Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is not mine, and no profits are made from this story. It is a work of fan fiction and for fan enjoyment only.
4: These Dreams
The woman was dressed in diaphanous material of every color, ornamented with jingling coins and chains. She began a slow, sensuous dance that seemed to involve an inordinate amount of hip movement; at regular intervals one of the scarves would come off and slowly be discarded. Finally only the strategic areas were covered, along with the dancer's countenance. Enticingly the veil concealing her visage was removed, revealing, as he had known it would, a passionate Teyla. Her eyes fixed on him, her rhythm increased its tempo to the harmonies of invisible musicians. As she slowly began to unfasten the upper of the two remaining scarves, a hand suddenly shot in front of his mesmerized gaze, hurling a smoking liquid into her face. Screaming, she fell to the ground in agony, hands clutched to her injury. Jumping up, he raced to the side of the moaning young woman as blood began seeping from between her fingers. He pried her hands gently away so he could see the damage; a skull dripping gore stared back at him, then keeled over dead.
Major Sheppard sat bolt upright, gasping for breath. Sweat ran in rivulets down his back and beaded on his forehead; raising a shaking hand, he reached up to wipe them away. 'OK, that was ugly!' He forced a few slow, steady breaths, then gradually felt his heartrate return to normal. Suppressing an irrational desire to try to stumble around the ship until he found their Athosian guide, he rolled over and listened to the sounds of the quiet breathing of his companions. However, he didn't completely relax until he was sure that one of the two sleepers was Teyla.
The night was uncomfortably cold, and McKay cursed himself for agreeing to the last watch. Slapping his upper arms as he paced outside the shuttle, he reflected that at least he didn't have to worry about accidentally falling asleep. It was too frigid to even think about slumber. He startled for the thirtieth time that evening, shining his flashlight at the nearby bushes. 'I'd swear I saw something move!' Still, nothing stirred as he stared intently at the spot. Pulling another purplepeach out of his jacket, he resumed his pacing. He began to circle the ship again, to confirm the perimeter. 'Tomorrow I'm getting the external visual sensors online FIRST, before I even touch the flight controls. There's no way I'm doing this again, when I could be inside where it's warm, doing a more thorough check with the cameras.' He swung around in panic as a scuttling could be heard behind his back, but again there was nothing visible. "I'm letting my nerves get to me," he muttered nervously and walked on, often shooting glances over his shoulder despite his best efforts not to.
The dawn finally came, and with its arrival Rodney headed back inside. Going to their food stash, he grabbed a couple of the purple fruits and went forward to the external sensor array controls. By the time Ford and Teyla were up, he had reestablished their ability to scan 360 degrees outside the ship from the relative safety and warmth of the cockpit.
"Good thinking," commented Ford appreciatively. He hadn't enjoyed his watch outside much, either. Catching sight of the remnants of McKay's breakfast, he asked, "Don't you get tired of those things?"
McKay got defensive. "If I don't eat regularly, I get hypoglycemic; if I get hypoglycemic, I don't think clearly. If I don't think clearly, we end up doing unnecessary things like standing watch outside in the cold."
The lieutenant held his hands up in surrender. "Hey, I didn't mean anything. It's just that personally, I like a little variety to my diet." So saying, he grabbed a handful of nuts and started shelling them.
Rodney's feathers smoothed as he realized the actual point of the comment hadn't been his continual eating. Shrugging, he replied, "For right now, I feel like I could eat these all day. What was it that the natives said about them?"
Ford chuckled. "That they would help 'make us brave', 'free us from fear', or something like that."
Teyla came up to where they were speaking. "The actual phrase was, 'separate you from your fears'."
Ford snapped his fingers. "Yep, that was it." He assumed the sing-song sonorous tones of the priest as he quoted, "This sacred fruit will separate you from your deepest fears, that you may look at them for what they really are."
Rodney looked dubiously at the half-eaten fruit in his hand. "I don't know; I felt more frightened last night after eating several. It must have some cultural reference that we're not privy to." He thought for a moment, then continued, "Still, I like them."
"Hey, if you're talking about those pitless purple peaches, I kind of like them, too." Sheppard's voice had improved with a good night's sleep.
"Then by all means you shall have them." Teyla was at his side instantly, placing one in his hand after helping him sit up. While he ate, she removed his bandages and cleaned the wounds. The swelling had gone down just slightly, but several of the lacerations seemed to be getting infected. She dug an antiseptic from the first aid kit and applied it to some of the deeper cuts.
John hissed as the stinging fluid touched the angrier wounds, but quickly controlled himself and allowed her to continue. When it was clear she was done, he asked, "What about the eyes? Do we need to wash them out again?"
"I am afraid that the light might damage them permanently if we allow them to open." She looked to Ford for support.
"Yeah, we ought to wait until Beckett can examine you," he readily agreed.
Sheppard sighed in frustration, but had to admit that permanent optic nerve damage as a result of impatience would be...well, stupid. "How about I try to help with the repairs?" he suggested to get his mind off his eyesight.
"Nothing personal Major, but right now you can't see; how can you help?" McKay was disdainful, but curious.
"I don't know for certain; I just seem so linked to the Ancient technology that I wonder if it wouldn't sense my handicap and take it into account."
Ford glanced at Rodney and shrugged. "Couldn't hurt." At McKay's nod, he helped the Major up and guided him to the demolished panel. Carefully feeling the pilot's chair before settling himself into it, he reached a cautious hand toward the blown-out components.
The moment his skin made contact, the viewscreen lit up with schematics, with the damaged components in red. "Hey, can you guys see this?" he asked.
McKay answered. "Yes, we can; can you?"
"It's like it's being drawn in my brain." He paused and concentrated. "OK, now I'm thinking about 'How do we fix it?'" A panel between the two front seats popped open, revealing a rather complete tool chest, as well as replacement parts. Ford scurried forward and collected it.
"Perfect." The lieutenant looked first at the panel, then at the diagram. "OK, sir, see if it will remain up after you take your hand away."
After concentrating on his desire to leave the schematics up, Sheppard slowly removed his hand. Unfortunately, the layouts immediately vanished.
"I guess you'd better get settled for a long sit."
TBC....
AN: FFnet still isn't counting 'hits' on stories – it says I have 0 hits on chapters 2 and 3, but I have several reviews on each chapter, so unless you guys have developed psychic powers, I'm guessing you read the chapter first. Anybody know how to fix this? I prefer watching the numbers on how many people read each chapter rather than begging for reviews. To whom do I report the problem? Anyone else having this difficulty? Thanks for your help!