A/N: Promised cookies for all! And cake. And Tacos. Sandwiches... Face it, we're having a party. That's how much I love you for all your reviews.
Ch. 15
Games
It must have been a one time thing. John hoped it was a one time thing, but hope wasn't a promise and did nothing to help his sleep. Nothing heard by the others, nothing seen in full by John – it could have been passed off as a dream. But then there were those three gouges in the stone. No denying those.
After that night, John took nothing but first watch, stretching it as long as he could, just to wait and see. Nothing since, no whispers, not even the soft tread of feet trying to pad by without notice. The nights stayed quiet after that.
Neither Bren nor Krissa took it lightly, but being the realists that they were, knew there was little to be done except wait and see if it happened again. Bart, as always, was impassive and cryptic in saying " these things happen." John pressed him for better insight, but the creature was vague on the details, replying only that each party had their 'ways' of dealing with another party.
Days passed, the majority of which were spent in the lab. John was back in his shirt and vest, stitched to a perfection as though they'd never been torn. He was wise this time around to always bring his deck of cards, and idled the hours with solitaire and attempting to erect a house of cards that never got past a single story. Bren kept occupied by helping Krissa. Bart was content just to stand around. At times, John caught the creature dozing on its feet. Lunch was usually taken in the lab, but for a simple break in routine, they would take it in the dining hall, or outside when the clouds finally broke and the sun was allowed to blaze through.
Where ever Krissa went, Bren and John went, and vice versa, Bart always trailing behind. Bren was insistent on taking care of the vrat himself, which provided something else to do besides sitting around a moldy lab. Feeding, grooming, walking, and the periodic riding by Krissa – the thing was more horse than the shaggy nags.
The evening meal was proving interesting to John. Since Avril's disappearance, the atmosphere had gone from chatty and tense, to mute and nervous. Suspicious looks was all that was exchanged, and any conversation that came into being was kept within the party, low-toned and conspiratorial.
Each night, the Genii protector's gaze altered just a fraction. Curious, quizzical, recalling, narrow-eyed suspicion, and then all out dislike. The second protector and the scientist were completely oblivious to this visual progression. John tried not to return the gaze, but kept watch out of the corner of his eye.
The watching bled over to simple passing by through the dungeon or outside.
In terms of casual encounters, the rarest encounter was with Savine. Once in a while one of the Mad Max crew might make an appearance – that Vice fellow still limping and trying not to show it – but never the old bat. It wasn't anything that John could count among the good or the bad. Maybe she was up to something, or maybe she was busy doing the mad scientist gig – more than likely the two were going hand in hand. Both Krissa and Bren also found it something to be extra wary about.
Five days, six days, seven, a week, a week and a half. No one else pulled a vanishing act. Neither was anyone making eye contact with anyone else, though that Genii kept attempting to with John. Dislike was turning into loathing, John could feel it oozing off the man like a heat wave.
Good times weren't an expectation, but they did manage to find a way to slip in.
Day four of the second week was drawing to a close, and the residents were allowed to witness it if they just looked out any given window. John did as he set out the cards on the carpeted floor of the parlor. The sky was cloud free and painted yellow, pink, and violet along the tree line. Krissa had picked a good day, and a good time, to call it quits for the evening.
Atlantis sunsets were better, blazing at the horizon, fading from color to color, cutting golden paths through the water and stretching on into forever when viewed from the right balcony. Then the stars would follow, beginning at where the ocean ended, pin pricks of light thrown across the black with wild abandon. John had just begun mapping and naming constellations, though no one seemed willing to except the constellations Pinky and the Brain.
But sunsets were sunsets, and stars were stars. John settled for being thankful enough just to see both after the constant gray ceiling hovering like an empty threat. Krissa explained it was just the way of the weather of this world. Days of clouds with no rain, then eventually clouds with too much rain. But not for some time more.
