Chapter 19

John sank gratefully onto the settle and felt his chilled body start to relax as Lil tucked blankets around him; remembering Rodney's words, he wondered if he'd end up with tartan slippers and a cosy drink of warm milk, after all. That would be just fine, as far as John was concerned and he didn't think Rodney would object either, watching him wincing as Carson removed the temporary bandage he'd put on his ankle for the journey and begin wrapping it properly.

Elizabeth sat down next to John with a relieved sigh and Ronon propped his crutches against the table and lowered himself onto a chair. He exchanged a look and a tiny nod with John, which, without words, conveyed support and solidarity and the many things which added up to their friendship. John remembered the men at the bar and wished he had a tankard of ale with which to gesture.

Teyla approached him with a towel. "Your hair is wet. Let me dry it, John."

"I can do that!" he said, grumpily.

She twitched the towel out of his reach and gave him one of those looks that meant he'd better just sit still and take it. She began rubbing his hair.

"You'd better do Rodney, too!"

"I shall!"

"Make his hair stuck up and go all..." He waggled his fingers.

"Fluffy?"

"Yeah."

Teyla stopped rubbing his hair and paused, the towel dangling forgotten from her hand. "I am glad that Councillor Smeadon was finished by a grenza," she said firmly. "It is fitting."

"Poetic justice," agreed Rodney, looking at his foot, which Carson had propped up on a cushioned chair. He wriggled his toes experimentally, looking around with a puzzled expression. "Where's Gard?"

"He still wants the bounty on Smeadon, doesn't he?" said John, shifting uncomfortably as his ribs and arm protested their over-use.

"Oh," said Rodney, with a grimace. "He's collecting up..."

"Evidence," finished John.

Teyla gave his hair a final rub and started on Rodney's and John, warming up nicely, let his eyelids droop.

oOo

Elizabeth watched as a broad grin spread over Carson's face. He'd been becoming steadily more Scottish since he'd accepted a well-deserved 'wee dram' from Lil. Arriving back at the Happy Helg, Carson had taken charge; he'd dealt with Rodney's ankle (sprained, not broken) and made sure it was elevated and iced while he cleaned the cut on Rodney's head; he'd checked John over, despite his drowsy protests, put his arm back in a sling, ("and what happened to the last one, I'd like to know?") and, cutting short John's usual dissembling, with obvious disbelief, had made him take some strong painkillers; he'd even attempted to tend Boudicca's injuries, but she merely hissed dismissively and continued her self-ministrative licking. Elizabeth had caught the priss glaring at her once or twice, but no friendly overtures had been made on either side.

The 'wee dram' had been poured from one of the dusty, top shelf bottles, and had Carson pursing his lips and scrunching up his eyes in what was, apparently, an expression of pleasure. One wee dram led to another, so that when Tam carried in a steaming platter of helg puddings, Elizabeth was surprised when her CMO leapt to his feet and launched into a recitation of Burns' 'Address to a haggis'. Encouraged by the rapt attention of the locals and his friends, he declaimed all eight verses in fine dramatic style, receiving roars of disgusted delight at the 'gushing entrails' and leaving no doubt of the warlike results of a haggis-based diet, by cleaving 'legs and arms and heads' with an imaginary blade.

Tam handed him a real blade which Carson plunged into one of the puddings. Elizabeth was relieved that although the filling did indeed gush forth, it looked considerably more edible than the word 'entrails' implied; she would get the recipe for the Atlantis chefs. Everyone was given a share and there was silence while they enjoyed the rich, savoury taste, apart from Carson's ringing tones coming from next door, where his recitation had been requested and, Elizabeth thought, encored.

She finished her helg pudding and, feeling eyes upon her, looked up to see Boudicca watching her. The priss had finished her bowlful and nudged it with one paw, still watching Elizabeth.

"Yes, it was good," Elizabeth said, thinking it best to speak to Boudicca as she might any member of her team. "Maybe there's more?"

The priss flicked her ears in reply. Elizabeth noticed Rodney watching. John, next to her on the settle, had slumped sideways and his eyes were closed. Teyla was sitting with Ellet on her knee, watching the baby eat pudding with her hands. Tallen was asleep on Grella's lap and Maddy sat under the table, for some reason known only to herself.

Elizabeth felt warm breath on her hand and looked down to see Boudicca sniffing her fingers. The priss looked up at her and then, very deliberately, put a front paw on each of Elizabeth's thighs, so that they were eye-to-eye. It wasn't very comfortable, but Elizabeth stayed still. Then Boudicca put her forehead to Elizabeth's, Athosian style, and she was suddenly lost in the golden wells of the alien eyes. She saw the forest and the animals, Boudicca and others like her; she saw groups of priss, always around a central figure, and she recognised leaders, like herself, with heavy responsibilities and difficult decisions to make. The images faded, the weight disappeared from her thighs. Boudicca went back to her contemplation of the fire and her empty bowl.

