Interlude 1: Puzzles

"I do not see what is foolish about obtaining gifts for your mid-winter holiday." Teyla, when he caught up to her, was bent over a stall displaying an array of brightly colored dresses. Clothes, he thought in misery, it WOULD be clothes. Shopping for clothing ranked somewhere below root canals, though above Wraith, in Rodney's personal hierarchy of Things To Avoid at All Costs. Root canals, at least, were a necessary evil.

"Yes, but it's after Christmas already, and by the time she gets this, it's going to be way, way, way after Christmas."

Teyla straightened up. "I believe that you said you wished to maintain a better relationship with your sister, did you not?"

"Well, not in so many words, no ..." Under Teyla's level stare, he withered. "Look, I absolutely suck at these things, okay? I haven't bought a Christmas present since, um ..." He tried to remember the last time that he had bought someone something for Christmas. Then he tried to remember if he ever had. Surely when he and Jeannie were children --

Teyla patted his arm lightly. "That is why we are here to help you."

"Yes, just to make my living hell complete," he groaned.

The rest of Teyla's "we" chose that moment to show up, appearing out of the crowd bearing suspiciously knife-shaped bundles. Rodney wondered if it had been too much to ask that they could have just stayed in the artillery aisle or wherever they'd gotten off to.

Sheppard sidled up next to him with a look that made Rodney brace himself for the feeble attempt at humor that was no doubt percolating in what passed for Sheppard's brain.

"I think this one's your color, Rodney."

"Oh yes, har, very funny, didn't see that one coming."

Teyla studiously ignored the peanut gallery and picked up a silky purple thing that cascaded through her fingers like water. She raised it to the light, watching the interplay of subtle colors. "I think this would look very beautiful on your sister, Rodney, don't you?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Sure."

"What sorts of colors does she prefer?"

Rodney spread his hands. "I don't know. How am I supposed to know?"

Teyla folded the fabric carefully and laid it back down, with an apologetic smile at the shopkeeper. "Because she is your sister, perhaps?"

"Regardless of how it's done on Athos, Teyla -- normal, heterosexual male siblings on Earth do not do their sister's hair, borrow their makeup or discuss clothing styles. Jeannie could have grown up wearing plaid sports jackets and I wouldn't notice or, more importantly, care."

Teyla picked up another dress -- this one a deep, rich, jewel-like blue -- with the slow deliberate movements that people often assumed around Rodney when they were trying not to hit him. "How about this one?"

He was finally starting to realize that there was no graceful way out of this situation, so maybe the best strategy was simply to give in and get it over as quickly as possible. Never let it be said that Rodney McKay didn't know how to change plans on the fly. "Yes, yes, that one's great. She'll love it. Let's get it."

Teyla sighed. "Rodney, the gifts for your family should be things that you choose because you think they would like them, not things that I choose for you. I cannot imagine that your gifting customs would be greatly different from ours in that respect."

"You guys have Christmas?" Sheppard asked curiously, cutting across Rodney's annoyed huff.

Teyla smiled and held the dress against her own slender form. "Not as such, of course. But we do have gifting days, such as the Harvest Moon festival that we hold each fall." She looked at her male teammates, a bit hopefully. "What of this dress for me, do you think? Might Corlan like this color? There is a festival of his people next month and I had hoped to find something new for it."

Ronon grunted softly and Sheppard, grinning, held out a hand. "Pony up, big guy."

Teyla shot them a look of exasperation. "Kindly do not tell me that you were betting on --"

"On how long it took you to mention his name, yes." Sheppard snapped his fingers at Ronon -- a very Rodney-like gesture -- and a small knife with a leather-wrapped hilt was slapped into his palm. He pocketed it with a cheerful smirk.

Teyla's narrow-eyed look swiveled around to Rodney, who raised his hands hastily. "Hey, don't look at me! I'm not a part of this!"

"Liar." Sheppard sounded betrayed.

"Well," Rodney qualified, "not today anyway. Look, look, could we get back to Shopping Hell and get this over with sometime today, please?"

Teyla dropped the blue dress in a manner that a very unwise person with a high pain tolerance might describe as petulant. "That is fine, Dr. McKay. I shall select a dress to wear to Corlan's festival and you may choose gifts yourself, or not, as you desire."

