Fic: Warrior (2/4)
Story info and warnings can be found in part 1.
The rule held until the sanctuary planet, and then, a few days after John’s picnic with Chaya, McKay called him in for chair diagnostics. John normally enjoyed these sessions, but this time McKay was all business.
"Okay. All done. You can go."
"Okay," John said, and he got up, stretched and walked to the door. Before opening it, he turned. "Rodney?"
McKay tensed before he looked up. "Major?"
"Everything okay?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" But John wasn't going to be the one to say it. He waited, watching expressions flit across McKay's face. John raised his eyebrows, a silent, Well?. "Okay," McKay said, drew a breath, and looked down. "The benchmark is, well, unreachable." John had no idea what he meant, and let his face show it. "Hot babe Ascended being versus, well..." McKay gestured vaguely toward himself.
"Don't sell yourself short." The words came out of John's mouth before he could stop them. The Vegas Rule only meant you couldn't talk about what happened in Vegas, not that you couldn't think about it, and John had thought about it a lot.
McKay's mouth opened slightly, eyes widening. John pulled his own face straight, nodded once, and left.
***
"Ah, Major?" Ford stuck his head in John's office door.
"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"We haven't gone back to PXC-145. The Cananth."
"I know. McKay's bugging me about getting back to that Haven and Help."
"I was wondering if we could put ourselves on a burger run.."
John looked at him. "Sanor, right? Was that her name?" John hoped he had her name right.
Ford drew himself up to a parade rest. "Sir."
"I'll take it under advisement. Dismissed."
John pinched the bridge of his nose. Chaya and her sanctuary had made him cautious about the Haven and Help of the Cananth, and up until the Wraith came he'd assigned another team for what was becoming known as the burger run. Getting involved with the locals, especially ones that glowed, worried him. This Sanor woman didn't seem to be doing any unusual glowing, but from what Teyla had said, she was probably trying to get pregnant.
The thought brought John up short. If all the Cananth had the gene, but they wanted to--what was it Teyla had said? Broaden the bloodlines? Wouldn't that mean the possibility of children born without it? They could test them at birth just by walking them into that cave. They wouldn't practice infanticide, would they? He put in a call to Elizabeth, and then to Dr. Corrigan in Anthropology.
***
The four of them waited at the gate for Dr. Corrigan, who came running up, pack in his arms and panting. "Sorry to be late. I promised Kaline I'd bring a few things when I came back."
"What kind of things?"
Dr. Corrigan was tall and dark haired, but his fair skin blushed slightly. "Hershey's Kisses."
McKay seemed stunned. "You have chocolate?"
Corrigan didn't back down, despite his now-flaming cheeks. "I brought a few bags with me, and they are not for general distribution."
"Agreed," John said, with a glance at McKay. "Just because you went through your own stash in a month..."
"I did not!"
"Anyway," Corrigan said, "I'm on an information barter system with Kaline. She won't answer my questions unless I tell her about us, too. She knows I'm avoiding anything about where we really come from, and there's not any reference for things like television or movies. Last month I got the cook to make something like barbecue sauce."
"So you're why we had barbecued rhunok ribs?" John asked.
"Man, those were good," Ford said.
"Amazing," McKay agreed.
Corrigan nodded. "And now, chocolate."
"We don't have any more of that to trade," John said.
"Not trade. Cultural exchange. It's been fascinating."
"Anthropologist fascinating?" John asked with a smile. He and Corrigan had only been on one mission together, early on when the Wraith were tracking them through Teyla's necklace, but it had left them with a catch phrase.
Corrigan snorted. "Maybe fascinating is not the word."
"Certainly not," grumbled McKay.
"Don't complain, McKay," John said. "I'm trying to get you back into that Haven and Help place." He looked up at Chuck. "Dial her up."
They stepped through the event horizon and started down the path to the left. Kanor came out of the trees about twenty feet away, his hair loose and curling to his shoulders. He tossed a rock underhand to John. John caught it. "Just keeping us on our toes?"
"It is good to see you again, Sheppard. I wondered when you would come again yourself."
"Busy herding. Guarding. You know."
"And more," Kanor added. Kanor stepped closer and raised his arm, and he and John bumped wrists. "You are major, after all." Kanor was smiling, teasing John with a familiarity that made John wonder if he missed something about the last visit. Then he remembered dancing with Kanor, and maybe that was enough. "Teyla, Ford, Doctor. And Matthew," he said to Corrigan. "Maline will be pleased to see you again."
John schooled his face. They were going to have to establish off-world frat regs. Then again, he'd brought Ford along, knowing he wanted to see Sanor.
They walked to the settlement, making small talk, but John wondered if Corrigan could use the relationship with this Maline to find out if the Cananth practiced infanticide.
"You are troubled, Sheppard," Kanor said suddenly.
John put a lazy grin on his face. "Well, Dr. Corrigan here has brought something for Kaline to try, but I'm worried you'll like it too much. We only have so much to trade."
"I do not think that is all."
"Wait 'till you taste chocolate," John said, but Kanor looked away.
When they reached the settlement and traded greetings with Kaline, Corrigan brought out a single Kiss. He laid it on a table.
"Is that metal?" Kaline asked.
"It is, yes. A thin metal called foil." He unwrapped the foil into a neat square, handing Kaline the paper tag. "Not to eat. Just smell. It will give you an idea." The paper passed from hand to hand, with murmurs following.
Corrigan took out a small kitchen knife and pared the chocolate into eight or nine pieces. "The flavor is strong, and it is sweet," he said. "It will melt on your tongue."
Kaline glanced at Teyla, who said, "I have tried it. It is delicious."
John glanced at McKay and Ford. McKay looked impatient, but Ford was amused, watching as Corrigan held out the first small slice on the tip of the knife. Kaline took it and placed it in her mouth, exclaiming as the chocolate melted over her tongue.
"And that's not even the best stuff," John heard McKay mutter.
"We have traded for candy before, but this is unlike anything... Your people invented this?"
"It comes from our planet, yes,” said John, not willing to get into the discussion of how many cultures were on his planet.
Kaline gestured for several people to come forward to try the slivers of chocolate. One or two did not appear to like it, but most looked to see if there was more. Kanor joked, “I wonder if that is what we taste like the Wraith?”
As if his words were a harbinger, the familiar whine of darts made everyone freeze. “Go!” Kaline yelled. “You know what to do!”
The Cananth did not panic, John saw, but very quickly moved to the buildings. Some ran inside, while others grabbed ropes he hadn't noticed and fixed their eyes on the trees above them, waiting tensely. John heard hurried whispers and more footsteps as the people who had gone into the buildings came out, carrying larger objects. As soon as they were clear, one of the people at the corners of the buildings called softly, and they all pulled together. The buildings went down, and the bark roofs broke in such a way that it almost looked like a natural pile. People moved in to scatter them further. They took the trestle tables apart and threw the pieces into the trees. On the ground you could tell there had been people here, but John guessed that an aerial view would not be so obvious. One group of people systematically packed the larger objects and began moving quickly up the hill along the path he remembered from their first visit. Someone went by leading a pair of rhunoks, which were bawling loudly. Corrigan looked around, beginning to panic. John wasn't sure how much combat experience he had, so he turned Corrigan toward the path and said, “You heard the nice lady. Go!”
McKay and Ford dropped back, and they set out running. Teyla glanced up, her eyes following the whine of the darts above the canopy of the trees. “I wish,” she started to say, sounding frustrated, but a woman’s scream, high and keening, broke into her words. It was a woman, and after the first scream she was trying not to yell but clearly frantic. “Shanor! Shanor!”
John looked behind him and saw a young child struggling to keep up, and a glance forward showed a woman running against the tide. No one stopped to help her. John nodded to Ford forward to continue, slipped to the side out of the stream of people, and ran back. The child, a tow-headed boy, was carrying a cooking pot far too heavy for him, struggling up the hill as it banged his shins. The Cananth, laden down with pots of their own, moved around him, so John darted in behind the boy and picked him up. He slid one arm around his middle and tucked the other under his knees so that the boy was nearly sitting, the pot in his lap, his straight hair tickling John's nose. He ran up the hill, looking for the woman.
They reached the Haven and Help before any sign of Wraith on the ground, and John could hear the collective sound of surprise when the lights brightened fully after he entered through the arch in the rock face. He could hear Kaline and Kanor explaining, and saw faces turned toward him. He scanned the crowd, trying to spot the mother he had seen. Brown hair. Straight hair. Blond. Curly. Coffee-and-cream skin. Olive skin. The Cananth were like an advertisement for genetic diversity, even though they all carried the Ancient gene. The child began to wriggle in his arms before he spotted her, and he set the boy down on his feet. His chest felt hot from the center, watching them come together.
“Shanor, what happened?” The woman asked, going down on one knee in front of the child. Her eyes were bright, as if she'd been crying. She had only one tattoo on the arm that reached for her son.
“You left the stew pot,” the boy said. “We can't lose metal, Mama. You said that!”
“I would rather lose the stewpot then you,” the woman said folding her arms around the boy, pot and all. John fought the urge to hug them both, the pounding in his chest slowing in relief. The woman looked up. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, ma'am.” He turned away, embarrassed. He glanced back once as he went to find Kanor, and saw a few of the people closest talking with the boy. He held up the pot, proud of what he'd done, and the faces seemed approving. No one looked at John, which seemed strange. Usually when this happened, people would say something to him, usually effusively. He never enjoyed the compliments, but to be ignored? It seemed odd. Maybe the Cananth weren't big on gratitude. He turned away and threaded his way back to Kaline.
Voices murmured behind him, and seemed to come from every passageway. He spotted Kanor chasing McKay, who was looking at his tablet and following his own course, barely dodging people.
"Sheppard." The voice was Kaline's. "Would you come with us?"
"Let me check on my people, first. You're sure the Wraith won't find us here?"
She nodded, seeming both to agree and to approve. "I will wait for you there." She indicated the passage McKay had taken.
John found Ford at the entrance, standing with the Cananth guards. A dart sounded above them, far away and moving fast. "You good?"
"I'm good."
"Seen Teyla? Corrigan?" John asked, and Ford nodded, inclining his head back up the wide hallway where Teyla stood talking to Kaline. "You all right?" he asked her.
Teyla nodded, then looked at Kaline. John followed her glance, and Kaline said, "Your McKay has gone to see the place of Help with Kanor. I would like to show it to you."
"I've got one more person to find." John walked through the Haven. There were several hundred Cananth here, at the very least, perhaps several thousand, if these tunnels went back much farther. It was more than came up the hill with them. He had no idea how so many had entered so quickly. He found Corrigan with Shanor and his mother.
"Everything okay?"
"We're fine," Corrigan said. "Mind if I spend the--" He turned to the woman. "The Wait, right?" She nodded. "Can I spend it here? I thought I'd talk with with Shanine and Shanor." He gave John an open look, but John thought this would be a perfect way for Corrigan to ask about what happened to the children without the Ancient gene. He nodded, and smiled at Shanine. She smiled back and reached for her son. He touched the boy on his blond head and went back to Teyla and Kaline, trying to fix the names in his mind before he gave up and started calling them the blond ones.
The corridor looked more like the interior of Atlantis than a cave, although some of the rock formed a wall. Hallways led off it, and John could hear the sound of people and animals echoing back. There seemed to be more people here than came up the hill. "Kaline, can I ask a question?"
"Of course, Sheppard."
"Are there more entrances than the one we saw?"
"Many, all over the planet."
"All over the planet?" That was what McKay had noted before.
