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Aberrant: StarGate Atlantis - [SGA - Mid-Season Break] Making the Team


Teagan Shae Ammer

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"With all due respect, ma'am," Bates gritted out, "she's a damn menace, not team material. Neither of them are."

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Dr. Weir sighed and resisted the urge to rub her temples. "Captain, this is not a request. You insisted on a team that included Sgt. Moreau. According to Dr. Heightmeyer and Dr. Fitzgerald, separating her from the sergeant at this point would hinder her recovery." She held up a hand before the Captain could interrupt her, "In addition, Dr. Fitzgerald has been able to make her own connection with Ms. Amara, one that could prove critical in understanding the Wraith and helpful in establishing allies and trade partners in the Pegasus Galaxy." She leaned across the desk towards him, "That is still the primary mission of any team that goes through the Stargate, Captain. If you're going to take a team out, those are the terms."

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He's considered training them both at the same time, but between crazy and ice queen he was pretty sure he'd snap a neck in the first five minutes. So currently the makeshift was occupied with exactly one inhumanly strong Captain of the Atlantis Expedition and one broken blonde waif of girl that should have died ten thousand years ago.

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"Can you understand what I'm saying?" He peered at her, trying not to spook the loon.

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Inoae nodded quickly, not wanting to anger the volatile male. "Yes."

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"Good." He stalked around her and she stilled completely. "You're going to be on my team," he announced and she flinched just a little at the underlying thread of anger in the words. He ignored it. "I don't like this, but I don't have a choice. If I'm going to take you out through the gate, I'm not going to tie up one of my soldiers babysitting you every time. So, you're going to learn how to defend yourself."

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He waited for some acknowledgement from her, but she just stood there - completely silent and still. It was creepy. He prodded her with a finger. She stumbled and fell to the floor, a dark bruise already spreading out under the white t-shirt. He heard how hard she hit the ground and she didn't even put out her arms to break the fall or cry out in pain. She just laid on the floor, the bruise slowly yellowing and fading completely under the shirt as he watched. Jesus, I'm gonna kill her and she's not even gonna try to stop me.

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"Get up," he said, ignoring the waver of nervousness in the words. She stood up, back into the exact same waiting stance she'd had before. For a long moment they both stood there. "Let's get you to the infirmary, before you bleed out internally or something."

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"This one-" she swallowed and started again, her eyes glancing up at him furtitively. "I am not damaged now. I am learning?"