Now Sheppard and Ronon were giving him a nearly-identical look: the "Rodney, you are an insensitive clod" look. As if Colonel Hotpants and Ogg the Caveman were any better with the female half of the species, especially a recently besotted representative of the female half who'd been driving them all crazy by regaling them with the charms of her new beau.

Rodney marched off into the crowd to be by himself for a while and try to find the Pegasus Galaxy equivalent of an electronics store, or at least some sort of booth that sold anything remotely interesting.

"Keep your radio on!" Sheppard hollered after him. Rodney didn't deign to reply.

******

"These lovely little dolls -- I believe I will take one. Can you wrap it up for me?"

Sheppard left off studying a display of archery supplies to come and hang over her shoulder. "Teyla, don't tell me you're still shopping for Rodney while he's off sulking."

"Yes, if you could wrap it in some of that nice fabric with the leaves, that would be perfect. Colonel, please do not crowd me."

"You are! Teyla, stop giving his ego that kind of ammunition."

"I am purchasing these things to send them from myself, not from Rodney," Teyla informed him archly, accepting her package from the shopkeeper. "I believe that I would like to try my hand at gifting Rodney's sister, as well. Should Rodney choose to trade for gifts as well, that would be all for the best, but I do not think he requires or wants my help in this matter."

Sheppard fell back to rejoin Ronon, and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "Yep, she's pissed."

"But I am not deaf," Teyla said loudly.

"Oh look Ronon -- guns!" Sheppard grabbed his arm and towed him towards a booth displaying antique-looking firearms.

Once they were safely out of both earshot and striking range, he nudged Ronon as the other man hefted one of the guns. "Nice to see women are the same all over the universe."

Ronon looked down at him and raised an eyebrow. "Seems to me you two are digging your own hole."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ronon snorted, sighted down the gun and replaced it carefully. "Let's just say that if you end up with a few extra bruises at your next sparring session, you'll deserve it."

"Oh, taking her side, eh? You know, I remember a time when you didn't speak unless you were spoken to."

Ronon snorted again. "If I've got something to say, I'll say it. Just don't usually have anything to say."

"Yeah, you've had surprisingly little to say about ..." He made air quotes with his fingers, though it was an open question whether Ronon had the slightest idea what the gesture meant " ... 'Corlan the Brave', the best lover in two galaxies."

"That's because you and McKay have had more than enough to say for all of us."

"We're worried about her," Sheppard protested, checking the sighting on what appeared to be a Genii gun -- a very old, battered Genii gun. "It's entirely unnatural the way this guy's swept her off her feet. Creeping me out."

Ronon checked over the trigger mechanism on a gun that resembled nothing so much as a blunderbuss. "Yeah, because you've never got the hots for a woman offworld."

"Okay, look, point taken, but I think I'd worry less about her if it was just a one-night stand. She's actually serious about this guy. She'll be talking marriage next."

"So what if she does? She's an adult." Turning his head, Ronon added, "There's McKay."

Sheppard found himself glad for the distraction. Thinking about the possibility of Teyla settling down somewhere, quitting the team -- it bugged him, more deeply than he wanted to contemplate. "Huh. I would've thought his snit-fit would have lasted longer."

"Maybe his sense of direction's just bad."

******

Although he couldn't remember ever specifically shopping for Christmas gifts, Rodney was pretty sure that he'd done so at some point in the past, because there was something very familiar about this growing sense of panic as he wandered past one shop after another, all so similar and so completely useless. Dresses, scarves, bags, jewelry, improbable art objects, food, spices -- where, in all of it, was the one gift that would make Jeannie's face light up, that would make her think that Meredith wasn't actually a lousy brother, after all? The gift that would make up for all the many birthdays and Christmases that he'd sent her nothing?

Even if such a gift existed, the odds of him finding it -- especially in a couple of hours -- were astronomical. If he guessed at a few variables, he could probably calculate those odds. Another useless skill.

He stopped to study a table filled with heavy glass bottles and leather pouches of various spices. Useless. Completely useless. He'd spend the whole time looking for something and then at the end, he'd grab the last item from the last booth on their way back to the Stargate, and she'd end up with the same look that she'd worn upon seeing his "gift" for Madison that he'd swiped from Weir's desk. It had been a thoughtful gesture, damn it! Wasn't it supposed to be the thought that counted anyway?

