AU, Week 3: To My Destiny

[sholio]

Title: To My Destiny
Author: kodiak_bear
Prompt: AU/Youth
Word Count: 8800+
Rating: PG13
Summary: Janus convinced the council, and the time traveling Gate Ship changed everything.
AN: Thank you to my beta, who shall remain anon until authors are revealed.



To My Destiny

~*~

“Elinor, this isn't something I can fight,” George protested. He ran a tired, frustrated hand through his hair. Though gray was beginning to creep into the edges, George Sheppard still had the head full of thick, unruly hair that Elinor had fallen in love with on their first date.

The same hair that John had; her eyes shifted to her youngest child, playing quietly in the yard with his metal planes. God, she thought, closing her eyes. What if? He was so young...

“Look, you know the odds are astronomical. How many actually exist? If we don't comply, they'll do it anyway.” George paced to the small bar across the room; they'd splurged and had it built into the den last year. He pulled a crystal tumbler from the bottom shelf and glanced at his wife, a question on his face. She nodded tightly. Today she'd drink.

~*~

“I won't go.” John was steadfast in his refusal. But his eyes were pleading. “Dave can't come and I don't want to.”

In George's hand, a slip of paper with the results of his son's blood tests, now crumpled and wrinkled, and tear-stained from Elinor's earlier discovery, rested. He'd been so sure. Dave's had been negative; hell, every damn kid of everyone they had ever known had always been negative!

Panicked, Elinor had thrown out every idea she'd thought of within the ten days since they'd produced John at the base clinic for the test. They'd run to Canada - except Canada was in the program too, and there would be no safe place to hide. Not with the technology that could locate anyone with the gene. The voluntary blood tests were just a mask of compliance. Everyone knew that. “I know you're scared, buddy --”

“I am not!” John scowled and quickly looked at his sneakers. Scuffed, one shoe untied. They were his favorite. Blue with a yellow lightning bolt across the side.

George tried to ignore the guilty pang at manipulating his boy. John was an independent cuss. He'd always been. Here, let me help you with your shoes - no! I wanna do it myself. Let me get that bowl for you - look, Daddy, I can reach if I climb up! A lump choked him. “You'll be fine, kiddo. I know it. You'll be the best.”

~*~

“Jane, just knock it off already, will you, Christ. You'd think the boy couldn't wipe himself anymore! He'll be fine.” Rodney McKay, disgusted, turned away from his wife's tear-stained face, and narrowed his eyes on Meredith. “Well, this is it, Mer.” The big gates of Cheyenne mountain loomed in front of them. He inhaled, feeling his chest puff out slightly. How couldn't it? His son, a prodigy, his son, going to live in an alien city, in another galaxy, to do things ninety-nine percent of everyone else wouldn't be able to do, let alone see. He didn't have the gene, but he had the brains. He'd spent the past year preparing, ever since his blood tests had come back negative.

Eleven-year-old Meredith Rodney McKay was both a portrait of excitement and anxiety. His hand, still chubby with youth, trembled around the handle of his suitcase. The velor shirt and denim bell bottoms had been bought yesterday. “Why can't Jeannie come?”

“Because they won't take more than one child from a family, Mer, you know that. Jeannie's needed here, she'll marry, have kids, carry on the family line. But you --”

“Will get to learn everything,” Jeannie complained, sulking and miserable beside her mother.

Their father rolled his eyes. “Don't be so dramatic, Jean. I swear, you get that from your mother.”

“Rodney, please,” Jane said. She wiped her eyes and tucked the handkerchief into her purse. “Meredith, remember, we love you so much.” She took his face in her hands, kneeling in front of him, her plaid skirt pooling around her. There would be times when that expression on her face was the only one Meredith Rodney McKay could ever recall.

~*~

John swung his feet; the table was high and he couldn't reach the floor, but the man had told John that a check-up was part of every child's first day. Well, he'd used other words, but John wasn't sure what it all had meant. In his new room, his stuff waited. His truck, his plane collection, and Snoopy. John kind of wanted Snoopy right now. But he was ten and ten meant you didn't carry around stupid stuffed animals.

“You're new here, aren't you?”

John cracked open an eye. He'd shut them, when he'd been imagining his toys. “You've got a funny accent for an Ancient.”

The boy's eyes crinkled. “I'm not an Ancient! I'm from Scotland, you know, the Highlands and bonnie green fields?”

“Scotland?”

“Sean Connery.” At John's still-blank stare, the boy pursed his lips together and muttered, “It's always like this. Okay, how about this: James Bond.”

“You're from the same place as James Bond?” John's eyes lit up.

“Carson Beckett,” the boy said, holding out his hand. John solemnly took it, shaking as hard as he could. “What's your name?”

“John Sheppard. I just got here this morning.”

“Well it's a big city, John. But it's full of lots of things to do; I can show you around.”

Carson was wearing the two-piece cotton clothes like everyone else in the city, a contrast to John's striped T and corduroy slacks. His shoes were both tied, he'd spent almost half an hour getting it just right, so they wouldn't come undone on the trip. And he hadn't taken them off yet. He'd always struggled to get his shoes to stay tied; one day John figured he was just going to quit bothering.

An older man, Janus, John remembered, walked over and put a companionable arm around Carson's shoulders. “Now young Beckett, don't go volunteering your time. You need to study for your next exam.”

