Part Nine
Can't Keep a Good Sheppard Down
It was like watching the aftermath of a successful surgery, but minus the smiling faces over a job well done. Plus the snake-like weasel thing was a major offset to Elizabeth's impression. It was also odd the way Rodney was cradling his arm to his chest, his face a shade away from being absolutely white.
Elizabeth darted from the control room the moment the four plus one stepped through, with Carson wheeling an unconscious John in the chair and Teyla holding John up by the shoulders. It was disconcerting how worn out they all were, and that Teyla had a bandage wrapped around her head. Only the rodent/otter whatever it was was showing any signs of high spirits.
" What happened?" Elizabeth asked right off.
Beckett's reply was to tap the radio in his ear. " Infirmary, this is Becket, I need a stretcher," he wearily said. He leaned his weight on the handles of the chair and sighed.
" Beckett?"
" Infirmary first," Beckett said. " Then we'll talk. The Colonel's going to be fine."
Elizabeth could only gape. She looked to Rodney and Teyla, but neither appeared up to talking.
The medical team was quick to respond and arrived with Beckett's needed stretcher. Then, with the help of that same team, they carefully eased John from the chair to the stretcher, and followed as they carried him away. Rodney and Teyla trailing after with the creature hot on their heels. No one had yet to acknowledge that the alien rodent had returned.
SGA
Beckett couldn't begin to put the relief he was feeling into audible words. Perhaps that same relief was being overstated, but Carson couldn't care less. He had plenty of reason to be as relieved as he felt.
John's latest set of X-rays showed the spread of the low-density patches to be far more minimal than Beckett had assumed they were going to be. Yes, they had spread, but in small areas, flecks of transparent spots within the brighter white of denser bones. And those flecks were few. The larger patches had increased only by single centimeters, nothing that couldn't be remedied with calcium and vitamin D by the ton.
" How's it look?"
Carson turned from the X-ray of John's chest to face Dr. Weir, who he had forgotten completely about.
" Oh! Elizabeth, I am so sorry. I meant to speak with you sooner..."
Dr. Weir lifted a hand palm out and smiled. " It's all right, Carson. I would have come here sooner, but wanted to give you some space to work. Besides, Teyla filled me in after you released her." Weir then folded her arms and rocked back and forth on her heels, chewing her lip for a silent moment. " So, John has a twin?"
Beckett blinked in confusion, then managed a small, nervous laugh. " Oh, that. It probably would have been best if either me or Rodney explained it. Not like it makes much sense to me, mind." He looked away when a small twinge of regret poked at him. " Not much at all."
" But this 'twin' is why John is still alive?" she asked.
" Aye, very much so."
" How is John?" came her next question.
" No worse for wear. I checked his blood not too long ago. The virus is bein' slow to leave his system, but that's to be expected with all the hell he just went through. still, he's on the mend, though a long mend it'll be. He has quite a bit to recover from."
Weir turned her gaze to the still figure in the bed on her left. She flinched slightly on noticing that his eyes were open, staring with the unfocused emptiness normally reserved for the eyes of the dead. However, his chest was rising and falling, the heart monitor beeping steadily, and the oxygen mask over his face fogged up.
Carson winced on remembering the mask. " I need to change that to a nasal canal. Kept forgetting to." He moved over to the bed to prepare the canal, and Elizabeth joined him.
" Is he responding?"
" Not really. Mind you, though, he just had a complete mental reboot. I'm not certain what the symptoms'll be, but I'm fairly sure it'll involve a complete lack of response on his part. Then again, this might just be some massive form of shock."
With the canal ready, Carson removed the mask and placed the secondary breathing apparatus onto John's face. John blinked, coughed, and that was it. Elizabeth squinted and gestured at John's chest and neck.
" What's that slimy looking stuff on him?"
" Vaporub. To help with the congestion. Put it on prematurely. Between his lungs and the broken ribs, breathin' isn't exactly a luxury for him. But with the virus dyin', that's got a chance to change now. My main concern is his mental state?"
Elizabeth looked at him. " Because of this reboot thing?"
Carson shrugged. " Because of all of it. No tellin' what he'll remember. And I don't know when he'll come back around. Hopefully soon since I know how much he hates having a feedin' tube placed in him."
