~ A Hollow Reminder ~

An Author's Note follows the story.

Word Count: 3460

Characters: Sheppard, Rodney, Teyla, Ronon.

Disclaimer: 'Stargate Atlantis' and its characters are not mine. I would not have left them under the aegis of those whose interest lay elsewhere.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

Rodney McKay pulled up the zipper tab on his jacket and arranged his collar to cover more of his neck. The slight breeze had come up fast and the day had become a bit chilly.

"Do-able but not super convenient. So, not an alpha-site, but maybe a beta." Sheppard spoke in an all-too-cheery voice, as far as Rodney was concerned. It was cold, growing dark, the whole trip had been a waste of time and they still had a long way to go, walking back to the Gate.

"More like a delta-site," Rodney grumbled. "Or better yet, make it omega, The Site of Last Resort."

Sheppard chuckled all-too-heartily. "You're just mad at the planet because you slid into that depression."

Rodney was incensed. "That was not a 'depression'; I nearly broke my leg falling into a ravine!" Even now he was stepping carefully along the path that meandered through the trees.

"A shallow depression, just a little gully," Sheppard contradicted, while shrugging bonelessly. His shoulders rose so far that his head nearly disappeared inside his jacket.

Teyla's tone contained a hint of mischievous dismissal. "And you did land softly, without mishap, in the leaves."

"Which were probably filled with poisonous snakes," Rodney retorted, not allowing the dangers to be minimized. He could still feel the scrape and itch of every twig and leaf that made its way down his collar and to points south.

"Spiders, maybe, or creepy critters," Sheppard smirked, then added dryly, "And I'm sure we'd know if you'd been bitten."

Just talking about it made Rodney's skin crawl. He reached up to scratch his head. He was sure he felt a line of bumps...

Sheppard breathed in deeply. "Smell it? The nip in the air." He sniffed again. "This is something I really miss, living in Atlantis. Autumn, change of seasons, the color of the leaves."

"I love the rustle of dry leaves," Teyla remarked. "It reminds me of the celebrations and special foods that were only available at a certain time of year on Athos."

"Not me," Sheppard replied, shaking his head. "Spent time on a base near a beach. That's what crabs sound like, skittering across the sand. Huge crabs. Could pick a body clean. Nothin' but skeletal remains." He shivered in an exaggerated manner.

Leave it to Sheppard to bring up a ghoulish reference. Rodney was pretty certain he did it on purpose. Every single year.

"Is this not the perfect setting to be recreated for the Hallowe'en party? The fallen leaves and the bare trees." Teyla gestured as she spoke. "Even the spiders and 'creepy critters'."

Rodney felt the goosebumps rise. He'd been looking forward to this year's party, but the near-death, ravine experience left him contemplating the fine line between Life and Death. He wasn't a party-person, but Hallowe'en was different ~ no familial pressure or social expectations and all he had to do was slap on a mustache and mess up his hair, drop a sliderule in his pocket and write 'E = m c(squared)' on a notecard and pin it to his shirt. He put up with all the idiocy because at the end of the day there was the chocolate. Of course he stayed away from the seasonal scary stuff ~ ghastly and creepy were still scary in any galaxy.

Ronon said, "I still don't get it. I remember last year. This is when everyone dresses up and eats candy."

That pretty much summed up Rodney's feelings: dress up and go find the chocolate. And candy corn.

"Well, yes and no," Sheppard responded.

"I have spoken to several people each year," Teyla inserted, "and no one can explain to me the reason for the party, although they all truly enjoy preparing for the day."

Rodney waited to see if fly-boy intended to explain the meaning of Hallowe'en. Did he actually know the origins? Hardly a person did anymore. Rodney had vague recollections of fact and superstition. Mostly Hallowe'en was another commercialization process that obscured the original significance. Not that Rodney was complaining. Chocolate, afterall, was chocolate.

"Uh, it's kinda complicated," Sheppard began.

Rodney sort of remembered something about Druids and bonfires, the spirits of the dead, and ghosts that could play tricks on people who didn't leave treats and-

"Right, Rodney?" Sheppard interrupted Rodney's thoughts.

"What?"

"I said," the colonel repeated calmly, "from what I remember in school, it was originally a very old celebration to mark the end of summer, you know, harvest time before winter set in, and then other cultures that held similar festivals merged their customs so nowadays the one day holds a lot of history."

And the result, Rodney thought, was that no one remembered any of it, just the costumes and the candy.

"Most worlds celebrate their harvest," Teyla commented. "It is a good time for each world to trade, and it is true that each world has different customs to celebrate its time of bounty."

