cbeckett_md (cbeckett_md) wrote in the_lifeboat,

For those left behind

Who: Nick
Where: The marketplace
When: Wednesday, June 16th, early afternoon
Invited: Everyone not offworld
Status: Incomplete

Well while a group did leave through the gate that morning for parts unknown, everyone else was left to simply go about life on Gamma. Nick was one of those left, since he wasn't entirely sure his sense of adventure was up to handling more then the wierdness he had already encountered since the announcements were made. The fact that he now lived on a world other then Earth was still hard to fathom at times, so he simply tried to put his life in as much order as he could manage. That meant being a cop once again, though today he had the day off.

Now Nick wasn't one for much in the way of shopping but his mother's birthday was coming up and he decided that he should probably try and get her something special. That is why Nick found himself in the marketplace, moving through the various booths, trying to find that perfect gift that would just jump out at him and declare itself the right thing for his mother. So far luck was not with him in that endeavor and he was beginning to think nothing would ever catch his eye.

Of course as usually happens, things are found when you stop looking for them and just as Nick was about to give up on shopping he noticed a crowd. He decided to head over and check out what was drawing people's attention. What he found was a glass blowing demonstration being performed by a husband/wife duo. The pair had many display pieces out and were in the process of showing everyone how to make a simple vase. This had definite possibilities.
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Teyla wandered the marketplace, a wistful smile on her face as she stopped by various booths and stalls to look at the wares on display. There was jewelry, fabrics, clothes, and pottery. There were soaps and perfumes, toys, and a few booths staffed by "geeks" and "techies" who put their knowledge to use off-world by building and assembling things that colonists would need, though Teyla did use the word "need" loosely. Watches, redesigned with larger watch faces for the extended hours of Gamma, clocks of the same, two way radios, some solar powered, meant to take the place telephones. Even remote control vehicles that brought a fond smile of memory to her place. She missed Atlantis and her team. She hoped, desperately hoped, that they would be reunited someday, but knew the reality of loss.

She might never see John, Rodney, Ronon, Atlantis or New Athos again.

Teyla was a modest shopper and not the least bit materialistic. She didn't need much: a few days worth of clothing, some decorative pieces for her tent. However, she still hovered at the stall with the remote control vehicles and in the end, used a few of her credits to purchase two of the "toys."

After the toy purchase, Teyla wandered more, purchasing a small bag of fruit from yet another vendor. She was a sucker for the small round fruit that looked like an earth apple but tasted like one of the hoznuat fruits from the Danube world in Pegasus.

Her wanderings took her to the growing crowd around the glass blowing, and there she stopped to observe and admire the technique, while enjoying her "lunch."
Donna loved the market. She'd never enjoyed being dropped at Acton Market to "help" her Gramps during school holidays - he had a stall there, in those days - but now it was an exercise in nostalgia.. the sights, the sounds, the smells. Well it was when she wasn't trying to make her way through hordes of people anyway. Why did everyone always shop at the same time as her?

"A bag of those potatoes, 1lb of carrots, half a dozen onions, uh, half a dozen of those appley things and-" she squinted, then nodded at the purple vegetable she'd originally thought was broccoli. "What's that?"

"Local herb. It makes good tea, or so my wife tells me," the vendor made his pitch.

Donna raised an eyebrow. "Tea? All right, I'll give that a shot too. How much?"

When he told her, Donna immediately went into outraged customer mode, with added redhead temper.

"What do you take me for, an idiot? Or a frigging goldmine?"

"Uh, someone who can't add?"

"Or a frigging goldmi-"

She clamped her mouth shut mid-rant, bit her lip, glanced at the prices by each variety of food, and realised he was right. How long would it be before she got her head round the currency here, eh? At least the weights were imperial.. she never had understood that metric rubbish.

"Right. Uh, how's about half price for the tea then." Gramps would never forgive her if she didn't at least try to haggle. "If it's any good, I'll spread the word to all the admin staff. Coffee'd be better, but it's us what orders in the refreshments."

It was the stall keeper's turn to squint. Donna squinted back, waving a couple of notes that amounted to roughly what she was offering.

"Ok, lady. Just this once."

"You STAR!" she cheered, gathering her goodies. "I'll be back, you watch."

Donna slung the bag over her shoulder and began to wonder why she hadn't chosen to grow potatoes instead of peas, tomatoes and the like. Too bloody heavy.. Oh no!

Two onions worked their way out of her bag - had it split? - and rolled into the fray surrounding one stall in particular. Donna dived after them, hoping that no-one would trip over them or her, or anything else that was bound to fall out of her bag any second.. -

Nick nodded to Teyla as she moved up, unconsciously moving aside so she could get a better view, "Ma'am." Well he may have spent a few years in Vegas, but you just can't take the Southern gentleman out of a man once it is ingrained in.

