “I’m Daniel Wray. The hospital accepted the change in conservatorship and know to contact Mr. Scott if Dr. Rush shows back up at the hospital. I told them it wasn’t likely, since he’ll be receiving medical care under Mr. Scott’s private doctor. But, they also told me that a man showing the now outdated conservatorship paperwork had been there and had left looking for Dr. Rush. He was going to the stargate terminal. His paperwork stated that Nicandria Rushman was an employee of a whore house, and that as a representative of that business, he had the authority to make decisions regarding medical care. I alerted Mr. Scott and he told me to return here, and then ring down to the Terminal and join him at the Stargate.”

The man returns to the ring after conferring with the crew member in charge of the rings, and moments later, the unforgettable sound of the rings engaging fills the room and the two men are gone.

Everett shoots a look at the tech. “Why come back to the ship if they’re just going to ring over to the station?”

The tech shakes his head. “Haven doesn’t allow groundside ring to ring transmission. So it was faster to come here, then ring down to the station.”

Haven’s technological advances are fascinating, and they must have developed ring technology on their own or from the tech left from the prior inhabitants of this planet. The more ruthless elements of the IOA would certainly consider it a favorable trade for Haven’s knowledge in exchange for Destiny.

Destiny’s mission is nebulous, almost mystical sounding, searching for answers to the creation of this universe. Haven’s knowledge is tangible, practical, and likely to make the Earth owners of that knowledge very wealthy.

Knowledge for likely only knowledge’s sake versus the next tech boom on Earth. Yeah, they needed to leave ASAP once Nick’s rescued. Destiny will be sacrificed if they don’t, and the crew ordered to take up their new posts on Haven as living museum exhibits of Haven’s origin. But not all them will be stranded on Haven. They’ll take Nick with them to continue the mission.

The thought makes his fists clench. “Eli, any progress?”

“No. Doc’s still asleep, the guys in charge of the stargate are still dithering about what procedure they’re supposed to follow. David Scott and his gang are still walking towards the stargate.”

“I want a report on how preparations to depart are going. Get Matt down there with you, and have him contact me. Over and out.”

While waiting on Matt’s report he checks in with the extraction team. TJ briefly squeezes his hand when he finishes. Greer gives him a thumbs up, and James a careful smile.

His radio beeps and he takes it off his belt, holds it up in front of him.

“Colonel? Lieutenant Scott here.”

“Go ahead, Matt.”

“Brody and Volker say we should probably drop out and refuel before reentering the Terminator’s territory. Everything’s a go, all crew who had leave on the space station are back on board. The crew’s been alerted and we’ve got all of Haven’s people in a conference room with Camile attending a ‘mandatory’ training on rules regarding fixing Destiny. Honestly, I think half of them are asleep. Camile is just droning on and on and on about the most obscure stuff. It’s like she took the most boring bullshit trainings and combined them into a real snoozefest.”

Everett winces, feeling momentarily sorry for Camile’s victims.

Matt says, “Better those guys than me. But we’ve got guards ready to escort them off the ship as soon as Dr. Rush and your team are back on board.”

“Okay. And the surveillance equipment Haven snuck on board? Still replaying past loops and no current events?”

“Eli has it under control, sir. We’ll disable it for good as soon as you’re back on board with Doc. “

“Good. Put Eli on.”

He waits while Matt turns the radio back to Eli.

“Colonel, it’s me,” Eli says. “Okay, There’s a guy talking to the stargate crew, arguing with them. The guy’s from that house of prostitution and he’s telling them Doc’s fake name, saying that he’s gonna take him. Says he talked with station security and – okay-- apparently one of the things they did to Doc while he was knocked out was do another retinal scan. The stargate guys are calling Security. . .” Long moments pass, then Eli says “Yeah, apparently Doc is officially ID’ed as Nicandria Rushman again.”

“Eli, where’s David Scott’s team?”

“They’re almost there. Okay, even though this guy has paperwork saying he can make decisions about Doc, the stargate guys are reluctant to turn him over. I guess because they don’t know what they’re actually supposed to do with Doc, you know, whatever that missing memo said to do.”

Eli leaves him waiting for long minutes. “Okay, the cavalry just showed up. David Scott is throwing his weight around, and I guess he must be a big deal, because all these guys are kissing his ass. The guy from the prostitution house just checked back in with his people, he’s bowing out. Says it was his office’s fault for not contacting him and letting him know Doc had been sold to Mr. Scott. David Scott just glared him right out the door.”

“What’s happening with Nick?”

“Still asleep.”

Everett waits. He doesn’t pace, although his body desperately wants to move. He’s the commander here, and it will make his team nervous if he gives in to the anxiety he can feel in every muscle. Eli is a good kid, and more perceptive than people realize when they meet him. From the way he’s giving careful updates, with no off topic rambling, he must understand how Everett is feeling.

Finally, it seems from Eli’s reporting, that the paperwork is squared away. David Scott has made mincemeat out of any objections to Nick coming with him and Everett has a feeling he’s underestimated just how powerful this descendent of Chloe and Matt really is in Haven’s society.

“Okay, the guy in charge of the stargate just woke Doc up and told him people are there to take him and left him alone. Doc, he’s standing up facing the door, and he’s really tense. I can see his fists are balled up, and he’s got that look on his face. You know the one, right? Like ‘bring it on, you bastards,’” Eli says in a really bad Scottish accent.

Everett does know that expression, he’s had it focused on him too many times before they’d made peace with each other.

“Okay, David Scott and his guys are in the room, and he’s talking to Doc. I’ll give you a running translation. ‘Hello Nick, do you remember me? And then Doc is saying, ‘I do, you’re my wee lad’s Da. What have you to do with me now?’ And then David is saying, ‘I’m your conservator; I bought your contract from that prostitution business,’ and Doc is saying, ‘Fuck no, you didn’t! I don’t belong to you and what the fuck would you want with me? ’”

Eli swallows so hard Everett can hear him over the radio transmission. “David Scott just said ‘What do I want with you? Well, a friend of mine told me that you’d make a damn fine rodeo clown,’ and he’s put a hand on Doc’s shoulder and Doc is letting him. Doc looks like somebody hit him with a two by four. Doc is saying, umm, ‘Will I be seeing this friend of yours?’ And David nodded yes, and Doc is hobbling towards the door.”

Everett lets out a sigh of relief. Nick remembered.

“They put one of those isolation suits on him, and he’s still on oxygen, now he’s sitting down in a wheelchair,” says Eli. There’s a long pause. “Now they’re leaving the stargate terminal. Oh, man, I think--”

“Eli, don’t you say it,” Greer says loudly next to him, holding out his hand for the radio. Everett gives it to him and takes the opportunity to move away, to blink back tears.

“Eli, we have talked about this. You don’t say those words. You don’t bring on a jinx, man, c’mon now. Just stay cool,” Greer says. “Just watch and let us know if they run into trouble or when they get to the rings. Sir,” he turns to Everett. “Anything further to tell Eli?”

He shakes his head, amused at Greer’s intervention. Maybe it was a superstition to not come right out and say a mission will be successful, or maybe Greer could just tell that he needed a break.

Everett did need a break. It felt like time was just crawling, like he was warm taffy and every moment stretched him until he was ready to snap.

Nick, he thinks. Nick is on his way home.

* * *

Eli reports in when the rescue team arrives at the ring terminal and goes through their version of customs. He mutters about how long it’s taking for Nick and his entourage to move up in the line. He lets out a sigh of relief when he tells Everett that the rings engaged with Nick and David Scott, plus two others from the team.

And then the rings are bursting to life on this rich man’s space yacht and Nick is there, dwarfed by the three men surrounding him, dressed in the yellow isolation suit Destiny’s manufactory had provided.

Nick pushes ineffectively against the men ringing him in. “Move,” he orders, tacking on a “please,” as an after thought.

They step out of the rings, and Nick stumbles. David Scott catches his elbow before he faceplants on the deck, only letting go when Everett puts both arms around Nick, holding him against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he tells Nick. “I’ve got you.” Nick looks at him through the clear face protection of his suit and nods slightly.

“Destiny?” Nick says, sounding out of breath, the oxygen cannula under his nose, a small tank attached to his suit.

“Ready to go as soon as we’re on board.” Everett tightens his arms around Nick, and sighing, Nick lays his head against his shoulder.

His crew is being tactful and not crowding them, but he sees wide grins on their faces.

The rings engage again, the rest of the rescue team coming on board. As soon as they’re clear of the rings, Everett passes the radio to James with an order to inform Eli and Matt they’re ringing to Destiny. He moves himself and Nick into the wide circle, calls out for TJ and Greer to join them.

David Scott holds up his hand in a farewell gesture. “Goodbye, Dr. Rush. I’ll never forget how you saved my son and you can be sure I’ll tell him why his name was changed to Joseph Brian Nicholas Scott.”

Nick nods at him, and Everett doubts he has any energy to do more than that, so he takes the baton. “Mr. Scott, thank you for your service. Without your help, getting our chief scientist back would have been much more difficult, possibly ending in bloodshed. I hope this doesn’t backfire on you with Haven’s authorities.”

David Scott smiles. “I’ve got that covered, I assure you. Grandmother Camile has the details, but the transfer of Nicandria Rushman’s conservatorship was done legally.”

“What transfer?” Nick mutters, “I’m no for having any such thing.”

“Later,” Everett soothes. “Don’t worry about it, Nick.”

“Now you sound like me,” Nick almost whispers. “Let’s go home, all right?” Everett squeezes him and wishes they were alone, back in their quarters and he would really welcome Nick home. He’d kiss every inch of him.

David Scott says, “I’m taking my family on a long vacation, and I believe when I return news of Destiny’s visit will be quite stale. Even if my part is discovered, the authorities won’t be able to charge me with anything. So, goodbye, and safe travels on your journey, Dr. Rush, Colonel Young.”

The rings engage and then they’re in the gate room. Stepping away from the rings, Everett gets a status report from Matthew. They’re ready to go as soon as the rest of the team rings over.

When the rest of the team arrives, he gives Nick another strong hug and whispers words that he’ll be there with him as soon as he gets things squared away and sends him with TJ to the isolation room. He refuses the portable gurney, insisting that he could walk. TJ takes it along anyway.

Greer escorts them and after Nick walks slowly for a few minutes, he pulls Nick’s arm over his shoulder. Nick lets him without any arguing and even more telling, he hadn’t demanded to go straight to the Bridge. Nick’s exhausted, all right.

Everett gives the order for Haven’s people on board to be brought to the gate room. He tells Brody to be ready to move the ship away from the space station they’re tethered to on his order and to jump as soon as it’s safe. Destiny chose their route away towards the edge of this galaxy.

Eighteen tall men and women are herded into the gate room, minus any tools they’d brought on board. The gate begins to light up, and he sees the confusion on their faces lift as they realize what is happening.

“We thank you for your assistance,” Everett says, wondering if any of these technicians know about their government’s plans to keep Destiny for themselves, stranding the crew on the planet below them. “Line up three abreast, and go through the gate as soon as the group before you is through. We’re sending you to the station.”

“Sir, Colonel Young! We know you’re leaving, and I for one want to go with you!” The woman speaking is looking at him earnestly. “Some of us have talked it over, and if the opportunity to come with you was possible, we decided to volunteer. We know it’s a one way trip, sir. We’ve said our goodbyes and none of us have anything really tying us to, to, our old homes. Please! We can help rebuild the ship. We want to stay.”

Jesus Christ, he curses silently. He doesn’t need this, but he can’t deny that their expertise could be useful. Or they could be planning on taking over the ship and returning Destiny to Haven. He’s tempted to just send them through the gate anyway, but they’ve lost crew members since they landed on Destiny’s deck, rolling and falling over, lost from their own galaxy. These people could be useful.

His radio goes off. “Colonel Young? It’s Eli. Listen, I think the jig is up. Those guys down at Haven’s stargate finally found those instructions and they’re calling the government to report about Rush. Also, the hospital administrator is being questioned by Interplanetary Security about their patient that absconded.”

“Okay, Eli. Report to Brody, he’s going to need your help.”

He gives the people lined up in front of the gate a thoughtful look. Well, Everett, he chides himself wryly. This is why you get the big bucks. Everyone is waiting on your decision.

“All of you who want to stay move to that wall and sit your asses down.” Everett points to the wall between the twin set of stairs. “You’ll be put into stasis until we’re so far away there’s no going back. Still want to join Destiny’s crew?”

In the end, ten left and eight stayed. He and Scott and James get them restrained by zipties as Destiny finally jumps into FTL.

He waits until their new crew members are safely put into stasis by Brody, Park, Volker and Eli under Greer’s watchful glower before finally, finally indulging himself in what he’s wanted to do for the last hour and a half. Scott has the Bridge. They’re safely away and he and Camile agree to not use the stones until they’re so far away from this part of the galaxy that they can’t be ordered to return. Camile is certain that Stargate Command is aware now of what they’ve done, but since they’ve never received orders to turn over the ship, they can’t be brought up on any charges of insubordination. One of the advantage of being so far away from Homeworld Command and the god damned IOA.

He changes into an isolation suit in the outer section of the new infirmary area they’d discovered. Before he can go through decontamination and enter Nick’s room, where he can see TJ checking his vitals and adjusting an IV, Destiny’s AI appears in front of him.

“Well, Colonel Young,” The AI says, brushing his overlong hair out of his youthful face. “Seems you’ve put your house t’ order.” He fishes out a cigarette from a shirt pocket, pats his jeans until he brings out a lighter.

“I think so. Nick’s home, we’re back to the mission. Anything you want to add?” The AI takes a deep drag on his cigarette, then coughs his nonexistent lungs out. He glares at Everett when he sees him smiling at him.

“It’s a really bad habit, kiddo. You know, Rush quit smoking. Maybe you should, too.”

The AI shrugs. “He wanted so badly to be taken seriously; he thought it made him seem older, tougher.”

“We know how tough he is, has always been. Cigarettes have nothing to do with it.”

“Aye, you may be right. I’ll think on it. And o’ course there’s plenty to do still to make the ship safe and whole again. Those lads and lasses you’ve let stay, they’ll be a great help.”

The AI looks up at him, Nick at fourteen, impudent and wary, not angelic, even though his features are delicate. Angels take their orders from a higher authority and Nick, even as a young kid like this, wouldn’t bow to anyone who thought they could control him, tell him what he should do or be.

Everett wouldn’t want him any other way.

He smiles at the AI. “Good talk. Now I’ve got somewhere to be. See ya around, Little Nick.”

Everett pushes open the door to the decontamination chamber, waves at TJ, and jabs the button that releases the mist and UV lights that ensure nothing nasty comes into the next room.

He watches Nick while he waits. He’s quiet, but not asleep. TJ must have told him Everett was there because he’s watching the door into the room with the intensity he usually bestows on fascinating math or computer problems. He’s out of the isolation suit that Everett and TJ are wearing. Everett’s glad. Nick needs to be comfortable. Hopefully, from the report he got from TJ after the tests she ran on Nick, he’ll only be contagious for another day or two. He’s run down, exhausted with some serious bruises probably rising from his tumble through the stargate. He might not have a concussion, but his head must still hurt.

The procedure comes to an end, and after another minute the door unlocks. He opens it and walks straight to Nick’s side, takes his hand.

“Hey, genius.” He can’t say anymore. Now that his commanding officer duties are fulfilled for the next hours, everything he has felt since Nick was taken and had to push down has risen up and clogged his throat. He can feel tears welling up and spilling down his face.

Nick squeezes his hand. “Aye, Everett. I know. I missed you too.” He scoots over and tugs on Everett’s hand. “Come lay down, you look like shite.”

That breaks through his inability to speak. “Pot, meet kettle.” He glances up at TJ, who nods.

“Sir, I’ve got a slow IV for hydration and Dr. Rush has been given some pain meds. He needs rest. His oxygen readings are still borderline, he needs to keep that cannula on. If you’re staying, I’ll go check on Carmen. If anything comes up, call me. I do have a kino set up, so I can check on our patient.” She points to a radio sitting on a bedside table and to a kino floating high in the corner of the room.

“Dr. Rush, is it, Lieutenant?” Nick grumbles, but he can’t keep a contented tone out of his put upon charade. “What happened to calling me Nick, or if you must, Nicholas?”

She smiles at him. “Tit for tat, Nick.”

“Yes, yes, TJ. Off you go now, and give my wee girl a kiss and a hug for me.”

TJ looks at him. “Sir, if you’re not comfortable with this, I can stay in the other room.”

“We’ll be fine, TJ. Go see to our girl.” TJ leaves and Nick tugs again at his hand, a silent order to heed his wishes.

He gladly joins Nick, pulls him close, wishing he could kiss him, make love to him. His tears have dried on his face, under his isolation mask, leaving his skin itchy. He doesn’t care. Nick is here, in his arms. He feels a great swell of happiness rising up, so much that it feels like it’s enveloping him and Nick in a cocoon of love.

But this is enough, for now. To feel the warmth of Nick’s body against his own. To run his gloved fingers through Nick’s mop of hair. It looks a little different, there’s some multicolored strands and any gray is gone. It’s still Nick’s, though.

“You’re really here,” he whispers into Nick’s ear. “God, I missed you so much. I love you and maybe this isn’t the right time, or the best time to say this, maybe I’ve got the romantic impulses of a box of rocks, but will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Nick rises up and gazes into his eyes. Those eyes. They’ve always intrigued Everett. Almond shaped and so dark, so intelligent, and for so long when their eyes had met, Nick’s had been guarded.

His eyes aren’t guarded now. They are shining, intent.

“I will.” Tears start flowing down Nick’s face, and Everett wipes them from his cheeks. “Me too, you know. I’d made up my mind to ask you to wed with me if I ever got back home, back to Destiny.”

Nick’s tears aren’t stopping. Instead he starts sobbing, sitting up, his arms wrapping around his knees. Everett moves and puts his arms around Nick, waits until his partner feels like talking again. He’ll share his pain with Everett when he’s ready. Not questioning him right now is a way that Everett can give Nick back the control over his life that those men stripped from him.

A long time later, or maybe twenty minutes, Nick’s breathing starts to even out. He finally says softly, “You know what those bastards did to me. TJ said Eli and Destiny got hold of the testimony when I was in hospital. You know.”

“I know what you told the cops and the doctors. I’m so sorry you were hurt again, Nick. I know that you beat them, all of them. You saved that kid. You’re okay, Nick.”

Nick manages a watery version of a laugh. “No, No, I’m no okay. Not right now. But I will be. I kept telling myself that you would help me again. You, TJ, Camile. And Greer. My Science Team, too.” Nick’s brow wrinkles. “God, I hope you’ve not let them run wild without me being here.” The thought of that apparently is distracting Nick enough that the sobs die down.

“Sh-sh-sh. They’ve done you proud, Nick. And we’ll show you everything they accomplished while you were gone, but after you’re better. I know how sick you’ve been. It’s going to be okay, baby.” He pulls Nick back down against him, starts slowing stroking his hair. “Go to sleep, Nick. You’re home, you’re safe.” He starts humming that tune Nick likes to sing to Carmen. Nick sings the Scottish Gaelic words to their baby, but Everett doesn’t have a prayer of doing that, still he can sing the tune and the refrain.

Nick listens for a while, his body growing even more heavy against Everett as sleep starts to overcome him.

“He did, you know,” Nick murmurs.

“Who did?”

“The boatman in the song. The sailor who was missing. He did come back to his lass and married her. And I came back and I’ll be marrying my sweetheart.”

“Yes you did. And we can get married whenever you want.”

“Let’s let Chloe and Lisa do the work of planning the thing.” Nick’s voice is slurring.

“Not Eli?” Everett says, amused.

“Do ye want to ride on a hoverboard to the ceremony?” Nick yawns, his eyes close, and with a pleased soft sound he wiggles a little against Everett and in another moment, sleep claims him.

Everett follows him soon after, so grateful that Nick is here, finally, back where he belongs.

* * *

Notes:

The song mentioned that Everett hums to Nick is Fhear a Bhata (spelling differs to other versions, I've noticed.) I've sung it to my children and children's children as I rocked them to sleep.

This version by Silly Wizard is mostly in English, but there are many lovely versions in Scot's Gaelic, or Irish Gaelic. I took the chapter title from the first verse.

How often haunting the highest hilltops
I scan the ocean, I sail tae sea
Wilt come tonight, love, wilt come tomorrow?
Wilt ever come, love, to comfort me?
Fhear a bhata no horo eil'e
Fhear a bhata no horo eil'e

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x6sddgRP820

There will be two more chapters to conclude this story. It's been a long time coming, and I thank everyone who has taken the time to read it. I appreciate it very much.

Laurie

Chapter 47: A Time to Heal

He can’t move. He can’t see in this darkness but he hears them approaching, their laughter bringing him to shudders, their scornful words echoing in his brain. ‘Pretty slut,’ and ‘Kresh’ta.’ ‘Dinn, Nicandria.’ ‘Baby boy, cutie.’ He hates all of the names bestowed upon him by his rapists and tormentors. Kiva knew what she was about, when she took his own name from him. It fucks with his sense of self, tries to reduce him to what those bastards want him to be: a whore, a sex slave. They want to wield power over him in the most primal way.