"There is only one Haven and Help, but many paths to it."
"Can you use these paths to get to other places on the planet?"
"Of course."
"Transporters?" John said, and he looked at Teyla.
"Not what we call them, but yes. Senders."
"Senders," John repeated. "Everyone at once, or a few at a time?"
"Everyone in the chamber."
McKay's voice came down the hall. "But what I want to see is that way."
They turned a corner. McKay stood gesturing toward the corridor Kanor had blocked with one muscular arm. "McKay," John said, "Let's take the tour, okay?" John wanted to see more, too, but Kaline was not the type to be pushed. McKay glared at John, but nodded reluctantly.
They followed Kanor down a corridor. Its blues and greens reminded John of Atlantis, but as they walked further into the Haven, the patterns began to shift and twist, becoming more intricate, less angular. They came at last to a pair of closed doors. Kanor stepped aside. "Would you, Sheppard?"
John stepped up to the doors, looking for a familiar Atlantis-type sensor, but there wasn't one. The pattern on the door came to a central spiral, and John tried putting his hand on the swirl. The lines in the pattern lit up in a wave, bright and strangely calming. The door rose into the ceiling. John looked into the room.
"Our Help," said Kanor behind him.
For the size of the door, the room was not large. The dimensions were about the same as the Chair Room in Atlantis, but there were swirling patterns on the walls, Ancient in feeling but unlike most of Atlantis’ Ancient décor.An offshoot, maybe? Something religious rather than just functional?
McKay bustled past him. "All right. This is interesting."
"Interesting how?" John asked.
"The readings are a lot like the Chair." McKay made noises in the back of his throat, his thinking noises. "Strong neural interface-type readings, but--" McKay looked up. "Interface with what?"
There was nothing in the room, but as soon as McKay mentioned the Chair, John knew he was right. He turned to Kanor. "How does the Help, uh, help you?" John asked.
"Here we become."
"Clear as mud," McKay muttered.
"You do not know what you are," Kanor said. "Here you could become."
"Not this again," McKay said.
"We still don't know what that means, to become," John said.
Kaline stepped toward them. "Kanor says you guard and you herd. Your name comes from herding an animal called sheps, right?"
McKay snorted. John glanced at him, trying not to answer the slant of McKay's mouth with smirk of his own, "Close enough. I don't actually herd animals." He heard McKay mutter something about Marines.
"But herding is more than that," Kanor said. "We talked about it."
John nodded, and Kaline said, "How do you know who you are and what you do? How do you become that? The Help clarifies, removes the doubt and distraction. Could I speak for the Cananth with doubt in my voice?"
John couldn't answer. He shifted from foot to foot under Kaline's gaze, feeling as if she could see his own doubts. He couldn’t look at McKay. It struck him that McKay knew more about who he was than anyone else on Atlantis, and maybe anywhere.
A runner came to the door of the room. "Kaline, I am sent to tell you the Wraith have gone."
"Well, that's it then," said John, relieved that the questions would stop. "Business as usual now?"
Kaline looked at him. "Not here." She led him out of the Help, and John and Teyla turned McKay toward the door, against his protests. When they were back to the place where Kanor had held off McKay, John said, "Is there any chance McKay can go see what he wanted to see now?"
Kaline said, "Not... yet. Another time. Soon maybe." She looked at John, and he couldn't read her expression.
They followed the Cananth out of the Haven and Help. Ford was waiting outside the entrance, Dr. Corrigan with him. Corrigan looked like he was there only because Ford insisted, looking down the hill and fidgeting. When he saw Sheppard, he started to step toward him, then checked himself when he realized Kaline was there, too.
"Everything all right?" John asked. Ford nodded, and Corrigan did too, a half second later. John smiled at Kaline, and said, "We'll be right behind you." Kaline glanced past him, and John kept himself from turning around to see what she was looking at back at the entrance. She nodded, and turned to walk back. Very quickly she was surrounded by Cananth.
Corrigan started to speak, but John turned to Teyla. "Have you seen anything like that place before?" She shook her head. "Neural interface, McKay. What's it do?"
"How could I know? The readings were similar. That other place I wanted to check out, they wouldn't let me get to, but I think that's where the dampening field, or whatever it is, is generated."
"They have room-sized transporters," John said. "There were people in there from all over the planet." He watched McKay's face go slightly slack, the way it did when he was calculating in his head. "Yeah," John said. "That's a lot of power." He turned to Corrigan. "You get an answer about what happens to kids without the gene?"
"She said, 'They are left for others.' Near as I can tell, that means they dial the gate, find a nice doorstep, and leave the child on it."
"What is he talking about, John?" Teyla asked.
"Simple genetics. If the Cananth all have the gene, but they encourage outside blood, eventually there will be a child who doesn't have the gene. Maybe a lot of them. So why do the Cananth all have the gene?"
Teyla's eyes went wide. "They are the source of the foundlings?"
"What? You know about this?"
"Yes. We have a few among the Athosians. They are children found near the Ancestor's rings. They are always healthy and well-fed, but we have learned not to look for their family, for their people. No one ever claims them. Certainly not the Cananth." There was an edge to her voice, and John shared her feelings. They made sure the children found homes, but this was eugenics, and he didn't like the sound of it. "This would not be the day to speak of it, but I will have to ask Kaline."
They walked back to the settlement area, and found the Cananth rebuilding the structures. They were going up quickly, and John assumed they had the system down pat. He saw two people over to the side, their heads together and near crying. He recognized one as Sanor, the girl Ford was seeing. He touched Ford on the shoulder to get his attention, and nodded over. "You want to find out what happened?" Ford nodded, and walked toward them. John watched for a moment to see if he'd be welcome, and the woman stretched out her hand to Ford, not letting go of the other man man near her. They looked enough alike to be siblings, and John didn't see any jealousy. He turned and found Kaline. "Need any help?"
"Sure. You go with Kanor. Teyla, please with me. Shanor!" The boy came running. "Teach Corrigan to calm rhunoks."
"I just want a corner where I can analyze these readings," McKay said. "Somewhere the sun actually comes through." He gestured to his solar panels.
They found a spot for McKay at a break in the trees, and then Kanor showed John how their buildings went together, and how easily they came apart. It was ingenious, and John had no doubt that the Cananth, if left alone by the Wraith, could have built sturdy and strong. The collapsible frames were a matter of practicality, easier to hide. Kanor handed John a rope, and they pulled in opposite directions, and John realized they were raising the small room John and McKay had been given that first night. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want the memory of McKay, bare-chested and relaxed. He looked at Kanor, who was flushed from exertion. That didn't help, either, so he asked, "How often do you have to do this?"
"I'm not sure how you measure time," Kanor said, "but not more than every thirty or forty days. We do not lose many to the culling, but when they come on foot, they find the few who stay behind with the rhunoks."
"Like today?" John asked, gesturing over to where he'd last seen Ford and the woman. "She lose someone?"
"A brother," Kanor nodded. "She will need to dance tonight, and she will need comforting. You will stay, won't you?" John hesitated, and Kanor said, "We can't simply trade now. After the Wraith come, we must dance."
John tried his lazy grin. "No offense, but, you seem to dance for everything."
Kanor stepped closer, and ran the back of his hand down John's forearm. "We dance to remember we are alive." The gesture was too intimate, and John stepped back. Kanor merely looked at him. "No offense, but you seem to need to dance. Stay. Be alive with us. If not with me, with McKay."
John held himself, kept himself from glancing toward McKay. "I'm fine." Kanor said nothing, but John heard how clipped he sounded in his own ears. He tried to soften it. "We appreciate the hospitality, but we're expected back. Perhaps next time."
Kanor seemed to accept the excuse, and led John away from the settled area, down no path John could discern, until they found the herd of rhunoks. Corrigan stood when he saw John, but he was grinning. "My dad was a large animal vet. I never thought I'd say this, but I missed being around big, smelly, hairy things."
John raised an eyebrow, but Corrigan looked too earnest to know what else the words might mean. One look at the rhunoks and John thought he might have a point there. "Sorry to break it up, but we need to get back."
Kanor came up holding a lead. At the other end was a rhunok, brown and trusting, looking like a small buffalo. "We cannot dress it for you, but in thanks for your labor--" He held out the lead to John, who took it.
"Thank you," he said, and then looked at Corrigan. "I'll let the experienced one handle this." Corrigan smiled and took the lead. They gathered Ford, Teyla and McKay, who had shifted following the sun until the Cananth had to dodge him to finish rebuilding the settlement. Kaline called a farewell, but continued working. Kanor walked with them back to the gate. John wished he hadn't, but talking with the team could wait until they were back in Atlantis.
Kanor stopped him, pulling him away from the others for a moment, and held up his arm. John bumped wrists with him. "You are troubled, Sheppard. Perhaps next time we can go to the Haven and Help, and you can see how it helps us."
"I--" Sheppard began. "Maybe."
"At the very least, you need to dance." Kanor smiled at him.
Something about the smile would not have been out of place in a bar with loud, throbbing music--the smile of someone cruising him from across the room, and John had to blink the image away, the sense memory. "Thanks for dinner," he said, nodding at the rhunok.
Kanor nodded, and McKay dialed the gate.
***
And then the Wraith came and laid siege. And Ford was gone. And Colonel Dillon Everett came and took command. And John, meaning it, said, "So long, Rodney." And John didn't die.
***
PX4-998. The Wraith had culled the planet recently, and they didn’t expect to find any people. It was a good place to bring a new guy to see how he behaved in the field before a permanent assignment. John led his team through the gate, heading for the inevitable village. Teyla and McKay were with him, and a Marine corporal named Shane, who was half a head shorter than Ford and a good six inches broader. Shane was okay, new, but he wasn't Ford, and he wasn't easy with people. With two years at the SGC, John suspected he’d be good in a firefight, but the Mountain didn't prepare anyone for Pegasus. He didn't like calling these trips test drives, but that was really what they were.
As they walked through the cold, charred wood of what had been the village, John looked for any sign of recent life. McKay had instruments out, but he didn't seem to see any power or life signs. "Okay, let's split up," John said. "Shane and Teyla, me and McKay. We're looking for any indication that there are still people here.
Shane hesitated, glancing at Teyla. "Sir? Priorities?"
John walked over to him, and led him a few steps away. "What are you asking, corporal?"
"Is she a priority? In case of, you know..."
"Attack?" John asked. Shane nodded, and John missed Ford. "Do we need to go back to the 'gate?"
"Sir?"
"I need team members who are part of a team, corporal, even if it's a temporary assignment. If you don't trust her to pull her own weight and to get your back, then..." John let the sentence hang unfinished for a moment. "And we don't leave people behind."
"Sir," Shane said. John couldn't tell what he meant, and he wondered again they shouldn't just go back. That was his gut-level reaction. He wasn't sure what that would do to Shane's morale, or what message it would send to the rest of the Marines. Ford had been a Marine John could work with, but maybe that was the difference between officer and non-com. Or maybe it was just Shane, who seemed to be staring off into the middle distance. John tamped down a flash of irritation. Maybe he should have paired Shane with McKay, but the man needed to learn to work with what he kept calling the natives. Two years at SGC, and he didn't know better?
"Go on. Meet back here in fifteen. Follow her lead." As he said it, John wondered what Col. Everett would do. He'd been wondering that a lot lately. Shane turned and set off with Teyla, and John moved to McKay, who was still looking at his readings. "Anything interesting?"
"What?" McKay looked up. "Oh, not really. No energy. Life signs, I think."
"You think?"
"I think. Could be large animals."
