AN: This chapter might upset some people. I want to say that this is a work of fiction. I am not in any way inferring that this chapter represents reality. It is based upon a fictional television show, and therefore it is not my personal feelings or belief, but a story meant to enterain. I love to create plots that shock, or keep you on the edge of your seat, or even leave you thinking "What the..." so please keep that in mind when reading. Thanks Gaffer for the Beta!


Chapter Eleven

Deus, Meus Deus (God, My God)


Ford paced the length of their camp. Out of boredom, and an attempt at keeping himself awake and alert, he had counted out the steps. It was forty steps up, forty steps back. Twenty seconds up, twenty seconds back. Ten breaths in, and ten breaths out. The night was winding it's way out at a snail's pace.

It had been uneventful. For the past two hours he hadn't heard anything, but the quiet, regular inhalations and exhalations of the others. It was a small source of comfort in this eerie mausoleum, assuring him that he wasn't alone. He turned on a heel; one, two, three.

He had made it to twenty-three when he heard something new. He froze, holding even his breath, and listened. There! He heard a small sound of feet on the floor, coming their way, a click-clacking, as if long pointy finger nails where being tapped upon a table out of boredom. He crept to the Major's side, praying Beckett was wrong, and he could wake him up. He didn't speak, but shook the Major roughly. Sheppard started to wake, and Ford quickly placed a finger on the Major's lips, so he wouldn't speak out loud.

John came awake, and before he could ask what was wrong, the finger against his lips by Ford brought him instantly alert. His eyes snapped open the rest of the way, and he pushed himself up, silently, and quickly. Ford gestured towards the middle of the room, and mimicked feet walking by moving his index and middle finger of his right hand in a walking motion in the air. Sheppard nodded, and grabbed Ford's arm, pointing at him to wake the others.

It didn't take long before everyone was assembled, their backs to the wall, and eyes forward, weapons gripped as tight as their nerves were stretched. Their uniforms were rumpled, eyes bloodshot, but each and every one of them, including Beckett, stood prepared to face the imminent unknown. The echoes of the footsteps were growing nearer. Somebody was approaching their location. Not a word was uttered.

Sheppard was the first to see him. As the man walked towards them, lights lit up, as if he were throwing unseen switches, as he progressed towards them. His clothes were the same color as the Ancient woman in the holographic message they'd seen back in Atlantis. It was eggshell white; he knew that because of his ex-girlfriend. She had talked him into helping paint her living room last summer. He'd thought the color was as boring as her, and it'd been his parting gift to their relationship. She'd been more interested in decorating, and planning their future, rather than working on the relationship itself.

The man also seemed old, an ancient Ancient. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sheppard smiled. He seemed fragile, white hair, and lined features with wrinkles so deep you wondered where one stopped and a new one began. John swallowed. There hadn't been any sense in hiding. This guy obviously knew they were here. The good news was he didn't seem to be armed.

"Welcome to Gero," the man said, opening his arms wide, in a welcoming offer.

Sheppard stepped forward. "I'm Major -"

"John Sheppard," the old man smiled. "I know who you are, Major. And you, Lieutenant Ford, Doctor McKay, Teyla Emmagen, and Doctor Beckett."

"I'm sorry," Sheppard cocked his head slightly, puzzled. "Have we met?" John knew they hadn't but in this corner of the galaxy stranger things had happened. It was a polite way of saying, who the hell are you, and how do you know us.

The man shook his head, and smiled kindly. "No, my name is Gigno. This is my home." He swept his hands wide again, an encompassing of the room.

"This is your home?" McKay asked. "You built this? Are you an Ancient?" he asked bluntly. Rodney was making the assumption between line A and line B. Ancient building, Ancient body, equals Ancient being.

Gigno smiled noncommittally. "I am who I am, Doctor McKay. If that is an Ancient for your people, then I am an Ancient."

"What is the purpose of this building?" Teyla was certain that they had many questions, but she wanted to see what level of information this being would offer. Usually those that should be feared would offer little, while those who could be trusted, offered much.

"I believe there are many questions, but perhaps we might retire to better accommodations?" Gigno offered, a hand indicated back the way he'd come. "I have food, and we may discuss everything in comfort."

Sheppard tried to get a feel for this man. There weren't any alarms ringing in his heart, or mind, and Gigno seemed entirely harmless, but that bothered him more than anything. An old man, by himself, with no defenses? The odds were that he did have defenses, and lulling strangers into underestimating his abilities was probably a tactic.

"Can we have a moment to discuss this?" Sheppard asked.

Gigno nodded, amicably. "I understand."

John turned to the others, and with tacit agreement, they walked a short way from the old man. McKay was the most vocal, no surprise. "I think we should go."

"Why? What if it's a trap?" Sheppard countered.

"What's he going to do, Major, beat you to death with his cane?"

John wanted to point out the old man didn't have a cane, but he knew McKay's barb wasn't meant to be taken at face value. His point was that the old man probably wouldn't stand a chance in hell of hurting a flea, let alone trained soldiers. "Appearances can be deceiving, McKay, you should know that."

