New story: Night Spirits
Since the authors have been revealed today, I guess I can go ahead and post this now:
My Secret Santa story was:
Night Spirits
Pairing: none / team, gen
Characters: Zelenka, team, Lorne, a dash of Weir
Rating: PG
Recipient: murron (you can all imagine the squee I gave when I realised I was writing for my best friend? And then the sound of dismay for having to hide the writing from her?)
Spoilers: through Critical Mass, with special nods to Epiphany and The Hive
Summary: "The area I come from, we have an ancient tale about nights like this"
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
Beta-read: By the ever lovely auburnnothenna (including hand-holding and constant encouragement) and quiller77. Thank you.
Notes: Murron wanted: snow, warm clothing, hot beverages, off-world settings, food, team interaction, Sheppard's hands, Ancient or any other mythology, Zelenka-appearances, geeks in general, various states of undress, silent comfort, threatening lemons. Some were a stretch, but I think I've got most things shoehorned in.
Night Spirits
Radek Zelenka hated off world missions. He wasn't an adventurous man, and while he liked seeing new things and the joy of discovery, he preferred them to be safe. This mission, this supposedly simple mission that had required his assistance, had turned out to be anything but. Radek should have known. No good came of days when he stepped out of bed with his left foot first. And this morning, the day before Christmas, he had even fallen out of bed.
Really, he told himself afterward, he should have known.
Sheppard had said that when they had left the Dart after escaping from the fight between the Hive ships, it had been warm and balmy on the planet.
They had, however, stepped through the Stargate to find themselves in snowdrifts deep enough to hide even Ronon Dex. The trek up to the cave where the Colonel had been hiding the Dart had been miserable and cold, despite the fur-coats the people who had been guarding the Dart for the Colonel had given them. Even Sheppard had admitted there and then, much to Rodney's crowing delight, that with the snow changing the area so completely, he'd never have been able to find the Dart on his own.
Rodney, still giddy from his small victory over Sheppard, had been the first to start the unholy chain of events. Barely twenty steps into the place where the Colonel had been hiding the Dart, he had broken through the ice covering a stream invisible under the snow. Major Lorne had only barely stopped Radek from following suit. Ronon had had a hard time fishing Rodney from the icy stream; his weight proving to be a serious issue on the already cracked ice. In the end, it had been his swiftness that had gotten Rodney out. The stream in itself hadn't been deep, but Rodney had been completely soaked, enough to make hypothermia a very real threat. The natives who were guiding them had for once not been hostile, and had taken Rodney into a hastily set-up tent, had given him dry clothes and something hot to drink, while Sheppard, Teyla, Lorne, Ronon and Radek watched him shiver too much to speak.
It was already too late when Rodney realised what was wrong with that drink. He had been asking about it, asking if it contained citrus, but according to Carson's later exam, there was no way Rodney, or anyone for that matter, could have known. The tea Rodney had been given didn't even smell like citrus nor had the sweetener stirred in it a name that would have suggested a relation. But, apparently, the allergy-triggering protein was the same.
They had almost lost Rodney then, and Radek never, ever wanted to see someone fighting for breath like that again, nor the sheer terror in Rodney's eyes. Sheppard and Ronon carried Rodney back to the Stargate, over a distance that had seem minor before, but from the radio reports, had become a test of their endurance.
Radek had stayed behind, determined to finish Rodney's work alone, to somehow make up both for lost time and to ease his conscience. Lorne, Harris and Teyla had stayed with him.
He had only vague memories of returning to Atlantis, only blurred pictures and feelings of cold and white and roaring, tearing at his body and mind, the snow lashing into his face no longer melting. He later found out that there had been a blizzard on the planet and that the remainder of the team had been caught in an avalanche that had swept away their local guides.
If it hadn't been for Teyla's quick reflexes and even quicker thinking, neither he nor Major Lorne he would have survived. She hadn't managed to get to Harris in time, however.
Now the entire team was in the infirmary, Radek with a mild concussion and hypothermia, Teyla with a broken arm, Lorne with a dislocated shoulder and a broken collarbone from when he had tried to hold on to him and Teyla during the avalanche. Ronon's hands were bandaged for the cuts he had suffered when pulling Rodney out of the jagged ice and the Colonel, who'd given his jacket to the half-frozen Rodney on the way back was severely hypothermic as well. All of them had at least slight cases of frostbite.
They were all subdued. There was none of the normal chattering and complaints that followed the few off world missions Radek had been on before. But then, Radek had never been on a mission where they had lost one of their own. He felt dizzy and sick.
Rodney was still pale and on an oxygen mask and IV-drip, but according to Dr. Beckett, the allergic reaction had been less severe than it had looked like to Radek. Apparently the protein in that sweetener - a honey-like substance if Radek remembered correctly - wasn't quite as harmful to Rodney as real citrus could have been. It still didn't matter when the initial reaction had been enough to make all of them fear they'd lose Rodney. And despite everything that infuriated Radek about the other man, Atlantis without Rodney would be like a body without a heart. The reason that he kept those sentimentalities from Rodney was a healthy sense of self-preservation, but it didn't make them any less true.
There was the quiet sound of voices - Major Sheppard and Major Lorne debriefing Dr. Weir, he guessed - but he felt too tired and too heavy to concentrate on listening. Radek slipped into sleep while the unpleasant vertigo gave him the feeling of spinning, spinning, spinning in his bed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Subdued voices woke him from the depth of an unrestful sleep.
"-- you sure there's no chance to let them --"
A rustle of curtains and boxes pushed aside drowned out half of the spoken words.
"I'm afraid that while some of them could leave, others need to be under close watch at least. Especially Dr. Zelenka and Rodney."
"Carson, it's Christmas Eve." Dr. Weir managed to inflict both impatience and supplication into the simple statement.
When Dr. Beckett answered, his voice was gentle and reasonable. "Not all of them are Christian, Elizabeth."
A quiet exhalation, grappling for patience. "Does it matter? The sentiment is the same - everyone in the city is having a good time and they're stuck here."
"You make it sound as if that's a bad thing." Dr. Beckett sounded honestly offended. "I'm a good host."
"Carson ..." there was a smile audible in Dr. Weir's voice. "You know what I mean. No one wants to be in the hospital on a day like this. Are you sure there is no way?"