Elizabeth placed her hand on John's shoulder. " John? John. It's Elizabeth. Can you look at me?"
John's eyes remained fixed on staring inwardly. Although he did cough some more. Elizabeth gave his shoulder a squeeze.
" He feels thinner," she said.
" That'll be remedied too... eventually."
A small yip had Elizabeth looking down, then leaping back with a yelp of her own.
" It's that thing!"
Carson also looked down at Little Jim coiled around the back leg of the bed, mutilating a power bar Carson had tossed it earlier. It looked up to sniff the air and grunt at Elizabeth, then went back to its ravenous gnawing.
" You mean Jim?"
Dr. Weir shot Carson a wide-eyed look. " You named it?"
" John did, actually."
" But you said he wasn't responsive."
Carson raised both his hands for Elizabeth to calm down. " He named it a long time ago. It's been followin' him around, even went to the planet. And I know this may sound hard to believe, but it actually saved our lives, and it refuses to leave John."
Slack-jawed, Elizabeth looked from Carson to the creature. " Well, word to the wise, don't let Zelenka see it. He's been on the warpath ever since someone mentioned seeing it again. You are cleaning up any messes it makes, right?"
" This is an infirmary. You honestly think I wouldn't keep it clean?"
When Jim finished the bar, now wired on the numerous nutrients, it began pawing at Weir's shoe, rolling onto its back and writhing like a cat toying with a ball of yarn. The smile Elizabeth finally allowed to happen was inevitable.
" So tell me about this 'twin' Teyla mentioned," she said.
Carson winced. " Where do I begin?"
" Where ever would make the most sense."
Carson looked down at Jim. That twinge was back, poking incessantly. Funny how he could miss something that didn't even have a tangible physiology – like missing a mirage that could talk.
" He saved John's life."
SGA
3 Days later
Rodney stalked into the infirmary, knocking his knuckles on his cast in hopes that the vibration would kill the persistent itch that was driving him nuts. He had tried to scratch it by sticking a pencil up there, but had lost the pencil and had to use tweezers to get it out.
It was nothing compared to the itch that had driven him into the infirmary after three days of waiting for John to wake up. It seemed a pointless endeavor to visit the man when he was still a vegetable. Carson had blanched at the term since John's eyes were open and he occasionally turned his head; but until he made some sort of verbal response and acknowledged reality, he was a vegetable in Rodney's mind.
But the mental itch had been relentless. CJ was gone, but his voice still echoed beyond...
Well, beyond where ever the hell entities go when they die.
CJ's original speech on why Rodney hadn't gone to see John during his ranting phase of the sickness was being readily applied to the here and now. History really did have a way of repeating, and Rodney was once again forced to realize that the reason he was avoiding a visit was because seeing John invalid and out of it made his insides squirm.
Or, to put it more simply, he was giving in to being selfish again. And with all the self-sacrificing that had been going on lately, it made Rodney feel like the biggest scum in the entire city of Atlantis. Besides, a vegetable John had to be an improvement to a ranting, terrified John. If Rodney could handle that, then he could sure as hell put up with Sheppard being mute.
Hey, mute is always an improvement... As long as it isn't permanent.
Jim was still in the infirmary, still poking about and exploring every little nook there was to stick a nose into. The moment Rodney walked in, it bounded over to him and rose up on its tail, pawing the air.
" Oh for crying out loud..." Rodney dug in his pocket, pulled out a bar, and tossed it to the wanna-be dog. Jim caught it and scurried beneath John's bed to wrap around the leg and tear into the bar – paper and all. Other than Jim's noisy snarfing and the steady beep of a heart monitor, the infirmary was next to absolutely quiet.
John was sitting up with the help of the bed and two pillows, his head tilted to one side, his eyes still distant. Something about that was irking the crap out of Rodney. Even rebooted computers didn't take as long to get back to normal as John was taking. Carson had told Rodney about the various brain scans taken, and the lack of activity say for the primary functions keeping John alive. It gave Rodney the sneaking suspicion that rather than a reboot, CJ had fried John's mind, wiping it completely clean.