There are hands touching him, fingers shoving into his mouth, ordering him to suck them, and he gags on the taste of them, until they are replaced with a dick. It’s Simeon’s and it’s cold and tastes of death. He’s aware of a knife against his bound legs and feels the ropes binding him into such a degrading position parting. His legs flop down onto the table when the ropes are cut. Rush can’t make his useless legs move on their own no matter how much he tries. His wild hope of getting off this table is strangled as soon as the thought forms because his legs are picked up and put over someone’s shoulders and then he hears Purple Braids cheerful voice as the man’s dick pushes into him, “Cutie, did you really think we wouldn’t find you again?”

The taste of dead semen floods his mouth, and there is blood gushing over his face and he can’t breath, the semen and blood are choking him. He hears Purple Braids grunting as he comes inside of Rush.

There’s a baby crying furiously and the sound is like a lifeline. He follows it, chases it until the nightmare fades and his eyes open. He shudders and tells himself it was only a nightmare. It was’na real. It was’na real.

At first he’s not sure which baby he’s hearing, the wee lad he’d rescued or Carmen.

He realizes several things at once. He can see just fine in the dim light. He’s alone in his and Everett’s room. He’s safe.

It’s Carmen who is howling her displeasure in the adjoining room. He staggers to his feet, not bothering with pulling on a robe or jeans. TJ has seen him in his boxers and t-shirt many a time, and Carmen is still crying. Probably TJ or Everett has her, but what if TJ had to step out?

He remembers that Everett has meetings with Homeworld Command today, some shite about explaining Everett’s lack of cooperation with Haven’s officials. At least Everett had stayed on board, made those IOA bastards use the stones to come to him. Rush was banned from going by, well, just about everyone. TJ on medical grounds that he was still recovering, although he was not contagious anymore and was allowed to go back to his quarters; Everett because he said he would slug the pricks if they looked at Rush and even hinted that they should have waited for further orders before jumping into FTL. Everett said he didn’t want to hurt his own crew while they had exchanged bodies with the stones, so he asked Rush to stay out of it. Camile had just smiled at him and said she felt the same way.

For the sake of the crew, they said, they needed to keep the meeting civil. Some of them still had close ties to Earth and the stones were the only way to keep those ties.

They were going to explain what had happened to him after he’d been taken. He didn’t want to hear all that again. He wondered if the IOA representatives would be titillated or appalled at what had occurred. Some of them, he was quite sure, would think it quite funny or karmic that he’d been seen as dimwitted. His intellect, the only reason he was even recruited to the Stargate program, ignored in favor of being used and sold as a whore.

He didn’t think the crew found a bit of it hilarious. Or if any of them did, they’d made damn sure to keep their glee off their faces.

It’s normal, he supposes, that most of them also can’t keep expressions of pity from being directed his way. Volker is by far the worst of the Science Team. He much prefers the straightforward approach of Greer and Gin, who acknowledge the wrongs done to him but also his strength in surviving it. Eli, too, in his own stumbling way.

It’s doubtful he’d even be here if not for Eli’s and the AI’s searching for him by combing through gobs of communications for any hint of his whereabouts.

He’s grateful to all of them for finding him. They seem surprised that he’s been so open about telling them so. God, he was a right bastard when he’d met these people, so closed off and snarling half the time, or so overly polite that the disdain couldn’t be missed.

He was grieving, true, but he could have made more of an effort to be a better human being. Ah, well. The past is the past, he can only move forward and try harder to be a decent friend and crewmate. And husband.

Opening the door to Carmen’s room, he sees that indeed TJ has her, but she’s also trying to talk into the radio she’s attempting to keep out of her daughter’s hands.

Ah, that’s the reason for Carmen screaming bloody murder. She’s fascinated by any tech with buttons or that makes sounds or lights up and won’t take no for an answer when she’s set her mind to acquire the fascinating item.

He walks over to them, holding his arms out and TJ transfers the baby to him. Her eyes flash him a grateful look as she steps away to respond to the radio, while he blows on Carmen’s belly to make her stop wailing.

TJ signs off and says to him, “I’ve got to go to the infirmary. Dunning has a possible broken arm. I’ll get somebody to come over and babysit Carmen.”

“I’ll watch her. Take a walk down to the Mess and get some tea for me and a snack for her.” Carmen is still reaching for the radio, so he takes a few steps away, bouncing the baby a wee bit to distract her.

“Ni,” Carmen says, and points to the radio, looking at him with big tragic eyes, nodding her head. Her dark hair is quite curly, thanks to her father.

“Sorry, wee girl. Mama needs that. Shall we go and play with Becker’s pots and pans?” He blows on the baby’s belly again and chuckles when she’s giggling and demanding more by raising her shirt up herself.

“Nick, you’re supposed to be resting.” TJ is giving him her medical assessment look as she returns the radio to her belt, hiding it from her daughter. “You still look exhausted.”

He makes a face at her. “I slept. If I try again right now, I’ll just toss and turn. A walk and a distraction will do me some good.”

She sighs.“Nightmares again?” Her expression isn’t one of pity, thank fuck. It’s understanding and her eyes speak of comfort. She’s been nothing but kind to him, but especially after the Lucians had raped him and after Everett engineered his rescue from Haven.

“Aye. The same sort of rubbish as usual. Carmen’s crying was actually helpful, brought me out of it.” He gives TJ a wry smile.

“You’ll call me if you get too tired?” TJ’s expression is stern, but she’s not going to say no, he can tell.

“Yes, yes. I’m much better, you know. If I can finagle my way out of a hospital and ride public transportation and walk a good bit in a terminal while sick as a dog, I can manage to get to the Mess without keeling over. I promise I’m okay. But I’ll call you for reinforcements if I start to feel worse.”

“No stopping by the Bridge or the Applecore just to ‘check on a few wee things.’ She eyes him with a knowing look. “And take your radio with you.”

He rolls his eyes. “I promise.” He makes a pretend pouty face. “I’ve been an exceptionally good patient this time around, you know. Shouldn’t I get some credit for that?”

Laughing, TJ scolds him with her finger. “Oh, buster, you are so behind in that department, but I agree you’ve been much better this time around. I think you’ll be okay to go back to short shifts tomorrow. But, that privilege depends on how well you eat and rest. Some light exercise is fine. Carmen’s also had a nap and has a fresh diaper, do not let the crew feed her those cookies we stocked up on, but she can have some fruit or crackers.” She hands him a small bag with Carmen’s necessaries in it.

“All right. Say bye-bye to mama, wee girl.” Carmen makes the motions and with yells of ‘bye, bye, bye, bye,’ he returns with her to his room to dress, making sure to do some sleight of hand to hide his radio under his new, green loose button down style shirt.

Although, it might be quite fun to radio Volker and then hand the bloody thing to Carmen to babble into the man’s ear. He can always pretend it was an accident, after all.

* * *

He knows the sound of those soft footsteps, although their past meetings in the Mess had been in the hushed silence of the night, when nightmares of the Nakai had driven them from their beds.

“Hello, Chloe.”

He’s been limited till now on visitors, so this is the first time he’s seen her. She no longer has the Nakai markings, but Eli told him she retained her skills at maths, thank fuck.

She slides into the seat across from him, smiles at the baby in his lap, who is making mush out of a cracker. “Hi Nick. Want a refill on your tea?”

He nods, and she takes his mug over to the station, brings two back. Rush murmurs thank you, and Carmen reaches a hand towards their tea. “Hot,” she says, shaking her head in a negative gesture. “No-No.”

Chloe laughs softly, then praises Carmen’s good sense, and the two of them clap their hands.

Something inside of Rush relaxes, tension he wasn’t aware he was carrying. He has many terrible memories from this place. Horrible, humiliating, painful memories. It’s nice to make new memories to take the place of the ones Kiva orchestrated.

“This is different,” Chloe says. “From our mutual misery sleepless support group days.”

“Aye. It’s the middle of the afternoon instead of the middle of the night. And I’m no miserable anymore. Are you?”

Chloe smiles and reaches for his hand. “I’m happy. Me and Matt are so happy. You know I don’t have any more Nakai genes, don’t you?”

“TJ told me.” He tightens his hand around hers. “I didn’t have the best time while on Haven, but they did save my life probably with their medical treatment. They gave you and TJ, Volker and Greer, those amazing medical treatments and did quite a bit of repairs to Destiny, Brody tells me. Too bad their government wanted our ship.”

Chloe nods. “I met the father of the baby you saved. He was a descendent of my double, and Matt’s. I’m not sure what I think about him. He was respectful to us, but he still was kind of a dick. I mean, if he didn’t believe us that you were theDr. Nicholas Rush, he told us he was just going to keep you. He said he would have done it to protect you, that based on your ‘history’ you weren’t capable of taking care of yourself. You’d go back to being a, umm. . .”

“Prostitute is the word you’re having trouble with.” He gives her a crooked smile and lets go of her hand. Drinks his tea and gives Carmen another cracker. She takes a bite, then fishes it out of her mouth and offers it to him.

“Thank you, wee girl, but you keep it.” He kisses the top of her head, inhaling the sweet baby scent. It calms him and he look at Chloe.

She’s biting her lip. “I’m sorry. God, after everything that we’ve been through, you’d think I could talk to you about anything.”

“You can, Chloe. It’s all right. It happened, being treated like that again, like the Lucians had done. I was somewhat of a novelty to those bastards, being relatively small and easy to manhandle. They weren’t into torturing me, like Kiva had ordered. They wanted me pliant and responsive, so they drugged me. Well, most of the time. Sometimes I just faked it, to get what I wanted from them. Instructions on how to fly the ship, for example, in exchange for a blow job.”

“You played them.” Chloe’s eyes are glistening, but he doesn’t want her to cry about him.

He shrugs, and aims for a casual tone of voice. “I did, and I stole drugs from them and turned the tables. I left them sleeping it off around one of the planets the Terminators were fond of checking out. I don’t know if they’re alive or dead, but I’m no gonna lose any sleep about it.”

“They didn’t know who they were dealing with, did they?” Chloe smirks at him. The lass does have a bit of a mischievous side and knowing the tricks he’d used on those utter bastards was appealing to her.

“Well, I told them enough times.” He can hear the put out tone in his voice, even though he learned it was better that no one had believed him. It kept him off the government’s radar, saved him from being locked up securely until Haven’s government forced the crew off Destiny. Still, it rankles even now. “Everyone thought I was crazy. My kidnappers, the doctors, the police. It was annoying. That and not being able to read their language.”

“Being seen as illiterate must have been frustrating.”

“Aye. Took me back a few years.”

“Nick, what?” Chloe looks puzzled.

He sighs at the memory. “Ah, well, when I was at university, in England, I obviously didn’t fit in. I was poor, worked two jobs, my clothes weren’t posh, and I sounded just like what I was, a Glasgow lad. I was looked down upon, challenged as to what I was doing on campus in places only the students belonged. Usually it was assumed I worked there as a janitor or cook, something menial. I had security called on me quite a bit.”

“That’s terrible! That’s so classist!” Chloe looks indignant on his behalf. She’s a kind lass, would not look down on someone else for their accent or clothes, but he doubts he can say the same for the so called friends she’d had on Earth. That lot had sounded like a bunch of spoiled jackasses when Chloe had told him of her experiences on her visits back on Earth.

“Did I ever tell you Greer thought me a right rich bastard who never had done any physical work? When we were trudging along on that first planet, to get the minerals to purify the air?”

“He did? What happened?” She looks fascinated.

“Oh, so you think something happened, do ye?” With difficulty he pulls his expression into one he once used to terrorize his grad students.

The eye roll she gives him is impressive. “Well, you’re you and Greer is Greer, so yes. Did you guys get in a fight?”

Shrugging, he tells her, “There was some shouting and rolling down sand dunes. I explained his misconception and he thought about shooting me.”

“So, pretty typical planetside trip.”

“Aye.” The both break into chuckles.

Rush says, “Your many times great grandchild did help me get off the planet. So, yes, he was a dick, but he was a helpful one.”

“It was killing Colonel Young not to go down there himself.” Chloe grasps his hand and gives him a rueful smile.

“I know.” He tightens his fingers around hers, before they mutually let go of each other. Chloe and he understand each other very well. Besides Everett, she’s the person on board who knows him best. He decides to ask her to stand beside him when he says his vows to Everett. Lieutenant Scott would be a good choice to stand by Everett. The man definitely looks towards Everett as a mentor and probably a father figure. He’ll bring it up tonight, once they’re back in their quarters.

He says, catching Chloe’s eye, “Everett did the right thing and I told him I gave him high marks for doing the sensible choice. One very short person is an oddity. A whole lot of them would cause quite the stir and interest. No, it was best done the way he arranged.”

“How did you know it was safe to go with the man who said he was your owner, no wait, he didn’t use that word, he said he was your new conservator, although he did paperwork to change that to Colonel Young.”

Rush frowns. “Everett gave him a code phrase, which was nonsense to him and was something only Everett and I knew. Everett had told me once that I would make a good rodeo clown.”

She smiles, and says, “Oh. Yes, I agree. You’d be fantastic, I bet.”

“Hmm. And what was this about Everett becoming my conservator?”

Chloe’s eyebrows went up. “It wouldn’t mean anything. Not on board the ship.”

He remembers something about this was said when he first returned but Everett hadn’t explained and Rush was too tired and emotional when he’d come back to Destiny to think further on it.

“I’m no for having any such thing, this conservatorship.” He frowns and Cloe looks puzzled.

“Nick, it was just some kind of legal dodge so David Scott wouldn’t have any problems about letting you go. But you can ask Camile about it, she handled it. She’s going to be on Earth, though, taking some time to see Sharon after the IOA meeting.” She eyes him worriedly. “You know Colonel Young wouldn’t use anything like that to boss you around. It’s a worthless piece of paper.”

All right, he thinks. He’ll wait and talk to Camile before bringing it up with Everett. They’d been getting along so fantastically since his return and he wants to know more about this arrangement before starting an argument with him. Thinking about even a farce of someone basically owning him feels like a rock in his gut. Even if it’s Everett Young.

“There was a time, before what the Lucians did to me and the rest of you lot, when he very well might have exploited such a thing. I wasn’t being his good little scientist and he was fair frustrated with me.” Enough to leave me helpless on that damn planet for the Nakai to find. He keeps himself from shuddering, but just barely. “He was always saying I was a lot of work.”

“Well, you kind of were.” She grins as she says it, her eyes sparking with mischief. “I think there was a betting pool on whether or not you guys would end up fighting or fucking.”

“Chloe Armstrong, such language,” he says, pretending offense.

“Ha. When you’re worked up every other word is fuck or some other curse word.” She smirks at him.

“Too true.”

Carmen looks at Chloe and says, “Fuck.”

“Oops. Forgot about little ears over here.” Chloe tries for a contrite expression, but rather fails at it.

“Aye. I’m gonna have to watch myself around her. But I’m ‘totally throwing you under the bus,’ Chloe, when she tells her mama her new word.”

“You sound like Eli.” Her eyes are dancing, and she chuckles.

He gives her back an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, yes, I know. An unfortunate effect from over exposure. He’s talked at me for hours and hours since I came back.”

“He hardly stopped to eat or sleep trying to find you.”

“I know. He’s a good lad. I owe him because I don’t know if I would have made it back without his and the AI’s help.” He sighs again, for himself this time. “I promised him I would play that ridiculous game with him he’s been on about.”

Her eyes widen. “Dungeons and Dragons?! Oh, me too! This will be so great!”

Making air quotes with his fingers, he imitates Eli. “Man, this will be so epic!”

They both laugh, with Carmen squealing along, clapping her little hands again.

“So,” Chloe says brightly. “Let’s talk wedding plans.”

* * *

“That was nice,” Everett says as they walk back to their quarters. “I’m glad you stuck around.”

Of course he’d been tempted to leave the Mess when the dinner crowd started arriving, but while he was debating if he was up to being in a crowd, Everett and TJ had joined him and Carmen and Chloe at their table, and then Eli and Ginn and Greer and Lisa had pushed another table to join theirs and he’d taken a deep breath and stayed. The rest of his lot had ended up there as well, Brody and Volker and Matthew and James and Barnes. There had been a lot of laughing and congratulating going on, and his face felt warm with all of the attention.

Becker had fair outdone himself with all the new foodstuffs that had been restocked on Destiny. It was fucking marvelous to eat a meal that actually tasted good. If he never had to eat that protein slop again, he’d die a happy man.

Many, many of the crew had made a point of coming over to say a few words to him. People looked honestly happy to see him. He felt a bit flustered with it, to be honest.

Brody and Volker disappeared and came back carrying some bottles of Brody’s toxic brew, claiming it was much improved. He’d glanced at TJ when the drinks were being poured and she’d nodded.

The homebrew was more palatable, its one redeeming quality augmented with some flavor. That thought made him think of Mandy; he missed her, his friend, his Little Miss Brilliant. She would be happy that he had Everett now, as she had Franklin.

People had made toasts to him and Everett for becoming engaged, to Rush for coming home, to the improvements recently done with Destiny.

He’d sipped at each one, instead of throwing back the equivalent of a shot, and had proposed a toast himself. “To Mandy and Franklin,’ he’d said, holding his cup up. ‘May they find happiness and the answers to all their questions as they flit about the bloody universe.”

They’d all stayed in the Mess for quite some time, Eli crowing about his victory in getting Rush to agree to play his fantasy game and pinning him down as to a time and place. Two days hence, he’d honor his commitment, and then hopefully never have to engage in such rot again. Lisa and Chloe were deep in wedding planning, and honestly, turning it over to them was the best decision he and Everett could have made. Now they only had to show up and say “I do.”

TJ was the first to leave, after wiping Carmen’s little face clean of the remains of her dinner, saying it was time for a bath and bedtime for little girls.

Carmen had pouted, and had said, “Fuck.” TJ had frowned at him and practically giggling, he’d pointed at Chloe. “I’m innocent, I swear.”

Chloe’s faux guilty look had set the rest of them to laughing as well, as she admitted Carmen had picked up her new word from her.

Now, as he walks along Destiny’s corridors, a small chuckle escapes him, thinking of Carmen’s vocabulary expansion.

“What’s so funny?” Everett reaches over and takes his hand.

“Oh, nothing, really. Just being amused that Chloe taught Carmen her first curse word.” He can’t for the life of him stop the grin that crosses his face.

“Well, when she starts saying ‘bloody this’ and ‘bloody that,’ we’ll know who’s responsible.” He starts swinging Rush’s hand, like they’re two youngsters playing. “You looked like you enjoyed tonight.”

“I did. I was a little anxious at first, but then it was all right. More than all right. If you’d told me after we took Destiny back from the Lucians that I would ever tolerate, let alone enjoy being in the Mess again, I’d have thought you daft. It’s not that I’ve forgotten being on that table, but it’s balancing now, with much better memories. Everett. . .”

The words feel stuck in his throat.

“Hey, what is it, sweetheart?” Everett stops and pulls Rush close to him. They’re not alone in the corridor but no one is close by. “Are you okay?”

For an answer he curls his free hand around Everett’s neck and pulls him into a kiss.

He’s rather tentative at first, until Everett gets over his surprise and kisses him back with an increasing urgency.

Rush forgets he’s in a public corridor. Time becomes a concept that’s irrelevant. All that matters is Everett’s scent, the warmth of his arms around him, the taste of this man. He has missed this, missed Everett so much when he’d been taken.

Everett breaks away from him, cups his cheek. “Whatever you need, whatever you want, Nick.”

What does he want? He’s not made love with Everett since he returned. He’d felt too sick. He was content with sleeping together, just sleeping, as the memory of the touches of those other men began to dim. He felt safe sleeping with Everett, and when nightmares woke him up, Everett was there to ground him back to reality.

What does he want? Needs? He wants, needs to feel comfortable in his own skin again. To not let those bastards take away his agency, to make hateful the act of sex. He doesn’t want panic attacks when Everett strokes his dick, doesn’t want their love making to grind to a halt because he’s having flashbacks to being sexually abused, by fucking anybody who has groped him, fucked him, coerced him into doing sex acts on them.

“I want. . . I want. . .” He feels tears build and spill down his cheeks. He chokes back sobs. “I need to be whole. Those fuckers won’t take that from me.”

“Whatever you need from me, Nicholas.” He’s gently pulled against Everett’s chest and he focuses on his breathing. Slow count in. Slower count out. Define Bertrand’s postulate. Then Godel’s completeness theorem. Breathe in. Breathe out.

He inhales Everett’s scent, the combination of logic and breathing exercise bringing him back into control. Everett gives good hugs and he feels himself relaxing again. Unfortunately, he’s not in the mood for kissing now. Or anything more intimate. It bloody well annoys him, because he’d been enjoying what he and Everett had been doing.

He steps back and looks into Everett’s eyes. “I’m all right now. I don’t want to go to our quarters just yet, though.”

“Let’s go to the observation deck, then. Have a cup or two of tea and watch the light show.”

“Yes, that sounds fine.” Everett takes his hand and they resume walking, but not before Rush sees that Greer has been blocking people from walking towards them, protecting their privacy. He gives him a nod and Greer gives him one back.