John felt a thrill of alarm shoot through. “Exam?” He had been just a couple of weeks away from starting fifth grade. He was finally going to be almost one of the 'big kids'. He'd gotten a new backpack, new supplies. Now all that was gone. Somewhere back home, his lunchbox was sitting abandoned. John hadn't even thought about school since he'd been told he was leaving. He knew a lot, but he didn't think he'd ever know enough to do anything here.

Janus turned his warm gaze on John. “And you, John Sheppard, have only just arrived.” He seemed to read John's worried thoughts. “There will be time enough for you to see the city.”

“Aye,” Carson breathed. His face had taken on a slightly apprehensive hue. “Study, right.”

Then he was gone and Janus reached for John, saying, “All right, down with you.”

But John evaded, pushed himself forward, and hopped off. He stared up at Janus. “I'm hungry.”

Janus nodded. “I am sure you are.” He held out his hand. “Well then, to eat.”

John stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Right. Come John, it's this way.”

~*~

The council meetings could drag interminably. Already they had spent hours covering city updates, population, and old business passed on from the last meeting.

Janus leaned back in his chair, wishing away the ache that was growing in the middle of his back. Any day spent with new arrivals was a long day. It was a mixed blessing that it didn't happen with much frequency. Added to the headache was the fact that someone had incorrectly assigned little John to him. The child's genetic expression was phenomenal, for a human, but his inclinations were not scientific and that was Janus' specialty. He'd finally left John with Rodney, not knowing what else to do. The other child was a prodigy, his mind was quick, and his ability to learn was nothing short of amazing - but the child lacked the genetic make-up essential for the use of most technologies in the city. There were already discussions on which systems could be altered to run by anybody, once initiated.

“Your protest is noted, Janus, but I would have thought you to be more sensitive to the child's plight.”

Janus raised his eyebrow. Moros always found a way to insult. They'd been at loggerheads from birth, it seemed. “I assure you, I am sensitive. But I am also aware of my own limitations. Melia would do better by the child.”

“I would very much like to assume guardianship,” Melia agreed. She had yet to be assigned a child and she had secretly observed John earlier in the infirmary. “He is bright, but if you have read his file, Moros, you would know he has shown a few worrying traits on his profile. Strong-willed, intelligent, but withdrawn in the interviews. He has not opened himself up to anyone since arriving. He refuses every bit of help he can get away with refusing.” She cast her eyes at the folder in front of her. “I worry that he will not have a smooth transition.”

“He will learn,” said Moros dismissively. The older gentleman ignored John's file and allowed himself to be distracted by an update on a recent skirmish with the Wraith. The enemy that had driven them to this place, where they beggared themselves to a world of descendants, just to gather all to them that they could use.

“He is a child, Moros,” Melia stressed, her chin rising. “A human child.”

“He will stay with Janus,” Moros declared, irritable. “The prodigy, Meredith, does not have the genetic ability and it is an obvious and simple solution to pair the two. It is your responsibility,” he stared at Janus, “to ensure that young Sheppard does adjust. That is all.”

~*~

“I'm older than you,” Rodney protested.

“So.” John's eyes narrowed. “I like the top bunk.”

“I was here first.”

John had his planes spilled around him, sitting Indian style on the floor. Janus had left them to go somewhere, but another adult sat across the room, scanning a panel and surreptitiously watching them over the screen. John wasn't stupid; the woman was a babysitter.

“I'm littler,” John tried. It'd always worked with Dave.

“So,” Rodney echoed John's earlier rebuttal.

If he'd been back home, John would've been pitiful, wheedling until Dave caved in and gave him what he wanted. Dave had always, well, almost always, looked out for John. Five years older, he'd told John that Dave's job was to look out for him. And now John didn't have anyone to look out for him, and he felt alone, tired, hungry - their food tasted funny and he hadn't eaten much - and he wanted the top bunk.

His pride wouldn't let him act pitiful, not with this stranger. Not that it'd be much of an act. John felt a sharp prickle behind his eyes and quickly picked up his favorite plane. A B52 replica; the plane was huge, and it'd been the first one John had gotten at an Air Show on Wright Patterson. The camo paint was scratched, the nose dented, and glimpses of silver glared through in places, but the wheels still worked.

To take his mind off his homesickness, John asked, “Why don't you use Meredith?”

Rodney's head whipped around. “Where'd you hear that name?”

John shrugged. “Janus was giving our names to somebody.”

“It's none of your business,” Rodney began, sharply, but then maybe he saw something in John's face and he softened, grudgingly, “I don't like it, okay. Rodney is my middle name and when I got here, I stopped using Meredith.”

There were times when John knew he wasn't exactly being nice, but sometimes he saw the line connecting what he wanted and how to get it. And he jumped before he could think twice about the means for doing it. “For the top bunk, I'll forget I ever heard Meredith.”

“What are you, the Godfather?”

John shrugged, holding his B52 tightly in his fist.

Rodney kept staring at him for an extra second or two, then sighed, resigned. “It's war, Little John,” he promised, retrieving his pillow and books from the top bed. “And I'm way smarter than you.”

He was starting to feel a little guilty and regretful when Rodney added under his breath, “And to think, I even felt sorry for you.” Then John just got mad.

~*~

The holo-teacher lectured, “Our race, on the verge of destruction, placed the city in slumber. Submerged, it passed the millennia, undisturbed, and we fled to our future in a Gate Ship, equipped with a time travel device created by Elder Janus. We arrived to find the Wraith still a scourge and our numbers too few to mount a decisive, ending blow.”

