Synopsis: A journey into the jungle in search of a treatment for the Hoffan virus with Carson Beckett and Sheppard's team becomes one of life-and-death for Sheppard. Sure, there's Shep whump, but as usual, it's equal opportunity whump! Written for this year's SGA Genficathon. The genre was team, the prompt was forgiveness.
A/N: Part of this story came to me after reading about the eruption of a volcano in the Pacific in the early 1800s. Those poor people had to deal with earthquakes, a typhoon and the eruption itself... talk about a bad day! Anyway, it got me thinking of putting Team Sheppard into a situation like that and this is the result! Hope you enjoy it!
Thanks: So many people had helped me with this story in the last six weeks and I am forever grateful to Teprac S, Zinny Do, Elspeth, and Michelle for their assistance. You are amazing! That said, I must point out that any mistakes found in this tale are all mine.
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language
word count: 58,500
"Ring of Fire"
(set after the end of Season Five)
by ValleyA
Chapter One
There was something vibrant in the rich, moist scent of a jungle that screamed diversity and vitality. A light breeze wafted its pungent scent toward John Sheppard, filling his nostrils. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment, processing its scents, then let it out slowly, because even with all the life teeming in the inner depths of the tropical rainforest, death was ever present. It was layered in with everything else, something almost hidden behind the vast variety of aromas.
A moment later, they passed the rotting carcass of some beast a few feet from their trail. The jungle was effectively reclaiming its remains, converting the flesh and bones of a once living thing back into a primordial stew, death birthing life. Something new would grow and flourish until it in turn took its place at the end of circle of life.
Siska Letroe was the guide for Sheppard and his team as they journeyed through the humid jungle on the tropical isle of Aertinosha on planet MX2-L57. In between pointing out the flora and fauna as they hiked, Siska also found time for an extended conversation with Dr. Carson Beckett. The two walked about ten feet ahead of John, following a barely recognizable trail where the shrubs, vines, ferns and other vegetation had already been cut back, but was quickly losing ground. Teyla Emmagan, Dr. Rodney McKay and Ronon Dex followed closely behind him.
John reached down and lifted a broken stem of a brilliant purple and blue orchid-like flower the size of two fists as it lay on the mat of the dead vegetation. Something must have caused it to fall from the canopy far overhead. John heard a noise above him and looked up to see a small monkey, its coat a vibrant yellow and black, and it began screeching at him in irritation.
John didn't bother to say anything to the animal, where he normally would have stood and chatted with it just for the hell of it. Instead, he saw several leaves that extended onto the trail itself were broken, crushed or torn, something too extensive to be done by Siska and Carson as they passed through moments ahead of him. A group of people had been this way and recently. He glanced back at Ronon and Ronon nodded in acknowledgment. He'd seen the same signs, too.
"Say, Siska," John called out. "I thought we were going to a pretty remote area."
Siska nodded. "Yes, there is a village fairly close to us, but these trails are rarely used," he said, then paused, his hand going to the firearm holstered on his hip, "though they should have been far more overgrown than they are now."
John nodded back at him. "It's probably nothing," he said quietly, knowing without looking at his team that they were on the alert for trouble.
Siska kept his hand on his holster as he started forward again. Letroe was a short man, no more than four foot six inches tall, looking especially minute whenever he stood beside Ronon – then again, most people looked minute in comparison to Ronon. Siska's skin was the color of dark chocolate, a characteristic typical of so many of the local population.
He had short, graying, wiry hair and a slight limp of his left leg, but his eyes sparkled like black obsidian reflecting sunlight and he had a smile that rarely left his lips. His attire consisted of dark green khaki pants and shirt with the sleeves halfway rolled up his arms, an old beat up pair of boots, and a black cloth cap on his head that was almost like beret, except it hung down more around the ears.
His ample belly hung over his belt, but he carried his weight well, even with the woven leather pack he had on his back – though Siska's pack was much smaller than the ones the Atlantis team wore, so maybe that was why he moved with vitality that belied his age.
Packing full gear in climates like this was a great way to lose weight, John decided, at least water weight. No, give him the Antarctic any day compared to this.
It was obvious Siska was used to the hot, humid clime and he seemed to pass through the jungle with relative ease, at least more easily than John's team did, with the possible exception of Ronon. John could hear Rodney huffing and puffing behind him, then Rodney raised a hand and flopped in John's direction. "Have I ever told you just how much I hate jungles?"
John didn't bother to look back at McKay. "Maybe once or twice. Come on, McKay, get over it. We're gonna be here for at least a day, maybe two. Get it out of your system and give me some peace and quiet."
