So, what happened to John when he crashed his airboard? Will he get into trouble? Will Kolya get into trouble? And how exactly do you play Skybattle? Read on to find out!

Chapter 6

John's head hurt. And quite a few other things hurt too. What had happened? Had Ryan given him another beating? No, this was worse. What, then? He opened his eyes and was grateful for the dim light. Blurs resolved themselves into unfamiliar shapes and colours. John turned his head, half expecting the room to spin around him. It didn't. Can't be too bad then, he thought.

He was puzzled for a moment, then remembered. Atlantis. Atlantis Academy was his home, for now at least, and this was the infirmary, which he really should have recognised sooner, seeing as he'd spent a significant amount of his time there already.

There was a man, facing away from him. He seemed to be searching a rack of equipment, sliding the drawers in and out and rifling through the contents. He took out a clear plastic visor, put it to his face and looked around the room.

"Oh. You're awake." Professor O'Neill glanced sheepishly at the visor and then at John. "Better put this back," he said.

John felt he should say something, but wasn't sure what would fit the situation. What did you say to your Headteacher when you'd hurtled off the top of the highest tower of his school on a flimsy airboard and nearly got yourself killed?

The Professor stuck his hands in his pockets. "So, you had an interesting day yesterday."

"Yesterday?"

"Yeah. You've lost a few hours. Doc Fraiser thought you might have a bit of a headache or you'd be able to see the sunlight." The Professor wandered across to the window, twitched an edge of the blind aside and peered out. "Yep. It's a fine day."

John bit his lower lip. He'd say it, before the Professor did. He knew it was coming. "They won't take me back." The Head turned around and frowned at him. "They won't take me back and I wouldn't go even if they did."

"Okay, so what are we talking about here?"

"My last foster placement. They dumped me at the station. You'll have to find someone else."

"Someone else... " The Professor sucked in air between his teeth. "See, I thought you liked it here."

"I do!"

"So, why're you talking about moving on, then?"

John closed his eyes. His throat hurt and his chest felt tight. Causing trouble equalled moving on. It always had. "Because you won't want me here after that… after what I did."

"Won't I?"

The bed dipped. John opened his eyes. The Professor was perching on the edge of the mattress.

"That's what happens to you, is it? Folks give up on you? Send you on your way?"

John nodded.

O'Neill's eyes glittered and his mouth thinned into a grim line. Here it comes, thought John. "Not here, they don't. Not on my watch. We don't leave anyone behind and we don't send anyone away."

"But -"

"No one. You got that, Sheppard? You're on my team now. So no matter what crazy shi- er… stunt you pull, you're stuck with me. Got it?"

John nodded again, unable to speak.

"And besides…" The Head returned to his usual mocking tone. "I need you to keep an eye on McKay."

"On Rodney?"

"Yeah. See, your kind of trouble, it's pretty localised, you know? Likely to stay within the bounds of the continent, maybe even this fair valley. Rodney McKay…" The Professor shook his head. "That kid's got global disaster written all over him. Maybe global thermonuclear disaster. Maybe even bigger than global. Who knows?" He shrugged. "The way I see it, either you two'll balance each other out, or your friend Miss Emmagan'll whip both your asses until you see sense. How is Teyla?"

"She's okay, I guess."

"Hmm. We've had plenty of kids from Athos House. Sometimes they find it difficult to fit in."

"She's got friends."

"You and Rodney and the little turtle-guy."

"Carson." John closed his eyes, relief flooding through his battered body.

"You okay? Want me to get the Doc?"

"I'm fine."

"Huh. Right. I saw you when they brought you in."

John wriggled his body to assess the damage. It moved okay and nothing was in plaster. He just felt bruised all over and really tired. "Uh…"

"Uh?"

"So, you're not gonna do anything?"

"Do…? Oh, you mean punishment." The professor ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, well, yeah, there'll have to be some kinda punishment."

"I guess it was pretty dangerous."

"Ya think?"

John couldn't help smiling. "You won't… you won't stop me flying, will you?"