"Yeah, Doc, how about that?" Colonel Sheppard's voice suddenly chimed in. "I, personally, don't feel much like partying, but my team really shouldn't be stuck here." After a short pause, he added: "Neither should Lorne and Zelenka. They deserve better."
Dr. Beckett huffed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Two hours later, a procession of six very quiet people moved into a secluded common room, away from the high-spirited party in the mess hall. They were all huddled in blankets, burrowing deeper into them when they settled on the couches.
The consensus in the infirmary had been overwhelming: everyone wanted to leave, no one felt like joining the party, but no one wanted to spend the evening alone, either. Gathering in the common room had been Teyla's idea.
It was also Teyla who sat the broad Athosian candle in the middle of the table, lighting it under the watchful eyes of the men.
There were attempts at conversation, mostly by Rodney and Radek himself, but they fell flat: Answer were short and too rounded or too monosyllabic to keep a conversation going.
Radek had never before been on a mission where they had lost one of their own. He felt helpless in the face of the grim acceptance the military-trained team-members projected. What made it worse was that they were all fatigued enough that it was easy to see through those masks of stoicism. Sgt. Harris had been a quiet young man and it pained Radek that he couldn't remember his face. Harris had been protection, background personnel deployed with the new military contingent aboard the Daedalus and Radek didn't even know his first name.
Harris had still waited to go to the mainland, hadn't found a pilot with enough time to take him out. He had been saving time for a hike through the forest, though, Lorne had told him earlier. Harris had been into rock-climbing and foreign languages. Not especially brilliant, but a good and reliable soldier, Lorne had said. A good poker-player. He had had plans for the Christmas party, something about a cute redhead from the astrophysics department that had earned him a sharp retort from Rodney. And Radek didn't even remember his face.
He looked at Major Lorne, whose original team Harris had been on and found the younger man's face set in stone, only his jaw working. He was looking out the window at the snow that was falling here as well, eddying in front of the floor-length windows. A snow-capped Atlantis was beautiful, but Radek doubted that the Major appreciated or even saw this.
Major Lorne usually was quite pleasant to be around and Radek had enjoyed working with him on the few offworld missions he'd been on. If he was honest with himself, Major Lorne's twisted sense of humour had been the only thing that had kept him from throttling the children on M7G-677. Radek liked the Major, because, like Colonel Sheppard, he didn't look down on the scientists and valued their knowledge and expertise.
Seeing both men battling the burden of responsibility now was difficult and Radek felt the need to reassure them that it hadn't been their fault even while he himself couldn't shake the feeling of culpability. He saw the same thing reflected on the other faces in the room.
The opening hiss of the door brought a blessed distraction. As though driven by some strange kind of hive-mind, all six heads swivelled toward the open door, gazes zooming in on Dr. Weir who was matter-of-factly carrying a tray loaded with mugs and a thermos, as well as a big plate with sandwiches as if she was the cook on duty and not the head of Atlantis.
She noticed the surprised glances and frowned. "I thought you'd be hungry, but if you don't --"
Rodney moved the blanket away from his face and nodded. "Oh, we are."
"Starving," Ronon agreed, eyeing the sandwiches.
Major Lorne attempted to push himself off the chair to help Dr. Weir carry her load but sank back down on the chair with a muted sound of pain. Radek winced in sympathy when he remembered the Major's broken collarbone.
Dr. Weir's face clouded with concern. "Stay seated, Major, I can handle it."
She set the tray down on a corner of the low table in their middle and began placing the standard Atlantis mugs in front of them all.
"General O'Neill has sent a shipment of goods for the first real Christmas party on Atlantis," she said while taking the thermos off the tray as well. "Everyone down there has praised the hot chocolate, and since you all seemed pretty cold ..." She trailed off uneasily, and Radek found it reassuring that even Dr. Weir, someone usually so sure and unfazed, could sound uncertain. It made her seem less unapproachable and more human.
Dr. Weir poured the hot chocolate and Radek watched the small eddies of steam rising sluggishly from the mugs. The scent of chocolate and a hint of cinnamon filled the room, a familiar aroma that went to the part of him that was still homesick sometimes. Ronon sniffed carefully and sipped, his eyebrows rising in appreciation. Teyla watched him and smiled into her mug.
"Thank you, Dr. Weir," Radek said when she handed him his mug.
She smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry I disappeared on you, Radek, but I thought you would appreciate this as well." She gestured toward the couch and the empty space next to him. "If this place is free, I'll be doing Dr. Beckett's bidding from now on."
Radek felt a fierce blush creeping up his neck and into his cheek and just nodded.
There was a quiet rustle of blankets, then Major Lorne cleared his throat. "To Sgt. Harris," he said, raising his mug.
Six more mugs rose in the air, joining his in a quiet salute. "Sgt. Harris."
When they all settled back in their couches again, Radek noticed that Rodney was no longer eating. His sandwich sat on a napkin on the table, forgotten. His eyes were on Colonel Sheppard.
Radek glanced in Sheppard's direction.
The Colonel slouched on one of the couches, legs stretched in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He cradled a mug in his hands, the long fingers laced around the polished metal as though soaking up the warmth. Radek winced in sympathy and wriggled his cold toes.
Sheppard's eyes were unfocused, his face tipped up. He appeared to be watching the drifts of snow outside the window. Radek shivered involuntarily.
It would have been a peaceful picture if Radek hadn't seen the set of Sheppard's jaw, the white-knuckled grasp on the mug and the tension in his shoulders.
The Colonel was anything but relaxed. Radek sympathised: Despite Dr. Weir blessedly distracting interruption, he, too, couldn't shake the memories of the day. He could still feel the snow on his cheeks, no longer melting. Could hear the roar of the avalanche. He knew that if Teyla hadn't been there, he'd have died in the avalanche or frozen to death on that planet. It wasn't a pleasant thought, in general, but especially not on a day like today.
Though Radek wondered what was going on behind the Colonel's unreadable mask. Anger? Frustration? Guilt? It had been the Colonel after all, who had brought all of them to that planet to gather intelligence about the Wraith dart. Was he blaming himself for what happened on the planet? It was an absurd thought, but the longer Radek watched the Colonel, the more plausible it became. Rodney had often muttered about the Colonel's overprotective tendencies and Radek had been there when Rodney had been swept up by that dart, experiencing that overwhelming responsibility Colonel Sheppard felt for his team.