"Oh, easy for you to say. You're like Frank Buck, that famous hunter in the 1920s in Burma and Indonesia and such. Me, I have... issues with jungles, big issues with jungles, issues that are never going to change, not as long as I live, so you better get over it."
John gave him a slight shrug. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."
Despite what McKay had said about his jungle prowess, they'd been hiking for several hours and John felt practically drained of energy. He pulled his canteen from his belt, took a quick swig and put it away without slowing his pace. It had been a long day, and they still hadn't arrived at their destination yet.
Siska laughed at something Carson had said and he slapped Carson on the back as his laughter continued.
Just how they had come all the way from a busy city to the depths of a jungle was a progression of accidents and fate. John's team was asked to bring Carson some much needed supplies to a planet particularly hard hit by Michael's mutated Hoffan virus, which left a high death toll in its wake.
The visit allowed the team a little time to catch up with Beckett, something they all had looked forward to. When they were alone together, Carson recounted his ongoing battle in treating those afflicted with the disease. The dark circles under his eyes and pale skin were a visual testimony to his many months of nonstop work.
Now, on this rain forest trek, there was renewed hope sparkling in Carson's bright blue eyes, and that hope was the reason they were there in the jungle. They'd flown most of the distance from the capital city of Nampor to the outer edge of the rainforest in the jumper, then had been on foot ever since.
The sun was nearly down, but luckily they were almost to their destination. John hoped the temperature would drop after sunset, but he knew better. Still, it was a nice thought that he let linger as his imagination brought forth images of a pristine mountainside of white untouched snow, which was a pretty good trick considering his uniform was pretty much soaked with sweat.
He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead and nodded when Carson glanced back his way. Carson continued his conversation with Siska, asking the man an endless stream of questions about the area, the people, and the mammoth volcano that loomed above them seen in glimpses through breaks in the jungle canopy. Yeah, Carson was a talker, and it seemed so was Siska.
At first, the afternoon rain was just a few scattered drops, but soon it began to fall more heavily. Behind him, John heard McKay groan and say, "Of course, it's time for more rain... how many times a day does it have to rain here? And why is it that we always have to park the jumper so damned far away from where we need to go?"
It was the fifth time McKay had asked that string of questions since they had started their trek several hours before and John had long since given up the notion that they were rhetorical.
"Maybe it's because we are in the middle of a huge tropical rainforest that prevents nearby jumper access," John said without looking back.
Rodney went silent for a few steps, then looked down at the scanner in his hand. "That storm front is still moving in and will probably become at least a Class Three typhoon by the time it hits land. It's going to be huge. The recent seismic activity, along with a corresponding increase in volcanic gases, and a marked buildup in the main dome of Mt Chumachu since the last time we were here all indicate a major – "
"Rodney. Stop. Freaking. Out," John said calmly. "We have plenty of time before the storm hits to do what we need to do and Siska's already told us this volcano has been consistently active for tens of thousands of years. Just take a deep breath and relax."
McKay nodded, doing something to his scanner before he sighed and gestured in John's direction with his hand holding the device. "You know how I get around natural disasters and the way they always reach a critical point right when we pass near one.... I – I just thought – "
Without warning, the monkey overhead swooped down as it clung to a vine, and tore Rodney's scanner from his outstretched hand, and then swung away. It stopped at another tree and scurried up a few branches. It let loose a long peal of laughter, pointing at McKay as it went.
"Hey, you damned little flying weasel! Who do you think you are? Cheetah, for Pete's sake! Well, I'm not Tarzan, so give me back my damn scanner!"
Rodney went to the tree where the monkey was now perched and jumped up a couple of times in an attempt to snag back the scanner that the monkey was holding tantalizingly low in an apparent attempt to further infuriate McKay.
The monkey hissed and dropped down another branch, growing bolder, still screeching at Rodney, who was getting more enraged by the second. "Oh, you think it's funny that you stole my scanner, huh? Well, just how funny will it be when I shoot you?" he asked as he pulled his sidearm.
McKay aimed his weapon at the monkey, then glanced back toward the others, as if he just remembered they were around. He frowned, more than a little chagrined that he'd been caught arguing with a monkey and holstered his handgun again.
"What? He stole my equipment – no, I should rephrase that, he stole some very valuable Ancient equipment that cannot easily be replaced!"
John walked up to McKay's side. "Rodney, the more you react, the more the monkey will tease you. Just ignore it and it will probably lose interest in the damned thing."
Rodney paused in an apparent attempt to control his emotions, then he took a deep breath before he looked up at the sky. His tone was calmer, but there was still a sharp edge of anger cutting through it. "Very well, you get the scanner back then... "
Carson shook his head and let out a long sigh before glancing over at Siska. "You say we're almost there?"
Siska nodded and said, "Yes, Osuro's hut is just a short distance away, though it might be better if you wait here while I go to speak to him first, then you can join us."