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“Fuck if I know what you’re learning.” Bates reminded himself that he wasn’t helping him or her. Impatiently, he shook head. “No, you aren’t. You’re doing… nothing. That’s the exact opposite of what I need you to do.” He sighed, trying to resist the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Do you know how to fall down? The right way to fall?”
Inoae looked slightly panicked, which told him she didn’t know and didn’t want to say. “Rule one. It’s fine to tell me if you don’t know. I need to assess your skill, and I won’t get mad at you for not knowing something.”
“Thi- I do not know the right way to fall.” Inoae barely whispered the words, but it was a step of progress.
“Good. That’s the first thing I have to teach you. Once you know how to fall, you can do it safely and prevent injury. And I don’t care that you can heal that quickly. I don’t want you to get hurt in the first place.” Bates took a deep breath and moved to stand so she could see him from the side. “When you start to go down, tuck your chin, fold your knees and let yourself roll back across the ground to disperse the energy.” Bates let himself fall backwards, demonstrating in exaggerated fashion. He landed with a satisfying boom against the mat. “That loud noise is good; that’s the sound that force makes when being dispersed right. From here, you can use your momentum to bring your legs over and kip up, or you can keep rolling and end up on your feet.” Bates lifted his legs up and curled his body with ease, exulting in the strength he now possessed. His feet came over his head and propelled him into a backward roll, leaving him in a comfortable crouch. “You try it.”
Inoae centered herself and then fell backwards. The fall was nearly perfect; rough but that would fix itself with practice. She didn’t quite manage to keep up the momentum and when she tried to complete the roll, she folded sideways instead, ending on her knees not her feet. “This one is sorry!” she squeaked immediately, hopping to her feet. “This one will try again!”
“Whoa, stop. You did fine. I said we’re learning falling.” Bates hated this. He didn’t have the patience to hold her hand when she started to freak out. “I was just showing off with the roll.” She didn’t look appeased so he said, “I was doing more than I needed to do because I enjoyed and because I was trying to be impressive.” Jesus, am I going to have to explain everything to her?
“I was impressed.” Inoae’s words were too quick and rote for him to believe.
“Right. Look, let’s set rule two right now.” He crossed his arms. “You’re going to make mistakes. You will screw up. I’m not going to get upset unless you try to hide them from me or you refuse to try to correct them.” She now looked vaguely horrified and Bates grunted angrily as he realized he probably shouldn’t have told her she would fail. Maybe if he gave her a way to atone, in her own head. “Alright, anytime you screw up, you’ll do ten pushups immediately. Got it?”
“Yes!” She immediately threw herself to the floor and started doing them.
Bates watched a second before moving to stand over her, a foot on either side of her body. He grabbed her wrists and, lifting her upper body in the air, adjusted and shifted her hands. Then he stepped back two paces and grabbed her hips, straightening her back. Last, he cupped the top of her head and lifted it so she wasn’t looking at the mat anymore. “Do them right, Inoae. Count them off.”
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Inoae had been trained to understand the bounds of rules and the cost of breaking them, even if she didn't know the rule or had broken it unintentionally. Captain Bates was kind, providing her a punishment she could accomplish on her own and didn't involve broken limbs or concussions. It interrupted their session - constantly - but it did keep the lunatic Lantean from freaking out every time she didn't do something perfectly the first time. It also gave the session a certain syncopation: show her a move, she'd try it out, do some push-ups, try it again, do push-ups, rinse and repeat until she got the move down, then go to the next move. She was a fast learner, even with the push-up interruptions, and for a while he could forget just how completely mental she was the rest of the time.
They were working on her kicking form when the lights to full brightness. Bates glanced out the window and frowned at the setting sun. They’d started mid-morning and hadn’t stopped for a break yet, surely it couldn’t be evening already?
“That’s enough, Inoae.” She stopped herself mid-kick with that weird intensity she had, pulling herself back into the waiting pose that still grated on him for its utter submissiveness. He ignored the time for the moment and stepped back in front of her. “Feet shoulder width apart. Clasp your hands behind your back. Loosely, you’re cutting off circulation in your shoulders like that. Shoulders back, face forward.” He looked her over, then nodded. “This is called standing at attention. When someone is talking to you or you’re waiting for orders and you’re standing, you stand like this. No hunched shoulders, keep your head – and your eyes – up. I won’t have someone under my command walking around like they’re defeated all the time, understood?”
“Yes, sir!” She said sharply. He’d taught her that early on, too. The silence or the cringing apologies had just gotten too creepy and annoying. If Weir was going to make him take her out, then he was going to make her into at least a halfway competent soldier.
Her blue eyes tracked him, a seemingly blank wall of obedience. Under his command? I am his now? Yseult Moreau does not like him. Why would she give me to him? She kept her panic concealed in the way he’d commanded her to stand, her heart beating fast but not a single muscle betraying her fear. No, he is one of Expedition Leader Weir’s males. Did Yseult Moreau anger the Expedition Leader?
“You did good today, Amara.” He’d told her that her ‘last name’ was Amara now and that’s how he’s address her. So, she was Amara with him and still Inoae with others? So many names. Dr. Olivia Jennings-Izumi had said that ‘last names’ were meant to show ‘family’. She was part of the Amara family now, then? Were there other Amara family in the hive?
“We’re both going to the infirmary now,” he continued and she could hear the annoyed growl in his tone. “Weir said to report all unusual things to the doc and McKay, and working out for eight-plus hours without either of us really breaking a sweat is ‘unusual’. Then you go back to Sgt. Babysitter until tomorrow, okay?”
He caught the flicker of confusion in her expression before she could even get out a “Yes, sir!” and corrected himself. “Sgt. Moreau, Amara. Come on.”
She watched him carefully as he gathered up his things and led her through the hallways to the infirmary. The Expedition Leader had given her to him and he was now giving her back to her Yseult Moreau. Until tomorrow, at least. He was a very strange male, so like the ones of her old hive in some ways and yet not. It was confusing and she could not yet predict him. He was a male of the Expedition Leader and she had seen her Yseult Moreau defer to him, meaning that he was a most highly regarded male of the Expedition Leader. And now she was under his command; predicting him was a matter of survival, both for her and her Yseult Moreau.
She nodded to herself as they walked. Protecting her Yseult Moreau was everything - without her, Inoae would have no place in the new hive; they would not even make her food. Her mind shifted in ways she didn’t understand but that had served her well for longer than this male’s civilization had existed. He must be known, he must be predictable. Deep in her mind was the buried understanding: it would be the only way to control him.
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Bates was trying, in all manner of the word. He was trying to be a good leader to everyone, including the mental cripple he’d been saddled with by Weir. He had other duties and other trainees, though he was able to get Evana and Moreau to help ensure they were combat-prepared. He would never admit it, but he’d felt a twinge of sadistic glee when he’d assigned that ice-bitch Fitzgerald to Moreau’s care, and an even larger moment of delight when he’d told Evana to make sure Bannon was field-capable.
That left him more time to focus on Inoae. Sadly, he was sure that Evana and Moreau were getting the better ends of the deal. He had to start using a timer on the training so he didn’t lose hours with her. He particularly didn’t want other members of the expedition to start gossiping about the two of them being alone for long periods. The last thing he needed were rumors of favoritism. He certainly was aware she was hot, if you liked broken waifs. Give Bates some more meat on a woman’s bones—though not as much as Moreau.
“Here’s what you might be wearing in the field.” As Bates spoke, Inoae stood at attention. The floor behind him had a straight line of impeccably laid-out gear. “Sometimes you will have less, depending on the mission. But this is the maximum you will be required to carry for yourself. You may have to hump more. Carry more. Gear for the mission or other people. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!” Inoae stared at him; Bates swallowed and ignored that intensity.
“Here’s how you carry it.” Bates helped her pack and pull on the gear. Then he took it off, laid it back out and ordered, “Repack.”
Inoae started the process. Bates sighed, knowing that it’d be a long day. Properly packing all the gear was a fine art, modified through years of precision placement and long military experience. She’d have to do it ten to fifteen times, even with her ability to pick things up. “No,” he said, when she started to pack the MREs in the wrong pocket. “Not there.”
She immediately hit the floor, doing her punishment pushups; Bates waited until she was done. When she put them in another pocket, he said, “No, Amara.”
Again with the pushups, again with third attempt. The next hour was exactly like that, with Inoae messing up over and over and doing her pushups. Each failure unnerved the girl more and more, until she was almost shaking with frustration. Finally Bates grabbed her arms, stopping her motions. The girl stiffened, then forced herself to relax. He made himself soften his grip so he didn’t bruise her again. “Inoae, stop. Just stop a moment.” She was already frozen, but he dragged her across the room to the balcony, taking her outside. “Sit.” As always, she complied, and he sat behind her, close enough to keep his hands on her shoulders. “Breathe. Just relax a moment. You are getting way too worked up.”
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She sat, quickly falling into the near completely stillness she always did when she was told to stand or sit somewhere without any other instructions. He hated how you could barely tell she was breathing when she did that. He rubbed her shoulders, reminding himself to be careful and not break her collar bone or something. "Relax, Amara." She just sat there, blinking and presumably looking out over the water, but he couldn't feel even a twitch in her tensed muscles. He wondered if that was from freaking out over the packing or if she was just always like that. "Do you even know how to relax?"