Bren made his rounds checking each of the devices placed about the room. Bart added more wood to the fire, after which passing its clawed paw over a small panel that caused the little shield to rise, flicking pink and blue whenever a stray ember got lose. Krissa hummed to herself as she combed out her hair. It was passed the evening meal, but still too early for bed.
Not that John had any prospects of going to sleep. Sleep always did have something against him, and being in this place didn't help.
The unpredictability of dreams – recent dreams especially – was always to blame.
" Mr. Bart?" Krissa said, doing a small skip and a hop to her humming. Bart's insistence that Krissa forgo the use of 'mister' when referring to Bart seemed always to land on deaf ears, until Bart just finally gave up. " Would it be too much trouble for us to have some tea. Wyen tea preferably? And some dipped rolls?"
Bart sniffed. " Of course, Miss Krissa."
Bart scurried from the room. Krissa, meandering and humming, wandered over to John and went quiet as she watched him play.
She pointed at the cards with her brush. " Are there other games you can play with those?"
John looked up at her and smiled. He'd been waiting – hoping - for someone to ask him that. He scooped the rows up and shuffled them back into the deck.
" Why, yes, yes there is," he said, still shuffling and grinning. " Tons, loads, crap loads. Poker, Gin Rummy, War, Egyptian War, Go Fish..."
Krissa beamed then crouched to the floor, folding her legs beneath her until they vanished under the heavy night gown. " Could you teach me one? I have games of my own, but..."
" They're boring now that you've played them a thousand times," John finished, dividing the deck then flipping them back together. " Yeah, we can start with an easy one. Go Fish. You wanna play, Bren? Swear I'll go easy on you both since you're new to this."
Bren ambled over and sat more deliberately than his young charge, with joints popping and muscles creaking. He sat with legs crossed Indian style and arms draped over his knees. John handed out the cards as he explained the rules. Krissa and Bren proved quick learners, not to John's surprise.
Bart returned carrying a silver tray holding a silver tea-pot (that looked more modern day art deco than Victorian), cups, and a bowl of glazed rolls.
" Care to join us, Bart?" John asked. Bart set the tray by the little group. He regarded the cards and the players with a massive, overwhelming lack of interest. Then again, it wasn't like he expressed much else, so there was no real reading the vulture visage.
" It would be an imposition, Mr. Sheppard, seeing as how you have already begun."
John snorted. " Imposition my butt. It's freakin' go fish, and we barely started. Come on, more players makes it more interesting and I can tell you about the other games. Poker, now there's a card game..."
He took the cards, shuffled them, then redistributed. Krissa poured the tea and passed out the cups on their large saucers where the rolls could be placed. Outside, yellow and pink faded until it was only violet melting into navy blue. Stars pricked the skies, stopped dead by the serrated tree line before reaching the horizon. John explained the game of poker, its intricacies, and Krissa listened with rapt attention. After poker, he explained the other games he knew of – or at least recalled the best. He even explained solitaire.
When the tea and rolls were gone, and the next game finished, the sky was perfectly black, and Krissa was yawning until her jaw popped. John gathered up the cards and tapped them together on the tray.
" We'll try something else tomorrow," he said.
Kirssa rose stiffly to her feet and stretched. " That was fun. I would really like to play that poker game you talked about."
John twisted his mouth uncertainly. " Really? It's not really a kid's game."
Krissa grinned. " Well, I'm not really a kid. Well, like most kids. Please Mr. Sheppard?"
John gave her a heavy-lidded look. " Yeah, right, not like most kids. You're like my sister when she was a kid. All she had to do was say please in that sweet 'I'm all innocent' little girl voice of hers and everyone would be all over her like peasants sucking up to a queen. Truth was, she was a little hell raiser and only I knew it." Even though he'd done his share of fawning. The child had been 'little princess' to the skin, and diva to the core. The last John heard, even as an adult, she still was. John waved his hand. " Yeah, sure."
Krissa bounced on her toes, then composed herself, smoothing her nightgown. " Excellent. It really does sound like fun."
John stood and arched his back until it cracked. " Dang, I really need to adopt a better way to sit. I hope whatever was in that tea doesn't have me passing out after two hours."