It blinked, paused, and the live teacher, Janus himself, beamed. “And that is where you come in.”

John sat on a couch beside one other child, a girl. Miko was her name; she was from across the world on Earth and now they were stuck next to each other across the galaxy. The universe. John wasn't exactly sure.

She was timid, but raised her hand. “Are there enough of us?” she asked, when Janus nodded for her to speak.

“Not nearly enough as we'd like,” Janus admitted honestly, “but every one of you makes a difference.”

John raised his hand.

“Yes, John?”

“What is a...a...mill-en-nia...and can I see the Gate Ship?”

~*~

Carson pushed another slice of Tava bread towards John. “Eat it, lots of nutrients.”

Rodney snorted his Kala milk. “Listen to your doctor, John, he's only two years older.”

“I'm not his doctor, Rodney, not yet at least,” Carson retorted, mildly. “But I am trying to be his friend.”

John wished the floor would scoop him up and eat him whole right now. He hated the food here. He wanted McDonald's. Or Burger King. Or Pizza Hut - why didn't they have pizza? And he hated being the center of attention and right then, Carson's words seemed to echo around them.

Miko was just two seats down, talking softly with another boy. They looked over curiously and John tried to smile. He picked up the bread and nibbled half-heartedly, trying really hard not to gag. Rodney had introduced the shorter boy as Zelenkova. His name was really Zelenka, Radek Zelenka. John had read it on the cover of a notebook sitting next to him. Then Rodney had pulled John to the table where Carson was sitting. For someone who was insisting he was at war with John, Rodney sure was dragging John everywhere. When John had pointed that out, Rodney had sniffed and said, “It's purely selfish. You're essentially my special help dog.”

John had puzzled at what essential meant, but he figured he got the idea. He was ten, not nine now. But Rodney was eleven and seemed a lot smarter than he was. Carson was twelve; he seemed smarter too. John thought about that, glaring at the bread in his hand.

~*~

Janus paused in his oral report, considering how best to phrase his next sentence. Melia had been granted permission to assume control over the relocation committee, but John had been left in his care. At this point, everyone involved in John's case, from the head physician to the head psychologist, believed that uprooting him yet again would only further deepen his risks.

“Food seems to be a hurdle that must be overcome immediately. John has lost weight and the new diet has not been a success. While he excels in his studies, he is struggling in adjusting to his new environment.”

The child, scrappy and small, had lost weight he could ill-afford. He was trying, but the food upset his stomach, and many a night Janus had taken John, stubborn and quiet, to the infirmary for treatment. They had already begun looking amongst their allies for food he could tolerate and, in the immediate time, to get supplies from home.

“He has expressed an interest in the Gate Ships; I feel this might be a direction for John, but I'm reluctant to set him on a potential course where his value might be wasted. There are so few descendants that have his innate abilities with Atlantis. It would be a terrible loss if he were killed fighting the Wraith.

“Rodney is excelling, and despite certain limitations with diet and environment, these allergies that our physicians are even now working towards curing, he has made tremendous strides. The dietary supplements have increased all of their ability to learn, to grasp, much as we expected. Chronological age remains young while their minds begin to rapidly progress past their peers.”

Janus paused yet again; this was one area he had argued against: Artificially instigating an evolutionary change that had not yet been reached by humans. He worried that someday there would be repercussions. But here, he lost, and he had little room to protest since he had out-maneuvered Moros in using the Gate Ship to bring the remnants of their civilization far into the future. He'd said saving their city, their world, and not abandoning the people of this galaxy to an awful fate, was not even a luxury, it was a moral obligation, and then Moros had said if the children did not learn quickly enough, then everything would be in vain and they would fail anyway.

It just galled that Janus' own argument had been used against him.

A bang echoed in the other room, and Janus closed the recording, forwarding it to Melia. He dimmed the lights and padded softly to the door linking his chambers to the children's. It opened, the sound from the smooth sliding motion, that normally disappeared in the background plethora of daily noises, loud and painful in the silence of the night. “John?” he called, guessing the boy had another stomachache.

The lights came on, just enough to see. Rodney hovered over the bunk, peering anxiously at John. “Janus, I think he's sick.”

“It was just dinner, Rodney,” Janus assured, getting ready to gather the little one up and bustle him off to the physician on call.

Rodney shook his head. “He's sweaty. I think he has a fever. I'm not touching him to find out, he's probably contagious.”

A fever? Janus grew concerned. That wasn't normal. Going over, he gently pulled Rodney away and placed his palm against John's forehead. The boy was burning up! “Quickly Rodney, call the infirmary, let them know we're coming. John's very sick.”

Kirsens. It had to be Kirsens. A childhood illness, very common amongst the human populations. Janus had just returned from Athos, the Tava bread having been one of the items they had recently tried. One of the children there must have had it, and it being so common, Atlantis would have ignored any contagion tied to the specific bacteria that him, and anyone else returning from trade missions, might have brought back. Janus swore, because John was not Athosian, or Atlantean; he was a Terran, and they had no idea what Kirsens would do to a human child from across the universe.

~*~

Rodney lay in his infirmary bed, tired and achy. He hadn't touched John, and yet here he was, too sick to even voice how ill he felt. Across from him, John slept on, oblivious. In fact, the room was packed with almost every child that had come to Atlantis. The doctor had explained the disease to him, and Rodney knew that a delegation had left to retrieve a cure.

