A/N: A little humorous chapter to lighten the mood a bit. Again, many hugs for the reviews that make me smile and satisfy the muses ferocious appetite.
Ch. 25
Under the Skin
John opened his eyes to a dark head resting on the edge of the bench. He blinked away the film blurring his vision to focus on that head and allow familiarity to take hold and add in a face. But not wanting to waste the time, he simply lifted his own head and leaned enough to the side to see the face. He squinted.
" Dr. Weir?" His voice was a harsh whisper, but his proximity had him heard. Elizabeth's eyes twitched, then fluttered rapidly open. She stretched, yawned, turned her head, and jerked away on seeing John's face.
" John! Colonel!" She chuckled ruefully." I am so sorry. Kind of startled me there."
John blinked like a brain-numbed owl at her. In fact, numb was exactly how he felt on doing a quick perusal of his surroundings. He was all ready with the question of why he was here and how he arrived, but memories he had assumed to be dreams sharpened in clarity, and the recollection made his heart pound. Then he looked back at Elizabeth and narrowed his eyes.
" Okay, I know why I'm here. Why are you here?"
Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her drawn-up knees and shrugged. " Just... keeping you company..." she trailed off, and her features went slack. Her wrist shot up and her wide-eyes shot down at her watch.
" Oh my gosh! I – I must have fallen asleep. I wasn't going to stay that long." She sighed and dropped her arm, tilting her head back against the jumper wall. " Too late now." She rolled her head toward John. " How are you feeling?"
John sighed. " Can't complain."
That earned a smirk from Elizabeth. " John, since when has that ever been an answer? Seriously, how are you feeling?" She rolled her head to the right, but the bench was empty of one Scottish physician. " I think inquiring medical minds will want to know."
" I feel fine."
She looked back at John with full-blown skepticism oozing from her. " Come on, John. That's like crying wolf..."
John shook his head. " No, Elizabeth, really, I feel great. Okay, maybe a little groggy, but that could be because I'm starved. A little food, some moving around, I should be fine. Last night was the best sleep I had in days. No dreams. Nada, nadia, zip, and zilch. Just good old fashioned R and R. Trust me this time, I really mean it."
Elizabeth's eyes moved down to the device clutched to John's chest, and she gestured at it. " Would this uninterrupted R and R have anything to do with that?"
John craned his neck down, and the details of last night became more tangible. " I'd be lying if I said no." He shivered, and pried one hand from the sil to pull the blanket up to his shoulders, hiding the device. He didn't recall getting a blanket.
" Can I see it?" she asked.
Another pry, this one requiring more effort, pulling the sil away from him and sliding it from under the blanket to hand to Elizabeth. She took it gingerly, and looked it over in the same manner.
" Did you change, John?"
John squirmed deeper beneath the blanket with the heart-thudding impression of being a kid under interrogation on whether or not he'd been the one to push younger brother into the mud. " Um... Y – you know, I don't really recall..."
A smile twitched at the corner of Elizabeth's lips. " It's all right if you did, John." She held up the sil. " I understand."
John huffed out a sharp breath, and his next words were bitterly heavy. " Understand? What's there to understand? I was being paranoid." He reached out and took the sil from Weir. " I don't even know what Diavante wanted with this. I mean for all I know he was going to give it to his staff so he didn't have to shut his shield down all the time."
Elizabeth nodded ponderously. " Maybe. Or, he might have sold it to the Genii, or the Cyladrans. Or it could have fallen into the hands of the wraith, and fail safes or not, they could have found a way to duplicate it. John, whatever the situation, your fears were legit. They still are if what you've been told about this Diavante character is true. Don't feel bad for being cautious."
John slipped his arm holding the sil back beneath the covers.
" You know," Elizabeth began, " maybe when Rodney isn't working on that, you should keep hold of it. Keeping it close might help you sleep better."
John moved his head in a sluggish nod, and pressed the sil back to his chest. He didn't like admitting it, even to himself, but he did get a sense of peace having the device in his own hands.
Both became quiet for a moment, John because sleep residue was being stubborn about leaving, and Weir because she seemed engrossed in studying John's face in that contemplative way of hers. John looked away at the crawling sensation he got from it, and pitied amoebas under microscopes. Weir apparently took notice when her head twitched and her eyes blinked from their trance.
" I'm sorry John, I didn't mean to... um... stare. I was just – just wondering... out of curiosity, nothing else... what it's like – when you change?"