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"I do not know the word." He felt her muscles tighten, just slightly, as she admitted her failure.

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He felt her start to move up to do her push-ups, he pressed on her shoulders to keep her sitting. "Stay." He lifted his hands up just to make sure he hadn't hurt her; her skin was clear. He let out a sigh of relief. He was learning control, but dammit, it wasn't easy. Especially when people seemed to love pushing his buttons for fun. He started massaging her shoulders; few people on the Expedition knew it, but he was damn good at massages. Six weeks with an overly attentive (but not unwelcome) nurse after he'd dislocated his shoulder and broken his wrist on one of his first missions had taught him the right ways to move skin and muscles so make someone relax - or not.

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Of course, Amara had to be stubborn or loony about that as well. She just sat there, staying tense and completely unresponsive. He increased the pressure, finding the knots in her muscles and slowly working them away. "Relax means to...not be tense. To let your muscles be loose. To not be..." you "...afraid. To feel safe. Can you even do that?" The last was asked rhetorically, but suddenly all the muscles under his hands shifted, loosening. She didn't slump or go completely limp, she just relaxed most of her muscles. On command. Freak. Why would you even know how to do that?

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"I am relaxed now," she said quietly, but there was a quiver in her tone that said something was still wrong. "I...I am not being afraid, but," she turned to look at him, her expression carefully blank, "I do not know how to feel safe."

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Bates pondered what she’d just said, meeting her blank blue eyes. His dark ones narrowed in thought and she hastily dropped her gaze to his chest, then to the floor. “Stop acting beaten,” he said, and his voice sounded weary, even to him. “What the hell did the Wraith do to you anyway?”
He regretted it the second he said it, because for a long moment, she seemed to be drawing up her memory and preparing to tell him. Instead, her muscles tensed as she quietly admitted, “I don’t know how to answer.” A beat later, her muscles went soft again.
“That’s okay, Amara. I’m not sure I want to know.” Bates started to massage her back again, his thoughts far away as his hands flowed through the familiar motions of healing. He had been on missions following up and giving relief aid to survivors of Gou’ald attacks. He’d seen some of the fucked up atrocities that they had committed on people.
There had been one boy in particular. He’d had haunted eyes; they’d been black, not blue. But they reminded him of Inoae’s eyes, only hers were a thousand times more empty. Fuck.
“Safe means… knowing that the people around you won’t hurt you. Not intentionally. That we’ll risk our lives for your life. You’re going to be on my team. Every person on that team is going to work hard to make everyone in the team safe.” They damn well better, even Bannon and Fitzgerald. “That’s what being on a team means. I will give my life to keep you from harm, and I expect that you’ll do the same. I expect that everyone on the team to do the same.” Or they will answer to me.
“See, if I didn’t know you, I’d say that me giving you a massage means that you feel safe around me. But I know that you’re waiting for me to do something terrible to you, aren’t you?” He put his hands on her shoulders, to keep her from trying to flinch away. “You are afraid of me, aren’t you?” He felt her start to tremble. The thought that she’d let him hurt her whispered from the dark part of his soul and he ignored it. “I can handle you being afraid of me. But never lie to me, Amara.” Bates squeezed fractionally and released the second he realized he’d started. Damn it. This is a bad idea.
Deliberately, he released her and moved back until he was sitting against the wall. “Do you have a better idea what safe means now?”
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"I am 'safe' with the team I belong to?" She twisted herself to look at him, confused at his moving away. She blinked and corrected herself, "Your team. I am 'safe' with you?"

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Bates let out a breath. That's a start, I guess. He nodded. "Yes, Amara, you're safe with me." Probably.

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The alien watched him with those blank blue eyes, blinking slowly. She crawled over next to him and turned back around in front of him. "Massage means I feel safe?"

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"No, that's healing therapy. You feel safe when you feel confident that I won't hurt you." She could hear strain in his voice and he was sitting as tensely as she usually did. It was confusing. Why was he acting like a slave? He was male, one so highly placed that he was put in charge of females in the hive. Why was he holding himself back, not doing whatever it was he wanted to do? What does he want to do?

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"Healing....therapy? Healing for the mind?" She reached out slowly, waiting for him to push her away or tell her to stop. She touched the back of his hand, then slowly turned it over. She frowned, tracing a pattern on his palm and looked up at him again, her eyes now cerulean confusion. "You have Gift for the mind?" It was a strange idea and something she had never heard of in her old hive. But then she'd probably just not been told or been too stupid to understand or remember. Her new hive was full of so many strange, surprising things.

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“No, your back. Your muscles. Your body.” He caught her hand in his, gripping it tightly. “That kind of touching is inappropriate to do to a senior officer.” Bates ignored that his touching hadn’t been entirely appropriate either. His grip forced her wrist to bend in a angle that wasn’t exactly comfortable. He held it there a moment, watching her face as she kept it bland. “If that hurts, show me. I’m stronger than I was, and if I hurt you, show me.”
Even as she complied, releasing that blandness by wincing, he let go of her hand. “Back to work, Amara.” He rose easily to his feet, and offered her a companionable hand to stand. They returned to the rucksacks and worked on correctly packing them, over and over. Bates did what he could to shorten the learning process; he shared every trick he’d been taught for remembering the packing.
By the time his alarm had gone off and Wilks had shown up to spell him for a time, Inoae had gotten it right. “Good.” He unpacked the bag, wondering if it bothered her that he kept taking it apart. “In three hours, I’m going on an evening patrol. You’re coming with me. You’re free to do whatever you want in that time, but have the bag packed and ready to go by twenty-hundred. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Good. Be ready or you’ll owe me some pushups. Oh, and I suggest you have some dinner before tonight.” Bates nodded to the soldier before stalking out of the room without looking back. She’d have it done, and done right, or not. He wasn’t going to hover over her; he had things to do.