The comment drew John's attention away from McKay. He turned to face Siska. "So this guy's a little skittish?" John asked, trying to get a better idea of what they would be walking into.
Siska grunted. "You might say that. Poor Os lives in his own little world, one without much interaction with the local residents. He doesn't trust people easily, especially since his return from the Loa several years ago. He's been through some very hard times.
Teyla asked, "The Loa, that is what you called the Fire people?"
Siska nodded, then paused, revealing the first hint of sadness John had seen in the man since he met him. "I remember back before the incident, Os was a happy man. He had a family and he worked hard to provide for them. We used to come up here hunting after harvest each year. I even saved his life once not far from here. My people believe once you save the life of a man, he is your responsibility for the rest of his life. I've tried to look out for him, but my friend is not the same man I once knew."
Siska rubbed the back of his neck. "Osuro's family tried to help him after he came back from the forbidden lands, but he was so changed, so very different than the way he used to be. He wound up pushing everyone, all of his friends and family, away except me with his strange ways. Eventually, he moved out here to this remote location, basically living like a hermit. I try to visit him twice a year to make sure he's got enough supplies and that he's healthy and well. It's the least I can do for an old friend."
John's head jerked up when he heard loud shouts and cursing coming from ahead of them on the trail. It didn't sound friendly at all. The little yellow and black monkey dropped the scanner and vanished from overhead in a long screech of fear. John caught it and pressed it into Rodney's hand, who made noises of exasperation as John walked away from him.
"Coward!" McKay cried out to the monkey as he got a better grip on the scanner.
John ignored him as he moved in front of Siska and Carson to take a defensive position in case of attack. Siska put a hand on John's arm, his eyes wide with concern as he pointed and exclaimed, "That's Os yelling!"
John took off running, knowing Teyla and Ronon were at his heels.
The shouting continued, becoming angrier and more extended. Now, John could make out the words. "I said get out of here now! Leave me alone! I'll send the voices after you if you don't leave me alone right now! Don't – don't make me hurt you!"
As John came into the clearing with Osuro's hut, he saw a short but wiry old man dressed in a loose, light-colored tunic and shorts, waving a huge club menacingly at three teenage boys. The teens were dressed in clothes more similar to what Siska was wearing. They laughed as they danced around him, taunting Osuro by picking up objects he had in front of his hut, then dangling them out of arm's reach like McKay's monkey had just done or tossing them away.
"What? Kepou, are you going to do the psychic touch on us, too? Ooh, I'm scared," the tallest of the teens called out, "Oh wait, Kepou, you can't do that, because all you know how to do is tell stories about the Fire people and their psychic touch, not do the things they can do!"
The second teen, who probably weighed more than the other two boys combined, spoke up next, "Yeah, and how the Loa could come kill us all in our sleep if they really wanted to! Ha, Kepou, I don't even think the Fire people really exist! Stupid, crazy stories from a stupid, crazy old man!"
The man John assumed was Osuro, though the boys continued to call him Kepou, wielded the club as if he was versed in using it, but seemed to be holding himself back. His eyes were wide with rage and the words he spat out conveyed that fury. "You go to the forbidden lands and you'll find out firsthand just how real the Loa are – "
He stopped in mid-sentence, a strange cast coming over his expression and dread replaced the anger and the old man put a hand to his forehead as he said, "No, don't go! If you go to the forbidden lands, you'll die. All three of you. Dead, dead, dead. Nothing can stop the dead."
The last teen, the smallest of the three, but with a mean, hard cast to his expression, kicked at Osuro's campfire, knocking the meat Osuro had been roasting down into the flames. He laughed with a bitter snarl. "I don't believe you lived with the Fire people, because if you had, Chumachu would have erupted, sweeping this entire island into the sea with its lava flows. No, Kepou, you're just a stupid old man who likes to make up stories!"
The tall one took a swipe at the side of Osuro's hut, ripping away the dried vegetation that served to insulate Osuro's hut from the elements. The heavy one picked up some firewood to use as his own club and made threatening steps toward Osuro. That was all John could tolerate.
"HEY!" John said as he approached the boys, his P90 held loosely in his hands, though it could be brought up and fired with very little effort. He gestured toward the trail. "You boys don't seem to know how to play nice. I think you better move on out of here before somebody gets hurt."
When the teens didn't move away right away, John advanced on them with Ronon and Teyla at his back.
"Didn't you hear him? He said get out of here!" Ronon yelled with his blaster in one hand, using that tone of his that could scare any sane man into running for the hills. These boys were no exception. They took off at a dead run.