Nick might have said more but he happened to notice Donna and her trouble. He never could pass up a damsel in distress and she seemed to be in a bit of distress. Of course he couldn't just move past Teyla without saying anything as that would be rude, "Pardon me ma'am."

That said Nick moved to try and catch the errant onions, while also trying to keep Donna from injuring herself, though keeping Donna from injury definitely held more importance. At times like these a heavy background in sports, and time as a beat cop came in handy.
Teyla turned at the sound of the commotion. Her eyes took a different path than that of the man beside her, following the roll of the errant white food stuffs that were particularly potent and tended to leave the breath malodorous and made the eyes sting and water.

(Onions, oh yes, that is what they are called,) Teyla remembered. (And the members of the Atlantis expedition complained about tuttleroot.)

She brought out her foot, placing it in the path of an errant onion, while turning her body just enough to prevent the two women closest to her from stepping into the fray by accident. The onion bumped softly into Teyla's soft leather booted foot and she bent at the knees to pick it up.

The other onion was out of her reach, and as Teyla watched, it rolled further into the gathered crowd, where it would likely reach its demise if she did not act quickly.

"Excuse me, pardon me, please step to your left, to your left, forward," Teyla moved through the crowd with confident ease, gently nudging people in the direction she wished them to go even as she said the word. Her voice was calm, her manner commanding and people obeyed without thought, blinking at her in mixed confusion and curiosity after the fact.

Moments away from the impending rescue of the second onion, a very large man took a step to the left and crushed it beneath his very large foot.

Teyla winced.

The man looked down, around and then back at Teyla. "That yours?"

"No longer," Teyla replied with a faint smile. She backed carefully out of the throng, gracious and polite the entire time, and presented the onion to the woman. As the woman looked up, Teyla recognized her and put a name to the face*, offering her a sympathetic smile along with said onion. "I am sorry, Donna, but I could only capture the one rebel. The other met an untimely demise, but I do not think it suffered."

(*OOC: Seeing how Donna's bio said that she knows everyone and everyone knows her, I thought the familiarity would be there on Teyla's part.)
"Very nice," Bobby crooned. Darien felt his friend's elbow nudge his side. "Innit, Fawkes?"

Darien blinked behind his sunglasses, forcing his eyes to focus on the glass blowing demonstration. "Uh, yeah. Nice." He guessed the bulbous glass thing was nice. Mostly he wasn't awake enough yet to really care. Why he'd let Bobby drag him to the market first thing in the morning once again again was beyond him.

Bobby loosed a semi-serious sigh. "You need to appreciate the arts, my friend. This--"

"You STAR!" The shrill voice startled Darien a little closer to wakefulness.

"Hey, Donna's here! C'mon, Fawkesie." Bobby plunged into the crowd toward what looked like some sort of commotion. Darien wasn't surprised to see the Brit's red hair in the middle of it. He liked Donna well enough... but preferably in small doses. Especially before noon.

Then Darien spotted Teyla in the group. That was more than enough motivation to follow Bobby, who was halfway there. "Mr. Stokes," Bobby shouted, "is this lovely woman stirring up trouble again?"



8 years ago



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8 years ago

And Down . . .


8 years ago

Further down the way, just beyond the scarves and knitted items, Dr. Jennifer Keller (still dressed in uniform, minus a white coat) was at the candle booth... okay, merchant blanket; who was standing on ceremony anyway? On the rug, one of those made on Gamma with materials only found on this world, were decorated wax candles.

Some had raised, almost 'bas-relief' pictures on them of flowers, birds that had taken wing, and others had inlaid patterns in different colours on them, very much like stained glass when burned.

She crouched down to pick up a large white pillar candle with blues, reds and greens pressed into the wax, and, like a few others in the area, lifted her head and looked down the 'aisle' towards the gathered. Her brows rose slightly in amused askance; Teyla, she recognized, was in the thick of it.

As the brief scene unfolded, there were a couple others that she recognized, if by face and medical chart only. After all, she was one of the few SGC doctors, and one that had decent clearances.

Replacing the candle back onto the thick blanket so as not to dent it, she smiled and rose to her feet once more, though not without rolling her shoulders back a little to work the stretch in. Taking a step back, and out into 'traffic', the markets always drew more than a few people, Jennifer headed towards the group.

Waving a hand, she greeted Teyla by name first before acknowledging everyone else with a 'Hi' and that earlier wave. "Hey-- I'm always afraid I"m missing something when a big group forms... What's up?"
Nick's eyes were almost getting that glazed over look when Teyla interrupted Donna's ramblings. He blinked and looked around, eyes moving from the glassware to the scarves, "She might like a new scarf. I know she complained about having to leave so much behind." Well they couldn't take everything after all.