"I don't think you'll be going to lessons."

"Oh."

"It's not like you need them, is it?"

"No."

"So, I think for something so serious, a weekly detention is in order. For the rest of term. If not the year."

"Oh." That was more than John expected. But just because the Professor wasn't going to expel him didn't mean he was going to go easy on him either.

"You and Kolya."

This was hardly compensation, especially if they had to do it together.

"Kolya can do his time with Professor Theodorus."

They deserve each other, thought John, sourly.

"You can spend yours getting some extra control over your abilities. Teal'c can help you out there. Or maybe Ronon."

John had liked Teal'c, but for some reason he was more drawn to Ronon. "Could it be Ronon, please? Er, I mean Mr Dex?"

"I don't see why not. You could do with a better older-brother-type role model."

John shrank into the blankets.

"Yes, Doc Fraiser told me about that. I'll be looking into it."

"You won't -"

"I won't let any official types get to you, no. In fact, asking around, nobody in the fostering service seems to have heard of you."

"But they must have! The people that took me from one placement to the next, they'll remember me."

"Who were they? D'you ever see ID?"

John shook his head. "They were just men in suits. Or women in suits. Just suits, in the end. I didn't care. And they didn't."

"Well I do. All the staff here do. You know that now, don't you?"

"Yeah."

The Professor stood up. "So, that's two things to organise - detention with R - er Mr Dex and finding out who the he- er, who's been in charge of you all these years." He turned to go and spun back. "Three things! Professor Weir wants you on the Athar House Skybattle team ASAP."

"She does?"

"There's no point trying to back out now, Sheppard. What Weir wants, Weir gets!" He nodded sharply, turned around and then once again spun back. "Four things! Your friends want to come for a visit - are you up for that?"

John's head ached and he felt he could sleep for a week. "Yes, definitely."

"Okay. See you later, then." Professor O'Neill flicked him a casual salute and sauntered away.

oOo

Teyla nodded. "A very wise decision."

"What? Sheppard nearly got himself killed! And you think rewarding him with more extreme danger is a good thing?"

Teyla pushed the chocolate bar away from Rodney's nervous hands and toward John. "Yes. I think for John to have an outlet for his energy is a very good thing." Although, she thought, Jinto and Wex were on the House team and they still got into trouble. But maybe the risk-taking and danger involved in playing Skybattle would be enough for John. She recalled once again the lurch of his airboard just as she'd thought he would land safely. He'd bounced across the hard earth and then lain still and her fear for his life had been sickening.

John had pushed the chocolate back toward Rodney, who was busily breaking squares off and posting them into his mouth. He chose to be angry and eat chocolate rather than show his concern for his friend. Nobody at Athos House would behave like that, but perhaps John would not welcome too much open concern.

When they had entered the infirmary, John had appeared almost his normal self, rather than the pale, limp, bloodstained figure that had been carried away the previous evening. Teyla had been very afraid for him. But today, although he had a white square dressing on his forehead and bandages on his elbows, he was alert and smiling and joined in their conversation.

"Where's Carson?"

"Detention," said Rodney, through a mouthful of chocolate. He wiped his chin. "Got to help out in the biology labs."

"He'll probably like that. Is Hamish okay?"

"Miraculously, yes. Once they'd pried him out of your frozen grip and warmed him up a bit, Carson says he was none the worse for his flying lesson. I think Carson's going to tidy your share of the room when he's done with his detention."

"What? Why?"

"You saved the life of his pet, John," said Teyla.

"Oh. Yeah." John fiddled with the edge of the blanket. "But he doesn't have to do that."

"Oh, well, maybe you could get him to do mine, then."

"Rodney!"

"What? If Carson's feeling guiltily grateful it's only fair someone should get the benefit."

"You must not take advantage of your friend." Teyla glared until Rodney looked away.

"Well, okay. Just seems like a waste."

She held out her hand for the chocolate and broke off a square. "So, you will be having private lessons with Ronon, John."

