Fic: A Rush and a Push and the Land Is Ours 1/3
Wow, I am nervous about posting this. But rather than repeatedly fussing with little details and not doing my, y'know, job, I'm just going to...do it.
So here's my longest solo SGA fic to date. *bites nails*
Title: A Rush and a Push and the Land Is Ours
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Category: AU
Length: ~25,000 words
Summary: Rodney had always figured himself for a man born in the wrong era.
A/N: For reel_sga, based on The Searchers. Many thanks to amireal, cathexys, fairestcat, and randomeliza for their help and suggestions.
A Rush and a Push and the Land Is Ours
Rodney had always figured himself for a man born in the wrong era. He’d read everything there was to read about the Ancestors, but no amount of reading could make him walk among them or live in their enlightened age. No amount of learning could change the nature of his birth, either, but Aunt Elizabeth’s protection had enabled him to twice see the Ancient City, lit up and glowing, and almost as beautiful as the stories. He’d been twelve years old the last time he’d seen it. That had been before the war.
The war was over now, though-or that one was at least-and Rodney knew that if he just worked hard enough, just did enough to square with Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Nick, then he might one day soon be able to go back. He was still Lantean, no matter what he’d been born to; and no matter what had happened between the Lanteans and the Terrans, it was still his city, his destiny.
He had a book. It was only children’s stories, but it was written in Ancient, which he had almost taught himself to read. He was out back in the cemetery, reading to Teyla, when he heard the sound of a rider approaching. Teyla sprang to her feet. Kate had done her younger sister’s hair in braids that morning, but they loosened as Teyla moved, the hair curling down her back. “It might be from town!” she said, “it might be a letter!” Rodney made grumbling noises, but he was curious, too. He got up and followed her toward the house.
They reached the yard just in time to see Aunt Elizabeth come outside, her hands falling away from her apron, letting it and the fabric of her skirts drop into the dust. Her fingers rose to her mouth as if she were using them to muffle a word, but Rodney heard nothing, not even a breath, until Uncle Nick came around from the barn and said, “John?” Rodney’s eyes snapped away from the approaching figure and turned toward his uncle, sharply. He’d hardly ever seen Nick speak even a syllable of surprise.
It had been a long time since any of them had seen Uncle John-not since before the end of the war-but Rodney didn’t see why that had everyone all shocked; who wouldn’t jump at the chance to go to places more exciting than Athos? Yet Kate was throwing down her mixing bowl, and Chuck was tossing away his firewood, both of them rushing out into the yard like it was the Ancestors who were arriving and not Uncle John. Even Teyla, who could scarcely be old enough to remember him, was bouncing up and down, vibrating with excitement. Rodney watched them all, awkward and out of place, unsure where to stand.
Uncle John rode into the yard and sat his horse. He wasn’t wearing a hat, but a shadow still fell over his eyes. There was a long silence that even Rodney couldn’t bring himself to break. Then Uncle John inclined his head, as if tipping the hat that wasn’t there, and spoke in the slow drawl that Rodney remembered better than his mother’s voice. “Hello, Nick...”
Uncle Nick didn’t say anything. Rodney wouldn’t have cared if he had, because even through the shadows he’d seen Uncle John’s eyes shift: he was staring down at Aunt Elizabeth, and she was staring up at him. There was something queer to that stare. Rodney wanted to look around and see if Kate had noticed it, but he couldn’t seem to break his eyes away from Uncle John’s face.
“Elizabeth,” John said.
“Hello, John,” she answered.
Uncle John swung slowly but gracefully out of the saddle. He was a lot smaller than Rodney had remembered him. He was tall, yes, but his shoulders and hips were slim. Also, Rodney had grown.
Uncle Nick stepped forward, wiping his hands on his pants. “How’s the Cloister?” he asked.
“How should I know?”
“Eldon said-”
Uncle John snorted. “I see you’re still getting your information from reliable sources.”
Rodney blinked, surprised. Nobody talked to Uncle Nick like that-Rodney knew from experience. And if they did, Nick certainly didn’t take it with nothing more than a slanting twist of lips.
Uncle Nick also usually helped guests to tend to their horses. Now, though, he just stood back and watched.
Chuck was stepping forward, his hands (and his hair) a little more polished thanks to the water trough. He smiled up at Uncle John, nervously. John watched him out of the corner of his eye. “You must be Chuck,” he said, and the little curve of an approving grin that Rodney saw his brother receive made his heart skip. No wonder Kate was walking further away from the cool shadow of the house, skin flushed from more than just the sun.
But Uncle John’s eye was caught by Teyla first. He frowned-not in anger, but in puzzlement. “Kate? You’re not much bigger than the last time I saw you.”
Teyla smiled, an expression that could almost match John’s when used to its full effect: countless were the times that smile had gotten Rodney to put aside his studies and go riding with her, or even play one of the complicated games she invented. “I’m Teyla,” she said. And pointing to her sister, “She’s Kate.”
“Uncle John,” Kate said, and blushed.
“Kate has a beau,” Teyla supplied helpfully, the very picture of eleven-year-old innocence.
“Mother!” said Kate.
“Girls.” Aunt Elizabeth finally pulled her gaze away from Uncle John. “Go inside and set the table. Charles, finish bringing that wood in. Rodney...”
Rodney knew what to do without being told, and appreciated the order remaining unsaid. He snatched Uncle John’s horse’s bridle and started to lead her away.
A hand closed roughly on his arm and jerked him around. “Hey!” Rodney exclaimed, pulling the limb back, offended. He wanted to say something else-complain about what such rough treatment was surely doing to his already taxed muscles, maybe-but the cold look of hatred in Uncle John’s eyes stopped him short. “John!” Aunt Elizabeth said quickly, stepping forward, even as Uncle Nick shook his head and turned away. “This is Rodney. Don’t you remember Rodney?”
Uncle John blinked and stepped back, but Rodney could still see the ghost of the initial reaction on John’s face, like the image of the sun stayed behind your eyes if you stared too long. Uncle John’s lips quirked up into something that was not quite a smile. “Mistook you for a half-breed,” he said, and beside him, Aunt Elizabeth laughed, as if it were a joke.
Rodney fought to keep his face blank. Sensing that it was a losing battle, he then fought to do one better: with mocking in his tone, wonder at Uncle John’s utter idiocy, “I’m a quarter Genii,” he admitted. “Rest is Athosian. Manarian, too. Which makes me Lantean,” he explained, as if to a small child, caught asking stupid questions. And Rodney almost wanted Uncle John to press it, to make Rodney explain it further, in detail. His version of their galaxy’s history, on which, if he had his way, their future would be built.
But Uncle John just shook his head and remarked, “You’ve done a lot of growing. Didn’t use to talk so much, either.”
Rodney hadn’t seen Uncle Nick turn back around, but suddenly he was using this comment (with which Rodney was sure Nick would usually agree) to step in between Uncle John and Aunt Elizabeth. “It was John who found you after your parents were taken,” Nick said, sliding the bridle out of Rodney’s hand. “Heard the crying and went back for you.”
Rodney had heard this story many times before. From the look of him, it had been told much too often for Uncle John’s liking. “My brother exaggerates,” John said, concentrating on unlacing his pack from his horse’s side. “It only happened to be me. I was just there.” He gave the horse’s flank a rough pat and turned abruptly toward the house. Aunt Elizabeth followed after him, her skirts floating gently above the ground.
Rodney glanced back at Uncle Nick. He wanted an explanation, but all he got was a slight nod of Nick’s head. They were all so damn quiet; that was how Rodney knew, sometimes, that they weren’t really his people.
“Go wash up,” Uncle Nick said. He turned and led the horse away, into the setting sun.
Rodney jolted awake, the book he’d stayed up far too late reading (Chuck complaining endlessly about the flickering candlelight, then finally rolling over in disgust and settling into a low snore) clattering to the floor. He heard knocking and loud voices and the sound of someone pulling back the bar, then Uncle Nick and Aunt Elizabeth speaking, lower but still rapid, worried. Chuck slid out of his bunk and down to the floor. “What is it?” he asked from his crouch. “Should I get my gun?”
“Shh!” Rodney hissed. What was with everyone, always wanting to go off half-cocked? “Listen.”
The voices had lowered to a more civilized volume, but everyone had stopped talking at once, which made what was being said easier to distinguish. “Sorry to get you all out of bed so early,” said a gruff voice, and Rodney quieted Chuck’s enthusiastic whisper of “Captain Caldwell!” with an annoyed wave of his hand.
“That’s all right, Captain,” said Aunt Elizabeth. “Radek, Aiden, sit down. Eldon, you can have the rocking chair.” There was the sound of movement: coffee being fetched. “Captain, do you have time...?” Pouring. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ll let Radek here explain it,” Caldwell said. Chuck, in turn, had to stop Rodney from racing out into the parlor and revealing that they’d been eavesdropping. In Rodney's opinion, Radek Zelenka was one of the only men, on this planet or any neighboring, who was at all worth listening to.
“Mister Sheppard,” Radek said, “you were there when I found that device, buried out behind our house?” Rodney assumed Uncle Nick nodded-it had been him, after all, who had kept Rodney away from the site for days. Then Aunt Elizabeth had pulled her husband aside, and Rodney suddenly found himself allowed to assist Radek, Aiden in exchange taking over Rodney’s duties on the ranch. Kate was still grateful to him for that.
Radek continued: “Well, then you remember what I theorized at the time, that it was detection device. And even though your-even though Rodney and I were not able to make it work then, this morning I come out to check on the krávy and I find it has just...switched on.”
“That’s impossible!” Rodney declared. It was only after Chuck put his head in his hands that Rodney realized how loud he’d been.
“Rodney, get out here!” Uncle Nick called, and Rodney came, face flushed. Captain Caldwell was sitting at the table, chuckling despite the grave lines ingrained in his face. Radek was sitting across from him with Uncle Nick and Aunt Elizabeth hovering nervously at his side. Eldon was by the fire, lost in his own world, and Aiden had disappeared somewhere, which was good-one less person to witness his humiliation. Still, “It is impossible,” he said firmly. “Radek, we agreed-”
Radek shrugged, his hands clasped tightly around a cup of coffee; ignoring Uncle Nick’s disapproving look, Rodney went and poured himself his own cup. “Something must have happened to recharge its power,” Radek said. “Perhaps that lightning strike last week-”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Oh, please-” he started, but Uncle Nick said his name sharply. “Radek has years of experience with this kind of technology,” Nick cautioned. “You’re just a boy...”
