A/N: This story has been languishing on my hard drive for over a year because I was unhappy with it. Today I decided to pull it out, read it and finish it. To my surprise it is 99.5 % finished. All that is required is a bit of I dotting and T crossing. Four chapters remain, including this one. I'll edit and post one a day over the next few days and put this puppy to bed. If any one is still reading this one, thanks for your incredible patience!

CHAPTER SIX

Richard Woolsey took a deep breath as he stood before the inactive Atlantis gate. "It seems like just yesterday that we were standing in this same position waiting to negotiate with the Omari chieftains," he said dryly to Major Lorne who stood alongside him.

"Yesterday we were bearing arms instead of gifts," Lorne replied in a low tone.

Woolsey glanced toward him with a raised brow. Though the major was dressed in denim and a long sleeved flannel shirt, he had no doubt that there was a weapon concealed under there somewhere. Even Teyla, busy double checking the satchels of items for the Omari, carried at least two knives within the folds of her traditional Athosian garb.

"I mean, obvious arms," Lorne corrected himself.

Richard understood his frustration. As Sheppard's second in command, and especially as Sheppard was out of commission for the time being, it was the major's responsibility to ensure the safety of the expedition. He had been against this endeavor from the moment Teyla had revealed that they would need to show a complete lack of aggression during the negotiations for Doctors Kremer and Bowen.

"Yesterday," Teyla spoke from a position just behind him, "we were requesting permission to search for our missing team members on their sacred mountain. At that time, their transgression was only a possibility that they assumed would be dealt with by their Guardian. Today, things have changed."

Having completed her task, she moved to stand alongside him. "I am hopeful that this matter can be completed quickly so that we all may return home together."

"Agreed." Richard could not argue with that sentiment. He turned toward the control room and ordered the technician to dial the Omari home world.

Teyla and Lorne each grasped a large satchel containing the goods for the Omari people and stepped into the event horizon. Transit was everything he hated and secretly feared. He always closed his eyes before stepping through.

He reached the other side with the usual feeling of disorientation and displacement. A movement at his right and left caused his eyes to fly wide. Suddenly, Lorne was reaching for something. Richard could only assume it for was the aforementioned concealed weapon. One of Teyla's knives was in her hand, already half raised when she jerked as if struck by something. In the next moment, the same happened to Lorne. They both dropped to the ground, their weapons in the grass near them.

Richard looked upward in time to come face to face with the business end of an Omari spear. The warrior behind the spear did not look as if he might have any qualms about using his weapon.

Richard raised his hands.

hr

"Hello, luv," Carson Beckett greeted Jennifer Keller as he walked into the Atlantis infirmary. As many villagers as he tended throughout the Pegasus Galaxy, Atlantis always felt like coming home, even more so than going back to Earth to visit his mum.

"Carson!" Jennifer looked up from one of the scanning consoles as if he had just popped in out of thin air. "I'm so glad you're here."

"It's good to be here, lass, but I'm sure it's hardly a surprise." He was pretty certain he'd told her after his last visit that he would back to pick up a few supplies this week. After all, the Daedalus should have been by recently to restock the city's stores. Granted, he couldn't be held to a date, but he was fairly close to on schedule.

"Sorry. With all the excitement, your visit slipped my mind," she said sheepishly. "But now that you're here, I could really use a consult."

Carson glanced about the place, noting that little had changed since his last visit. The curtains were semi-drawn around the bed at the far end of the infirmary. He assumed that meant that there was a patient, but other than that business seemed slow.

"Who's the consult for?" he asked, dropping his back pack on one of the stools in the corner.

"Colonel Sheppard."

"What's he done, now?"

"Healed – almost miraculously."

"Oh, bugger." That was almost never good – especially in Sheppard's case. "Did you run the Iratus tests?"

"Just got the results. They were negative."

"We should run them again. Just to be certain."

hr

Evan opened his eyes to see something tan and out of focus near his face. He blinked, confused, hoping that squinting might clear things up. The haziness resolved into several dozen fuzzy legs crawling quickly across the patch of tan. He jerked backward, slamming into something round and pliable.

He reached behind himself, and quickly identified the pliable object as one of the duffel bags full of clothing for the village children. The memory of stepping through the gate only to be faced with Omari scouts pointing spears came rushing back.

He moved groggily to his feet, taking stock of his surroundings. Whatever was on the tip of the dart they'd hit him with sure packed a wallop. It was several moments before the room settled down enough for him to really focus. A brownish blur coalesced into rough wooden walls and a low ceiling. Blankets, bags of what looked like grain and other dry goods were stacked neatly along the sides of the rough building.

Familiar smells reached him, reminding him of the roasted meats the Omari cooked in the early hours of the day. Voices and the sounds of approaching footfalls accompanied the smells. He reached for his weapon just as the leather flap that made up the door was thrown back. His hand found only empty space.

"Good – they told me you were awake. How are you feeling?" Mr. Woolsey stood before him, looking as if he was trying very hard to pretend that there weren't three armed Omari scouts standing right behind him.

Evan brought his arm back to his side. No weapons here, Mr. Scout. Just scratching my back. "Like someone got the drop on me. What happened? Where's Teyla? I thought she said these people were reasonable."