Krissa, heading to the bed chamber, stopped and turned. She was worried, John could see it covering every inch of her face.
" You're taking first watch again?"
John furrowed his brow. " Yeah."
Krissa clenched the sides of her gown in her fists. John hadn't seen her that nervous since John had officially positioned himself as one of her protectors.
" It's just... You shouldn't take so long watching. You should switch off with Bren more."
John sat on the couch to remove his boots and give his feet some breathing room. " Why? What we do works out fine. Besides, I'm not much of a sleeper anyways."
Krissa chewed her lip. " Well, even so, you should sleep more. It's not healthy if you don't."
John halted in pulling the laces of his second boot.
Great. Beckett has discovered telepathy and is relaying instructions to Krissa. John let let out a slow breath.
" So I've heard, more than once." Over and over until my hands were inches from Carson's throat. And darned if both doc and genius child weren't right.
Krissa was back to chewing her lip. She fidgeted with the need to say more, and John waited. Instead, she turned and hurried into the bed chamber.
John felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned his head to see the data pad being held out to him.
She's worried. Thinks you aren't sleeping well.
John looked up at Bren. " Why would she think that?"
Bren typed.
Have you seen yourself lately?
John had. There were plenty of mirrors around to prevent him from avoiding it, plus the mirror in the shaving kit that had been present in the bathroom when they arrived. He saw nothing he wasn't already used to, except an increase of pallor to his face and shadows beneath his eyes.
Bren typed again.
She's also been monitoring you with the bio-scanner when you weren't looking.
John started in surprise. " Wait, I'm confused. Who's supposed to be taking care of who here?"
Bren typed, a little longer this time.
It's shared. We protect her, she takes care of us. She does it to me all the time. Doesn't know I know. I always say, she has a lot of brains, but even more heart. She feels responsible for us both. You even more. You saved us, volunteered to protect without being asked, despite dangers. She does not want anything to happen to you as a result.
John nodded, handed the pad back, then dropped his head into his hands.
" Ah crap!" He lifted his head to look at Bren. " She really, really needs to get it through her head that it's what I do; protect, guard, defend. Honor, serve, protect, whatever. Doesn't matter who or what, it's part of my job, and it's a job I try to do with every molecule in me. Hell, it's freakin' second nature. I just do it, half the time without thinking except to think about a strategy. I'm not the one she should be worrying about. I'm just a grunt, expendable, meant to be expendable."
Bren typed.
I do not know what a 'grunt' is, but I do know Krissa. Nothing you say will convince her otherwise. No one is expendable to her. I have protected her for years, and she has been there for me in turn. She will do what she can to be there for you.
" Not at the expense of nearly getting killed though, right?"
She is not naïve. She knows risking herself is risking us as well. But she has pushed limits in her attempt at helping. I do think you should listen to her, get more sleep, keep watches shorter between us. You can take first, but only for two hours. Tea should kick in by then.
John glanced up. Bren was grinning.
John released a sharp breath and returned the grin with a feeble one of his own. " Cool by me."
" Joooohn."
" Atlantis, John."
" Tell me, please tell me."
A touch slid like cold oil over John's mind, coating his brain, sliding down his neck, slipping along his spine, caressing him...
It was like someone was petting him. Good little Sheppard. Always be a good little John. Good boy.
He hated it, hated it more than he hated the wraith, the Genii, the Cyladrans. It made him sick, afraid, like he was being covered in filth. He cringed, shrank back, squirmed, arched. He slammed back, pressed his spine into the cushion and his head into the pillow. Fear made him whimper and gasp, anger made him mentally snarl and rage. His fingers sought his back beneath the shirt intent on ripping the skin and pulling what slid over him from his body. But there was more cloth in the way, too tight to tear.
Get out get out get out get out! You Stupid... GET OOOOUUUTTTT!
The cold fingers of ice were yanked from him, and he gasped again at the pain of it. There was a weight on his shoulders, increasing in pressure, and his upper body shook.