Innocent enough, but John's skin kept trying to crawl from him. " It's... hard."
" Hard?"
" To explain. I'm still me."
Weir nodded. " I think you've said that on more than one occasion. If you're uncomfortable talking about it..."
John shook his head with more vigor. " No. It shouldn't be hard to talk about. It's just tricky to explain."
Elizabeth's features shifted from curiosity to concern. " It doesn't hurt, does it? When you change?"
" Oh hell no. I'm aware of it, but I don't really feel it, you know what I mean?"
She shook her head. John sighed heavily.
" Um... okay, it's – I guess you could say – automatic, like moving your arm but without looking at it. You know its happening and can see it happening in your head, you just don't see it for yourself until after its over. Then, my mind, it like..." he removed one hand from under the blanket to gesture with spread fingers at his skull, " sharpens. Really, really sharpens. I don't really feel anything, emotions I mean. Well, I do, just not as strongly... although anger had a pretty good hold. Crap this is hard. Like I keep saying, it's still me. I still feel, but it's never overwhelming. Emotions don't control me, only the goal, whatever the goal is. My goal on Sriot was to protect Krissa, so I did what I had to in order to. My mind worked faster, I planned faster, and my actions didn't register until I was out of that body. But it never got to a point where I didn't know what I was doing. I never went – were-wolf or anything, going ballistic, ripping everything to pieces, crap like that. It was like..." he snapped his finger, " piloting a jumper. All automatic."
Elizabeth smiled. " Sounds interesting."
John lifted his shoulder. " I guess." He wanted to say it was cool, because in many ways it was, except for the claws scraping the base of his skull where the form's presence lay curled and dormant. He said automatic, in control, but it wasn't all that smooth. The presence, no matter its easy integration into his being, was still a stranger generating bodily discomfort.
The change, and the form, were unnatural. His body knew it, his mind knew it, so there could never be true acceptance. Nature wasn't that open-armed, and as cool as the shape-change was, it still made him nervous.
" You don't seemed thrilled," Weir said next.
" Should I be? It's just a serum. It'll be gone in a few weeks anyways."
Good riddance, both his mind and body hissed.
" No sense in getting attached to it," he finished.
Beckett had impeccable timing. He arrived at the precise moment Elizabeth was about to comment or question, and the arrival of the doctor ended the conversation there. He had his bag in one hand, and knelt beside the bench.
" Mornin' Colonel," he said. " How'd you sleep?"
John smiled and lifted his head. " Like I was sedated."
" Feel capable of sittin' up?"
" Possibly." John gradually pushed himself into sitting with Weir rising to take his arm and keep him steady. The world went merry-go-round on him for no more than two heartbeats before settling down in its rightful order. " That was funky."
" Dizzy?"
" A little. But then I've got the appetite to eat an elephant... not that I would. Nice animals, elephants..."
Grinning, Carson breezed through his doctorly routine. He lifted John's shirt enough to listen to his heart and lungs, checked his temperature, then blinded him with the penlight. He removed the shredded bandages, and chased off the last sleep remnants with cold fingers prodding and pushing sore ribs.
" Jeez, not so hard doc!"
" They hurt?"
" When you do that, yeah."
" How bad? Scale of one to ten?"
" An annoying four. It's not like yesterday."
Beckett eyed him skeptically. John just rolled his eyes.
" Come on, doc, I'm not just saying it to get out of the infirmary. Speed healing, remember?"
Beckett pursed his lips but kept prodding. " Aye, they don't feel broken. And the bruising's gone down a bit. How about your ankle?"
" I got here, didn't I?" To push the point home, John struggled to his feet and moved passed Elizabeth and Beckett to limp around.
" See? Not so bad." It really wasn't. Not a joy to walk on, but neither did it have his leg buckling from agony.
Beckett folded his arms and exhaled through his teeth. " I suppose. Crutches though, just to play it safe. You let me help you to the infirmary, You get X-rayed, I get you crutches, then you're free to go."
John tilted his head back and whispered a thank-you into the air. He let Carson grip his arm and guide him from the puddle jumper with Elizabeth following behind. He wasn't off the cargo-door ramp when he turned back to her in sudden thought.
" Any word on Krissa yet?"
Elizabeth stopped and crossed her arms in front of her chest, shaking her head soberly. " No, not yet. But we haven't been searching that long."
John nodded. " I know. Just... needed to ask."