“Did you know Greer was back there?”

“Yep. He had our six.”

“I’ve been saving a few pieces of the jerky we made on that planet. Greer’s fond of it.” He’ll give it to Becker to give to Greer, saving himself from the awkwardness of thanking the man in person.

“I remember. That was a good trip.” Everett smiles at him. “You stayed up all night tending the jerky fire.”

“Maybe we can do it again, if we find the right planet.”

“Sure. But I’ve made some changes. There will be at least four military accompanying any group doing exploring or gathering food. That way if the group needs to divide, everyone will still have protection.”

“Aye, that sounds wise.” He shudders, remembering how he’d been overwhelmed and taken on that ship. “Everett? Why do you think they took me? Do I look like an easy target? Is there something about me that screams, ‘that one, he’d make a good whore?’”

“They took you because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. And no, to that last part. God, Nick.” Everett falls silent and Rush waits for it, because he knows that look. Everett is thinking things through, searching for the right words. He’s not a naturally glib man, and Rush had made the mistake initially of thinking the slow speech equaled inadequate thinking. He’d been wrong.

Finally, as they near the observation deck, Everett says, “Here’s the thing, Genius. Somebody who doesn’t know you might be taken in at first glance that you’re an easy target because you’re a small guy – and let’s face it, everyone of us would have looked tiny to your kidnappers – and if you’re putting on that meek and mild professor act, they would no doubt underestimate you, if they swallowed it.”

Everett chuckles, shooting him a sardonic grin. “Me, I always wondered why people couldn’t see it was all fake. And if they did swallow your act, they’d regret it, I’m sure when you made mincemeat of them further down the line. If you aren’t putting on that act, then you come across as somebody you don’t want to get on the wrong side of. You project this strong, uh something like an aura, of ‘don’t mess with me.’ It’s intimidating as hell. Shoot, the number of times I had to order Volker to keep working with you when we first came through to Destiny because you scared the hell out of him, well, it was too many times.”

They enter the observation deck and Rush is thankful that it’s deserted. They help themselves at the beverage station and sit down on a small couch to sip their tea. The colorful brilliant lights he can see through the large windows as Destiny flies in FTL through space is so gorgeous and it always relaxes him to watch it.

Everett says, after slinging an arm around him, “There’s one thing I’ve learned about you, Nicholas Rush, and that there’s nothing you can’t do, nothing that can stop you when you set your mind on something. You’re a goddamn force of nature. A hurricane, a tornado, a tsunami. Gravity.”

“A lot of work, you mean. A pain in your arse.” He says the words lightly, inviting back teasing and banter.

“Sometimes, sure. You’re worth it, Genius. And one last thing related to what you said earlier. You scoff whenever someone compliments you on your looks. But, Nick. You are beautiful. Now and before those age treatments. So, yeah, sometimes people are going to look at you and just want you. Even when you’ve been up for two nights and you’re scruffy as hell, you are so damn attractive. But don’t twist that into thinking the way you look invites rape. That’s on the fuckers who abused you. You did nothing to make them act that way. Do you get that, Nicholas?”

Rush is silent, mulling over what Everett has said. Finally, he sighs. Everett is being sincere, so he will be, too. “I don’t know, Everett. But I’ll keep telling myself their abuse wasn’t my fault. It’s what Camile and TJ and Chloe and you used to tell me, after what the Lucians did. And I know it in my head, but sometimes, it’s just hard to believe that everything that went wrong wasn’t my fault. And aye, I know how that sounds and I know it’s wrong, it’s as you said, twisted thinking. I’ll keep working on it.”

“You’re not alone, Nick. You have family here, and family looks out for each other,” Everett says, running fingers through Rush’s hair. It’s soothing.

“I look in the mirror and I don’t see a particularly good looking chap. And now that I look much younger, I’ve been concerned that the crew will have even more difficulty accepting my authority.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem, but if there is, you come to me and I’ll set them straight.”

Rush shifts on the couch until he’s straddling Everett’s lap, letting his weight settle on his soon to be husband’s thighs. He kisses him, fingering Everett’s dark curls. “You took that treatment as well. I hadn’t said anything yet, but you must look like you did when you joined the Air Force. It’s nice, but for the record, I appreciated the way you looked before you aged down.”

“At least we’ve got our more mature selves wrapped up in these younger skins. I was an asshole when I was the age I now look.”

“Aye, I suppose I was too. I have never understood what Gloria saw in me to want me and marry me the way she did.” He kisses Everett again, letting his mouth open and Everett accepts his invitation gladly. They kiss for a long time, but it’s comforting more than arousing. Finally, Everett rests his forehead on Rush’s, and whispers that he loves him.

Rush says it back, and slides off Everett’s lap, standing up. “I suppose we should get some sleep. TJ is letting me go back to work tomorrow and she’ll not be pleased if I look exhausted come the morning.”

“Half shifts, for at least a week, Nick.” He points two fingers at his own eyes and then turns them towards Nick. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

Once that would have infuriated him. Now it just makes him smile. “Yes, yes. C’mon, up you get.” He reaches a hand and Everett uses it to pull himself up.

“Nick?”

“Mmmm,” The day is catching up to him and he yawns.

“I understand what Gloria saw when she looked at you. I know why she married you. It’s the same for me.”

Rush smiles, feeling warmed. “We’re getting married this weekend, by the way. Chloe informed me this afternoon.”

Everett laughs softly. “What are we going to do for our honeymoon?”

“We’re tossing the bloody radios out in the corridor and locking the door, that’s what we’re doing.”

Everett snorts in amusement, and takes his hand, swinging it slightly as they walk back to their quarters.

* * *

It’s like trying to make a key work and the tumblers align, like figuring out an equation and seeing it fall into place, working again with the Science Team. It feels right, and he reviews all the progress made while he was stuck on Tattooed Man’s ship or hopping from planet to planet, a baby secured to him and feeling so poorly, or when he’d been in hospital.

Having such abundant resources available plus extra skilled hands has improved Destiny’s situation by leaps and bounds. There’s a lot of panels stored to continue patching the ship, tons of raw material for the manufactory. Efficiency has taken a sharp curve upwards, what with the ship not having to divert energy into force fields to patch up damaged hull areas.

He works his calculations, has Eli and Chloe check them over, but they agree with his findings. It still won’t be enough to allow the ship to dial back to Earth.

They are not going to try dialing while in a star again, despite the unlimited energy available while skimming the corona. No, no more trips back or forth in time and ending up who knows where. Haven’s ancestors, the crew’s doubles, were incredibly lucky to end up on a planet with breathable atmosphere and an entire city left gift wrapped for them by the previous inhabitants. They might have ended up having to recreate civilization from the ground up instead of building on what was gifted to them by the people who’d ascended from the planet.

Lisa and Chloe and Eli are fascinated by the history of their doubles, and make valiant efforts to interest him in it also, but it’s too unreal to him to pay much attention. Except for the other Chloe, that is. He feels such grief that she had been taken from her family and home by the Nakai.

She must have died long ago, but it still haunts him. Did they torture her the entire time she was with them? Did they do surgery on her, continue to mutilate her for their own twisted curiosity? He knew how much she had dreaded the Nakai finding her before the ill fated attempt to dial within the star. Did she think she was safe when she ended up three thousand years in the past?

“Nick,” Everett says, “Hey, hotshot. Your shift was over an hour ago.”

Rush startles and slides off his stool. He hadn’t heard Everett enter the Applecore, where he’d taken himself off to work without a lot of Science Team chatter to distract him.

“Ahh,” he says. “Guess I lost track of time.”

“Uh-huh. C’mon, I picked us up an early dinner. We can go to the Observation Deck, if you want. Or go back to our quarters and play chess. Whatever you’re in the mood for, Dr. Rush.” Everett flashes him a quick grin and Rush feels a flush of arousal.

“Why not all three?”

“Three? What do you have in mind beside dinner in the Observation Deck and chess in our room?”

He turns and slides his arms around Everett’s neck. “Guess what I’ll be having for dessert?”

Everett’s passionate kiss is answer enough.

* * *

It’s enjoyable, the evening he’s had so far. He won the chess game and has felt smug indeed about it. Everett rolls his eyes at him but lets him gloat for a time, then asks him to return the dishes to Becker while he takes a quick shower.

When he returns to their quarters, the lights are dim, his Ipod is playing his favorite playlist of classical music and there are two small mugs of Brody’s moonshine waiting on the coffee table.

Everett’s black hair is damp, the curls more riotous than usual as he sprawls on the couch. Rush feels arousal stirring low in his belly, and he licks his lips, his mouth is dry. Everett looks very good with his robe carelessly tied. Very inviting.

He wonders abruptly if Everett is expecting a blow job, to have Rush on his knees pleasuring him. His arousal dies suddenly, and instead of seeing Everett he sees Purple Haired man, sitting on the bridge of that damned ship just waiting for Rush to slide to his knees and play the whore for him, so the bastard will indulge him in his curiosity about the smuggler’s ship’s systems.

He drags himself away from that flashback before it fully envelops him, deep slow breaths, in and out. Figuring the square footage of their room minus the footage of the furniture, and he’s thankful that math can lead him away from that dangerous precipice and back to safe paths.

It works. Sadly, he’s not ready now to touch Everett, to use his hands, mouth, and dick to to make love and to have Everett’s hands, those rough, strong hands, pleasure him.

He gives Everett a rueful smile. “I’ll take a shower, too. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I don’t plan to, Genius.” Everett’s eyes are knowing. Accepting. Rush feels himself relaxing, turns and starts stripping off his clothes, dropping them on the floor as he heads towards the bathroom.

The shower calms him further, and he’s self aware enough to know that the hot mist, soaping himself and rinsing the suds away, is a ritual for emotional cleansing much more than scrubbing away grime and sweat.

So bloody what. It’s what he figured out and it works for him. He dries off, brushes his teeth, relieves himself. He daydreams about Everett using those strong hands of his to touch and explore and he imagines them slick with oil and a finger pressing inside of him, his hands wrapping around Rush’s dick, how good it feels.

Then he imagines himself telling Everett to stop, to take his hands away from him.

In his daydream Everett does exactly that, and Rush feels himself relaxing even more, feeling safe, feeling in control.

Everett listens to him, respects him and will abide by any boundaries Rush sets.

Of course, this is Everett as he’s imagined him to be. But he’s confident Everett would do exactly what Rush requests from him. He’ll not push him into sexual acts he’s not ready to do. David would have, he knows.

And that in a nutshell is why he’s with Everett and not David.

He places the towel back on the rack and inspects his face in the small mirror, still surprised by the young man looking back at him. He looks like a grad student, he thinks. One who hasn’t experienced the world outside of academia.

Looks are deceiving, of course. He’s experienced more than his fair share of troubles and grief, hurt and anguish.

More than his fair share of love, too, and now friendships that are meaningful and real.

He’s a lucky man, he decides. And his lover, his husband in a few days, is gorgeous and sexy and waiting for him.

Walking out naked, he straddles Everett’s lap, kisses him with all his heart.

Everett hardens under him, and Rush unties Everett’s robe, slips it off his shoulders, letting it pool around his lover so that he’s as bare as Rush.

“Genius,” Everett says, and his voice thrums with arousal. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

Rush kisses him again, places Everett’s hands on his nipples. Everett takes the hint and soon Rush is panting, hard as a damn rock, and Everett slides him off his lap and onto the couch. He stretches out on top of Rush, and he’s heavy and it feels so good to be held like that, Everett kissing his neck.

Until it doesn’t. Until he flashes at how he’d been held down and taken over and over by those three men, drugged, filmed for his own damn sale to a brothel.

“Stop?” Rush whispers. Everett stills and looks down, a question in his eyes.

“Nick? Whatever you need, Genius.” Everett moves off him, and Rush sits up, takes Everett’s hand in his.

“I’m going to be okay, love. I just need a moment. I know you’ll stop if I ask and that’s why.”

Everett looks puzzled, but he takes one of the mugs filled with moonshine and hands it to Rush, then picks up his own. “That’s why what?”

“I’ll be okay because you’ll let me stay in control, you won’t take that away.”

“Oh. Well, sure. And it’s mutual, of course. I know that. I guess maybe we should have talked about this stuff before the heavy making out.” Everett grins at him crookedly. “It would have made Camile’s day.”

“Forget bloody Camile.” Although he agrees she would have been pleased with the two of them for being so responsible as to discuss ahead of time boundaries and agreements and all that rot. “We’ve hurt each other in the past, sometimes for a good reason, sometimes not. We’ve gone beyond that. I trust you and you just proved it to me. Let’s drink up this swill, move to the bed and get on wi’ it.”

Everett laughs at him, brushes a hand over Rush’s thigh. “Love the sweet talk, Genius. Okay, a toast.”

“To us. For better or worse,” Rush says, smirking a little.

“Richer or poorer,” Everett adds, with a smile.

“In sickness and health,” Rush adds, and he can feel his expression turn somber.

Everett notices and brushes Rush’s hair away from where it had fallen into his eyes.

“Till death do us part,” he adds, just as soberly. “I love you, Nicholas Rush. I’ll do my god damn best to make you happy.”

“Aye, and I will for you as well. You’ll tell me if I get it wrong?”

“Yep. And you’ll do the same?”

“Aye. Drink up, love. I do love you, you know.”

“Yeah, I got that, Nick.” He nods towards Rush’s mug and they proceed to throw back Brody’s rotgut in one long gulp.

He shudders as he puts the mug down, amused to see Everett making a face.

Standing up, he pulls Everett to his feet and still holding his hand takes him to the bed, rips the neatly made covers down. He kisses him before letting go and climbing in, turning to watch Everett do the same.

Everett lies on his back and Rush takes the invitation by straddling his hips, bending down to kiss him. So, no doubt Everett figured out that holding Rush down by the weight of his body had alarmed him. It’s just like him to not make a big deal about it, but to make a work around. That’s what they do, Destiny’s crew. They take whatever shit situation they’ve landed in and find a way to make it work for them.

And yes, this workaround is fine. Touching, stroking, kissing, Everett is driving him wild and he runs his fingers through the tight black curls before toppling himself over so they are lying side by side. He strokes Everett, enjoying the feel of his lover’s penis, and Everett catches on, begins to do the same to him.

He closes his eyes, loses himself in the sensations and until he tips over into bliss, his hands on Everett’s body stilling involuntarily as his orgasm shuts off his ability to move, to speak, to think.

Everett is breathing heavily beside him, and Rush can feel that he’s close to orgasm, but not quite there.

Regaining his bloody ability to move and think, Rush scoots down in the bed and takes Everett in his mouth and proceeds to drive him wild, Everett’s hands clutching Rush’s hair, with broken sounds and panting that sound like a plea, like a prayer.

Everett feels so hard in his mouth, so ready to burst like a ripe fruit, that he has only a moment to decide if he wants him to come in his mouth or not.

Not this time, he decides, and wraps his hand around Everett’s dick, licking one last stripe up to the very tip, then letting his hands bring Everett to completion.

He decided. He was in control. Everett didn’t order him to do a damn thing. This is his, his and Everett’s, and there’s no one else that has any right to be there with him. He’s kicked his abusers out of his mind, and locked the fucking door on them. Bastards each and every one of them, and they can rot in hell. Everett is his, and he’s Everett’s, this is their quarters, on their ship. This is the life he chooses, and he bloody well doesn’t belong to anyone but himself.

Everett lazily pulls him up so he’s mostly lying on top. “Outstanding, Genius,” he says, and yawns. He gives Rush a sloppy kiss and closes his eyes.

Rush smiles at him, knowing he must look half daft, but Everett’s on his way to being dead asleep, so he can’t see and tease him about it.

He belongs to himself, and that reminds him. Camile is returning tomorrow and he needs to have words with her about that fucking document that legally on Haven made him his wee lad’s father’s responsibility and in effect his property. That he’d transferred to Everett, according to what Chloe had told him.

Time to find out what that was all about. He’d decided not to bring it up with Everett until he knew what he actually was talking about. Camile took care of it, so Camile can just bloody well explain about it.

Nodding to himself, he uses a corner of the top sheet to wipe himself and Everett clean, then he slides down and scoots around till he’s snug against Everett, an arm slung over his chest, covers pulled up over his shoulder.

He falls asleep feeling content.

* * *

Rush asks Riley, who’s stationed in the Stones Room, to notify him when Camile returns and shortly before his shift ends on the Bridge, he’s told she returned and went to her quarters.

He tells Eli and Brody he’s leaving and jogs down the corridor until he’s forced to slow down to a walk. He’s still not totally recovered from his illness. He knocks on Camile’s door and she comes to the door, smiling when she sees him.

“Nicholas! You look so much better. How are you feeling? Come in, come in.” She steps back and waves him inside her room. She’s personalized it with drawings of her Sharon and with beach scenes. He sees one of Carmen with TJ, a madonna and child representation.

“I’m well enough. I wanted to ask about some kind of paperwork from the man who got me away from Haven to Everett. Chloe said you handled it.”

“Yesss,” she says, drawing the word out. “Have a seat and I’ll show it to you.” She points to one of the two chairs set before a small table. He sits down and tells himself to not lose his temper. Chloe was right, of course. Whatever this paper says means nothing while he’s on this ship.

Unless Haven and Earth develop some sort of treaty? And as a result transactions made on Haven would need to be honored on Earth, and by extension, Destiny?

“Nicholas? Nick?” He looks up at her, at her kind expression, the way her long dark hair falls over one shoulder. She’s holding papers in her hand. “You were deep in thought. I’ve got that paperwork, but let me just short cut it for you. There was a transfer of conservatorship from David Scott--”

“No!” he interrupts. “I’m no for having Everett listed as my god damned owner.”

“That’s not--”

“What?” he interrupts again. His hands are trembling. “Not possible to change? Stargate Command approves of this, don’t they, and the damn IOA. For me to be leashed, that Everett can yank my chain when I become, ‘difficult?’”

“He’s not your conservator,” Camile says quietly, sitting down across from him, putting the papers down. “I had David Scott transfer that paperwork to me. As a civilian on Destiny, I’m your superior, although I’m well aware you never paid any attention to that. I convinced David Scott I was the appropriate person to name. It was to protect him from any legal actions for releasing you. He could have been prosecuted otherwise, for irresponsible behavior towards his conservatoree.”

“I’ll not-” He begins, but it’s Camile’s turn to interrupt him.

“Nicholas, do you trust me?” she asks. She’s calm, and reaches out to take his hand. “After everything we’ve gone through, do you trust me?”

His breathing slows down. He pushes through his outrage at this whole business and considers her question.

“Aye, I do.” And he’s not lying. Camile did what she could to help him after Kiva finished his torture.

“I’m glad to hear it. And don’t worry; I’ve got your six.” She looks a bit like the cat that ate the canary.

“You’ve done something,” he says, an eyebrow raising.

“Yes. So David Scott transferred the conservatorship to me. Obviously, letting it go to Colonel Young was a disaster waiting to explode, since you’re in a relationship. I knew you’d resent it, maybe start resenting him. So I insisted I be listed in the paperwork. Then, as a qualified licensed psych examiner, with a masters in psychology, I reviewed the criteria for your conservatorship and with my authority recommended it be revoked it. It went before a judge and the change of status granted. It’s been documented as such with the IOA, Stargate Command, and with the department on Haven in charge of conservatorships. You’re not under any more authority than you ever were, Nicholas.”

He grins at her. “That’s pure dead brilliant, Camile. Thank you. I’m so glad I didn’t pick a fight with Everett over this.”

“I doubt he’s given two thoughts to it, honestly, Nicholas. But I know you well enough to see it would really bother you, so you’re welcome. Now, I hear there’s a wedding this weekend? Congratulations.” She shoots him a smug look. “I predicted this, you know.”

“After Kiva’s takeover, I suppose.” Everett and he had become closer after that.

“Actually, much earlier.” Camile rolls her eyes at the memory. “You two set off sparks even back on Icarus. The dangerous kind. I figured you’d either kill each other or become lovers. So, I’m happy for you both. Now.” She points towards her door. “Go see your partner, and let me take a nap. The scientist who exchanged with me was a workaholic night owl, apparently, because I feel exhausted.”

He left her yawning, after thanking her again for doing what she did. Of course it was a silly piece of paper, worth as much as monopoly money, but it had bothered him a great deal. It was a bit chilling to know that if he’d stayed on Haven, how he would have been restricted to that man’s rules.

He’d dodged a bullet, as Everett would say. Time to put it behind him and focus on his work and his marriage. Maybe Everett would like to play chess tonight.

* * *

“Nervous, Genius?” Everett takes the tie out of his hands and loops it around Rush’s neck. “You’re going to mangle that tie if you keep twisting it like that.”

Rush sighs, runs his hand through his hair, belatedly realizing he had just put it back into its usual state of disarray. “A bit, yes.”

“Having second thoughts about marrying me tonight?” Everett sounds unconcerned as he expertly knots the dark green tie around Rush’s neck.

“No,” he says scornfully. “O’ course not.” He bites his lip, and runs his hand through his hair again. “It’s, well,” he gestures with his arm, a wide encompassing movement and looks at Everett like that explains everything. He can practically hear Camile repeating one of her mantras about communicating, but he ignores his inner voice that’s telling him to use words, damn it.