Nick arched an eyebrow up at Darien and Bobby. He was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, so he could understand practical, "Vintage? You know I met a lot of guys that went with the vintage look in Vegas. I never could get into it though." Admittedly some were dead, some were sleaze, and some were lounge acts... which fell somewhere in between.

When Keller walked over and joined the group, Nick nodded in her direction, "Ma'am." Since he had no special abilities and was healthy as a horse he didn't get in to doctors much. "We were just converging due to some runaway vegetables. I'm afraid there was a casualty, but only the one." He motioned to the squashed onion, "I don't think it can be saved."
Teyla welcomed Jennifer with a smile and an inclination of her head. She missed the other woman, a familiar face and connection from Atlantis and her lost world. There hadn't been much time for sparring lately, and rarely time for a shared meal.

"Hello Jennifer," Teyla greeted. She knew that Darien and Hobbes were familiar with the SGC doctor, as was Donna -- who seemed to be familiar with everyone -- but picked up on the polite distance between Jennifer and Mr. Stokes. "Dr. Keller, this is Mr. Stokes, Mr. Stokes, Dr. Keller."

Introductions done, Teyla turned her attention briefly to the discussion of clothing. Though she really did not understand the reference to 'vintage' beyond understanding that it was meant as teasing for Hobbes, she did know a few things about clothing.

"Mr. Stokes is seeking a gift for his mother," Teyla asserted."I suggested one of the lovely scarves which resulted in Darien requesting something not 'too giry.' I thought it would be a perfect time to point out that 'girly' means different things in different cultures. For example, in the Hatana culture the warriors are frequently adorned in pinks and pastels for their Honoring Ceremony."

Teyla did not mention that the Hatana reserved those colors for novice warriors, and moved onto darker colors for the experienced men. She gave Jennifer a look as well, cautioning her silence.
Jennifer made a sort of scrunched-up 'ooo' face at the hearing of the lost vegetable.. and the ensuing casualty. "Oh.." She looked around to see the onion cadaver in question and shook her head. "It's beyond my ability."

Her expression brighted quickly after, and bringing her arms up to cross before her, she nodded in the introduction, repeating soon after, "Mr. Stokes." She canted her head briefly, trying to place the face, her lips pressed, but she shook her head soon after. "No... never crossed paths." Extending her hand to finish the introduction, her grip was firm but not overmuch.

"So.." She straightened and bounced slightly on the balls of her feet. "...a gift, huh?" Hazel eyes gleamed as she cast a glance over towards Darien. Yup, knew him... "And what's wrong with 'girly' for mom?" Her brows rose even as her voice did as she addressed Darien. "There's nothing wrong with that."

Jennifer pointed her finger at Teyla and nodded her agreement. "And that too, yes." She was clearly enjoying it.

"In the Hatana..." she began, and closed her mouth quickly soon after, smiling and nodding again. "Exactly." Now was one of those times when she was glad the Atlantis files never really made it back...


"Really, though.. when you think of 'mom' you really shouldn't think grey and frumpy. Pink, girly, bright.. see, that's nice."
Nick smiled at Jennifer, and offered his hand at the introduction, "Just Nick is fine. Mr. Stokes makes me think of my father." Well actually that would be His Honor, Judge Stokes, but that is hardly the point. "We just don'e travel in the same circles is all, which is why we haven't met. You seem the sort to stay on the right side of the law, unlike possibly these jokers..." Nick signaled to Darien and Bobby with his thumb, "while I make a concerted effort to stay out of the hands of doctors if at all possible. I make a special effort to avoid splinters too." Well that was what the earlier conversation had centered around and Nick couldn't resist the barb.

Nick looked between Teyla and Keller, his brows furrowing, "Hatana? I don't think I have ever heard of them, but then I find myself hearing new things every day." Ever since the first announcement from the SGC. "Warriors in pink, huh? Well I think that is definitely a culture I will avoid. Pink is just not my color. It wouldn't do anything for my eyes."

Nick walked over to the booth with the scarves and began looking them over, "As for what would be appropriately girly, I am afraid I will need some help on that. I'm from down South where girly can sometimes mean we buy the pink hunting rifle... throw in time in Vegas where it can mean skimpy outfits and showtunes, and well... I guess I could just use some assistance. Any help you lovely ladies can extend to me would be greatly appreciated by both me and my mother." Nick paused a moment, "Though maybe we should try for a compromise between what you ladies would think is girly and what we guys can pick out. If I go entirely with your recommendation then my Mother will think I have a girlfriend and I will never hear the end of it."