He snapped his eyes open to the frightened face of Bren. John gasped again, then his breath fell into heavy pants. Cool air touched him and he shivered. He pushed himself to his elbows, and Bren helped him the rest of the way into sitting up. The old man snatched his pad from his pocket and typed quickly away.
In that small space of time, John's mind slunk from the dream haze to assess the physical. The racing heart, free-flowing sweat, and clothes pasted to John like a second skin. Bren showed John the pad.
You were breathing fast. Panting. Pulse was rapid. Moaned, moved around, almost fell from couch, shaking. Nightmare?
John glanced around fearfully. Touching – he could have sworn something was... was what? Touching, petting, burrowing like a worm into his mind, so real he rubbed his back to try and remove its remnant. It had been – in a word, more than one word – disgusting, revolting, violating. Nothing of a sexual connotation, just intrusive and unnatural.
A violation of soul rather than body, and it lingered. Bile burned in John's throat, and he had to swallow four times before it finally relented to going back down.
John eventually nodded. " Yeah, bad dream. I – um... I get a lot of those, sometimes."
He looked up at Bren. " T-thanks for getting me out of it." He gave Bren a wan smile not even John believed. But the gratitude was genuine. There had been no pulling himself out of that tangibility. He continued to rub his back, then moved up to his neck, shivering.
Bren typed; What was the dream?
" You really don't want to know. Hell, I don't want to know and I'm the lucky SOB who got to experience it."
You're watch?
John dropped back onto his pillow. " Not much of a choice now."
John was starting to follow Bart's example, and nod off during Krissa's hours of Sil assembling. His eyelids would grow a few pounds heavier, attempt to slide close, then snap open at the sensation of falling when John's chin dropped to his chest. He cajoled Bart into a few games of go fish, but the creature refused to get into the game, and quit after two rounds, using the excuse that it needed to be at the ready should Krissa need anything.
John had the more distinct impression that Bart was uncomfortable about playing card games. It wasn't an outright discomfort, but he seemed less indifferent than usual while playing. John couldn't figure the reasoning behind it.
Another day, another few parts added to Krissa's device, and another mundane dinner full of tense silence and subtle watching. Only that one Genii protector was more forth right, now staring directly at John, refusing to hide his intent.
The jig was up. The man had either placed the uniform, or the face. John hoped uniform. His face tended to inspire deeper hatred among the Genii.
When the evening meal was over, the small party made their way to the room.
" Do we play today?" Krissa asked. " I've brought some discarded bits of metal and parts we could use as chips."
Krissa was moving quick to keep up with John's long-legged strides as they moved to the stairs. John, hands in his pocket and P-90 thumping his uninjured side, grinned.
" Yeah, yeah, we'll play. I don't think your family's going to be too happy that some stranger taught you how to gamble, though."
" You're not a stranger, and it's not like we're playing for anything important, just parts. I'd never bet anything important."
" Smart girl."
They were to the stairs, and Krissa was already hurrying up in an uncontained show of youthful exuberance.
" Atlantean!"
John heard the shout, but his mind moved faster than his reactions, and kept him from turning around and acknowledging the designation.
Krissa, on the other hand, was none the wiser, and turned her head.
" Just keep going," John said under his breath. " Don't pay any attention."
" Atlantean! I'm speaking to you!"
Bren shot a warning glare over his shoulder.
" Not you, old man, or you thing. I want that tall, skinny, Atlantean to face me right now!"
Cheap shot. Very cheap shot. John grinned and stepped onto the stairs behind Krissa. 'Ignore them and they'll go away' didn't always work, but there was a vindictive satisfaction to it none the less.
" Atlantean! Stop or I will shoot!"
Now that was difficult to ignore. The party stopped. John turned slowly, Bren more quickly bringing up his rifle. The Genii protector was alone with his gun raised and his eyes smoldering. Sweat dewed on the man's forehead and his breath was coming fast. Anger blended in with a little fear. It might have been safe to assume the Genii was acting on his own accord and not through orders, but John wasn't going to give in to assumptions.