John pulled out his own life signs detector, and looked at the reading. He could see the four of them, Shane and Teyla moving in an arc away from where he and McKay stood. There were other signs in the area, but they weren't clearly human. They seemed small. "Shall we check those out?"
"Yes, let's walk toward the potential predator," McKay said.
"Could be something else. Maybe the people here were just short." McKay snorted, but began to lead them toward the nearest group. John looked at his own detector. The dots fled before them, scattering. "Huh. Kids, maybe?"
McKay groaned. "Great. Orphans. You're going to want to bring them all back to the city."
"Sure, Dr. McKay," John said. "I'll let you help them with their science fair projects." It wasn't even a good joke, as sarcasm went. John felt twitchy. "Let's see if we can find them."
McKay made a non-committal noise, but he led the way. The small dots continued to scatter before them. John stopped. "Let's head back. They're scared and they won't come near us. Maybe Teyla and Shane had better luck."
When they reached the ruin, there was no sign of them. John keyed his radio. "Teyla? Corporal Shane? We're back at the site. Come in?"
"We're here, sir," Shane's voice answered. "Nothing to report."
"That is not quite true," Teyla said. "I have seen signs that there are children still here. They are hiding themselves well."
"Good for them," McKay muttered, but John said, "We thought as much from our life signs indicator, but they're staying away from us. We won't find them. Not now. They're still scared."
"Perhaps another group," Teyla said. "One prepared for children. The Wraith may have left them to re-grow the herd." Even over the radio, John could hear the bitterness in her voice.
"All right. Meet us back at the 'gate." John turned to McKay. "Let's go. Nothing to see here."
"No," McKay said, but he was still watching his instruments. "Colonel, I think we have something. They're converging on Teyla and whoever the jarhead is."
"Cpl. Shane," John corrected automatically. "What's going on?"
"I'm not sure, but Teyla has company. Just kids, so it's probably okay."
John knew that kids, especially scared ones, could be very dangerous indeed. He jogged toward the other side of the village, McKay keeping pace. Shane's voice came through the radio. "We have a situation."
When John arrived, Teyla was gone, and Shane stood waiting, blood running in a thick line down one side of his face and on his neck. "Where is she?!"
"Sir, they--" Shane didn't finish, and when John got close, he could see his brown eyes were unfocused. He was on his feet only through Marine toughness. Loose rocks, some dark with blood, lay scattered on the ground around him. "They were kids, sir. They just wanted a mom. I couldn't shoot."
"It's okay," John said, although it was anything but. He needed Shane to keep talking.
"She knew something was wrong. I missed it. I could have stopped them, but I thought they were just kids looking for a mom."
"Which way, corporal?" John didn't hold back his anger but he hid his fear. If these were kids who survived the Wraith, there was no telling what they would do. Shane pointed. "McKay, get him to the 'gate, and tell whoever's on deck to gear up and get here."
"What if--?" McKay started, and John cut him off. He needed to be moving, not listening to McKay.
"I don't care if they're kids. Shoot if you have to. Don't let them in range."
"They've got good arms sir," Shane said with a vague laugh. "Be good ball players."
"Take him before he passes out and you have to carry him." John reached over to McKay's holster, flicked the safety off, and put it back. He looked into McKay's eyes, nodded once, and turned.
John wasn't much of a tracker, but the path on this side of the village wasn't hard to find. He took it at run, fast enough to cover ground and still look for the signs. Footprints in the dirt seemed fresh, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to tell if they went off the path. This wasn't right. He stopped himself and listened, slowing his breathing, willing his heart to slow down enough that the blood would stop rushing in his ears.
Voices. Children's voices. Teyla's lower note came through the babble, but the tone was off. She was scared and trying to talk her way out of it, keeping her voice calm. John gave himself a few more seconds to be sure of the direction, and then he ran. The sounds led him toward a break in the trees, and he slowed again to listen. He could hear Teyla distinctly.
"No, this will not help you. We can take you with us and find you homes. We would be happy to feed you, help you. Don't do thi--" The word ended in a shout, and John ran again, fear skittering like hot wires under his skin.
He broke into a small meadow and skidded to a halt. A silent pile of children, writhed in the middle of the clearing. John couldn't see Teyla, but then he heard a acream from the center of the pile. "Get off!" he yelled, running forward and picking up a smaller child by the waist. It was a boy, maybe eight, and he twisted and fought. John felt something stab into his forearm, and he let the boy drop. Blood welled up on his forearm through a slice in his uniform jacket. The boy grabbed John and clamped his mouth over the wound, and John could feel the boy's tongue through the hole in the fabric, hear the sucking sounds he was making.
John froze for a second. These were children, left after the Wraith culled their parents and destroyed their village, and they were trying to suck the blood out of them. He heard Teyla moan again, and went cold.
He flung the boy off his arm, and kicked him when he attacked again. He fired his P90 into the air, yelling, "Get off her, now!" but it felt like he was doing it for form's sake. Some of the children looked up at him and rose, reaching for rocks. He couldn’t afford to underestimate them, couldn't afford to be hit in the head like Shane. They were the enemy. He shot at their feet, bullets kicking up dirt, but they didn’t stop. John dodged the first rock, took aim at a girl who looked to be about ten, dirty and thin, with a red smear around her mouth and a rock aimed and ready.
He killed her with a single shot to the head. Time slowed as her head snapped back with the impact, and she fell. He could see Teyla, staked to the ground through her uniform jacket and her BDUs, her clothes torn and stained with red blotches. The children had rocks and small knives, and they turned away from Teyla and came for him.
He backed into the tree line, shooting at a sandy-haired boy with a rock, aiming for the leg in a hope that screams of pain would slow down the others, make them change their mind. He fell with a howl, but they stepped over him. There was only one thing he could do. He fired.
When he was sure he was safe, at least from that group, he ran to Teyla. "You okay?"
"I am alive," she said. "Did you...?" Her voice broke.
John nodded as he pulled out the rough stakes that pinned her. "They were killing you, and they were going to kill me." He didn't glance at the bodies, didn't listen to the sounds that told him that some were still alive. He held out his hand and Teyla took it with both of hers, wincing as he pulled her to her feet. "Can you walk?"
"I think…" she started, but she looked past him and swayed, and John leaned down to take her over his shoulders. He was half way to the 'gate when Sgt. Bates and his team found them. There were medics behind them, and John let them take Teyla on a stretcher.
"Colonel, sir?" Bates said, "Do we need to look around?"
John shook his head. No one needed to see what he had done, and he didn't want to be forced to talk about it. "Let's get her home."
***
Teyla looked pale. There were bandages all down her arms, and an IV line taped to her hand. John swallowed, remembering the children around her, feeding on her. Carson came and stood beside him at the foot of the bed. "She'll be fine, Colonel. Most of that won't even scar. She's lost blood, but that's really only the worst of it."
"Shane?" John asked, not taking his eyes off Teyla.
"Concussion and a broken finger. Some bruises. He'll need a few days off."
"He can have a week," John said, tamping down a surge of anger. It was irrational, John knew, but he felt like Shane had dropped the ball by not understanding the threat. They might have been able to get away before anyone was hurt.
Before John had to kill fourteen children armed with rocks and knives.
"What about you?" Carson said, as if he could read John's thoughts.
"Bruise," John said. The rock that had hit him on the arm had left a purple welt.
"I'm not talking about that. You might want to talk with Dr. Heightmeyer."
"I'm fine." John clamped his jaw around the word.
"Colonel, what you just did, no one should have to do. To kill children--"
John kept his voice even. "I'm fine." He couldn't have left Teyla. Maybe if he'd been alone…. He glanced down at Teyla's bandages. "You weren't there. They were eating her."
Carson nodded. "Consider it, though, won't you?"
John agreed, then turned to go. "I need to get cleaned up."
"What's that?" Carson pointed at the tear in John's jacket. John rolled up his sleeve. "That's more than a bruise. What made this?"
"They had knives. Same kind as…" He gestured toward Teyla.
"Let's take care of this, then." Carson led John to a chair, and put his arm on the table next to it. He cleaned the cut, which was deeper than John had thought, and put in two stitches. As he put on the bandage, he brought up Heightmeyer again.
"I'm fine," John said, pulling his arm out of Carson's grip and rolling his sleeve back down.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Carson said, looking levelly at John. "Staff meeting. I'm going to ask Dr. Weir if I can take a medical team back to that planet."
John would advise against it, but he didn't say anything to Carson. He took a last glance at Teyla, and left the infirmary. Back in his quarters, he stripped down to his shorts and turned on the shower, wanting nothing more than to wash off the day. Then it hit him: he should have seen Shane. He couldn’t believe he hadn't. He turned off the water, and pulled his clothes back on, jogging through the corridors to the infirmary.
Carson looked up. "Everything all right, Colonel?"
"Is Cpl. Shane still here?" John almost hoped Shane had been released to his quarters.
"Aye. I'm keeping him over night. You'll find him back that way."
John nodded, and walked back to a bed where Shane lay sleeping. Part of his head had been shaved, and there were dark stitches surrounded by bruises and swelling. There was another goose egg on the other side of his head, and welts and bruises on his arms. The kids and their rocks had been pretty effective. Shane opened his eyes. "Sir." He said. Both eyes focused on John, and then Shane looked away. "I'm sorry, sir."
"Sorry for what?" John asked. "What happened?"
"The kids came up, and I just didn't think they'd be a problem. They came up to Teyla and they said they needed a queen and a mother, and I thought that, you know, after the Wraith had culled all their parents and trashed the town... I mean, back home I'd've worried they had bombs or something, but they looked so happy to see Ms. Emmagen."
The word queen struck John, but he wasn't sure what he thought about it. "Then what happened?"
"They started dragging her with them, and she tried to get them to let go, but they wouldn't. I tried to help, you know, pulled one off her. Then they went nuts and started throwing rocks. I got knocked out. I'd just managed to get up when you found me."
That made John feel a bit better. Shane hadn't been able to go after Teyla. "Why didn't you radio us?"
"It all happened pretty fast, sir. I'm sorry, sir. They were just kids. I couldn't see shooting at them." Shane closed his eyes. "But you found her, sir, and you got her home."
"Yeah." John didn't know what to say. He was fairly sure no one had told Shane what happened, but he let it lie, wanting mostly to leave and get back to his shower. He clapped Shane gently on the shoulder. “Get better, Corporal,” he added, and when Shane thanked him, looking as if he expected more, John fled.
The shower was not enough, but it had to be, and when he was dressed he went down to the mess hall, still feeling on edge. Here he had no one to blow off the steam with. Back on Earth, there’d always been places to find quick relief with someone who'd been there, who'd understand, and if Sheppard wanted to use his mouth instead of his hand, no one complained. It was good, and reminded him he was still alive, and he'd swallowed down the bitterness of war and made it part of him. It was hard to think about sex here, surrounded by people he couldn’t touch, but quick sex was what he had always had before Pegasus.
He didn't remember getting his tray or sitting down, but then McKay was sitting across from him. "I heard it went Lord of the Flies."
John blinked. "Something like that. Don't really want to talk about it."
"What happened?" McKay said around a mouthful.
"Didn't I just say that I didn't want to talk about it? It was--" John realized that the combination of his earlier train of thought and McKay sitting right across from him were having an effect. He probably shouldn't stand up any time soon. Inappropriate maybe wasn't a strong enough word for just how wrong it was to get hard right then, but then McKay, Rodney, sweat-drenched and begging, had been the star of some of John's weirder fantasies lately.
"Colonel?"