"Your sister appreciated the Athosian tea that I gave her. I believe she might like it if you bought her an exotic tea."

Rodney darted a sideways peek at Teyla, who had materialized at his elbow carrying an armful of packages. She didn't look like she was about to hit him. On the other hand, Teyla could move fast when she wanted to.

"Tea?"

Teyla nodded at the various bundles of what looked like dried sticks and leaves spread out on the shopkeeper's cloth in front of him.

"That might be nice, except that I haven't got a clue what she likes, and I'll probably pick something that'll make her break out in hives. Which one do you think would --"

Teyla sighed. "Rodney, gifting is not like one of your science problems. There is not a single right answer. Touch them, smell them, and choose the one that you like. Even if the taste is not among her favorites, it will make her think of you. That is why we give gifts, is it not?"

He started to snap back with an automatic response -- "Well, obviously" or "That's absurd" -- but stopped with his mouth hanging open as her words sank in. It was the same feeling he sometimes got when he was working on a tough physics problem and suddenly everything came together -- that familiar, bright flash of insight, the feeling of rightness as the solution snapped into place.

Presents aren't stuff. They're tokens. A gift is not the thing itself, but a placeholder for the giver.

He'd never realized that before. Then again, he wasn't a person who'd given or received a lot of presents in his life.

Teyla was smiling just a little. Rodney shut his mouth and made a noise like "hmmph" as he bent over the table of teas.

There is not a single right answer.

Cautiously, he picked up a bundle of herbs and sniffed at it.

"Here, look." Teyla took one bundle and broke off the edge of one of the leaves, crushing it between her fingers and sniffing at the residue. "Like this. This is how you tell if it is fresh, and make sure that they are not trying to sell you a cheaper herb with a stronger one masking its smell." Bending close to his ear, she murmured, "If they see that you are self-assured and know what you are doing, they will not try to offer you last year's stale teas or inflate the prices."

"That seems needlessly complicated," he murmured back.

"It is all part of the process of haggling," she explained. Her eyes were bright and excited -- the same look that Sheppard got when he was contemplating flying or blowing something up. Teyla was in her element here, Rodney realized, doing her "thing" just like Sheppard behind the controls of the puddlejumper or Rodney himself in his lab.

He wondered, with a sharp stab somewhere under his ribs, if this was what she'd rather be doing -- not chasing Wraith around the galaxy with the Atlanteans, but wandering through marketplaces, not with an alien like himself but hand in hand with someone of her own galaxy, someone who understood her in a way that those of Earth could not. Maybe it wasn't this Corlan guy she'd fallen for, so much as familiarity -- the allure of the normal life she'd never been allowed to have.

Teyla was still talking; he'd missed some of it. "It is understood, in bargaining, that each party seeks the better deal. You must show them that you are knowledgeable and not to be trifled with."

And something clicked. "Like project funding reviews!"

"Yes," she agreed, sounding just a bit confused. "Whatever that is, I am sure that it is similar."

Feeling a little more confident, Rodney sniffed at various bundles of leaves and even tried Teyla's break-it-and-sniff-it trick. He wondered if it was just his imagination that the shopkeeper was looking at him with a trifle more respect. Probably. Some of the herbs smelled disturbingly citrusy, and these he hastily put down and wiped his hand on his pants. Others reminded him of various familiar Earth spices: this one was a little like licorice, this one like cinnamon with a chocolatey undertone.

He finally settled on one that reminded him of hazelnut coffee, and another that had an almost cherrylike scent and left a spicy aftertaste in the back of his throat. "She'll probably hate them, you know," Rodney informed Teyla as they walked away from the tea shop.

"If they are not to her taste, then she will put them on a shelf and whenever she looks at them, she will think of faraway worlds and of you." Teyla smiled at him. "Now, you must find a gift for your niece."

"I don't know a thing about four-year-olds. I don't like kids."

Teyla tapped her forehead lightly. "Think, Rodney -- think. Giving gifts is as much for you as for them. Do you see anything here that she might treasure when she is grown? What of something that you might have treasured as a child?"

"They don't sell chemistry sets in the Pegasus Galaxy."

She refused to be baited, merely continuing to smile at him, before her attention was drawn by a selection of colorful fabrics, hanging beneath an awning and swirling in the warm breeze. Rodney fought, unsuccessfully, not to roll his eyes. More clothes shopping for that festival of the whatever that she'd been talking about incessantly -- well, incessantly for Teyla, anyway.