Teyla put her arm between the two men, who had unwittingly gotten closer to each other. "Major, Doctor McKay, stop it, both of you." She waited till both men pulled back. She wasn't going to let them get involved in exchanging words. "He may have the answers we need, Major." McKay brightened, thinking Teyla was supporting his stance, but his smile fell as she continued. "He may pose a threat as well."

"You're a lot of help," Beckett said, flustered by the turn of events.

Teyla glared at the Scotsman. "I am merely saying we should listen to the old man, but be careful as well."

John realized one member hadn't voiced an opinion. "Ford?" he prodded.

Ford was holding his weapon more loosely than before, and for a change seemed to be the most relaxed of all of them. "I agree with Teyla."

"That's it?" John looked at his second-in-command with surprise. "You agree with Teyla? No words of wisdom or warnings?"

"No, Sir."

Sheppard looked back at Gigno, who offered a friendly wave when he saw the Major's attention falling on him. He looked the epitome of innocence, like someone's favorite Grandpa, picking up the kids for a fishing trip in July. John turned back to his team. "We'll go, but, be careful, for all we know he's looking at making an addition to his little collection."

Sheppard walked up to the old man. "We accept your generous offer. If you can give us a few minutes, we'll clean up our mess."

Gigno peered around Sheppard at their rough camp. "It's not necessary, Major. Your belongings will be safe where they are."

Sheppard shrugged, casting a look at the others, who seemed to offer the same indifferent opinion. They'd leave the gear behind, but take their weapons. He wasn't eager to put themselves in a position of total dependence. "Lead the way," he held his hand out.

Gigno inclined his head ever so slightly, and turned, leading them back the way he had come. "I see you have suffered an injury."

"A misunderstanding with some of the local wildlife," John explained.

"Misunderstanding?" the old man asked, looking at Sheppard out of the corner of his eyes, as he led them through a row of cubes. In one of the cubes was a Trilobite.

"It thought we were dinner."

"I see," Gigno paused. "You didn't hurt the animal, did you?"

Sheppard felt a spike of discomfort. Gigno was continuing to lead them towards the center of the room, and though his question seemed to leave only one option for a preferred answer, he didn't seem to be the type to anger easily. Still, while John didn't naturally believe in lying, he was strangely reluctant to admit in killing the wolf.

"Of course we hurt it," McKay said scornfully, rescuing Sheppard from his predicament. "If we hadn't, we'd be dead."

John noticed McKay didn't mention, however, the many they'd shot down around the gate. Guess even Rodney realized truth could be selective. "I had to," Sheppard clarified, not wanting McKay to take the blame.

Gigno didn't seem unduly concerned, but John thought he'd seen a momentary wince of regret. "I understand," he gestured at a console that was now apparent in the middle of the room. They'd managed to trek to the very center of the complex's main room. "If you would stand in the middle, please?"

"Major," Beckett leaned towards Sheppard. "Are we certain he isn't going to stick us in one of those cubes?"

Carson had voiced a growing concern of his. John decided they wouldn't be standing in the middle unless the man himself joined them. Before he could say anything to that effect, Gigno had stepped into the area he'd indicated for the others.

Sheppard took that step, getting into position next to Gigno, and giving his teammates the silent signal that it was okay. The others joined them in short order, and John felt his body seem to freeze, and then it was as if a fish hook had grabbed him on his shoulders, and yanked him up. The room spun away in a nauseating spiral, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to steady his world. That was a heck of a way to travel.

When he felt his feet settle, he opened his eyes, and was surprised to find that they'd been transported to a room that closely resembled a lounge type café. There were longer chairs for stretching out, normal chairs tucked under a few tables, and in one corner of the room stood a machine that was half the length of the wall, and filled with buttons and slots. The chairs had generous padding and were a pleasing burgundy color, while the tables were a dark blue; the kind of blue you saw when night had just barely taken over from the day, and the sky hadn't quite turned to black. "Nice," he said finally, when his queasiness had passed.

McKay was also recovering from the trip, swallowing frequently as if trying to keep his stomach contents in place. "What is this, art deco?"

Gigno didn't seem to take offense to Rodney's comment. "You like the colors, Doctor McKay?"

"A little on the garish side for me," Rodney wasn't big on contrasting colors. Keep it simple and subtle, a color that you never noticed was there, and that's all he needed. This was too distracting. He'd never be able to concentrate in a loud room such as this. Carson elbowed McKay. "It's interesting," McKay said defensively, after offering a small shove back.

"Would you like to sit?" Gigno indicated a group of chairs around a table nearest the machine on the wall. "Are you hungry, or thirsty?"

"I'm fine," Ford said, but he was the first to take a seat, reclining appreciatively.

Sheppard wouldn't mind something to drink. His fever had dehydrated him, and he was thirsty for the biggest glass of water he could find. "Water?" he asked hopefully. Why not take advantage of a good thing when you had it? He didn't know when the other shoe would fall, but so far, this Gigno was offering them luxury and relief.