At twenty-hundred, he stalked back into the room. He was actually in a decent mood; the reports hadn’t been too bad, and dinner had been good. Bates had looked for her at dinner, but Inoae hadn’t been in the mess at the same time. He hoped she’d eaten; the night was going to be long enough without doing it hungry. “Well, Amara, let’s see your packing skills.”
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She nodded and held out the pack to him for inspection. It was good, not perfect, but good. "Close. No push-ups, we'll be humping it enough tonight. Repack and you'll be able to feel what's off by the time we're done." She jumped at his command, doing her best to remember what he'd shown her. She hesitated a few times, over the pieces she still wasn't packing correctly, and got a little closer. Her left side and one point on her back would be rubbed raw by the end of the night, but he didn't correct her. She'll learn.

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He pulled out one of the Atlantean hand-held little computers and handed it to her. It had a map pulled up of the city. "We're going from here," he pointed to where they were, "to here." He pointed to one of the nearby towers. "We're going down to the base of this tower and going up as far as we can in eight hours. We're checking for damage and cataloging what the rooms on each on floor actually are." He shifted his own pack on his shoulders. "Understood?"

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She took the GPI and studied the map, then handed it back to Captain Bates. "Yes, sir!"

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"Then, move out!" He pushed her to get her moving and the two headed out. The hallways were dimmer now, lighting up as they passed through the area and then going dark again once they were through. The porter took them the base of the main tower and several flights of stairs took them beneath the main floor of the city. Bates used the override codes he'd gotten from McKay to open a sealed door to the lower levels of their tower. Water rushed around their legs, not enough to knock them off their feet but still enough to soak them up to their knees. The stairwell emptied out quickly, but the water had done it's damage centuries ago. The stairs were a mangled mess hanging in tatters for three floors.

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"Amara, come here." He turned her around when she stepped up to him, rummaging through her pack for her climbing gear. "We're going to climb up, so stand still while I put your harness on." He had to reposition her several times, getting her to spread her feet and lifting up her arms to loop the rope around her and secure it tightly. He pulled on harness, tightening it more and more until he could see the rope digging into her flesh. "Amara," he said in a deceptively soft voice, "I gave you an order before. The rope is too tight. Does it hurt?"

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She hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, sir."

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"What were your orders?" He still hadn't loosened the rope.

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"T-to say when it hurts. It hurts."

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He let the rope loosen and finished tying it off and securing the clips. "Don't make me tell you again, Amara," he growled. "Now help me get my own harness on."

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It took longer, with him giving her directions, and then securing pinons to the wall for the actual climb. Halfway up Bates discovered he could just push his fingers into the wall and make his own handholds; he scaled up quickly and sat on the lowest stable steps, watching Inoae finish struggling her way up. Once she was on the steps with him, he pulled off her harness and handed the rope, clips, and pinons to her in a tangled mess. "Repack and lets move on."

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Bates silently watched Inoae repack her bag. She managed to do it a little worse than before but he didn’t comment. There were some things that could only be learned through hard trial and error. “Faster,” he said, enjoying it a little when that flustered her. She caught a mistake and started to drop to do pushups, only Bates reached out and caught her shoulder. Her hair tangled around his fingers and he knew it probably pulled, but she didn’t say anything. “We don’t have time for your punishment in the field.”

Inoae looked upset at his words, but Bates didn’t offer her another outlet. She had to be able to handle this on a mission without dropping and doing pushups. “You packed yet?”

Inoae hurried through the last stages, and Bates knew that her pack was going to cause her more pain than when they left the training room. “Yes, sir,” she said quickly, hauling her pack back into place.

“Move out.” This time, he didn’t need to push her; she started her lope immediately. The next few hours were pleasant, in their own way; they moved through the buildings, cataloguing rooms, assessing damage and doing a lot running. All was going well when Inoae turned right instead of left. “Amara!” Bates roared, stopping her in her tracks. “This way!”

She started to fall into her pushups, then caught herself. Bates didn’t give her time for more correction; he grabbed her by her combat webbing and jerked her into the right hallway. “I said no pushups!”

“Please, sir.” The girl looked horrified at being left without an avenue of punishment and Bates once again marveled at what the Wraith must have done to her.

“Fine. Amara, when we’re in the field, I’m your punishment.” His fist curled more tightly in the padded strap of her gear. “Every time you make a mistake, know that I’m seeing it too, and I’ll get your punishment when we get back from the field. You’ll pay for every mistake then. That clear?”

Her body, tense where he was half-pinning her, relaxed. The fear in her eyes eased away to be replaced by calm—not forced calm, but it was clear that she needed tight boundaries, external discipline and someone managing her. “Yes, sir.”

Bates released the pale blonde and resumed course along their path. They jogged along in silence for a long time. While they moved, Bates was mulling over his newest team-member, determined to figure her out and get the best performance from her. “Amara, you don’t understand safe. Do you understand trust?” Jesus, I’m not even winded. I can talk normally. This is incredible.