Captain Caldwell glanced up. “How old is he, Nick?”
Uncle Nick paused with his mouth slightly agape. Rodney took advantage of the opening. “I’m twenty,” he said, firmly. After a moment, he added, “Sir.”
“Good,” said Caldwell, slapping his hands on the table and standing. “Then Rodney, Nick: raise your right hands-”
“Captain,” Uncle Nick said, the word underlined by a hint of a question, by an inkling of anger. Rodney wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard Aunt Elizabeth suck in a sharp breath.
“Nick,” said Caldwell, and it was like a battle to see who could say the most by saying the least of all. “Boy’s old enough, and if Radek’s right and the Wraith are on Athos, then we’re gonna need all the hands we can get.”
“I’ll come!” said Teyla, bounding out of the girls’ bedroom. “I’ll fight the Wraith!”
“Me, too!” said Chuck. He came out carrying the small saber Uncle John had given him the night before, as if to make up for the fact that his younger sister had volunteered first.
Caldwell was already shaking his head, but Aunt Elizabeth silenced him by stepping forward and taking first Teyla and then Chuck into her arms. “I need you both here,” she explained. “You’ll stay and protect me while your father and brother are away?”
Teyla nodded, her braids bouncing. “Yes, mamma,” Chuck said.
Aunt Elizabeth hugged them close. Rodney looked away.
Uncle Nick touched his shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “Raise your right hand, Rodney.”
Rodney lifted his fingers, concentrating on holding them steady. He didn’t look at Radek, staring at the table, or at the soft movements of Aunt Elizabeth’s skirts. He stared straight at Caldwell’s face as the Captain solemnly intoned, “You are hereby volunteer privates in Company A of the Athos Rangers and will faithfully discharge the duties of same without recompense or monetary compensation, but with the blessing and good will of the Ancestors. Nod your head, son.”
Rodney nodded.
From behind him came the sound of laughter. “Started sending boys to do men’s jobs, have you, Captain?”
Rodney’s back stiffened. How long had Uncle John been standing there? He looked to Aunt Elizabeth, but her face didn’t carry any answers. Just another queer look, one that made Uncle Nick’s eyes narrow and Eldon rock his chair and chuckle.
“Very impressive,” Uncle John continued, his eyes on Caldwell. He poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal brother,” said Caldwell, dryly. “When’d you get back?”
After a moment, Rodney realized that Uncle John wasn’t even going to bother answering. Instead he sipped his coffee and smiled a smile that almost made Eldon look sane.
Caldwell continued, seemingly unfazed. “Haven’t seen you since the surrender,” he said, casual, conversational. “Come to think of it, I didn’t see you at the surrender.”
“I don’t believe in surrenders,” Uncle John said. He finished off the coffee in one big gulp and set the cup aside, the metal ringing loudly against the wood.
“John,” said Aunt Elizabeth, stroking her hand through Teyla’s hair. “Radek thinks there might be Wraith...”
“I heard.” Uncle John swiveled his gaze to Uncle Nick.
“John, I’m counting on you to look after things while Rodney and I are away,” Uncle Nick said. Every trace of flippancy was gone from his voice. Rodney swallowed, his throat dry and bitter from the coffee.
“You’re not going,” Uncle John said, and for one wonderful moment, Rodney thought that John meant him, that he’d been given an out. But, “Stay with your wife,” Uncle John said. “I’ll go.”
“John...” Uncle Nick started. Rodney was surprised that it was so weak a protest.
“I’ll go, I said,” Uncle John repeated. He was not a man you argued with, Rodney realized. Rodney didn’t trust people who couldn’t be properly persuaded.
Caldwell didn’t look too pleased, either, but he lifted his hand. “All right, I’ll swear you in.”
“No.”
“Why?” demanded Caldwell, after they’d all waited for John to say more, and he hadn’t.
“I figure a man’s only good for one oath at a time.” Rodney couldn’t look away from the sharp shine of Uncle John’s eyes. “I took mine to a free Atlantis.
“So did you, Captain,” John added, after a moment. He shot Uncle Nick one last look before he strode from the house. “Stay close, brother...”
Only later would Rodney realize that he’d really been looking at Aunt Elizabeth.
After that, things moved remarkably quickly. They pulled Aiden away from Kate, Radek scolding his son even as Kate blushed and grinned and bustled back inside. Rodney was struggling with his horse, trying not to stare as everyone else (Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle John) said their goodbyes. He was sufficiently secure in his saddle when he saw Teyla come running up. “Rodney,” she said, “what was the rest of the story? How did it end?”
“I’ll read you the rest when I get back, promise,” he told her. He could feel Uncle John’s eyes on him, and because of that, he didn’t linger.
They rode off together, in the direction of the Ring.
They were only a couple klicks away when Caldwell spotted it. Scarring on the land, a slight tear in the line of trees. “Dart,” he said, and dug his heels in. Eldon and the Zelenkas and Uncle John-and Rodney, too-all followed after.
The trail went on for a long while, away from the homestead and from the Ring. They rode hard at first, but soon had to slow to rest the horses. Rodney fell to the back of the line. There was something...off about the whole thing. The scorch marks were real, and he couldn’t think of anything else besides a dart that could make marks like that. But the flying patterns...
“Uncle John!” he cried suddenly, urging his horse to draw even with the older man’s. Sheppard’s sharp look sapped some of his certainty, but still he persisted. “There’s something mighty fishy about this trail, Uncle John.”
“Stop calling me ‘uncle,’” Uncle John said. His eyes had turned back to the horizon, where if he squinted, Rodney could just make out the dark shape of Aiden atop his horse, scouting ahead. “I’m not your uncle.”
Rodney’s mouth twisted. “Yes, sir,” he said, with as much sarcasm as he dared.
Sheppard snorted. “Don’t have to call me ‘sir,’ neither. I ain’t above you or anybody. Though,” he gave Rodney a dismissive once-over, “I could still kick your ass.”
Rodney rolled his eyes: this was not news. “What should I call you, then?”
“Name’s John,” Sheppard said. “Now-what’s so fishy about this trail?”
“Well,” Rodney said, pleased to return to the topic at hand. But before he could get another word out, Aiden was shouting and waving his hat. He’d clearly found something, but Rodney thought this was blatantly stupid behavior if he had actually stumbled upon the Wraith. Still, Uncle-Sheppard and Caldwell and Eldon and even Radek all tore off after him. Rodney had no choice but to follow.
Up over the ridge, and then they saw it: a downed Wraith dart, tip burrowed into the earth, the rear smoking. Aiden was whooping and circling the dart with his horse, obviously pleased that at least one Wraith had met such a messy and ignoble end, but the wrongness Rodney had felt looking at the trail was returning hundred-fold, and from the uneasy awkwardness of Radek’s mount, Rodney could tell that he felt it, too. Even Sheppard seemed to see it: his shoulders had gone rigid and still, and his horse was as anxious as its rider.
“That’ll teach ‘em!” Aiden was saying, but Sheppard dropped down to his feet and pushed the younger Zelenka away with a hard slap to his horse’s flank. “Sheppard-” Caldwell cautioned, but Sheppard ignored him and with confident, competent hands, did something to make the canopy of the dart draw back.
Inside, hunched over, was a man. A dead man. A man.
“Well, I’ll be,” said Eldon. “The Wraith sure are funny looking! Haw haw, yessir! Funny!”
“Mister Sheppard,” Radek breathed, “it is a trap, no?”
“Yes.” Sheppard turned back to his horse.
“A trap?” Rodney hated how high-pitched his voice sounded. “For us?”
“No.” Sheppard wasn’t looking at him, at any of them. “It’s a Genii murder raid.”
“Zbav nás od zlého!” Radek said. “Laura!”
“Pa,” said Aiden. Hesitating, horror-stricken.
“Yes, go!” Radek said. “I will catch up!”
Aiden took off riding the way they had come. Radek turned to him. “Pros za nás, Rodney,” he said, then followed after.
“The Zelenka place is closest,” Caldwell was telling Sheppard. “If they’re not there, we’ll come straight on.” Sheppard’s only response was to nod.
“Wait,” Rodney said, over the thundering sound of the hoof beats. He’d put the pieces together already, long before, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t believe...
But even the most cursory hint of humor and mocking was gone from Sheppard’s face. Grimly, he started stripping the gear off his horse. He pulled the grain bag off her and worked it open with his hand.
Rodney’s brain whirled around, raced off in the opposite direction. “What are you doing? There’s no time! If we leave now, we can still reach them...”
Sheppard gave him a cold look. “It’s more than forty klicks,” he said, tonelessly. “Horses can’t run on nothing. They need some grain and a little rest.”
“A little rest?’ Rodney knew he sounded hysterical, but he was, he was. “There isn’t time! If we don’t leave now they’ll be-” He saw Kate and Aiden embracing behind the house; saw Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Nick sitting by the fire, his big sturdy hand on her shoulder; saw Chuck leaning out of the top bunk to grin down at him; saw little Teyla, her braids bouncing on her back as she ran between the headstones. “I’m not waiting!”
He wheeled around without another word. He had never been an especially good horseman-he was, he knew, a perpetual disappointment to Uncle Nick-but he’d grown up out here, and he could ride quickly when the need arose. He rode quickly now. At any other time, he would have been terrified that he was going to break his neck, but as the distance fell all-too-slowly away, it was the last thing on his mind.
Rodney’s horse was named Allegra. Uncle Nick had given her to him, but in Rodney’s mind, grudgingly-with none of the pride he had shown on presenting Chuck with his mare. Rodney took good care of her because he understood the importance of treating one’s equipment well. He didn’t love her.
After about ten klicks, Allegra began to tire. Rodney patted her neck and urged her on. Twenty klicks and she had visibly slowed; spit was frothing at the corners of her mouth. “Come on, girl,” Rodney told her. “We’re almost there. Almost there. We can rest when we get there. We’re almost there.” Thirty klicks and she began to stumble and to sway; Rodney thought he saw smoke, thick and dark, rising from the horizon, but it was his imagination, it had to be. He was tired, too. So tired. He’d stayed up too late reading-why hadn’t he listened when Chuck had asked him to blow out the candle?
The world tilted under him, and at first Rodney thought that it was he who had fallen, tumbled from the saddle and into the dirt. But it was him and Allegra both, her body collapsing and him falling with it. He hit the ground hard, his head missing a rock by a matter of inches. He could see the other way it could have happened: his skull striking stone and splitting open, his brains spilling out into the dust and the mud. Instead he lay panting and winded in the dirt. Allegra was dead. Rodney pulled his leg out from under her body; by some chance, it wasn’t broken. He felt completely shattered.