"So ..." he said awkwardly, hanging around outside the awning's shade while Teyla held up swatches against her wrist. "This, um, this Corlan guy --"

Her back was presently to him, but even Rodney was attuned enough to Teyla's moods to see her shoulders grow tense. "I do not wish to discuss it, Rodney."

"Look, you do understand that we don't, we're not, uh ..."

Teyla sighed and took down another swatch of fabric. "Rodney," she said without looking around at him. "I have observed you and John enjoying the company of many women, have I not?"

"Well, I wouldn't say enjoying, exactly, most of the time, or many, at least not in my case --"

"Rodney, please. I acknowledge that you two are adults -- technically," she added under her breath, "and therefore capable of making your own decisions on such matters without unwanted advice. Kindly grant me the right to do likewise."

All he could do was look away. He hated conversations like this and didn't know why he'd tried to have one with her. And Teyla was right, she was an adult. There was just something freaky about the way that this Corlan creep, in a few short weeks, had taken over her brain. It was like she ate, breathed and slept Corlan. The team had only met him once, and Rodney hadn't been impressed. His eyes were too, uh ... blue. And his shoulders were far too wide to be remotely attractive, not to mention that Rodney didn't know how Teyla could stand that jutting lantern jaw; it looked like it would take your eye out ...

Aw hell, he wasn't jealous of Teyla's boyfriend, absolutely wasn't; that was just sick and wrong. Well, all right, maybe a little bit jealous, even though anyone with muscles that developed had to spend way too much time working on them and probably didn't have two brain cells to rub together. But it had just happened so awfully fast. One minute she'd been normal Teyla, and the next --

He was worried about her. No, worried about them. The team. They'd lost Ford, yet somehow survived. If Teyla left --

Something hit him in the shoulder. Rodney turned his head, train of thought derailed, fully prepared to chew out whatever clumsy oaf in the crowd had bumped into him. Unfortunately the oaf turned out to be Sheppard, and the thing that had bumped into his shoulder was Sheppard's fist in a mock-punch. Ronon loomed behind him, eating -- was that an ice cream cone? Well, it was stuck on the end of some kind of pastry tube rather than a cone, but it sure as hell looked like one.

"Rodney, you have to see these."

Sighing and giving Sheppard his best put-upon look, he allowed himself to be led down the row of booths, relieved to get away from Teyla and the conundrums that she presented. "What is it now? Have you discovered some new and exciting form of explosives? I can't wait."

"No, no, better than that. This is something that you'll like." Sheppard deposited him in front of a table with a number of various objects spread out on it. He was vaguely aware of Ronon flanking him on the other side, not really trying to box him in but just settling, by habit, in that protective position. The scientist and his guards. And he didn't want to think about how good it felt to have that, and how much he feared losing it if his concerns about Teyla came to pass. They couldn't fall apart. They wouldn't. They fit together, they all did, in a way he'd never known people could. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this.

"Oh joy," he snapped, staring at the array of various ... things that had caught Sheppard's magpie-like attention. "What's this, a medieval pinball game?" Rodney picked one of them up, an arcane contraption with a lot of little levers and tubes, and a small brass ball poised at the top of it. Tilting it, he watched the ball run down one of the tubes, then stop at the next junction where it was blocked.

"They're puzzles," Sheppard said, lifting a set of interlocking rings and fiddling with them. "Cool, huh?"

Actually, he wasn't about to admit it, but they sort of were. Some of them were so obvious that he could see the solutions just by glancing at them. Most of the others he could figure out if he stared long enough, but a couple of them completely baffled him -- not that he was about to admit that, either. He picked up one of the more -- ha -- puzzling ones, a box made of many small, sliding panels of dark-colored wood, inlaid with patterns in a lighter blond wood.

Even if the taste is not among her favorites, it will make her think of you. That is why we give gifts, is it not?

Rodney carefully turned it over in his hands, fascinated by the way that the dark wood, so deceptively plain at first glance, caught the light in delicate filigrees as its golden inlays were revealed -- intrigued by the cunningly concealed panels, nearly impossible to open, locking the box's secret heart away from casual view.

He'd found Madison's gift.