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Trust is...knowing." She spoke with the stilted carefulness he'd learned was her way of hesitating. "Knowing how they will act. Trust is knowing." The pack was digging into her back and rubbing a spot on her left side painfully. She'd weighed his command to keep going against his command to tell him when she was in pain and decided that since the pain was her fault, for not packing correctly, and he'd ordered her to keep going more recently, that it was more important to keep going than to tell him about her pain.
I guess that's a version of trust. "It's a place to start," he muttered to himself. "Team members have to trust each other. You have to trust that your teammates will do what they say and that they'll keep you safe, keep you alive. You trust Moreau, right?"
She kept moving, but didn't answer for several moments. "Moreau is...I belong to her. I...trust...it...does not matter, if she makes me safe or lets me stay alive. Or does or does not do what she tells me. I am hers." She paused and he almost said something, but she spoke again. "The better I know her, the better I can be hers. The better slave I can be." She nodded, remembering the word Dr. Fitzgerald had taught her.
Bates stiffened a bit. Without breaking stride, he cast a look over his shoulder at her. “After the freedoms given, after everything you have been told, you still think of yourself as a slave?”
She didn't blink or alter her own stride. "I am a slave. I am owned by the hive. Dr. Fitzgerald said the correct word of someone owned is 'slave'." Her brow furrowed and she asked tentatively, "Was I to be told something else, a different word?"
He saw a tremor run through her and panic flash through her eyes. "If I am not owned by the hive, not a slave....I....what am I? This hive would not use me for food." The fear stayed in her eyes even as she kept walking, still following the last orders she'd been given.
"You belong to us, but it should be by your own choice." Bates wasn't looking at her, but he was speaking loudly enough for her to hear. "Everyone is free to be what they want. If you want to be slave, that's your choice." He glanced at her expression, sighed and added, "The difference between the slave Dr. Fitzgerald mentioned and the slave that you are is choice. You could leave the Hive, if you wanted. We'd try to talk you out of it, because you're crazy out of your damned mind and you'd be dead within seconds. But if you're Moreau's slave, that's your business."
She tried to follow what he was saying, but it just didn't make sense. She matched as many of the words as she could and tried different meanings for the words, but no combination worked. "I...I don't understand."
Bates sighed. "No, because that'd be easy and helpful," he muttered. He stopped and turned to her, catching her by the upper arm. "This is what you need know: you belong to this group. When you're on my team, you belong to me. If it helps you sleep to think of yourself as a slave, then think that. So long as you follow orders, we'll be fine."
He saw that same shiver pass through her, her version of a very quick panic attack. It had been made clear that Yseult Moreau was considered a lower rank than Captain Bates; he was in charge of the team and had claimed her. Unlike her old hive, her Yseult Moreau could not simply take her back. This was a male that did not have to answer to her owner - a male that could, just did, claim her permanently. "Y-yes sir."
+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+
Bates watched her doing push-ups and decided to change things up. He bent over and pulled her up. "No more push-ups. Jumping jacks now. Start with your feet together and arms down at your side. Jump and land your feet shoulder-width apart and clap your hands over your head at the same time. Count them out."
She nodded and started jumping, picking up the simple exercise quickly enough to need no correction. Bates sat back and watched her, considering what he'd learned during the patrol and what he was going to have to do to make her a credible team member. At least she could keep up with him.... He let her reach two hundred, then stopped her by pinning her arms to her side. "That's enough, Amara." He made face at her and stepped away, releasing her arms. "Go shower down, you stink. I'll stow the gear. We're done."
She nodded and glided off, ghostly silent as usual. He unpacked their gear, shaking his head at the mess she'd made of it by the end of the night. He stowed everything away, frowning; she hadn't said anything, which went against his orders. That would have to be addressed. Tomorrow night. He headed to the cafeteria, grabbed breakfast, and headed back to his rooms for his own shower. He almost didn't notice her, still wrapped in drying towels and tucked away in the corner of the bedroom, curled up with her knees tucked under her chin. The looney Lantean had apparently followed him home.
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Before his transformation, Bates would have utterly flipped out, in his own anal-retentive, control-freak sort of way. Now he paused, anger rising in him. With effort, Bates restrained the urge to break something. While there were plenty of targets, the military had taught him how to deal appropriately with his anger and one waify little alien was not going to undo his control. He took his gear and put it on the table, sorting it carefully. “What are you doing in here?” he asked, his voice careful as he organized his gear with compulsive attention.

“I belong to you, sir. I am your slave now.” Amara’s voice quivered with fear.

He reminded himself that she didn’t mean it. “Amara, while you may choose to play the slave as it pleases you…” Bates’s voice trailed off as he realized that it was pointless. The finer points of slavery by choice and by force were lost on her. He’d told her that she belonged to him and to her, that included moving into his room.

Taking a deep breath, he sat down in a chair facing her. “Our society operates on conditional obedience. My team obeys me within certain parameters. Outside of those parameters, they don’t have to obey me. I expect and can act with the belief that my orders in military situations will be followed to the letter. If I ordered Moreau to shot herself in the head, she could ignore me.”

Amara looked horrified. “Would you not punish her?”

“I might try, but I’d be in the wrong.” How the hell was he sitting here, trying to explain this basic concept to her? Why was he doing it? Bates knew that answer, though. He tried to do right by the people in his command, even when they were absolutely fucking nuts.

“You can order her to do anything.” Amara’s eyes were wide and clearly unsettled.

“I can’t—” Bates grimaced. “This is giving me a headache. Amara, sort that gear and store it in that cabinet over there. I’m going to shower and think.” Without waiting for an answer, because he knew she’d obey, he grabbed clean clothing and a towel.

The shower only bought him time; he didn’t have more answers when he got out. But his gear was put away and he was clean, which helped his mood. He stepped out in the room to find Inoae back in her corner, but with his gear out of sight. “Take two,” he muttered as he dropped the dirty clothing in the hamper. “Amara, did your master ever ask you to hurt or kill yourself?”

Amara looked unsure. “I do not know what you mean by ‘master’. I had many, depending on whom I’d been given to.”

Bates stilled the anger that answer provoked in him, though his fists clenched. “The one who owned you.”