When John glanced at Osuro again, the old man was on his knees trying to get his roast out of the fire. Ronon was the closest. He put away his blaster and pulled out two knives, using them to spear the roast at both ends to lift it away from the flames and back onto the spit Osuro had made.
Osuro nodded appreciatively, then glanced in the direction the boys had gone, his club now lying in front of his knees. He squeezed his eyes closed, then looked up at the sky and started muttering, "I know, I know, but you should have warned me! I was making dinner! I can't be on the lookout all the time!"
The old man stared at the meat, brushing his fingers carefully across the roast to dust away the bits of charcoal and ash still clinging to its blackened exterior. John's gaze went up to the point in the sky above them that Osuro had been looking at, then to the others in confusion.
Siska didn't act as if anything strange had happened. He just smiled broadly as he approached Osuro in a slow amble and said, "Os, it is me, Siska, coming for a visit."
Osuro shook his head, still muttering, but in a tone so low John couldn't understand his words. The old man stood from the campfire with the club now in his hand again, still shaking his head as if lost in some internal debate. He fiddled with a large leather and obsidian pendant he wore around his neck as if that helped to relieve his anxiety.
McKay stared at him for moment, then pointed at him as he turned back toward the others. "Is that guy all there?" he asked, tapping his forehead to accentuate what he was referring to.
John glared at Rodney. Obviously, Rodney hadn't been paying attention to the story Siska had just told. Then again, even if he had listened to the story, tact had never been Rodney's strong point.
Siska simply nodded and said in a low tone, "I said he wasn't the same man he once was. He's still agitated by those kids. It will pass. Let me talk to him."
"Os?" Siska stepped closer, his hands up in a calming way.
The old man's head popped up and he glanced around warily, ready to defend himself if need be. He raised the club and slowly turned in a circle around him, looking for the danger he'd sensed, but stopped when Siska said to him, "Osuro, you would attack the man who saved your life so long ago?"
"It is not the season for your visit yet... " Osuro said with decided bewilderment as he recognized him, then he relaxed, the hand with the club dropping down. "Siska, it is good to see you again – "
Then he saw the others, as if for the first time, and his wary demeanor returned as he raised the club, holding it menacingly between both hands. Siska noticed the shift, too, because he put out his hands out again and said, "Os, these are trading friends of mine from the city. They want to talk to you."
Osuro's puzzled expression grew more intense. "You – you brought them here... to me? For what purpose?"
"A very important purpose – a purpose that will save the lives of countless people on our world and many worlds beyond it."
The veil of confusion that had hung over Osuro's expression lifted and he eyed his visitors much more closely. Finally, he spoke, "They have come a very long way just to talk. I wonder what would make me so important to them." He paused, glancing around as if he was listening to different voices. "Shush, I know – I know they are strangers and strangers can't be trusted, but Siska is my friend. My only friend. I must hear him out."
Siska smiled and nodded. "Yes, you are my friend, too, Os, and you've been a good friend for a very long time. I would not come if it wasn't important. You have knowledge that may interest these people. Please allow me introduce you to them."
He turned toward John. "This is Colonel John Sheppard. He's their commander."
John put out a hand. "Pleased to meet you, Osuro."
Osuro's expression darkened. "Call me Kepou or don't call me anything at all."
"Os," Siska said, shaking his head. "Don't do that to yourself. Your name is Osuro. That is what they should call you."
"What? Kepou is the name the villagers have called me for several years. After so long, it is what I am."
John looked at Siska, puzzled. Siska sighed and said, "Kepou means crazy man in our old tongue." Siska shook his head again. "Do not let the villag– "
"No, Siska, you can call me Os or Osuro, but you are the only one!" he said angrily. "That old life is dead to me now. Osuro only lives in your heart."
Osuro looked up at the sky, shook his head, and began to pace. He fiddled with his pendant again, as if soothed him in some way. Siska put a hand on Osuro's shoulder to stop him. "Fine, they can call you Kepou, but I don't like it."
Osuro's gaze darted overhead and then he turned to Siska, staring at him in an odd way, cocking his head one way, then another. "Yes, I can see your displeasure, my old friend, radiating off of you like heat off of lava, but there is no need for it."
Siska took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he turned toward the others. "Let me finish the introductions. This beautiful woman's name is Teyla Emmagan. Our warrior friend's name is Ronon Dex. This fine gentleman is Doctor McKay. And last, Doctor Carson Beckett."
The apprehensive scowl that had lingered on Osuro's expression didn't change with the introductions, he just nodded in their directions, but it didn't stop Carson from reaching into his backpack as he stepped forward to reveal a clear plastic specimen bag with a gnarled gray root in it.
"I would like very much to talk to you about the origin and location of this root you gave to Siska," Carson said excitedly, anticipation brightening his features.