He made him a zombie. A freakin' zombie! The human brain wasn't a computer. It was more like glass, fine china, a piece of excessively fragile crystal – you break it, they bought it kind of deal. No way what CJ caused didn't leave damage.
Rodney stood stiffly by John's bed as though spiting his own discomfort at seeing John ghost pale, skinnier than what Rodney was used to, and vacant-eyed.
Now what? What the hell am I supposed to say to a guy who isn't all there enough to listen?
He moved around to other side of the bed into John's line of sight and crouched down. He snapped his fingers in front of John's face, tensing habitually for the moment when Sheppard's hand would shoot out and grab Rodney by the wrist.
No such luck.
" John. Hey John! You in there? Time to wake up Colonel. Wraith are invading, with a couple of Genii – Oh, and Kolya said you're so pathetic you couldn't take down a toothpick."
John's eyes seemed to be staring through Rodney, too reminiscent of a corpse. Rodney shuddered. " I'd tell you to stop staring at me, but you'd probably keep doing it just for fun. Hey John, you really better wake up or Ilian's going to get you. You hear me?"
John blinked.
Oh, a blink, goody, Rodney thought irritably. He half expected CJ to butt in with some snappy remark that would only do to piss Rodney off – because whatever would have been said, it would have been the truth.
Rodney placed his hand on John's shoulder and gently shook him. " John?" His frustration was boiling over. Rodney straightened, pointing a rigid finger at the Colonel. " You're a real SOB you know that? We go through all that crap to save your ass and you thank us by going brain dead? What the hell did CJ do to you?"
This time, John didn't even blink. Rodney rolled his eyes.
" Come on Colonel. What happens when wraiths do attack again, or Genii, or who the hell knows what else? Who's going to save our butts since you obviously can't? You hate being weak, it pisses you off. You should be pissing Carson off trying to leave the infirmary, or insisting that you're fine - not giving in like this. Not to sound all pathetic myself, Colonel, but we really do kind of need you around here. And I'm not talking about your gene, I'm talking about you. You said once that you wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for the gene? Well, guess what, we probably wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. You're an irreplaceable necessity, Colonel. You're so blasted ingrained in keeping Atlantis going that if you suffer – hey, guess what – we suffer."
Rodney's discomfort actually escalated a few degrees, but for once he couldn't stop talking even for his own good, so instead began scuffing the floor with the heel of his boot. " And... truthfully... it kind of sucks not having anyone to fight with who knows how to fight back – and who doesn't pull rank, or grunt, or give you the evil eye, or just look at you like you're the biggest nut-job in the world. And I swear, if you wake up like you're supposed to, no more machines. I've got the gene, I can do it myself – or just find another guinea pig... Not that you were a guinea pig..."
The tension born of waiting for John to just snap awake was shredding Rodney's patience. He snorted out irritably. " You know, you really are some friend. I'm being heart felt for once in my life, ignoring a crap-load of discomfort because somebody told me once that you thought I was your friend. Well... I am, I guess. So how about you be a friend and wake up now. Do me a favor seeing as how I helped save your scrawny butt?"
He felt a slight pressure on his foot, and looked down at Jim. The otter-snake was giving him a kind of begging puppy-dog look. Rodney shrugged.
" Sorry, all out. Besides, you'll just get fat."
Jim grunted, then slithered back under the bed. Rodney looked back at John and sighed. He felt odd, defeated, and - to even his own shock - had run out of anything else to say.
" Sorry, John. Sorry for all the hell you keep going through."
Rodney patted John's shoulder and left the infirmary, half expecting a John-like voice to tell him to stay. But even if it had, even if McKay found more to rant about, there wasn't much left to really say – and it probably wasn't being heard all the same.
SGA
John was floating, and preferred it to anything else he had ever experienced. Nothingness was bliss, absolute bliss. No thoughts, no images, no reasons to be tense and alert. Noises drifted by him like whale song, and he found no reason to chase after them. Noise was noise, it held no meaning for him now. He recalled things – vague and distant things that made him cringe – but knew that as long as he kept floating, those things could never touch him. It was a strange kind of freedom. He saw nothing, went nowhere, felt nothing, so in turn could not suffer the reciprocation that came with sensation and action.