Maybe talking about PX4-998 would take his mind out of the place he really didn't want it to be. "The kids. They cut Teyla all over and sucked on the blood. One of them cut me, and latched on to it." John indicated the bandage.
"Human saliva? I hope you had Carson clean it."
"Of course," John said, waving away Rodney's concern. "They had Teyla staked to the ground, and they were on her in this pile. A puppy pile," John said, snorting at the grim humor.
"Wait," Rodney said, holding up his fork. "On our way to the 'gate, Shane kept saying that the kids were looking for a mother or a queen. Queens, Sheppard. Who has queens in this galaxy?"
John instantly knew what Rodney meant. "They were Wraith worshippers. That's why the Wraith left the kids, so that they could breed more food."
"And maybe the Wraith Queens did something weird, or the kids put things together that didn't make sense." Rodney nodded. "So what happened?"
"They came after me, and they had Teyla, and there was only one thing I could do." John could hear his voice breaking, and it echoed somewhere inside him. He pushed his tray to the side, unable to eat. He tried to control his face, but there was no hiding this from Rodney.
Rodney stared at him, his laden fork paused in the air. John looked away. "That means what I think it means, doesn't it?" His voice was soft, and there was a note in it John had never heard. He glanced at Rodney, and his brows were drawn, his mouth tight. It made him look as if he were working on a problem that hurt.
After a long moment, Rodney said very quietly, "The Cananth have that whole dancing thing they do. I heard what Kanor said, about how it reminded them of living, or something. You want to go there?"
"What for?"
Rodney mumbled "Get you laid if nothing else." When John looked at him he said, "I've seen how Kanor looks at you."
"Arranging my social life, McKay?" John went for sarcasm, but his voice broke again.
Rodney blushed, which surprised John. "Just trying to help."
"I don't want to go to see the Cananth." John swallowed as if he were trying to stop the next words. "I want to go to Vegas."
Rodney froze, then his eyes started moving while the rest of his body was still. "You mean that? Not just a heat of the moment that you'll regret?"
There were no take backs. Rodney was giving him an out, and he knew he should take it for all the problems this was going to cause, but this was more than after-mission jitters. This was Rodney, and it was going to mean something if it happened. He heard himself say it again: "Vegas."
Rodney dropped his glance to his tray, put down the fork he was holding, and then said, "All right. My quarters. They're bigger. Give me fifteen, then I'll meet you there."
A quarter of an hour. An eternity. Rodney took his tray and left. John followed, taking a different route out of the mess hall, grabbing the nearest transporter and taking it to a tower on the other side of the city. He found a balcony and looked out over Atlantis. She was his to guard, and the people, in one sense, his to herd. Kanor talked as if John was as sure of himself in those roles as Kanor was with the Cananth and their rhunoks.
John stepped to the edge of the balcony and took in the shape of the city, and it was as if she filled a hole in him. He belonged here, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t get past the idea that he didn’t belong in command. He remembered the siege a few months ago. Everett had landed and taken charge, and in all of the danger and insanity, for all that they had butted heads, John had relaxed. An actual warrior was in command, and he listened, adapted, and made the right decisions. The weight wasn't John's to carry any more. If it had been, he couldn't have made the Hail Mary pass, taken that jumper out with the bomb. Commanders stay behind.
John wasn't one for soul searching, but he had to do it. Why didn't he want the job he'd been doing? Because he'd been faking it. Faking who he was came from long habit. Staying behind meant giving up the adrenaline rush that had always fueled his ability to keep other things hidden. Here in Atlantis he didn’t have any other outlet: the one place where he'd always been able to completely let it go--more than the furtive post-mission getting off--was the clubs with their back rooms. They were very far away, now. He had a sense memory of a cock down his throat, and that near choking feeling, the smell of a stranger's balls sweaty from dancing, the sound of the music blotting out everything, high enough, drunk enough, and nothing in the world that mattered.
Everything here mattered. A low sun glinted off the windows of Atlantis, and this city that almost fit, that almost felt like home--it was worth it. Even after days like today, it was worth it.
John's radio beeped. "Colonel?" It was Rodney.
"Go ahead." John glanced at his watch. Thirty minutes had gone by. "Sorry. On my way. Sheppard out."
John walked back to the transporter, not hurrying, but not dragging his feet. He set the destination for the section where Rodney lived and walked to the door. This was not going to be like anything he'd ever done. It was more than jitters and blowing off steam, and he had no idea why he was doing it. Rodney opened to his knock, and he'd changed clothes. He wore a blue shirt and civilian slacks that John didn't even know he owned. He looked good, and he looked nervous.
John looked down at his BDUs and the knife on his belt. He still had his sidearm strapped to his leg. "I guess I could have changed." It sounded stupid as he said it, but he hadn't thought about what this meant to Rodney. He stepped into the room, and when the door closed, the only light was the sunset through Rodney's window. Music played through the tinny speakers of Rodney's laptop, some jazz piece that had rhythm and melody. "Sorry I was late. I was thinking."
Rodney stepped back. "Did you come to tell me you changed your mind? Or is this not Vegas enough, because it's not really easy to get neon lights in this galaxy. I mean, I could, I could--" Rodney swallowed and looked away. "I have no idea."
"No, this is fine," John said, and it wasn't and it was. "What do you want to do?"
"I thought that was kind of obvious," Rodney said, blushing. John smiled. It was easy to let Rodney be nervous enough for both of them. "I mean, I thought through a number of scenarios, from starting with a movie and a beer, or we could dance, or just, you know, go for it."
Any preamble, and John was afraid he'd change his mind. "Let's go for it."
And Rodney did the thing John least expected, but should have seen coming, given the lighting and music. Rodney stepped up, took John's face in his hands, and kissed him.
John had rarely kissed a man, and every one of those had been aggressive preludes to establish who was hotter and hornier and more in control, with pounding music in the background. Rodney's kiss wasn't like that, and it wasn't like a woman's. John tensed at first, and when Rodney stepped back in response, he moved forward, putting his hands on Rodney's flanks, feeling the soft texture of his shirt and leaning in to close the distance between their lips. They barely touched for a long moment, breathing each other's breath, and John felt Rodney shiver under his hands. John felt like he was balanced on a precipice, the moment more intense, more overwhelming than any moment in any club, with the rush of blood in his ears and the staccato of Rodney's breath providing the rhythm. He let himself fall, pressing forward and opening his lips against Rodney's, feeling Rodney's mouth tense and then soften, and the tentative touch of their tongues.
Rodney made a noise in the back of his throat, but John could feel it vibrate under his hands, and he slid them from Rodney's waist, one circling around the back to draw him closer, the other running down the flank and to Rodney's thigh. John deepened the kiss for a long moment, and then pulled back, breathless. He was shaking, and he didn't know what he was feeling, and then he looked in Rodney's eyes. There was wonder and fear, and John knew Rodney well enough by this point to know that he was afraid that John was faking it, that the joke would be on Rodney when John turned to go. That was the last thing John wanted right now. "Come on," he said. It was only a few steps to Rodney's bed, and when they were standing next to it, John reached out to unbutton the soft, blue shirt. He wanted to see Rodney's chest and arms again, and when he had them bare, he ran his hands over them, learning the contours of Rodney's surprising muscles.
"Can I?" Rodney asked, reaching for John's T-shirt where it tucked into his BDUs. John untucked it, and pulled it over his head, tossing it on to a chair. Rodney placed his hand in the middle of John's chest, over his dog tags, fingers in the hair. John reached for Rodney's head and pulled him in for another kiss, this time rougher and more demanding. When he pulled back for breath, their mouths barely apart, Rodney said, "What do you want? What do you need?"
John didn't know the answer. He wanted what he always wanted, a cock down his throat, but he didn't want to rush this. This was the opposite of mindless club sex. This took every ounce of his attention, and he was here, now, doing nothing but this. "It's all good," he said, the words meaning more than the dismissing slang. "Really, I..." and he couldn't finish with words. He kissed Rodney close-mouthed, and dropped to his knees, but instead of standing where he'd been and letting John suck him, Rodney sat on the bed and tilted his head up toward John. "Could you maybe, you know, disarm before we do this?"
John realized he hadn't planned taking off his BDUs at all, but he stood and unstrapped his gun, and then went to Rodney's desk to set it down, and then sat at the chair to take off his boots. He felt self-conscious with Rodney watching. He didn't know what to expect, but when he'd draped his BDUs on the chair and stood, naked except for his dog tags, Rodney shucked himself out of his trousers and shorts, and rocked from sitting on the bed to kneeling in front of John. He slid his hands up John's thighs and captured the end of John's cock in his mouth.
John's legs went momentarily weak. If Rodney's kiss was intense, his mouth on John's cock was a revelation. John looked down. Rodney's eyes were closed, and he sucked and licked as if he wanted nothing more in the world. It was all random, from a lick up the side to Rodney's tongue behind his balls, pulling one testicle gently into his mouth. None of it was designed to get him off, but the feelings and the sight of all that intelligence focused on him made his chest so tight it was hard to breathe. He had never imagined anything like this, and his head swam. He gasped out, "I have to sit down."
Rodney stood up, and turned them so that John's back was to the bed. John sat down slowly, missing the warmth of Rodney's mouth. Instead of sitting next to him, Rodney stood, looking down at John. John couldn't read his face, but it seemed the nerves were gone, but the wonder was still there. John couldn’t wait, and he leaned forward, using his hands to guide Rodney's mostly hard cock into his mouth. He heard a sharp intake of breath as he sucked down, taking the whole length of him in. He held it as long as he could, pulled back to breath, and sucked down again, feeling Rodney's cock harden further.
He'd done it to strangers. He'd loved it with strangers, but this was something completely different. The stretch of his mouth was like the opening of some wider door.
Rodney eventually pulled away and sat next to John on the bed. "Come on," he said. "We have to, just, sixty-nine, please." The words should have broken the mood, but they didn't, and John shifted with Rodney until they were comfortable. It was a long ride as the room darkened, a low buzz, and the vibration of Rodney's stifled cries when he came sent John over the edge after him, and when he drank Rodney down he tried to memorize the flavor. This wasn't the bitterness of war, but the musk of life.
Long moments later, John sat up. He leaned down to kiss Rodney, and the flavor of his breath made his gut clench and send a hot wire to his chest. He rested his forehead on Rodney's. "I can't stay."
Rodney chuckled. "I can't move." In the faint light from the window, he looked as relaxed as he had that night on Cananth, with an added satisfaction that was beautiful.
John rose, brought the lights up just enough to see, and dressed, finishing with his sidearm. He looked at Rodney, and by this point some of the tension and wariness had come back. "I'll be here, if you need me."
Words spilled out of John before he could stop them. "Every day. Whether we can do this or not." Rodney looked as if he were trying to decide between a sarcastic or serious answer, but John didn't want Rodney to say anything. "Kanor..." John said. "He's right. We need to dance." He held out his hand. "Partner."
Rodney looked at John's upturned palm, and his voice almost broke as he reached out and put his hand in John's. "Partner."
John paused at the door and swallowed as he looked back at Rodney. He put on one of his wry grins and said, "Leaving Las Vegas." Rodney closed his eyes, and nodded, and with that, John left. He didn't go back to his quarters, but instead took the transporter back up to the tower. The sun had long set. He stepped out to the balcony, looking at the stars and the water and the sectors of the city where there were lights. He drew breath, and tried to make sense of it all.
He felt light-headed, anchored only by the heavy weight in his chest. It wasn't every day you killed fourteen children and discovered you were in love. John didn't know who he was any more.