He sat for a moment until his head cleared, and then he started walking.
It had gone on past midnight while he’d been riding; it was edging toward morning when he heard hoof beats. He looked back: Sheppard was bearing down on him, riding hard on his rested horse. Rodney summoned what little energy he had left and ran to meet him. “Uncle John! Uncle John! It’s Rodney, wait!”
Sheppard’s horse kicked up a cloud of dust. Rodney caught a short glimpse of his face as he barreled past. He didn’t stop; didn’t pause; didn’t acknowledge Rodney at all.
Rodney ran after him as long as he could. When the dust had cleared and he couldn’t run anymore, he saw that he’d been prophetic-or, as he always liked to claim, just plain right all along. The sky was dark with smoke. Rodney stumbled the rest of the way down into the small valley where Uncle Nick and Aunt Elizabeth’s (his) house was. The air was thick with it, the smoke. He couldn’t breathe.
Uncle John was sitting at the foot of the porch-of what had been the porch. His back was to what was left of the house. The roof had collapsed; the whole thing was black and charred and smoking. The smell...
“Teyla!” Rodney cried. “Aunt Elizabeth! Teyla!” He scrambled toward the steps.
Uncle John caught his arm and jerked him back. “You stay out!”
Rodney struggled, but as easily as his arm had come away the last time Uncle John had held it, it was not budging now. “Let go of me!” he shouted. “Teyla-”
“Nothing for you to see,” Uncle John said firmly.
“Let go!” Rodney demanded, and then he was flat on his back, the side of his face stinging. Sheppard was standing over him, his right fist held in the left.
“I said don’t go in there,” Sheppard said. He turned and walked away, and Rodney heard nothing, saw nothing, but the crunch of his boots on the ground.
The funeral was the next day. There was no time to waste. Three bodies in the ground, not five, and Rodney tried desperately to cling to that as a positive, to cling to hope. Or else be like Sheppard: block out all the images of Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Nick and Chuck (only fourteen, and Rodney didn’t know how he was supposed to look to the Ancestors for meaning in this); to block it all out and concentrate instead on Teyla and Kate. If he rode hard enough, thought long enough, he might see them again, still.
They left the funeral and took straight to the saddle, Sheppard and Aiden and Eldon and Caldwell, and a few others that the Captain had rustled up. Radek stayed behind: he was acknowledged a poor rider, and he was disinclined to leave his only daughter alone after what had happened, despite Laura’s skill with a rifle. Likewise, intimidatingly fierce though she was in normal times, Laura seemed reluctant to see any of them go. She grabbed for Rodney’s hand as he pulled himself up onto his borrowed mount. He couldn’t look at her, but he felt the cool press of her fingers, the squeeze.
Then they rode, and they rode, and they rode, and Rodney felt his fingers go numb and his mind go number.
On the afternoon of the second day, on the planet Hoff, they found a hastily dug grave. The disturbed dirt had been weighed down, somewhat sloppily, with stones. Sheppard whistled when he saw it. “Good on Nick,” he said, mouth a twisted grin. He looked at Caldwell. “I believe that’s seven we can score for my brother?”
Aiden scrambled down off his horse and began tossing the rocks aside. Rodney felt his mouth stutter into motion. “What are you doing?” On some intrinsic level, he was disturbed by the casual desecration of a grave.
“He’s making sure,” Caldwell said: and indeed, there was a Genii corpse laid out. Rodney recognized the distinctive lines of paint on the dead man’s arms, the odd combination of savage clothing and sophisticated weaponry. The remnants, Rodney thought, of a once great society destroyed by the Wraith. As the war with the Terrans had almost destroyed the Lanteans-as the Wraith could destroy them still.
Rodney did not present this theory to Uncle John.
He wouldn’t have had the opportunity, because one of the other riders was already presenting his. “I don’t like this,” Kavanagh said, doffing his hat and wiping his sweaty brow. “Genii on a raid usually hide their dead so we can’t know how many they’ve lost. If they don’t care about us knowing, then it stands to reason that they don’t care about us following-or catching them, either!”
Caldwell took a swig from his canteen. “You can back out any time, Kavanagh.”
“Now, I didn’t say that-” Kavanagh started, but his protest was drowned out by an echoing shot, and then another.
Sheppard was already packing away his pistol by the time Rodney’s eyes caught up with him. But everyone could see what he had done.
“Are you n-” With effort, Rodney bit back the word. “What good does that do?”
“None, by what you believe,” Sheppard said. He gave a casual shrug and remounted his horse. “But the Genii have legends-without their eyes they can’t see the Ancestors to guide them, they have to wander forever through the spirit lands.” Sheppard’s horse stirred into motion. “Maybe if she’d lived, your grandmother would have told you something about that.”
That night in front of the fire, Aiden hunkered down next to Rodney, who was rubbing and warming his sore hands. Rodney looked up, surprised. They were about the same age-Aiden was only a few years older-and they’d grown up together, known each other almost all their lives. But they’d never been friends.
Now Aiden turned to him and whispered, “She’s alive, isn’t she? She’s gotta be alive. If she’s alive I’ll make it up to her, I’ll make her happy, make her forget. But she’s just gotta be alive...”
Rodney didn’t know what to say. He thought of Kate, who was friendly and open and understanding-and too trusting. He thought about Teyla.
He opened his mouth to say something, some meaningless reassurance that he knew would sound false, but then a bedroll connected none-too-gently with the back of his head and he literally bit his tongue.
“Get some rest,” Sheppard said.
He turned and stalked off. Rodney watched him over his shoulder. He thought maybe Sheppard was looking at something, maybe a miniature. Or maybe he was just staring into space.
Rodney looked up at the stars. He used to try to map them, match up what he saw from the ground on Athos to the other few worlds he knew. This sky looked completely different. He wondered what sky he’d be staring out at tomorrow.
They were following them from world to world, Ring to Ring. Radek had long since shown Aiden how to uncover the last sequence dialed, and Sheppard knew the basic method, too. But Rodney was better and faster than both of them, and his skill with the Ancestors’ gifts was one of the only things that kept him from feeling completely useless.
On Doranda, Rodney had just finished making sure that the Genii hadn’t dialed immediately out again when Caldwell pulled them in to talk strategy. Sheppard stood on the edge of the circle, turned almost fully away, washing the dust out of his mouth. Rodney pulled his eyes from the undulations of Sheppard’s throat and instead concentrated on Caldwell.
“I’m sick of being led around in circles,” Caldwell was saying. “But they made a mistake coming here, and I say we take advantage of it. Rather than following after them and not catching up and just being led ‘round back to the Ring, still behind ‘em, I say we take cover behind those rocks there and lay in wait for them. They have to come back sooner or later, and if I’m not mistaken this planet gets real cold come nightfall, so it’s gonna be sooner.”
“Damn right it is.” Sheppard was laughing to himself.
Caldwell turned and glared at him. “You got a problem with my plan, Sheppard?”
Sheppard scratched absently at the side of his head. He was the only one not wearing a hat-and the only one whose hair wasn’t matted down by grime and sweat. “How many Genii do you think were in that raiding party?”
Caldwell stared him down. “You’re saying we’re outnumbered? We’re outnumbered riding after them, too. I don’t see how setting up to take them down on our own terms changes that.”
Rodney found he was nodding. He was scared to face the Genii-terrified, even-but he wanted to; he wanted the confrontation, wanted to look the people who had murdered his family in the eye and- He wanted Teyla and Kate back.
Caldwell’s plan seemed smarter, and more expedient. “That makes sense to me,” Rodney said suddenly, loudly. “Logically-”
Sheppard scoffed. “Is the quarter-breed gonna lecture me about Genii logic?”
It was a dismissal. Sheppard’s next words were directed at Caldwell, not at Rodney. “You don’t know anything about it. Genii have this down to an art. It’s the only thing they still do well, and if we lay a trap for them, I guarantee they’re gonna spring one on us. They know we’re following, and if they get wind of the fact we’ve stopped, they’re gonna send back enough men to put us in the ground while the girls stay tucked away on the far side of this ugly rock. No, the only thing to do is keep following and wait for them to slip up.” Sheppard’s gaze was even. “I can wait a long, long time.”
When Rodney got set in an idea, he didn’t like to change his mind, was unlikely to have it changed. But already he could feel the days of rough riding and hard living having an effect: he could suddenly see the thing from a world of different angles. Furthermore, he was learning that logic didn’t mean much out here, barely anything in the face of experience. He felt his direction sway...or maybe that was just weariness.
Caldwell was much sturdier. “How long, Sheppard?” he asked. “Weeks? Months? Years? Until their captors have set their hooks in and-”
“Fine,” Sheppard ground out-loud enough that some of the horses stamped, whinnying and stepping back. “I take it you’re giving me an order, then?”
Caldwell’s nod was firm and decisive. “Go set up behind those rocks over there.” And when Sheppard still didn’t move, save the tightening of his hand around his horse’s reins, Caldwell growled, “And that is an order, Sheppard!”
“Yes, sir.” Silky smile, with jagged teeth underneath. “But if you’re wrong, Captain Caldwell, don’t ever give me another!”
True to its definition, the ambush was sudden and took them completely by surprise. Rodney was crouched next to Eldon, doing his best to hold still and keep his gun in position and his eyes focused. He was also doing all he could to keep Eldon quiet, which mostly consisted of hissing, “Shh!” and “Hush it!” and “Would you shut up?” Then there was-nothing, no sound, no warning, but suddenly Sheppard was pushing his head down and the rock in front of him was splintering, catching him across the forehead. Sheppard had spun around and was firing his gun. Rodney realized that he’d dropped his. He scrambled for it in the dirt.
Caldwell had turned and was firing, too. “How the hell did they get behind us?”
Rodney was wondering the same thing. He knew Markham had been on lookout at their six...and he knew, catching sight of the heat in Sheppard’s eyes, that Markham had seen and heard absolutely nothing, right up until the moment when he’d stopped hearing and seeing for good.
Rodney’s hand closed on his gun, but his palms were sweaty and his eyes were stinging with blood and dust. They were outnumbered and worse, they were now pressed up against the rock they’d been planning to use as a shield. There was a pained cry and Rodney saw a blurry shape slump backward against the stone; he thought it might be Kavanagh. He wondered if it would be better or worse for Kate and Teyla if they all died.