But there was a nagging feeling of something being missing, something he needed or needed to do, maybe even many somethings. It came to him, even when he surrendered with everything he had to the nothingness. It was like a reminder, a knowledge of having to be somewhere or do something that was exceedingly important. He felt that as long as he didn't remember what it was, it would come to not matter.
No such luck, the feeling was persistent. It made the gray darkness flit with images, pulse with light. He shrank from it, winced at the light, tried to turn, only to see the same on the other side.
He was also cold, on occasion.
Yet even if he wanted to go back, he didn't know how. Did he need to go back? Why couldn't he stay? Where was the harm? He was tired of feeling, because all he recalled feeling was terror, and pain. He had begged for nothingness, got nothingness, so he was going to stay in nothingness.
Wakey, wakey John
No. He was not going to leave.
Don't you miss surfing? Sweet breakers on that land mass...
Shut up.
I'm not McKay.
McKay?
Beckett.
Teyla?
Elizabeth.
Atlantis?
People need you John.
He felt it again, that feeling that he needed to be somewhere, doing something.
No.
Your choice. But you can't float forever. You'll die... most likely from boredom more than anything else. Come on, John, since when do you give up on anything?
I'm needed?
Yeah, John. More than you know.
That sounded... plausible. Important. The nag became a shout, the shout a scream. He couldn't avoid listening to it now. He couldn't leave. He couldn't give in. He was being afraid. What was it about being afraid, giving into fear? It cost lives. Fear he could feel, just not acknowledge. It was all a matter of flight or fight, and he had never not fought in his life. So what would someone call what he was doing now?
Flying like a spooked bird.
Shut up!
Kiss my butt.
John chuckled. No sound was made, nothing was felt, but he sensed himself doing it all the same on some deep, subconscious level.
Time to wake up.
SGA
One week later
Two nurses aided Carson in lifting John up enough for Carson to put the stethoscope against his back and listen to his breathing. Carson nodded in approval at the improvement of John's respiration. Too bad he couldn't say the same for the weight issue.
Carson replaced the scrub shirt and helped the nurses ease John back. The Colonel's only response – as it had been since they arrived back to Atlantis – was to blink. Brain scans of any kind showed no signs of the deep neural activity Carson was hoping for.
They had tried to prevent John from becoming a shell, and now here he was – a shell. But what was far more frustrating was his being awake, with eyes open and blinking. It was like he was in there, but no amount of badgering, coaxing, or sessions with Heightmeyer were going to get him out. It wasn't psychological, but everything Carson was seeing with the naked eye was telling him that it was.
He still held to the hope that John was in there, buried so deep it was just difficult to dig out. Time, Beckett was still opting to give him time. After that, the only option would be to return him to earth where he could get round the clock care.
And live out the remainder of his days as a bloody shell.
With respiratory check complete, Carson went to the table where the recent X-rays were set, and pulled them out one by one, slapping them onto the board. The patches were diminishing, but not at the rate Carson wanted. John having the ability to move about would have helped things along nicely. Exercise helped to increase bone mass.
X-ray perusal done, it was time for another blood sample. Carson went back to the table, tossing the X-rays down, then picking up a syringe. He turned, moving back to John's bed, the two nurses absent as they went to tend to other matters. Carson took John's arm, swabbing it with a sanitizer, then pressing the tip of the needle to John's skin.
" You might feel a pinch," he said, glancing up to give John a reassuring grin.
Carson started, dropping the syringe onto the floor where it shattered, and yelping out a bloody hell.
John was looking directly at him, blinking in apparent confusion.
Carson blinked himself several times before his voice finally worked. " John? John, lad? Can you hear me?"
John lined his brow, and swallowed, an act that seemed to hurt. He closed his eyes and took a gentle inhalation of air.
" H-hey... Carson..." Barely even above a whisper, but it was the loudest, most beautiful sound Carson had heard in a long time. Something seemed to rush from Carson – tension, sadness, the beginnings of losing hope – leaving him shaken and so overwhelmed that he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He opted for laughter.
" John, lad, you scared the hell out of me," he chuckled. He then pulled out his pen light and flashed both of John's eyes. John winced, lifting his hand to feebly bat the light away.