"Officially it's detention," said John. "But, yeah. When you guys are having your weekly flying lesson I get to go and do stuff with Ronon."

"What's he going to teach you? Caveman stuff? How to live in the wild? Fight bears?"

"Rodney! You should not judge by appearances. I would imagine Ronon is very skilled in any number of disciplines."

"Yes, I'm sure his analyses of the classics of literature are erudite and sophisticated."

Teyla subjected Rodney to a meaningful stare and raised eyebrow. He shrank, visibly. John sniggered.

"Okay, no, you're right, I shouldn't judge by appearances. But I bet he does know about survival. And fighting bears."

Some of Jinto and Wex's stories sprung to Teyla's mind. What if they were true?

"Survival skills. Cool," said John. "I'd like to learn that. But it'll probably just be more lighting stuff up."

"And trying not to blow it up," added Rodney. "What? You look like you know more than you're telling, Emmagan. Come on, give!"

"It is just that there may be some truth in what you say, only Jinto and Wex have a tendency to exaggerate and I am not sure…"

"What, about living in the wild?" asked Rodney. "Why not? I bet Ronon makes his own clothes out of things he's hunted."

"I mean about bears. Or at least, not bears but other creatures that are rumoured to inhabit the forest to the south of the academy." Perhaps it was not wise to tell her friends, especially John, who would no doubt want to find out for himself. But they would hear the old tales sooner or later anyway.

"Monsters?" John grinned at Rodney. "A monster-infested forest?"

"No," said Rodney. "Don't even think about it - no picnics in the forest. Ever. Anyway, it's out-of-bounds. And your friends must be making it up, Teyla."

"I do not think so." She rearranged herself to sit cross-legged on John's bed, feeling like she was about to tell a scary tale around a campfire. "It is said that when the Ancients inhabited this place, sometimes they would bring creatures back through the Gate to study."

"Experiment on, more like," said Rodney. "And what, let me guess, some of them escaped?"

"Yes. More than once the Ancients were not able to contain the creatures and they escaped into the surrounding countryside. It is said that some of them survived and adapted and that their descendents still inhabit the darkest depths of the forest, where no one has set foot in thousands of years."

Rodney smirked. "You tell a good story, Teyla. 'The darkest depths of the forest'. Well, I would say I'll believe it when I see it, but I don't have any intention of entering the forest, ever, so I'll just stick with total disbelief."

"Maybe Ronon'll take me in."

"You see, Teyla? So much for Skybattle as an outlet for crazy risk-taking. This kid's not going to be happy until he's hunting genuine, kill-you-and-eat-you-for-a-snack monsters."

Rodney could protest all he liked. If John suggested a trip into the forest, he'd follow. And if they both went, Teyla realised, she'd have to go too, to protect them. She would need to devise an extremely efficient homework schedule to allow plenty of time for detentions. "I think you should recover from one adventure before embarking on the next, John."

"I'm fine." The shadows beneath John's eyes had deepened and his jaw was taut.

Rodney snorted and popped the last of the chocolate in his mouth. "You are so not fine, Sheppard. We should go and let you get some rest."

"Just what I was about to say." Doctor Fraiser's brisk tread approached. "I think that's a long enough visit for now."

Teyla slid off the bed. Rodney snatched up the chocolate wrappers and got down too.

"I'm okay, Doc," said John. "When can I get out of here?"

"Maybe tomorrow. We'll see."

"You have to let me out tomorrow. I need to be ready for lessons on Monday!"

"I don't have to do anything, young man! But if you rest now and get a good night's sleep you'll be in with a better chance, won't you? Say goodbye to your friends."

"See you later, guys."

Teyla bent her head and touched her forehead to John's. She would have liked to put her arms around him and press into him her relief at his lucky escape, but was afraid of hurting him.