Rodney knew he had changed since coming to Atlantis. He felt more 'grown-up' than ever, his mind leaping from concept to concept, and things he had only begun to vaguely consider back home, he now knew with a certainty. Yet, he was still eleven, and if an adult ever learned to control their fears...well Rodney wasn't an adult, and he was afraid. John had fallen ill first, and he hadn't woken up in a while. He told himself he was afraid because if John died, there'd be no one left who tagged along and was always there to help him with technology that refused to cooperate . There was only one person he'd ever loved, other than his parents, and that was a small, defiant girl he'd left at the gates of Cheyenne Mountain. This John was nothing but an irritation that Rodney had to endure in order to be the best he could here in this city.

Rodney folded his arms and told himself again that John didn't mean anything to him, at all, and the only reason Rodney felt anxious was because he was worried about himself. Not some idiot kid who couldn't even have enough sense to brush his hair in the morning.

He must've slept then, because a soft hand brushing across his forehead woke him.

“It's all right, Rodney,” whispered Melia.

“It is?” he asked, feeling bleary and confused.

“Yes, Charrin from Athos has brought the cure, and soon you'll feel much better.”

She smelt of salt and sun, and Rodney had never cared much for either. But now it made him want to grab her, pull her towards him, so she'd hold him from the uncertainty and fear he was feeling without even really knowing why.

She sat on the edge of his bed, grasping his hand and rubbing his arm. Rodney sighed, blinked, and rolled his head slightly to the side, to see John's bed swarmed by people he didn't recognize - and he thought, was that a little girl?

Melia followed his gaze, and smiled. “That is Teyla, she will someday be the leader of Athos. Her father sent her with Charrin. Everything she does now, will prepare her for her future.” She faced Rodney again and tucked his hand back into his blanket. “When you are well, you will be allowed to meet. Teyla should meet all of you. You children are the future.”

“She's dressed funny,” Rodney mumbled.

“She is Athosian,” Melia chided, “you will find many different types of people out there. It is a big galaxy, and an even bigger universe.”

A fitful cry from his side caused Rodney's heart to speed up. “John?” he asked.

Melia smiled sadly. “He is very ill, Rodney, but I do not believe his fate is to die in bed at a young age.”

Rodney wanted to say fate was stupid. There was no such thing. But his eyes had grown too heavy, and he fell asleep, listening to a distraught John suffer beside him.

~*~

John had never been sick like this before. He'd had upset stomaches, even thrown up a few times. He'd had colds and earaches. But this felt like he was dying, and a part of him just wished it happen and be done, because he felt so horrible. It couldn't be possible to be this hot without being on fire. He had his eyes closed, he didn't think he could open them, and he couldn't stop moving; short, jerky movements of his legs and arms, his head, side to side, as if to escape the misery he felt. And he didn't even know why he was so sick.

He was awake, but wanted more than anything not to be.

“This is Kirsens?” a soft, young feminine voice asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, Teyla.”

“Why is he so ill?”

“He is not from our world. Where he was born, Kirsens does not exist. He has no natural resistance. Quickly child, the bag.”

For a while the sounds and voices bled into a cacophony of noise John couldn't understand, then one singled out, one close to him. “We will help you, John Sheppard. You will be well again, I promise.” A light kiss against his forehead. “I am Teyla of Athos, and my word is my life.”

~*~

John did recover, as Teyla had promised. By the time he had returned to coherence, she was gone. Rodney had described her when John had pressed. He'd insisted he was only humoring John until he was out of bed. The doctor said they'd be confined for a few more days, to rest, regain their strength, and John did feel weak. Like his bones had been turned to water and his muscles had just dissolved into nothingness. It made him frustrated because he longed to see the Gate Ship. Janus had told him he'd see if John could, but then he'd gotten sick, and now the tantalizing prize remained out of reach.

“You play chess?” Rodney asked.

“Yeah,” John said. “My brother taught me.”

Before he'd barely finished, Rodney was plopping himself on John's bed and opening a box. “I'm white, you're black.”

“That's not fair. White always gets to go first.”

“Like it'd matter?” Rodney made a face. “You're going to lose, accept it, but just maybe you can learn something from our game.”

“I always beat Dave.”

“That's because he always let you.”

John's forehead scrunched up and he wondered just how true that was. For being five years older than John, Dave had lost a lot in all their games. “Well if you're so sure you'll beat me, why not play with Radek, or Carson?”

Rodney stared at him, his hand poised over placing the white king. “Because you're here, and they're not. Everyone else has recovered.”

“Oh.”

“That's not to say I'm over the bunk thing, because I'm not.”

John nodded, scooping a handful of black pawns from the box. “Right. You've conceded a battle, but the war is still on.” His father had always used 'conceded a battle' when talking with friends over military stuff.

“Exactly,” Rodney breathed, delighted.

~*~

Janus watched across the room as the boys ate lunch. The food from Earth was having the desired effect. John was eating more, regaining weight and strength. Kirsens had struck while the child had been weak, his nutrition poor, and had almost taken John's life.

He'd assumed guardianship of John reluctantly, yet now he found himself oddly proud. The two boys, Rodney and John, were extraordinary, in different ways. Rodney was, by far, the most brilliant human child to come to Atlantis. And John, while also very smart, was amazing in his tenacity and curiosity. And his ability to communicate with Atlantis was nothing short of amazing for a human. Maybe Moros had been correct, for once. Janus supposed at some point Moros was bound to get it right, just based off the law of averages.