SGASGASGASGA
Back in uniform, relatively, if one called BDUs and a long sleeved shirt a uniform. The quick healing had turned the deep gashes into angry red scabs, and the lesser cuts nearly invisible. It was the scabs he was more self conscious about. His tint less skin had them standing out like zebra stripes. On the secondary plus side, the cast on his arm had been sliced off and replaced by bandages. Tender, but tolerable enough for him to use his fingers to a lesser extent, such as holding a pen or fork. He still suffered a sling.
John's first destination on leaving his quarters after dressing was to hobble to the mess. Crutches ended up being a single crutch, since improvement in the ankle was more pronounced on the X-ray and Beckett wasn't confident enough about the damaged arm to let John use it too much. The crutch clacked down the corridors to the mess, awarding Sheppard a few casual glances of minor curiosity.
Minor, yes, but irritating after a time. A month shouldn't have seemed such a long time the way months tended to fly by. For John, in hindsight, that month was more like a year. The faces of strangers were always flashing his way, giving him grins of familiarity that weren't supposed to exist. Of course everyone knew him, if not by face, then by name, and if not by name than by the obvious injuries (nothing stayed quiet in Atlantis for long). The gimping trek to the mess hall had John longing for a known face. Rodney had been too casual about the people coming and going. If John didn't know any better, had his team not made their frequent visits, John would have sworn the entire city had been replaced with new personell.
The faces had him casting his eyes to the floor and keeping them there, except when he happened upon some young marine who insisted on saluting him. Couldn't look feeble for the soldiers. Not that John cared what people thought, but morale was hell to maintain even on good days. Respect even worse.
On entering the mess, and joining the back of the line there, John realized that he had a problem. Crutch in one hand, and the other bound and tender, he needed to strategize.
Lose the crutch. Obviously, but if Beckett caught him, 'pissed' wouldn't be sufficient to describe the reaction.
Except that Carson wasn't here, and John's mouth was salivating to the point of flooding over.
Of course the more logical route to go would be to ask someone for help.
Dare I cross that line? He considered it. Which way to go, which way to go? Stubborn pride wanted him to lose the crutch, but a deeper, more profound, and way wiser voice was whispering to him (whisper like a distant shout) to do what would be less of a hindrance and a problem. If he dropped the tray trying to do this on his own, it would only merit more stares, stares of sympathy, of humor, and that tended to bruise pride pretty bad.
The clarity, and easy acceptance of this, startled him.
And this wasn't about pride, this was about getting food into himself before his stomach imploded. Instinct, pure instinct, satiate the goal, not the ego. He searched around the mess until his eyes settled on the only face that sparked immediate familiarity. He moved from the line and hobbled over to Zelenka who seemed about ready to leave as he wiped his mouth with a napkin and tossed the napkin onto the empty tray. The sound of the crutch, when close enough, caught Radek's attention and his head whipped around.
" Colonel Sheppard!" he seemed to yelp the name, which made John flinch.
" Um, hey doc Z."
" You are out of the infirmary already? Rodney said you were very injured. As in, 'not see the outside of the infirmary for months', injured. Uh, his words, not mine."
John smirked at that. " Kind of got that the moment you said them. What can I say, they weren't that bad and I'm a quick healer."
" But Rodney said..."
" You know what? Rodney says a lot of things. It doesn't matter."
" But I have been hearing rumors..."
" You should never listen to rumors, doc, you know that. Listen, before you say anything else, can I ask you a favor?"
Zalenka blinked and stammered at that. " Y-yes, yes, of course Colonel. What is it?"
John lifted his bandaged wrist. " A little help."
Zelenka stared at the hand until he perked with realization. " Oh! Oh, yes of course. You need help with getting food. Of course I can help."
Radek rose and the two headed back into the line. Pit-cold hunger had John loading the tray, and trying to hide it from view of the rest of the mess with his body. Waffles, toast, oatmeal, bacon, eggs, fruit bowl, two muffins, a small carton of orange juice, of milk, and a cup of tea.
John had yet to eat that much in a day, let alone a sitting. He cringed at the amount, and peered over his shoulder periodically to see if anyone had noticed.
" Wow," Zelenka said as he lifted the ladened tray. " You must be quite hungry."
" Yeah. But could we not say it out loud for everyone to hear?" John limped over to the table tucked at the farthest end of the mess, devoid of any bodies. He had Zelenka set the tray on the side where John could have his back to the rest of the occupants.