He could see Sheppard, standing up straight and firing away like he knew he could hit every target, like he didn’t think he stood a chance of getting hit himself, or just plain didn’t care. Sheppard certainly wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t paying him any attention at all, but Rodney could feel his judgment anyway: waves of it. Sheppard was not impressed. Even Eldon was aiming and shooting with impressive skill; Rodney wiped the blood and his hair out of his eyes and sighted as best he could down the barrel of the gun.
His shot went wide-pathetically so-but he had the excuse of hearing Caldwell shout “Rodney!” at the last second, startling him. “Get to the Ring! Dial out! Dial home!”
To his surprise, Rodney almost answered, “No!” But there was blood in his eyes and Kavanagh was moaning and holding his gushing thigh. And they weren’t doing his sisters any good like this.
He scrambled up over the rock, sure that at any moment he was going to take a bullet to the head. (Or-worse, more humiliating-the ass.) But he suffered no further injury besides scrapes to his hands as they fumbled. The Ring activated, blasting blue, and then Aiden was shoving the injured Kavanagh into his arms and yelling at him to go through. Aiden and Caldwell and Eldon were right behind him.
Sheppard was last. When he tumbled out on the other side, he was still firing.
Markham was dead. Caldwell had taken a bullet to the shoulder, and it wasn’t certain yet whether Kavanagh was going to keep the leg. Worse, they had lost their best and maybe only chance of finding Kate and Teyla.
“I’m going to keep looking,” Sheppard said.
“I have to find Kate,” Aiden insisted.
Rodney got on his horse-his third in almost as few days. He’d given up on putting answers to this, or explanations. But he hadn’t given up.
Caldwell waved to them from his bed-an almost salute. All he said was, “Good luck.”
It did seem that luck was with them, for once: back on Doranda, eerily quiet now after the noise of the fight, with only scuff marks in the dirt to show that a struggle had even taken place, Rodney dialed the last outgoing address. They stepped back through the swirling blue passage to discover a trail leading away from the ring on the other side, perfectly preserved. Rodney was instantly suspicious. But Aiden looked pleased and John looked determined, so they set off. The suns were a pair of hot white circles in the sky. The mesas were blood red.
The trail led them close to one of the cliffs, then along its side, in its shadow. Rodney looked up nervously, convinced that Genii were waiting for them, ready to leap down onto their backs and slit their throats. But nothing swooped down from above; there weren’t even any birds.
They rode on into the afternoon. Rodney’s brain had slipped into its most comfortable holding pattern-running calculations, declining Ancient-when suddenly Sheppard stopped, slid off his horse. Squatting above the dusty ground, “The trail splits here,” he said. He pointed to a passageway, a jagged, narrow cut in the rock face. “A group of ‘em broke off, rode through the passage, The rest continued around. You follow the main bunch,” he told Rodney and Aiden, without really looking at them at all. “I’ll meet you on the other side.”
“You want us to split up?” Rodney was incredulous. “What, do you want to make it easier for them to pick us off?”
Sheppard looked at him for several long seconds, rocking back and forth on his heels. His long grey duster trailed along the ground.
“Thought we got free of the whining when we got rid of Kavanagh,” he said finally. He stared Rodney in the face. “I don’t need you here.”
Rodney wanted to throttle him. He didn’t even care that he’d lose. But Aiden put a restraining hand on his arm, and with an impressive amount of single-mindedness said, “The sooner we stop arguing, the sooner we can find Kate.”
Sheppard didn’t respond, but then, he wasn’t really listening to them anyway-he’d made it very clear that he didn’t care what they did. He got back on his horse and stood watching, waiting, at the entrance to the canyon. It was almost like he was guarding it. He stood there until grumbling, Rodney got on his horse, and he and Aiden rode away.
It didn’t make any sense. Sheppard had made them take the longer route, but he wasn’t there when they rounded the far side of the butte. Rodney and Aiden exchanged nervous glances. “You think he ran into trouble?” Aiden asked.
“I don’t know,” Rodney said, thinking, Bastard’s probably gotten himself killed and left us here to die! “I don’t like it.” It took him a moment to work up the courage, but when he did say, “We should go in after him,” he managed it with only the slightest shake.
Aiden, however, shook his head. “Sheppard said to wait for him here.”
Rodney shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “So? When did we ever agree to just blindly follow his orders?”
Aiden’s mouth was flat and firm. Following Sheppard blindly had obviously been his strategy from the beginning.
Letting out a frustrated huff, Rodney swung himself down to the ground. He might not like the situation, but he wasn’t going into the canyon alone, that was for sure. So instead he unstrapped the bag of grain and set about feeding his horse. It was good for her to have the rest; that was a mistake that was never going to be repeated.
His gear had been checked twice over when he saw Aiden’s head turn, and a moment later, Sheppard come riding out of the canyon. He halted, abrupt and awkward, a few feet away from them, and with a surprising lack of grace tumbled to the ground. His knees sank into the sandy soil, and his hands, raking through. Rodney opened his mouth, worried and surprised, but Sheppard looked unhurt. His brow, however, was damp with sweat, and his shoulders were vibrating, so slightly that Rodney felt it more than saw.
“What happened?” Aiden asked. “Why’d they break off?”
Sheppard didn’t say anything. Rodney could tell that this was a silence different to Sheppard’s usual snubs-he wasn’t making a point, or keeping quiet to make those around him look the fool. He was just...quiet.
“Was there water in that canyon?” Aiden asked. He sounded hopeful-but at the hope of Sheppard snapping out of it or the prospect of a cool drink, Rodney couldn’t tell.
“Uncle John,” Rodney said, the old title now uncomfortable and awkward in his mouth. “Are you all right?”
“Huh?” Sheppard said, looking distant and utterly lost. Then suddenly his gaze sharpened, his eyes focused. “Sure I’m all right,” he said. Almost easy again.
But Rodney’s racing mind had already arrived at its destination. “Your coat’s gone,” he said. It felt like a revelation. But he couldn’t take it any farther, couldn’t decipher what it meant.
“Must have left it behind,” Sheppard muttered. He got to his feet, then swung back onto his horse, his movements fluid again. “I’m not going back for it.” He dug in his heels. “C’mon.”
Rodney didn’t want to let it lie, but Aiden was already trotting off after Sheppard, eager and determined, as if nothing had happened. Casting one glance back at the dark mouth of the canyon, Rodney followed.
Rodney had an old Athosian lighter that he had fixed; he had the design pretty well figured out, and he’d been building another out of some material that Radek had given him, planning to give this one to Teyla once he was finished. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but counting back the days, Rodney realized that it was just over a week. He’d dreamt about getting away from the ranch, Rodney thought bitterly, watching the campfire flare up; well, he’d certainly gotten that wish.
He turned his head and watched as Sheppard’s long-fingered hands moved over the ropes, confident even in the dim light, securing the horses. Night had come on quickly. Rodney stared for a moment at the inky black sky, then jerked upward when he heard the rapid approach of hooves.
It was just Aiden, coming back from patrol, but it was Aiden riding roughly, sloppily. He tumbled off his mount on wobbly legs, and started speaking far too loudly and with a speediness that would rival Rodney at his best. “I saw her! I saw Kate!”
Rodney’s mouth opened in surprise, his heart making a hopeful leap in his chest. Beside him he felt Sheppard shift, slow and unexcited.
“They’re camped about two miles over, down in the valley.” Aiden took a gasping swig of water. “I saw their smoke, so I went in low and peeked over, and there they were, right below me!”
“Did you see Teyla?” Rodney asked, his fingers clenched tight around the lighter’s frame.
“No,” Aiden said, apologetic for the space of a syllable before getting excited again. “But I saw Kate all right! She was wearing that white dress...”
“What you saw wasn’t Kate,” Sheppard said.
Aiden reeled on him, eyes wide and dark and frightening. “It was, I tell you!”
Sheppard stared him down. When he spoke, his voice was expressionless, flat.
“What you saw was a Genii armsman wearing Kate’s dress.”
Sheppard took a breath, but that was it, that was all. “I found Kate back in the canyon,” he said. “I wrapped her in my coat and I buried her with my own hands. I didn’t tell you because...”
He trailed off then, unable to voice or maybe even think of a reason. But neither Rodney nor Aiden was protesting. Rodney felt like he wasn’t going to manage saying anything for a long while.
In fact, Aiden spoke first. His face turned away so that Rodney couldn’t see him, “Was she...?” he asked. “Did they...?”
Sheppard burst into motion so fast that Rodney almost didn’t catch the movement. His hands were clenched into fists, one slightly raised; for a second Rodney thought that he was going to hit somebody.
“What do you want me to do, draw you a picture? Don’t ever ask me!” He sank back onto his heels, shaking. Within the space of a few more heaves of his chest, the emotion had gone out of his face.
Aiden stared at him. Then he turned and his gaze encompassed Rodney, too. The light of the fire cast half his face in brightness and threw the other half into shadow. Rodney took an involuntary step back.
There was a pause in which they all stood, not quite looking at each other; finally, Rodney hazarded a shaky, painful breath. Teyla, he was going to say, there’s still...
When Aiden broke for the horses, he was moving faster than Sheppard had. He swung up onto his mount and spurred her away before Rodney could get out more than a startled, “Aiden!”
Sheppard was moving swiftly, undoing his careful knot work, but even as they urged their horses into a gallop Rodney knew that it wasn’t going to be enough. They saw Aiden pause briefly, a dark shadow against the light from the Genii fire; then he charged into the camp, yelling.
The shots were loud, but the silence that followed was even louder.
When Rodney woke in the morning, it was only the two of them. And in the weeks and months that followed, it was only the two of them, and the increasingly faint trail, and the tiny flicker of hope that Rodney kept and held and sheltered from the cruel wind and Sheppard’s colder stare. Sometimes, there was something in his eyes that made Rodney wonder if they were even searching for the same thing.
But whatever they were looking for, they both lost it together, coming through the Ring onto a planet busy with traders. Whatever address the Genii had dialed had been lost many times over in the shuffle. Rodney looked down at the Ancient symbols, frustrated and furious, and the people who pushed past on their way to the market took one look at his expression and laughed.
Sheppard wasn’t laughing. He stood off to the side, waiting for Rodney to join him. Rodney hesitated, but eventually he walked over, his head held high.
“We’re not giving up,” he said, pleased that it was almost entirely not a question.