"Well, everyone having fun?" Rodney asked, but the sarcasm in his voice was nowhere near as effective as usual. Radek glanced at him. Rodney's back was bowed and he had the blanket pulled up so high it almost reached his chin. Above it, only the mug was still visible. "Feels just like home, doesn't it? Uncomfortable silences and no presents, and everyone waits for a Santa that never comes because he's just the invention of a Coke company."
Teyla and Ronon exchanged a confused glance while Colonel Sheppard winced a little and threw Rodney an indecipherable look. "Not tonight, Rodney."
Sheppard bent forward to the candle, smoothing the uneven edge of the softened wax with his index finger. It was already burning low, but Sheppard didn't seem to care, he focused on keeping it burning.
Radek became aware that he wasn't the only one watching the Colonel. Teyla and Ronon both had turned their attention to their team-leader. Rodney, who had been occupied with his mug, glanced sharply at Sheppard when the Colonel moved his finger through the candle-flame, slow as a sleepwalker. He repeated the movement, unhurried and hypnotic, often enough to make Radek worry about burns. Sheppard's face was soft, his eyes unfocused.
The quiet stretched through a refill of the mugs and then another, heavy but not entirely uncomfortable. Radek felt Dr. Weir watching her people but he was glad about her silence and her perceptiveness that for once, talking was not what was needed. The lack of conversation created a delicate balance between them all, a quiet understanding and a level of comfort that never would have been achieved in another way.
It was possible that hours had passed since they had all sat down, or only minutes, Radek couldn't tell. He was drifting in and out when Dr. Weir spoke up. "Someone should take care of the candle." She gestured toward the table where the flickering light of the candle was dancing across the shiny surface. "We don't want a fire starting here."
Rodney raised his head from the couch and sceptically looked at the spluttering Athosian candle out of slitted eyes. "Won't be necessary." He yawned. "Look at it, it'll burn down in half an hour or less."
"No," Ronon rumbled, already half asleep. "It won't."
"Have you looked at it?" Rodney's eyes opened a bit more and his face settled into the familiar condescending mien. "Half an hour, tops."
Ronon raised his head from the couch and squinted at Rodney. "If you say so."
"It's a matter of simple physics and chemistry." Rodney's gaze flitted to Radek, demanding concurrence. "Half an hour and it's dead." Looking past Radek to Dr. Weir, he added: "Don't fuss, Elizabeth."
Radek could feel Dr. Weir tensing next to him, saw the way her mouth tightened, but it was Sheppard who stopped the looming argument. "I'll keep an eye out for it."
"Why?" Rodney sounded exasperated. "It's dying down. Just leave it. Or better yet, just put it out." He moved under the blankets, inching forward, his hand already stretched out toward the candle.
"No." Sheppard's hand shot out, clamping around Rodney's forearm.
Radek had been watching both Dr. Weir and Rodney until now, but his gaze snapped up to the Colonel. In that one simple word, that quick gesture, so many inflections had been obvious. Sheppard's hand didn't shake on Rodney's forearm, but it was white-knuckled, locked around it painfully tight. Rodney didn't say a word. There was something laid bare in that very moment, walls crumbling around Sheppard, something visible that was usually hidden.
Radek held his breath and noticed the others doing the same.
Rodney's hand carefully went to Sheppard's, undoing the tightly grasping fingers one by one. Sheppard didn't seem to notice, just stared at the candle.
Teyla inclined her head, watchful and perceptive.
Lorne's face was still pinched, but something like understanding flickered over it.
Ronon just nodded.
Radek would have expected a scathing remark from Rodney, but to his great surprise, the other man held back, watching Sheppard carefully, as though judging a skittish predator. "Well, then," Rodney said, voice too loud and forced casual, "you're on candle duty."
Rodney settled back against the couch but kept watching Sheppard, confusion and anxiety open on his face. He rubbed his arm in a gesture Radek was sure he wasn't even aware of. His shoulder brushed Sheppard's.
Next to him, Dr. Weir leaned forward, looking at the Colonel in concern as well. Sheppard didn't seem to notice, he still stared at the candle.
Radek, too, turned his gaze toward the flame, allowing the Colonel the privacy of his thoughts and hoped the other man would appreciate it. He couldn't know if he was doing the right thing. Maybe talking would have been the better option, but Radek's gut feeling told him to stay quiet even though he had no confirmation.
This wasn't his team. He didn't really have a team outside his fellow scientists, he had only been on select few offworld missions and never had found a feeling of belonging that Rodney seemed to find in the offworld missions of his team. But this was more than just belonging. They all watched Sheppard now, every single one of them and the shared concern gave them something bigger, a connection Radek had never felt before. He had thought about leaving, about going back to the infirmary when he had felt unbearably dizzy and nauseous earlier, but he decided firmly against it now. This was more important. Even Rodney McKay appeared to realise that, because he kept quiet, didn't fidget, just left his shoulder where it was for Sheppard to feel while the other man stared at the candle, lost in thought.
The silence became oppressive after a while, unbearable for Radek who didn't have the same easy companionship with Atlantis' flag-team. He felt Dr. Weir shift uncomfortably next to him, too, and Major Lorne looked strangely distant, trapped in his own web of self-accusation and grief.
He caught Teyla's glance, saw the wistfulness in that young and too knowing face and wished there was a way to take her mind off what had happened. To take all their minds off it.
Radek remembered his family, then, especially his grandmother, who had always managed to dispel every bleak mood by telling a story out of her boundless well of fairy tales and myths. A small smile flitted over his face at the chance to do something to help lighten the mood.
"The area I come from, we have an ancient tale about nights like this," he began, addressing Teyla. He felt the other's eyes settle on him as well. "This time of year, we call the nights of the Night Spirits - the wild nights." A gust of wind pushed against the floor-length windows. The hollow howling noise it created in the city's spires was audible even here.
"According to legend, in the wild nights the fate of all life on earth was being decided. The ultimate fight between the forces of chaos and evil and the new-born light."
Teyla had leaned forward, her chin resting in her uninjured hand. Ronon's gaze followed her movement slowly. He looked tired beyond measure.
Rodney frowned slightly. "That's not a Czech myth."
Radek nodded. "No, it's Pagan. Back in the time, there were no European countries yet."
"So, how do you know if it's really from the area you're from? It could be from France for all you know, that's not really --"
"Rodney," Dr. Weir interrupted him, looking up with a light smile playing around her lips. "Let Radek tell his story."