" Thanks doc." John set the crutch against the table and eased himself into the chair.
" Glad to help," Radek replied. " Anything else?"
John shook his head, all eyes for the food.
" Then I must go. Rodney has me running diagnostics on the cylinder device, and I'd rather not hear him rant about results."
" Beat him to the punch, doc," John said. He grabbed his fork, and attacked the waffles first, hunched over the food and fighting the need to shovel. He couldn't have sat down more than two minutes ago, and the waffles were half gone.
" My gosh, doesn't Beckett ever feed you?"
John sucked in a breath and choked with bits of waffle and syrup flying from his mouth. A heavy hand hammered into his back hard enough for his spine to nearly scrape his sternum. Another set of more delicate, feminine hands grabbed up the carton of orange juice, pulled it open and thrust it into John's hand. John swigged it down in three huge swallows until the obstruction in his wind pipe went with it. But he kept on coughing afterwards.
" Jeez, McKay!" he choked.
McKay dropped into the seat beside John, setting down his own tray then moving the crutch to the other side of his own chair. " What? The only time I ever see a tray that full is when it's Ronon's."
The Satedan took the seat across from McKay, with a tray just as full as John's, but without the abashment. " When you're hungry, you're hungry," he said.
Teyla was already in the seat on John's other side, her tray carrying only oatmeal, a muffin, and juice. She smiled at John.
" It is good to see you are following Beckett's instructions."
John paused with dripping fork in the air en route to his mouth. " Actually... Ronon's right. I'm just really hungry."
Rodney shook a sugar packet as he looked John over. " Previous comment disregarded, I've been witness to the trays Beckett brought you." He slapped the packet down and proceeded to feel along John's shoulder and down his back.
John jerked away from the groping. " McKay, what the hell! Making sure I'm real or something? Stop doing that!"
McKay snatched his hand away before John could stab it with his fork.
" You say what the hell to me? What the hell to you! Haven't you gained any weight? I can still feel bone."
John cut furiously into his waffle. " Shut up, McKay."
" Actually, you could always feel bone on him," Ronon rejoindered. John looked up from his efforts to give the runner his most withering stare. Ronon reacted as he always did, by not reacting at all.
" What they mean," Teyla said. " Is that you are still slender, as you have always been."
" Yeah," McKay replied around a mouthful of fake eggs. " That's what I said, bony. The amount of food you've been scarfing should have put a little more padding between you and your ribs by now. Hell, if anything, I swear you actually lost weight. You just look... I don't know... skinnier."
Ronon shrugged. " Looks the same to me."
Useless as it was, John attempted another glare.
Rodney was right, but John wasn't about to say so. After the run through of vitals and X-rays, Beckett had John weighed, and almost choked on air to see Sheppard a fourth of a pound lighter.
Answer – the serum, and morphing into that monster the other night. The theory shared by the two was that more energy was required in order to accommodate both the body and the ability to change. It was Beckett's own theory, and hope, that John's constant hunger was only the body's way of gaining back all that had been lost during the days spent as the creature, and that eventually it would level out, and John would be satisfied hunger wise.
John hoped so. He was getting sick of the weird looks, and the constant salivating.
McKay leaned in close. " It's that serum thing, isn't it?"
John narrowed his eyes. " The words 'duh' mean anything to you, McKay? And keep it down. I'd really appreciate it if my role as Mary Shelley's living example of Frankenstein's monster be kept between us. Wouldn't want the entire city coming at me with pitch forks and torches, now would we?"
" Actually that was the movie. The book ended entirely differently. No mobs, no windmills, and no fires. That book was depressing as hell."
" You're vast knowledge of the literary world astounds me, McKay." With the waffles gone, John licked the plate clean. He set it aside and pulled the oatmeal to him, only to look up and catch the odd stares focused on him. " What?"
Mckay shook his head. " Never mind. Besides, Franky's monster was made of body parts."
" I'm souped up with DNA pieces."
Ronon pointed his dripping fork at Rodney. " He's got you there."
Rodney grabbed the salt shaker and sprinkled it liberally over his eggs. " Just... screw it. Why'd you take the sil last night?"
John shrugged since his mouth was full of oatmeal. He swallowed, then took a swig of milk. " Why does it matter? It's mine anyways... kind of. And I was going to bring it back."
" Uh-huh. Why'd you hide with it in the jumper?"
