Author's Notes: Had a dream that I was writing fic; managed to remember enough of it to actually write this.
The only things John Sheppard knew for certain, as he opened his eyes, were his name, his rank and the fact that he was no longer on Atlantis. Of course, why he wasn't on Atlantis and why that was potentially a bad thing escaped him for the time being. He wasn't even sure where or what Atlantis was, though something in the back of his mind niggled that he knew the answers. Unfortunately, a throbbing headache prevented him from dwelling too much on what had happened, and kept his focus on the immediate present.
"Ye gave us quite a scare, lad," the gruff voice said kindly. The accent wasn't one that John could place, but it was definitely not any that he was readily familiar with. "The way that horse bucked ye off, we all thought..." the voice trailed off as John forced his eyes open. "Well, don't matter what we all though, now, do it? Yer awake, and tha's all one can really hope fer."
John blinked, raising a hand to rub at his eyes. They felt gummy with sleep, and his entire body protested at the movement. It was almost like being caught by a hundred.....Wraith stunners? Was that the term? What the hell was a Wraith stunner?
"Easy, m'boy," the voice continued, as strong hands helped John sit up.
"Where am I?" John asked finally, as his eyes re-focused. He took in the room, and then put a hand to his head with a groan. He must've really hit his head hard, if what he was seeing was real. The entire place looked like something out of one of those Robin Hood era movies; the stone walls and floor were drab, even in the flickering candlelight, and the mattress under his butt felt like it was filled with hay. A wooden table in one corner held a ceramic basin and a pitcher, and on the floor underneath was a copper pot, the use of which John really didn't want to think about right at this moment. The bed sheets were rough, and obviously hand-woven, although the tunic and trousers he wore were soft and comfortable. His bare feet were hidden under the blanket, and there was no sign of his uniform. He looked over the room twice trying to locate his usual clothing, his tac-vest, boots and weaponry, but they weren't there. "And where's my gear? My uniform?"
The man hovering over him was stocky and sunburnt, the definitive medieval farmer. The man's piercing blue eyes gave John a curious look, and the man's unkempt reddish-orange hair shivered lightly as the man shook his head. "Don' know what yer on about, lad. All ye had wi' ye when we found ye, were the clothes on yer back and a bed-roll." A beat before the man added, "An' yer horse wi'is tack, but tha's it, son. Ye had nothin' else."
At John's blank stare, the man started moving about the room, drawing aside the room's only curtains to let in the cool morning air and sunshine. "As fer where ye are, ye managed to land on the fringe of Dellston," he said, blowing out the candles.
John blinked and chanced a delicate shake of his head to try and clear it. Wow, he must have totally been left behind by...he sighed as names and faces swam just out of reach of comprehension. He felt they'd be back for him, whoever they were, but still, the thought of them leaving him didn't sit right. There must have been a damned good reason for it, he figured, he just wished he knew what it was.
"Okay," John said. "Who're you?"
The man chuckled softly. "Erek Vance, at yer service."
"Right. Lieutenant-Colonel John Sheppard."
"Lieutenant-Colonel? Funny and fancy soundin' title for a man wi'nothin' t'his name, but a bed-roll and a horse," Erek commented, canting his head to one side.
"S'not my title. It's my rank. I'm...I'm in the military," John replied with a shake of his head. He peered at his would-be benefactor as the man started to laugh. John swung his legs over the side of the bed and planted his feet on the ground, pausing as his head spun and threatened to black out again. After several moments, the laughter subsided to a sputtering chuckle.
"I'm sorry, lad. But what type o'military man travels wi'out his weapon, eh?" Erek finally said, still doubled over with his hands on his knees. He straightened and wiped a tear from his cheek. "Honestly, lad, whoever y'think ye are, is a far cry from what ye be lookin' like." Erek stepped over to John and helped him up. "But no matter, whoever y'might be, ye'll have a place here for the time bein'."
"Thanks," John replied, wobbling a little as his brain tried to make the room stop its gentle swaying. At least he wouldn't have to beg for room and board as he waited for...again, the names and faces swam just out of reach, and John settled on trying not to remember. He'd be satisfied with waited to be rescued, regardless of who did the rescuing.
The woman standing across from him fixed him with a steady gaze. They each raised a bantos rod to the ready position, pausing for only a moment before erupting into a flurry of movements. Parry after parry, riposte after riposte, the rods clacked rhythmically in the still air of the gym. They had been sparring together for so long that each was intimately familiar with the other's movements. The round ended after a short while, and this time, it wasn't because he was once more knocked to the ground and in pain.
She smiled at him, clearly impressed at his progress. "You have vastly improved, John. I'm impressed."
"Yeah, well, I have one hell of a teacher," he replied. "You and Ronon keep me on top of my game."
"I hear that you can almost hold your own against him now," she teased.
"And I can almost kick your ass," he replied, launching into a renewed attack.
They fought for several more rounds before they were interrupted by the radio call.
"John, Teyla? Please come down to the Control Room. There's something you need to see," Weir's voice had a slight note of urgency to it, and both John and Teyla hurried out of the gym to wash up and join their Expedition Leader.
The mid-morning sun was growing warmer by the minute, and John knew he only had an hour or two left to finish his outdoor tasks for the day. Erek's farm had been home for several weeks now, and once John had regained his strength he'd been put to work. It was only fair, after all, that John work for his room and board. He had picked up on the rhythm of farm life easily enough, and the manual labour felt good after his recent injuries.
John had also started venturing out into the community, figuring it was better to join them than to play the outsider. He couldn't afford any suspicions directed towards him, if he was going to survive long enough to be found. This, of course, meant joining them for all the town festivals and the weekly worship service. The feeling that he had been through this bit before, only someplace else, kept nagging at him. The worship services, especially, kept throwing him for a loop, as they were all together familiar yet undeniably foreign. The sermons kept opening doors in his mind, but they failed to illuminate anything beyond those doors. He knew deep inside him that the things preached from the pulpit should raise some sort of excitement, but why and for what, he could never nail down.