" S-stop," he whispered. Carson clicked the light off and straightened. " Sorry, sorry, just... routine stuff." Carson shook his head. John my have been talking yet it seemed so unreal, the kind of thing one awoke from, then curse themselves over for being so delusional. Carson, without thinking, reached out and grabbed John's wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze, assured by the tangible feel of flesh and bone that this wasn't a dream.
" I'm just... glad to have you back, lad..." Carson said, teetering on the brink of hysterical laughter. Instead, he tapped the radio at his hear.
" Dr. Weir. I need everyone into the infirmary. John's bloody awake!" then he did laugh. John just looked at Carson oddly, even nervously. So Carson quickly sobered.
" Oh, unless you're not ready," he said as an amend.
John shook his head. " 's fine," he breathed.
" You tired lad?"
John shook his head again. " Hungry."
Carson smiled. " Aye, I'd expect you'd be. I'll have someone bring you some food. Nothin' fancy though. You're digestion hasn't been fairin' too well."
Carson released John's hand to tap the radio, only to have John grab Carson's wrist in his weak grasp. The look on John's face melted Carson's jubilation. Confusion was dominant, accompanied by worry.
" W-What happened?" he breathed.
Carson furrowed his own brow. " What do you remember?"
John squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered. " N-nightmare. I hurt. Ilian – did – or was – doing – something?"
Carson squeezed John's shoulder with his other hand. " Aye, somethin' like that. But you no need to worry about him. He'll not be botherin' us – or I should say you – anymore. You were right about him, John."
John opened his eyes, squinting thoughtfully in recollection. " C-CJ?"
Carson sighed and briefly looked away. " He's... um... He's – gone, lad. I think – he might have died savin' your life."
John rolled his head to stare up at the ceiling. " Thought – it was quiet," he lifted his hand as far as he could to gesture at his head, " in here." He let out a half-laugh, half-sob, then clamped his mouth shut and swallowed hard as moisture shimmered at the corners of his eyes. The infirmary doors slid open, and Elizabeth, Teyla, Ronon, and McKay all filed in in a quiet procession. They hung back behind Carson, hopeful, reluctant, and uncertain as they witnessed a tear rolling down the side of John's face. He lolled his head in their direction, and flashed a small, quick smile.
" Hey," he breathed, even more quietly than before. Elizabeth was the first to smile back.
" Hey yourself, John."
That was as far as the exchange went when John's eyelids fought a losing battle of staying open and slid closed.
" 'm tired," he whispered. Carson placed John's arms beneath the covers, then pulled the covers up to his neck. He turned to face the others, pursing his lips apologetically.
" Well... apparently... he was tired."
McKay shrugged. " At least he got to tell us in person."
SGA
Irony could be a good thing when it wanted to be. Of the many occasions John had frequented the infirmary, never had Beckett been so anxious to get him back on his feet. Normally it was all a mantra of " you need your rest" over and over until John wanted to strangle someone. Now it was "feel up for a walk today, Colonel?" or " maybe you should take your new pet for a walk."
John couldn't have agreed with Carson more, and had been tempted to kiss the man on the cheek. But, as the saying went; easier said than done. Walking from the bed to the bathroom winded the crap out of him. But Carson was persistent, and John – for once according to, well, everyone – finally put his stubborn nature to use. And thanks to these small exercises, his bones were rapidly regaining lost density.
Soon, he was able to walk from the infirmary all together. The trips were short, usually to the mess hall and back. Then to his room and back for periodic checkups. He moved slow, keeping to the walls for a sense of balance. Dizzy-spells erupted often, but the more he moved about, rebuilding his strength, the less severe they became. Still, he usually didn't go anywhere without an escort. He was even given a cane to use in case his energy seeped out long before he reached his destination. And, of course, where ever he went, Jim went.