Siska frowned and shook his head, trying to stop Carson from continuing, but it was too late. Osuro turned his head to one side to see what was in the bag, and then his eyes widened in disbelief and he backed away.
"What? Why?" he shouted to Siska in betrayal, then he whirled, pointing a finger in the air above them as he continued, "Shush, I said! Yes, I can see the dragon root, I am not blind! The gods will be angry. The Loa will be angrier. Chumachu will explode with fire and lava for my transgression." He turned back to Siska and said, "Oh, my old friend, what have you done?"
Siska put up a hand. "Relax, Os. It is not as dire as you say. This doctor, who is a very good and highly trained physician, was at my home when he saw me using it to save the life of Marlt, my youngest son, in the way you taught me and he was amazed by its curative properties."
Osuro glowered and turned, taking several steps away from them before his anger mushroomed and he stormed back to Siska. John worried that the man might actually attack Siska with the club he had raised as he moved, but Siska didn't flinch.
"I told you to never show the root to anyone! I told you! I trusted you! Is this how you treat an old friend?"
Siska didn't back away. "I know, I know, but Osuro, if it can save lives the way this doctor says it can, it is worth examining more closely. And it involves more than just the lives on our world, but lives throughout the galaxy against the lung scourge, against the... the..."
He glanced over at Carson who filled in the blank for him, "Hoffan virus."
"Yes, against the Hoffan virus, the disease we call the lung scourge, that has killed thousands on our world and beyond."
"NO!" Osuro shouted, then backed off. He paced for another moment. His fingers running over the smooth surface of his pendant. "I gave the dragon root to you in gratitude for saving my life. It was not meant for others."
"But – "
"NO!"
There was a long, awkward moment where no one said anything, then John sniffed at the air. "The meat roasting there on that spit smells pretty good. Would you mind sharing it with a few very hungry strangers while we talk about this a little more?"
Osuro shook his head, his angry frown growing more pronounced than John thought possible. The old man ran his hands over his scalp and looked up at the sky, as if searching for the answer to John's question. Finally, he threw both hands into the air and exclaimed, "What am I supposed to do now?"
Osuro stood, staring transfixed at the sky, until Siska patted him on the back and smiled. "Tell the voices to calm down and allow us to make dinner. After we eat, we will talk. I will answer your questions, and the ones I can't, perhaps Doctor Beckett, Colonel Sheppard or Doctor McKay can answer for you."
Not really looking like he wanted to agree, Osuro nodded.
As they busied themselves with the task of preparing the food, John's gaze darted back and forth between Siska and Osuro. They were about as opposite in appearance as was possible with Siska's plump belly and Os's lean torso.
The difference in behavior was more pronounced between the two men. Osuro's face seemed permanently frozen into a deep frown, his muscles pulled taut with anger... and maybe fear? As if to counter it, there was Siska's ever-present smile and sparkling eyes.
John made a few attempts at conversation, but Osuro only stared straight ahead or at Siska or intently at the sky above them, as if listening to conversations only he could hear. Osuro's three-inch wide round, leather and obsidian pendant seemed to ground him and ease his nervousness as he played with it incessantly. The leather was intricately woven into something like a dream catcher from the American Indian culture with the black obsidian in the center.
Without warning, Osuro turned toward John, his dark eyes piercing as he stared at him strangely for a long moment, then asked, "That Wraith – the one who stole your life and gave it back – he still haunts your dreams, doesn't he? Why don't you ever talk about the nightmares you have where your very life is being sucked away time after time after time?"
John's mouth dropped open and he swallowed hard, wondering how in the hell this hermit in the deepest reaches of a huge rain forest knew about John's history with Todd, the Wraith who had repeatedly fed on him when he was Kolya's prisoner. Finally, John stood. "What? I really don't think my dreams are any of your concern," he started.
Osuro followed John to his feet and pointed at him. "But you must speak of the nightmares or you will never truly be rid of them!"
John looked at Osuro, still stunned how the man could see into his heart. He glanced over at Siska who just shrugged slightly and said, "After Os escaped from the Loa, he was able to see things – to know things... he would just know things about people no one else knew. Sometimes, he could even predict the future."
Osuro paced around John and pointed a gnarled finger at him. "That young friend of yours... the one who escaped your city and fled... the lieutenant who was brave enough to jump into a culling beam – he did the only thing he could. He ran away, so that he wouldn't hurt any of you. You all were his friends, but you were going to stop him. He couldn't allow that. He knew he would hurt someone, maybe even kill someone, if he'd stayed in your city in the ocean and that was a thought he couldn't abide." He pointed at John again. "You must forgive yourself and let go of the past," he said, then turned to the others, "All of you must do that."