Carson took a seat by Ford, and Teyla and McKay settled beside him. The table was oblong, so it wound up that the members from Atlantis took up the entire back side of the table. Sheppard took a seat beside McKay, and realized how right Ford was, the chair was like sitting on a cloud, one of those really fluffy, white ones, that you just know would feel like puffs of cotton on your face.

"Here, Major Sheppard," Gigno handed him a tall glass in a clear cup, before taking a seat on the other side of the table, so that he faced the group. "I know you have many questions, please, ask away. I will do my best to provide answers."

All five regarded one another. The problem was, who would go first? Sheppard was the leader, but McKay was the scientist. John nodded at McKay, allowing him to start off the question and answering session.

"What is this place? It's alive, isn't it?" Rodney's eyes bored holes into the old man, intense in his need for an explanation.

"Cunabula spiritus," Gigno said wistfully. "Eons ago, there was nothing, and I created this place. It is," he seemed to search for a word, his heavy white brows scrunching together, "omnigenus." Gigno didn't seem content with the word he'd found, but seemed to have been unable to find anything better.

"Omnigenus, of all kinds," McKay translated. "Cunabula spiritus, cradle of life. The building is a womb?"

Gigno considered Rodney's comparison and conclusion, and seemed to find it acceptable. "Yes, that is a close approximation."

Sheppard leaned his elbows forward on the table. "So those cubes, those are samples, or - "

"Exemplum."

John turned to McKay. "Model, pattern," Rodney supplied.

Sheppard nodded, and faced Gigno again. "They're blueprints?"

"That would be sufficiently accurate," Gigno replied.

McKay slapped a hand on the table. "I'm an idiot, Gero, gero, to bear, to give birth to! This is the place from which the Ancients created the seedlings of the galaxies."

Gigno remained aloof, but didn't refute McKay's connections. McKay's mind was winding up like a spinner top with the ripcord pulled out, "Gigno, to bring forth, beget, father," McKay emphasized father with dawning realization. Connections were being made and he was stringing it all together to form one conclusion. "Deus!"

Sheppard recognized that word. "God," he breathed. "Do you realize what you are saying?"

Gigno smiled. "He knows, Major Sheppard."

John pulled his attention off a stunned McKay, and focused on the old man, who didn't seem upset or even unsettled, in contrast to the rest of the occupants of the room, who were all experiencing a degree of shock, even Teyla.

"This cannot be," she breathed in wonder. "My people ," she couldn't finish, momentarily overcome with emotion.

Sheppard found it hard to believe that this individual sitting before them was the God of their bible, and the God of many different religions; yet, almost all religion focused on one God, one Father. "Are you?" he asked.

"Am I your God, Major? Or the God of the Athosians?" Gigno asked, his hands were splayed out on the table, fingernails cut to the nail bed, every one perfectly groomed, the color a healthy pink.

"Either one," Sheppard ground out.

The old man stared at John, and he caught John's eyes, and held them, for what seemed an eternity, before he looked away, and Sheppard felt himself released if from a dream. "You will draw your own conclusions."

"Did you create the Wraith?" Beckett asked, surprising them all. He had an angry visage, and seemed to have found courage to face this being.

Gigno did not reply. He stood up, and walked towards the machine. He pushed buttons, and pulled something small and blocky out of a slot. He walked back to the table, and set the item down, knowing all the while that all attention was fixed on him. "I did not create the Wraith, Doctor Beckett," he sat, and peeled back some type of cover. "The Wraith were created by my opposite. I am, what is the word, decretum. The other, incompositus, is responsible for that abomination," he spat, showing the most emotion they had seen since meeting the old man.

"Decretum, order, and incompositus, disorder," McKay translated.

"The devil," Sheppard stated. "Your opposite."

Ford set his weapon on the surface of the table. "Is he here?"

Gigno frowned. "Who?"

"Your opposite."

"Of course, Lieutenant Ford," Gigno said. "Where there is life, there is death. It's the order of the universe."

Sheppard was unsettled by the irreverent way that Gigno confessed the presence of the other. He instantly straightened, nerves taut, "Are we in danger?"

Gigno didn't answer. He arched his head towards the doorway, and paused, as if he were listening to some conversation the others couldn't hear. His face changed from one of casual politeness to one of foul temper. "No," he said abruptly, while standing. "I must go. Please, make yourselves comfortable, I will be back shortly." Gigno retreated out the doorway, and a smooth silver door slid shut after he left, effectively sealing them in.

Sheppard jumped out of his seat, and approached the door, hoping he wasn't wrong. He stood and tried to think it open, and when that failed to yield any result, he tried pushing against the wall and edges. Nothing. He turned to the others, who had watched his actions. Sheppard's shoulder's fell, along with his face. "We're locked in." He couldn't believe he'd allowed them to get caught so effectively in whatever net the old man had woven.