He got plenty of stares for his troubles, especially in the mess hall, coming in pale, thin faced, shadow-eyed, and being trailed by a buoyant otter-thing. It was the otter drawing most of the attention, and that induced numerous smirks from Sheppard. He'd heard the stories of Jim's escapades and the frustration he caused, especially concerning one Czech scientist. John savored the odd attention. There was something about it, something about sitting down at a lone table with whoever was escorting him (Teyla, for the most part, or sometimes Ronon) and having the alien creature hop up onto the seat beside him and share in the meal. John couldn't quite put a name to the feeling it gave him. It wasn't vindictiveness or spite, and was little less than a sense of power. It was more like a sense of being unique, of standing out in a way opposite of being thin, pale, and less than who he used to be. People were amazed by Sheppard's easy camaraderie with the unknown being, and so all their attention was focused on that, and not John's current state.
They were distracted from what he had become, and he was thankful for that.
But all good things must come to an end. Amiable as Jim was, he belonged in the sea, and John didn't want to see the affects of an otter-thing away from its natural environment. Plus the only reason Jim went with John was because it had been CJ's bidding out of necessity at the time. Well, necessity was past. It was time for Jim to go home.
When John had reached the point of being able to travel father without having to lean on a cane, he took Jim to the lowest level of Atlantis, and led him to the very jetty where they had first met. On opening it, a salty breeze brushed John's face, and he inhaled a lungful. Snake-otters scattered, splashing into the water. On seeing this, Jim immediately followed, slipping from the jetty into the cool liquid.
John, grinning, shook his head. " That it then? No good-bye?" He walked onto the jetty and sat on the edge with his legs drawn up and his arms draped loosely over his knees. Jim was still in sight, sliding through the water, then leaping, performing tricks mimicking the tricks of CJ when he was the dolphin. Memories flooded into John's mind, some bad, but some good. They were mingled, but he could focus on the good now, and did just that.
He owed more than he could ever pay back to CJ. For John, the debt he felt his thanks asked for could never be paid off, not if he lived as long as CJ. The entity's motives for helping John could not be fathomed, and it plagued John with a mixture of wonder and guilt that the entity had gone as far as he did.
Was it his nature to protect? John knew he would never know. Moisture burned in John's eyes. CJ didn't have to do what he did, but he did it anyways.
' Because it was the right thing to do. Words sound familiar?'
John, stiffening, scrambled to his feet, nearly slipping from the jetty.
' Easy there, flyboy. Don't go breaking anything else.'
CJ?
' And don't shout! My mental synapses are killing me.'
The voice was, once again, genderless, and without the more massive presence John had grown accustomed to. But it was familiar all the same. John scanned the water, even the air.
' Spt! Down here John.'
John looked down, burst out laughing, and dropped to his knees before the dolphin floating up at the edge of the jetty. The illusion was ghost-like, a rather cold reminder that CJ's form was indeed only an image. Still, even semi-transparent, it didn't stop the swell of joy and relief in John's chest.
" Where the hell have you been?" John asked laughingly.
CJ clacked his dolphin Jaws. 'Recuperating, big time, but I'm still not quite there yet. Listen, John, I just dropped by to see how you were. You know, to see if nearly killing myself was worth it and all? Guess it was. Funny thing, rebooting your brain. I now have first hand experience of what it's like to have a hang-over. So how are you?'
" Alive, sane, mending, and all that... thanks to you. I thought for sure I really had killed you."
'Ah! No biggy. It was all a matter of knowing when to pull out. I tell you what, though. I'm never doing that again, I don't care how psychotic you get.'
" Wouldn't expect you to. So now what?"
' So now, once I feel ready, I'm off. No offense John, but I've overstayed and am little too popular for my liking. Time to get back on the road, see what else is out there, maybe torment a few Genii and wraith along the way. I might go back to earth, see what movies have come out and all. Oh, I did manage to drop by Ilian's crib. I was trying to see how far I could make it by riding a Stargate path. Big mistake, got hold up there for a few days. Anyways, seems they got this device they wear under their skin to scramble their own thoughts. Ilian kind of ripped his out. Seems the guy's claustrophobic. Didn't kill him or anything but, hey, I don't think he's going to be mentally stable for a while."
John smirked. " Now that's my kind of good news. But, I guess the inevitable question is – do you have to go?"
' Hey, I almost broke a few laws helping you. I need to get while the gettin's good. For real, though, I need some vacation time. I've had enough adventure to last me another millennium. Your team at 6 o'clock."