“No,” Sheppard said. And he touched Rodney’s shoulder briefly as Rodney punched in the sequence to take them home.
Continued in Part II
So here's my longest solo SGA fic to date. *bites nails*
Title: A Rush and a Push and the Land Is Ours
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Category: AU
Length: ~25,000 words
Summary: Rodney had always figured himself for a man born in the wrong era.
A/N: For reel_sga, based on The Searchers. Many thanks to amireal, cathexys, fairestcat, and randomeliza for their help and suggestions.
A Rush and a Push and the Land Is Ours
Rodney had always figured himself for a man born in the wrong era. He’d read everything there was to read about the Ancestors, but no amount of reading could make him walk among them or live in their enlightened age. No amount of learning could change the nature of his birth, either, but Aunt Elizabeth’s protection had enabled him to twice see the Ancient City, lit up and glowing, and almost as beautiful as the stories. He’d been twelve years old the last time he’d seen it. That had been before the war.
The war was over now, though-or that one was at least-and Rodney knew that if he just worked hard enough, just did enough to square with Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Nick, then he might one day soon be able to go back. He was still Lantean, no matter what he’d been born to; and no matter what had happened between the Lanteans and the Terrans, it was still his city, his destiny.
He had a book. It was only children’s stories, but it was written in Ancient, which he had almost taught himself to read. He was out back in the cemetery, reading to Teyla, when he heard the sound of a rider approaching. Teyla sprang to her feet. Kate had done her younger sister’s hair in braids that morning, but they loosened as Teyla moved, the hair curling down her back. “It might be from town!” she said, “it might be a letter!” Rodney made grumbling noises, but he was curious, too. He got up and followed her toward the house.
They reached the yard just in time to see Aunt Elizabeth come outside, her hands falling away from her apron, letting it and the fabric of her skirts drop into the dust. Her fingers rose to her mouth as if she were using them to muffle a word, but Rodney heard nothing, not even a breath, until Uncle Nick came around from the barn and said, “John?” Rodney’s eyes snapped away from the approaching figure and turned toward his uncle, sharply. He’d hardly ever seen Nick speak even a syllable of surprise.
It had been a long time since any of them had seen Uncle John-not since before the end of the war-but Rodney didn’t see why that had everyone all shocked; who wouldn’t jump at the chance to go to places more exciting than Athos? Yet Kate was throwing down her mixing bowl, and Chuck was tossing away his firewood, both of them rushing out into the yard like it was the Ancestors who were arriving and not Uncle John. Even Teyla, who could scarcely be old enough to remember him, was bouncing up and down, vibrating with excitement. Rodney watched them all, awkward and out of place, unsure where to stand.
Uncle John rode into the yard and sat his horse. He wasn’t wearing a hat, but a shadow still fell over his eyes. There was a long silence that even Rodney couldn’t bring himself to break. Then Uncle John inclined his head, as if tipping the hat that wasn’t there, and spoke in the slow drawl that Rodney remembered better than his mother’s voice. “Hello, Nick...”
Uncle Nick didn’t say anything. Rodney wouldn’t have cared if he had, because even through the shadows he’d seen Uncle John’s eyes shift: he was staring down at Aunt Elizabeth, and she was staring up at him. There was something queer to that stare. Rodney wanted to look around and see if Kate had noticed it, but he couldn’t seem to break his eyes away from Uncle John’s face.
“Elizabeth,” John said.
“Hello, John,” she answered.
Uncle John swung slowly but gracefully out of the saddle. He was a lot smaller than Rodney had remembered him. He was tall, yes, but his shoulders and hips were slim. Also, Rodney had grown.
Uncle Nick stepped forward, wiping his hands on his pants. “How’s the Cloister?” he asked.
“How should I know?”
“Eldon said-”
Uncle John snorted. “I see you’re still getting your information from reliable sources.”
Rodney blinked, surprised. Nobody talked to Uncle Nick like that-Rodney knew from experience. And if they did, Nick certainly didn’t take it with nothing more than a slanting twist of lips.
Uncle Nick also usually helped guests to tend to their horses. Now, though, he just stood back and watched.
Chuck was stepping forward, his hands (and his hair) a little more polished thanks to the water trough. He smiled up at Uncle John, nervously. John watched him out of the corner of his eye. “You must be Chuck,” he said, and the little curve of an approving grin that Rodney saw his brother receive made his heart skip. No wonder Kate was walking further away from the cool shadow of the house, skin flushed from more than just the sun.
But Uncle John’s eye was caught by Teyla first. He frowned-not in anger, but in puzzlement. “Kate? You’re not much bigger than the last time I saw you.”
Teyla smiled, an expression that could almost match John’s when used to its full effect: countless were the times that smile had gotten Rodney to put aside his studies and go riding with her, or even play one of the complicated games she invented. “I’m Teyla,” she said. And pointing to her sister, “She’s Kate.”
“Uncle John,” Kate said, and blushed.
“Kate has a beau,” Teyla supplied helpfully, the very picture of eleven-year-old innocence.
“Mother!” said Kate.
“Girls.” Aunt Elizabeth finally pulled her gaze away from Uncle John. “Go inside and set the table. Charles, finish bringing that wood in. Rodney...”
Rodney knew what to do without being told, and appreciated the order remaining unsaid. He snatched Uncle John’s horse’s bridle and started to lead her away.
A hand closed roughly on his arm and jerked him around. “Hey!” Rodney exclaimed, pulling the limb back, offended. He wanted to say something else-complain about what such rough treatment was surely doing to his already taxed muscles, maybe-but the cold look of hatred in Uncle John’s eyes stopped him short. “John!” Aunt Elizabeth said quickly, stepping forward, even as Uncle Nick shook his head and turned away. “This is Rodney. Don’t you remember Rodney?”
Uncle John blinked and stepped back, but Rodney could still see the ghost of the initial reaction on John’s face, like the image of the sun stayed behind your eyes if you stared too long. Uncle John’s lips quirked up into something that was not quite a smile. “Mistook you for a half-breed,” he said, and beside him, Aunt Elizabeth laughed, as if it were a joke.
Rodney fought to keep his face blank. Sensing that it was a losing battle, he then fought to do one better: with mocking in his tone, wonder at Uncle John’s utter idiocy, “I’m a quarter Genii,” he admitted. “Rest is Athosian. Manarian, too. Which makes me Lantean,” he explained, as if to a small child, caught asking stupid questions. And Rodney almost wanted Uncle John to press it, to make Rodney explain it further, in detail. His version of their galaxy’s history, on which, if he had his way, their future would be built.
But Uncle John just shook his head and remarked, “You’ve done a lot of growing. Didn’t use to talk so much, either.”
Rodney hadn’t seen Uncle Nick turn back around, but suddenly he was using this comment (with which Rodney was sure Nick would usually agree) to step in between Uncle John and Aunt Elizabeth. “It was John who found you after your parents were taken,” Nick said, sliding the bridle out of Rodney’s hand. “Heard the crying and went back for you.”
Rodney had heard this story many times before. From the look of him, it had been told much too often for Uncle John’s liking. “My brother exaggerates,” John said, concentrating on unlacing his pack from his horse’s side. “It only happened to be me. I was just there.” He gave the horse’s flank a rough pat and turned abruptly toward the house. Aunt Elizabeth followed after him, her skirts floating gently above the ground.
Rodney glanced back at Uncle Nick. He wanted an explanation, but all he got was a slight nod of Nick’s head. They were all so damn quiet; that was how Rodney knew, sometimes, that they weren’t really his people.
“Go wash up,” Uncle Nick said. He turned and led the horse away, into the setting sun.
Rodney jolted awake, the book he’d stayed up far too late reading (Chuck complaining endlessly about the flickering candlelight, then finally rolling over in disgust and settling into a low snore) clattering to the floor. He heard knocking and loud voices and the sound of someone pulling back the bar, then Uncle Nick and Aunt Elizabeth speaking, lower but still rapid, worried. Chuck slid out of his bunk and down to the floor. “What is it?” he asked from his crouch. “Should I get my gun?”
“Shh!” Rodney hissed. What was with everyone, always wanting to go off half-cocked? “Listen.”
The voices had lowered to a more civilized volume, but everyone had stopped talking at once, which made what was being said easier to distinguish. “Sorry to get you all out of bed so early,” said a gruff voice, and Rodney quieted Chuck’s enthusiastic whisper of “Captain Caldwell!” with an annoyed wave of his hand.
“That’s all right, Captain,” said Aunt Elizabeth. “Radek, Aiden, sit down. Eldon, you can have the rocking chair.” There was the sound of movement: coffee being fetched. “Captain, do you have time...?” Pouring. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ll let Radek here explain it,” Caldwell said. Chuck, in turn, had to stop Rodney from racing out into the parlor and revealing that they’d been eavesdropping. In Rodney's opinion, Radek Zelenka was one of the only men, on this planet or any neighboring, who was at all worth listening to.
“Mister Sheppard,” Radek said, “you were there when I found that device, buried out behind our house?” Rodney assumed Uncle Nick nodded-it had been him, after all, who had kept Rodney away from the site for days. Then Aunt Elizabeth had pulled her husband aside, and Rodney suddenly found himself allowed to assist Radek, Aiden in exchange taking over Rodney’s duties on the ranch. Kate was still grateful to him for that.
Radek continued: “Well, then you remember what I theorized at the time, that it was detection device. And even though your-even though Rodney and I were not able to make it work then, this morning I come out to check on the krávy and I find it has just...switched on.”
“That’s impossible!” Rodney declared. It was only after Chuck put his head in his hands that Rodney realized how loud he’d been.
“Rodney, get out here!” Uncle Nick called, and Rodney came, face flushed. Captain Caldwell was sitting at the table, chuckling despite the grave lines ingrained in his face. Radek was sitting across from him with Uncle Nick and Aunt Elizabeth hovering nervously at his side. Eldon was by the fire, lost in his own world, and Aiden had disappeared somewhere, which was good-one less person to witness his humiliation. Still, “It is impossible,” he said firmly. “Radek, we agreed-”
Radek shrugged, his hands clasped tightly around a cup of coffee; ignoring Uncle Nick’s disapproving look, Rodney went and poured himself his own cup. “Something must have happened to recharge its power,” Radek said. “Perhaps that lightning strike last week-”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Oh, please-” he started, but Uncle Nick said his name sharply. “Radek has years of experience with this kind of technology,” Nick cautioned. “You’re just a boy...”
Captain Caldwell glanced up. “How old is he, Nick?”