Rodney huffed and let his head sink against the back of the couch once more. Radek noted that his shoulder and thigh were still pressed against Sheppard's, and that Sheppard hadn't moved away from the quiet confirmation of someone being there with him, either. The Colonel didn't pay attention to the conversation around him, but Radek was sure that he appreciated the nearness of them all. He had spent six months in isolation from his people - Radek didn't blame him from wanting to stay close to them.
"Well, are you going to start anytime soon?"
Radek grinned: Rodney even managed to glare with only one eye open.
"In the old days, the last nights of December were considered magical." Radek lowered his voice as his grandmother had done, falling back into the story-telling tradition that had been so strong in his family. "The first of the twelve wild nights was considered the rebirth of the light. But the light was weak at first, only small and insignificant, and the demons and the darkness swirled around it, trying to smother it. The wild nights were times of the return of souls and the sighting of ghosts. "
"Cheerful," Rodney murmured, subdued. His eyes were closed. So were Teyla's. Lorne stared out the window.
"People would do everything they could do help the light, because the old folk believed that from this day the Wild Hunt of Winter was set free, rushing through the air, searching the land before the beginning of the New Year. The dreams in those twelve nights were supposed to be prophetic, marking the change from chaos to order. "
The wind outside howled louder, making Radek shiver involuntarily. Teyla opened her eyes again and smiled at him.
"So we would do well to remember our dreams?"
"It is only an old folk legend," Radek said, cautiously.
Ronon shifted, crossing his legs at his ankles but not opening his eyes. "Nothing wrong with legends."
"There's always one grain of truth in legends," Dr. Weir intersected. "And it can't hurt, now can it?" She winked at him. "Maybe one of you dreams of a way to defeat the Wraith."
Radek let himself smile back, and could see Teyla doing the same. Even Ronon's lips twitched.
"Maybe one of us already does," Teyla said, her smile colouring her voice to a deep honeyed tone. She inclined her head toward Rodney who had dropped off to sleep, head resting against the back of the couch, mouth open. Even now, he was still touching Sheppard.
Sheppard, who was still staring at the candle, quiet and distant.
"Better sleep now and get as prophetic as possible, then." Radek was surprised to hear Major Lorne speak up when he had been quiet the entire time. "Let's just hope no one dreams of walking through the control room naked. That would just suck as a prophecy." He flashed a grin at Dr. Weir who snorted softly.
"I'll personally censor that dream, Major. Even I have my limits."
The easy banter between the two of them continued for a while, sometimes Teyla or Ronon added something, too, and Radek closed his eyes, letting the voices wash over him. He was going to go to his quarters soon and leave the flag-team to be amongst themselves. Soon. Very soon. But for now, the calm sound of familiar voices around him was like the patter of rain on leaves. It lulled him in. The last thing he noticed was Dr. Weir's hand against his, warm in a way his no longer was.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Radek woke up the next morning, murky sunlight was trickling through the floor-length windows. Somewhere outside the common room, a voice was laughing, just a carefree sound of joy that made the corners of his mouth twitch.
He looked over to the other couches; surprised to see that no one who had been on the team yesterday had left the room.
Teyla had her head pillowed against Ronon's shoulder, a shock of that soft auburn hair falling over her face and obscuring it. One strand moved with every exhalation.
On the next armchair, Major Lorne was sprawled, looking younger than Radek had ever seen him.
Dr. Weir seemed to have slipped out of the room during the night, leaving her place on the couch next to him empty, Radek noted, a little disappointed.
Rodney was still on the same couch he had fallen asleep on the previous night, his head at an impossible angle that Radek just knew he would hear about all day long. Rodney looked peaceful for the moment, though, so Radek was willing to put up with it, especially considering what had happened yesterday. If anyone on Atlantis deserved more sleep, it was Rodney.
The candle on the table in their middle was still burning, the flame moving weightlessly in a light draught. Over the flame's top, Radek became aware of a pair of open eyes and he started.
A smirk flitted over the Colonel's face. "Relax."
Radek's tense muscles eased slightly. He took in the Colonel's posture - more relaxed than the night before, the aura of sadness vanished. Rodney was still close to him and Sheppard didn't seem to have shifted from the close contact at all, quite the opposite, he seemed to welcome it.
Sheppard caught him scrutinising both men and shrugged, a smile playing around his lips that was equally self-conscious and defensive. He seemed ready to explain himself but Radek held up a hand. There was no need for explanations. Radek felt a surge of protectiveness for the other man wash over him. Sheppard deserved this quiet comfort. More than anyone.
"Have you slept at all?" he asked, gently taking the focus off the unspoken conversation.
Sheppard's gaze went back to the candle. "It's still burning," he said instead of an answer.
Radek tilted his head and looked at Sheppard with a quiet smile.
A stronger draught moved the flame and Sheppard's head snapped up. Radek followed his movement and saw Dr. Weir standing in the doorway, her hair loose around her face, clad more casual than he had ever seen her. Behind her, the loud laughter echoed through the hallway again, making her smile. She slipped in the common room quietly, letting the door close behind her.
"Sorry," she whispered indicating the room and the people in it with a small sweeping gesture. "I just wanted to ..." She trailed off when she saw the candle still burning on the table. Her eyes widened. "How did you --"
"I didn't take it!" Rodney sat up straight, blinking furiously to clear his eyes. After a few seconds of disorientation, he sank back against the couch, groaning and clutching his neck. Sheppard winced in sympathy and reached out to pat Rodney's back lightly. "Bad dream?"
"Rubber ducks," Rodney mumbled. "Chasing me."
Radek bit the inside of his cheek and glanced at Dr. Weir. She mouthed "Prophetic?" and he could no longer quell the laughter bubbling up.
Sheppard grinned with them, apparently fully settled back into his skin.
Around them, Teyla, Ronon and Lorne awoke slowly, stretching and yawning, looking weary but much more calm.
There was a minor, good-natured argument between Rodney and Sheppard about the dangers of rubber ducks versus clowns when Teyla rose fluidly and stepped next to the table. Kneeling next to it, she regarded the candle, whispering words in Ancient.
The room fell silent and all eyes settled on the candle.
"It's still burning," Rodney said, something akin to awe in his voice.
Teyla smiled at Sheppard, her eyes bright and proud. Ronon looked at the candle, then back to Sheppard, and gave him a short nod of approval.
"Of course it is," Radek agreed. "It had a guardian."
Sheppard's gaze flickered for a moment. In the end, he smiled. "I suppose it did."