"Anyway, harvest is sorta end-of-life, plus people had days when they acknowledged their dead, and it all became a kinda mish-mash." Sheppard hurried to end his explanation. "Apples, uh, had significance, so they're still a symbol, new stuff and superstitions became attached, now it's just a mix. The name, All Hallows Evening, was shortened to Hallowe'en. Get it?"

It sounded about right to Rodney, but Sheppard had left out a lot. Most likely on purpose. How was he going to explain so many cultures and competing religions and centuries of change? There was even some Roman history in the evolution of Hallowe'en. Wasn't All Hallows Day a Catholic-whatever to do with saints? Or was it souls. And didn't the Celts believe souls roamed the Earth in that half-light before the new year? Rodney glanced around at the twilight and shivered. He should read up on everything to be the go-to expert who knew all the facts.

"Why dress up? Why not just feast?" Ronon asked. Rodney recalled the previous year Conan had gobbled candy corn by the handful. How to explain trick-or-treating instead of just eating?

"Yes, costumes also are something no one can explain," Teyla added. "Some costumes are fun, some are meant to be macabre. Some people are dressed as animals, others as people from Earth history or from fiction. Last year I met 'Sherlock Holmes' and Rodney has dressed each year as Albert Einstein."

She made it sound as if he had no imagination, but Sir Isaac Newton was harder to represent and Rodney was certain nobody would even know who Newton was. Look at the number of cretins who thought he'd been dressed as Charlie Chaplin last year.

Sheppard cleared his throat and started backpedaling. "You know, where I come from the tradition is fairly new, compared to other parts of the world. So, I'm not an expert." He had been walking backwards as he spoke and now he turned forward. "My favorite character was Batman, anyway, and he's not historical."

"Perhaps the purpose of costumes is to mark cultural trends." Teyla's suggestion was something Rodney hadn't considered.

"You could be right, but originally the costumes were for ceremonial purposes, or to represent the dead or to hide the identity of the wearer or whatever." Sheppard shrugged. "When they brought kids into it I don't think people wanted it to be scary, so instead of the supernatural, it's superheroes and princesses."

"I agree with Elizabeth that it is better to concentrate on the fun costumes," Teyla opined. "It makes the day more festive."

"Did she help you again this year? You've been very quiet about your costume. No hints at all," Sheppard observed.

Teyla looked...smug. Rodney wondered if the big guy planned to dress up. Had he heard of the Abominable Snowman?

"Who is Freddy Krueger?" Ronon asked.

Rodney's blood froze. A chill slithered down his spine. Even if he hadn't seen a single film, the movie posters were enough; he'd had nightmares and he'd never been to Elm Street.

Sheppard turned around again to face his teammates. "You'll find this hard to believe, Big Guy, but people on Earth enjoy being scared witless as long as they know they're actually safe."

"Weird," Ronon declared.

"Krueger is a character in what we call 'slasher' films," Sheppard explained. "Weir nixed all vampire references. Krueger and a few other maniacal killers are on the No-No List, too."

Rodney agreed with that. Even the brief mention had shaken him. He looked up. Branches scraped and scratched, jostled by the breeze. The forest had become more dense. And dark. Rodney couldn't see. He turned on his flashlight but the beam was dim.

"On the other hand, if you wanna experience a weird, Earth Hallowe'en tradition, we can have a horror-flick marathon. Zombies, demons, serial killers." Sheppard shook his head. "Classic images are ghosts, goblins, skeletons, vampires," he rattled off a list, "witches, cats, cauldrons, the Headless Horseman, jack o'lanterns, bats, black widows. Even werewolves," he chortled gleefully. "I don't know how they got in there. As I said, it's a mix of old tradition based on religious observation, add superstition and throw in whatever happens to be in fashion at the moment."

They'd arrived at the Gate. Ghosts, goblins. Skeletons. Sheppard's list repeated in Rodney's mind. Bats, bugs. Rodney itched. He wanted a bath after his terrifying ravine descent.

"Rodney? Dial the Gate? ...Rodney?"

Rodney started at Sheppard's voice. His teammates were lined up, ready to leave. Waiting. The Gate had a spooky, sinister appearance. Rodney walked to the DHD, but he hesitated to tap the keys. The buttons were hard to distinguish, each icon a spidery design, unfamiliar in the half-light. He peered closer.

"Hurry up, McKay," Ronon ordered.

Rodney angled his flashlight to illuminate the keys.

"Take off your glasses," Sheppard called. "I don't know why you're still wearing yours. You're the one who told us when to take them off, so, c'mon, let's go."

Without the glasses that were necessary when the world's sun was high in the sky, Rodney could clearly see the DHD keys. He dialed Atlantis and moved toward his team. It was still light, but nearing the end of day. Knarled trees were silhouetted against the dimming sky like outstretched bony arms.

"It is a pity we cannot somehow bring this with us," Teyla gestured with a sweep of her arm before stepping into the Puddle.