John turned his head in time to see McKay, Beckett, and Teyla stepping through the door onto the jetty. McKay was leading the way seeing as how he was walking fast, scowling in irritation and holding up a life-signs detector.
" Thought you'd be down here," he said. " Thinking about going for another swim?"
' Hey McKay, come out to play?'
McKay faltered to a halt when CJ peered at Rodney from around John. " CJ!"
' The one and only.'
Carson's eyebrows lifted to his scalp, and a smile slowly spread on his face. " You're alive then, lad?"
' Never really died. Just sort of – lost my steam.'
John pointed at the dolphin. " He was just saying good-bye."
Carson walked to the edge of the jetty with his hands in his pocket, and Teyla coming up beside John, crouching next to him. Only McKay held back.
" Good-bye? He's leaving?" McKay asked.
' No, I just like saying the words. Yes I'm leaving. Places to go, entities to brag to. Don't think it anything permanent, I might drop by for a peek or two at a particular dream.'
At this, Rodney went stiff, and slightly red. " Don't you even!"
CJ squeaked and rose onto his tail, while inside everyone's mind he laughed.
Teyla leaned in toward John. " What manner of form has he taken?"
" It's an earth creature called a dolphin, known for being excessively friendly."
' Hey John, how about a swim, for old time's sake. This time without the madness and agony. And don't worry about alien barracudas. Jim's still around. Hey McKay, why don't you tell John what you learned about Jim.'
" What? Uh... it's something called a... um... Kiedda. Ancients actually kept them as pets sometimes. There's a picture in the archives... what do you mean go for a swim?"
John, still smirking, looked at Teyla and jerked his head toward the water. " It's a good day for it." With that, he stood and jumped in, sinking, then swimming back up to cling to the jetty.
" Hey!" McKay cried in alarm, finally coming to the edge.
" Are you sure that's wise?" Beckett asked nervously.
" Relax, doc, I'm staying right here."
Teyla, standing and grinning, looked to the doctor. " I will keep and eye on him," then she jumped in as well.
John looked from Beckett to McKay. " Care to join?"
Carson, finally allowing himself a smile, stepped back. " Sorry, lad, not much for swimmin'."
" McKay?"
" Not on your life!"
John shrugged, feeling more energized than he had in a long time. " Fine," and he splashed McKay, who stumbled back.
" Very mature, Colonel," Rodney grouched, flicking water from the detector. Then Teyla splashed. The two men on the jetty retreated from the two in the water, McKay barking out indignation, Carson just shaking his head like a patient parent dealing with rambunctious kids. CJ rose up on his tail, and Jim leaped.
SGA
When evening came, and John stood out on the balcony in dry clothes, he leaned on the rail and watched as a multi-colored mist rose from the water. It congealed into an equine form, a winged horse, that flapped as it ascended.
' A salute to the pegasus galaxy!' CJ called, and lifted a foreleg as though pawing the air. ' I salute you. And you too, John. Oooohhh Rooll the 'ole chariot along, I say roooll the 'ole chariot along, I say roooll the 'ole chariot along...'
CJ's voice diminished, as did his form when he shot off into the star-littered night sky. John put two fingers to his forehead in a salute of his own.
' Thanks CJ.'
He then turned, leaning his back against the rail, facing the warm interior lights of Atlantis with the sparkling diamond-foamed sea at his back, feeling at ease, feeling at home, feeling safe. Much better than floating.
" ... And we'll all get on behind." he murmured, and grinned.
The End
A/N: Aye, 'tis over me gentle reader. Hope you enjoyed. T'was indeed quite fun to write. But I fear that's all for now folks. Will CJ or Jim make another appearance? In the words of my sister... Maaaybe! CJ definitely might, since I had another story planned involving him, but that probably won't be for a long, long time. I've got something much more – how shall I say – twisted planned. But, again, not for a while.
If you would like your own Kiedda, please contact Sheppard in the Pegasus galaxy, P.O. Box I don't know, you'd gave to ask Sheppard. Really, though, I may do a drawing of Jim at some time. And if I do, I'll tell you where to find him in my next story. But, again, not for a while.