It was an unsettling feeling, and he pushed it away with the work he did for Erek during the week. It was hard to not-quite-remember and not-quite-feel things when one was concentrating on tilling fields and tending animals, and one's sleep tended to be dreamless if one was tired enough at the end of the day. Even still, there were nights when he would wake in a cold sweat, the dying images of another time and place dancing before his eyes as he panted for breath in the darkness. Names and terms and locations that he could recite seconds after opening his eyes would fade quickly into elusive ideas and concepts, leaving him with a horrified sense of duality.
Today, however, marked nearly a week in which he was able to avoid what he had begun to classify as nightmares, and he prayed that the trend would continue. He only had a few more weeds to turn out before he was done, and he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow.
"Good day to you, John Sheppard!"
John looked up at the call, and raised his hand with a smile. "Good day to you, Leo. Everything okay?"
"All is well, yes," the other man replied, pausing by the fence. "Hard at work, I see?"
John stabbed the shovel into the ground and brushed his hands off as he wandered over. "Yep. Just a few more weeds and Erek's crops will be good to go."
"Excellent," Leo replied, beaming. "You've done much to help him this past season. We've been praying that someone would come to help him ever since his wife passed last year. The farm was starting to fall into disrepair."
John smiled politely, raising his shoulders in a delicate shrug. "Well, helping out is the least I can do. I mean, from what I heard, Erek put me up while I was injured, and spent a fair amount of money for the doctor. It seems that I owe him quite a bit."
Leo nodded appreciatively. "Yes. But you do much more than simply repay a debt, John. You've given hope to a man who had nearly lost his faith in God. For that, you will be blessed richly." He reached out to pat John on the shoulder. "I must get back home before the day turns too hot. I'll see you later on."
"Take care, Leo," John replied, watching as the other man continued on his way. Distraction ended, John returned to his shovel so he could finish with those weeds, hoping that those rich blessings would come in some form of salvation from this place.
John was on his way home from the tavern later that night when he met her, just as he was crossing the town square. Actually, it was more when she nearly ran him over as she raced by on horse-back. He jumped out of the way in the nick of time, only turning to give chase as he heard her scream. Taking in the horse's wild course, John cut across the square, leaping up onto the ledge of the town's fountain and bounded to the other side. He paused for a split-second to make sure he didn't go the wrong way, and then surged into a sprint as the horse turned back in his direction.
As the mount drew level with him, he reached out and swatted at the reigns, trying to hook his fingers around the leather straps. The horse was beginning to pull ahead of him when he finally made the catch, and in two more bounds, he swung up into the saddle behind the rider, pulling tight on the reigns. Several tense moments followed as man and beast wrestled for control, but in the end, John persevered, and brought the horse into a slow canter before pulling to a stop completely as he cooed soothingly to both mount and rider.
The startled young woman cradled in his arms was on the verge of hyperventilating, if her gasps for breath were any indication, so John concentrated most of his gentle and relaxing gibberish on her, turning his head to whisper in her ear. It took several more minutes before her breathing evened out and she relaxed against him.
"Thank you, kind sir," she said, voice barely above a whisper.
"Not a problem, m'lady," he replied. "I take it you were on your way home?"
"Aye," she said with a nod. "I live in the manor on the top of the hill." She pointed off into the distance towards the only manor house this far out in the country.
John swallowed thickly, as the woman's identity started to become somewhat clear. The manor belonged to the Kymeri family, and from what John had been able to inference about them from the talk about town, they were pretty hot stuff. If the rumours were to be believed, the Kymeris were distantly related to the Royal Family that resided down in the capital city, a week's ride from Dellston. They mostly kept to themselves, though they were spotted around town every so often, or at worship. When they graced the town with their presence, the Kymeri family was subjected to the usual hushed gossip and awed looks reserved for such nobility.
John tended to ignore them, for the most part, figuring that the rest of the town would more than make up for his lack of gossip and gawking, and on the two occasions in which he had to interact with Mister Kymeri, he was respectful and poised, the way he was trained to be in the presence of dignified company. John liked to imagine that the smiles he received in return were grateful ones, and not of the indulgent variety the Kymeris usually bestowed upon the populace.
Therefore, this whole rescue thing could be very, very good, or very, very bad, John decided, and he really hoped it was the former and not the latter.
"Then please, allow me to escort you the rest of the way, Miss Kymeri," he said, gently goading the horse into an easy trot. He could almost feel the slump of her shoulders as he identified her, and her soft sigh wasn't nearly soft enough to be missed.
Consequently, the ride was made in silence, mostly because John had no idea what to say to the woman. Hell, he wasn't even sure what she looked like, so he couldn't make any comment or compliment to that effect. Thankfully, the ride up the hill didn't take as long as he had feared it would, and it seemed that both the horse and Miss Kymeri were glad, too.
He brought them to a halt outside the gates to the estate and dismounted. He offered a helping hand as she, too, dismounted, both averting their gaze from the other awkwardly. He slipped the reigns into her hand and bowed slightly. "M'lady, I hope that the rest of the evening is less stressful for you."
"Thank you again," she said quietly.
John took that as his dismissal and turned to go.
"Wait!" she called and he paused. "What's your name?"
He turned slightly, a hint of a smile playing over his lips. "John Sheppard."
"Thank you, John Sheppard. I owe you a debt of gratitude."
John shook his head. "Nah. Just be more careful when riding at night. Horses can get spooked easily." He tossed her a casual salute and continued on down the hill towards home.