Uncle Nick paused with his mouth slightly agape. Rodney took advantage of the opening. “I’m twenty,” he said, firmly. After a moment, he added, “Sir.”
“Good,” said Caldwell, slapping his hands on the table and standing. “Then Rodney, Nick: raise your right hands-”
“Captain,” Uncle Nick said, the word underlined by a hint of a question, by an inkling of anger. Rodney wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard Aunt Elizabeth suck in a sharp breath.
“Nick,” said Caldwell, and it was like a battle to see who could say the most by saying the least of all. “Boy’s old enough, and if Radek’s right and the Wraith are on Athos, then we’re gonna need all the hands we can get.”
“I’ll come!” said Teyla, bounding out of the girls’ bedroom. “I’ll fight the Wraith!”
“Me, too!” said Chuck. He came out carrying the small saber Uncle John had given him the night before, as if to make up for the fact that his younger sister had volunteered first.
Caldwell was already shaking his head, but Aunt Elizabeth silenced him by stepping forward and taking first Teyla and then Chuck into her arms. “I need you both here,” she explained. “You’ll stay and protect me while your father and brother are away?”
Teyla nodded, her braids bouncing. “Yes, mamma,” Chuck said.
Aunt Elizabeth hugged them close. Rodney looked away.
Uncle Nick touched his shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “Raise your right hand, Rodney.”
Rodney lifted his fingers, concentrating on holding them steady. He didn’t look at Radek, staring at the table, or at the soft movements of Aunt Elizabeth’s skirts. He stared straight at Caldwell’s face as the Captain solemnly intoned, “You are hereby volunteer privates in Company A of the Athos Rangers and will faithfully discharge the duties of same without recompense or monetary compensation, but with the blessing and good will of the Ancestors. Nod your head, son.”
Rodney nodded.
From behind him came the sound of laughter. “Started sending boys to do men’s jobs, have you, Captain?”
Rodney’s back stiffened. How long had Uncle John been standing there? He looked to Aunt Elizabeth, but her face didn’t carry any answers. Just another queer look, one that made Uncle Nick’s eyes narrow and Eldon rock his chair and chuckle.
“Very impressive,” Uncle John continued, his eyes on Caldwell. He poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal brother,” said Caldwell, dryly. “When’d you get back?”
After a moment, Rodney realized that Uncle John wasn’t even going to bother answering. Instead he sipped his coffee and smiled a smile that almost made Eldon look sane.
Caldwell continued, seemingly unfazed. “Haven’t seen you since the surrender,” he said, casual, conversational. “Come to think of it, I didn’t see you at the surrender.”
“I don’t believe in surrenders,” Uncle John said. He finished off the coffee in one big gulp and set the cup aside, the metal ringing loudly against the wood.
“John,” said Aunt Elizabeth, stroking her hand through Teyla’s hair. “Radek thinks there might be Wraith...”
“I heard.” Uncle John swiveled his gaze to Uncle Nick.
“John, I’m counting on you to look after things while Rodney and I are away,” Uncle Nick said. Every trace of flippancy was gone from his voice. Rodney swallowed, his throat dry and bitter from the coffee.
“You’re not going,” Uncle John said, and for one wonderful moment, Rodney thought that John meant him, that he’d been given an out. But, “Stay with your wife,” Uncle John said. “I’ll go.”
“John...” Uncle Nick started. Rodney was surprised that it was so weak a protest.
“I’ll go, I said,” Uncle John repeated. He was not a man you argued with, Rodney realized. Rodney didn’t trust people who couldn’t be properly persuaded.
Caldwell didn’t look too pleased, either, but he lifted his hand. “All right, I’ll swear you in.”
“No.”
“Why?” demanded Caldwell, after they’d all waited for John to say more, and he hadn’t.
“I figure a man’s only good for one oath at a time.” Rodney couldn’t look away from the sharp shine of Uncle John’s eyes. “I took mine to a free Atlantis.
“So did you, Captain,” John added, after a moment. He shot Uncle Nick one last look before he strode from the house. “Stay close, brother...”
Only later would Rodney realize that he’d really been looking at Aunt Elizabeth.
After that, things moved remarkably quickly. They pulled Aiden away from Kate, Radek scolding his son even as Kate blushed and grinned and bustled back inside. Rodney was struggling with his horse, trying not to stare as everyone else (Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle John) said their goodbyes. He was sufficiently secure in his saddle when he saw Teyla come running up. “Rodney,” she said, “what was the rest of the story? How did it end?”
“I’ll read you the rest when I get back, promise,” he told her. He could feel Uncle John’s eyes on him, and because of that, he didn’t linger.
They rode off together, in the direction of the Ring.
They were only a couple klicks away when Caldwell spotted it. Scarring on the land, a slight tear in the line of trees. “Dart,” he said, and dug his heels in. Eldon and the Zelenkas and Uncle John-and Rodney, too-all followed after.
The trail went on for a long while, away from the homestead and from the Ring. They rode hard at first, but soon had to slow to rest the horses. Rodney fell to the back of the line. There was something...off about the whole thing. The scorch marks were real, and he couldn’t think of anything else besides a dart that could make marks like that. But the flying patterns...
“Uncle John!” he cried suddenly, urging his horse to draw even with the older man’s. Sheppard’s sharp look sapped some of his certainty, but still he persisted. “There’s something mighty fishy about this trail, Uncle John.”
“Stop calling me ‘uncle,’” Uncle John said. His eyes had turned back to the horizon, where if he squinted, Rodney could just make out the dark shape of Aiden atop his horse, scouting ahead. “I’m not your uncle.”
Rodney’s mouth twisted. “Yes, sir,” he said, with as much sarcasm as he dared.
Sheppard snorted. “Don’t have to call me ‘sir,’ neither. I ain’t above you or anybody. Though,” he gave Rodney a dismissive once-over, “I could still kick your ass.”
Rodney rolled his eyes: this was not news. “What should I call you, then?”
“Name’s John,” Sheppard said. “Now-what’s so fishy about this trail?”
“Well,” Rodney said, pleased to return to the topic at hand. But before he could get another word out, Aiden was shouting and waving his hat. He’d clearly found something, but Rodney thought this was blatantly stupid behavior if he had actually stumbled upon the Wraith. Still, Uncle-Sheppard and Caldwell and Eldon and even Radek all tore off after him. Rodney had no choice but to follow.
Up over the ridge, and then they saw it: a downed Wraith dart, tip burrowed into the earth, the rear smoking. Aiden was whooping and circling the dart with his horse, obviously pleased that at least one Wraith had met such a messy and ignoble end, but the wrongness Rodney had felt looking at the trail was returning hundred-fold, and from the uneasy awkwardness of Radek’s mount, Rodney could tell that he felt it, too. Even Sheppard seemed to see it: his shoulders had gone rigid and still, and his horse was as anxious as its rider.
“That’ll teach ‘em!” Aiden was saying, but Sheppard dropped down to his feet and pushed the younger Zelenka away with a hard slap to his horse’s flank. “Sheppard-” Caldwell cautioned, but Sheppard ignored him and with confident, competent hands, did something to make the canopy of the dart draw back.
Inside, hunched over, was a man. A dead man. A man.
“Well, I’ll be,” said Eldon. “The Wraith sure are funny looking! Haw haw, yessir! Funny!”
“Mister Sheppard,” Radek breathed, “it is a trap, no?”
“Yes.” Sheppard turned back to his horse.
“A trap?” Rodney hated how high-pitched his voice sounded. “For us?”
“No.” Sheppard wasn’t looking at him, at any of them. “It’s a Genii murder raid.”
“Zbav nás od zlého!” Radek said. “Laura!”
“Pa,” said Aiden. Hesitating, horror-stricken.
“Yes, go!” Radek said. “I will catch up!”
Aiden took off riding the way they had come. Radek turned to him. “Pros za nás, Rodney,” he said, then followed after.
“The Zelenka place is closest,” Caldwell was telling Sheppard. “If they’re not there, we’ll come straight on.” Sheppard’s only response was to nod.
“Wait,” Rodney said, over the thundering sound of the hoof beats. He’d put the pieces together already, long before, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t believe...
But even the most cursory hint of humor and mocking was gone from Sheppard’s face. Grimly, he started stripping the gear off his horse. He pulled the grain bag off her and worked it open with his hand.
Rodney’s brain whirled around, raced off in the opposite direction. “What are you doing? There’s no time! If we leave now, we can still reach them...”
Sheppard gave him a cold look. “It’s more than forty klicks,” he said, tonelessly. “Horses can’t run on nothing. They need some grain and a little rest.”
“A little rest?’ Rodney knew he sounded hysterical, but he was, he was. “There isn’t time! If we don’t leave now they’ll be-” He saw Kate and Aiden embracing behind the house; saw Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Nick sitting by the fire, his big sturdy hand on her shoulder; saw Chuck leaning out of the top bunk to grin down at him; saw little Teyla, her braids bouncing on her back as she ran between the headstones. “I’m not waiting!”
He wheeled around without another word. He had never been an especially good horseman-he was, he knew, a perpetual disappointment to Uncle Nick-but he’d grown up out here, and he could ride quickly when the need arose. He rode quickly now. At any other time, he would have been terrified that he was going to break his neck, but as the distance fell all-too-slowly away, it was the last thing on his mind.
Rodney’s horse was named Allegra. Uncle Nick had given her to him, but in Rodney’s mind, grudgingly-with none of the pride he had shown on presenting Chuck with his mare. Rodney took good care of her because he understood the importance of treating one’s equipment well. He didn’t love her.
After about ten klicks, Allegra began to tire. Rodney patted her neck and urged her on. Twenty klicks and she had visibly slowed; spit was frothing at the corners of her mouth. “Come on, girl,” Rodney told her. “We’re almost there. Almost there. We can rest when we get there. We’re almost there.” Thirty klicks and she began to stumble and to sway; Rodney thought he saw smoke, thick and dark, rising from the horizon, but it was his imagination, it had to be. He was tired, too. So tired. He’d stayed up too late reading-why hadn’t he listened when Chuck had asked him to blow out the candle?
The world tilted under him, and at first Rodney thought that it was he who had fallen, tumbled from the saddle and into the dirt. But it was him and Allegra both, her body collapsing and him falling with it. He hit the ground hard, his head missing a rock by a matter of inches. He could see the other way it could have happened: his skull striking stone and splitting open, his brains spilling out into the dust and the mud. Instead he lay panting and winded in the dirt. Allegra was dead. Rodney pulled his leg out from under her body; by some chance, it wasn’t broken. He felt completely shattered.