“Only when I deserved to be hurt for something, when it was too low for even one of my Keeper’s males to punish me.” Amara stared at him with that disconcerting stillness that he hated.

“Good god,” Bates muttered, pressing his hand to his forehead a moment. “Amara, you have to obey me when it’s something to do with the team, but you can choose who your master is. Just because I give orders to you sometimes doesn’t mean I’m your master. If you want to have Yseult be your master, that’s your choice.”

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For the second time his words sent her mind tumbling for their meaning. Her thoughts slipped in and out of swirling memories, losing her grip on the now and tripping her through too many fractured memories. She couldn't understand him, understand what he wanted from her, and now he'd claimed her. Or hadn't claimed her. He kept saying things that made it seem one way or another or maybe something completely else.

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"I...I don't understand," she whispered. "Who do I b-belong to? Who owns me? I-I don't understand." She took a shuddering breath, her eyes wide and shimmering, though she didn't cry. Bates wondered for a moment if was something she hadn't been allowed to do before. "I am not yours?" she stared up at him desperately, "I am not Yseult Moreau's? Who do I belong to?"

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He saw her arms begin to shake, the tremors spreading through her entire body. She slowly curled up even tighter on herself, the trembling only stopping as she went completely rigid, her eyes staring out past him and not seeing anything.

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Bates stared at Inoae as she collapsed, wondering if he should call Weir. If the commander of the expedition saw the girl like this, she’d have to recognize that Amara was not suitable for field work. But even as he thought that, Bates’s rejected the thought. Amara had been given to him to manage, and Bates was determined to handle this himself.

He stalked to the unseeing Inoae, grabbed her by her forearms and tried hauled her to her feet. She refused to support herself, holding herself in a tight ball. “Fucking stand!” Bates roared in his best drill sergeant voice. That failed to rouse her and he spent a good ten minutes trying to snap her out of it through shouts and shaking. Feeling out of options, he released one arm and lightly backhanded her across the face.

Bates still wasn’t accustomed his strength and ‘light’ was still subjective. He didn’t break her neck or smash in her face but he held her arm still while he violently shoved her body. The resulting force pulled her shoulder out of socket. It worked, a little; Inoae wasn’t drawn into a tight ball anymore but Bates could tell she wasn’t completely aware of where she was. He’d seen someone experiencing a traumatic flashback. He started to pick her up and realized her shoulder wasn’t right. “Damn it,” he muttered, feeling bad for having hurt her. There was a time and place for pain, and this wasn’t it.

“Hold still. Hey! Look at me, that’s an order!” He got a flicker of response from her. “This is gonna hurt.” Quickly, he pulled the arm back into socket, then went and got one of his belts to secure her arm to her body. “Leave that on until its healed.”

Picking her up, he carried her over to the chair he’d been using. He sat her in it, then wet a washcloth and pressed it to the back of her neck. “Tell me about it. Whatever you’re remembering. Talking about it will help.” When she didn’t respond, he pulled up her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. “That’s an order, Amara.”

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"Hoc esse Custodis," she mumbled, her eyes still far away. "Hoc esse Custodis. Hoc esse Custodis. Custodis huius vitae amet enum...."
She kept mumbling the same few sentences, dulled with the sound of rote repetition. He frowned, trying to follow the words and string them into something that made any sense. Like anything she says makes sense. "Who's telling you that, Amara?"
"Custodis est vita-" She blinked mid-recitation and furrowed her brow at him. Her eyes came back into focus for a moment and then blanked out again. "Primum custodis scriptor mares salvus hanc. Primum custodis scriptor mares, hoc dant, unum ad decemuir. Custos huius vitae amet enim."
He took a breath and reminded himself not to break her jaw. "The keeper...loves you?"
"This one is nothing without the Keeper." The Anctient babble was annoying to translate, but the flat, dead tones of her English was far more chilling. "Is this one worthy to be given to the Keeper now?"
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Bates stopped, realization falling over him like a slap across the face. "Son ova bitch," he murmured to himself. She was completely broken. She couldn't operate without someone being her Master. It wasn't like the girl he'd known back in Colorado Springs, who spent her weekends tied up and being beaten by men and laughed about how fun it was on the weekdays. She'd told him she was a slave on the weekends, and when he expressed disgust she'd explained that slaves had the power. They had safe words and could leave any time they wanted. They were free to stay and be slaves.

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But Inoae had been a real slave, not a weekend slave. She'd been that way for so long that she wouldn't take the power that Bates was offering her. She wouldn't choose to be a slave because it had been taken from her for so long. She had been beaten down so far that she couldn't pull herself up anymore. She literally needed someone else to do that for her.

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"God damn it." This girl had no business on a team, but protesting that fact to Weir wouldn't do any good. A civilian couldn't understand what was needed for a true team. She couldn't know that having a weak link on the team didn't weaken it; it made it completely unstable. The team had to rely on Inoae as they would anyone else, but she was too weak to support herself, much less anyone else. She needed someone else's strength.

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"Etiam, Inoae ..." Damn, should he call her by her name or not? Slaves didn't get names, depending on the culture. "Etiam, paulo unus ... Dignus es Custodis."

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She nodded, still shaking from tension and emotional exhaustion. She leaned against him, slowly slipping out of the chair; Bates had moved without thinking, catching her and settling the two of them on the floor. She curled up on his lap, putting herself completely in his control but with an almost innocent trust instead of the completely broken limpness that she usually displaying. "Is unus est gratus. Regina debet esse cum illa Custodis."
Her expression went slack again, but after a moment she looked up at him. "Ergo vestum- this one, I am yours? Is...is that where I am being? Your team? I belong to you on your team?" She hesitated again and he could feel the tremors running through her entire body. "I stay with you?"
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Bates sighed softly, his breath rustling her hair. He'd never asked for this burden. "Yeah, you belong on my team and you belong to me." He couldn't have a team where Inoae was looking to one of his subordinates for orders. So he had to have a team where he owned one of his subordinates. God, I hate this galaxy. He hadn't come to Pegasus following exploration or excitement; he'd been following Colonel Sumner, a man he respected greatly. Now he was some kind of freak, taking orders from Shepherd and responsible for a broken alien. I should have kept the receipt so I could return her, he thought sourly. "For better or worse, you're mine."