The end
My Secret Santa story was:
Night Spirits
Pairing: none / team, gen
Characters: Zelenka, team, Lorne, a dash of Weir
Rating: PG
Recipient: murron (you can all imagine the squee I gave when I realised I was writing for my best friend? And then the sound of dismay for having to hide the writing from her?)
Spoilers: through Critical Mass, with special nods to Epiphany and The Hive
Summary: "The area I come from, we have an ancient tale about nights like this"
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
Beta-read: By the ever lovely auburnnothenna (including hand-holding and constant encouragement) and quiller77. Thank you.
Notes: Murron wanted: snow, warm clothing, hot beverages, off-world settings, food, team interaction, Sheppard's hands, Ancient or any other mythology, Zelenka-appearances, geeks in general, various states of undress, silent comfort, threatening lemons. Some were a stretch, but I think I've got most things shoehorned in.
Night Spirits
Radek Zelenka hated off world missions. He wasn't an adventurous man, and while he liked seeing new things and the joy of discovery, he preferred them to be safe. This mission, this supposedly simple mission that had required his assistance, had turned out to be anything but. Radek should have known. No good came of days when he stepped out of bed with his left foot first. And this morning, the day before Christmas, he had even fallen out of bed.
Really, he told himself afterward, he should have known.
Sheppard had said that when they had left the Dart after escaping from the fight between the Hive ships, it had been warm and balmy on the planet.
They had, however, stepped through the Stargate to find themselves in snowdrifts deep enough to hide even Ronon Dex. The trek up to the cave where the Colonel had been hiding the Dart had been miserable and cold, despite the fur-coats the people who had been guarding the Dart for the Colonel had given them. Even Sheppard had admitted there and then, much to Rodney's crowing delight, that with the snow changing the area so completely, he'd never have been able to find the Dart on his own.
Rodney, still giddy from his small victory over Sheppard, had been the first to start the unholy chain of events. Barely twenty steps into the place where the Colonel had been hiding the Dart, he had broken through the ice covering a stream invisible under the snow. Major Lorne had only barely stopped Radek from following suit. Ronon had had a hard time fishing Rodney from the icy stream; his weight proving to be a serious issue on the already cracked ice. In the end, it had been his swiftness that had gotten Rodney out. The stream in itself hadn't been deep, but Rodney had been completely soaked, enough to make hypothermia a very real threat. The natives who were guiding them had for once not been hostile, and had taken Rodney into a hastily set-up tent, had given him dry clothes and something hot to drink, while Sheppard, Teyla, Lorne, Ronon and Radek watched him shiver too much to speak.
It was already too late when Rodney realised what was wrong with that drink. He had been asking about it, asking if it contained citrus, but according to Carson's later exam, there was no way Rodney, or anyone for that matter, could have known. The tea Rodney had been given didn't even smell like citrus nor had the sweetener stirred in it a name that would have suggested a relation. But, apparently, the allergy-triggering protein was the same.
They had almost lost Rodney then, and Radek never, ever wanted to see someone fighting for breath like that again, nor the sheer terror in Rodney's eyes. Sheppard and Ronon carried Rodney back to the Stargate, over a distance that had seem minor before, but from the radio reports, had become a test of their endurance.
Radek had stayed behind, determined to finish Rodney's work alone, to somehow make up both for lost time and to ease his conscience. Lorne, Harris and Teyla had stayed with him.
He had only vague memories of returning to Atlantis, only blurred pictures and feelings of cold and white and roaring, tearing at his body and mind, the snow lashing into his face no longer melting. He later found out that there had been a blizzard on the planet and that the remainder of the team had been caught in an avalanche that had swept away their local guides.
If it hadn't been for Teyla's quick reflexes and even quicker thinking, neither he nor Major Lorne he would have survived. She hadn't managed to get to Harris in time, however.
Now the entire team was in the infirmary, Radek with a mild concussion and hypothermia, Teyla with a broken arm, Lorne with a dislocated shoulder and a broken collarbone from when he had tried to hold on to him and Teyla during the avalanche. Ronon's hands were bandaged for the cuts he had suffered when pulling Rodney out of the jagged ice and the Colonel, who'd given his jacket to the half-frozen Rodney on the way back was severely hypothermic as well. All of them had at least slight cases of frostbite.
They were all subdued. There was none of the normal chattering and complaints that followed the few off world missions Radek had been on before. But then, Radek had never been on a mission where they had lost one of their own. He felt dizzy and sick.
Rodney was still pale and on an oxygen mask and IV-drip, but according to Dr. Beckett, the allergic reaction had been less severe than it had looked like to Radek. Apparently the protein in that sweetener - a honey-like substance if Radek remembered correctly - wasn't quite as harmful to Rodney as real citrus could have been. It still didn't matter when the initial reaction had been enough to make all of them fear they'd lose Rodney. And despite everything that infuriated Radek about the other man, Atlantis without Rodney would be like a body without a heart. The reason that he kept those sentimentalities from Rodney was a healthy sense of self-preservation, but it didn't make them any less true.
There was the quiet sound of voices - Major Sheppard and Major Lorne debriefing Dr. Weir, he guessed - but he felt too tired and too heavy to concentrate on listening. Radek slipped into sleep while the unpleasant vertigo gave him the feeling of spinning, spinning, spinning in his bed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Subdued voices woke him from the depth of an unrestful sleep.
"-- you sure there's no chance to let them --"
A rustle of curtains and boxes pushed aside drowned out half of the spoken words.
"I'm afraid that while some of them could leave, others need to be under close watch at least. Especially Dr. Zelenka and Rodney."
"Carson, it's Christmas Eve." Dr. Weir managed to inflict both impatience and supplication into the simple statement.
When Dr. Beckett answered, his voice was gentle and reasonable. "Not all of them are Christian, Elizabeth."
A quiet exhalation, grappling for patience. "Does it matter? The sentiment is the same - everyone in the city is having a good time and they're stuck here."
"You make it sound as if that's a bad thing." Dr. Beckett sounded honestly offended. "I'm a good host."
"Carson ..." there was a smile audible in Dr. Weir's voice. "You know what I mean. No one wants to be in the hospital on a day like this. Are you sure there is no way?"
"Yeah, Doc, how about that?" Colonel Sheppard's voice suddenly chimed in. "I, personally, don't feel much like partying, but my team really shouldn't be stuck here." After a short pause, he added: "Neither should Lorne and Zelenka. They deserve better."