" What's an Atlantean?" John said. The Genii stalked forward in long, angry strides until he was two feet from John with the barrel of the gun right in the Colonel's face.
" Do not play stupid with me," he snarled with his lip curled. " I know what you are. I've seen your people before. I would know you no matter what, no matter where. You... You Lanteans... You're the reason my brother is dead!"
He struck John across the face with the weapon, knocking him to the floor. John could have reacted – should have, actually – but his reaction time had chosen that moment to go AWOL on him. Stars flashed in his eyes, and blood pooled metallic and foul in his mouth. He spat the blood onto the stone floor between the stairs and the carpet.
" John! Are you all right?" Krissa crouched beside him and took his arm to help him up. Before rising, John looked back to see the Genii being held back at rifle-point by Bren. Bart was impassive as always.
" You're dead, Lantean!" The Genii screamed. " You will not survive here! I will make sure of it!"
John stood and wiped his mouth. " You'll have to get in line."
He started up the stairs with Krissa still holding onto his arm, watching him anxiously as though he might topple at any moment. Bart followed, and Bren lingered and started up backwards to keep his gun trained on the Genii.
" You're dead!" the man screamed.
Krissa winced. " Why is he so mad at you? Do you know that man?"
John chuckled dryly. " I know his people – in a way that I'm not on good standing with them."
" May I ask – though it's not really my business, I know – but may I ask why?"
" They tried to invade Atlantis," John said. " And I stopped them."
Enough said. Krissa quirked both eyebrows. " Ah."
Once they reached the safety of the room, Krissa had Bart get a wet cloth and John sitting down as she looked over his jaw and the cut on his lip. Bart returned with the cloth, which Krissa took it and pressed it into John's hand to hold to the assaulted spot on his face.
" I guess this means no game?" she asked sheepishly.
John gave her his best lop-sided grin. " Wouldn't dream of passing up a game that's already in the bag."
" Huh?"
John shook his head. " Never mind. You'll see."
Bart was sent for more tea, and the game commenced when he returned. Krissa soon learned the meaning behind John's odd phrase. She'd grasped the concept easily enough, just not the skill of poker faces. Bren got the hang of it eventually, but Bart was the real master, which was why he ended up winning most of the nuts, bolts, screws, and scraps.
Krissa was content enough just to be playing, but her time eventually came. Hers was an intellect of numbers, possibilities, and problem solving - and though she couldn't hold a poker face if her life depended on it, she knew a winning hand when she had one.
The game ended when the vast majority of the 'chips' went to Bart.
" Gee, Bart, try not to rub it in so hard," John said at the complete lack of enthusiasm on the creature's face. John gathered the cards together and tapped them into place.
" I find no joy in winning scrap, Mr. Sheppard," Bart replied, gathering the bits back into the small bag.
" Well you don't have to rub that in either. Come on, you won four games in a row. Plenty of reason to act like a sore winner and brag."
" If you say so, sir."
Krissa, who'd vanished into the bed chamber to get ready for bed, came out again carrying a smooth black box about a hand-span in length and width. " Mr. Sheppard? Since it's still early, I would like to show you one of my favorite games."
John tucked the deck of cards into the pocket of his vest draped over the arm of the couch. " Sure."
" In here, we need a bigger table."
John rose stiffly and followed Krissa into the bed chamber. In the corner was a medium, round table with a chair. Krissa pulled up another of the red padded chairs, then slid the top off the box. Inside glittered hundreds of small, round crystal stones of blue, violet, and transparent. Krissa scooped them out, set them aside, then flipped the lid over to slide it back into place. It was like a chess-board, but with smaller and more numerous squares.
" It's called Cux. It's a game of strategy," Krissa said. " Very difficult, but fun when you get the hang of it."
Her explanation made it sound like an advanced version of chess, with a lot more possible moves. Purple went at the front, then blue, then clear. Krissa made the first move by placing a clear stone at the front before the purple stones.