John was still adapting though, and not as easily as Rodney. Rodney came from a home with less than ideal parenting, from what little Janus had pieced together, and while he did miss his family, the environment was such that Rodney's periodic bouts of homesickness were few and far between. John was slow to trust, slow to allow anyone in, though he seemed to be allowing Rodney, whether he realized it or not.

“They are a delightful pair,” Melia observed quietly, slipping into the chair beside him.

“I will admit to enjoying their presence more and more,” Janus mused.

“It was a disruption, taking on children, but I think it has been good for our people, Janus. It has breathed new life into our stale existences. Thank goodness they weathered Kirsens; our physicians are developing a regime to inoculate them against further known risks.”

“They are still too pale.” Janus took a bite of this thing the Terrans called pizza. It was surprisingly delicious, for such an odd combination of foods. “I have been debating on whether it is time to take them out of the city.”

Melia studied the boys, nodding; her mouth curved with humor. “Teyla would probably enjoy meeting them again, now that they can stand.”

~*~

John found himself staring up at Janus, feeling oddly bereft. “Why can't you come?”

“I have important work here, John. I'm very sorry, but Astras will take good care of you.” Janus fought against the urge to ruffle his hand through John's hair. The boy was accepting him, but Janus knew if he moved too fast with this child, it'd be all over before he'd barely begun. “And when you two get back, you can tell me all about it.”

Rodney looked at the oval ship, his eyes already stripping the aesthetic to get to the inner workings. “It flies?”

“Yes, Rodney, it flies,” Janus smiled.

“Can I fly it?” John piped up.

“Maybe when you're a little older.”

Uh-oh. Janus knew he'd said the wrong thing the moment the words left his lips and John's childish features darkened. He recognized the glint in John's eyes. And when John said, defiantly, “I'm old enough to leave home, old enough to learn how to use stuff in Atlantis, why is this different?”

Janus knelt in front of John, tipped his chin up with a gentle finger. “Because if you were to crash, or have any problems, you would not know enough to save yourself, and you are far too precious to risk carelessly.” And I find myself selfishly wishing danger might never find you, any of you, in a galaxy where danger stalks a step behind us all, Janus thought wearily.

“You wouldn't even reach the pedals,” Rodney retorted.

John glared at Rodney. “There aren't any pedals. It's not a bicycle.”

“How do you know there aren't pedals? You haven't been inside yet.”

“Boys, please,” Janus interrupted. “Now, hurry in, listen to Astras. And I believe young Beckett will be going with you as well, he's already in there, to take lessons from Charrin. Be good and I want a full report when you return!”

Before he could change his mind, or go with them, Janus shooed them through the rear hatch, watching with a resigned expression as John exulted over the lack of pedals and Rodney argued that the flight controls were the pedals, just in a different location...and then it was closing, and the ship was lifting gracefully, dropping through the bay.

~*~

Teyla sat beside her father, beaming at John and Rodney, though she was not fully aware she was doing so. Charrin's cure had worked; of course it had; Charrin was the best healer in all the worlds Teyla knew. The tent was smoky, heady with the scents from many pipes and dishes. It was a welcoming feast, a celebration of the agreement between their people and the Ancestors.

Ancestors! Teyla still had a difficult time believing they were real, they were here, though she did not quite understand how. Stories had told how they had left, long, long ago. What brought them back, and why now?

“Teyla, would you like to sit with the Ancestor's children?” Tagan asked, leaning close to whisper near her ear so she could hear over the singing and merrymaking.

“They are not really the Ancestors, are they, Father?”

“Perhaps not by body, but by spirit. And the little one keeps looking to you.”

“He's not so little, he's just...”

“Someday he will be tall and strong,” Tagan agreed, “but for today, he is little.” Her father grinned broadly and hugged her close. “And so are you. Now go, be with the others, I can see the desire in your eyes!”

~*~

Rodney followed Teyla and John, hopping over mud puddles that John jumped in. They'd left the feast to go walking about, but Rodney found himself longing to be back inside the warm tent instead of outside in the chilled, damp air. Still, he wasn't about to let John do more than he, seeing how he was older. Carson had retreated to Charrin's tent from the moment the Gate Ship had touched the ground outside the village.

Distracted, Rodney was surprised and confused when he wound up splayed on the ground, muddy water soaking into the loose cotton trousers that had become the staple of his clothing in Atlantis. “What --”

“Watch where you're going,” grunted someone from above.

Rodney looked up, surprised to see a tall boy glaring down at him. “You knocked me down, you watch where you're going!”

“Ronon,” Teyla remonstrated, placing a hand on the tall boy's arm.

He scowled, shrugged his shoulders, and stalked away.

“What's he so mad about?” John asked, his eyes following the boy's progress across the village. John was excited to be exploring an alien world. For today, he forgot about Dave, about the crummy food - of course, the food from home helped that one --

Teyla looked troubled, staring after Ronon. “His world was culled; few of his people survived.”

“Culled?” Rodney repeated.

“By the Wraith.”

John frowned. Wraith - that word had been in their history lessons. Rodney remembered reading about the heroics of another Terran child that had been brought to Atlantis and how he'd died fighting the Wraith; Jack O'Neill lost, along with everyone on his battleship, in a fight over the skies of a world with people that had called themselves the Genii.