Continued in part 3.
The rule held until the sanctuary planet, and then, a few days after John’s picnic with Chaya, McKay called him in for chair diagnostics. John normally enjoyed these sessions, but this time McKay was all business.
"Okay. All done. You can go."
"Okay," John said, and he got up, stretched and walked to the door. Before opening it, he turned. "Rodney?"
McKay tensed before he looked up. "Major?"
"Everything okay?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" But John wasn't going to be the one to say it. He waited, watching expressions flit across McKay's face. John raised his eyebrows, a silent, Well?. "Okay," McKay said, drew a breath, and looked down. "The benchmark is, well, unreachable." John had no idea what he meant, and let his face show it. "Hot babe Ascended being versus, well..." McKay gestured vaguely toward himself.
"Don't sell yourself short." The words came out of John's mouth before he could stop them. The Vegas Rule only meant you couldn't talk about what happened in Vegas, not that you couldn't think about it, and John had thought about it a lot.
McKay's mouth opened slightly, eyes widening. John pulled his own face straight, nodded once, and left.
***
"Ah, Major?" Ford stuck his head in John's office door.
"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"We haven't gone back to PXC-145. The Cananth."
"I know. McKay's bugging me about getting back to that Haven and Help."
"I was wondering if we could put ourselves on a burger run.."
John looked at him. "Sanor, right? Was that her name?" John hoped he had her name right.
Ford drew himself up to a parade rest. "Sir."
"I'll take it under advisement. Dismissed."
John pinched the bridge of his nose. Chaya and her sanctuary had made him cautious about the Haven and Help of the Cananth, and up until the Wraith came he'd assigned another team for what was becoming known as the burger run. Getting involved with the locals, especially ones that glowed, worried him. This Sanor woman didn't seem to be doing any unusual glowing, but from what Teyla had said, she was probably trying to get pregnant.
The thought brought John up short. If all the Cananth had the gene, but they wanted to--what was it Teyla had said? Broaden the bloodlines? Wouldn't that mean the possibility of children born without it? They could test them at birth just by walking them into that cave. They wouldn't practice infanticide, would they? He put in a call to Elizabeth, and then to Dr. Corrigan in Anthropology.
***
The four of them waited at the gate for Dr. Corrigan, who came running up, pack in his arms and panting. "Sorry to be late. I promised Kaline I'd bring a few things when I came back."
"What kind of things?"
Dr. Corrigan was tall and dark haired, but his fair skin blushed slightly. "Hershey's Kisses."
McKay seemed stunned. "You have chocolate?"
Corrigan didn't back down, despite his now-flaming cheeks. "I brought a few bags with me, and they are not for general distribution."
"Agreed," John said, with a glance at McKay. "Just because you went through your own stash in a month..."
"I did not!"
"Anyway," Corrigan said, "I'm on an information barter system with Kaline. She won't answer my questions unless I tell her about us, too. She knows I'm avoiding anything about where we really come from, and there's not any reference for things like television or movies. Last month I got the cook to make something like barbecue sauce."
"So you're why we had barbecued rhunok ribs?" John asked.
"Man, those were good," Ford said.
"Amazing," McKay agreed.
Corrigan nodded. "And now, chocolate."
"We don't have any more of that to trade," John said.
"Not trade. Cultural exchange. It's been fascinating."
"Anthropologist fascinating?" John asked with a smile. He and Corrigan had only been on one mission together, early on when the Wraith were tracking them through Teyla's necklace, but it had left them with a catch phrase.
Corrigan snorted. "Maybe fascinating is not the word."
"Certainly not," grumbled McKay.
"Don't complain, McKay," John said. "I'm trying to get you back into that Haven and Help place." He looked up at Chuck. "Dial her up."
They stepped through the event horizon and started down the path to the left. Kanor came out of the trees about twenty feet away, his hair loose and curling to his shoulders. He tossed a rock underhand to John. John caught it. "Just keeping us on our toes?"
"It is good to see you again, Sheppard. I wondered when you would come again yourself."
"Busy herding. Guarding. You know."
"And more," Kanor added. Kanor stepped closer and raised his arm, and he and John bumped wrists. "You are major, after all." Kanor was smiling, teasing John with a familiarity that made John wonder if he missed something about the last visit. Then he remembered dancing with Kanor, and maybe that was enough. "Teyla, Ford, Doctor. And Matthew," he said to Corrigan. "Maline will be pleased to see you again."
John schooled his face. They were going to have to establish off-world frat regs. Then again, he'd brought Ford along, knowing he wanted to see Sanor.
They walked to the settlement, making small talk, but John wondered if Corrigan could use the relationship with this Maline to find out if the Cananth practiced infanticide.
"You are troubled, Sheppard," Kanor said suddenly.
John put a lazy grin on his face. "Well, Dr. Corrigan here has brought something for Kaline to try, but I'm worried you'll like it too much. We only have so much to trade."
"I do not think that is all."
"Wait 'till you taste chocolate," John said, but Kanor looked away.
When they reached the settlement and traded greetings with Kaline, Corrigan brought out a single Kiss. He laid it on a table.
"Is that metal?" Kaline asked.
"It is, yes. A thin metal called foil." He unwrapped the foil into a neat square, handing Kaline the paper tag. "Not to eat. Just smell. It will give you an idea." The paper passed from hand to hand, with murmurs following.
Corrigan took out a small kitchen knife and pared the chocolate into eight or nine pieces. "The flavor is strong, and it is sweet," he said. "It will melt on your tongue."
Kaline glanced at Teyla, who said, "I have tried it. It is delicious."
John glanced at McKay and Ford. McKay looked impatient, but Ford was amused, watching as Corrigan held out the first small slice on the tip of the knife. Kaline took it and placed it in her mouth, exclaiming as the chocolate melted over her tongue.
"And that's not even the best stuff," John heard McKay mutter.
"We have traded for candy before, but this is unlike anything... Your people invented this?"
"It comes from our planet, yes,” said John, not willing to get into the discussion of how many cultures were on his planet.
Kaline gestured for several people to come forward to try the slivers of chocolate. One or two did not appear to like it, but most looked to see if there was more. Kanor joked, “I wonder if that is what we taste like the Wraith?”
As if his words were a harbinger, the familiar whine of darts made everyone freeze. “Go!” Kaline yelled. “You know what to do!”
The Cananth did not panic, John saw, but very quickly moved to the buildings. Some ran inside, while others grabbed ropes he hadn't noticed and fixed their eyes on the trees above them, waiting tensely. John heard hurried whispers and more footsteps as the people who had gone into the buildings came out, carrying larger objects. As soon as they were clear, one of the people at the corners of the buildings called softly, and they all pulled together. The buildings went down, and the bark roofs broke in such a way that it almost looked like a natural pile. People moved in to scatter them further. They took the trestle tables apart and threw the pieces into the trees. On the ground you could tell there had been people here, but John guessed that an aerial view would not be so obvious. One group of people systematically packed the larger objects and began moving quickly up the hill along the path he remembered from their first visit. Someone went by leading a pair of rhunoks, which were bawling loudly. Corrigan looked around, beginning to panic. John wasn't sure how much combat experience he had, so he turned Corrigan toward the path and said, “You heard the nice lady. Go!”
McKay and Ford dropped back, and they set out running. Teyla glanced up, her eyes following the whine of the darts above the canopy of the trees. “I wish,” she started to say, sounding frustrated, but a woman’s scream, high and keening, broke into her words. It was a woman, and after the first scream she was trying not to yell but clearly frantic. “Shanor! Shanor!”
John looked behind him and saw a young child struggling to keep up, and a glance forward showed a woman running against the tide. No one stopped to help her. John nodded to Ford forward to continue, slipped to the side out of the stream of people, and ran back. The child, a tow-headed boy, was carrying a cooking pot far too heavy for him, struggling up the hill as it banged his shins. The Cananth, laden down with pots of their own, moved around him, so John darted in behind the boy and picked him up. He slid one arm around his middle and tucked the other under his knees so that the boy was nearly sitting, the pot in his lap, his straight hair tickling John's nose. He ran up the hill, looking for the woman.
They reached the Haven and Help before any sign of Wraith on the ground, and John could hear the collective sound of surprise when the lights brightened fully after he entered through the arch in the rock face. He could hear Kaline and Kanor explaining, and saw faces turned toward him. He scanned the crowd, trying to spot the mother he had seen. Brown hair. Straight hair. Blond. Curly. Coffee-and-cream skin. Olive skin. The Cananth were like an advertisement for genetic diversity, even though they all carried the Ancient gene. The child began to wriggle in his arms before he spotted her, and he set the boy down on his feet. His chest felt hot from the center, watching them come together.
“Shanor, what happened?” The woman asked, going down on one knee in front of the child. Her eyes were bright, as if she'd been crying. She had only one tattoo on the arm that reached for her son.
“You left the stew pot,” the boy said. “We can't lose metal, Mama. You said that!”
“I would rather lose the stewpot then you,” the woman said folding her arms around the boy, pot and all. John fought the urge to hug them both, the pounding in his chest slowing in relief. The woman looked up. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, ma'am.” He turned away, embarrassed. He glanced back once as he went to find Kanor, and saw a few of the people closest talking with the boy. He held up the pot, proud of what he'd done, and the faces seemed approving. No one looked at John, which seemed strange. Usually when this happened, people would say something to him, usually effusively. He never enjoyed the compliments, but to be ignored? It seemed odd. Maybe the Cananth weren't big on gratitude. He turned away and threaded his way back to Kaline.
Voices murmured behind him, and seemed to come from every passageway. He spotted Kanor chasing McKay, who was looking at his tablet and following his own course, barely dodging people.
"Sheppard." The voice was Kaline's. "Would you come with us?"
"Let me check on my people, first. You're sure the Wraith won't find us here?"
She nodded, seeming both to agree and to approve. "I will wait for you there." She indicated the passage McKay had taken.
John found Ford at the entrance, standing with the Cananth guards. A dart sounded above them, far away and moving fast. "You good?"
"I'm good."
"Seen Teyla? Corrigan?" John asked, and Ford nodded, inclining his head back up the wide hallway where Teyla stood talking to Kaline. "You all right?" he asked her.
Teyla nodded, then looked at Kaline. John followed her glance, and Kaline said, "Your McKay has gone to see the place of Help with Kanor. I would like to show it to you."
"I've got one more person to find." John walked through the Haven. There were several hundred Cananth here, at the very least, perhaps several thousand, if these tunnels went back much farther. It was more than came up the hill with them. He had no idea how so many had entered so quickly. He found Corrigan with Shanor and his mother.
"Everything okay?"
"We're fine," Corrigan said. "Mind if I spend the--" He turned to the woman. "The Wait, right?" She nodded. "Can I spend it here? I thought I'd talk with with Shanine and Shanor." He gave John an open look, but John thought this would be a perfect way for Corrigan to ask about what happened to the children without the Ancient gene. He nodded, and smiled at Shanine. She smiled back and reached for her son. He touched the boy on his blond head and went back to Teyla and Kaline, trying to fix the names in his mind before he gave up and started calling them the blond ones.
The corridor looked more like the interior of Atlantis than a cave, although some of the rock formed a wall. Hallways led off it, and John could hear the sound of people and animals echoing back. There seemed to be more people here than came up the hill. "Kaline, can I ask a question?"
"Of course, Sheppard."
"Are there more entrances than the one we saw?"
"Many, all over the planet."
"All over the planet?" That was what McKay had noted before.
"There is only one Haven and Help, but many paths to it."