Rodney couldn't disagree more. Haul a pile of branches and leaves to Atlantis? Thoughts of the mess and his allergies made him shudder, not to mention the 'creepy critters' inhabiting any space provided by Nature. He crossed back into the city, still rolling his eyes about the absurdity, and stopped abruptly.

The Gate Room was dimly lit to showcase the lights in plastic pumpkins. Rodney reached up to make certain he hadn't slipped on his dark glasses again. Cobwebs were draped around the space, with bats and enormous spiders placed at random. Rodney brushed aside the wisps and ducked to make his way across the room. Each year the decorations took over more space, and each year the festivities started earlier than the year before. There were still a couple days until the 'main event', yet personnel had been walking around for nearly a week in full or partial costume. The whole 'overkill' was giving Rodney a headache.

Rodney followed his teammates up the main stairs. There was nothing to report about the planet so he intended to take a shower...and look for snake bites. Maybe soak in a tub to forestall the aches and pains he knew would come after a serious fall. In fact, he intended to make it an early night to avoid any further ridiculous discussions about Hallowe'en traditions or the next selection in Sheppard's repertoire of creepy stories.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

Another wasted mission. Before the team had left Atlantis Rodney had asked ~ quite reasonably ~ just how many alpha-sites they really needed to have on a back-up list. And here they were, on another dreary planet that would only be acceptable to The Swamp Thing. Rodney wiped his brow. It was hot and muggy and a thick mist turned the trees into ghostly shadows.

"We should have more intel on a planet before we go on one of these little field trips or we should send a lesser team to do the grunt work," Rodney griped. He was watching his feet, trying to step carefully on the path; he didn't want another mishap.

The humidity was thick and choking. Tendrils of moss hung like curtains and slid across his skin. Rodney waved impatiently at the bothersome threads and tried to concentrate on his feet. As the woods became more dense the light dimmed and the path was more difficult to follow. Make that 'impossible to follow'. Rodney came to a halt. "Sheppard?"

No answer. No footsteps. Rodney heard nothing. The fog was so thick he could see only shades. He'd lost the path. He'd taken a wrong turn somehow and become separated from his team. "Teyla? ...Ronon?" Branches scraped and moaned. A slight wind whistled. "Hey? I'm stuck. I can't see anything." Rodney pulled out his flashlight. It flickered and went dark. "Guys?" It was creeping him out. More Hallowe'en jokes. Rodney was getting good and mad. And scared. "This isn't funny!"

"You have nothing to fear, Rodney." Sheppard's voice had a hollow, tinny sound, unreal and unnatural in the stillness.

"If that's your idea of a rah-rah speech, it's not working." Rodney hesitated. He couldn't be that far off the trail and Sheppard had to be close. Rodney started to retrace his steps.

"C'mon, McKay, keep up."

Rodney picked up the pace, then heard a creak and crackle. The mist was clearing, but there was only darkness, with some illumination coming from a rising moon. Rodney could barely make out the trees as spectral shadows. "Sheppard?"

"Keep up, McKay."

Rodney shivered. Puffs of mist appeared with his rapid breathing. He was trying to get his bearings but it was so dark.

"Take off your glasses, Rodney," Sheppard's voice echoed.

Rodney reached up to remove the lenses. Nothing changed; it was still dark. He heard something behind him. He froze and looked over his shoulder. Shifting shadows and the whisper of wind. Rodney started to run, parting the web of hanging moss.

"Sheppard! Wait!" In his nervous haste Rodney slipped and went down, down, down, amid the spiders and creepy critters and poisonous snakes, rolling into a ravine. "Sheppard, help!" Rodney scrambled to find handholds.

"It's just a little hollow, Rodney."

Rodney was slipping, losing ground. His legs were covered in leaves, slick with mud. He couldn't climb. His feet were being pulled down, sucked into mire. Rank water was filling his boots. He was being bogged down...in a bog. Icy fingers grabbed his ankles. He couldn't move. He heard whale song. He twisted and turned, tried to kick, but was held fast. "Sheppard!"

Rodney woke in a sweat, his feet tangled in the bedding. He couldn't breathe. His heart was pounding, pounding. He was cold. The room was dark. The window was delimited by grey light, filtered through an ocean storm. Waves were pounding, pounding. The door crashed open. Rodney stared in shock.

"Hey, buddy, what's up? Why didn't you answer the door?"

Through a swirling haze of color Rodney could discern the arrival of three beings. The tallest one had no obvious facial features ~ or even an obvious head. The next tallest was thin and spindly, with distorted gangly limbs and hideous visage. The smallest reminded Rodney of that witch on 'Bewitched' ~ beautiful, but she looked as if she enjoyed pulling wings off flies.