“Have you ever seen one?” asked Rodney, curiously. He accepted John's hand up and brushed at his pants, disgusted. He'd have to spend the rest of the trip with filthy clothes and he'd probably catch some other alien virus.

Shaking her head solemnly, Teyla replied, “No. My world was last culled when I was a baby. I do not remember it.” She glanced back at John and Rodney, pushing Ronon from her thoughts. “I have something I wish to show you.”

~*~

It caught his attention while Teyla described the cave pictures. A glint in the torchlight, and John lifted it from the dirt, wondering what it was. Teyla and Rodney looked at him and she gasped. “My necklace!” He held it out to her and was pleased at the delight on her face. “I have not seen this in weeks; I thought it lost forever.”

“It's just a necklace,” Rodney said.

Teyla held it close and said breathlessly, “It was my mother's.”

~*~

They emerged to wails, and Teyla paled in the setting sunlight. John demanded, “What's happening?” The forest was alive with cries and fire and John suddenly felt very confused and frightened, and that did nothing more than serve to light a fire of anger in his own belly. Coming to Athos had been the most fun he'd had since leaving home and something very bad was taking it all away.

“Wraith,” Teyla whispered, as if in pain. Her eyes were clenched shut, her hand fisted around the necklace. “We must find Father.”

“We need to find Astras,” Rodney countered. “The Gate Ship has a cloak, John, it can hide us!”

Teyla opened her eyes and, though it was dark, John was sure he could see the burning in them. “I will not hide.”

“That's suicide,” Rodney scoffed; part desperation, part irritation. “They'll kill us. What can we do to make a difference? We're just kids.”

“Weren't we brought to Atlantis because we're not 'just kids'?” John said, quickly. “I know we've changed, even in the short time we've been there. You can't tell me you haven't noticed it, Mr. Genius.”

“Well, I --”

The bushes shook, and the snapping of limbs drew their attention behind them.

“You make more noise than a rampaging Kala,” grumped a voice that John recognized. Ronon.

“I'm sorry, but I'm training to be a doctor, not some bloody amazon warrior!”

Carson. John breathed, turning to Teyla, “It's all right, Carson's with us.”

“I know that,” Teyla said frostily. “I am not stupid.”

“I never said you were,” John protested. Then he glared. He knew there was a reason why he still didn't like girls. But he'd thought there for a time Teyla would be the exception.

Ronon and Carson broke through the brush and onto the path, drawing up at the sight of the three. Carson's face broke with relief while Ronon just looked annoyed. “Oh thank God,” Carson said. “Astras is dead, half the village is fleeing, the other half...they...they disappeared in these beams of light...”

“A culling beam,” Teyla supplied.

John looked at Rodney and Rodney looked at John. “The Gate Ship,” they both said.

And this time, Teyla didn't argue.

~*~

“We should just sit here and wait,” Rodney argued.

“What if they find us?” John sat in the pilot's chair. His feet didn't even reach the ground. If he sat all the way forward, he could reach the controls. When he'd first touched the panel, the ship had powered up. Rodney had told him to cloak the ship and John could only hope he'd managed it by thinking 'cloak' but since Rodney had to explain what 'cloak the ship' meant in the first place, John wasn't feeling very sure of anything.

“What if they don't?” Rodney countered.

“If they do, I don't think we'll live.”

“If we don't, I don't think we'll live.”

Ronon growled, “Is that all you two do? Argue?” He jerked his head at John. “I agree with him, we should do something.”

“I'm John,” he said, extending his hand because that's what grown ups did, right? “John Sheppard. This is Rodney McKay, and Carson --”

“Beckett,” Ronon finished. “I know, we met.”

“Aye, he dragged me into the woods, he did. Met my --”

“Carson,” Rodney snapped.

“All those in favor of trying to help the others, say aye.” John had watched plenty of TV back home to know how these things were done. And when he was scared, he was mad, and being mad made him want to do something because being powerless was the worst feeling in the world.

“Aye,” chorused Ronon and Teyla.

“Those against?”

Rodney raised his hand and hissed, “It's opposed, moron, if you're going to get us all killed at least improve your vocabulary.”

“I'm ten, my vocabulary is...is...” John dredged the depths of his memory. “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious .” Ha, take that, Rodney Genius McKay.

“Carson, you're the swing vote,” Rodney ignored John.

The Scott boy's eyebrow rose and he asked tremulously, “Can I abstain on the grounds of nothing prepared me for this and I have no idea which is the better thing to do?”

“No,” they all shouted.

Carson wilted and muttered, “Fine, then if we die I hope you're all bloody happy. I vote we do something to help.”

~*~

They left the Gate Ship. Ronon had a weapon he'd been given from his father, one that when John asked, “What does it do?” Ronon had said simply, “Kill,” and John guessed when it came to these things called Wraith, that was good enough. They skulked through the forest, Teyla guiding them deftly toward her home - or what would be left of it.

For the amount of wreckage and ruin, John shivered at the lack of bodies. He knew the Wraith fed on humans. Ate them, though he'd never seen it or a Wraith before. Tents burned. Survivors cried. As they cautiously broke through the trees, Charrin came running. “Teyla,” she cried, “Oh, my Teyla! Tagan was so certain you had been taken.”

“I am fine,” Teyla said. “We hid out in the Ancestor's Gate Ship.”

But Charrin's face did not lighten; if anything, it grew sadder. “Child, your father --”

She was already running, her hair streaming behind her, “Father,” cried from her lips.