The whole time Nick's posture remained casual, though he could be seen making the occassional scan of the crowd. Even he couldn't believe how easy it was to slip back to beat cop from CSI. Old habits can die hard.
"Well," Jennifer began slowly, casting a grin at Teyla before continuing, "... for the new warriors. Think of it as... pledging." Goldfish, anyone?

It wasn't really fair, using a strictly Earth term, one that she knew Teyla probably wasn't aware of. Oh, there were 'coming of age' ceremonies and rituals, complete with the marking of robes, of items... but pledging was, well... unofficial. To say the least.

She nodded, her entire body moving slowly forward in the gesture, her smile not fading. "Okay, Nick then. And from the way it sounds, my guess is, I won't see you professionally at all, which, honestly, I'm good with." Pulling a hand away, she waved it in the air, "No offense, though."

Glancing at the gathered, her brows rose again. "So... we're shopping?" An hour spent in the market before turning in wasn't a bad idea. With company, no... with healthy company, even better.

Jennifer looked to Donna before nodding over towards the men, "They'll be carrying that for you back, right? I was looking forward to your casserole. It tastes even better reheated."

A step was taken towards the glass blowers, and points beyond, though not without everyone else. No way would she lead the pack! "Teyla, I would love to restart training. I never thought I'd say this, and if we ever see Ronin again, I will deny it with my dying breath.. but I miss it." Her smile turned fond in the memory before she straightened again. "He... was rough."



8 years ago



8 years ago

Mac had a similar carriage to Nick's, casual but alert, his eyes always taking in his surroundings as he walked. He didn't run into Danny as much as he liked these days, though he saw him around from time to time. He also occasionally chatted with Nick; the two had never met on Earth but Gil Grissom's CSI team was legend, one of the top 3 with Mac's own squad and Horatio's down in Florida. Communications occasionally were exchanged between teams and it was nice to chew over the old days from time to time.

Mac still rarely had off time. It was simply his nature. He was an incurable workaholic who back on Earth had grown used to Stella kidding him that work was his hobby. But even he needed some fresh air from time to time, and there were a few supplies to be bought while he was out.

Mac watched quietly, typical of him then and now, a man who found himself more often an observer, on the edge, despite his natural leadership abilities and his experience being in the thick of things. He did fit in somewhat in this world, helping the military and police as much as he could despite being beyond the age where he could actively serve, but at the same time, he still often had a sense of wondering, of questioning what his place really was.
One thing about observers... they were rarely actually observant, at least in Ziva David's experience. Fixated on a target and blind to everything else around them. Training with Mossad had taught her that, and watching it for herself over and over simply pushed the lesson home. Now, she was more than aware of that particular trap and had made a conscious effort not to be a victim of it herself.

It had been a difficult transition in the last year or so on Gamma, but in recent months, as the weather warmed and people got out more, it became easier and easier. There was a certain bounce in her step that had been hidden away in the winter months. For the most part, she had hidden away; blame it on winter. At least she would.

Regardless, Ziva found the afternoon laid wide open before her, and there was absolutely no reason why she couldn't partake of whatever it had to offer. Things were going reasonably well for her in that Gamma had truly given her a chance to 'start fresh', or rather, at least with some things. She was what she was, and she didn't mind... and it actually helped the small colony.

Pausing in her own shopping of dairy produce; eggs were always high on her list, as was cheese, fresh vegetables... she noticed a somewhat familiar face simply lingering on the edge. The edge of what could easily be answered; all she had to do was look around, and there it was, plainly. Exhaling, a touch of a quixotic smile hinted as she approached Mac quietly.

Ziva stopped just behind him, and raised slightly on the balls of her feet to give her a little height, her softly accented voice offering a single word, "Boo."
It wasn't too great of an idea to surprise Mac, but she couldn't know that of course. He whirled around, instinctively ready to fight even though the voice hadn't sounded really threatening per se. It was simply a natural gut reaction for him, put into him by so many years of being a soldier and a police officer. He saw who it was though and after a few seconds he settled back down, managing an apologetic smile.

"Oh, hi. Uh, sorry...Ziva, is it? I guess old military-slash-cop instincts never really die. It's good to see you though" he said.
Stepping back quickly, Ziva's hands rose, palms facing out in a warding gesture, her smile not fading, though her eyes narrowed somewhat. "A-ah.." was given in a calm voice, and as she saw Mac's eyes register that recognition, as spare as it was, she began to lower them slowly.

"Yes, it is... and no, they do not." Her voice was canted low, her softly accented voice carrying easily. "I would always rather they not, yes?" Inclining her head in gesture towards the gathering beyond, her brows rose. "It is good to see you too. Why are you not over there... and..." She paused, searching for the correct word, "Stirring?"