"How does this look, Ian?"

Ian sighed – again – and looked at yet another painted rock. The 43rd one by his count. This one was painted mostly red, with white eyes and mouth, no nose, and green hair. The little girl who was holding it was clearly impressed with her own work, and Ian had the feeling that her asking his opinion was more or less just a formality.

"It's fine," he told her, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans so she wouldn't offer the damned thing to him to hold so he could check it out better. He already had paint all over himself, and it'd take forever to scrub it off his forearms and hands – and forget about saving the shirt he was wearing, because the shit was never going to come out of the white fabric, he was sure.

She smiled happily, and went back to what she was doing, and Ian moved out of the chair he was sitting in – one that was supposed to have been as far from the arts and crafts tables as possible, but was still way too close as far as he was concerned.

He'd tried to escape this whole mess by staying longer at the nurse's cabin. Unfortunately, his back was declared just fine, and she hadn't even lotioned it. Truth be told, it felt fine, too – he just had hoped for the extra time, was all. Even worse, he hadn't been able to think of any small talk – something that he hated just as much as he hated hanging out with kids – and hadn't been able to think of any reason to stay. Short of chopping off his hand with a pair of scissors or something. Then, when he'd intended to head to the cabin to get out of the rain, he'd been intercepted by kids, who were all streaming down to the gym where tables had been set up with paints and all sorts of crafting items. With them nagging him, there had been no way for Ian to get away, and he'd joined them on their trek to down the hill – reluctance personified.

"Problems?" Shawn asked, as Ian approached the far door. The young man was well aware that his friend didn't want to be where he was, and was trying to figure out a way to escape. The only problem was; there wasn't any way he could. All afternoon activities had been suspended in favor of arts and crafts in the gym – and Gary was actually pleased that the kids had the pet rock project to keep them so occupied.

"This sucks."

Shawn grinned. So few words, and yet Ian had managed to put so much into them.

"They're going to be done soon."

"Joy."

"And then we'll be playing games again."

"Yay."

Oh, the sarcasm was oozing! Of course, Shawn wasn't at all offended, and he really did understand why Ian was in such a lousy mood. Ian didn't like kids, and didn't like being in the center of attention, and now he was the center of attention of a large group of kids, and it was a wonder he hadn't gone down to the water and thrown himself in by now.

"The pet rock idea was a great one."

Ian nodded. While he didn't like the fact that it showcased him, there was no denying it had been successful – at least so far. Not that he gave a shit if the other counselors got any sleep or not, but at least they wouldn't be nagging him about how he needed to fix things and make them right, and he wouldn't have to listen to their whining for the rest of the week.

"Yeah."

"Where did you come up with it?"

"Just pulled it out of my ass, I guess. Did you make one?"

Shawn nodded, turning his head toward the heat lamps that had been set up on the windowsills of the gym (the windows were screened to protect them during rougher games, but they still had deep sills where kids inevitably placed their pop cans or jackets, but were now cleared of everything but rocks drying under heat lamps). Closest to Shawn was a smallish gray rock with a happy face on it. Not at all fierce like most of those the kids were making, but Ian had told them that they didn't have to be fierce to be effective. They just had to have faces. Otherwise, knowing his luck, the rocks would scare the kids that had made them, and he'd hear all about that, too.

"I've named him Myron."

Ian snorted, and Shawn smiled. But only for a moment. Then his expression turned a little serious.

"These Wraith you're telling the kids about…"

"Yeah?"

"Do they exist?"

Ian frowned. He knew that Shawn didn't know everything that had been going on at the SGC lately – he knew about Jake's birth, of course, but not about Ian's downloaded memories, and Ian was pretty sure Shawn didn't know about what Ian was now certain was Atlantis. But Shawn was half Ancient, and there was always the chance that he held some kind of racial memories. And if he did, then the Wraith might very well be a memory triggered by Ian's tale. Which wasn't something he'd considered when he'd mentioned them.

"Why do you ask?"

Shawn shrugged.

"It just sounds familiar…"

It was Ian's turn to shrug.

"Yeah. They exist. But not here."

Shawn smiled.

"I knew that. Where are they?"

"I'm not sure," Ian admitted. Since there weren't any counselors or kids around to overhear them, he wasn't too concerned about discussing this – although the Wraith weren't something he'd mentioned to anyone at the SGC, either. "They're just something I've heard about. They might not exist anymore."

"But they did at one point?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe Thor mentioned them…" Shawn said, obviously trying to figure out where he'd heard about them.

"Maybe."

Unlikely, but you never knew.

"Well, at least-"

"Ian! How does this look!"

They were interrupted by the arrival of pet rock number 44. This one in the paint-smeared hand of one of the seven-year-old boys. It was a fierce looking monstrosity that looked more like a jack-o-lantern than anything else – although it was definitely designed to be scary.

"It's fine," Ian said, automatically.

Shawn grinned.

"What did you name it?" He asked the boy.

"Harold."

"I'm going to get some fresh air," Ian said, scowling. "I'll talk to you later."

Shawn nodded, knowing that with company, the subject of the Wraith was closed – as it should be.

"Gary went down to the fire pit… maybe you could see if he needs any help…?"

That would give Ian a good excuse to escape the gym – and the kids.

"Good idea, Adams."

Of course it was a good idea. He was a genius, after all. Right?