Dr. Beckett huffed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Two hours later, a procession of six very quiet people moved into a secluded common room, away from the high-spirited party in the mess hall. They were all huddled in blankets, burrowing deeper into them when they settled on the couches.
The consensus in the infirmary had been overwhelming: everyone wanted to leave, no one felt like joining the party, but no one wanted to spend the evening alone, either. Gathering in the common room had been Teyla's idea.
It was also Teyla who sat the broad Athosian candle in the middle of the table, lighting it under the watchful eyes of the men.
There were attempts at conversation, mostly by Rodney and Radek himself, but they fell flat: Answer were short and too rounded or too monosyllabic to keep a conversation going.
Radek had never before been on a mission where they had lost one of their own. He felt helpless in the face of the grim acceptance the military-trained team-members projected. What made it worse was that they were all fatigued enough that it was easy to see through those masks of stoicism. Sgt. Harris had been a quiet young man and it pained Radek that he couldn't remember his face. Harris had been protection, background personnel deployed with the new military contingent aboard the Daedalus and Radek didn't even know his first name.
Harris had still waited to go to the mainland, hadn't found a pilot with enough time to take him out. He had been saving time for a hike through the forest, though, Lorne had told him earlier. Harris had been into rock-climbing and foreign languages. Not especially brilliant, but a good and reliable soldier, Lorne had said. A good poker-player. He had had plans for the Christmas party, something about a cute redhead from the astrophysics department that had earned him a sharp retort from Rodney. And Radek didn't even remember his face.
He looked at Major Lorne, whose original team Harris had been on and found the younger man's face set in stone, only his jaw working. He was looking out the window at the snow that was falling here as well, eddying in front of the floor-length windows. A snow-capped Atlantis was beautiful, but Radek doubted that the Major appreciated or even saw this.
Major Lorne usually was quite pleasant to be around and Radek had enjoyed working with him on the few offworld missions he'd been on. If he was honest with himself, Major Lorne's twisted sense of humour had been the only thing that had kept him from throttling the children on M7G-677. Radek liked the Major, because, like Colonel Sheppard, he didn't look down on the scientists and valued their knowledge and expertise.
Seeing both men battling the burden of responsibility now was difficult and Radek felt the need to reassure them that it hadn't been their fault even while he himself couldn't shake the feeling of culpability. He saw the same thing reflected on the other faces in the room.
The opening hiss of the door brought a blessed distraction. As though driven by some strange kind of hive-mind, all six heads swivelled toward the open door, gazes zooming in on Dr. Weir who was matter-of-factly carrying a tray loaded with mugs and a thermos, as well as a big plate with sandwiches as if she was the cook on duty and not the head of Atlantis.
She noticed the surprised glances and frowned. "I thought you'd be hungry, but if you don't --"
Rodney moved the blanket away from his face and nodded. "Oh, we are."
"Starving," Ronon agreed, eyeing the sandwiches.
Major Lorne attempted to push himself off the chair to help Dr. Weir carry her load but sank back down on the chair with a muted sound of pain. Radek winced in sympathy when he remembered the Major's broken collarbone.
Dr. Weir's face clouded with concern. "Stay seated, Major, I can handle it."
She set the tray down on a corner of the low table in their middle and began placing the standard Atlantis mugs in front of them all.
"General O'Neill has sent a shipment of goods for the first real Christmas party on Atlantis," she said while taking the thermos off the tray as well. "Everyone down there has praised the hot chocolate, and since you all seemed pretty cold ..." She trailed off uneasily, and Radek found it reassuring that even Dr. Weir, someone usually so sure and unfazed, could sound uncertain. It made her seem less unapproachable and more human.
Dr. Weir poured the hot chocolate and Radek watched the small eddies of steam rising sluggishly from the mugs. The scent of chocolate and a hint of cinnamon filled the room, a familiar aroma that went to the part of him that was still homesick sometimes. Ronon sniffed carefully and sipped, his eyebrows rising in appreciation. Teyla watched him and smiled into her mug.
"Thank you, Dr. Weir," Radek said when she handed him his mug.
She smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry I disappeared on you, Radek, but I thought you would appreciate this as well." She gestured toward the couch and the empty space next to him. "If this place is free, I'll be doing Dr. Beckett's bidding from now on."
Radek felt a fierce blush creeping up his neck and into his cheek and just nodded.
There was a quiet rustle of blankets, then Major Lorne cleared his throat. "To Sgt. Harris," he said, raising his mug.
Six more mugs rose in the air, joining his in a quiet salute. "Sgt. Harris."
When they all settled back in their couches again, Radek noticed that Rodney was no longer eating. His sandwich sat on a napkin on the table, forgotten. His eyes were on Colonel Sheppard.
Radek glanced in Sheppard's direction.
The Colonel slouched on one of the couches, legs stretched in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He cradled a mug in his hands, the long fingers laced around the polished metal as though soaking up the warmth. Radek winced in sympathy and wriggled his cold toes.
Sheppard's eyes were unfocused, his face tipped up. He appeared to be watching the drifts of snow outside the window. Radek shivered involuntarily.
It would have been a peaceful picture if Radek hadn't seen the set of Sheppard's jaw, the white-knuckled grasp on the mug and the tension in his shoulders.
The Colonel was anything but relaxed. Radek sympathised: Despite Dr. Weir blessedly distracting interruption, he, too, couldn't shake the memories of the day. He could still feel the snow on his cheeks, no longer melting. Could hear the roar of the avalanche. He knew that if Teyla hadn't been there, he'd have died in the avalanche or frozen to death on that planet. It wasn't a pleasant thought, in general, but especially not on a day like today.
Though Radek wondered what was going on behind the Colonel's unreadable mask. Anger? Frustration? Guilt? It had been the Colonel after all, who had brought all of them to that planet to gather intelligence about the Wraith dart. Was he blaming himself for what happened on the planet? It was an absurd thought, but the longer Radek watched the Colonel, the more plausible it became. Rodney had often muttered about the Colonel's overprotective tendencies and Radek had been there when Rodney had been swept up by that dart, experiencing that overwhelming responsibility Colonel Sheppard felt for his team.