The five Lanteans stared with shock at Osuro's words. By that point, Osuro was apparently done with John. He moved away from him and went on to Teyla.
"Your son is your life, but you think you threaten that bond by putting yourself in harm's way every time you go on a mission. The thought of him growing up without a mother frightens you deeply. That boy is your life. Be very careful in the decisions you make. You should live your life, yes, because to do otherwise would rob you of your essence, but you have a special child and he will need you in the coming years."
Teyla's mouth gaped open. She tried to speak but no words came out. Osuro turned to Rodney, but then he glanced over at Ronon, his eyes growing wide as he shifted his attention to the Satedan instead. "You have a destiny, too, but the scar the Wraith have left upon your soul weighs so heavily there are times you think you will drown from it all. You must – "
Ronon shot to his feet and he stretched out one hand in front of him as the other went to his blaster. "Keep whatever you were about to say to yourself. If you continue, I will stun you with this." He pulled his blaster from his holster and gazed at Osuro with absolute sincerity.
Siska stepped closer to Osuro. "Os, you are showing off. Stop this now – "
Osuro seemed to appreciate Ronon's honesty as he grunted and turned back to McKay, ignoring Siska. He stepped around Siska, then pointed at Rodney. "So much greatness in your thinking, but knowledge doesn't always mean wisdom, does it?"
Osuro started to point at Carson, but instead he hunched forward. He held both hands to his forehead and groaned loudly. Siska rushed to Osuro with Carson right beside him. Osuro sagged into Siska's arms, still moaning as John and Ronon went to help.
Together, they lowered him to the ground. Carson checked Osuro's pulse and respiration. Carson shook his head. "His pulse is dangerously high and probably so is his blood pressure. His heart can't handle this kind of stress." He looked at Siska as he unhooked his pack and started opening zippers for his med kit. "If you can't calm him, I'll have to sedate him. It will be for his own good."
Siska ran the tip of his tongue over his lips and nodded. When Siska put his hand on Osuro's shoulder to say something, Osuro's eyes went wild with emotion. "And, Siska, I see you – I see you upon the ground, bloodied, maybe even dead... Oh, my old friend, you must be very careful or you will not survive the coming days!"
Siska looked slightly taken aback, then shook his head and spoke with a low, calming tone. "Relax, Osuro, relax. I'm sorry you are upset by the presence of these strangers. I can have them leave us alone if you wish."
"Why, Siska, why?" Osuro said, his eyes brimmed with tears. "I thought I could always trust you... "
Siska started to say something, but his voice broke. Instead, his tongue danced over his lips, then he shook his head. "Os, we can talk this out, but first you must rest a moment. Let your breathing and heartbeat slow down, then we will eat and drink. I have brought along some Dinerian ale, your favorite. Come, let's focus on gentler subjects, then we can talk for as long as it takes for you to understand why we are here."
Osuro agreed finally and it wasn't long before he seemed calmer, yet his brooding silence kept John on edge, worried that Osuro might make another run at him or the others, spouting things he should have no way in hell of knowing. The meal passed quietly and thankfully quickly. No one ate very much, except McKay. John's team's usually easy interactions were now replaced by contemplative silence. The only sign of normalcy was McKay's appetite. Everyone seemed so lost in their thoughts, except Siska and Osuro, who spoke quietly together.
Siska looked at John as he reached into his pack, pulling out a black jug. He winked and held up the jug as he said, "Os and I must speak alone, at length. Do not stay up for us. We will return as soon as we can."
The two old friends disappeared into the dark jungle with only a torch to guide them.
John shook his head slightly, still feeling as if he'd been sucker punched. One look at the others said they felt the same way. Well, everyone except Carson. He seemed to be very interested in what everyone was doing. He watched them with his I know exactly what's going on, because I'm the doctor look while they sat around the fire, each finding some diversion in their packs that drew their complete attention.
Carson sat there with his arms crossed in front of him. "Huh," he said finally.
"What?" John asked, not quite meeting Beckett's eye.
"Very interesting dynamics earlier... anyone got anything to say about what was said?"
All four of them shook their heads, looking anywhere except at Carson.
Teyla fidgeted a little, again looking uncomfortable. "It has been a long and tiring day, perhaps we all need some peace and quiet to rest and reflect upon," she said tactfully as she reclined, using her pack as a pillow.
"Perhaps," Carson replied, giving all of them a knowing look. He followed Teyla's idea and moved his pack behind him, reclining on it as he closed his eyes. "If anyone ever wants to talk about it, you know where to find me."
Rodney shook his head and pointed at Beckett. "Oh, you just say that because Mr. Mojo Man didn't do his voodoo soothsayer routine on you. You know, I wonder just what he'd say about you if we got him back here right now."
"Rodney," John said quietly.