"We missed you at dinner," Evil Samantha said, in an elegant, regal tone that made Rodney feel he had been the intended main course. "We brought you something." She opened her hand to offer him chocolate. He reached out without thinking because he had missed dinner and it was chocolate. He jerked his hand back when he realized the piece was a chocolate-covered orange slice that was lying in the palm of her feeding hand.

Colored mist swirled around him. The pounding, pounding echoed in Rodney's head. The three intruders stared, unblinking.

Rodney squeezed his eyes shut. "No goblins, no witches, no..." He opened his eyes. "No headless things. There are no such things. This is all in my mind. All in my mind. There are no such things as goblins and witches and ...things. All in my-"

"Rodney. Rodney! Look at me. ...McKay!"

Greenish, scaly, clawed hands grabbed his shoulders. Rodney looked up into the face of a goblin as it shook him and shouted at him: "Prime, not-prime!"

"What?" Rodney was dazed, gaping in horrified fascination at the pointed teeth, pointed ears, pointed projections on the head.

The goblin spoke again, distinctly enunciating the words in a lazy drawl, "Prime or not-prime: 1223."

"Uh, prime," Rodney managed to mumble. From habit he automatically challenged, "101182101."

"Not prime. See? Would a goblin know that?" the goblin smirked, displaying each pointed tooth.

"This isn't real. It's all in my mind. There's no such things." Rodney closed his eyes and chanted. "All in my mind. All in my mind. No such things. All in my mind."

Spooky Samantha touched a taloned finger to his forehead. "He will burn," she declared and Rodney opened his eyes wide and dropped his jaw in shock.

The Headless Thing growled impatiently and leaned down to yank Rodney by the arm. He pulled Rodney from the bed and threw him over a shoulder. Rodney's world turned upside down.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

"Go fish."

Rodney surfaced slowly from sleep and blearily opened his eyes. A forest sprite, a cowboy and a lion were playing cards at the foot of his bed. "Oh, no," Rodney groaned. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to sink back into the pillow. He could still hear the beep of a monitor.

"Hey, buddy, you okay?" the cowboy wanted to know. Behind the huge handlebar mustache, goatee, bushy eyebrows and what must be at least a 20-gallon hat, Rodney perceived Sheppard's concern; the man dropped all four feet of his chair to the floor and folded his cards on the bedspread.

The lion's massive paw tapped Rodney's right foot. Tawny ears poked through a mane of dreadlocks. Rodney wondered who had painted the nose and whiskers on Ronon's face.

Rodney slid his gaze leftward, to the third card player. Green and gold sparkled on the dryad's skin. What little skin he could see. Rodney peered closely. How were those leaves adhering? Almost everywhere. Like a second skin. He continued his examination. Those weren't real leaves, were they? His nose itched. And she'd done something with her hair; it looked short, like a cap made of sprigs of flowers and lots of leaves.

"How are you feeling?" Teyla, the wood nymph, inquired.

"What happened?" Rodney responded, ignoring the question.

"In the language of love beads and the sixties, you've been 'on a bad trip, man'," Yosemite Sheppard answered. "A little repercussion from your slide into the hollow."

"It was a poisonous snake, wasn't it?" Rodney accused.

"Nope," the colonel replied, shaking his head. "Leaf dust."

"Leaf dust? What does that mean?"

"You were exposed to some dry-leaf stuff. It's a drug. Mild when inhaled. Very nasty when mixed with water and absorbed through the skin." Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "Like in a bathtub. Alters brain chemistry, increases fear and paranoia."

Rodney asked suspiciously, "How do you know all this?"

"We went back to the planet," Ronon growled and drew a card. "Brought back some of those leaves you slid into."

"Beckett did some tests. You've had a bad fever and a rash." Sheppard added, "You missed yesterday and most of today."

"I'm missing the party?" No chocolate. Rodney was glum.

Teyla leaned down and lifted a full orange-and-black goodies bag from the floor. Rodney could see someone had taped a paper with 'E = m c(squared)' on the handle. Teyla set the bag on the bed and reached inside. With green and gold sparkly fingernails she tore open the wrapper of a chocolate bar and held it for Rodney to take. "You should have only one tonight. Tomorrow you will feel better." She moved the bag to a table, within his reach.

He wasn't really missing Hallowe'en. Rodney watched his teammates playfully argue over cards while dressed in flamboyant costumes. The chocolate melted, warm and smooth on his tongue. Rodney was just closing his eyes, slipping back into sleep, when the lion swept his paw across the cards and accused the pixie of cheating. *~*

...

Author's Note: Reference is made to Samantha Stephens, the character played by Elizabeth Montgomery in the television series 'Bewitched'. Allusion is made to Yosemite Sam, an animated character in cartoons produced by Warner Bros.

Happy Hallowe'en, and thanks for reading!