"Oh, I was going to leave you the rest of the chocolate, but, uh…"

"That's okay, Rodney."

oOo

Despite his eagerness to return to school life, lessons at the beginning of the week were not pleasant for John. He was still very stiff from his crash landing, and although he was usually flanked by Teyla and Rodney, often with Carson scuttling behind, the busy, boisterous, rush between lessons inevitably resulted in some additional knocks. These were exacerbated by Kolya's goons who were perpetually in the way, treading on heels, stopping suddenly in front of him and his friends and dropping their bags at the tops of flights of stairs or on corners where they were most likely to cause trouble.

Kolya himself remained aloof, but John guessed the bully wouldn't hesitate to take any opportunity to hurt him or his friends as long as he himself could retain the appearance of innocence. They would all have to be on their guard.

By the Wednesday, though, the worst of his stiffness had gone and, when lessons were over for the day, John was heartily glad to shrug off his status as a fragile person in need of protection, shed his self-appointed bodyguards and follow Evan Lorne out into the fading sunshine and down the path to where the airboards were stored.

Evan slapped his hand on the control panel of a low, rounded building and the door slid open. There were racks and racks of boards in different sizes, some old and worn, some gleaming new, others with a patina of age, but lovingly cared-for.

"These are owned by older kids." Evan gestured to the well cared-for boards. "Don't touch them if you value your life. This one's mine." He patted a gleaming golden-orange board. He pointed to a different rack. "Those are the ones the first-years use. Most of them are okay, but nothing special."

"I liked the one I had. We... bonded, I guess." John scratched at his hair, feeling silly.

"I know what you mean," said Evan. "Some boards just feel like, well, just boards. Others kind of wake up when you get on. Took me ages to choose mine, but when I found it, I just knew. Can you see the one you had?"

Had it survived the crash? John hadn't thought to ask. He scanned the racks of beaten-up boards, the years of use showing in their scratches and dents. Maybe it had been damaged beyond repair. His eyes were drawn to a scuffed shape. "There it is." John smiled as he pulled the battered black and white board out of the rack and ran his hand over the surface and around the edge. Rough patches caught at his skin and there was a chip out of one side, but it felt right.

Evan crouched down and he too ran his hands over the board. "Some of this'll come out with a bit of attention," he said. "This…" He frowned and sucked his lower lip as he rubbed the jagged chip in the side. "I reckon a bit of fibreglass might fix this. Then you could rub the whole thing down and repaint, make it good as new."

"Maybe," said John. He kind of liked the well-used look. It had character.

"Bring it," said Evan. "I'll get the balls."

John hauled the board out into the sunlight. The shadows of the towers were long and it was definitely darker at this time than it had been the week before. He pulled his jacket closer around him and zipped it up. Teyla had sewn up the tears from his crash landing and John's new jacket now had darning marks on the elbows and in various other places, but maybe the well-used look suited him as well as it did the airboard.

Evan set down a case on the grass next to him and opened it up.

"Uh, I thought we were going to go to the Skybattle pitch."

The older boy smiled. "We did," he said.

John looked around for goals, or markings on the short grass or stands for spectators.

Evan got up and walked back to the storage tower. He opened a panel in the side and pressed a sequence of buttons. There was a pop and a continuous hum above John's head. He looked up.

A huge, shimmering blue cuboid hovered in the air between the taller towers.

"That's your pitch," said Evan. "There's a reason it's called Skybattle."

"Wow."

"Yup. Cool, isn't it? Look, I'll show you the balls."

He opened the case. In the centre was an oval ball, like a small football. Flanking it were two rubbery-looking electric blue tennis balls.

"This one here," said Evan, "that's the pointer. Because you score points with it. Well, I do, at least, because I'm an attacker."

"How d'you score points?" John squinted up at the humming blue forcefield. He tried to estimate the size of the rectangular base - as big as a football pitch? No. More like the fenced-off area at one of his old schools, where there'd been four tennis courts. But it was at least as high as it was wide.

"I'll take you up in a minute and show you," said Evan. "But you're going to be a catcher, so these are the little devils you'll be looking out for." He took out one of the blue balls and passed it to John. "Don't squeeze it."

It felt like a squishy stress ball. It was tempting to give it a squeeze. "What's it called? And why d'you need three balls?"