McKay sighed and busied himself with his scanner, only to straighten and curse under his breath, displaying enough emotion to catch John's attention.
"What's going on?" John asked, shifting position for a better look at the scanner.
"What's not going on? There's a typhoon moving closer to us with each passing second and the volcanic activity from Mt Chumachu is doing nothing but increasing! We really should dump this entire mission and get the hell out of here and away from these lunatics while we can. I'm serious. This could go south in a very bad way!"
John let out a long breath and returned to his previous position. It was just another McKay freak out moment and John had just about his fill of those for one day. He kept his voice low as he said, "Think positively, Rodney. We probably have plenty of time to complete our mission."
"Probably? Oh, thank you, your obvious confidence in the success of our mission has such a calming influence for me. Silly me for getting upset over what might be the end of all existence on this godforsaken island!"
Carson frowned and shook his head. "Rodney, this mission is vitally important. If there is even the slightest possibility of finding a way to deal with the deadly effects of the Hoffan virus, we have to take it!"
Teyla looked at Carson and asked, "Carson, is it really possible that this dragon root can do all the wondrous things you've said? It would be a godsend to so many people."
Beckett nodded. "It definitely has potential, Teyla. Of course, I won't know for sure until I can get into a proper lab on Atlantis, but the preliminary analysis looks quite promising."
McKay grumbled, "Yeah, but if it isn't, we're risking our lives for nothing."
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Rodney."
"Well, I think we should have had Woolsey send all the marines on Atlantis on this mission with us, so we could just storm the place, take what we need, and leave!"
John rolled his eyes. "Whatever happened to the Prime Directive?"
McKay's eyes bulged. "That's television, for God's sake!"
Carson shook his head. "We already discussed this, Rodney. A small team has a much better chance of harvesting the root and departing without causing too much trouble."
"Maybe they'll put that on our epitaph... " McKay grumbled. He fiddled with his equipment for a moment before he threw the scanner into his pack without closing it, then tossed the pack behind his head. Its contents started spilling out, but he didn't seem to notice as he plopped his head down on the pack. He folded his arms over his chest and closed his eyes as if to shut out the world.
John looked over at Ronon, who was just as wired as the rest of them, maybe more so, because it was Ronon and he just didn't do in depth conversations. Ronon's gaze darted away. The man looked ready to bolt and John couldn't blame him – he was fighting the same urge himself.
Carson cleared his throat, as if he was biting back some unspoken comment. Finally, he sighed and closed his eyes.
John let his gaze sweep over the group, lost in his own thoughts for a minute. With amazement, he heard the sound of McKay snoring a moment later. When John glanced over at him, Rodney's mouth hung open on one side, a long slender strand of saliva already running down his cheek.
Ronon grunted. "That didn't take long."
John shook his head. "Well, we did have a pretty good hike today. I was about ready to call for a break myself before Siska said we were close to Osuro's place."
Ronon rolled his shoulders. "I'm going to do a little scouting and make sure those punks don't come back."
"Punks? Ronon, buddy, you've been watching way too many Dirty Harry movies."
When Ronon didn't smile, John just nodded, releasing Ronon to leave. "Go ahead, but don't get too far away from us."
After Ronon slipped into the shadowy night, Teyla looked over at John, appearing pensive. She rolled her head around her neck as if to release tension. "What – what Osuro said to you, was it true for you?"
John caught her gaze. Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own, "Was it for you?"
Teyla let out a long sigh and nodded.
John tensed, suddenly interested in the contents of his pack, then shook his head. "I don't know... just look at the man, it's obvious he has a few loose screws."
Teyla shook her head slowly, her voice low with honesty. "Even the crazed can speak the truth."
She looked at John, her gaze penetrating his closed heart as she said, "He spoke the truth about Torren and how I feel about my working situation. Perhaps, he hit on something for you about Ford?"
When John started shaking his head, she stopped him by raising her hand. "Just think about his suggestion. Losing Aiden was not only your fault – it was our whole team who allowed him to get away. Each of us has had to find a way to forgive ourselves, but I get the impression you have not resolved that issue yet."
John sighed, mulling over her words before finally nodding. "Maybe," he said in a low tone, not realizing until he said the word how deep the emotions regarding Ford ran.
He glanced over at McKay's scanner where it had spilled out of his pack and leaned over to pick it up. He adjusted some of the readings, frowning at what he saw. McKay overreacted to things most of the time, but even John could see their mission could go bad in a heartbeat if they didn't stay on top of the storm's progress or the volcano's activity.
Finally, John changed the subject, hoping Teyla wouldn't notice. "I have a feeling this is not going to be one of our run-of-the-mill missions. McKay's right – typhoons, volcanoes, and crazy old men leading us on a trek to possible death... "
Teyla raised an eyebrow but didn't call him on it. Her eyes were twinkling as she asked, "When have we ever had run-of-the-mill missions, John?"
