"Pet rock?" One of the girls echoed from right behind Ian where she'd been peering around him to look at the thing on the table.

"What do you mean 'the Wraith are afraid of it'?" Chad asked at the same time.

There were a lot of murmured questions, but Ian just waited for them to all shut up before he answered. No sense trying to be heard over a crowd, after all.

"The Wraith that I told you about last night…? Remember them?"

As if any of them had forgotten.

There were a lot of nods, and now Ian had everyone's attention – including the other counselors and even the staff.

"Well… pet rocks are the only thing the Wraith are afraid of."

"Why?" asked Wilson.

"Because rocks don't have life force to suck out, and if they're close to the person that makes them, the rock – and only a pet rock – will protect that person from the Wraith."

"What about pebbles?" asked a girl. "Will those work?"

"Only pet rocks," Ian said.

"What about trees?"

"Trees are alive," Ann said, smiling. She had a very amused expression on her face as she was looking at Ian's pet rock, which all the kids were craning their necks around those in front so they could see better. "Rocks aren't."

"What about water?"

"No."

"What about oranges?"

"No."

"How about sand-"

"Only pet rocks," Ian said, just barely biting back a vulgarity. Jesus, were they trying to annoy him?

"Can I have your pet rock, Ian?" one of Hank's boys asked.

"I want it!"

"Me!"

"No, me!"

Ian held up his hand, glad in a way that the whole plan was working – who knew with kids, after all, since they appeared to be the dumbest thing on the planet as near as he could tell. But he definitely hadn't wanted to deal with this yelling shit.

"You can't use someone else's pet rock," he said as soon as they quieted down. "You can only use yours."

"But I don't have one."

"Where do you find them?" Someone else asked.

"You make them."

"How?"

The entire room was silent, now, breathlessly waiting for an answer.

"What do you mean how? You find the perfect rock, and then paint a face on it," he said, gesturing to his own. "It's easy."

"What does the perfect rock look like?" Chad asked, looking at Ian's.

"It's different for everyone. But it can't be too big, and it can't be too small. Remember, you have to carry your pet rock around if you want to be safe from the Wraith at night."

Of course, he knew that of there actually was a Wraith around, it wouldn't matter if it was day or night – and they sure as shit wouldn't be able to count on a painted rock to save them. But Ian was counting on them being gullible. And he could see from their faces that it was working.

"I'm going to go find a perfect rock," one of the kids said, stepping backwards and then turning and heading for the door.

"Not until after lunch, guys," Hank said.

"Actually, if they find the rocks now, they'll have time to dry while they eat," Gary Hines said from his position at the back of the crowd where he'd been watching everything that was going on. "You can't paint a pet rock if it's wet, after all."

Lunch put on hold, the kids all rushed for the door, leaving a small crowd of counselors and staff members standing in the dining room.

"Smooth, Ian," River said, admiringly. The other counselors all headed for the door, knowing that they were going to end up being obliged to make pet rocks of their own – whether they wanted or thought they needed to.

Ian shrugged. He was just glad they were gone – although he could hear them all outside shouting to each other as they started picking up rocks and checking to see if they were the perfect rock.

"Yup."

He figured he'd gained himself at least a half an hour of quiet time – while the kids were out looking. He was such a genius.

Then the door slammed open, and one of the older boys came in, his wet hands filled with several muddy rocks, which he brought over to Ian for inspection.

"Which one do I use, Ian?"

Behind him, another kid was just arriving, obviously loaded with rocks as well, just as wet and muddy, and just as obviously heading for Ian. The dream of a little quiet time shattered like a broken window.

Shit. Maybe he wasn't quite the genius he'd thought he was.

OOOOOOOOO

"You think it's raining like this up at camp?" Sam asked, craning her neck to look out the living room window. Not easy to do since she was stretched out on the couch with her injured leg propped up.

Jack nodded.

"Probably."

The colonel was in the process of setting the coffee table up for lunch. They'd taken the day off (Sam's leg had been killing her when she'd woken that morning, and Jack had nagged her to stay home – and then when she'd capitulated, he'd decided that he might as well stay home, too. Just to make sure she had company…) They'd spent a quiet morning working on various different activities for work – things that could be done just as easily from home – and now it was time to eat.

Since Sam wasn't very agile, and with the cast on her wrist she wasn't as nimble with her hands as she once boasted, he'd left her on the couch under the watchful gaze of Jaffer, and had prepared a very perfect rainy day meal. Soup and sandwiches. And they were both hungry.

"They're probably playing inside games," she said.

"Yeah." Of course, kids could get wet without melting, and Jack knew it. More importantly, he was pretty sure Gary Hines knew it as well. Which meant that they could very well be playing outside games, too. "Ian is probably having the time of his life…"

Oh, yeah. Sam had some definite doubts about that. Of course, when she glanced over at Jack, she could tell that he did, too.