"Can you use these paths to get to other places on the planet?"
"Of course."
"Transporters?" John said, and he looked at Teyla.
"Not what we call them, but yes. Senders."
"Senders," John repeated. "Everyone at once, or a few at a time?"
"Everyone in the chamber."
McKay's voice came down the hall. "But what I want to see is that way."
They turned a corner. McKay stood gesturing toward the corridor Kanor had blocked with one muscular arm. "McKay," John said, "Let's take the tour, okay?" John wanted to see more, too, but Kaline was not the type to be pushed. McKay glared at John, but nodded reluctantly.
They followed Kanor down a corridor. Its blues and greens reminded John of Atlantis, but as they walked further into the Haven, the patterns began to shift and twist, becoming more intricate, less angular. They came at last to a pair of closed doors. Kanor stepped aside. "Would you, Sheppard?"
John stepped up to the doors, looking for a familiar Atlantis-type sensor, but there wasn't one. The pattern on the door came to a central spiral, and John tried putting his hand on the swirl. The lines in the pattern lit up in a wave, bright and strangely calming. The door rose into the ceiling. John looked into the room.
"Our Help," said Kanor behind him.
For the size of the door, the room was not large. The dimensions were about the same as the Chair Room in Atlantis, but there were swirling patterns on the walls, Ancient in feeling but unlike most of Atlantis’ Ancient décor.An offshoot, maybe? Something religious rather than just functional?
McKay bustled past him. "All right. This is interesting."
"Interesting how?" John asked.
"The readings are a lot like the Chair." McKay made noises in the back of his throat, his thinking noises. "Strong neural interface-type readings, but--" McKay looked up. "Interface with what?"
There was nothing in the room, but as soon as McKay mentioned the Chair, John knew he was right. He turned to Kanor. "How does the Help, uh, help you?" John asked.
"Here we become."
"Clear as mud," McKay muttered.
"You do not know what you are," Kanor said. "Here you could become."
"Not this again," McKay said.
"We still don't know what that means, to become," John said.
Kaline stepped toward them. "Kanor says you guard and you herd. Your name comes from herding an animal called sheps, right?"
McKay snorted. John glanced at him, trying not to answer the slant of McKay's mouth with smirk of his own, "Close enough. I don't actually herd animals." He heard McKay mutter something about Marines.
"But herding is more than that," Kanor said. "We talked about it."
John nodded, and Kaline said, "How do you know who you are and what you do? How do you become that? The Help clarifies, removes the doubt and distraction. Could I speak for the Cananth with doubt in my voice?"
John couldn't answer. He shifted from foot to foot under Kaline's gaze, feeling as if she could see his own doubts. He couldn’t look at McKay. It struck him that McKay knew more about who he was than anyone else on Atlantis, and maybe anywhere.
A runner came to the door of the room. "Kaline, I am sent to tell you the Wraith have gone."
"Well, that's it then," said John, relieved that the questions would stop. "Business as usual now?"
Kaline looked at him. "Not here." She led him out of the Help, and John and Teyla turned McKay toward the door, against his protests. When they were back to the place where Kanor had held off McKay, John said, "Is there any chance McKay can go see what he wanted to see now?"
Kaline said, "Not... yet. Another time. Soon maybe." She looked at John, and he couldn't read her expression.
They followed the Cananth out of the Haven and Help. Ford was waiting outside the entrance, Dr. Corrigan with him. Corrigan looked like he was there only because Ford insisted, looking down the hill and fidgeting. When he saw Sheppard, he started to step toward him, then checked himself when he realized Kaline was there, too.
"Everything all right?" John asked. Ford nodded, and Corrigan did too, a half second later. John smiled at Kaline, and said, "We'll be right behind you." Kaline glanced past him, and John kept himself from turning around to see what she was looking at back at the entrance. She nodded, and turned to walk back. Very quickly she was surrounded by Cananth.
Corrigan started to speak, but John turned to Teyla. "Have you seen anything like that place before?" She shook her head. "Neural interface, McKay. What's it do?"
"How could I know? The readings were similar. That other place I wanted to check out, they wouldn't let me get to, but I think that's where the dampening field, or whatever it is, is generated."
"They have room-sized transporters," John said. "There were people in there from all over the planet." He watched McKay's face go slightly slack, the way it did when he was calculating in his head. "Yeah," John said. "That's a lot of power." He turned to Corrigan. "You get an answer about what happens to kids without the gene?"
"She said, 'They are left for others.' Near as I can tell, that means they dial the gate, find a nice doorstep, and leave the child on it."
"What is he talking about, John?" Teyla asked.
"Simple genetics. If the Cananth all have the gene, but they encourage outside blood, eventually there will be a child who doesn't have the gene. Maybe a lot of them. So why do the Cananth all have the gene?"
Teyla's eyes went wide. "They are the source of the foundlings?"
"What? You know about this?"
"Yes. We have a few among the Athosians. They are children found near the Ancestor's rings. They are always healthy and well-fed, but we have learned not to look for their family, for their people. No one ever claims them. Certainly not the Cananth." There was an edge to her voice, and John shared her feelings. They made sure the children found homes, but this was eugenics, and he didn't like the sound of it. "This would not be the day to speak of it, but I will have to ask Kaline."
They walked back to the settlement area, and found the Cananth rebuilding the structures. They were going up quickly, and John assumed they had the system down pat. He saw two people over to the side, their heads together and near crying. He recognized one as Sanor, the girl Ford was seeing. He touched Ford on the shoulder to get his attention, and nodded over. "You want to find out what happened?" Ford nodded, and walked toward them. John watched for a moment to see if he'd be welcome, and the woman stretched out her hand to Ford, not letting go of the other man man near her. They looked enough alike to be siblings, and John didn't see any jealousy. He turned and found Kaline. "Need any help?"
"Sure. You go with Kanor. Teyla, please with me. Shanor!" The boy came running. "Teach Corrigan to calm rhunoks."
"I just want a corner where I can analyze these readings," McKay said. "Somewhere the sun actually comes through." He gestured to his solar panels.
They found a spot for McKay at a break in the trees, and then Kanor showed John how their buildings went together, and how easily they came apart. It was ingenious, and John had no doubt that the Cananth, if left alone by the Wraith, could have built sturdy and strong. The collapsible frames were a matter of practicality, easier to hide. Kanor handed John a rope, and they pulled in opposite directions, and John realized they were raising the small room John and McKay had been given that first night. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want the memory of McKay, bare-chested and relaxed. He looked at Kanor, who was flushed from exertion. That didn't help, either, so he asked, "How often do you have to do this?"
"I'm not sure how you measure time," Kanor said, "but not more than every thirty or forty days. We do not lose many to the culling, but when they come on foot, they find the few who stay behind with the rhunoks."
"Like today?" John asked, gesturing over to where he'd last seen Ford and the woman. "She lose someone?"
"A brother," Kanor nodded. "She will need to dance tonight, and she will need comforting. You will stay, won't you?" John hesitated, and Kanor said, "We can't simply trade now. After the Wraith come, we must dance."
John tried his lazy grin. "No offense, but, you seem to dance for everything."
Kanor stepped closer, and ran the back of his hand down John's forearm. "We dance to remember we are alive." The gesture was too intimate, and John stepped back. Kanor merely looked at him. "No offense, but you seem to need to dance. Stay. Be alive with us. If not with me, with McKay."
John held himself, kept himself from glancing toward McKay. "I'm fine." Kanor said nothing, but John heard how clipped he sounded in his own ears. He tried to soften it. "We appreciate the hospitality, but we're expected back. Perhaps next time."
Kanor seemed to accept the excuse, and led John away from the settled area, down no path John could discern, until they found the herd of rhunoks. Corrigan stood when he saw John, but he was grinning. "My dad was a large animal vet. I never thought I'd say this, but I missed being around big, smelly, hairy things."
John raised an eyebrow, but Corrigan looked too earnest to know what else the words might mean. One look at the rhunoks and John thought he might have a point there. "Sorry to break it up, but we need to get back."
Kanor came up holding a lead. At the other end was a rhunok, brown and trusting, looking like a small buffalo. "We cannot dress it for you, but in thanks for your labor--" He held out the lead to John, who took it.
"Thank you," he said, and then looked at Corrigan. "I'll let the experienced one handle this." Corrigan smiled and took the lead. They gathered Ford, Teyla and McKay, who had shifted following the sun until the Cananth had to dodge him to finish rebuilding the settlement. Kaline called a farewell, but continued working. Kanor walked with them back to the gate. John wished he hadn't, but talking with the team could wait until they were back in Atlantis.
Kanor stopped him, pulling him away from the others for a moment, and held up his arm. John bumped wrists with him. "You are troubled, Sheppard. Perhaps next time we can go to the Haven and Help, and you can see how it helps us."
"I--" Sheppard began. "Maybe."
"At the very least, you need to dance." Kanor smiled at him.
Something about the smile would not have been out of place in a bar with loud, throbbing music--the smile of someone cruising him from across the room, and John had to blink the image away, the sense memory. "Thanks for dinner," he said, nodding at the rhunok.
Kanor nodded, and McKay dialed the gate.
***
And then the Wraith came and laid siege. And Ford was gone. And Colonel Dillon Everett came and took command. And John, meaning it, said, "So long, Rodney." And John didn't die.
***
PX4-998. The Wraith had culled the planet recently, and they didn’t expect to find any people. It was a good place to bring a new guy to see how he behaved in the field before a permanent assignment. John led his team through the gate, heading for the inevitable village. Teyla and McKay were with him, and a Marine corporal named Shane, who was half a head shorter than Ford and a good six inches broader. Shane was okay, new, but he wasn't Ford, and he wasn't easy with people. With two years at the SGC, John suspected he’d be good in a firefight, but the Mountain didn't prepare anyone for Pegasus. He didn't like calling these trips test drives, but that was really what they were.
As they walked through the cold, charred wood of what had been the village, John looked for any sign of recent life. McKay had instruments out, but he didn't seem to see any power or life signs. "Okay, let's split up," John said. "Shane and Teyla, me and McKay. We're looking for any indication that there are still people here.
Shane hesitated, glancing at Teyla. "Sir? Priorities?"
John walked over to him, and led him a few steps away. "What are you asking, corporal?"
"Is she a priority? In case of, you know..."
"Attack?" John asked. Shane nodded, and John missed Ford. "Do we need to go back to the 'gate?"
"Sir?"
"I need team members who are part of a team, corporal, even if it's a temporary assignment. If you don't trust her to pull her own weight and to get your back, then..." John let the sentence hang unfinished for a moment. "And we don't leave people behind."
"Sir," Shane said. John couldn't tell what he meant, and he wondered again they shouldn't just go back. That was his gut-level reaction. He wasn't sure what that would do to Shane's morale, or what message it would send to the rest of the Marines. Ford had been a Marine John could work with, but maybe that was the difference between officer and non-com. Or maybe it was just Shane, who seemed to be staring off into the middle distance. John tamped down a flash of irritation. Maybe he should have paired Shane with McKay, but the man needed to learn to work with what he kept calling the natives. Two years at SGC, and he didn't know better?
"Go on. Meet back here in fifteen. Follow her lead." As he said it, John wondered what Col. Everett would do. He'd been wondering that a lot lately. Shane turned and set off with Teyla, and John moved to McKay, who was still looking at his readings. "Anything interesting?"
"What?" McKay looked up. "Oh, not really. No energy. Life signs, I think."
"You think?"
"I think. Could be large animals."