"Well, everyone having fun?" Rodney asked, but the sarcasm in his voice was nowhere near as effective as usual. Radek glanced at him. Rodney's back was bowed and he had the blanket pulled up so high it almost reached his chin. Above it, only the mug was still visible. "Feels just like home, doesn't it? Uncomfortable silences and no presents, and everyone waits for a Santa that never comes because he's just the invention of a Coke company."
Teyla and Ronon exchanged a confused glance while Colonel Sheppard winced a little and threw Rodney an indecipherable look. "Not tonight, Rodney."
Sheppard bent forward to the candle, smoothing the uneven edge of the softened wax with his index finger. It was already burning low, but Sheppard didn't seem to care, he focused on keeping it burning.
Radek became aware that he wasn't the only one watching the Colonel. Teyla and Ronon both had turned their attention to their team-leader. Rodney, who had been occupied with his mug, glanced sharply at Sheppard when the Colonel moved his finger through the candle-flame, slow as a sleepwalker. He repeated the movement, unhurried and hypnotic, often enough to make Radek worry about burns. Sheppard's face was soft, his eyes unfocused.
The quiet stretched through a refill of the mugs and then another, heavy but not entirely uncomfortable. Radek felt Dr. Weir watching her people but he was glad about her silence and her perceptiveness that for once, talking was not what was needed. The lack of conversation created a delicate balance between them all, a quiet understanding and a level of comfort that never would have been achieved in another way.
It was possible that hours had passed since they had all sat down, or only minutes, Radek couldn't tell. He was drifting in and out when Dr. Weir spoke up. "Someone should take care of the candle." She gestured toward the table where the flickering light of the candle was dancing across the shiny surface. "We don't want a fire starting here."
Rodney raised his head from the couch and sceptically looked at the spluttering Athosian candle out of slitted eyes. "Won't be necessary." He yawned. "Look at it, it'll burn down in half an hour or less."
"No," Ronon rumbled, already half asleep. "It won't."
"Have you looked at it?" Rodney's eyes opened a bit more and his face settled into the familiar condescending mien. "Half an hour, tops."
Ronon raised his head from the couch and squinted at Rodney. "If you say so."
"It's a matter of simple physics and chemistry." Rodney's gaze flitted to Radek, demanding concurrence. "Half an hour and it's dead." Looking past Radek to Dr. Weir, he added: "Don't fuss, Elizabeth."
Radek could feel Dr. Weir tensing next to him, saw the way her mouth tightened, but it was Sheppard who stopped the looming argument. "I'll keep an eye out for it."
"Why?" Rodney sounded exasperated. "It's dying down. Just leave it. Or better yet, just put it out." He moved under the blankets, inching forward, his hand already stretched out toward the candle.
"No." Sheppard's hand shot out, clamping around Rodney's forearm.
Radek had been watching both Dr. Weir and Rodney until now, but his gaze snapped up to the Colonel. In that one simple word, that quick gesture, so many inflections had been obvious. Sheppard's hand didn't shake on Rodney's forearm, but it was white-knuckled, locked around it painfully tight. Rodney didn't say a word. There was something laid bare in that very moment, walls crumbling around Sheppard, something visible that was usually hidden.
Radek held his breath and noticed the others doing the same.
Rodney's hand carefully went to Sheppard's, undoing the tightly grasping fingers one by one. Sheppard didn't seem to notice, just stared at the candle.
Teyla inclined her head, watchful and perceptive.
Lorne's face was still pinched, but something like understanding flickered over it.
Ronon just nodded.
Radek would have expected a scathing remark from Rodney, but to his great surprise, the other man held back, watching Sheppard carefully, as though judging a skittish predator. "Well, then," Rodney said, voice too loud and forced casual, "you're on candle duty."
Rodney settled back against the couch but kept watching Sheppard, confusion and anxiety open on his face. He rubbed his arm in a gesture Radek was sure he wasn't even aware of. His shoulder brushed Sheppard's.
Next to him, Dr. Weir leaned forward, looking at the Colonel in concern as well. Sheppard didn't seem to notice, he still stared at the candle.
Radek, too, turned his gaze toward the flame, allowing the Colonel the privacy of his thoughts and hoped the other man would appreciate it. He couldn't know if he was doing the right thing. Maybe talking would have been the better option, but Radek's gut feeling told him to stay quiet even though he had no confirmation.
This wasn't his team. He didn't really have a team outside his fellow scientists, he had only been on select few offworld missions and never had found a feeling of belonging that Rodney seemed to find in the offworld missions of his team. But this was more than just belonging. They all watched Sheppard now, every single one of them and the shared concern gave them something bigger, a connection Radek had never felt before. He had thought about leaving, about going back to the infirmary when he had felt unbearably dizzy and nauseous earlier, but he decided firmly against it now. This was more important. Even Rodney McKay appeared to realise that, because he kept quiet, didn't fidget, just left his shoulder where it was for Sheppard to feel while the other man stared at the candle, lost in thought.
The silence became oppressive after a while, unbearable for Radek who didn't have the same easy companionship with Atlantis' flag-team. He felt Dr. Weir shift uncomfortably next to him, too, and Major Lorne looked strangely distant, trapped in his own web of self-accusation and grief.
He caught Teyla's glance, saw the wistfulness in that young and too knowing face and wished there was a way to take her mind off what had happened. To take all their minds off it.
Radek remembered his family, then, especially his grandmother, who had always managed to dispel every bleak mood by telling a story out of her boundless well of fairy tales and myths. A small smile flitted over his face at the chance to do something to help lighten the mood.
"The area I come from, we have an ancient tale about nights like this," he began, addressing Teyla. He felt the other's eyes settle on him as well. "This time of year, we call the nights of the Night Spirits - the wild nights." A gust of wind pushed against the floor-length windows. The hollow howling noise it created in the city's spires was audible even here.
"According to legend, in the wild nights the fate of all life on earth was being decided. The ultimate fight between the forces of chaos and evil and the new-born light."
Teyla had leaned forward, her chin resting in her uninjured hand. Ronon's gaze followed her movement slowly. He looked tired beyond measure.
Rodney frowned slightly. "That's not a Czech myth."
Radek nodded. "No, it's Pagan. Back in the time, there were no European countries yet."
"So, how do you know if it's really from the area you're from? It could be from France for all you know, that's not really --"
"Rodney," Dr. Weir interrupted him, looking up with a light smile playing around her lips. "Let Radek tell his story."
