There's Running and then There's Running

Part Two


When Jordan arrived in Atlantis, she did what she guessed was the typical "Um, wow. Pretty." thing for the first few days. Then the spectacular city kind of faded into the background of 'it's where I work.' Apparently their previous coroner had died in a lab accident. She hadn't asked for details, it didn't matter. Although she was curious about what kind of accident could be caused by a corpse. It was on her list of 'things to ask once they can't kick me out.'

She'd been tested for some magic recessive gene, but to her relief learned that she didn't possess it. Dr. Beckett, her new boss who had a voice that definitely beat Garrett any day of the week, had informed her that there was a gene therapy available should she wish to acquire the gene. Her initial reaction had been something along the lines of Experimental geneticists, always playing around to see if the next retrovirus really *will* turn us all into mice. Well, it might have been a bit more polite, but the sentiment was the same.

Even a week into her stay she still had the feeling that everyone was looking at the 'new' kid. It made her itchy. She hated feeling like she had a sign taped to her back saying 'New here! Don't know shit.' It was when she was sitting down for lunch at what she'd come to think of as 'her' spot in the mess, that she realized why she felt so out of place.

She'd realized early on that she wasn't the only one, all of the new arrivals stuck out from the veteran population. It was small comfort. She finally decided to sit back and look at it logically, see if she could spot the differences the others were seeing. It took almost forty minutes of observing the comings and goings in the mess hall to figure out what was different about the newcomers. All of the veterans, for lack of a better term, looked edgy. Even when they were sprawled out at their tables and obviously relaxed.

The military? She almost could understand that. They were mostly marines, Semper Fidelis and all that; she'd heard about the weird shit they'd had trying to climb through the shield a few times. Even allowing for some PTSD, she'd never seen military types look this edgy during downtime in Boston. She'd been in and out of the nearest military supply facility on the job several times back home, and there wasn't nearly the same subliminal tension.

It was in the way everyone glanced at the doors when they opened, even though the mechanism was nearly silent. It wasn't just the military; the scientists did it too. A strange almost twitch when the doors opened or someone dropped a fork. Not enough to be noticeable, especially with ninety percent of the population doing it, but obvious when you were looking.

If she didn't know that everyone here underwent psych evals to get in the door (and hadn't that been fun), she'd think it was a group case of clinical paranoia. It was really disconcerting to realize that she wasn't the paranoid one. And she still twitched and expected James to show up on the next transport from the mainland or something equally unlikely (Hey, it could happen). Never mind taking a long hard look at anyone who wanted to sit with her for a meal.

When she'd finished her analysis of the armchair psychiatric health, or lack thereof, of the population and turned back to her lunch she realized she wasn't alone. Colonel 'call me John' Sheppard had parked himself across from her with his lunch. She could, at a glance, identify at least three weapons on him. Speaking of paranoid.

"So, Dr. Cavanaugh- can I call you Jordan? Because we just got *rid* of a weasel named Kavanaugh, and the name makes me kind of...twitchy." He didn't bother waiting for a response. "How do you like Atlantis?"

She played with the mashed root vegetable on her plate, watching him clear a third of his plate in four bites. "It's fine. I'm fine. You don't have to play errand runner for the base shrink, Colonel. I'm adjusting just fine. Just haven't been feeling real talkative."

He blinked. "First off, I thought I asked you to call me John. Second, I tend to avoid Dr. Heightmeyer as much as the next guy. I don't 'run her errands.' I just thought you looked like you could use some company." He gestured to rest of the mess hall. "And there is the fact that it was sit here or listen to the botanists go on about P9K-002." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Not-Chicken tends to be popular around here."

"Uh-huh." She nodded cautiously. After a moment she cocked her head at him. "Well then, John, can you answer a question for me?"

John nodded. "Of course. If I know the answer, it's yours. Within reason, naturally."

"Naturally." Jordan set down her fork. "What happened here to make everyone so jumpy? Because anywhere else and this entire population would be on mandatory medical leave."

John raised an eyebrow. "You say that like it's happened to you."

She looked away. "It's... a long story."

"Yeah, I've got a few of those." He paused, considering something. "Hey, you been out in a Puddle Jumper yet?"

Jordan frowned. "Those little funny looking ships you guys use to go the the mainland?" He nodded enthusiastically. "Nope."

"Then why did you say funny-looking? They're not, I'll have you know. They're very aesthetic in their own way."

She shrugged, unwilling to argue the point. "Saw one out my window the other day."

"Ah. Well, would you like to see what they're like? I've got a few hours free; I was thinking about running out to the mainland. Want to come?"

She opened her mouth to refuse, then reconsidered. "Sure, why not. I just have to let Carson I know I won't be around. I'm sure he won't mind."

"I'll meet you at the bay in twenty. And bring a swimsuit if you have one."

She blinked. "Swimsuit?"

"They've got great beaches just South of the settlement." With that, John was up and heading for the door. "Remember, twenty minutes."

Jordan was left staring after him. The beeping of her watch dragged her attention away and she realized she was going to have to run if she wanted to beg off with Carson. God, a beach sounded good. As she was walking out the door to the mess hall she realized he had neatly avoided her question. She contented herself with the fact that she would have the trip to and from the mainland to ask again.

To Be Continued.
Take Me Elsewhere:

Part 1
Part 3 - Coming Soon.
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