"These blue ones are the zips."

"Doesn't look very zippy."

"Huh. That's all you know! Come on, I'll show you what they do." Evan jumped to his feet, carrying the pointer. "Keep hold of the zip," he said. "Oh, and you'll need a stick."

"A stick?"

Evan disappeared into the store room and there was clattering and a certain amount of swearing. He came out. "Why other teams can't keep the place tidy is beyond me. Here, take this." He gave John a stick.

"Is this a la-what-d'you-call-it stick?" It was long; longer than a hockey stick, with a kind of net at one end made of metal links like you'd get in a suit of medieval chain mail.

"Lacrosse? It's a bit like that, but look at the other end."

"Huh." The other end was shaped like a baseball bat. "So I'm guessing we catch with one end and whack with the other."

"There you go, you're a natural!" Lorne grinned. "Can you fly holding those?"

"Sure."

"Okay, so we head for the corner nearest us. There's a kind of gateway where you can push through the forcefield if you go slow."

John put down the ball and stick to take his shoes and socks off.

"You ride barefoot?"

John shrugged. "Feels right."

"Fair enough."

The board felt pleased to see him. John spread out his toes, stuck the zip in his pocket and held the stick in both hands. Evan had tucked the pointer under his arm. He grinned at John as his board lifted off and John followed him up to the corner of the blue box, which was about twenty feet off the ground. The barrier fizzed over John's skin as he passed slowly through.

"Can you see the goals now?"

For a moment he couldn't - there were no wooden posts, no hoops, no nets. But then movement caught John's eye; a large patch of darker blue moved at random around the far end wall. He looked up. There was another directly above him, moving in a straight line, then curving off or spiralling, with no predictable pattern. And, as he watched, the circular patch grew and contracted so that at one moment scoring would be easy and the next it would need considerably more skill.

"That's crazy."

"Watch." Evan shot off toward the far end, jinking and weaving as if he were dodging players. Then, still flying fast, he drop-kicked the ball and it smacked into the moving goal-patch, which briefly flared red. Evan swooped down to retrieve the ball where it had come to rest against the floor of the forcefield and then returned to John.

"Score ten for us," he said.

"What about this thing?" John pulled the zip out of his pocket.

"Squeeze it hard, then throw it," said Evan. "And be ready with your stick."

John flew into the centre of the box. He squeezed the ball, felt something hard give inside it and it hummed to life, buzzing and vibrating in his hand. He threw it toward one of the side walls. It zinged away from him, bounced off the wall and returned, hurtling toward his head. John twisted to one side.

"Smack it when it comes back," shouted Lorne.

The zinging was approaching before he'd had a chance to turn. John spun round and was just in time to deflect the ball with the bat end of his stick. It shot off at a diagonal, ricocheted off the side wall and headed for the goal end, losing none of its momentum.

"What's the point of these things?"

"Distraction," said Lorne. "Don't let it hit you - it really stings."

Okay, so his role would be to defend his team from the zips and use them to attack the other team. Sounded good. The zip had hit the end wall, bounced off the side wall again and was zooming toward his end. John followed its path, moved to intercept it, brought his hands a little closer together on his stick and whacked it as hard as he could toward Evan.

The older boy laughed and twisted to avoid it. "You won't hit me," he said. "Not with just us in here."

"How many are on the team?"

"Eight," said Evan. Three attackers, two defenders, two catchers and a goalie. Team practice is Monday and Thursday evenings, which you will never miss. The first house match is in just over two weeks. Against Janus. You'll need to practice hard and be ready, because as a first-year they'll see you as a weak link. They will try to take you down."

"Nice," said John. He spread his hands on his stick, twisted round while swinging out the chain end and neatly caught the zip.

oOo

Rodney's fingers skittered over the keys of his laptop. Nearly finished. Not that the homework had been anything remotely approaching a challenge, and he really, really wished there was a bit more. A lot more. He risked a quick up-and-down glance. They were still at it.