Rodney huffed and let his head sink against the back of the couch once more. Radek noted that his shoulder and thigh were still pressed against Sheppard's, and that Sheppard hadn't moved away from the quiet confirmation of someone being there with him, either. The Colonel didn't pay attention to the conversation around him, but Radek was sure that he appreciated the nearness of them all. He had spent six months in isolation from his people - Radek didn't blame him from wanting to stay close to them.
"Well, are you going to start anytime soon?"
Radek grinned: Rodney even managed to glare with only one eye open.
"In the old days, the last nights of December were considered magical." Radek lowered his voice as his grandmother had done, falling back into the story-telling tradition that had been so strong in his family. "The first of the twelve wild nights was considered the rebirth of the light. But the light was weak at first, only small and insignificant, and the demons and the darkness swirled around it, trying to smother it. The wild nights were times of the return of souls and the sighting of ghosts. "
"Cheerful," Rodney murmured, subdued. His eyes were closed. So were Teyla's. Lorne stared out the window.
"People would do everything they could do help the light, because the old folk believed that from this day the Wild Hunt of Winter was set free, rushing through the air, searching the land before the beginning of the New Year. The dreams in those twelve nights were supposed to be prophetic, marking the change from chaos to order. "
The wind outside howled louder, making Radek shiver involuntarily. Teyla opened her eyes again and smiled at him.
"So we would do well to remember our dreams?"
"It is only an old folk legend," Radek said, cautiously.
Ronon shifted, crossing his legs at his ankles but not opening his eyes. "Nothing wrong with legends."
"There's always one grain of truth in legends," Dr. Weir intersected. "And it can't hurt, now can it?" She winked at him. "Maybe one of you dreams of a way to defeat the Wraith."
Radek let himself smile back, and could see Teyla doing the same. Even Ronon's lips twitched.
"Maybe one of us already does," Teyla said, her smile colouring her voice to a deep honeyed tone. She inclined her head toward Rodney who had dropped off to sleep, head resting against the back of the couch, mouth open. Even now, he was still touching Sheppard.
Sheppard, who was still staring at the candle, quiet and distant.
"Better sleep now and get as prophetic as possible, then." Radek was surprised to hear Major Lorne speak up when he had been quiet the entire time. "Let's just hope no one dreams of walking through the control room naked. That would just suck as a prophecy." He flashed a grin at Dr. Weir who snorted softly.
"I'll personally censor that dream, Major. Even I have my limits."
The easy banter between the two of them continued for a while, sometimes Teyla or Ronon added something, too, and Radek closed his eyes, letting the voices wash over him. He was going to go to his quarters soon and leave the flag-team to be amongst themselves. Soon. Very soon. But for now, the calm sound of familiar voices around him was like the patter of rain on leaves. It lulled him in. The last thing he noticed was Dr. Weir's hand against his, warm in a way his no longer was.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Radek woke up the next morning, murky sunlight was trickling through the floor-length windows. Somewhere outside the common room, a voice was laughing, just a carefree sound of joy that made the corners of his mouth twitch.
He looked over to the other couches; surprised to see that no one who had been on the team yesterday had left the room.
Teyla had her head pillowed against Ronon's shoulder, a shock of that soft auburn hair falling over her face and obscuring it. One strand moved with every exhalation.
On the next armchair, Major Lorne was sprawled, looking younger than Radek had ever seen him.
Dr. Weir seemed to have slipped out of the room during the night, leaving her place on the couch next to him empty, Radek noted, a little disappointed.
Rodney was still on the same couch he had fallen asleep on the previous night, his head at an impossible angle that Radek just knew he would hear about all day long. Rodney looked peaceful for the moment, though, so Radek was willing to put up with it, especially considering what had happened yesterday. If anyone on Atlantis deserved more sleep, it was Rodney.
The candle on the table in their middle was still burning, the flame moving weightlessly in a light draught. Over the flame's top, Radek became aware of a pair of open eyes and he started.
A smirk flitted over the Colonel's face. "Relax."
Radek's tense muscles eased slightly. He took in the Colonel's posture - more relaxed than the night before, the aura of sadness vanished. Rodney was still close to him and Sheppard didn't seem to have shifted from the close contact at all, quite the opposite, he seemed to welcome it.
Sheppard caught him scrutinising both men and shrugged, a smile playing around his lips that was equally self-conscious and defensive. He seemed ready to explain himself but Radek held up a hand. There was no need for explanations. Radek felt a surge of protectiveness for the other man wash over him. Sheppard deserved this quiet comfort. More than anyone.
"Have you slept at all?" he asked, gently taking the focus off the unspoken conversation.
Sheppard's gaze went back to the candle. "It's still burning," he said instead of an answer.
Radek tilted his head and looked at Sheppard with a quiet smile.
A stronger draught moved the flame and Sheppard's head snapped up. Radek followed his movement and saw Dr. Weir standing in the doorway, her hair loose around her face, clad more casual than he had ever seen her. Behind her, the loud laughter echoed through the hallway again, making her smile. She slipped in the common room quietly, letting the door close behind her.
"Sorry," she whispered indicating the room and the people in it with a small sweeping gesture. "I just wanted to ..." She trailed off when she saw the candle still burning on the table. Her eyes widened. "How did you --"
"I didn't take it!" Rodney sat up straight, blinking furiously to clear his eyes. After a few seconds of disorientation, he sank back against the couch, groaning and clutching his neck. Sheppard winced in sympathy and reached out to pat Rodney's back lightly. "Bad dream?"
"Rubber ducks," Rodney mumbled. "Chasing me."
Radek bit the inside of his cheek and glanced at Dr. Weir. She mouthed "Prophetic?" and he could no longer quell the laughter bubbling up.
Sheppard grinned with them, apparently fully settled back into his skin.
Around them, Teyla, Ronon and Lorne awoke slowly, stretching and yawning, looking weary but much more calm.
There was a minor, good-natured argument between Rodney and Sheppard about the dangers of rubber ducks versus clowns when Teyla rose fluidly and stepped next to the table. Kneeling next to it, she regarded the candle, whispering words in Ancient.
The room fell silent and all eyes settled on the candle.
"It's still burning," Rodney said, something akin to awe in his voice.
Teyla smiled at Sheppard, her eyes bright and proud. Ronon looked at the candle, then back to Sheppard, and gave him a short nod of approval.
"Of course it is," Radek agreed. "It had a guardian."
Sheppard's gaze flickered for a moment. In the end, he smiled. "I suppose it did."
The end