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This didn't feel particularly right but Inoae needed strength and he'd give her his, if that's what it took to make a team. "Now, get the hell off my lap. I have work to do, and you need to put on more clothing."

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She jumped up off his lap immediately, which unfortunately shed the towel that had been vainly trying to cling to her throughout the entire encounter. His mind flashed back to her walking naked through the camp after they all went freak and he turned away to give her privacy she didn't know she should want.
She paused for a moment, then went to the built-in dresser and opened the drawers until she found his shirts. She pulled on one of his t-shirts, then hesitated again, then pulled on a second one. They hung so far down her shoulders that the short sleeves nearly reached her wrists and they hung near to her knees. She turned back to him, her eyes on the floor in front of him. If she'd been normal, she might have said something or asked a coy question. Being Inoae, she just waited to see if she'd acted correctly or if he was going to punish her.
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"That's..." Annoying. Exactly what I asked for. Sexy. "... a good start. How about wearing your clothing?" She gazed at him and he realized that he needed to be more specific. "Put on clothing that was given to you."

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"This one... I have my clothing in Yseult Moreau's room." Inoae said, looking as if she expected to be beaten for speaking.

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"Good. Put on the clothes you were wearing before you stripped and go get clean clothing from Moreau's room." She started to strip again; he averted his eyes and added, "Bring whatever you're going to need over here. You're staying with me." Fucking hell, this is going to be fucking exhausting. Not to mention lacking privacy. "And if Moreau has an issue with it, send her to me."

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Yseult stood on the balcony off her and Inoae's room, arms folded on the railing as she puffed on her last cigarette. It was fucking unsatisfying. She was far more aware of the components making up the smell and taste of the cig, but she could have gotten used to that. But there was no delicious rush of nicotine hitting her system. Her enhanced immune system considered it unhealthy so took it upon itself to eliminate it with no input from her. A test with some Athosian moonshine showed that it was unlikely she could even get a buzz not, let alone drunk.

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She loved the enhancements so far. She really was a God-damned super-soldier - she'd make Master Chief and Marcus Fenix her bitches. She hadn't slept yet since getting buffed, and while she was greatly enjoying giving that frigid squint Fitzgerald lessons in being a soldier, she had to be careful not to actually tear her in half.

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There were other things that were starting to irritate. She'd grown two inches taller, and while muscle mass had stayed pretty much to the same proportions, according to Bannon, her muscle density had increased by 31% and bone density by 47% - weight was at 243, but she still looked better than she ever had, off-season or on. Her clothing was quite tight now and she had to requisition a new boots after she ripped her old ones apart.

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Her libido was as healthy as ever, maybe more so - Hells, Captain Evana had her thinking back to her old gymnastic camp days. Unfortunately, things had been unsatisfactory there too - men just couldn't keep up. She faked it for Ford, but he'd been exhausted way too soon for her enjoyment. Maybe some extended leave on the continent. If one man can't cut it, maybe I just need a six-pack...

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Unconsciously, Yseult had been listening to those passing through the halls outside her quarters, when her ear twitched, catching the sound of familiar, light footsteps. Nostrils flared as she sniffed, confirming who it was by scent. She flicked her butt over the railing into the pristine, white-capped ocean, then glided predatorily (she didn't seem to move any other way) in the main room as Inoae shuffled in.

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Her eyes were on her feet and she didn't look up as she edged towards the smaller side room Inoae had taken as her own. Yseult quirked a dark brow. She had thought Inoae was getting over her usual timidity, at least a little.

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"What's up, Inoae?" Yseult asked. "Bates, is he being too hard with the training?"

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Not that she actually expected Inoae to complain if he was. Hmm, Bates now, there is being a man who might keep up and I not having to worry about breaking. Too bad he is being an asshole and my commanding officer.

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"The ceiling," Inoae responded to the first question with her usual literalness. She was walking differently, not cringing or hugging the walls, at least as much, but striding with some purpose through the rooms to her dresser. "The training is not 'hard'. I am learning." She knelt at her dresser, opening each drawer and pulling out the clothes that had been found for her - mostly BDU's, and one Athosian outfit the girls of the village on the mainland had made for the Wraith survivor.

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"Inoae, what is it that you are doing?" Yseult frowned at the strange behavior. Normal Inoae was annoying enough, but focused Inoae was usually the prelude to something worse.

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The blond continued to empty the drawers into neat piles. "I am getting my clothes."

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Up close, Yseult could smell the dried sweat on Inoae's clothes and the water still clinging to her hair, the faint smell of peppermint oil still clinging to the drops. "Why are you getting your clothes?"

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She hesitated, glancing up surreptitiously at Yseult, "Captain Bates told me to get my clothes because I am staying with him now."

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"Bien," Yseult muttered without much thought, when her eyes narrowed, catching the faint hint of Bates' scent on the slight blonde. She couldn't know it was only transfer from the shirt Inoae had worn. "Why are you staying with him now?"


"I belong to the team. The team belongs to Captain Bates." She looked around for something to carry her clothes in, eventually using one of the shirts as a sort of bag, settling the pile so it wouldn't fall out of the neckline or shoulders. She looked up at Yseult, her forehead creased in worry. "He said to bring clothes and anything else I would need. Do I need more than clothes?"

"You are belonging to yourself, Inoae," Yseult grunted with a mental tiredness she no longer felt physically. "Bates, he is leading the team. It is not belonging to him."