Everett gives him a long slow look, assessing him. “You’re nervous because everybody on this ship will be there to watch us take our vows?” Rush nods. “What about afterwards? You feeling that way about the shindig in the Mess too?”

Rush shakes his head. “Just the ceremony. Once that lot are in reach of food and drink, staring at me won’t be on their minds.”

Everett pulls him into an embrace, his arms tight around him. “It’ll be okay. People are going to look, sure, but that’s because you’re something to look at. You’re beautiful, handsome, intriguing, and they just want to share in our happiness. Nothing bad’s gonna happen. You just look at me, Nick, just keep your eyes on me.”

He pulls Everett down into a kiss, and steps back, feeling absurdly grateful to this man. “Yes, yes. I suppose we should be off. Chloe and Matthew will be waiting on us.”

“In a moment. I’m tempted to let you walk out that door just as you are, because your hair looks like you just rolled out of my bed, and Genius, that’s a good look on you.” Everett winks at him, the git.

“And have the crew snickering as I walk past them! Not on your life. Where’s the bloody brush?”

* * *

Rush sits on Everett’s lap, flushed, and a bit tipsy, playing with Everett’s fingers. His husband had taken off his brand new uniform jacket and his black, long sleeved T-shirt was shoved up to his elbows. Everett’s arm around him felt solid and warm.

He was married. They’d said their vows, witnessed by the crew and the universe, the colors streaming past the Observation Deck’s large windows. The party in the Mess afterwards was in full swing, loud music, people dancing, eating and talking.

He felt good. He liked sitting on Everett’s lap, although it wouldn’t be something he’d be admitting.

Well. Except to Everett. Back in their quarters he’d climb back on his lap, but this time he’d be facing him, and they’d be naked and, and. . . Best to not indulge any more in that sort of thinking, not here, in the Mess.

Eli steps into his field of vision, with his ever present kino recording as it had been doing since Chloe had walked him down past the crew sitting on makeshift benches in the Observation Deck. Eli had appointed himself as wedding photographer and the lad did take his work seriously.

“Oh, wow! You actually did it! I owe Volker ten bucks.” Eli looks surprised and there’s a slow flush heating his face. Ha, served the lad right for offering a way out of playing his ridiculous Dungeons and Dragons game a third time.

“Twas the lesser of your evil choices, Eli. I truly thank you for all your help in getting me back, but this repays the debt, as you said.”

“I never thought you’d actually sit on the Colonel’s lap!” Eli’s face is a brilliant shade of red now. Rush thinks that maybe the teasing he’s likely to get is worth it for turning this joke back around on Eli. He smirks at him, and then kisses Everett, just to amp up Eli’s embarrassment level.

Everett’s not treating this as a prank, though. He crushes Rush to him, kisses him with passion, a hand in his hair, and Rush forgets about Eli, forgets he’s in public, with other eyes on them. There’s only Everett, and he wants him.

When they break apart finally, to breathe, Eli and his kino have disappeared. Rush looks at his husband, sees the dilated pupils and the harsh breathing, feels the erection under him. He could grind himself down on it, he could, but he won’t. Not yet.

“Let’s go, love,” he says. “Let’s just slip away, not bother with letting anyone know.”

For an answer, Everett stands up, still holding on to him, an arm under his knees. Rush feels his arousal multiply exponentially; Everett is strong and it’s a turn on for him. Everett knows. There’s no need to point it out.

He holds Rush in his arms for just a moment longer than he needs to before letting him slide down against him until he’s back on his feet. “Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, they make their way to the exit, but a few people notice and congratulate them. Before long it’s like a bloody gauntlet of handshakes and hugs, before they’re free and making their way to their quarters.

Everett takes their radios, turns them off and places them outside in the corridor.

“I’m off duty for three days, so are you,” Everett tells him, grinning. “Greer’s going to be delivering meals and Eli’s set us up with movies and music. Brody’s donated a bottle of his finest.”

“That’s what you want to do, is it now?” he asks, grinning back as he moves into Everett’s arms. “Watch movies and drink Brody’s swill? Sounds like a teenager’s sleepover.”

Everett puts his hands on Rush’s thighs and lifts him up, causing Rush to make a rather undignified noise as he wraps his legs around his husband’s waist and throws his arms around his neck.

“Who said anything about sleeping?” Everett carries him to the bed, lays him down. Kneels and begins taking off Rush’s shoes, socks, his belt.

He’s naked now, and Everett is still kneeling next to him. Gazing at him with such love. Rush is nude, true, but it’s not his lack of clothes that makes him feel so naked. It feels like Everett sees everything about him, his body. His soul. All his many flaws and faults. He feels tears building, his emotions swelling like a tsunami, and he’s going to drown, he’s not large enough to contain all these feelings, this love and longing for the man smiling at him so tenderly.

The tears spill over and Everett’s expression changes to one of concern. “Hey, it’s all right. You’re okay, just a big day. I love you, Genius.”

“I don’t really know why,” Rush chokes out, closing his eyes. He opens them again when Everett sits down next to him, pulling a blanket around him, wrapping him in his arms.

“About why I love you, Genius?” Rush nods. “I guess that’s my mission, then. For the rest of my life, I’m gonna help you see why I picked you. Why I love you. Until you really get it, can you trust me that I haven’t made a mistake? You’re it for me, Nick.”

Everett’s expression is so full of love, of understanding.

He sobs then, more tears and it finally frustrates him so much that he’s spending his wedding night bawling that his annoyance finally dries up his tears.

“Right,” he chokes out, wiping his eyes again on the edge of the blanket. “I’m fuckin’ sorry for ruining the mood.”

“Hey, knock it off. You didn’t ruin anything. You want to just get some sleep, watch something?” Everett doesn’t look a bit annoyed or upset that sex was shoved off the table.

He shakes his head. He wants a shower. It’s his go to for getting himself back to rights, but he doesn’t want to be in there by himself.

“Will you take a shower with me?”

Everett smiles at him. “Love to.”

* * *

They make love that night slowly, taking their time, and Everett is gentle with him. Later, he knows there will be ferocious passion, impatient and demanding touches back and forth between them. This night, Everett worships him with his mouth and strong hands, and he feels loved, feels cherished as his orgasm rips through him. Everett questions him with a raised eyebrow when he slides down the bed, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder.

“I want this, if you do,” he says calmly, and Everett gives him a lazy grin.

“Genius, I’m all yours.”

He finds it very satisfying indeed when Everett can no longer say words, as Rush brings him to completion using his lips and tongue and fingers.

Sliding into sleep listening to Everett’s heartbeat, and feeling the rise and fall of his chest, he knows without a doubt that he’s going to be all right. Kiva and her lot, his kidnappers, they can’t ruin what he and Everett have with each other. He’ll have bad days, aye, but he’ll not have to face them alone.

He’ll be fine.

* * *

Chloe winks at him as he enters the Bridge, and he rolls his eyes back at her. The rest of the crew on Bridge duty ignore him, tending to their monitors, but Chloe beckons him over to her station. She’s smiling, in a rather wicked way for such a lovely girl. Bracing himself for some teasing, he goes to stand next to her.

“Good honeymoon?” she asks, like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Aye, it was pure dead brilliant. And when’s your own wedding again? Five days, is it?” He gives her his best unimpressed look and she laughs, holding her hands up in a defense gesture.

“Okay, okay, Truce. A no teasing zone.” She still shoots him a mischievous look. “Might want to button your shirt again, Nick. Either you were half asleep or Colonel Young was focusing on something else, maybe that hickey on your neck.”

He looks down and mutters, “Fuck.”

He turns his back to Chloe and the others, re-buttons his dark blue shirt correctly this time, touching the tender area high on his neck where Everett had claimed him, telling him it was a souvenir of their honeymoon. He’d snorted, telling Everett that it wasn’t like they’d been to the fair. Then Everett had extracted a promise from him that if they ever returned to Earth, he’d go with him to a county fair. He’d promised him rides on Ferris Wheels, and winning him some ridiculous stuffed animal.

Chloe is still smiling when he turns around. “All right then,” he says, determined to ignore that smile. “What are you working on?”

“Refueling and maybe a trip down to a planet, if one looks promising. We’re actually pretty good on supplies, but some fresh air would be nice.”

“We’re near the Badlands, correct?” The area of space that was patrolled by the Terminator robot ships was mapped up to a point. “Are we past charted space yet?”

“Almost. And Destiny is aiming us at the next galaxy. And that could be dicey.”

“Aye, the void between would take too long to cross. We’d be out of supplies before we’re halfway there. But no worries, Chloe. We have the stasis chambers as back up.”

“We know. It’s all the Science Team wants to talk about. But anybody who has people back home, they’re not happy about not being able to talk to them for several years.”

“Better that than starving to death. Let the Science Team know we’ll have a meeting tonight, say,” he looks at his watch, “1600 hours.”

“4pm? You sounded like the Colonel with that ‘1600 hours’.” She grins at him again, clearly still in a teasing mood.

“Yes, well, it’s more accurate. Scientists and medical people use it also, you know.” No, he doesn’t sound a bit defensive. In truth, though, Everett’s use of the twenty-four hour system has gotten him doing it all the time, too.

Chloe keeps grinning. “Funny, I don’t remember you using it much before you two got together.”

Damn it. He feels a blush heating his cheeks. Narrowing his eyes at her, he tries to get this conversation back on course. “Regardless, having the meeting right before Becker opens up for supper should keep people on track, if they’d like anything to eat that isn’t mush. I want to hear everyone’s perspective from their own specialties on going into stasis vs crossing the void awake.”

He pats her on the arm and turns towards the exit.

“Want to meet up for lunch?” Chloe asks, and he shakes his head.

“I’m going to see if the AI wants to have a wee chat. Could take a while, so I’ll pass on lunch.”

“Nick?” She looks at him with no trace of teasing. “I only want you to be happy, okay?”

He smiles at her. “I am. More than I ever thought I could be, again, and certainly more than I deserve.”

Chloe punches him on his bicep. “You deserve all the happiness, idiot. Don’t put yourself down like that.”

It doesn’t hurt. Just a wee sting, really, which he rubs away. “Ouch. All right, all right, message received. And you too, Chloe. All the happiness in the world to you.”

She’s a good lass, Chloe is. He remembers what seems a long time ago, when they’d first arrived on a barely functioning Destiny. She’d held him responsible for her father’s death.

Bowled him right over, she had, and he had let her beat her fists against his body, allowing her to grieve her father’s sacrifice. The Senator had closed off a major air leak to buy her more time to live. He’d vowed to himself to do everything he could to not make the man’s death be in vain.

They’d become family to each other after they’d escaped from the Nakai. Chloe was the first person he’d opened up to on board. She was very dear to him and he loved her wholeheartedly. He’d been honored that she picked him to stand with her at her wedding.

He impulsively kisses her on the forehead, turning round at the sound of Volker choking, and gives him a glare for old times sake.

In truth, he and Volker get along now, mostly, and he appreciates the man’s contributions, but honestly. It’s still too damn easy to feel a flare of irritation at the man when he acts like a git.

“Bye, Chloe,” he says and strides right past Volker, giving him a friendly smack to the chest.

“Ow!!! Hey!” he hears Volker whine before he’s out in the corridor. Now, to find a quiet spot and have that chat with the AI.

* * *

“Genius?”

Rush starts a little. Everett, Camile, and Scott stayed behind in the Mess after their evening meal, and he’s updated them on the AI’s information and the plans being considered by the Science Team. The fact that long range sensors show every appropriate star for refueling in the Badlands have Terminator ships hovering nearby, ready to pounce on them if they stop there to refuel, has cinched the argument for going into stasis before entering their territory. Without the ship’s systems for life support drawing down their energy supplies, they can safely cross the void on minimum power.

It’s late now, and he’s tired. And he can’t stop thinking about the AI’s appearance.

“Aye?” He glances at Everett, who’s giving him one of his ‘you with me?’ looks. “Oh, any last thoughts?”

Scott looks at Camile and they seem to come to some sort of agreement. Nick has a feeling he’s not been very attentive this last half hour as they mulled over what to do with their predicament.

Camile rises and says, “Colonel, I should report in to the IOA tomorrow that we’ll be going into stasis for several years while we cross from this galaxy to the next. The crew will need to be informed also.”

“We’ll have a shipwide meeting first thing tomorrow. We should stock up on supplies as much as we can and find a star to recharge our power levels before the Badlands. Nick, you said in approximately two weeks we’d reach the best place for crossing. So, we’ll use that time to finish up any repairs, and do supply runs. Got a few weddings coming up, too. Can we save some of our plants and seeds?”

Rush stifles a yawn. “Lisa thinks so, she was going to tinker with the stasis pods tonight, do a wee test or two. We have more than enough for the crew and the AI’s given us the information on the storage stasis pods. Like huge freezers, really.” Lisa was very protective of the shipboard gardens, and it would be a shame to lose all their plants and start over again. She was relieved to know her precious plants wouldn’t be dying while they crossed the void.

Scott stands and nods at Everett. “I’ll coordinate with the Science Team on what the foraging teams need to look for on the planets, other than the usual requests for food, wood, and water.”

“Good. You’ll report in to Homeworld Command about this, go with Camile,” Everett says briskly. “Dismissed.”

Camile and Scott leave, and Everett stands, waiting for Rush to get up. Too bad he can’t be arsed to do it. A quick nap right here sounds like a better plan. He starts to slump over, but Everett pulls him up instead.

“You’re beat.”

“Mmmm.”

“Yeah, TJ warned me you’d probably run out of gas.” He pulls one of Rush’s arms over his shoulder, and then they’re walking.

He kind of dozes in between stumbling along, but eventually he finds himself stripped of clothes and boots and tucked into bed. Everett fiddles around the room for a few minutes, undressing and neatly folding his clothes, ducking into the bathroom, turning off the lights.

Rush watches the blue light wash through the room as Destiny continues on her travels. It’s a fuckin’ miracle he’s not asleep yet.

Everett slides into bed with him, warm and his skin is soft. “Ye smell nice,” he mumbles. Everett plants a kiss on his forehead and pulls him close. “Go to sleep, Nick.”

He should. But he keeps coming back to seeing the AI today. “The AI. It looked like me. Me as a little lad. Twas too strange.”

“I know. You were a tough little squirt, judging by how Little Nick acts. I’ve been trying to get him to quit smoking.”

“But why does it look like me? It just gave me one of those, ‘aye, right’ eye rolls when I asked.” Rush sounds a bit plaintive to his own ears. Seeing himself like that. . . Bollocks, it’d been. . . confusing.

Everett snorts a laugh. “Yeah, I know. It’s kind of adorable, but can you imagine the scowl I’d get if I ever said that to him. Or you. You make the same expression, you know.”

“M’ no adorable,” he grumbles. Mumbles, really. God, he’s so tired.

“Uh-huh.” Everett must decide to not tease him about it, and he’s thankful. He’s too tired to give any sort of comeback.

“Nick, the AI told me it hadn’t realized appearing as Gloria was painful to you. It knows you best of all the crew, has had more experience with your mind than any others, except maybe Franklin or Mandy. So it manifested as your Gloria. It’s sorry, in my opinion. It’s appeared as Nicholas Rush age, um? Fourteen, I think, instead of adult you so I wouldn’t get confused that I was talking to it, not you. It didn’t want to cause me the same sort of grief, you see.”

“You like seeing me as a lad?”

“I’ve grown used to it. It’s kind of fun to see you as you remember yourself. But if you think it’s too much, we’ll ask the AI to use someone else. Maybe Franklin?” Everett says it so easily, so accommodating to his feelings.

“Ah, well, let it be, then. The AI likes to match wits wi’ Eli, he said. Could be entertaining.” He yawns, and snuggles closer to his husband. His eyes close and he lets himself slide into sleep.

* * *

There was a flurry of weddings before they were ready to go into stasis. Lots of visits back to Earth, for those who had people there. Greer saw his mother, he’d told Rush, both of them throwing back shots of Brody’s finest. He’d listened as Greer actually talked about how that had made him feel, how much he loved his mum. Maybe in a small way he’d repaid the man for being there for him when he’d fallen apart about being raped by Simeon and the way he’d had to kill the man. Greer had thought Rush had done well tricking Simeon by giving him a deadly blow job. He’d not looked askance at him, had held him and let him cry it out when he’d been so exhausted and sickened by everything he’d had to do to let Everett retake the ship and save himself and Lisa.

Everett had asked Rush if he wanted to go with him when he used the stones to say goodbye to his brothers and their families. He’d thought about it, he really had, but in the end decided to stay on board. He didn’t trust Stargate Command or the IOA not to keep him there, trapped in someone else’s body. He’d had more than enough of that when he’d traded with David, back when David was still Kiva’s brainwashed flunky. Everett didn’t press him, bless the man.

He’d teared up at Chloe’s wedding, standing in for her father as she and Matthew exchanged vows. Luckily, Eli did the same, so a mutual glance between them ensured there’d be no teasing from either side. He’d danced with the bride, Chloe flushed and laughing, and so very, very happy. He’d handed her over to her husband, and found himself dancing with a new partner, his own husband.

It was somewhat surprising to find he was having a good time, and he found himself talking easily to crew members, enjoying the party. Well, it had been rather well lubricated by Brody’s hooch.

Now, at the end of their final dinner, just a few of them, the last ones waiting to go into stasis, they talked about everything and anything. Rush found his thoughts drifting back to when Everett and most of this bunch were celebrating surviving Destiny’s plunging into a star. Everett had tried to include him, in his own heavy-handed way, but Rush hadn’t been in the mood or trusted that Colonel Young wouldn’t use the occasion to shower him with his disapproval.

Maybe if he had sat down back then, the truce between him and Everett could have happened a lot sooner. Maybe they’d have communicated better, trusted each other more, no need for a mutiny or framing Colonel Young for Spencer’s death by hiding the gun in the Colonel’s room. No reason then for the beating Colonel Young had given him, or abandoning him on a planet to be found and tortured by the Nakai.

“Hey, Genius, you okay?”

“What?”

“You were lost in thought, Nick, and it didn’t look like they were very happy ones.” Everett’s brows draw together in concern. He leans in closer. “Want to take a last stroll around Destiny?”

“Aye.”

The group agrees on when to meet at the stasis chambers and the others begin to clear the table. Eli and Matthew will shut down systems on the Bridge, Chloe decides she wants to tidy up her and Matthew’s quarters, not wanting to come out of stasis and deal with a messy room.

Everett takes his hand when they leave the Mess. They walk for a while, in companionable silence, till they reach the Observation Deck and by now the established chapel for all the weddings, not to mention a fair amount of dates and meetings of various clubs.

They stand by the railing, watching as Destiny flies through this galaxy, headed for the void in between their next galaxy.

Rush sighs. “I was thinking that I should have accepted your offer to join with you and some of the others, back when we’d survived the first star. Maybe we could have found a way to get along sooner. Maybe a lot o’ terrible things wouldn’t have happened.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Nick, don’t beat yourself up over maybes.” Everett pulls him closer.

“I didn’t trust you really meant that goodwill. I thought you’d rake me over the coals for whatever you were holding against me if I did join you. But I misjudged you, and made things worse, didn’t I? You thought then it’d been a trick of mine, that I knew we’d survive the star. I’m sorry, Everett.”

“Hey, I’m sorry too. We were being loud and I’m sure obnoxious and you were exhausted. I can look back now and see that. So why would you want to subject yourself to our racket? Eli stuck up for you, after you’d left. He insisted that you hadn’t known we’d be okay. I should have listened to him. I think we can safely say we both were jerks and many mistakes were made by both of us. It’s okay, Nick. We got here in the end.”

Everett kisses him then, and they stand together, Everett wrapping his arms around him, till it’s time to meet the others.

* * *

One last kiss, Destiny’s corridors dark and cold, already on energy saving protocols, and they separate into their stasis pods. They are the last ones and will be the first ones to be awoken, once they enter the new galaxy and have found a suitable star to recharge.

Everett looks at him, across the corridor, a smile on his face. Impulsively, wondering even as he does it if he’s gone daft, Rush kisses his own palm and places it against the pod window facing Everett. Everett nods to him and pushes the control to freeze him into stasis.

Rush does the same, and before he can even complete another thought, everything stops.

* * *

They emerge from stasis smoothly, no mishaps with the pods, everyone alive and unharmed. Lisa is itching to restart the gardens, and Eli and Volker are put to finding a suitable star, while Brody and Rush take on an extensive check of all of Destiny’s systems, from the recycling of their waste to the Apple Core’s consoles. Ginn and Chloe are looking over the information amassed during their time in the void between galaxies. Camile and Mathew use the stones to check in with Stargate Command and the IOA.

They had been in stasis for almost four years.

It’s the AI who alerts them to the danger waiting for them. Smoking a cigarette, sitting cross-legged on top of a console on the Bridge, he flicks illusionary ashes away and refuses to tell the hastily assembled Science Team anything more until Colonel Young, Scott, TJ, James, and Greer joins them.