John pulled out his own life signs detector, and looked at the reading. He could see the four of them, Shane and Teyla moving in an arc away from where he and McKay stood. There were other signs in the area, but they weren't clearly human. They seemed small. "Shall we check those out?"
"Yes, let's walk toward the potential predator," McKay said.
"Could be something else. Maybe the people here were just short." McKay snorted, but began to lead them toward the nearest group. John looked at his own detector. The dots fled before them, scattering. "Huh. Kids, maybe?"
McKay groaned. "Great. Orphans. You're going to want to bring them all back to the city."
"Sure, Dr. McKay," John said. "I'll let you help them with their science fair projects." It wasn't even a good joke, as sarcasm went. John felt twitchy. "Let's see if we can find them."
McKay made a non-committal noise, but he led the way. The small dots continued to scatter before them. John stopped. "Let's head back. They're scared and they won't come near us. Maybe Teyla and Shane had better luck."
When they reached the ruin, there was no sign of them. John keyed his radio. "Teyla? Corporal Shane? We're back at the site. Come in?"
"We're here, sir," Shane's voice answered. "Nothing to report."
"That is not quite true," Teyla said. "I have seen signs that there are children still here. They are hiding themselves well."
"Good for them," McKay muttered, but John said, "We thought as much from our life signs indicator, but they're staying away from us. We won't find them. Not now. They're still scared."
"Perhaps another group," Teyla said. "One prepared for children. The Wraith may have left them to re-grow the herd." Even over the radio, John could hear the bitterness in her voice.
"All right. Meet us back at the 'gate." John turned to McKay. "Let's go. Nothing to see here."
"No," McKay said, but he was still watching his instruments. "Colonel, I think we have something. They're converging on Teyla and whoever the jarhead is."
"Cpl. Shane," John corrected automatically. "What's going on?"
"I'm not sure, but Teyla has company. Just kids, so it's probably okay."
John knew that kids, especially scared ones, could be very dangerous indeed. He jogged toward the other side of the village, McKay keeping pace. Shane's voice came through the radio. "We have a situation."
When John arrived, Teyla was gone, and Shane stood waiting, blood running in a thick line down one side of his face and on his neck. "Where is she?!"
"Sir, they--" Shane didn't finish, and when John got close, he could see his brown eyes were unfocused. He was on his feet only through Marine toughness. Loose rocks, some dark with blood, lay scattered on the ground around him. "They were kids, sir. They just wanted a mom. I couldn't shoot."
"It's okay," John said, although it was anything but. He needed Shane to keep talking.
"She knew something was wrong. I missed it. I could have stopped them, but I thought they were just kids looking for a mom."
"Which way, corporal?" John didn't hold back his anger but he hid his fear. If these were kids who survived the Wraith, there was no telling what they would do. Shane pointed. "McKay, get him to the 'gate, and tell whoever's on deck to gear up and get here."
"What if--?" McKay started, and John cut him off. He needed to be moving, not listening to McKay.
"I don't care if they're kids. Shoot if you have to. Don't let them in range."
"They've got good arms sir," Shane said with a vague laugh. "Be good ball players."
"Take him before he passes out and you have to carry him." John reached over to McKay's holster, flicked the safety off, and put it back. He looked into McKay's eyes, nodded once, and turned.
John wasn't much of a tracker, but the path on this side of the village wasn't hard to find. He took it at run, fast enough to cover ground and still look for the signs. Footprints in the dirt seemed fresh, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to tell if they went off the path. This wasn't right. He stopped himself and listened, slowing his breathing, willing his heart to slow down enough that the blood would stop rushing in his ears.
Voices. Children's voices. Teyla's lower note came through the babble, but the tone was off. She was scared and trying to talk her way out of it, keeping her voice calm. John gave himself a few more seconds to be sure of the direction, and then he ran. The sounds led him toward a break in the trees, and he slowed again to listen. He could hear Teyla distinctly.
"No, this will not help you. We can take you with us and find you homes. We would be happy to feed you, help you. Don't do thi--" The word ended in a shout, and John ran again, fear skittering like hot wires under his skin.
He broke into a small meadow and skidded to a halt. A silent pile of children, writhed in the middle of the clearing. John couldn't see Teyla, but then he heard a acream from the center of the pile. "Get off!" he yelled, running forward and picking up a smaller child by the waist. It was a boy, maybe eight, and he twisted and fought. John felt something stab into his forearm, and he let the boy drop. Blood welled up on his forearm through a slice in his uniform jacket. The boy grabbed John and clamped his mouth over the wound, and John could feel the boy's tongue through the hole in the fabric, hear the sucking sounds he was making.
John froze for a second. These were children, left after the Wraith culled their parents and destroyed their village, and they were trying to suck the blood out of them. He heard Teyla moan again, and went cold.
He flung the boy off his arm, and kicked him when he attacked again. He fired his P90 into the air, yelling, "Get off her, now!" but it felt like he was doing it for form's sake. Some of the children looked up at him and rose, reaching for rocks. He couldn’t afford to underestimate them, couldn't afford to be hit in the head like Shane. They were the enemy. He shot at their feet, bullets kicking up dirt, but they didn’t stop. John dodged the first rock, took aim at a girl who looked to be about ten, dirty and thin, with a red smear around her mouth and a rock aimed and ready.
He killed her with a single shot to the head. Time slowed as her head snapped back with the impact, and she fell. He could see Teyla, staked to the ground through her uniform jacket and her BDUs, her clothes torn and stained with red blotches. The children had rocks and small knives, and they turned away from Teyla and came for him.
He backed into the tree line, shooting at a sandy-haired boy with a rock, aiming for the leg in a hope that screams of pain would slow down the others, make them change their mind. He fell with a howl, but they stepped over him. There was only one thing he could do. He fired.
When he was sure he was safe, at least from that group, he ran to Teyla. "You okay?"
"I am alive," she said. "Did you...?" Her voice broke.
John nodded as he pulled out the rough stakes that pinned her. "They were killing you, and they were going to kill me." He didn't glance at the bodies, didn't listen to the sounds that told him that some were still alive. He held out his hand and Teyla took it with both of hers, wincing as he pulled her to her feet. "Can you walk?"
"I think…" she started, but she looked past him and swayed, and John leaned down to take her over his shoulders. He was half way to the 'gate when Sgt. Bates and his team found them. There were medics behind them, and John let them take Teyla on a stretcher.
"Colonel, sir?" Bates said, "Do we need to look around?"
John shook his head. No one needed to see what he had done, and he didn't want to be forced to talk about it. "Let's get her home."
***
Teyla looked pale. There were bandages all down her arms, and an IV line taped to her hand. John swallowed, remembering the children around her, feeding on her. Carson came and stood beside him at the foot of the bed. "She'll be fine, Colonel. Most of that won't even scar. She's lost blood, but that's really only the worst of it."
"Shane?" John asked, not taking his eyes off Teyla.
"Concussion and a broken finger. Some bruises. He'll need a few days off."
"He can have a week," John said, tamping down a surge of anger. It was irrational, John knew, but he felt like Shane had dropped the ball by not understanding the threat. They might have been able to get away before anyone was hurt.
Before John had to kill fourteen children armed with rocks and knives.
"What about you?" Carson said, as if he could read John's thoughts.
"Bruise," John said. The rock that had hit him on the arm had left a purple welt.
"I'm not talking about that. You might want to talk with Dr. Heightmeyer."
"I'm fine." John clamped his jaw around the word.
"Colonel, what you just did, no one should have to do. To kill children--"
John kept his voice even. "I'm fine." He couldn't have left Teyla. Maybe if he'd been alone…. He glanced down at Teyla's bandages. "You weren't there. They were eating her."
Carson nodded. "Consider it, though, won't you?"
John agreed, then turned to go. "I need to get cleaned up."
"What's that?" Carson pointed at the tear in John's jacket. John rolled up his sleeve. "That's more than a bruise. What made this?"
"They had knives. Same kind as…" He gestured toward Teyla.
"Let's take care of this, then." Carson led John to a chair, and put his arm on the table next to it. He cleaned the cut, which was deeper than John had thought, and put in two stitches. As he put on the bandage, he brought up Heightmeyer again.
"I'm fine," John said, pulling his arm out of Carson's grip and rolling his sleeve back down.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Carson said, looking levelly at John. "Staff meeting. I'm going to ask Dr. Weir if I can take a medical team back to that planet."
John would advise against it, but he didn't say anything to Carson. He took a last glance at Teyla, and left the infirmary. Back in his quarters, he stripped down to his shorts and turned on the shower, wanting nothing more than to wash off the day. Then it hit him: he should have seen Shane. He couldn’t believe he hadn't. He turned off the water, and pulled his clothes back on, jogging through the corridors to the infirmary.
Carson looked up. "Everything all right, Colonel?"
"Is Cpl. Shane still here?" John almost hoped Shane had been released to his quarters.
"Aye. I'm keeping him over night. You'll find him back that way."
John nodded, and walked back to a bed where Shane lay sleeping. Part of his head had been shaved, and there were dark stitches surrounded by bruises and swelling. There was another goose egg on the other side of his head, and welts and bruises on his arms. The kids and their rocks had been pretty effective. Shane opened his eyes. "Sir." He said. Both eyes focused on John, and then Shane looked away. "I'm sorry, sir."
"Sorry for what?" John asked. "What happened?"
"The kids came up, and I just didn't think they'd be a problem. They came up to Teyla and they said they needed a queen and a mother, and I thought that, you know, after the Wraith had culled all their parents and trashed the town... I mean, back home I'd've worried they had bombs or something, but they looked so happy to see Ms. Emmagen."
The word queen struck John, but he wasn't sure what he thought about it. "Then what happened?"
"They started dragging her with them, and she tried to get them to let go, but they wouldn't. I tried to help, you know, pulled one off her. Then they went nuts and started throwing rocks. I got knocked out. I'd just managed to get up when you found me."
That made John feel a bit better. Shane hadn't been able to go after Teyla. "Why didn't you radio us?"
"It all happened pretty fast, sir. I'm sorry, sir. They were just kids. I couldn't see shooting at them." Shane closed his eyes. "But you found her, sir, and you got her home."
"Yeah." John didn't know what to say. He was fairly sure no one had told Shane what happened, but he let it lie, wanting mostly to leave and get back to his shower. He clapped Shane gently on the shoulder. “Get better, Corporal,” he added, and when Shane thanked him, looking as if he expected more, John fled.
The shower was not enough, but it had to be, and when he was dressed he went down to the mess hall, still feeling on edge. Here he had no one to blow off the steam with. Back on Earth, there’d always been places to find quick relief with someone who'd been there, who'd understand, and if Sheppard wanted to use his mouth instead of his hand, no one complained. It was good, and reminded him he was still alive, and he'd swallowed down the bitterness of war and made it part of him. It was hard to think about sex here, surrounded by people he couldn’t touch, but quick sex was what he had always had before Pegasus.
He didn't remember getting his tray or sitting down, but then McKay was sitting across from him. "I heard it went Lord of the Flies."
John blinked. "Something like that. Don't really want to talk about it."
"What happened?" McKay said around a mouthful.
"Didn't I just say that I didn't want to talk about it? It was--" John realized that the combination of his earlier train of thought and McKay sitting right across from him were having an effect. He probably shouldn't stand up any time soon. Inappropriate maybe wasn't a strong enough word for just how wrong it was to get hard right then, but then McKay, Rodney, sweat-drenched and begging, had been the star of some of John's weirder fantasies lately.
"Colonel?"