" You're not sleeping well," she stated after five minutes of silence.
John moved one of the purple stones a square. " Wow, so blunt. I really look that bad?"
Krissa moved a clear crystal and twitched a small, abashed smile. " S-sort of. I – um – I've heard you sometimes, the way you wake up. And... Bren is kind of worried. He said it was because of bad dreams. I get bad dreams sometimes. They're hard to wake up from, and make it hard to go back to sleep."
John slid a blue stone four squares. He didn't reply, just studied Krissa and her discomfort in her attempt at pulling a Heightmeyer.
" Yeah, that's bad dreams for you."
Krissa sent a blue stone of her own five squares. " Mine are usually about Savine. She's always chasing me with something – usually a gun. What are your dreams about?"
John shrugged, and moved a clear stone. " Can't really describe them. And – to tell you the truth – I don't think you should hear about them. Might not be suitable for people under thirteen. Plus bad dreams aren't strangers to me. I get one kind, then I get another."
Although his recent batch of badness was just plain sickening, even with nothing to see. He was drawing close to wanting to see Menk smirking at him rather than feel what his dreams were having him feel.
" That's not right," Krissa said, moving a blue stone within range of John's violet stones. " It'll make you sick."
" I think it already has." John moved a violet stone in range of Krissa's set. Krissa kept her eyes on the bored, chewing her lip. She was already aware, maybe more than John.
" Not that badly," she said. " But, it'll get worse."
" Been there, done that. Oh, and I'm aware of you scanning me behind my back."
Krissa took one of John's violet crystals. " I knew you'd find out. Or Bren told you."
John pointed a finger at her. " See, I always took you for the type to know that I know that you know what Bren knows... Face it, we're all too clever for eachother. But you shouldn't worry about me. I'm here to watch out for you. And you need to face facts – there's a chance that either me or even Bren might not..."
" Don't." A simple statement, not too loud, not too soft, but with a force behind it that made John fumble his next move, and cause the crystal to slide from the board.
Krissa's eyes shimmered with held back moisture.
John you're a cold, reptilian SOB. Rodney was right on with the whole snake issue. " Krissa, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be that dang... forward about it..."
" It's okay," she cut in. " You're right. But how else am I supposed to think? I don't want to think as the other scientists do. They don't care about the people protecting them. They're aware that they might not survive. I'm aware too, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. There's also a chance that nothing'll happen to you both, and I would like to help that chance any way I can. You're not just a protector, John, you're my friend. Friends worry about eachother. And if you get sick, then the chance of you surviving will decrease. I'm not worried about myself, because I also have Bren. I'm protected by two. But it's not right that you should be hurt – or even killed – because you are not well. It's okay to have someone to watch out for you, too."
John pushed a clear crystal forward. " Krissa, you have to understand something. I... pretty much do whatever it takes when it comes to – you know – protecting. If my team were here, they'd tell you. I was willing to die to save Atlantis, and if any situation came down to having me dead so that everyone else can live – I will go that far. I will do what it takes. You can't always watch out for everyone."
Now why does that sound so freakin' familiar? It was true – words really could sink in after the right amount of time and repetition.
Krissa fiddled with a violet crystal in her fingers. " Doesn't mean you can't try."
John coughed out an abrupt, short-lived laugh. " Yeah, it doesn't." Then he had a thought. " Why do you care so much?"
Krissa moved a clear crystal. " Why do you?"
John grinned. " I once told someone – when I wanted to go rescue some of our people captured by the wraith – that it was the right thing to do."
Krissa looked up to smile back. " Now you know why."
" Wow, you really are smart."
Krissa moved one more piece. " Apparently; because I just won."
John looked at the board, contemplated the moves made, and laughed.
SGASGASGASGA
A/N: Keep in mind, a lot of time is passing. We have a month to get through here. I may be upping the posts since I recently finished the final chapter of this fic. Not quite daily updates, but close enough.