John, Rodney, Carson and Ronon trailed, following her into a tent that was barely standing. On the ground, amidst a pallet of furs, lay the once vibrant Tagan and John swallowed against the shock of seeing a man, an adult, a leader, reduced to the shaking, dying body struggling to speak to his daughter.

He grabbed Teyla's tunic, his hand filthy with blood and dirt. She took his head in her lap. “Father,” she repeated, trembling.

“They took...Halling...” Tagan grunted against a wave of pain. “Jinto...and others.” He gasped, blinked, shuddered. “Teyla!” he called, desperately. “It is...time.” His hand lifted to her face, cupping her cheek, though his eyes seemed to stare beyond her. “My daughter,” he choked. And then he died.

The tent was quiet, though the village was alive with horrible sounds.

For moments, Teyla stayed still.

Then, her face grieving, her cheek streaked with the same dirty blood still on her father's hands, she turned and begged them, “Will you not help me, John? Will you not help me find my people?”

~*~

“We should go back and get help,” Rodney argued.

Ronon thrust a weapon in his hand; it was almost as tall as he was.

“Not enough time,” John said flatly. “You said you could probably get the address from the Gate Controls.” These words still felt foreign to John, but he was learning fast. “If you're not smart enough, just admit --”

“I can get the address,” Rodney snapped, “I just feel that a group of kids are bound to fail on a rescue mission, going up against a race of monsters that eat us as an appetizer!”

Ronon thrust another weapon into John's hand, pointed at the controls. “It's a stunner only, it won't kill, but it'll stop them.”

John almost tipped over. Ronon rolled his eyes and turned to Carson.

“Oh no you don't,” he held his hands up and backed away, “I'm not going to pretend I'm a...a...whatever.”

“Kull warrior,” Ronon sniffed, and slapped a helmet into Carson's mid-section, “and yes you are.”

“We'll look ridiculous,” Rodney pointed out, slipping into the reeking clothes scavenged from the dead. God he was going to puke.

“All we need, Rodney, is for them to pause. Then we'll shoot first and move on until we find them. You said that the machine the Gate Ship gave us will help. We can do this.” John squeezed Rodney's shoulder while he pored over the controls. Then felt awkward and stepped back, letting his hand drop. Well, they always did it in the movies.

Rodney craned his head around and studied John. “You're really good at this stuff, aren't you?”

John shrugged. “My dad was military. Is military.”

Teyla sat on the ground, holding her necklace tight. John glanced at Carson and raised his eyebrow. He obviously wasn't any good with girls so why didn't Carson go comfort her? Someone should, that he was sure of. He was relieved when Ronon dropped down beside her and pulled her close, murmuring softly.

~*~

The Wraith ship was huge. John crept in, behind Ronon, and felt a sharp pang of doubt. How would they ever find a few survivors in this massive, cavernous place? Without being captured and eaten themselves?

“We're dead,” Rodney moaned behind him.

John almost agreed.

He held the device tightly and as they wound through the corridors, working their way towards a mass of huddled signals, John began to realize maybe it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. The other signals were spread out through the ship and were not as many as one would think considering a ship of this size.

It was like walking in a cocoon; beside them, the walls seemed to live, breathe. Once, the temptation to touch proved too much, and he ran his fingers lightly against the leathery wall. It felt awful, slimy and dry at the same time. John shuddered and rushed to catch up with Ronon.

“I can't believe it,” Rodney enthused, “it's like this ship is actually alive!”

“Quiet,” Teyla hissed.

“What? It's not like they're going to hear us.” Rodney and Teyla were side by side, walking behind Ronon and John. Carson was in the middle, looking very much like he'd rather be anywhere else. John was kind of feeling the same, but then he glimpsed the raw pain and resolve on Teyla's face and realized that maybe some things were worth the risks. Even at ten years old.

Rodney squinted into the gloom. “Do they even have ears?”

~*~

“Halling?” Teyla edged up to the cell, glancing uneasily at the dark depths of corridors leading to the right and left of them. “Jinto? It's Teyla.”

“Teyla?” Halling's deep baritone rumbled from the shadows. “What are you doing here?” His face slid into the scant light provided by their mag lights. “You shouldn't be here, Teyla, it is too dangerous.” His eyes were round and full of censure. “You are just children.”

Teyla bristled. “Tagan has passed and I am the leader of our people now. It is my duty to keep my people safe.”

Halling grasped the twisted, living bars, pressing his face forward between them. “But what if you die? Does it serve for our leader to die so soon after her father?”

Ronon jerked a broad knife from his boot and thrust it into the wall; the door slid open. “We're here, get over it.”

“Where are the others?” Teyla searched the area behind Halling. “Jinto?”

“They are all dead...you have risked everything for nothing.” Halling looked broken. “I am not worth your life!”

Teyla placed her hand over his and shook her head. “You are one of my people; I would give my life for you.”

John had been keeping watch over the device, and as soon as Ronon had pierced the wall with his knife, four signals had begun to work towards them. Rapidly. It was only when they were too far to turn back that he understood the grouping of signals on the device. The 'mass' was only one human, surrounded by Wraith. John tightened his nervous hands on the stunner. “We've got trouble,” he warned.

Ronon peered over his shoulder and gave a feral grin. “No,” he retorted, “they've got trouble.” He pressed himself up against the wall and gestured at the others to follow suit. “I wasn't allowed to fight when they destroyed my world, but no one's going to stop me now.”