He sat for a moment until his head cleared, and then he started walking.
It had gone on past midnight while he’d been riding; it was edging toward morning when he heard hoof beats. He looked back: Sheppard was bearing down on him, riding hard on his rested horse. Rodney summoned what little energy he had left and ran to meet him. “Uncle John! Uncle John! It’s Rodney, wait!”
Sheppard’s horse kicked up a cloud of dust. Rodney caught a short glimpse of his face as he barreled past. He didn’t stop; didn’t pause; didn’t acknowledge Rodney at all.
Rodney ran after him as long as he could. When the dust had cleared and he couldn’t run anymore, he saw that he’d been prophetic-or, as he always liked to claim, just plain right all along. The sky was dark with smoke. Rodney stumbled the rest of the way down into the small valley where Uncle Nick and Aunt Elizabeth’s (his) house was. The air was thick with it, the smoke. He couldn’t breathe.
Uncle John was sitting at the foot of the porch-of what had been the porch. His back was to what was left of the house. The roof had collapsed; the whole thing was black and charred and smoking. The smell...
“Teyla!” Rodney cried. “Aunt Elizabeth! Teyla!” He scrambled toward the steps.
Uncle John caught his arm and jerked him back. “You stay out!”
Rodney struggled, but as easily as his arm had come away the last time Uncle John had held it, it was not budging now. “Let go of me!” he shouted. “Teyla-”
“Nothing for you to see,” Uncle John said firmly.
“Let go!” Rodney demanded, and then he was flat on his back, the side of his face stinging. Sheppard was standing over him, his right fist held in the left.
“I said don’t go in there,” Sheppard said. He turned and walked away, and Rodney heard nothing, saw nothing, but the crunch of his boots on the ground.
The funeral was the next day. There was no time to waste. Three bodies in the ground, not five, and Rodney tried desperately to cling to that as a positive, to cling to hope. Or else be like Sheppard: block out all the images of Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Nick and Chuck (only fourteen, and Rodney didn’t know how he was supposed to look to the Ancestors for meaning in this); to block it all out and concentrate instead on Teyla and Kate. If he rode hard enough, thought long enough, he might see them again, still.
They left the funeral and took straight to the saddle, Sheppard and Aiden and Eldon and Caldwell, and a few others that the Captain had rustled up. Radek stayed behind: he was acknowledged a poor rider, and he was disinclined to leave his only daughter alone after what had happened, despite Laura’s skill with a rifle. Likewise, intimidatingly fierce though she was in normal times, Laura seemed reluctant to see any of them go. She grabbed for Rodney’s hand as he pulled himself up onto his borrowed mount. He couldn’t look at her, but he felt the cool press of her fingers, the squeeze.
Then they rode, and they rode, and they rode, and Rodney felt his fingers go numb and his mind go number.
On the afternoon of the second day, on the planet Hoff, they found a hastily dug grave. The disturbed dirt had been weighed down, somewhat sloppily, with stones. Sheppard whistled when he saw it. “Good on Nick,” he said, mouth a twisted grin. He looked at Caldwell. “I believe that’s seven we can score for my brother?”
Aiden scrambled down off his horse and began tossing the rocks aside. Rodney felt his mouth stutter into motion. “What are you doing?” On some intrinsic level, he was disturbed by the casual desecration of a grave.
“He’s making sure,” Caldwell said: and indeed, there was a Genii corpse laid out. Rodney recognized the distinctive lines of paint on the dead man’s arms, the odd combination of savage clothing and sophisticated weaponry. The remnants, Rodney thought, of a once great society destroyed by the Wraith. As the war with the Terrans had almost destroyed the Lanteans-as the Wraith could destroy them still.
Rodney did not present this theory to Uncle John.
He wouldn’t have had the opportunity, because one of the other riders was already presenting his. “I don’t like this,” Kavanagh said, doffing his hat and wiping his sweaty brow. “Genii on a raid usually hide their dead so we can’t know how many they’ve lost. If they don’t care about us knowing, then it stands to reason that they don’t care about us following-or catching them, either!”
Caldwell took a swig from his canteen. “You can back out any time, Kavanagh.”
“Now, I didn’t say that-” Kavanagh started, but his protest was drowned out by an echoing shot, and then another.
Sheppard was already packing away his pistol by the time Rodney’s eyes caught up with him. But everyone could see what he had done.
“Are you n-” With effort, Rodney bit back the word. “What good does that do?”
“None, by what you believe,” Sheppard said. He gave a casual shrug and remounted his horse. “But the Genii have legends-without their eyes they can’t see the Ancestors to guide them, they have to wander forever through the spirit lands.” Sheppard’s horse stirred into motion. “Maybe if she’d lived, your grandmother would have told you something about that.”
That night in front of the fire, Aiden hunkered down next to Rodney, who was rubbing and warming his sore hands. Rodney looked up, surprised. They were about the same age-Aiden was only a few years older-and they’d grown up together, known each other almost all their lives. But they’d never been friends.
Now Aiden turned to him and whispered, “She’s alive, isn’t she? She’s gotta be alive. If she’s alive I’ll make it up to her, I’ll make her happy, make her forget. But she’s just gotta be alive...”
Rodney didn’t know what to say. He thought of Kate, who was friendly and open and understanding-and too trusting. He thought about Teyla.
He opened his mouth to say something, some meaningless reassurance that he knew would sound false, but then a bedroll connected none-too-gently with the back of his head and he literally bit his tongue.
“Get some rest,” Sheppard said.
He turned and stalked off. Rodney watched him over his shoulder. He thought maybe Sheppard was looking at something, maybe a miniature. Or maybe he was just staring into space.
Rodney looked up at the stars. He used to try to map them, match up what he saw from the ground on Athos to the other few worlds he knew. This sky looked completely different. He wondered what sky he’d be staring out at tomorrow.
They were following them from world to world, Ring to Ring. Radek had long since shown Aiden how to uncover the last sequence dialed, and Sheppard knew the basic method, too. But Rodney was better and faster than both of them, and his skill with the Ancestors’ gifts was one of the only things that kept him from feeling completely useless.
On Doranda, Rodney had just finished making sure that the Genii hadn’t dialed immediately out again when Caldwell pulled them in to talk strategy. Sheppard stood on the edge of the circle, turned almost fully away, washing the dust out of his mouth. Rodney pulled his eyes from the undulations of Sheppard’s throat and instead concentrated on Caldwell.
“I’m sick of being led around in circles,” Caldwell was saying. “But they made a mistake coming here, and I say we take advantage of it. Rather than following after them and not catching up and just being led ‘round back to the Ring, still behind ‘em, I say we take cover behind those rocks there and lay in wait for them. They have to come back sooner or later, and if I’m not mistaken this planet gets real cold come nightfall, so it’s gonna be sooner.”
“Damn right it is.” Sheppard was laughing to himself.
Caldwell turned and glared at him. “You got a problem with my plan, Sheppard?”
Sheppard scratched absently at the side of his head. He was the only one not wearing a hat-and the only one whose hair wasn’t matted down by grime and sweat. “How many Genii do you think were in that raiding party?”
Caldwell stared him down. “You’re saying we’re outnumbered? We’re outnumbered riding after them, too. I don’t see how setting up to take them down on our own terms changes that.”
Rodney found he was nodding. He was scared to face the Genii-terrified, even-but he wanted to; he wanted the confrontation, wanted to look the people who had murdered his family in the eye and- He wanted Teyla and Kate back.
Caldwell’s plan seemed smarter, and more expedient. “That makes sense to me,” Rodney said suddenly, loudly. “Logically-”
Sheppard scoffed. “Is the quarter-breed gonna lecture me about Genii logic?”
It was a dismissal. Sheppard’s next words were directed at Caldwell, not at Rodney. “You don’t know anything about it. Genii have this down to an art. It’s the only thing they still do well, and if we lay a trap for them, I guarantee they’re gonna spring one on us. They know we’re following, and if they get wind of the fact we’ve stopped, they’re gonna send back enough men to put us in the ground while the girls stay tucked away on the far side of this ugly rock. No, the only thing to do is keep following and wait for them to slip up.” Sheppard’s gaze was even. “I can wait a long, long time.”
When Rodney got set in an idea, he didn’t like to change his mind, was unlikely to have it changed. But already he could feel the days of rough riding and hard living having an effect: he could suddenly see the thing from a world of different angles. Furthermore, he was learning that logic didn’t mean much out here, barely anything in the face of experience. He felt his direction sway...or maybe that was just weariness.
Caldwell was much sturdier. “How long, Sheppard?” he asked. “Weeks? Months? Years? Until their captors have set their hooks in and-”
“Fine,” Sheppard ground out-loud enough that some of the horses stamped, whinnying and stepping back. “I take it you’re giving me an order, then?”
Caldwell’s nod was firm and decisive. “Go set up behind those rocks over there.” And when Sheppard still didn’t move, save the tightening of his hand around his horse’s reins, Caldwell growled, “And that is an order, Sheppard!”
“Yes, sir.” Silky smile, with jagged teeth underneath. “But if you’re wrong, Captain Caldwell, don’t ever give me another!”
True to its definition, the ambush was sudden and took them completely by surprise. Rodney was crouched next to Eldon, doing his best to hold still and keep his gun in position and his eyes focused. He was also doing all he could to keep Eldon quiet, which mostly consisted of hissing, “Shh!” and “Hush it!” and “Would you shut up?” Then there was-nothing, no sound, no warning, but suddenly Sheppard was pushing his head down and the rock in front of him was splintering, catching him across the forehead. Sheppard had spun around and was firing his gun. Rodney realized that he’d dropped his. He scrambled for it in the dirt.
Caldwell had turned and was firing, too. “How the hell did they get behind us?”
Rodney was wondering the same thing. He knew Markham had been on lookout at their six...and he knew, catching sight of the heat in Sheppard’s eyes, that Markham had seen and heard absolutely nothing, right up until the moment when he’d stopped hearing and seeing for good.
Rodney’s hand closed on his gun, but his palms were sweaty and his eyes were stinging with blood and dust. They were outnumbered and worse, they were now pressed up against the rock they’d been planning to use as a shield. There was a pained cry and Rodney saw a blurry shape slump backward against the stone; he thought it might be Kavanagh. He wondered if it would be better or worse for Kate and Teyla if they all died.