"Well?" Rodney looked at her quizzically, his cheeks pink from warmth and food.

Elizabeth frowned. "I think..." she mused. "I think I've been acknowledged as a leader. I'm not sure how she sees my rank relative to hers, though."

"Oh, almost certainly below!" said Rodney. "Just accept it. And anyway, she'd be far easier to satisfy than the IOA!"

Elizabeth smiled her agreement.

oOo

John woke with a start and, he suspected, a snort, judging by the amused expressions coming his way.

"Time you were awa' to your bed, Colonel!" said Carson, still very Scottish.

"Yeah, I guess." John straightened up, feeling like a creaky old piece of furniture and wishing for an Asgard transporter beam to take him directly to blanketed comfort. "Although," he said, taking the mug of something milky-looking and sweet-smelling that had appeared in front of him, "There's something I keep meaning to ask."

"What's that, John?" Elizabeth said, taking a sip from her own mug.

"The grenza," John said, noticing Rodney shudder and shooting him an apologetic look. "Where'd they come from? What'd'you find out, Carson?"

Before Carson could answer, a voice came from beneath the table. "The witch made them! Everyone knows that!"

"It's just a children's tale," said Fren, sitting with his arm round Grella's waist and Tallen, still asleep, over his shoulder. "We don't really know."

Maddy's head popped up and she squirmed her way out from between Carson's and Rodney's legs and forced herself into a space between them. Yes, we do!" she said, indignantly. "There once was an old witch who lived in the far away mountains..."

"Mads, it's just a story..." Fren interrupted.

"Who saw," Maddy continued, glaring repressively at her father, "That the people were afraid of the Wraith."

John regarded Maddy more intently and knew his friends' interest had also sharpened.

"Anyway," Maddy carried on, "it goes on for ages, but... she makes the grenza to protect the people only it all goes wrong, and the grenza kill them instead, and there's a soppy bit where a girl and boy are in love and the girl gets eaten and so on... I don't think much of that bit."

John's eyes met Rodney's, wondering, and then everyone turned to Carson.

"Well," he said, scratching his head tiredly, "there may be a certain element of truth to the tale."

"You've got to be kidding!" Rodney burst out. "A witch?"

Carson shook his head. "Och, no, not a witch. An Ancient."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "What, so you found an Ancients' 'Monsters R Us' label on the DNA?"

Carson shrugged, then took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. "What can I say, Rodney? The Ancient equipment revealed that the DNA had been manipulated, and there were certain artificial markers that had obviously been deliberately placed."

"You really mean it, don't you? said Rodney, his eyes round. "Designer monsters, a gory death for every occasion. I'm going to bed."

"I think we should all go to bed," said Elizabeth.

"I agree," said Grella, heaving herself to her feet and patting her stomach. "This little one's not going to keep for much longer."

Tam brought their helg-drawn sleigh round and the family made their haphazard way outside, saying goodbye to Rodney first, as Carson insisted he keep his weight off his ankle. John wondered how Rodney was going to get upstairs.

The whirling flurries had stopped and the sky was clear once more, shining with scattered stars, which mirrored the jewelled points of frost on the peaks of the undulating snow. Fren shook hands with everyone and then climbed up onto the high seat, taking Tallen and Ellet as casually as if they were parcels, but placing them gently enough on blankets in the bed of the vehicle.

Grella embraced everyone, even Ronon, who looked embarrassed. She gave John a careful hug and whispered in his ear, "If your soldiering ever gets too much, we'd be glad to have you here." John laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling himself blushing with equal pleasure and awkwardness, tinged with the bittersweet knowledge that life in this place would be good, but would probably never be his.

Maddy shook hands with Ronon, hugged him round his waist and then released him, to give him a stern look. "No riding til you're healed," she said.

He replied with a smile and a casual salute and Maddy climbed up and began pestering her father for control of the reins. They drove away amid the hiss of the runners and rolling plumes of snorting helg-breath.

Ronon and Carson turned and went in, and John heard Ronon begin to mutter about "stupid crutches," and Carson respond with, "Och awa and dinna talk mince, ya great numpty!"

Elizabeth winced. "He'll have a sore head in the morning!"

"What is a numpty?" asked Teyla.

John shrugged. "Don't think the Gate's set up to translate drunk Carson."

"I think we can infer that it's not complementary," murmured Elizabeth.

John took a last look up at the stars as they turned to go in, and the easy back-and-forth of gentle humour continued, as they followed the path of welcoming candlelight and firelight to the open door beneath the sign of the Happy Helg.