"It appears that both your and Teyla's reflexes were your downfall. They responded to your perceived threat by shooting you and Teyla with darts containing a sedative agent."

"You weren't hit?" Evan asked, then immediately regretted it.

"No," Woolsey made a face. "Apparently I don't have reflexes."

Lorne schooled his features. This was hardly a laughing matter. "Where's Teyla?"

"Teyla has been taken captive and confined with Doctors Kremer and Bowen. It appears that during their initial interog … er … discussion with the esteemed chieftains of this village, she, Doctor McKay, Colonel Sheppard and Ronon were identified as having trespassed upon the Guardian mountain. Their presence has been requested as a part of the hearing as well."

"You have told them that Colonel Sheppard is a little under the weather at the moment?" Evan asked. He'd made a trip to the infirmary to check in on his commanding officer the night before. He hadn't looked very well.

"Of course I have," Woolsey replied. "Teyla feels certain that if Ronon and McKay arrive as requested and undergo questioning, things will work in our favor."

Evan fought the urge to roll his eyes. "So, you want me to go back to the city, pick up Ronon and McKay and just deliver them back here?" Teyla was a great negotiator and she knew these people, but getting shot by a poison dart had really put a damper on his desire to give them the benefit of the doubt. Never mind that giving the kidnappers exactly what they wanted seemed like a really bad plan. "And what about you? Are you being held, too?" He looked significantly at the guards.

Woolsey glanced back at them. "I'm here to negotiate for the release of our people. Part of that negotiation is that I am to allow you to return to the city to deliver the status of our situation." He then paused, giving Evan a very direct stare. "Your orders, Major, are to return to the city and apprise them of our situation and then do your job, in accordance with all of our mission directives." One of his brows rose slightly as he spoke.

"Yes, sir." Evan nodded slowly. He understood what Woolsey didn't say out loud. As Atlantis' temporary military commander, it was his job to come up with a back up plan in case Teyla's went sideways. And oh, by the way, don't mess up the mineral rights deal we're hoping for if you can manage it. Nothing like having one's hands tied.

He gestured in the direction of the large scouts who were currently barring the only exit. "I can just go now?" he asked.

"These gentleman will escort you to the gate." Woolsey gestured toward his three oversized friends.

"I don't suppose they'll be returning my side arm?" he asked hopefully. That gun was his personal weapon and would be a pain to replace long distance.

"Not at the moment, no," Woolsey said dryly. "But I'll be sure to make it a part of my negations. Teyla has already expressed an interest in the return of both her knives."

Evan wasn't sure if he was serious. "All right, then. Commencing doing my job." Without a weapon. For now. He stepped through the opening in the tent with the scouts on his six. As they headed out of the village, he began to plan.

hr

He looked down at Jaron, the man who had been Guardian for many, many days. Hair that had once been raven dark was now streaked with white. This man had become his friend.

"It is no longer safe." Jaron's gaze was fixed skyward, tracking the growing screams of the enemy ships. Their unnaturally lighted vessels wound through the trees in gathering dusk even as the phantom whispers of their mind-song danced at the edge of his perception. Pushing the alien voices away, he focused on his friend.

"I have been called back," Jaron continued. "Until I return, you are the guardian. The things you and your brothers have seen and collected will be useful in our struggles against the Wraith and others. It must be protected. Guard well, my friend."

Jaron rested a trembling hand against his feathered breast and mind-sang the next words. "Until I return."

As was his way, he sought to offer support, a lessening of his friend's pain, but the man let go. And then he was gone, moving down the side of the mountain, his long robes billowing behind him.

He remained still upon the mountain as he had been taught, watching over the domain that Jaron had placed in his care. Cries of fear and pain echoed in his ears, and still he waited, immobile as stone. He did not know how to help them; he could only watch and wait in the darkness, overwhelmed by the chaos, fear and pain that stretched long into the night.

And then, at last, when the barest hint of sunlight reflected over the horizon, the last enemy ship disappeared from his world. Weighted by sorrow, he took to the skies to survey the damage.

A world once lush with life was ashes and fire. The enemy had left only destruction in its wake. Moving beyond the smoldering remnants of the village, something very near the stargate caught his eye. It billowed brightly in the wind against the dried husk of a desiccated corpse. He dropped to the surface alongside the one who had once been his friend. A bracelet of interlocking black and blue-green stone lay upon the remains of the bony wrist, confirming the identity.

With an echoing screech of sorrow that only he could hear, he cried for the loss. After long moments, he gathered the bracelet into his beak and made his way back to the hold. As was his duty, he added the memory of these events to the others.

His brothers joined him there, and as they gathered around the Lake of Reflection, it was decided that they would spread throughout this world, watching and waiting for a new human guardian to come. One with a spirit like Jaron who would be both guardian and friend.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

John blinked his eyes open, startled at the different reality before him. The bright light of the infirmary was at odds with the early pre-dawn light of the Omari sky. The hazy rippling reflection of a darkly feathered head coalesced into the concerned expression of Doctor Jennifer Keller. Standing just over her shoulder was Carson Beckett, looking pensive and worried.

"How are you feeling?" Keller asked, concern heavy in her tone.

John sniffed, drew in a trembling breath and froze. Horror washed over him as he lifted a hand to his face and encountered wetness. Was he crying?

(to be continued)