Unbelievable
Thirsty. He was impossibly thirsty.
John supposed they had left Atlantis almost two days ago. The first night they'd been burning and he'd woken up here. Now the sun was rising once again and he found himself in the same little room, high above the ground.
The woman had not been back. He needed water. His head ached and he felt drained. He could only lay on the cushion and hope someone would come soon. He ardently wished the next person to cross the threshold would be Ronon, or Teyla, or Rodney. He'd even be glad to see Caldwell and his weird naked alien!
It was so quiet. Not the relaxing quietness of the lake. This quiet was unnerving because no one would come to break it. He longed for sound, so he spoke to himself periodically, to alleviate his unease.
"If I could find a rope. I could climb down from this place. But there's no rope. Nothing but a table and a chair, a cushion, a bucket, and a nice jacket."
The night had been cold. He'd taken the cloak the woman had left and covered his shivering body. It was not made of the warmest of material but it kept him somewhat comfortable. He felt like he did when he was a child, going camping with his grandfather. He'd lie on a thin camper's mattress, wrapped snugly in a sleeping bag. It was always a bit cold but bearably so, it allowed you to sleep.
"I always got the green sleeping bag and grandpa always got the blue. Here I am, green again. I'm thinking it's my colour!"
He fell quiet, the sound of his voice making him edgy. If he spoke to himself too long, wouldn't he go completely insane? No radio, no pretending someone was listening on the other side.
He shook himself to rattle his thoughts. This was not conducive to a peaceful mind. He needed to get some rest. Then he could plan his escape and save his people.
He closed his eyes and tried to let slumber come for the umpteenth time since the woman had left.
Suddenly, he heard a noise. He stilled and held his breath. Was it real? Had he really heard something? Yes…there it was again. It sounded like…like…
"You are awake!"
Before he could place the sound, the woman was there at the door. It had been the elevator, locking into place. He scrambled to sit up but she had already reached him and, with a hand on his chest, pushed him back down.
"Don't sit up, you seem tired. I have brought you food." She indicated a parcel near his head.
He removed her hand from his body and sat up, his brain supplying a litany of 'food food food give me food give me food'. He did. He bit into a red fruit. Its supple skin breached and let a flow of sweet juicy flesh into his mouth. Good; strawberries with a trace of pear. Yes, juicy, soothing his parched throat. He hadn't noticed how hungry he was before that burst of flavour hit is tongue.
The woman sat close to him, watching him eat with an indulgent smile. His brain started a different chorus. No longer demanding basic physiological fulfilment, it locked unto the evidence. John, you are an idiot.
He put down the third fruit he was in the process of ingesting and looked at the woman. How could he be so stupid! He'd jumped on the food, never for a moment thinking it could be laced with all sorts of life threatening agents. When had thankful naivety replaced his combative distrustfulness?
"Why are you back? Why now?"
She moved to sit closer, her leg pressing against his, and put a hand on his knee.
"I'm sorry it took me so long. There were…problems that needed to be resolved."
"Problems?" John didn't know what he wanted to hear. Had there been problem with the team? Would she tell is he asked? An affirmative answer would mean they were here, at least, if not with him. A negative would mean…he didn't know what it would mean and wasn't keen on exploring that avenue.
"They have been resolved now and I can take you with me once you have eaten." She reached for a fruit and held it to his mouth, nodding encouragingly.
He held his lips firmly closed and moved his head away from her reach. "What problems? What's happening here?"
She sighed before answering his question. "I have left you here much longer than necessary. Seeing you…it…I forgot for a moment, I mistook you for another." She turned toward him, detailing him. "You look so much like him. In a way, it makes perfect sense, but…none of the others feel so incredibly familiar. Everything about you brings him back to me. I forgot you were not Banee…only a part of him."
This…is…insane…
John almost groaned. Thank you, brain, for your magnificent grasp of the blatantly obvious. When he got out of here, he would definitely stop hanging out with McKay off-duty. The man had him snarking himself!
"Ok." What else was he going to say! So many questions arose, he couldn't choose just one! Who's Banee! What others? How was he a part of him? What in the sphincter of hell makes perfect sense!
"You are quiet. The others had many questions."
Ding ding ding ding. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner! The next question on the board is…"What others?"
"You will soon meet them. I will take you to there place of residence once you have eaten."
Again with the fruit. He pushed her hand away. "I've had enough, thanks."
"Stubborn." She let out a soft chuckle. "Very well. Follow me."
She stood and waited for him to do the same. He handed her the green cloak. She smiled and put it on before walking to the elevator. John followed at a lazy pace.
Neither of them spoke before reaching the edge of the forest John had observed from above. As they were engulfed by the shadows of tall trees, civility and a good upbringing prompted John to enquire about his captor. Friendly was good. Friendly people weren't killed by crazy women in darkened forests…or so he hoped. He wouldn't have said he was afraid. Not precisely. It was more of an intense disquietude. He was never quite good at reading women. Give him an armed, wild giant running from the Wraith, he could deal…but a woman?
"What's your name?"
She smiled brightly at him and took hold of his hand. He hadn't meant it as an overture but if the lady wanted to hold his hand instead of making him feel all sorts of pain, he was not going to complain. "I am named Oblee."
"Oblee. Nice. Who's…Banee?"
Her grip tightened. "He was my promised." Her voice contained a hint of sadness.
"Where is he?" John spoke quietly, filling his voice with compassion. The subtle art of interrogation resided in ignorance. Never let them know you are looking for answers. He'd had plenty of practice with Elizabeth. Not as interrogator but as interrogatee. The woman had incredible skills. She could make you admit anything in what most would consider friendly conversation over coffee.
The smile was back, her eyes were shining. "He is here. You have brought him to me."
"Me?"
"Yes! You shall see! It will be wonderful! You were the last link, the sixth sense, the missing piece! Now that you have come, I will claim him!"
They had arrived at a house. It looked like the perfect representation of an English cottage. Not that John had ever been to England, but this was it to him. In a clearing surrounded by a forest, a small brook bubbling peacefully, surrounded by blooming flowers, it was definitely cottagey. He searched the area for a fat cat lounging in the sun but could see none. Ah well, it couldn't be perfect. This was, after all, an alien planet. Still, close enough.
He shrugged and followed the woman up the stony path. She preceded him through the door and jovially greeted the inhabitants of the little house. Plastering a neighbourly smile on his face, John stepped in.
The greeting died on his lips as he took in the sights of his new roommates. Two women sat at a round, wooden table sharing a plate of fruit. A man sat on a cosy chair by the fireplace; another was smiling and welcoming Oblee. The last man leaned against the kitchen counter, a glass of pale blue liquid to his lips.
All had the same hazel eyes, the same full lips. All had the same cheeks, the same nose, the same chin. Bone structure, hair colour, everything so incredibly familiar. The women had longer hair and lacked the facial one. The three men had the same carefully constructed dishevelled look and one had a moustache.
John stood, framed in the doorway, and gaped. The five residents of this little house were exact replicas of himself.