He could see Sheppard, standing up straight and firing away like he knew he could hit every target, like he didn’t think he stood a chance of getting hit himself, or just plain didn’t care. Sheppard certainly wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t paying him any attention at all, but Rodney could feel his judgment anyway: waves of it. Sheppard was not impressed. Even Eldon was aiming and shooting with impressive skill; Rodney wiped the blood and his hair out of his eyes and sighted as best he could down the barrel of the gun.
His shot went wide-pathetically so-but he had the excuse of hearing Caldwell shout “Rodney!” at the last second, startling him. “Get to the Ring! Dial out! Dial home!”
To his surprise, Rodney almost answered, “No!” But there was blood in his eyes and Kavanagh was moaning and holding his gushing thigh. And they weren’t doing his sisters any good like this.
He scrambled up over the rock, sure that at any moment he was going to take a bullet to the head. (Or-worse, more humiliating-the ass.) But he suffered no further injury besides scrapes to his hands as they fumbled. The Ring activated, blasting blue, and then Aiden was shoving the injured Kavanagh into his arms and yelling at him to go through. Aiden and Caldwell and Eldon were right behind him.
Sheppard was last. When he tumbled out on the other side, he was still firing.
Markham was dead. Caldwell had taken a bullet to the shoulder, and it wasn’t certain yet whether Kavanagh was going to keep the leg. Worse, they had lost their best and maybe only chance of finding Kate and Teyla.
“I’m going to keep looking,” Sheppard said.
“I have to find Kate,” Aiden insisted.
Rodney got on his horse-his third in almost as few days. He’d given up on putting answers to this, or explanations. But he hadn’t given up.
Caldwell waved to them from his bed-an almost salute. All he said was, “Good luck.”
It did seem that luck was with them, for once: back on Doranda, eerily quiet now after the noise of the fight, with only scuff marks in the dirt to show that a struggle had even taken place, Rodney dialed the last outgoing address. They stepped back through the swirling blue passage to discover a trail leading away from the ring on the other side, perfectly preserved. Rodney was instantly suspicious. But Aiden looked pleased and John looked determined, so they set off. The suns were a pair of hot white circles in the sky. The mesas were blood red.
The trail led them close to one of the cliffs, then along its side, in its shadow. Rodney looked up nervously, convinced that Genii were waiting for them, ready to leap down onto their backs and slit their throats. But nothing swooped down from above; there weren’t even any birds.
They rode on into the afternoon. Rodney’s brain had slipped into its most comfortable holding pattern-running calculations, declining Ancient-when suddenly Sheppard stopped, slid off his horse. Squatting above the dusty ground, “The trail splits here,” he said. He pointed to a passageway, a jagged, narrow cut in the rock face. “A group of ‘em broke off, rode through the passage, The rest continued around. You follow the main bunch,” he told Rodney and Aiden, without really looking at them at all. “I’ll meet you on the other side.”
“You want us to split up?” Rodney was incredulous. “What, do you want to make it easier for them to pick us off?”
Sheppard looked at him for several long seconds, rocking back and forth on his heels. His long grey duster trailed along the ground.
“Thought we got free of the whining when we got rid of Kavanagh,” he said finally. He stared Rodney in the face. “I don’t need you here.”
Rodney wanted to throttle him. He didn’t even care that he’d lose. But Aiden put a restraining hand on his arm, and with an impressive amount of single-mindedness said, “The sooner we stop arguing, the sooner we can find Kate.”
Sheppard didn’t respond, but then, he wasn’t really listening to them anyway-he’d made it very clear that he didn’t care what they did. He got back on his horse and stood watching, waiting, at the entrance to the canyon. It was almost like he was guarding it. He stood there until grumbling, Rodney got on his horse, and he and Aiden rode away.
It didn’t make any sense. Sheppard had made them take the longer route, but he wasn’t there when they rounded the far side of the butte. Rodney and Aiden exchanged nervous glances. “You think he ran into trouble?” Aiden asked.
“I don’t know,” Rodney said, thinking, Bastard’s probably gotten himself killed and left us here to die! “I don’t like it.” It took him a moment to work up the courage, but when he did say, “We should go in after him,” he managed it with only the slightest shake.
Aiden, however, shook his head. “Sheppard said to wait for him here.”
Rodney shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “So? When did we ever agree to just blindly follow his orders?”
Aiden’s mouth was flat and firm. Following Sheppard blindly had obviously been his strategy from the beginning.
Letting out a frustrated huff, Rodney swung himself down to the ground. He might not like the situation, but he wasn’t going into the canyon alone, that was for sure. So instead he unstrapped the bag of grain and set about feeding his horse. It was good for her to have the rest; that was a mistake that was never going to be repeated.
His gear had been checked twice over when he saw Aiden’s head turn, and a moment later, Sheppard come riding out of the canyon. He halted, abrupt and awkward, a few feet away from them, and with a surprising lack of grace tumbled to the ground. His knees sank into the sandy soil, and his hands, raking through. Rodney opened his mouth, worried and surprised, but Sheppard looked unhurt. His brow, however, was damp with sweat, and his shoulders were vibrating, so slightly that Rodney felt it more than saw.
“What happened?” Aiden asked. “Why’d they break off?”
Sheppard didn’t say anything. Rodney could tell that this was a silence different to Sheppard’s usual snubs-he wasn’t making a point, or keeping quiet to make those around him look the fool. He was just...quiet.
“Was there water in that canyon?” Aiden asked. He sounded hopeful-but at the hope of Sheppard snapping out of it or the prospect of a cool drink, Rodney couldn’t tell.
“Uncle John,” Rodney said, the old title now uncomfortable and awkward in his mouth. “Are you all right?”
“Huh?” Sheppard said, looking distant and utterly lost. Then suddenly his gaze sharpened, his eyes focused. “Sure I’m all right,” he said. Almost easy again.
But Rodney’s racing mind had already arrived at its destination. “Your coat’s gone,” he said. It felt like a revelation. But he couldn’t take it any farther, couldn’t decipher what it meant.
“Must have left it behind,” Sheppard muttered. He got to his feet, then swung back onto his horse, his movements fluid again. “I’m not going back for it.” He dug in his heels. “C’mon.”
Rodney didn’t want to let it lie, but Aiden was already trotting off after Sheppard, eager and determined, as if nothing had happened. Casting one glance back at the dark mouth of the canyon, Rodney followed.
Rodney had an old Athosian lighter that he had fixed; he had the design pretty well figured out, and he’d been building another out of some material that Radek had given him, planning to give this one to Teyla once he was finished. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but counting back the days, Rodney realized that it was just over a week. He’d dreamt about getting away from the ranch, Rodney thought bitterly, watching the campfire flare up; well, he’d certainly gotten that wish.
He turned his head and watched as Sheppard’s long-fingered hands moved over the ropes, confident even in the dim light, securing the horses. Night had come on quickly. Rodney stared for a moment at the inky black sky, then jerked upward when he heard the rapid approach of hooves.
It was just Aiden, coming back from patrol, but it was Aiden riding roughly, sloppily. He tumbled off his mount on wobbly legs, and started speaking far too loudly and with a speediness that would rival Rodney at his best. “I saw her! I saw Kate!”
Rodney’s mouth opened in surprise, his heart making a hopeful leap in his chest. Beside him he felt Sheppard shift, slow and unexcited.
“They’re camped about two miles over, down in the valley.” Aiden took a gasping swig of water. “I saw their smoke, so I went in low and peeked over, and there they were, right below me!”
“Did you see Teyla?” Rodney asked, his fingers clenched tight around the lighter’s frame.
“No,” Aiden said, apologetic for the space of a syllable before getting excited again. “But I saw Kate all right! She was wearing that white dress...”
“What you saw wasn’t Kate,” Sheppard said.
Aiden reeled on him, eyes wide and dark and frightening. “It was, I tell you!”
Sheppard stared him down. When he spoke, his voice was expressionless, flat.
“What you saw was a Genii armsman wearing Kate’s dress.”
Sheppard took a breath, but that was it, that was all. “I found Kate back in the canyon,” he said. “I wrapped her in my coat and I buried her with my own hands. I didn’t tell you because...”
He trailed off then, unable to voice or maybe even think of a reason. But neither Rodney nor Aiden was protesting. Rodney felt like he wasn’t going to manage saying anything for a long while.
In fact, Aiden spoke first. His face turned away so that Rodney couldn’t see him, “Was she...?” he asked. “Did they...?”
Sheppard burst into motion so fast that Rodney almost didn’t catch the movement. His hands were clenched into fists, one slightly raised; for a second Rodney thought that he was going to hit somebody.
“What do you want me to do, draw you a picture? Don’t ever ask me!” He sank back onto his heels, shaking. Within the space of a few more heaves of his chest, the emotion had gone out of his face.
Aiden stared at him. Then he turned and his gaze encompassed Rodney, too. The light of the fire cast half his face in brightness and threw the other half into shadow. Rodney took an involuntary step back.
There was a pause in which they all stood, not quite looking at each other; finally, Rodney hazarded a shaky, painful breath. Teyla, he was going to say, there’s still...
When Aiden broke for the horses, he was moving faster than Sheppard had. He swung up onto his mount and spurred her away before Rodney could get out more than a startled, “Aiden!”
Sheppard was moving swiftly, undoing his careful knot work, but even as they urged their horses into a gallop Rodney knew that it wasn’t going to be enough. They saw Aiden pause briefly, a dark shadow against the light from the Genii fire; then he charged into the camp, yelling.
The shots were loud, but the silence that followed was even louder.
When Rodney woke in the morning, it was only the two of them. And in the weeks and months that followed, it was only the two of them, and the increasingly faint trail, and the tiny flicker of hope that Rodney kept and held and sheltered from the cruel wind and Sheppard’s colder stare. Sometimes, there was something in his eyes that made Rodney wonder if they were even searching for the same thing.
But whatever they were looking for, they both lost it together, coming through the Ring onto a planet busy with traders. Whatever address the Genii had dialed had been lost many times over in the shuffle. Rodney looked down at the Ancient symbols, frustrated and furious, and the people who pushed past on their way to the market took one look at his expression and laughed.
Sheppard wasn’t laughing. He stood off to the side, waiting for Rodney to join him. Rodney hesitated, but eventually he walked over, his head held high.
“We’re not giving up,” he said, pleased that it was almost entirely not a question.
“No,” Sheppard said. And he touched Rodney’s shoulder briefly as Rodney punched in the sequence to take them home.
Continued in Part II