John gave her a quick smile, but he knew she knew it wasn't a sincere one. "Good point. Look, I'm not sleepy. I'll keep an eye on things until those two get back."
"It might be all night, considering the man's response to Siska's intentions."
"Yeah, they might be at that, but I'm still good for a while."
John leaned against a large volcanic rock made mostly of pumice stone and shifted until he was comfortable, fiddling with the scanner until it bored him. Finally, he set it aside and stared at the flames of Osuro's cookfire, around which they'd made an impromptu camp. Sometimes, fire could mesmerize him, catching him up in its flickering magic, taking his mind to other times and other places.
Ford – what a hornet's nest Osuro had stirred. God, how he wanted to bring Ford back home again. Atlantis just didn't seem the same without him. There had to be a job or two that could employ Ford's expertise and give him a meaningful life.
John stared up at the clouds in time to see them part, revealing the full moon that had been hiding behind them. Mount Chumachu, which blocked much of the sky, became more interesting, though. There was a vivid red ring around its mouth with a slow but constant spill of lava spilling down one face.
For some reason, Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire" came to mind and John tapped the beat with his thumb against his pant leg as the chorus played inside his head.
I fell into a burning ring of fire
I went down, down, down
and the flames went higher
And it burns, burns, burns
the ring of fire
the ring of fire.
Cash's deep baritone voice still rumbled in his thoughts as he thought of Ford again. He remembered when Weir had called him into her office after he had lost Ford for the third time. She spoke at length, but John, full of self-recriminations, only caught bits of her discussion... things like "it wasn't your fault", "no way you could control Ford's actions", and "don't be so hard on yourself".
He'd heard it before from Teyla – even Ronon and McKay had made their own individual awkward attempts to ease John's conscience back then. The others could talk all they wanted, it wasn't going to change his intentions to find Ford. He'd promised Aiden's cousin he wouldn't give up looking for Ford and he meant to be a man of his word.
The campfire crackled loudly, temporarily silencing the hum of the nighttime wildlife. The quiet was welcome, but soon the sound of the jungle's nocturnal wildlife started to come to life. The voices of the birds, monkeys, and predators began to infuse the air with proof of their existence again.
John searched through the pockets of his tac vest, looking for a piece of gum, but instead he found his Athosian lighter. He hefted the thin cylindrical object in his hand for a moment, remembering that Ford had given it to him for John's birthday before the Wraith's great siege on Atlantis. There Ford was again, sneaking into his thoughts, despite John's best attempts to keep him quiet. Years had come and gone since John had been given that lighter – and Ford was still AWOL.
Through it all, John had firmly resisted the notion that Ford was dead, that he'd been killed on board the Wraith hive ship when it blew up. No, Ford had escaped certain death before and John was sure he'd managed to do it once again. Time would prove he was right.
John sighed and pushed away the thought of Ford, not wanting to touch the guilt and sense of failure that came with anything related to Ford any longer, but his subconscious refused to let it go. Images of Ford flashed through his thoughts again. Aiden had always held a certain sense of awe about everything they found on Atlantis and other worlds, especially in the first year after their arrival.
It was difficult to think of Ford in other ways, darker ways, but it was true. Aiden wasn't the same man they'd known when they first stepped through the Stargate. John remembered sadly the shock he'd felt when the Daedalus beamed Ford and that Wraith into the infirmary, especially after Ford had first opened his eyes. The life and vitality in one familiar eye countered the dead black look in the other. So much different, but so much the same.
John wasn't a fool. He knew that something had changed forever for Ford. Having his system flooded with Wraith enzyme and then nearly dying in the ocean had made irreparable changes in the young man. The things Ford had once cared about might not be nearly as important to him now and that thought saddened John more than he wanted to acknowledge.
John jumped when Teyla put a hand on his shoulder, catching him staring at the lighter. "Are you all right, John?"
He nodded, tucking the lighter away, but he could feel Teyla's gaze lingering on him.
He cleared his throat. "I'm good."
Teyla didn't pull her hand away. "I miss Aiden, too, John."
John gave her half a smile and a shrug. "Yeah, some times more than others."
"His birthday is next week, is it not?"
John nodded as he settled down. "Rest up, Teyla. I have a feeling we'll need all the rest we can get tomorrow."
Teyla nodded and returned to her backpack pillow, settling down as she closed her eyes. John envied her, Carson, and McKay at how easily they had all fallen asleep. John had a feeling it would be a long while before he slept. Even then, he worried about the contents of the dreams that would follow.
oOoOoOoOo