“Little Nick,” Everett says, walking onto the Bridge. “Report.”

The AI gives them all his customary eye roll and waves an arm in a dramatic way. Suddenly, bright stars appear in a huge projection.

The AI points a finger at the edge of the stars and a tiny yellow dot appears. “That’s Destiny’s position.” He waves his hand again, in a careless motion. “An’ these are Nakai sensors plastered by every available star for refueling.”

Twinkling red lights blanket much of the projection. Rush runs some quick calculations in his head. This isna good. They’ll need to refuel before they pass this barricade the Nakai have erected. But these are just sensors, maybe they can swoop in, refuel, and go back into FTL before the Nakai come to investigate. There’s another option, but it’s very hazardous. Still, needs must.

“Sensors,” Eli says. “If we approach, they’ll--”

“They’ll notify this,” the AI interrupts and points a finger again at the projection. A brilliant orange dot blazes into existence. “That is a Nakai ship. It’s fuckin’ huge. Likely contains smaller ships that can peel off if we try to trigger several sensors by sending shuttles to different stars.”

Rush says, “What about a hotter star? If these are off limits, we could try to adapt Destiny to fly through one o’ those. We’d have to send most of the crew to a planet to wait safely. It’d be dicey, though. If we miscalculate, we could burn up.”

“Aye, I considered that too.” The AI takes another drag on his cigarette, the smoke lazily wafting over to Eli, who bats at the wisps surrounding his face. “Watch.”

The AI snaps his fingers, and more stars shine from the projection. “These purple stars are hotter than Destiny should use. We’re no the only ones who considered that option.” Next to every one of the new stars was a smaller blue dot. “The bloody Nakai have sensors planted on every star, even the ones that aren’t ideal, in such a wide band that we can’t pass them before running out of energy.”

Everett squares his shoulders. “Looks like we’ll have to fight our way out, then, unless someone has any other ideas?”

“Disable the sensors somehow? Drop out just long enough to scoop one up and see if we can find a weakness?” Eli asks.

Rush nods. “Aye, but remember we’ll only have sublight engines for three hours after we drop out. It’s likely the Nakai will find us before we can jump away. Might as well do it all, drop out, grab the sensor, enter the star and likely fight our way free on exiting. I think if we do pull that off, the Nakai may extend their sensor net to cover where we’re likely to drop out for the next refueling.”

There’s silence on the Bridge. Lisa protectively cradles her belly, where her unborn child nestles., Greer slides his arm around her shoulders. Ginn and Eli reach for each other’s hands, grip them tightly, as do Chloe and Matthew Scott on the other side of the group. Rush and Everett exchange glances. Volker stares at the projection; Brody’s eyes are firmly on the monitor in front of him. James and TJ move closer, till they are shoulder to shoulder.

Matthew breaks the quietude. “We could go back into stasis if we make it through refueling. Try to outrun the Nakai.”

Rush nods and Everett nods back. It’s a good point.

“We’ll need all the weapons systems to be online and 100 percent ready,” Everett says, his no nonsense command voice a comfort. “For now, we’ll go with what Rush said, and Lieutenant Scott’s point on returning to stasis afterwards. Scott, get with Brody and Greer about the weapons. Rush, see if you, the AI and the rest of the Science Team can get some calculations on which star to go for, how to grab a sensor and what the hell to do with it once it’s on board, where Destiny is navigating us toward and how long is long enough to be in stasis again. Everybody clear on their assignments?”

Nods and quiet assents are the response. Rush glances at the AI. His own quite young face looks back, shrugs.

“Let’s get to work, people,” Everett says.

They do. It’s a somber mood the crew is in. Camile returns and turns right around to report their new problems. Crew members start a list on her door requesting time on the stones. People want to see their families back on Earth.

He and Everett make love that evening. He doesn’t say it to Everett, but he doesn’t have to. They’ll be facing death, with only a slim chance of surviving. If, or much more likely, when, they fight the Nakai, he wants to remember this night.

He wants to feel Everett’s love on his skin. He wants it rough. He wants it gentle. He wants Everett to mark him with his mouth, his hands, so that he can put his own fingers on any bruises, any scratches, any hickeys sucked onto his skin if it comes to dying.

And Everett wants that, too. He can tell by the way they stroke each other, the passionate biting kisses that turn tender.

He whispers into Everett’s ear what he wants this night.

Everett prepares him carefully, lovingly. He tells him how beautiful he is, how smart and clever, how brave.

He enters him with reverence that drives toward a crescendo that has Rush sweating and shaking, trembling with need, and he loves this man. His disjointed phrases as Everett fucks him into a delirium makes his lover chuckle as Rush praises the many reasons he loves him.

He no longer is making any sense as he babbles what he’s feeling. Everett’s name is a fuckin’ prayer and he screams it when he comes, and Everett keeps fucking him, fucking him and he’s helpless in the most sensational fuckin’ way as Everett’s own orgasm is building, his rough breathing, how hard he feels inside him, and Rush is overstimulated and shocks of pleasure are edging into feeling too much ; and if he was pleasuring himself he’d stop then, but it isn’t up to him, and he can’t even talk anymore, but he can still scream.

Everett comes then and relaxes until he’s lying on Rush, heavy and solid and there, his penis still hard within him. Rush’s pelvis is raised by several pillows as he needed to see Everett’s face while they fucked, and he’s not gonna move for the next century.

Ah, well. Maybe he means in a wee bit. He lets his legs drop back to the bed, from where he’d had them clenched around Everett’s body.

Everett’s murmuring in his ear, “You okay, Genius?”

Rush sighs, exhausted now. “Ye were pure dead brilliant. I love you, and if we make it through this latest mess, I’m gonna take you apart the way you just did to me.”

Everett snorts a laugh. “Go for it, Nick. And I love you too.” They lay there in a comfortable silence, until Everett slides out of him and the pillows are rearranged, and Everett has fished his own T-shirt off the floor instead of Rush’s to haphazardly clean themselves up. Rush is absurdly pleased about that.

He yawns and gets as close as he possibly can to Everett, and closes his eyes. Tomorrow they’ll finalize their plans and head for their date with the Nakai.

* * *

They entire Science Team is on the Bridge, plus Greer, James, and Matthew. Brody has all their attention, reporting on their massive guns. They still can’t fire them the way originally intended by the Ancients. There’s a work around for that, though, and he isn’t the only one who’s come to that conclusion. Everyone starts to talk at once, and discussions about their options are veering into downright arguments.

Rush tells them all politely to shut their gobs for a bloody minute while he checks over Brody’s work. Everyone goes quiet. He types in a request for the AI’s help and the next moment the boy is standing next to him, with a black eye and a cut on his forehead, too big clothes stained with dirt.

“Really,” Rush mutters to the AI. “Ye can’t pick a time when I wasn’t a bloody mess?"

The AI shrugs. “But ye were ‘a bloody mess’ a good bit of that year. If it helps, the daft git who jumped you looked worse.”

Rush nods thoughtfully. “Aye, he did.” He shakes his head and decides to just move on. “The big guns can only be operated by someone sitting in the chair?”

“Aye,” the AI says. “For now. It’ll take a fair bit of work to fix that. Time ye no have.”

Everett jogs onto the Bridge and nods to Matthew and throws Rush a look that says he’s in for a scolding.

“What?” he hisses under his breath when Everett moves next to him. “I was going to radio you, just got distracted with the arguments from that lot over there and this one looking like ten miles o’ bad road.” The AI smirks at Rush and Everett.

“Sure, Nick. And just where is that radio?”

Rush starts, pats his sides. “Bollocks. Must have left it in our room.”

“We’ll cover that later. Lieutenant Scott said when he radioed me to come here that to use the big guns someone has to sit in the chair.”

“Brody and the AI say so, and I’ve not found a different answer.”

“It’s not gonna be you,” Everett says firmly.

“I’m the best one, the one most familiar with the chair, and you know it, Colonel Young,” Rush says, both irked at the protectiveness of his husband and feeling warmed by it at the same time. Bloody hell.

“Rush,” Everett says, his eyes narrowing and his hands grip Rush’s biceps. “After last time, after you damn near died, you’re not going near that thing and that’s final. We need you, Doctor. Don’t fight me on this, Nick.”

He swallows down the words that would tear and hurt Everett. “Perhaps there’s something we’ve overlooked. Maybe the crew from Haven who joined us could help. Maybe we can delay dropping out till the controls from the Bridge are fixed.”

Beside him the AI shakes his head. “Ye don’t have the time. We need to find a star and recharge very, very soon. I can try and be a buffer to whoever sits in the chair, but I no can promise it will keep them safe. Ye aren’t Ancients.”

“Colonel? Rush,” Brody says, his voice firm. “I’ll sit in the chair. I know these systems almost as well as Rush does and the Colonel is right. You can’t sit in it, you’re too vulnerable from the last time when you almost fried your brain. TJ’s not going to approve either. You’re done, Rush.”

“But,” Rush says, then trails off, feeling out maneuvered. Christ, TJ would have no qualms giving him a shot to put him out if there’s the slightest chance he’d blow off Everett’s orders and sit himself in the chair.

“I’m not married, engaged, or expecting a kid. I volunteer,” Brody says. Greer reaches out to him and clasps his arm in the way he only does with those he respects. Volker’s eyes are wide and he’s biting his lip. Rush feels a surge of empathy for Volker because Brody is probably the best friend the man’s ever had.

“All right,” he agrees, not a bit graciously. He supposes it’s for the Greater Good, but he’s not as fond of that philosophy as he once was. “Get with the AI and learn every fuckin’ thing there is to know about the chair and the guns.”

The AI starts to move towards the exit to the corridor, beckoning Brody to come along when it stops suddenly.

“Rush, Colonel Young,” it says, sounding surprised. “There’s an incoming message and it’s addressed to Destiny.”

The Science Team exchange puzzled glances. The military crew look to Everett.

“From Haven?” Everett asks.

“No,” the AI answers, his expression guarded and tense. “By every measure I can use, its origin is the Nakai ship.”

“Colonel?” Eli says, having moved to a communications console. “Do I acknowledge this message?”

Rush looks at Everett and nods. Everett nods back, and straightens his spine. “Let it play, Eli. Let’s find out what the Nakai want. Chloe, stand by. You’ve got the best shot of any translation.”

Eli touches the console and a clear voice in English says, “Destiny, this is Chloe. Repeat, this is Chloe. Please, please, please if you can hear this answer me. I’ve been waiting a long, long time for you. Repeat, this is Chloe Armstrong Scott. Please answer me, please.”

Shocked faces turn to Everett.

Multiple voices start speaking over each other.

“It could be a trick.”

“The Nakai may be forcing her to do this.”

“How the hell would Chloe, the Chloe from Haven, be alive after this many years?”

“Maybe the message is from a long time ago?”

Rush feels stunned. If this is Chloe, Chloe who was taken from Haven by the Nakai thousands of years ago, she’s been with the Nakai for a long time. Would she even be sane? Did the Nakai experiment on her for all these years?

If there’s even a chance this is really Chloe, well, the double of Chloe, they can’t leave her with the Nakai. God, they can’t. Suddenly he feels like he’s back in that tank, wearing that rubber suit the Nakai had dressed him in after stripping him of his clothes and doing their fuckin’ experiments on him. He touches the scar under his shirt, where they had implanted a tracker.

Everett is there, putting his arms around Rush. He leans back against Everett’s broad chest, uncaring that everyone on the bridge can see them.

In a steady voice, Everett says, “Answer her, Eli. We don’t leave our people behind.”

* * *

Chapter 48: Change

Everett has heard the stories, of course.

Multiple versions of SGI from parallel universes had crowded into Cheyenne Mountain that one time. Jack O’Neill had been cloned by a renegade Asgardian who left him to deal with a teenaged version of himself. SGI had been thrown back and forth through time when a solar flare had screwed up using the stargate.

He’d seen plenty of weirdness, too.

Most recently, meeting the descendants of Destiny’s crew who were duplicated when dialing Earth while powering up in a star.

They’d all left the ship, except for Nick, who had stayed on the doomed ship to send the others hopefully safely back to Earth. Instead they’d been sent three thousand years back in time, surviving to raise up Haven’s civilization.

Everett still felt grief over the other Nicholas Rush’s death. He’d been Nick in every way, essentially. Shaken and in need of comfort, pushing himself to help when he should have been kept in the Infirmary. Instead he met his death in a terrible accident with David’s double.

It was enough to give a man a migraine, all these doubles.

Now, he was about to meet Chloe’s alternate, and not just her. When the Nakai had taken Chloe, the Chloe who had been stranded on Haven, she’d been pregnant.

* * *

As it turned out, the message from Chloe had been a recording. Once Eli had responded to Chloe’s initial message, a second message from her had been sent.

“Destiny, this is Chloe. Oh my God, you guys! You came. You really came. So listen. This message and the first one are recordings. I’m in stasis aboard the Nakai ship. I channeled my inner Dr. Rush and rigged the stasis chamber to wake me up if my initial message got a response from Destiny. The process will take a few minutes, please, don’t leave without talking to me. I’ve got a plan. Oh, and me and my children are the only ones alive on this ship. The Nakai crew are dead. I’ll explain soon, please don’t leave.”

The crew on the Bridge had looked at each other, expressions shifting from surprise to suspicion. Everett had sighed and asked them to voice their opinions.

Greer, Scott, and Brody had said it could be a trap. Chloe might not even be alive, the Nakai hoping Destiny would reveal itself to rescue her and they would attack.

Eli had shaken his head, saying, “So many questions. Like, just who does she think is on Destiny? As far as Haven’s Chloe knew, only Dr. Rush was still on board. That Destiny was destroyed, we know that. But how would she know that? And if she did think it was destroyed in the star what makes her think that due to Timey-Wimey shenanigans, a second Destiny survived with all the crew?” He had turned to Chloe, who had looked dazed, clutching Matthew’s hand, “Would you have figured all of that out?”

Chloe had just given Eli a helpless look. She’d said, “From the records we saw from Haven, there was a lot of speculation about what happened to their Destiny. Some people thought the ship had been destroyed, others that it had made it and was sailing on through the years with Dr. Rush as a supernatural being at the helm and he would eventually arrive and take them back to Earth. Or hell, because he became a demon. I don’t know what the other Chloe believed though. I haven’t read anything about what she thought would happen.”

Lisa said, sounding horrified, “She’s got kids on that ship. What if the Nakai experimented on them, too? We can’t leave them, we can’t!”

Volker had said, slowly, obviously thinking as he talked, “If the Nakai are dead, why did she stay on the ship? Why not try to get back to Haven or some other planet?”

Chloe, their Chloe, looking pale, eyes wide, had said, “Maybe she doesn’t know how to fly the ship? I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know what to say.” Matthew had drawn her into a hug.

Nick had moved away from where he’d been leaning against Everett. “If we go by the Greater Good, it’d be best not to risk the ship.”

Everett had cocked an eyebrow at him. Wait for it, he’d told himself. Once he’d have responded back with fury, assuming Dr. Rush was just a cold-hearted bastard. He knew better now.

Nick had crossed his arms over his chest, scowling. “But fuck the Greater Good. Chloe is a smart lass, and she’d have found some way to warn us with her message if there was danger to the ship. If she’s not dead herself, then we’ll know more when she contacts us. She can answer all of your questions, Eli, so keep monitoring for her next transmission. Volker and Ginn, plot us a course to the nearest star by the Nakai ship. Brody, go with the AI. We might not need the guns to help out Chloe, but we need them ready to use in any case.”

“Mind if I give some orders, Dr. Rush?” Everett had said mildly, prompting an eye-roll from his husband and an arm wave that indicated Everett had the floor.

“Be my guest, Colonel,” Nick had said, sitting down at a station with an air of ‘get on with it.’

 

* * *

“I don’t like it,” Nick had hissed at him, coming to stand next to him, after they’d talked to Haven’s Chloe again and plans had been made. “It shouldn’t be you flying over there! You’re the bloody commander of this ship, not some hot shot fly-boy!”

Everett had elbowed Nick gently. “What? I can’t be both?”

“Oh, shut it,” Nick had grumbled. “I should go with you, at least. I’ve actually been on a Nakai ship before.”

“So have I, Genius. Remember who got you out of that tank? This is not negotiable, Nick. I need you here. Matthew is too compromised to fly the shuttle over to pick up Haven’s Chloe. And it’s not like we have an abundance of pilots on board. Bottom line, it’s on me to make sure this isn’t a trap. I’m not going to ask anyone else to make that decision or jeopardize anyone else’s life.”

Nick had gripped Everett’s jacket, the new one the manufactory had produced. His old jacket Nick still kept, although he didn’t wear it as much. Mostly on the few days he’d had when he’d struggled with memories of his time with his kidnappers or the Lucians, he’d wrap himself up in it, soothing himself by fingering the small screwdriver he’d hidden in a cuff.

“You’d best come back in one piece, Colonel Young,” Nick had said angrily, then pulled Everett down into a ferocious kiss.

When Nick had pulled away and stalked off the Bridge, Everett glanced around the room. Everyone was studiously ignoring him, except for Chloe. She hesitantly walked over and took his hand.

“If the other me is setting you up for a trap, Colonel, don’t. . . .” Chloe had taken a deep breath. “Don’t you hesitate to do what you need to do, because she looks like me. Promise me that, okay?”

“I’m not going to jeopardize the safety of this crew, Chloe. I promise.” He gave her hand a firm squeeze and released her.

“Ginn,” he had called out. “What’s our ETA on arriving at the star.

* * *

Nick waits for him by the shuttle docking station, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall. The expression on his face is stormy. Everett wants to reassure him that nothing will happen, but they’ve made promises to be honest with each other.

“Hi,” he says softly to Nick.

“Hello,” Nick responds. There’s the slightest hint of tears in his eyes.

“Nick,” Everett says, “this is the job.” He keeps his voice soft.

“I’m aware.”

“I’ll do my best to make it back to you.” He steps over to Nick and pulls him into a tight hug. Nick grips him back like he never wants to let go.

Finally, Nick’s arms relax. “You’re to no take chances, Everett Young. I love Chloe but, ye must remember, she might not be Chloe anymore.”

“You know I have to find out. She said in her last message to us that she’s going to destroy the Nakai sensors around the stars that we’ve seen. She’s also going to set a timer once we meet up to blow up the ship. She’ll time it for when we’re back on Destiny.”

Nick says, “The timing is important, yes.” Haven’s Chloe had been adamant about that as they’d talked once she’d come out of stasis.

“You know she kept refusing to come over to Destiny.”

“Aye, and that does sound like our Chloe. She was afraid that the Nakai would track her down again and she didn’t want to put us or the ship in danger.”

Over the radio, Haven’s Chloe had burst into tears when she was told that there was a retro virus she could be given that would strip out the Nakai genes. They’d heard loud sobbing that had her gasping for breath, for long long minutes. ‘My babies,’ she had kept wailing. Finally she had calmed down. She gave coordinates for the shuttle to dock with the Nakai ship and said she would be waiting there with her twin boys.

“As soon as we’re out of FTL, she’ll turn off the sensor by the star we’ll use to recharge. You’ll head to the Nakai ship while we recharge, and we’ll pick you and the lass and her babes up when we emerge. She’ll set timers to destroy the other sensors and the ship once you four are back on board, we’ll jump back into FTL. She thinks that another Nakai ship might come by to see why the ship isn’t communicating with their Hive, but we should be well away by then, and can get supplies next time we’ll drop out.”

Everett smiled. “Yeah, that’s the plan, Nick.” The entire Command Team and Science Team had gone over all of this several times, looking for any holes, any weaknesses. Nick was anxious, and this was how he reassured himself, let alone Everett, by saying it all again.

“All right then. And you’re positive you need to do this alone? Couldn’t you at least take Greer with you?” Nick bites his lower lip, stiffens his shoulders. He’s steeling himself to say goodbye, Everett can see that.

“If this is some kind of trap, then I want Greer here. Nick, I need to get ready. But can I do something really corny first?”

Nick eyes him. “Is it as ridiculous as winning me a stuffed toy at a carnival?”

“I guess that’s up to you to decide, Genius.” Everett slips his dogtags over his head, releases one and presses it into Nick’s hand. “I’d really like it if you’d keep that, Nicholas.”

Nick stares at him, and his eyes well up. He nods, and voice thick with emotion, says “Aye. I will. Everett, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Nick kisses him then like his life depends on it.

He can still taste Nick on his lips later, as the ship drops out of FTL and heads for the star, and he flies the shuttle to either a trap, or a rescue.

Hours later, the Nakai ship is looming ahead of him, and he heads for the coordinates Haven’s Chloe had given him.

* * *

He takes the time to strap on a tactical vest, and makes sure his weapon is loaded, points it at the door before allowing it to open onto the docking port of the Nakai ship.

The lighting is dim, and he steps through carefully. It’s a no man’s land area, and the door to the shuttle closes behind him. Before him is a door that opens into the Nakai ship.

“Colonel Young?” Chloe’s voice breaks that silence, but she’s in the Nakai ship, he hears her through speakers. “I’m here. I can see you through the monitors and I see the gun. Please don’t shoot me? I have my boys with me. I don’t want them hurt; I’m going to put them into another room, and then we can talk. Give me just a minute.”

