Part Five Into the Night (xiv)

John was prowling back and forth in the cave's entrance. Jenp had made a little conversation then lapsed into silence in deference to John's lack of enthusiastic sociability, his eyes travelled repeatedly from Teyla to John and back again like he was bouncing his thoughts between them.

John's headset crackled and his feet nearly left the floor. "Yes! Rodney?"

"John, gates open! Jumper's on its way and I've told them to come straight to you."

Sheppard finally let go of the breath he'd been holding, "That's great Rodney, we'll pick you up on the way."

"No," snapped Rodney. "Just let me know when the jumper clears the gate, don't waste time."

"Okay, thanks." John turned; rolling his shoulders to get rid of the tension cramps and went to check on Teyla's vitals. Her pulse thudded under his fingers slow and steady, aside for a greyish tinge to her skin she looked simply asleep.

"We can give you a ride down the hill," he told Jenp without looking at him.

"No," said Jenp simply.

John stood up and frowned down at the old man. "You want to walk? It would be safer to come with us."

Jenp shook his head gently and smiled. "Can't go back down, my soul belongs here now." His smile stretched and his eyes softened, John thought with regret, but the expression was gone almost instantly. His smile widened to a wicked, happy grin and his eyes twinkled.

John goggled at him; of course he remembered what Teyla had told him about the Tipikan's beliefs but it hadn't occurred to him what Jenp had actually done. He pushed a hand through his hair, making the top stand up in cockatoo tufts and ridiculously reminding him that he needed a haircut. "Look, I respect your beliefs but you know that your soul won't really come out of your body if you walk down the hill, so come on." He hunkered down in front of the old man, placing a hand on his knee and shaking him gently.

Jenp shrugged. "So you believe, but your soul is your problem," he grinned again, "my soul is mine." He shifted, settling more comfortably on the floor. "I chose to walk up the hill," his eyes laughed up at John. "When you're as old as me maybe you'd walk up the hill too?"

John opened his mouth and closed it, looking around the cave as if he could find the right argument written up on the walls. "Look, don't think I don't appreciate you coming because if you hadn't Teyla would," he puffed out his cheeks, "Teyla would be dead. Probably," he added. "But I'm not going to let you sit up here and starve when I can have you down the hill in thirty seconds. So, come on." He slipped a hand under Jenp's elbow. "Our ride will be here in a minute, we'll sort this out when we get to the bottom. Or you can come to Atlantis for a while; if you're so sure that your soul is stuck up here then travelling through a gate shouldn't be an issue."

The warmth drained out of Jenp's eyes so fast it froze John; he found himself snatching his hand away from the old man's elbow as if it had given him ice burns.

"You will not take me anywhere," said Jenp. It wasn't the quaver of an old man, it was the bark of someone who knew how to command. "I am in the right place and when my body dies my soul will be where it belongs, with the soul of my wife and my daughter who died before she was born and my son who died when the river flooded and my two grandchildren who fell in the canyon and my cousin who died when the forest flamed." The old man punctuated every lost relation with a jab of his finger. "And everyone else who I have lost and all my ancestors until the beginning of this world. And," his voice rose without the slightest tremor, stating a fact, not pleading a case and John knew that to argue anymore would be pointless, "you will not take that away from me. You will not condemn me to nothingness without those I love."

John opened and shut his mouth, his voice lost somewhere. He stared into the man's old, faded eyes and they were steady on his, immovable. "Okay," he said softly, "I can't make you come with me, or at least, " his mouth quirked but there was no true humour in it, "I could but what would be the point?"

Jenp nodded decisively. "There would be none," he said with dignity and a glimmer of returning humour. "You bring me down, I walk back up, if," he said, head on one side, considering, "my people don't stone my empty body until it my breath is gone too."

John sagged. "Thank you for coming to help Teyla." He dropped a hand onto the old man's shoulder and squeezed.

Stones rattled in the entrance of the cave; a worried looking Lieutenant appeared blocking the light and was joined by someone else carrying a stretcher. "Colonel?"

John stood up, "Time to go."