~*~

When they came, there was no time for thought. Rodney had never used a weapon before in his life, but he found out that necessity really is the mother of invention -- or whatever, because he started pointing it at the wraith running at them and shooting and he was almost positive he had his eyes open for most of it.

One lunged for Carson and Ronon blasted it; the monster fell soundlessly at their feet.

“I'm gonna faint,” Carson said, strangled. “Aye, I'm definitely going to faint.”

“Me first,” Rodney seconded. “You're the doctor, you can take care of me when I hit my head on the way down.”

“Rodney, look out!” John shouted.

A whine, and John leaped in front of him; a beam spread out across John's body like liquid light and he dropped like a stone. Ronon's gun exploded the area into a red haze. Halling lifted John effortlessly and barked, “Leave, now!”

“Is he dead?” Rodney shouted, hurrying after Halling, dread brewing icicles in his belly. “If he's dead, I'm so killing him!”

“He is merely stunned,” Halling called, never breaking stride, “but we all will be dead if you do not run!”

They made it without stumbling into any other patrols, which was sheer luck, seeing how the only one who could operate the technology was unconscious. When they tumbled into the Gate Ship, only able to gain entrance and nothing else, Rodney realized the flaw in John's plan. Without him, they were stuck.

Halling placed John carefully on the bench, the man a giant next to John. He waved Teyla over. She was digging at her neck, frantic. “My necklace,” she said, upset. “I must have lost it in the escape.”

“Teyla, please, this boy needs our help.”

She dropped her hand and nodded wordlessly; she slid onto the bench and gently lifted John's head, pillowing it on her lap as Halling instructed. Carson joined them, murmuring that he was in training to be a physician, and quickly began peppering them about the stunner and what it does while doing medical things to John.

Rodney slumped into a chair in the front. He pressed his hands against his eyes and swore it was just allergies.

“You did good, McKay.” Ronon leaned against the wall behind him, wiping his blaster. Like Star Wars. Rodney bit down a hysterical laugh.

“What, you're like thirteen? This is insane. I'm eleven, I should be sneaking my Dad's playboys and watching movies, not living them.” Not that he'd ever done any of those things...

“There aren't a lot of childhoods around here. The Wraith make sure of that.”

Yeah, Rodney thought, he was beginning to understand. He just hadn't expected to lose his childhood, too.

~*~

John woke to Rodney staring at him, his face mere inches away. “What happened?” he asked, groggily.

“You saved my life.”

With Teyla's help, John pushed himself up, leaning against the bulkhead for support. He narrowed his eyes at Rodney. “Don't sound so broken up about it,” he replied, gruffly.

“We were at war, remember? Saving your enemies' life negates that; done, poof, war over, in one fell swoop. You win.” Rodney sulked across from John. “I don't know how you keep stumbling into luck like that.”

Carson checked John's pulse, acting very doctor-ly.

Ronon grimaced at Rodney and said, “It was just a stunner.”

“It probably would've killed me. I have a bad heart, you know.”

“You're eleven, Rodney,” John retorted, exasperated, “how bad can it be?”

He was fighting off the pins and needles coursing through his arms and legs; he'd get up and walk in a minute, but first John had to let the spinning stop. Halling was sitting in the corner, one knee drawn up, his eyes focused on them but withdrawn. John looked away.

“I...I get palpitations, okay?” Rodney shrugged lower on the bench. “It can be very scary.” He slid his attention to Carson, a light dawning, “You're going to be our doctor soon enough, you should take notes.”

“We should get out of here,” Ronon interrupted. “We've been lucky they haven't found us yet.”

“Lucky we left it cloaked,” John agreed. He stood, wavered. “Whoa.”

“Easy,” Carson cautioned, taking his arm. “Just take it slow.”

John laughed. When they looked at him curiously, he gestured at himself. “For once being small is a good thing. If I fall, it's not that far to the floor.”

~*~

A day later they were back on Atlantis; Teyla and Ronon were back on Athos, along with the rest of the survivors, but they wouldn't be there long. The Athosians would be relocating, with the help of the Ancients. John and Rodney had received the blistering of their lives from Janus, but oddly enough, not from Moros; he'd gazed at them speculatively and said that perhaps the younglings were advancing even quicker than they had foreseen. It was then that John had learned he'd begin training on the Gate Ships, though John wasn't sure what training they meant. It had been so easy to fly. He simply thought of what he needed, and it did it. It'd felt like the most amazing thing he'd ever experienced in his life.

He sat on the floor in his room, his toy planes spread out around him - the same planes that had once brought him so much happiness, but now the luster was gone.

Rodney burst in, “Mail's arrived. Come on, there's something for everyone and I've heard there's a new kid too.”

“Who?”

“Lorne something...” Rodney shrugged. “He's going to be living with Melia so we'll see him.”

John nodded. It hadn't been even two months since he'd left home, and yet he felt like he'd been here forever. “John, today,” Rodney prodded, impatiently.

He was only ten years old, but he felt at least twice as much. Maybe three times. He hadn't wanted to come here. And he still wasn't sure he would have, even knowing what he knew now. But he had, and he did, and John knew that he was already too changed to ever go back and be the same scared kid that had arrived on Atlantis. He'd flown a Gate Ship and rescued a man, and he'd gone with a survivor of a dead world and a leader of another people.

He looked down at the floor, at his planes. Toys. They were just toys.

John lifted the B52 and placed it in a bag.

~*~