He hears her talking softly to her sons, hears a pouty, ‘but mama’ and some sniffling. Chloe’s voice is firm but kind. She promises them it will only be for a short time, then they can meet her friend.

He waits and wonders if he has the guts to take her out if she does prove to be a threat. She sounds like. . . well, Chloe.

“I’m unarmed, Colonel. I’ll do anything you deem necessary to prove I’m not some kind of threat. I’m standing about ten feet from the door. The controls to open it are on the wall. Just. . . please? If you decide to kill me, please, please don’t let my babies die here with me. They’re innocent. This retro virus, Lisa said it would take out the Nakai genes. They’re just babies. They haven’t lived with it for ages like I have. They can go back to just being human again.”

“Okay, Chloe. Hands up on top of your head. No sudden movements.” He pushes the obvious sign for opening the door on the control panel and advances out cautiously, gun trained on her, eyes sweeping the room. The smell in the air, the dim lights, the strange language on walls and by doors, it’s like the other Nakai ship he’d been on when he’d involuntarily switched with a Nakai that had been holding the stone Nick had swiped.

Chloe’s got tears running down her face, and she looks older than their Chloe. Maybe about thirty or so. The Nakai markings don’t look much different, though.

“God, I’m such a crier,” Chloe sobs. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Talk to me. You said the Nakai are all dead. How?”

“I killed them. I remembered what Dr. Rush did to the Lucians in their rooms, and I. . . I did something similar. You see, once I was taken and interrogated and they learned who I was and how I ended up on Haven, they put me to work as part of the crew. The Nakai, they function as a hive, and everybody works. Even me. I was really good at navigation, something about the way the Nakai and human genes worked together in my mind. I had value to them, so they kept me alive. I learned their systems. I learned ways around their controls. When we went into stasis, after the boys were born and they’d had the same treatments I had, so that the Nakai genes would take hold, I tricked them. They can’t conceive of betrayal from each other and they considered me one of them. I killed them while they were in stasis.”

“How?”

Chloe shudders. “I wrote a program that I would awaken after everyone else had been in stasis, before any Nakai would be alerted to wake up. I felt terrible when I allowed them all to die in stasis, but I couldn’t let them trap you! They knew, because I knew you were coming, and if they directly engage my mind, they know my thoughts. I knew the original crew survived, and from what I knew of Destiny’s overall plans on completing the mission, that they would cross to this galaxy and the approximate path Destiny would take. They took that information from me. That’s why they made the barricade. Why the sensors at every possible star Destiny might use to refuel. Why this ship stayed here, all these years. I couldn’t just destroy everything too early! The Nakai would have known and sent out another ship and remake the traps.”

Her eyes are huge and hiccupping sobs start shaking her thin body. She’s dressed in that same rubbery outfit her and Nick had worn when they’d escaped from the other Nakai ship.

“Chloe, calm down. Take some deep breaths.” She just gives him such a pitiful look, that he makes his decision. If this was a trap, he didn’t see the point of the Nakai waiting to spring it.

He puts the gun away and steps over to Chloe, who throws her arms around him and he hugs her tight, for all the years she’s been alone.

For a time, he holds her, lets her cry it out, but at last she sniffs hard, and steps back. She’s a mess, eyes red and watery, and she fishes out a piece of fabric or paper out of a pocket and blows her nose.

Still with hitching sobs, she says, “I know this is crazy. But we’re safe right now. As least if I was still alive, the communication with the mother planet was maintained. They’re a very patient and obsessed society, the Nakai. They live extremely long, too. Partly that’s why I’ve lived so long without aging much, I guess. That and I’ve been in stasis for very long periods of time. I know you have more questions. I’ll answer all of them. But I need to get my children. They’re very young, and they’re going to be scared.”

He nods, and follows her to an adjoining room. She opens it and kneels down, and two kids, black haired, about maybe three years old, rush into her arms. They’re crying a little, but softly. Everett wonders if Chloe has had to train them to not be loud, not to annoy their captors. She hugs them, soothes with the universal sounds all mothers seem to make to upset babies, then stands up, holding their hands. One of them tries to climb up her leg, demanding to be held. She picks him up, holds the other kid’s hand tightly.

They are like Chloe, he sees the blue scales on the arms, what looks like a vine design on their necks. It’s where the Nakai genes have changed them.

“Boys, this is my old friend, Colonel Young. I knew him a long time ago. Colonel, this is Jason Barnes,” she shifts the boy in her arms, “and this is his twin, Jared Barnes.” Both boys bury their faces against Chloe. He’s the first human they’ve ever seen, he guesses, except for their mother.

“Hi, kids,” he says. “Chloe, you ready to blow this popsicle stand?” Jared is watching him with one eye, but as soon as Everett looks directly at him, he hides his face again.

Chloe shifts the little boy in her arms. “Our stuff is by the door. I packed some things I thought the Science Team would want to see, and the boys’ things. It’s not much, some toys I made for them, their blankets. I thought it would help them feel better on Destiny, to have some things that were familiar.”

“You’ve got the ship taken care of, the sensors near the stars?”

“Yes. It’s all programmed, it’ll be set off after Destiny comes out of the star. I just have to set the countdown. As far as the rest of the Nakai are aware, the crew is still in stasis, the ship is in standby mode. The charade that this Nakai outpost is still here, waiting to capture Destiny, will be over when it explodes, and they will send out a ship to investigate. We should jump back into FTL right away.”

“Let’s go. We can talk more on the way back, and there’s food and clothes for you and the boys. Well, more like small T-shirts for the boys. Chloe was insistent that you’d want to change asap.”

Chloe hurries back into the other room, nods toward the small pile of belongings alongside the wall. “Your Chloe, and yes, she was right. Is this going to be weird, both of us being on the ship? Dumb question, I guess.” She puts Jason down, shushing him when he starts to protest. Jared puts his arms around his brother. “Mama’s got to work the controls, boys. Be good for me, stay right by me.”

Everett moves the storage cubes into the docking chamber, Chloe joins him with her sons, closing the portal into the Nakai ship, and shivers. He opens the portal where the shuttle is waiting. “Get the boys squared away, while I stow your gear.

When he’s done and taken the pilot’s seat, the boys are in their T-shirts and strapped in on either side of Chloe, the seats nearest the front. She must have broken a record in how fast she ditched the rubber Nakai suit for the outfit their Chloe had sent along. He closes the shuttle doors, undocks, and heads for the coordinates where they’ll rejoin with Destiny. He’d radio them but since they’re refueling in the star, but it would just be static.

Chloe smiles at him, and it’s weary, and tired and he wonders how she kept her sanity all these years. Still, he’s got questions.

“Chloe. How did you know that Destiny was still even in one piece? That there was still a crew on board? When you’d gone through the stargate to Haven, you couldn’t have known that there was a time discrepancy, that there were two Destinys. Yours, the Destiny you left from, was burned up in the star. Too many systems failed from the dialing attempt.”

“I didn’t know, Colonel, not on Haven or even when the Nakai found me. It’s going to sound crazy, but I was told you’d all survived and would be coming this way. It was the aliens who sent the shuttle back to Destiny, with those poor people who’d died and they’d revived for a time. They told me shortly after I was taken on board the Nakai ship.”

“That was thousands of years ago.”

Chloe nods. “I know.”

* * *

Nick is waiting for them in the corridor when he docks the shuttle and ushers Chloe and her kids out into the corridor. He’s not alone, of course. Their Chloe is there with Matthew, Eli, Greer, and TJ.

“Hi?” Haven’s Chloe says, looking at them all. “Oh my god! This is so strange, seeing all of you. You’re all so young!”

When she looks at their Chloe again, tears start to escape. “You’re really free?” Her boys are clutching her knees. They’d slept on the way back and are groggy now, rubbing their eyes.

Their Chloe steps up to her and they throw their arms around each other and there is mutual crying. Nick comes to him and pulls him down into a fierce kiss. Everett kisses him back with all the love and reassurance that he wants Nick to feel.

Finally, Nick pulls back, looks at him intently. “You’re sure she’s not compromised?”

“My gut instinct says she’s okay. TJ?” He nods towards the crying fest. “The sooner they’re given the retro virus, the better.”

TJ takes over, ushering the group towards the Infirmary. Their Chloe is carrying one boy, Haven’s Chloe is carrying the other one. Greer is there for security reasons, but Eli and Matthew trail along.

Before they are out of hearing, he hears Haven’s Chloe say, “Did Dr. Rush really kiss Colonel Young? Or did I just hallucinate that? I mean, at your wedding, Eli, things between them seemed like they were heating up. Are they together?”

It’s Eli who starts babbling about him and Nick, and their ‘epic bromance-romance’, as they turn into a corridor.

Rush is scowling, but there’s a smile hiding underneath it.

Everett takes the opportunity, since they’re alone now, to repeat the kiss and then add on a few encores. Nick’s face is flushed, he looks dazed, and he’s so beautiful. He can’t resist kissing him again. There’s a chain around Nick’s neck and under his shirt. He knows what it will be, and he pulls up the dog tag he’d given to Nick, feeling a powerful impulse of wanting Nick, right here, right now, wanting to push him up against the wall, stripping him until he’s naked except for his dog tag. He wants to fuck him, make him become incoherent with pleasure.

Instead, he gently places the dog tag against Nick’s chest, straightens his shirt for him.

“Dr. Rush,” he says. “We’ll take this back up later, if you’re willing.”

Nick shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear out the feelings of want and need that are so clear on his face. “Aye, well, we’d best get to the Bridge now. We need to go to FTL, see if the Nakai ship blows up as promised.”

* * *

An hour after they’re back in FTL, Destiny’s IA appears on the Bridge. Little Nick takes a puff on the dangling cigarette hanging from his lip, coughs, and drops it to the deck, putting it out with his foot. At least he’s not black and blue this time.

“Colonel, Dr. Rush.” He scans the Bridge taking in the other people at their stations. “Crew.”

“What is it?” Everett asks.

“Thought you’d like to see this.” With a wave of his arm, the map of the barricade appears again, the blue dots by every star they might have used to refuel. As one, they all blink out of existence. “Happened just a moment ago, this is the replay, obviously.” He points to the bright orange dot that represents the Nakai ship. “An’ good riddance.” The orange dot flares suddenly and is gone.

Nick makes an interested sound. “Can ye enlarge that up a bit and replay it? Also, are the sensors destroyed or just deactivated?”

Little Nick rolls his eyes. It’s amusing to see Nick getting his own dismissive expression aimed at himself, and Everett allows a quick grin before dousing it. From the sharp glance he gets from Nick, he’s pretty sure he wasn’t fast enough.

“The sensors are most thoroughly destroyed.” The AI points to where he’s made the Nakai ship large enough to see the shape of it. “Watch now.” The ship explodes so completely that any debris has to be miniscule. “Haven’s Chloe didna lie to ye. I’ll be watching for any new Nakai ships that come to investigate. The lass is sure they will.”

Nick moves close to Everett so they can talk quietly. “We can go on for a while with the supplies we have, but within a month, we’re going to want to resupply on a planet. Lisa can restart hydroponics, but it won’t be enough.”

The AI snorts, evidentially able to hear them. “The crew won’t starve. There’s plenty of likely planets along the path the mission takes us. Ye have most of six years before this galaxy is crossed, then it’ll be back into stasis for you lot, as the coming void will take near a hundred years to cross.”

Everett tucks away the feeling of foreboding when it comes to that void in their future. They all know it’s coming. There’s no help for it, and the knowledge that everyone they now know on Earth will be gone when they come out of stasis once again.

The AI shrugs his skinny shoulders. “But, as I’ve heard Colonel Young say, ‘We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.’”

He squints at Nick. “I’ll release the mission data now that our new crew member is here to help. Your minds weren’t advanced enough to take it in, although Dr. Rush comes closest to the mind of an Ancient. But Haven’s Chloe, the changes the Nakai have made, enhanced by all the years she’s lived, stasis or no, I believe she can sort it out. Dr. Rush and your Chloe can help, once she’s translated it down to your level. Eli as well.”

Beside him Nick glares at the AI. “I want to smack him, Everett. The arrogant little--”

Everett interrupts him. “Oh, I think he’s cute, in his own feral way.”

Both Nick and the AI give him identical looks of disgust. In tandem, they both spit out a denial of any cuteness. The AI sniffs and announces he’s sent them navigational information and that there’s a planet that will do that they will reach in three weeks. Then he’s gone, leaving a lingering whiff of cigarette smoke.

* * *

The crew settle back into a routine quickly enough, and welcome Haven’s Chloe and her boys into their lives. The retro virus works without any problems, and the entire crew is relieved that the Nakai can’t track them through Haven’s Chloe. The two Chloes get along amazingly well, and once Chloe Anne, as Haven’s Chloe asked to be called, is through with the retro virus treatment, she takes on the task the AI has given her.

Nick was annoyed at first, that the AI had passed him over as the lead on the research Destiny’s been collecting through the long, long years of exploring the universe. But once he sees the incredible work of deciphering the almost incomprehensible data, he has no problem with accepting that Chloe Anne is indeed, the best one of the crew suited to do this.

It’s the work of a lifetime, he tells Everett, to translate what Destiny has learned. Chloe and Eli are also on the research team, and the four of them spend hours immersed in mathematical gibberish after the evening meal sometimes, debating fine points of what they’re learning, covering tabletops with chalk diagrams and formulas that are absolutely incomprehensible to anyone else.

Eventually Everett will come to the Mess to get his husband to come to bed, Matthew does the same for Chloe, Ginn steals Eli away, and Chloe Anne reverts from researcher to mother, picking up her children from TJ’s quarters.

Jared and Jason and Carmen play together most evenings before it’s their bedtime. Sometimes Chloe Anne is in charge, sometimes TJ and sometimes Nick and himself.

Nick is a very good father figure to these little ones, which is something he never would have believed when they were stationed on Icarus Base. He’s endlessly patient, crouches down to their level when explaining something to them, is consistent with rules, and is quick with hugs and cuddles.

Carmen often insists that Nick sing her to sleep. Nick absolutely loves that, rocking her and crooning soft songs in English and Gaelic to her. The boys also start demanding songs from him, which both Chloe and Chloe Anne find adorable.

Nick’s glower when he’s told he’s done something cute or adorable is hilarious to Everett. It makes him want to kiss Nick until the pouting shifts to arousal and he’s maneuvered Nick out of his clothes and into the sheets, making love until Nick is sated and soft and sleepy. He doesn’t say it out loud, but Nick is absolutely adorable like this.

It’s a pleasant enough life. They’ve not run into new enemies and the food and resources gathering has been mostly trouble free, minus the usual mishaps with twisted ankles, insect bites, the occasional run in with plants or animals that want them for breakfast. The repairs to Destiny are ongoing, and they hope one day to have the ship whole and able to use the stargate on board to gain new crew or send their people home, if they want to return. It’s slow going, though, although the materials from Haven have helped. Their best estimates, as some materials would have to be scavenged from planets or moons, is twenty to thirty years.

They’ve developed routines. There are social events, of which most have Eli’s and Chloe’s influence. People seem content enough, for the time being. Anyone joining Stargate Command knows that they might be deployed for years. But none of them expected to be on a never-ending mission.

It had been hard on the crew to visit Earth with the stones, seeing the years added to family members faces. The crew has been stoic about it, for the most part, but like water undermining a building’s foundation, it’s wearing on them.

They miss Earth, long for the taste of Earth’s air, hearing voices different from the other crew members. They miss their families and friends. There are conversations about what their lives would be like now on Earth, the places they’d visit, the homes they’d build, the careers they would like.

Except for Nick. His husband has severed ties with Earth because there is nothing for him there. All he loves and cares about is here. The research, the explorations, friends and family and husband, the babies, everything that Nick cares about is right here.

Everett himself misses his brothers. Visiting using the stones just isn’t the same. There is an inherent awkwardness about their hugs, confusion in their expressions. Deep inside of himself, he can feel an inevitable shift towards change, and sometimes he finds himself thinking about retiring from the Air Force. He’d planned to put in twenty years, and begin a second career, something that he would find satisfying. Not farming, or working on a ranch, but maybe a trade, his own business. He finds himself volunteering to help Brody with repairs on the ship, the more mundane kind, the plumbing, the fixing circuits, welding. It’s a break from the stress of always being in command. Using his hands is its’ own kind of pleasure.

He’d worked construction and remodeling at times, back when he was a civilian, still in high school and college. He found it satisfying to take something broken and restore it, to take a neglected house and make it beautiful, useful, again. To see plans on paper take shape and become something he can touch, walk through, the bones of a house transforming into a place for a family to make their home.

But that second career is not possible, and his life on Destiny is good. It is.

But sometimes before he falls asleep, Nick drowsy in his arms, he thinks about a time when he isn’t responsible for all these lives. A future that isn’t possible right now, and probably won’t ever be.

Even if they repair the ship to the point where they can safely dial Earth and return, Nick wouldn’t want to leave Destiny.

And he wouldn’t leave Nick.

* * *

Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, months into years. Babies are conceived, born, learn to crawl and walk and talk. There was a flurry of weddings the first year after they came out of stasis, then it dwindled down to the sporadic celebration. Nick whittles numerous chess sets and every few months they have chess tournaments, besides the almost daily speed chess games. There are the monthly birthday parties, the talent shows, poker tournaments, weekly card clubs.

Also, the occasional funeral. It’s the part of the job that he finds the most difficult, notifying families that their loved one is really gone. Back on Earth, there are empty caskets. On Destiny the dead are bid farewell within the whoosh of the stargate, the unearthly blue shimmering as tears are shed, hands clasped, prayers said. Later, there will be a wake in the Mess, with Brody’s alcohol flowing freely as the lost crew member is toasted and stories about them are shared.

They’ve lost four souls. One from an allergic reaction to a vicious little insect that stung the man in the throat. Two heart attacks, both male scientists. A woman committed suicide after her husband back on Earth asked for a divorce. That last one was very hard on their people. Camile spent a lot of time talking to the crew after that and set up support groups for people to talk about their fears, their grief.

Eli keeps documenting their lives. Chloe Ann recounts her long life on Haven, her husbands and children. She tells him and the kino about her despair when the Nakai took her, her conflicted feelings about the Nakai she’d killed. They weren’t evil, but curiosity and obsession were traits that were so strong with them that they never would have given up searching for Destiny.

Chloe Ann tells them about the alien presence that had communicated with her once she’d been brought onboard the Nakai ship. Like the video documenting what had happened to the poor bastard crew members that had chosen to stay on the planet with the obelisk, she felt a presence, saw a blinding light, but unlike them, she felt a mind communicating with hers. She understood that it was only because of the changes imparted by the Nakai to her brain that they could do this. The alien was not bound to time or space. The past, the present, the future, they could skim back and forth as they pleased.

They – and Chloe Ann couldn’t tell if it was one entity or many entities – were interested in Destiny. They imparted to her what had happened after she had left Destiny, the time anomaly that resulted in a second Destiny. Her Destiny was destroyed, but the crew lived on in the second Destiny. How she’d been sent back in time thousands of years. That Destiny would come to where the Nakai ship would be waiting, like a spider in its web.

The Nakai learned this from her, of course. And so, their actions became like a self-fulfilling prophecy. Once they felt assured that they knew what Chloe Ann knew, she was one of them, and when her babies were born, they too were given Nakai genes.

They didn’t do any more mind reading, except for the most superficial readings. They did not know how her deeply hidden feelings of wanting to save the crew from the Nakai would result in their deaths.

Chloe didn’t have any further communication with the alien mind. Nick was fascinated, of course. Everett, not so much. As far as he was concerned, that alien mind could keep right on ignoring them. Nick wondered how much they could learn from those aliens or alien. He seemed to take it as a personal affront that there was knowledge out there that he couldn’t touch. What was the purpose of the obelisk? They hadn’t told Chloe Ann, which Nick would pout about from time to time.

Not that Nick would ever, ever admit to pouting. Everett took it as a personal challenge to nibble on that bottom lip until Nick would give it up and drag him to bed.

His husband was doing well, for the most part, when it came to the absolutely shitty things that had happened to him with the Lucians and the kidnappers.

Sometimes there were nightmares. Simeon usually starred in those, as well as that god damned table, and Kiva. The kidnappers who had raped him on board their ship also found their way into his dreams. Even occasionally some asshole from when he was a kid who’d harassed him, or unwanted attention he’d received as a student. Nick woke up in tears once, dreaming that David had forced him to have sex when he’d told him he didn’t want to, insisting that he knew best what Nick needed, despite Nick telling him to stop.

Everett would hold him, until Nick had calmed. Sometimes he would take long hot showers, and the next day he would wear Everett’s old jacket.

Nick was doing his best. Everett loved him so much and hoped that as time went by the nightmares would cease. Until then, he’d do whatever he could to make things easier for Nick.