Maybe talking about PX4-998 would take his mind out of the place he really didn't want it to be. "The kids. They cut Teyla all over and sucked on the blood. One of them cut me, and latched on to it." John indicated the bandage.
"Human saliva? I hope you had Carson clean it."
"Of course," John said, waving away Rodney's concern. "They had Teyla staked to the ground, and they were on her in this pile. A puppy pile," John said, snorting at the grim humor.
"Wait," Rodney said, holding up his fork. "On our way to the 'gate, Shane kept saying that the kids were looking for a mother or a queen. Queens, Sheppard. Who has queens in this galaxy?"
John instantly knew what Rodney meant. "They were Wraith worshippers. That's why the Wraith left the kids, so that they could breed more food."
"And maybe the Wraith Queens did something weird, or the kids put things together that didn't make sense." Rodney nodded. "So what happened?"
"They came after me, and they had Teyla, and there was only one thing I could do." John could hear his voice breaking, and it echoed somewhere inside him. He pushed his tray to the side, unable to eat. He tried to control his face, but there was no hiding this from Rodney.
Rodney stared at him, his laden fork paused in the air. John looked away. "That means what I think it means, doesn't it?" His voice was soft, and there was a note in it John had never heard. He glanced at Rodney, and his brows were drawn, his mouth tight. It made him look as if he were working on a problem that hurt.
After a long moment, Rodney said very quietly, "The Cananth have that whole dancing thing they do. I heard what Kanor said, about how it reminded them of living, or something. You want to go there?"
"What for?"
Rodney mumbled "Get you laid if nothing else." When John looked at him he said, "I've seen how Kanor looks at you."
"Arranging my social life, McKay?" John went for sarcasm, but his voice broke again.
Rodney blushed, which surprised John. "Just trying to help."
"I don't want to go to see the Cananth." John swallowed as if he were trying to stop the next words. "I want to go to Vegas."
Rodney froze, then his eyes started moving while the rest of his body was still. "You mean that? Not just a heat of the moment that you'll regret?"
There were no take backs. Rodney was giving him an out, and he knew he should take it for all the problems this was going to cause, but this was more than after-mission jitters. This was Rodney, and it was going to mean something if it happened. He heard himself say it again: "Vegas."
Rodney dropped his glance to his tray, put down the fork he was holding, and then said, "All right. My quarters. They're bigger. Give me fifteen, then I'll meet you there."
A quarter of an hour. An eternity. Rodney took his tray and left. John followed, taking a different route out of the mess hall, grabbing the nearest transporter and taking it to a tower on the other side of the city. He found a balcony and looked out over Atlantis. She was his to guard, and the people, in one sense, his to herd. Kanor talked as if John was as sure of himself in those roles as Kanor was with the Cananth and their rhunoks.
John stepped to the edge of the balcony and took in the shape of the city, and it was as if she filled a hole in him. He belonged here, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t get past the idea that he didn’t belong in command. He remembered the siege a few months ago. Everett had landed and taken charge, and in all of the danger and insanity, for all that they had butted heads, John had relaxed. An actual warrior was in command, and he listened, adapted, and made the right decisions. The weight wasn't John's to carry any more. If it had been, he couldn't have made the Hail Mary pass, taken that jumper out with the bomb. Commanders stay behind.
John wasn't one for soul searching, but he had to do it. Why didn't he want the job he'd been doing? Because he'd been faking it. Faking who he was came from long habit. Staying behind meant giving up the adrenaline rush that had always fueled his ability to keep other things hidden. Here in Atlantis he didn’t have any other outlet: the one place where he'd always been able to completely let it go--more than the furtive post-mission getting off--was the clubs with their back rooms. They were very far away, now. He had a sense memory of a cock down his throat, and that near choking feeling, the smell of a stranger's balls sweaty from dancing, the sound of the music blotting out everything, high enough, drunk enough, and nothing in the world that mattered.
Everything here mattered. A low sun glinted off the windows of Atlantis, and this city that almost fit, that almost felt like home--it was worth it. Even after days like today, it was worth it.
John's radio beeped. "Colonel?" It was Rodney.
"Go ahead." John glanced at his watch. Thirty minutes had gone by. "Sorry. On my way. Sheppard out."
John walked back to the transporter, not hurrying, but not dragging his feet. He set the destination for the section where Rodney lived and walked to the door. This was not going to be like anything he'd ever done. It was more than jitters and blowing off steam, and he had no idea why he was doing it. Rodney opened to his knock, and he'd changed clothes. He wore a blue shirt and civilian slacks that John didn't even know he owned. He looked good, and he looked nervous.
John looked down at his BDUs and the knife on his belt. He still had his sidearm strapped to his leg. "I guess I could have changed." It sounded stupid as he said it, but he hadn't thought about what this meant to Rodney. He stepped into the room, and when the door closed, the only light was the sunset through Rodney's window. Music played through the tinny speakers of Rodney's laptop, some jazz piece that had rhythm and melody. "Sorry I was late. I was thinking."
Rodney stepped back. "Did you come to tell me you changed your mind? Or is this not Vegas enough, because it's not really easy to get neon lights in this galaxy. I mean, I could, I could--" Rodney swallowed and looked away. "I have no idea."
"No, this is fine," John said, and it wasn't and it was. "What do you want to do?"
"I thought that was kind of obvious," Rodney said, blushing. John smiled. It was easy to let Rodney be nervous enough for both of them. "I mean, I thought through a number of scenarios, from starting with a movie and a beer, or we could dance, or just, you know, go for it."
Any preamble, and John was afraid he'd change his mind. "Let's go for it."
And Rodney did the thing John least expected, but should have seen coming, given the lighting and music. Rodney stepped up, took John's face in his hands, and kissed him.
John had rarely kissed a man, and every one of those had been aggressive preludes to establish who was hotter and hornier and more in control, with pounding music in the background. Rodney's kiss wasn't like that, and it wasn't like a woman's. John tensed at first, and when Rodney stepped back in response, he moved forward, putting his hands on Rodney's flanks, feeling the soft texture of his shirt and leaning in to close the distance between their lips. They barely touched for a long moment, breathing each other's breath, and John felt Rodney shiver under his hands. John felt like he was balanced on a precipice, the moment more intense, more overwhelming than any moment in any club, with the rush of blood in his ears and the staccato of Rodney's breath providing the rhythm. He let himself fall, pressing forward and opening his lips against Rodney's, feeling Rodney's mouth tense and then soften, and the tentative touch of their tongues.
Rodney made a noise in the back of his throat, but John could feel it vibrate under his hands, and he slid them from Rodney's waist, one circling around the back to draw him closer, the other running down the flank and to Rodney's thigh. John deepened the kiss for a long moment, and then pulled back, breathless. He was shaking, and he didn't know what he was feeling, and then he looked in Rodney's eyes. There was wonder and fear, and John knew Rodney well enough by this point to know that he was afraid that John was faking it, that the joke would be on Rodney when John turned to go. That was the last thing John wanted right now. "Come on," he said. It was only a few steps to Rodney's bed, and when they were standing next to it, John reached out to unbutton the soft, blue shirt. He wanted to see Rodney's chest and arms again, and when he had them bare, he ran his hands over them, learning the contours of Rodney's surprising muscles.
"Can I?" Rodney asked, reaching for John's T-shirt where it tucked into his BDUs. John untucked it, and pulled it over his head, tossing it on to a chair. Rodney placed his hand in the middle of John's chest, over his dog tags, fingers in the hair. John reached for Rodney's head and pulled him in for another kiss, this time rougher and more demanding. When he pulled back for breath, their mouths barely apart, Rodney said, "What do you want? What do you need?"
John didn't know the answer. He wanted what he always wanted, a cock down his throat, but he didn't want to rush this. This was the opposite of mindless club sex. This took every ounce of his attention, and he was here, now, doing nothing but this. "It's all good," he said, the words meaning more than the dismissing slang. "Really, I..." and he couldn't finish with words. He kissed Rodney close-mouthed, and dropped to his knees, but instead of standing where he'd been and letting John suck him, Rodney sat on the bed and tilted his head up toward John. "Could you maybe, you know, disarm before we do this?"
John realized he hadn't planned taking off his BDUs at all, but he stood and unstrapped his gun, and then went to Rodney's desk to set it down, and then sat at the chair to take off his boots. He felt self-conscious with Rodney watching. He didn't know what to expect, but when he'd draped his BDUs on the chair and stood, naked except for his dog tags, Rodney shucked himself out of his trousers and shorts, and rocked from sitting on the bed to kneeling in front of John. He slid his hands up John's thighs and captured the end of John's cock in his mouth.
John's legs went momentarily weak. If Rodney's kiss was intense, his mouth on John's cock was a revelation. John looked down. Rodney's eyes were closed, and he sucked and licked as if he wanted nothing more in the world. It was all random, from a lick up the side to Rodney's tongue behind his balls, pulling one testicle gently into his mouth. None of it was designed to get him off, but the feelings and the sight of all that intelligence focused on him made his chest so tight it was hard to breathe. He had never imagined anything like this, and his head swam. He gasped out, "I have to sit down."
Rodney stood up, and turned them so that John's back was to the bed. John sat down slowly, missing the warmth of Rodney's mouth. Instead of sitting next to him, Rodney stood, looking down at John. John couldn't read his face, but it seemed the nerves were gone, but the wonder was still there. John couldn’t wait, and he leaned forward, using his hands to guide Rodney's mostly hard cock into his mouth. He heard a sharp intake of breath as he sucked down, taking the whole length of him in. He held it as long as he could, pulled back to breath, and sucked down again, feeling Rodney's cock harden further.
He'd done it to strangers. He'd loved it with strangers, but this was something completely different. The stretch of his mouth was like the opening of some wider door.
Rodney eventually pulled away and sat next to John on the bed. "Come on," he said. "We have to, just, sixty-nine, please." The words should have broken the mood, but they didn't, and John shifted with Rodney until they were comfortable. It was a long ride as the room darkened, a low buzz, and the vibration of Rodney's stifled cries when he came sent John over the edge after him, and when he drank Rodney down he tried to memorize the flavor. This wasn't the bitterness of war, but the musk of life.
Long moments later, John sat up. He leaned down to kiss Rodney, and the flavor of his breath made his gut clench and send a hot wire to his chest. He rested his forehead on Rodney's. "I can't stay."
Rodney chuckled. "I can't move." In the faint light from the window, he looked as relaxed as he had that night on Cananth, with an added satisfaction that was beautiful.
John rose, brought the lights up just enough to see, and dressed, finishing with his sidearm. He looked at Rodney, and by this point some of the tension and wariness had come back. "I'll be here, if you need me."
Words spilled out of John before he could stop them. "Every day. Whether we can do this or not." Rodney looked as if he were trying to decide between a sarcastic or serious answer, but John didn't want Rodney to say anything. "Kanor..." John said. "He's right. We need to dance." He held out his hand. "Partner."
Rodney looked at John's upturned palm, and his voice almost broke as he reached out and put his hand in John's. "Partner."
John paused at the door and swallowed as he looked back at Rodney. He put on one of his wry grins and said, "Leaving Las Vegas." Rodney closed his eyes, and nodded, and with that, John left. He didn't go back to his quarters, but instead took the transporter back up to the tower. The sun had long set. He stepped out to the balcony, looking at the stars and the water and the sectors of the city where there were lights. He drew breath, and tried to make sense of it all.
He felt light-headed, anchored only by the heavy weight in his chest. It wasn't every day you killed fourteen children and discovered you were in love. John didn't know who he was any more.
Continued in part 3.