Another flick of a glance revealed that John's gaze was resolutely fixed on his airboard; Evan Lorne was helping him fix a dent with epoxy resin and fibreglass, which pungent aroma Rodney rather liked. As if he'd felt Rodney's eyes upon him, John looked up. Rodney grimaced a 'What the hell?' expression and rolled his eyes toward the culprits. John blushed and his eyes fell again.

Rodney returned to his homework and rattled away the last possible sentences he could squeeze out toward the topic: 'How did the Ancients influence prehistoric Earth societies?' Then, mercifully, there was a creak of ancient springs and one of the two six formers, who'd been openly snogging on a sagging couch - actual face-plastered-to-face snogging - got up, coyly waved her goodnight and left the common room. Thank God.

"Love," sneered Rodney. "Highly overrated."

John laughed. "Yeah, just because Professor Carter hasn't fallen for your baby-blues!"

This was patently ridiculous. "My interest in Professor Carter is purely professional."

"Right. So it doesn't piss you off at all that she treats you like her special little prince. Like a Mommy's boy," added John with relish.

"Trust me," said Rodney dryly. "She doesn't act like my Mom. Neither of them. 'Don't play with corrosive chemicals, Meredith! No carcinogens at the dinner table, Meredith! No ordering gamma rays over the internet, Meredith!' As if you could! A source of gamma rays! A source! Is that too much to ask? Apparently, yes it is!"

He shut his laptop with a snap.

John left his board leaning against the platform steps where he'd been sitting. "Thanks, Evan."

"Any time, John."

Rodney shifted over to make room on his rock for John. The rocks around the campfire were all occupied, Teyla and Carson and other children all bent over their homework, or maybe plotting, in the case of Jinto and Wex.

"It's not doing Professor Brown any favours," said Rodney.

"What isn't?"

"Love." He couldn't seem to say it without a sneer. "Today's lesson was a travesty."

Carson looked up from his work. "I enjoyed it."

Rodney flipped open his laptop again, stabbed a few keys and swung it around. "Look! It clearly states here in the syllabus that we had three more lessons to complete of this botany unit. Insect life cycles weren't supposed to be for another four weeks. And besides that…" He rotated the laptop a smart one-eighty and snapped it shut again. "Did you see her at dinner? Mooning and being mooned over by Professor Jackson?"

"Everyone should have a chance at love, Rodney," Teyla murmured. She sucked the end of her pencil and then scribbled something down.

"Maybe so, but if it's making her forget to take off her gardening gloves for dinner, there's something wrong."

"Did she?" Carson frowned. "I didn't notice."

John yawned. "She can wear full hazmat gear for all I care." He squirmed around on the rock. Taking up more than his fair share. Rodney squirmed to re-establish his territory.

"When will it be dry, Evan? Enough to fly?"

Evan looked up from polishing his already perfectly polished board. "Give it at least twenty four hours. And then it'll need sanding smooth."

"Hmm."

Rodney nudged him. "Come on, you can last that long, Sheppard."

"Yeah." John looked up at the ceiling.

Evan's rhythmic polishing movements paused. "No," he said, his firm gaze resting on John. "Absolutely no flying in the common room." He resumed smoothing the cloth down the length of his board. "Not that it hasn't been tried."

Jinto and Wex sniggered.

Rodney recognised Anne Teldy's voice floating down from the mini control area. "You can preach, Lorne, but it wasn't Jinto or Wex who cracked the balcony window and ended up in the infirmary."

Evan continued to shine his board, his air of innocence ruined by the upward curl of one corner of his mouth. And the red points on his cheeks.

John glanced over his shoulder at the stairs leading up to the mezzanine and the sliding doors to the balcony.

"That's a speculative look, isn't it? I can tell," said Rodney.

"It'd be cool to fly off the balcony," said John.

Everyone within earshot took in a breath and a resounding, "No!" converged on Rodney's friend. But John just grinned.

I hope you enjoyed that chapter! The next one is well underway, so shouldn't be more than a couple of days - so many juicy situations to write!