* * *

Things aren’t perfect with their relationship. Nick has always had the ability to get under his skin, which, mostly he has dropped, but once in a while they irritate each other, and Nick gives him the sharp edge of his tongue. He’s not innocent, either. He can be mean to this man he loves more than everything. Again, not very often and not for long. After they’ve talked out their issues and apologized, they renew their marriage vows with lips and tongues and hands and touches on the sensitive parts of their bodies, their dicks and nipples and balls. There are soft touches, firm sweeps, and being held down so that pleasure is the only option and is welcomed. There is breathing so softly on aroused skin that they can come from just that. There are hands clasping as they walk Destiny’s corridors and there are hands gripping each other as they lay on their bed, as their orgasms build.

There are moans and whimpers, cursing and incoherence as they make each other spiral higher and higher before they break.

Sometimes he fucks Nick, sometimes Nick fucks him. They are quite happy to switch around according to who wants what. Hands jobs, giving head, frottage and, despite the abuse Nick has suffered, with Everett those nightmare times are banished.

There is silliness, and shower sex and strip poker, cuddling while watching movies, kissing on the observation deck and drinking tea as they watch Destiny fly through space. There is bickering, bantering, joking, and sweet sex afterward. There are intense discussions, crying, hugs, laughing and being there for each other on the bad days.

They are married. They have each other’s six; they are partners and Everett is so thankful that Nick chose him.

 

* * *

“Colonel Young, come in.”

Everett unfastens his radio and responds. “Colonel Young here, report.”

“This is Micah Greer. Something’s wrong with Dr. Rush. He got all weird and ran away, and he dropped his radio.”

Micah Greer was one of the men from Haven who’d joined the crew. He wasn’t a troublemaker and was friendly. He and Vanessa were in a relationship, and he seemed very content with being on Destiny. There was no history of any problems between him and Nick, but Nick was a bit standoffish with all the crew who’d come from Haven.

“Weird how? And what’s your location, I’m coming to you.” Micah gives him his position and Everett starts jogging.

“Anyway,” Micah says, “he was in the storage room, up on a ladder getting something off a shelf. He wasn’t tall enough and he couldn’t reach it, he was up on his toes on the top of the step ladder and I, uh, I guess I startled him when I went over to help him out and he started to fall. I caught him and I was going to put him down, but he kind of went crazy, like he was fighting me, and I was afraid I was going to drop him so I kind of restrained him? Held him tight and asked him to calm down. When he did, I put him down, but he was crying and he looked at me like I was going to hurt him, like he didn’t know me, then he ran off. I swear on Mother Chloe’s name, I did not do anything to hurt him or scare him, not on purpose. I just didn’t want him to fall and get hurt.”

Fuck, Everett thinks. It was a flashback, triggered by Micah holding him, Nick helpless in his arms. All the crew from Haven were big, they even made Becker look on the short side, and it must have thrown Nick back to when he’d been kidnapped.

“It’s not your fault. Stay at your current position, and if Dr. Rush returns, let me know. I’ll be there shortly.” Everett picks up speed. If Nick is still lost in his own head, he’ll try to hide somewhere. Everett suddenly remembers the time Nick had panicked and run off – Everett’s fault – and how he’d almost hid in a room that was open to space, that he would have been sucked out of Destiny to die.

He runs faster.

* * *

Nick has managed to calm himself down by the time Everett finds him, sitting in a nearby nexus corridor by the lifts. It’s evident he’s been crying, and he’s wrapped his arms around himself as he sits on a bench.

“Hey,” Everett says, dropping down next to him.

“Hello.” Nick takes Everett’s hand, locks their fingers together. “I gather you were told about my dramatics.”

“You had a flashback. Understandable, of course. Do you want to talk about it?”

Nick sighs. “It’s over. I know what the triggers were. Micah being so big, his Haven accent, him restraining me. Fuck, I hope I didn’t hurt him from trying to kick myself free. When he set me down, I just ran until it sunk in that I was on Destiny, that I was safe. Lost the radio, though, so I decided to wait for you. I knew you would come.”

“You can count on it. I’ll always come for you, Nick.” He brings their joined hands up to his lips and kisses Nick’s knuckles.

Nick sighs again, stands and tugs Everett up, but keeps hold of their hands. “Think I’m done for the day. Let’s go home, shower, have a night in.”

“Sounds good. And Micah is fine. Do you want me to explain what happened when I go back to the storage room for the radio? He’s waiting there.”

“Aye. I’ll go on then and scrub up, and you can explain why I acted so daft.”

“I’ll explain that you had a trauma reaction, and what triggered it.”

“He actually saved me from falling. Tell him I said thanks for that, would you?” When Everett agrees, they walk hand in hand back to the storage room. Nick gives him a soft kiss, an apology of sorts, Everett knows, for having to come and find him.

Everett kisses him back passionately, his way of telling Nick he is loved, and Everett would do anything for him.

Later when their meal is over, they cuddle in bed, listening to Nick’s iPod until lazy touches grow heated. Afterwards, when Nick is falling asleep, both of them sated, Nick tucked up against him, Everett reflects that he’s a god damned lucky man.

And if they never leave Destiny, then so be it. He didn’t pay much attention in Sunday School, but he does remember the story of Ruth and Naomi. Without the religious aspect, one person commits to the other, to live with them, to go where they go, to die with them. To have a life together of love.

He’d once abandoned Nick on a planet, alone, to die.

There’s no force in the universe that could tear him away from Nick now. Where Nick chooses to go, Everett will follow.

* * *

He’s on the Bridge when it happens. Chloe Ann is doing a shift as navigator, and he’d taken the opportunity to chat with her about the boys practicing their reading skills by reading to Carmen this afternoon. She was six now and learning to read herself.

“Want to stick around for a game night afterwards? We can put a movie on Nick’s laptop for all the kids. No card games though. Eli and Ginn, Chloe and Matt are coming too, and between all you card counting geniuses, Matt and me would be wiped out.”

Chloe Ann looks mischievous. “God, can you imagine if we all went to Vegas? The casinos would never be the same.”

Amused, Everett replies, “I’d give good money to see that though. I wonder if I could get Nick to wear a cowboy hat while he rakes in the dough. And a western style shirt.”

Laughing, Chloe Ann shakes her head. “No on the hat, and if the shirt had things like fringe on it, then there’s no way he’d be caught dead wearing it. Boots, though. He’d wear cowboy boots. Maybe you can have the manufactory design a pair for him.”

Everett grins. “I think I will. Chloe and Matt are bringing their girls, so want to join us?” Everett asks, already planning to get with Brody about programming the manufactory to create the boots. He’d put a bow on them and leave them on the bed. Nick was adorable when Everett surprised him with small gifts like that. He always had that question in his eyes, unsure that a present was really meant for him. Such things had been rare in his childhood, Everett knew. Yeah, Nick’s dad had been poor, but Everett had learned enough about the man to know that if it came to spending money on a treat for Nick or a bottle of booze, the booze won every time.

Chloe Ann nods, “Sure. What about TJ and Marcus?” She looks down at the monitors.

“They’ve got other plans for tonight. Camile is babysitting James and Molly.” Marcus, one of the new crew from Haven, and TJ had been married for several years now, and their baby boy was almost ten months old. Molly, their first, was going on three. Carmen loved being a big sister. She wasn’t as keen on sharing some of her toys with him or her sister, but they were working on that.

Chloe Ann doesn’t respond and Everett glances down at her. Her eyes are glassy, and her breathing is erratic.

“What is it? Chloe Ann, are you sick?” Before he could reach for his radio to summon TJ, Chloe Ann grabs his hand and holds it in a death grip.

Before he can do anything else, the room fills with a brilliant light, and his mind shuts down.

* * *

Awakening feels like he’s trapped in a dream. He hears sounds, but he can’t identify them. He sees shapes, but they remain vague and can’t focus or concentrate enough to figure out what he’s seeing. He feels like he’s on a whirl a gig ride at a carnival or fair, one that never ends, keeping him confused and disorientated.

His brain is slow. Chloe Anne, he finally remembers. Something about Chloe Anne.

Mercifully, he slides back into unconsciousness.

* * *

“Nick,” he mumbles, “turn off the damn alarm clock.” Christ, he was tired. Nick must have set up multiple alarms, who the fuck knows why. It’s giving him a headache, the way they keep yammering on. Vaguely, he wonders if he has a shift on the Bridge this morning. If he doesn’t he’s going to sleep in. He pokes his arm towards Nick’s side of the bed. “Genius,” he mutters. “C’mon, shut them up. I’m sleepin’ over here.”

There’s no warm body his arm touches. Fuck, if Nick set up all these alarms and then waltzed off with his head in the clouds about his current project, forgetting to turn them off, then Everett was going to have words with his husband. If Nick remembered to bring his radio, that is. If he didn’t Everett would just have to track him down. See what Nick would offer to make it up to him. A nice massage sounded pretty great.

Okay, there is no way around it. He has to get up and turn off the alarms himself. Groaning he sits up and opens his eyes, blinking blearily.

His mind starts to clear as he realizes he’s on the Bridge, not in his bed, and Chloe Anne is unconscious on the floor. The alarms keep blaring and beeping and he gets himself up and takes stock of the situation.

Right. First, check to see if they are under attack. If not, check the crew. If they are under attack, he’ll either fire back or get the hell out of here. They’ve dropped out, he can see that much.

He staggers over to different stations, silencing alarms as he goes. They are not under attack, but something major has happened to them. A quick glance at their navigation map shows they’re far away from their last position. He doesn’t trust that he’s actually reading correctly what he’s seeing.

It can’t be what he thought he saw. It’s impossible.

Chloe Anne is stirring; a quick check doesn’t show any obvious injuries. He checks the rest of the crew. Everyone is alive, some are still out of it, but a few are waking up.

He gets on the comm and orders anyone awake to check on nearby crew and report the ship’s status to him and anybody needing medical care to TJ.

Eli reports in, he’s with Greer, who’s awake, and Nick, who is unconscious. Nick has a bump on his head, which is bleeding slightly. He hit a console when he passed out, Eli thinks. Everett orders Greer to stay with them, radio TJ for instructions, and tells Eli to get to the Bridge ASAP.

TJ reports in, she’s asking that any injured be sent to the infirmary. She said she’s sending teams out with hoverboard stretchers to bring in Nick and anyone still not awake.

Eli runs into the Bridge, panting, and an expression of pain on his face.

“Ow, ow,” he pants out. “Bad headache. What in the hell happened?” He starts dashing from console to console, shooting Everett a bewildered look.

“Colonel?” Eli is shaking his head, pointing to the navigation map.

“I see it. So, either our systems are out of whack, from whatever happened to us, or-” He doesn’t finish, because the communication system starts demanding attention.

Eli responds to the comm, and a voice, in English, states, “This is Homeworld Command, unknown vessel identify yourself and stand down.”

Everett nods at Eli. “Homeworld Command,” Eli’s voice cracks. “This is Destiny. Repeat, this is Destiny. Are we really orbiting Earth? Are we really home?”

* * *

 

It’s Chloe Ann who explains the mystery of how they’ve traveled so far so fast and why they are orbiting Earth. She had stumbled to her feet and gripped Everett’s hand and, with tears coursing down her cheeks, told him what the aliens had done. And why.

They interfered with Destiny’s mission out of a sense of benevolence. They knew that the crew would soon have to go into stasis for a hundred years, that they would die on Destiny and their many times descendants, if anybody survived, had only an extremely slim chance to continue to the end point. Apparently, they hadn’t trusted that the crew could fix the ship and use the stargate to send people back and forth from Earth. They had returned the dead crew brought back to life for a short time to Destiny out of a sense that those poor souls needed to be where they belonged, with their people. And this same sense had made them come to the decision to force Destiny to complete the mission with their help and then to take them home.

In only a few hours, according to Destiny’s records.

It made shivers crawl up Everett’s back, to know that they’d been monitored by such powerful beings. Probably were still being watched by them.

They’re going to be inspected by Homeworld Command shortly and Camile is in her element, coordinating with them. They’re sending in teams of doctors and medics to do extensive checkups and David Telford is in charge of their debriefing. For now, Camile had gotten them a respite, time they sorely need to come to terms with being home so abruptly.

Leaving the Bridge in Matthew’s hands, and Camile dealing with Homeworld Command, Everett jogs to the Infirmary, ignoring his own pounding head. Nick is starting to come around, TJ had radioed, and Everett needs to be the one to tell him what the latest upheaval to their life means.

Nick never wanted to come back to Earth.

He speaks briefly with TJ, learns that the kids, like the rest of them, have headaches. Thank God nothing else is wrong. She’s treated the children for the headaches and given them something to help them take a nap. She says sleeping will help them with the headache. As far as the crew’s injuries, Nick’s was the most serious. Others have bruises from falling down, a few have sprained wrists. She looks harried, and the Infirmary is full of patients.

She points to the back of the room, where he can see Nick on a gurney. “He’s got a concussion. He woke up briefly, made pained noises, then passed out again. But he’s becoming restless in his sleep, and I think he’s ready to wake up.” She hands him two cups of her headache brew. “Drink that, Everett, and then when he wakes up, get Nick to take it. Let me know immediately if he’s nauseous or incoherent or goes into a seizure. I’ve got a lot of people to check over.”

“Help is on the way. Telford’s bringing medical teams onboard, they’ll coordinate with you. Just remember, this is our ship and you’re in charge. I doubt Telford will try to challenge that, though.”

She smiles at him, both of them remembering how she had bested Telford’s attempts to go against her medical advice when he’d used the stones to switch with Everett. She’d put him out so Everett’s body could recover from the injuries he’d received when they’d first landed on Destiny.

She reaches for his hand, grips it tightly. “Just like coming to Destiny, being back is going to turn our lives upside down again.”

“Yes. But we’ll manage. We’re going to be okay, and we’ll work it out.” He draws her to him and kisses her on the forehead. “We’ll figure it out, TJ. We’re family and that’s not going to change.”

She lets him go, with a tired smile, and turns back to her horde of patients. Everett walks over to Nick, takes in the bandage on his head. A half-melted icepack is on the gurney that he’s probably pulled off in his sleep. Putting it back in place, Everett pulls up a stool and watches his husband.

He’s so beautiful. Asleep like this, without the force of his personality adding metaphorical inches and pounds to his body, he looks as small as he actually is, body trim and lithe, features a bit elfin. His hair is shoulder length, mostly because he keeps putting off letting Chloe give him a haircut. It’s a rich brown, not a trace of gray. He looks young, although it’s been years since those space pirates forced him to take the anti-aging treatment.

Nick’s arm comes up and bats at the ice pack. Everett takes his hand. “Leave that alone, Genius. You got banged up. Ready to wake up?”

Nick’s face screws up into a pout. “No. Christ, my head. What? Did I get into Brody’s latest batch of homebrew? He did warn that it was extra potent.”

“No, you didn’t get drunk. Although, you might want to after I tell you what did happen. Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes. TJ’s got the magical headache potion for you to take.”

Squinting, Nick opens his eyes, and Everett helps him sit up, hands him the medicine. Making a face, Nick downs half of it. “All right, so what happened?” He notices the Infirmary full of people. “So not just me, then. I remember a brilliant light, and, and. . . I think a voice in my head, but I can’t remember what it said. What the fuck happened, Everett!”

“We were paid a visit by the aliens or maybe just one of them, the ones that built the obelisk on that planet we left part of the crew on.”

Nick’s eyebrows climb. “The aliens who returned the crew in a damaged shuttle to Destiny? Who it seemed had brought dead people back to life, only to have them die again the way they did originally? The ones Chloe Ann talked to when she was on board the Nakai ship? What the fuck did they do, Everett?”

“They took us to Earth. We’re in orbit right now.”

“What? Why? What about the mission?” Nick’s voice is sharp, and Everett can hear the fear and anxiety that Nick tries to hide. He knows Nick now; he hears what Nick doesn’t want others to notice.

Everett sighs. “Not sure. Been busy checking on the crew and talking to Homeworld Command. But the aliens talked to Chloe Ann, said we were done, and it was time to go home.”

“Has anybody seen the AI?” Nick looks around wildly when Everett shakes his head. “All right, you little bastard, come out and report.”

Suddenly, the AI is there sitting cross-legged at the end of Nick’s gurney. “Oh, me head. Ask your questions softly, or it might drop right off.” Little Nick is flushed, cheeks red, and his eyes are bleary. His clothes are rumpled, and there’s a strong smell of alcohol about him, as if he’d doused himself in the stuff.

Everett shoots Nick a look and Nick rolls his eyes, embarrassed. “Yes, well, it was the first time I got stinkin’ drunk. Stole the old man’s booze, I did. The AI must be feeling fair rough if that’s how he wants to appear.” Turning his attention to the AI, he asks, “What happened and what about the mission?”

“As you’ve been told by Chloe Ann, it was the same aliens that messed wi’ us before. According to my data banks, the mission is over. The bloody buggers took us along the path we were to follow with Destiny all the way to the first marker, and then brought us to Earth. In no bloody time at all. The data is there, all of it, but it’ll take the rest of your lifetime to study it. Why, though, you’d best talk to the lass. And now I want a lie down and tell Eli to leave off his sodding inquiries. Me head’s whirling with what I’ve been through.” Little Nick looks panicked all of a sudden and clamps a palm over his mouth before disappearing.

Everett radios Eli and relays the AI’s request. Nick is quiet.

“You okay there, Genius?” He’ll ask TJ to look him over again.

“This changes everything,” Nick says. “I thought I’d grow old and die on Destiny. And that was fine. I don’t have anyone here on Earth.”

“You do. You have me, and Carmen and TJ and Molly and James. Eli and Ginn. Chloe and Chloe Ann and their kids. Matthew and Greer. Vanessa and Camile and Lisa. Brody and even Volker.”

“What if. . . What if I don’t want to stay? I’m no sure I want to leave Destiny. Surely she’ll be sent out on a different mission?”

“If that’s what you truly want, then I’ll come with you. My home is with you, Nicholas Rush.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind Nick’s ear, then rubs his neck, hoping to relax the tenseness from Nick.

Nick is quiet again and closes his eyes. When he opens them, he looks so vulnerable. He takes Everett’s hand from his neck and squeezes it.

“Drink the rest of that stuff,” Everett says gruffly, and when he does Everett takes the cup away, sits it on the nearby table by his own.

Nick says, carefully, “But you’d like to stay. You’d build a life here. You and TJ will want Carmen to grow up on Earth. Carmen could go to school; she could play football.”

“We call it soccer in the states, remember? But yeah, she could play baseball and basketball and soccer. Or not. Maybe she’d like gymnastics instead. There’s a lot of choices. Nick, don’t worry about it for now. There’s time to decide. “

Nick just gave a wave of his hand. “What would you do, if we stay on Earth? Would you stay in the Air Force?”

Everett shook his head. “No, it feels like it’s time for a change. I, well, I’d like to work in the building trades. Be a general contractor, maybe get my electrician’s or plumbing license. I’ve enjoyed the work I’ve done on Destiny with Brody, being hands on with fixing things. I know a lot of retired service personnel go into security work, but I’d be done with all of that.”

“You’d go wi’ me though, if I’m allowed to stay with Destiny. You’d stay in the Air Force.”

“I would. But there’s no guarantee Homeworld Command would assign me to Destiny. You, probably, since you’re the leading authority on the ship, they would let you stay onboard.”

“I could make it a condition of me staying on, that you be the commander.” Nick looks at him, waiting patiently when Everett doesn’t say anything.

Finally, Everett says, “You could try. They might agree, or they might be pissed off about your demands and shoot them down. If they won’t agree for me to command Destiny what would you do? Go without me? Or stay with me on Earth? I think TJ and Carmen will stay. And what about the research you and the others have been doing with data from Destiny? It’s all there now, Nick. All of it. It will take a lifetime, probably, to interpret it.”

Nick bites his lip and looks torn. Everett sighs, leans over and kisses him. “Nothing will be decided today. TJ says sleep helps with the headache, and you should try to rest. David will be coming soon to be our liaison and debrief the crew. We’ll talk more later.”

“Everett, will you ask Chloe Ann to come here? I have to know what those aliens told her.”

“I will, but then you rest, okay?”

Nick nods and lays back down, but he’s anything but relaxed. His fists are bunched up and he’s biting his lip once more. But Everett can’t stay any longer. He’s afraid he’ll start trying to persuade Nick to stay on Earth, because that would be Everett’s choice. It feels like a natural ending to his command and their mission. He’s done.

He’ll stay with Nick on Destiny though, if that’s what Nick wants. He loves him, he wants him to be happy. His first marriage ended because he put his career before his life with his wife. He won’t make that mistake again.

* * *

Of course, Nick blows off staying in the Infirmary where he could continue to be treated. TJ radios him that Nick has slipped out and asks him to stop by so she can send some of her patented headache cure home with him.

She’s tired when he’s given the flask, but the place is mostly cleared out of ailing crew members. She looks at him steadily, beautiful and competent and firm in her resolve. Her decision is in her eyes, and he smiles at her. Tamara, mother of his child, once his lover, always his friend.

“You’re staying on Earth, with that husband of yours and Carmen and your little ones. It’s okay, TJ. It’s what I expected. Whatever Nick decides he wants, we’ll work it out so we’re in Carmen’s life.”