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Yseult folded her thickly muscled arms and shook her head, mouth tight. "Attendez! Forget about the damn clothes for a minute. Inoae, you are not needing to share his room, just because he is saying so." Her icy blue eyes hardened in anger. "And he cannot be making you share his bed. If he is, he will be punished by Weir. But only after I am having words with him."


Yseult took a deep, steadying breath, locking away thoughts of her father in the deep, dark room in her mind where she kept them. "Are you wanting to stay with Bates?"


Inoae had clutched at her clothes, her muscles tensing at Yseult's first words, but by the time the soldier had finished the Lantean was relaxed again. "He said if you had an issue with this, that I was to bring you to talk to him." She looked around the room and picked up the pile of clothes, satisfied now that she had 'what she needed'. "I will take you to him now?"

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"Yes, I am thinking that you should." Yseult snorted, holding Inoae back from rushing off with a solid hand on her slight shoulder. "Un moment. If you are wanting to do this, take the toiletries you were given." Yseult pointed towards the small bathroom they shared, then bent over to reach an empty duffel bag and tossed it to Inoae. "And you can be carrying your things in that."

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Inoae quickly packed the bag - in the order that you pack a soldiers pack, though not quite as neatly, and then lead the way out of Yseult's quarters and back to Bates'.

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Yseult stalked into Bates' room right behind Inoae, giving the Captain an insubordinate glare. "What the fuck is being this?!" She growled in warning tones. "Sir."

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Bates glanced up at Yseult, eyes already narrowed from the irritation of paperwork. "Sergeant." The greeting was a mild reprimand, but he didn't add to it. "You'll need to specify what you're angry about."

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Inoae slid along the wall, timid as usual around any arguing, and looked for an unobtrusive place to put her bag and herself.

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"Sir." Yseult took a step back and stood at attention, while giving no hint of backing down. Privately, she had to admit, asshole that he was, Bates wielded a greater degree of command than he used to. "I am questioning why a superior officer is commanding a subordinate of the opposite sex to share his quarters." Her last word was full of scathing bite. "Sir."

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Bates smiled a little. "At ease, Moreau." He waited until she compiled, then sighed. "Amara knows I command the team. As such, she thinks she... belongs to me, now. You and I, we know what to think and feel about that. She doesn't. Are you following me?"

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Yseult frowned, eyes flicking to Inoae for a moment before meeting her commanding officer's levelly. "I am supposing so..."

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"I... told her that was okay." Yseult could see the guilt and unease flicker over his face at his confession. "I tried to tell her otherwise and she went into a-- Have you seen a soldier slip into a PTSD fugue?"

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Bates saw a muscle in Moreau's jaw twitch, an eyelid flicker. PTSD was never easy for a soldier to talk about, another's even more than their own. The pity, the fear that it could happen to them. "Yes, sir. I have, sir."

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Yseult pointed at Inoae with a jerk of her chin, quirking a questioning brow. "Her?" She'd heard Inoae toss and turn while sleeping before, talking and whimpering in her sleep. "Again?" Isn't that damn cold bitch head-shrinker supposed to be helping Inoae with that?"

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Inoae tried to take up even less space when Yseult gestured to her, eyes wide and trying not to be in the center of the argument even though she was the center of the argument.

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"I don't know, but she had a fit on me when I tried to tell her that she had the choice to be free. I've never seen a worse case, to be honest." His dark eyes flickered over to Inoae. "In an ideal world, she'd be so deep in therapy her address would be in the Marina Trench. We're not in an ideal world. What I'm about to tell you is confidential, got it?"

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At her nod, he finished, "She's not functional; she shouldn't be on a team. But that's not my orders. My orders are to take this team, full of civvies, assholes and a headcase, and make it work. Through no fault of her own, Amara is the weak link in the team."

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Yseult glanced over at Inoae, a longer, more considering look, then nodded. It wasn't condemnation in her eyes, but agreement. In the field, you made do with what you had and the Atlantis Expedition was permanent field duty, or the next thing to it. "I understand sir." Her dark brows lowered, a hand balling into a fist at her side as she ground out, "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

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Bates made a go-ahead gesture.

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Yseult leaned forward, invading Bates' personal space, her voice dropping to a vicious whisper. "If I am finding out you are taking advantage of the girl, crazy and fucked in the head that she is, you are being found with your cock ripped off and shoved down your throat, no?" The dark light in Moreau's eyes wasn't PTSD, but simply a shadow from her past she had learned to live with. In her own fashion. "You are understanding, sir?"

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Bates just breathed for a moment. It was clear that Yseult's words had triggered some anger but he didn't immediately respond. "We don't know each other very well. We don't have the trust that comes from association and long teamwork. So I'm going to pretend you didn't just threaten a superior officer with physical harm when the appropriate action would be to report him to his superiors. In return, you're going to understand this: I don't take advantage of a woman unless she asks nicely. Amara is many things, but she is not a bed partner. Is that clear, Sergeant?"

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"Perfectly. Sir." I am also having heard superior officers saying the same before. Didn't stop them... The brawny woman stood to attention with a snap of her boots, giving Bates a sharp salute. "Permission to withdraw, sir?"

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"Granted."

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Yseult dropped her salute and gave Bates a nod before turning around. Before leaving, she paused to give Inoae a penetrating look-over. "If you are wanting to no longer stay in Bates' quarters, the offer to share mine is remaining open, Inoae. If you are wishing."

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"You can stay with Moreau anytime you want, Inoae, including tonight," Bates added.

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Without waiting for a response from Inoae, Yseult strode away with that dangerous grace she evinced, a crooked smile threatening to break free on her face. The crazy Lantean was no longer her responsibility.

,,

So why did she feel something like regret?

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