TJ’s eyes mist a little, but her voice is steady. “So, you think he’s going to want to stay with Destiny. And you’ll stay with him. You’re thinking that video chats and furloughs back to Earth will make up for her father not being there with her? She needs you, too. You and Nick are family to me and Carmen’s little brother and sister. Chloe Ann’s boys. too. Chloe’s girls. And Chloe is pregnant, again, and if it’s a boy she’s going to name him Nicholas Everett. You and Nick are her and Matt’s family, too.”

She takes a deep breath. “Oh God, this is going to be so hard.” Tears trickle down her cheeks, and he realizes that she’s grieving for the loss of Nick and himself.

“Hey. Hey, TJ.” he pulls her into his arms and hugs her tightly. “Nothing is decided, okay? And whatever happens, we are family, and we will stay connected.”

She nods against him, then gently frees herself, wiping her eyes. She smiles with a wry and resigned expression. “Change is hard, sir.”

“You’re not wrong, Captain.” TJ stepping into her military role means this conversation is over. For now.

“You know the drill, sir. If Dr. Rush is confused, has a seizure, or has a severe headache still, haul his ass right back here. Look at his pupils, and even though you’ll need to wake him up for concussion checks, make sure he sleeps. Or at least rests. He’s not to be anywhere near a console or the Apple Core or the Bridge until I clear him.”

“I’ll start preparing for the epic pouting, then.”

She chuckles. “Good luck then, sir.”

* * *

Nick’s not in their quarters and his radio is on their bed, a message that he wants some time to himself. Everett can’t give him very long, he needs to make sure he’s okay, but he waits until he’s updated Camile, Matt, Vanessa, and Greer. He assigned Matt to run several briefings for the crew in the Mess and asked Camile to liaison with David when he comes through the stargate. He asks Chloe Ann to be available for questions during the two briefings. Rumors are spreading like wildfire, but he has faith in his people to handle the crew.

He finds Nick on the observation deck, sitting on a bench, staring down at the Earth. He slides in beside him. Nick’s hand finds his and he leans against Everett’s shoulder.

“I’m from Glasgow, ye know,” Nick says, and his accent, usually mild, is heavy with the sound of the city where he grew up.

“Mmm.”

“The ocean is right there, you canna escape it, really. So much of the work there depends on it. Did ye know, did I ever tell ye, that I worked as a lad on the docks and on a few trawlers?”

“Yeah, you did.” Illegally. Nick was too young at the time.

“We’ve come to port, Everett. Can’t say I ever expected it. I thought I’d die on Destiny, hopefully after a long life with you.”

He squeezes Nick’s hand.

“I stopped in to see Carmen before I came here. James was bawling and Marcus had his hands full with the three of them. I rocked the baby to sleep, and Carmen showed me a picture she’d done, of you and me and TJ, Marcus, wee Molly and James and herself. We’re all holding hands in her drawing. She told me she’d drawn her family. Molly demanded a cuddle after I laid James down in his crib and asked me, sweet as anything, to sing to her. Marcus saluted me with a bit of Brody’s finest and said he was grateful for the help. It fucking broke my heart to think of leaving them.”

Everett pulls Nick into his lap. There’s no one here, the crew is at the briefings that had been announced. He kisses his hair and holds him tight. The only other person Nick has ever allowed to hold him like this had been David. Nick says David got off on his being vulnerable and soft and small for him. He’d insist on sex soon afterward, dominating him. Nick had put a stop to it, after realizing what was really going on between the two of them.

It’s not that way between him and Nick. They’ve talked about this. This is comfort for Nick, a respite from stress and worries. For him, it’s when they’re on the couch and his head in in Nick’s lap, and Nick soothes away his troubles.

They are partners. It took a long time and a lot of getting around the stubbornness and hardheadedness the two of them were so good at, learning to trust each other.

Nick stays silent for a time. “I’ve had a grand time. Seeing what the universe is about. Learning its’ secrets. Aye, not that it was all good. I almost died too many times. Tormented and raped, again, too many times. But I came through it and I have you and I have children who love me and friends who are true. I have a family on this ship. I’m not bloody alone anymore.”

Everett just kisses him again on his beautiful hair. He’s learned, the hard way, boy did he learn the hard way, that with this man there’s times he just needs to shut up and let his husband work his way through what he needs to say.

“I was so alone after I lost Gloria. Being on Destiny was a wonderful dream come true for me, mostly, I think, because I could lose myself in learning her ways and unlocking her mysteries and not have to bother with other people. Because I didn’t want to ever hurt that way again, and I failed at being a good husband to her. She deserved better, she did, and nobody else deserved to have me fail them like I did her. But you and the crew, you changed that for me. And maybe I will be desperate with grief someday, but I won’t be alone. And I won’t fail you, Everett. Or the crew. I’ve learned better since we landed on Destiny.”

“Mmmm.”

“When the Lucians were done raping me on that fuckin’ table, you took care of me. You covered me with your own jacket, when we had such few clothes back then. You stood up to Kiva and carried me away and let me hide my face and cry against you. You were so kind. TJ told me once how you’d washed me clean of their sins. All the blood and cum they’d left on me, their stink and piss. I’d already been fighting down my attraction to you, Everett, but that I figured was just physical, could be discarded. I think I began to love you that day, although I was too troubled at the time to even think about my feelings.”

“I love you, Genius.”

“Aye, and I love you, and I loved our life on the ship, at least when it was going well. I could have gone on and been happy with sailing through star systems, fixing the ship, having the Science Team, and our friends to be with. The babies. I know now what it is to be a father.”

“You’re such a good father, Nick. Not just to Carmen. Molly and James consider you and me another set of parents and to all the other kids you’re a favorite uncle.” Everett thought to himself that Nick would miss all those little kids so much if they stayed with Destiny for more missions. But then, he’d miss Destiny if he chose to stay on Earth. Nick was building to something, that was clear, to a decision, but Everett couldn’t tell what it would be.

Nick sighed and rubbed his head. “I knew as soon as you told me the aliens had given us a lift through bloody time and space to complete the mission that I would have to decide where my life was going to head. I know what you’d prefer. By the way, you can tell TJ for me that I apologize for sneaking away, but I needed to clear my head.”

Everett snorted. “Nice try, Genius, but you can tell her yourself. Me being your go between won’t get you out of the doghouse with her. Man up and say your sorry excuses to her face.”

“Ah, well, it was worth a try.”

“Nick. I’m with you. You know that, right?”

“Aye, I do. I ken you and you ken me. Look down, Everett. Look at the Earth. We’ve seen many planets, haven’t we? Enough for a lifetime, I’d say. This planet here, it’s beautiful. And I’ve seen so little of it. Think I’d like to change that.”

“What are you saying, Nick?”

“It’s not like the work is done, is it? And we worked for it, bled for it, starved and some gave their lives. Volker gave his kidney, even. And we’re not bloody giving our work, not any of what we’ve done to understand what Destiny gathered back to the beginning of time to some think group Homeworld Command throws together. No. It’s got to be me, Eli, Chloe Ann and Chloe. Maybe Mckay can lend a hand, obnoxious sod that he is. We’re not going to be stuck in Cheyenne Mountain though. No, I think we should have a collaboration with a major university. And bollocks to keeping our findings a bloody secret. It’s going to be released to the whole fuckin’ world.”

“Nick. Take a breath. Slow down. I still don’t know what you’re saying.”

Nick slides off his lap, kneels in front of him, takes both his hands and holds them to his heart. “’Home is the sailor, home from the sea.’ I always fuckin’ loved that. Captain of the first trawler I worked on used to say that to us when we came into port. To Glasgow. To home. Do you see now? We’ll stay on Earth and watch our children grow. It’s a lifetime’s work to decipher what Destiny has given us, and I want that. You’ll build us a home and we’ll take Carmen to whatever bloody sport she wants, to watch her play. We’ll have the crew and their families over for cards and drinks and food and the kids can run around screaming and playing.”

He reaches out a hand and caresses Everett’s face. “We’ll visit your family; you’ll show me the ranch and you can take me to a bloody fair. You want to build houses? You build your houses. You want another child or two? We’ll give Carmen more brothers or sisters.”

“Nick? Are you sure?” His heart is soaring, he feels light, feels weight that he’s carried for years floating from his shoulders. “You don’t have to decide tonight. You have time. I know, sweetheart, how much Destiny means to you. Do you really think you can give that up?”

“Aye. We’ve explored the out there, in the depths of space. I’m so bloody grateful to have had the chance to do that. Being on Destiny has given me you, a family. The chance of a fuckin’ lifetime to learn, to understand the very origins of our universe. I’m taking the best of what Destiny has given me with us. It’s time to swap being a bloody space cowboy back to being a mathematician.”

“You’ll always be a space cowboy to me, Rush. So. We’re doing this. Retirement and a new career for me, back to academia for you. Okay, then. But the future can wait for tonight. C’mon, Genius, you have a nasty knock to the head. You need to rest.”

“Going to take care of me again, Everett?” Nick says, sounding amused. Wanting to make a joke out of what he said. Everett isn’t buying it. Nick has had damn few people in his life who took care of him when he needed it. He would never ask for reassurance, but he wants it, needs it. Watching the AI mimic Nick as a kid has been a window into Nick’s past.

“Always, Nick.” He says it straight. Not as a joke. He says it and means it and he can see from Nick’s expression that he understands. He gets up, pulls Nick to his feet. “C’mon, Space Cowboy.”

“Damn. I just gave you another annoying nickname for me, didn’t I?” Nick sounds chagrined, as he rubs his head again. Definitely needs that headache medicine. They look again down at the Earth below them. Their once and forever home.

“Yep, you sure did.” He stops and kisses Nick, feels the dogtag on a chain he gave to him. His husband. The man he once beat and left on a planet to die of thirst, who forgave him for that sin as he forgave Nick for framing him for Spencer’s death.

They walk Destiny’s corridors, their home for so many years. The doors to their quarters slide open. They go in, Everett’s arm over Nick’s shoulders. The door slides shut, and they begin the rest of their lives.

* * *

Epilogue

Ten Years Later

Greer kisses his wife like they’ve just married, instead of having tied the knot nine years ago. Four kids, all of them rowdy as hell, and he wonders if he and Lisa will end up with seven of them like their counterparts on Haven did.

There’s a good chance, now that he’s retiring from the Marines. He and Lisa had been fascinated by their doubles’ lives on Haven. They’d looked happy in the kinos Haven’s Eli had recorded. He was an only child, and a large family appeals to him.

Colonel Young and Rush threw him this party to celebrate his retirement, and a lot of the old Destiny crew are here today in Ann Arbor, Michigan, at the house the Colonel built when he retired from the Air Force.

Many of them live on this street or across the way. Some work for the Colonel’s building company; a lot of the scientists have found jobs at the nearby University. It’s where Rush picked to have their research group based, an area with a lower cost of living and more opportunity for the Colonel’s business.

Besides the original four – Rush, Eli, Chloe, and Chloe Ann – Ginn and two of the crew from Haven have joined their research group, as well as some of the top mathematicians at the University of Michigan and those recruited from Berkeley and MIT and around the world. Not that Greer knows a whole lot about the research Destiny and those aliens gathered, but he knows it’s a really impressive and coveted position, to be part of that nerd group.

This area is going to be his and Lisa’s new neighborhood. The Colonel’s almost finished their house, he’s starting his job in a month, and Lisa will be teaching at the University of Michigan. He’s got his master's in mechanical engineering, his pension from the Marines, and the Colonel has given him a hell of a discount, as he’s done for any of the crew who chose to settle in or close to Ann Arbor.

He owes the Colonel a lot. He encouraged him to apply for the enlisted to officer program and get his degree. Camile, man, that woman negotiated a hell of a deal for him. She did that for all the crew, citing their extended service and pulling strings to help launch them back into life on Earth. Lisa helped him with his studies, and his mama was so proud of him for getting that degree she’d wanted him to have before he up and joined the Marines.

He gets up from the couch, telling Lisa he’d be back soon, and heads to the guest bathroom, slapping Brody on the back and bumping fists with Volker. Those two had remained with Destiny, while he joined SG2 after one last short mission on Destiny. The ship stays in the Milky Way, though; he sees his old crew fairly often since leaving the ship himself. Lisa took a position at Cheyenne Mountain. It’s not a walk in the park being on SG2, but it’s nothing like the desperate days they’d first had on Destiny.

That was okay by him. Of the original crew, only a handful remain with Destiny. Brody, for one, and Volker for another. Vanessa and Barnes, too. Riley had also joined a SGU team.

Destiny’s AI still manifested as Little Nick, both amusing and annoying the crew. Greer thought that was fitting. In a way, Rush was still on Destiny.

The downstairs bathroom is occupied, so he heads towards the stairs instead. The rooms are noisy, with plenty of kids and teenagers playing games or just tearing around chasing each other. His oldest, Dale, is right in the middle of the chaos. Lisa’s keeping an eye on the twins and the baby is conked out in Camile’s arms next to her on the couch. Her wife, Sharon, is there, holding their three-year-old son. The boy isn’t quite sure he wants his mama, Camile, to be holding a baby, but he’s gonna have to get used to it since Sharon is pregnant. She’d taken the age reversal medicine. He and Lisa had, too. Another perk that Camile had gotten the crew and their families.

There’s a mad game of Uno going on in the spacious kitchen with Chloe and Chloe Ann, Matt, Eli and Ginn and their assorted older kids. Carmen, too. There’s a guy sitting next to Chloe Ann, a serious boyfriend who, Lisa told him, hadn’t been scared off by Chloe Ann’s history of being made part alien and her life on Haven and on the Nakai ship. Lisa said he was good for Chloe Ann, and she thought they might end up living together or even getting married.

It’s a beautiful house, airy, spacious, wood trim, high ceilings and large windows. TJ and Marcus live next door, with Molly and James, and Carmen has rooms in both houses. It’s similar to how they handled things when they all lived on Destiny. Rush and the Colonel have three other children, courtesy of surrogates, and the six kids bop from one house to the other as they please.

He starts climbing the stairs but finds himself stopping to admire the pictures on the wall. It’s a journey through time, documenting the Colonel’s and Rush’s life since leaving Destiny.

There’s TJ standing proudly with both of them, her diploma from med school in her hands. Carmen in a grubby softball uniform, excitedly holding up a trophy. Rush holding a newborn baby, looking awed and happy. Ditto for the next group of pictures of their youngest kids as babies, toddlers, preschoolers and school age rascals. Two of the boys have Rush’s features and the youngest, a little girl, has the Colonel’s black curly hair. There are group pictures of Carmen with all her brothers and sisters, with TJ and Marcus, Rush and the Colonel standing behind them.

There’s a group shot of the Colonel’s new construction crew; he recognizes some of the men and women from the original crew, including Becker, and Haven.

He chuckles at the picture of the Colonel and Rush standing in front of a Ferris Wheel. Rush is holding a large stuffed fox while the Colonel has tugged him tightly to his side. Rush looks a little put out and embarrassed; the Colonel looks as smug as he’s ever seen him. There’s another snapshot next to that one on the other side of the frame. It must have been taken right after the first one, because in it the Colonel is kissing Rush for all he’s worth, the stuffed animal dangling from Rush’s hand.

There’s a shot of the Nerd Dream Team, Chloe and Chloe Ann, Eli and Ginn and Rush sitting around a large table with coffee cups, caught intently discussing something no doubt related to Destiny’s fulfilled mission.

There’s Eli getting an award for his series of documentaries about Destiny and the crew; all those hours he played around with the kinos collecting footage paid off for him. Greer and Lisa have watched it. It was intense, honest and really showed how a bunch of castaways came together as a crew to care about each other.

He reaches the top of the stairs and heads down the hallway. He’s been here before; he knows the house’s layout. Stepping into the bathroom, he takes care of business. It’s when he’s leaving that he notices it.

Hanging on a hook by the door is the Colonel’s old Air Force jacket. It’s faded and frayed on the hem and the sleeves are turned up at the wrists. He’d know it anywhere. Carefully, he feels at the cuffs and sighs when he confirms that the small screwdriver is still there.

He remembers when the Colonel had given his jacket to Rush, after the brutal rapes and torture he’d endured. He’d done it to cover Rush’s naked body, and to help keep him warm; it had become much more than borrowed clothing though to Rush.

Greer was observant and he’d figured out when Kiva had dumped Rush in with the rest of the imprisoned military that Rush had a strong emotional connection to the Colonel’s jacket.

Safety, security, a tangible reminder that the Colonel cared about him, Rush had worn it almost daily for a long time. Even after things had gotten better for Rush, he still wore it on the bad days, the days when his eyes looked lost, when he’d finger that hidden screwdriver the way Greer had seen people pray with a rosary.

Rush had washed Simeon’s blood from the jacket, after he’d pulled off killing the bastard, getting himself and Lisa out of that fucker’s clutches. He’d bawled his eyes out in Greer’s arms, so full of despair and anger, hating himself and hurting, and he realized he’d never see him as the total asshole he’d thought he was ever again. Rush had been so tired he was practically incoherent, could barely stand up, but he’d taken the time and effort to clean the Colonel’s jacket. It was precious to him.

Finding it here, obviously still something Rush wore makes Greer feel a surge of empathy for his friend. Maybe Rush would never be one hundred percent over what had happened to him, on that fucking table in the Mess, or being harassed and assaulted while working for the Lucians, or when he’d been kidnapped and raped again, sold off as a prostitute.

Greer heads back down the hallway, back down to the party, but stops when he hears Rush singing to Claire, Rush’s and the Colonel’s three-year-old. The bedroom door is ajar and through it he sees Rush swaying and holding the little girl against his shoulder.

He waits, listening to the words he doesn’t understand, but knows is Scottish. Gaelic, he thinks. The tune is mesmerizing and when Rush brings the song to an end, he lays the child down in her bed, covers her tenderly and checks the baby monitor before making his way out into the hall.

“Doc,” Greer says, softly, not wanting to spook him. Rush nods at him, closes the door and they walk towards the stairs.

Deciding not to beat around the bush, because he and Rush are way past that, he asks, “Doc, you doing okay? I saw the Colonel’s jacket while I was taking a leak.”

Rush stops abruptly. “Did you now? Ah, well. Don’t fret about it, man. I never have to wear it for very long. Everett makes sure of that.” He gives Greer a light pat on the arm but doesn’t look at him.

“Are you happy?” Greer had figured it was a fifty-fifty chance that Rush would stay on Destiny when they’d been returned to Earth.

Now Rush does look up at him and gives him a reassuring smile. “Oh, aye, I am. We’re well settled, Everett and me. I don’t regret leaving Destiny, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“It’s crossed my mind a time or two.”

Rush shrugs. “I do have the nightmares sometimes. Or if Marcus or any of the men from Haven crowd me, I have a bad moment. Maybe eventually it will all go away. Maybe not, but I won’t let it stop me from living my life the way I want to live it. I’m good, Greer. Now that my wee youngest is finally taking a much overdue nap, let’s go down and celebrate your own change in life.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Rush gives him a small push and they resume walking towards the stairs. “I’ve a mind to have a drink, and although I miss a lot of things from Destiny, drinking Brody’s finest isn’t one of them. Do you know, he’s told me he’s thinking of opening a bar when he’s ready to leave Destiny.”

“Yeah. I think he’s trying to convince Volker to go in on it with him.”

Rush snorts, and they head down the stairs. TJ has just come in the door from her shift at the ER and she and Lisa are hugging.

He grabs a beer from an open cooler. Rush heads for the Colonel, who pulls him in, gives him a hearty kiss, then hands him a beer.

Greer takes a moment to study them, still a little perturbed by finding that old jacket. They look good, maybe a bit older since they left Destiny, but the anti-aging treatment is holding very well. Rush’s long brown hair and the Colonel’s mop of dark curls look the same. Lisa and Eli always said Rush could pass for a delinquent little elf, with his fine features, small build and sometimes scornful expressions. The Colonel looks as solid as ever, sturdy and strong. They look fine and Greer decides there’s nothing for him to worry about. They’re okay.

Rush smiles up at the Colonel, who starts playing with Rush’s hair. He whispers something in Rush’s ear. Greer only catches part of it, but the “lotta, lotta work, Nick,” makes him snort a laugh. Rush grins impishly at his husband and nods, and Greer is enough of a lip reader that he makes out Rush’s quiet reply.

They’ve got plans then for after the party. So, apparently the spark that’s been so apparent between them since the first time Greer saw them really look at each other is still going strong.

He catches Rush’s and the Colonel’s eyes, tips his beer toward them in a silent toast. They return the gesture, and he takes a long swallow. He turns away and goes to find his wife, hugs TJ before sliding his arm around Lisa’s shoulders, and casts a long look around, at the kids, the families and friends, all having a hell of a good time.

Yeah, they’re all good.

The End

Notes:

Well. It's been a long time coming, but we're done. Thanks so much to everyone who kudo'd or commented on the story and for your patience. I've turned into a slower writer, alas. Most of all, thanks to the writer who wrote the story I riffed off of, for giving me permission to continue the story in my own words. Their anonymous name and story are in the links in the first chapter.

Notes:

I believe that Kiva could have done exactly what Pour Encourager Les Autres described; rape has been a tool of war and she showed enough brutality to her own people let alone to Destiny's crew when it suited her purposes.