John's lip curled at the question barrage. He jammed his spoon into the gray mush someone had politely labeled oatmeal. It needed honey, and raisins, but he'd forgotten both. " Again, does it matter? Listen, a little girl almost died building that thing, and I almost died keeping it away from a big blob of smoke that makes that No Face thing on that Spirited Away movie we watched last month look cute and cuddly. If I feel like protecting it myself, then I sure as hell am going to." He dropped his plastic spoon and pushed back from the table. He disregarded the crutch to limp over to the condiments table and grab honey and a box of raisins. On limping back, he hadn't even sat down when he squeezed the honey on and dumped the raisins in. Digging in, he found both a massive improvement – in taste and for his mood.
" Don't ask me anything else about last night," John said between bites. " I knew what I was doing."
" Protecting the device," Ronon said.
John gestured at the Satedan with his bound wrist as far as the useless sling would let him. " See! He gets it. If Diviante got through the shield, think we'd be able to stop him?"
" Why does this Diavante want the device so badly?" asked Teyla.
John paused before taking another bite. " I... don't really know. He just does. That, and Atlantis. Either way, I'm not taking any chances."
" Well, just don't go pouncing on any of us in the middle of the night on accident when the need to protect kicks in," Rodney said, then bit into a muffin.
" Louder, McKay, I don't think everyone in the mess quite heard you."
" Relax, Colonel, no one cares. You tend to pounce whatever your... present condition. I'm just saying to watch where you land when you do."
John finished the oatmeal, licked the bowl clean, then went for the fruit, also licking it clean. He licked just about everything clean say for the tray and cartons. The tea he saved for last until it was cooled enough not to burn his throat, and it wasn't until he came to the tea that he realized – he wasn't hungry anymore.
He quirked an eyebrow. " Hey... I think I'm full."
Rodney dropped his fork to raise both hands. " Well praise the food gods, Sheppard's full."
John elbowed him in the flank. " Quit being sacrilegious."
" I wasn't," McKay snapped.
" To some religion out there you were." John held the cup of tea in both hands, allowing the warmth to spread through his palms. He sipped it, and that warmth slid throughout the rest of his body. He'd never realized the simple joy of being full – or at least satisfied enough not to want anything more, or bite the tray in irritation of it being empty. " This is better. You guy's want to do something? Take a walk? Hang out on the balcony? Annoy Kavenaugh?"
Rodney scraped the last of his eggs and bacon onto his fork with a piece of toast. " As much as I would love to give that man a migraine, you and I have work to do. Since you're so up in arms about what happens to that sil, you can help me study it, make sure I'm not doing anything that would hurt your little precious."
John jerked his elbow harder this time, eliciting a yelp from McKay. " Let's go play then," he said, setting down his empty cup.
In unison, Teyla, John, and Rodney deposited their empty trays onto Ronon's empty tray and said as one, "Thanks," on getting up and heading from the table, Rodney handing John back his crutch.
Ronon just growled, and took the trays.
SGASGASGASGA
It didn't seem right, but John was having fun playing with the sil. With the gate activated and the shield on, John inputed the codes, and the lights of the gate room immediately flickered and powered down. The blackout wasn't quite the ordeal with it being morning, just a skin-crawling annoyance for the techies in the control room.
" What the hell are you doing Dr. McKay!" Someone dared to bark. McKay didn't waste time on a response. It was all about the sil today. Stepping up to the gate with the sil in one hand, he placed his other hand on the shield, and gaped when it slipped right through.
" Oh wow! Freakin' wow! That is... is..."
Smirking, John came up beside Rodney and slid his hand through the shield as well. " Genius."
" Very."
They pulled their hands out, then waited with Rodney watching his watch. Five minutes, it took five minutes for the sil to power down and the lights to flicker back on. Rodney had John re-enter the codes, and the lights flickered back into darkness. He then had John head from the gateroom, and once passed the control room the lights hummed back on. Rodney jotted it all down on a tiny notepad.
" Timed and proximity sensitive," he chuckled in astonishment. " This really is..."
" Genius," John finished as he hopped down the steps. " I think Krissa's going to surpass you when she hits your age, McKay."
McKay snorted as he continued to jot. " Yeah, in matters of shield technology. What does she know about worm hole physics?"
John turned his mouth up in another smirk. " You really want to know? It just might make you cry."
McKay stuffed the notepad into his pocket, then yanked the sil from John's hands. " Cry? Or be impressed?" Rodney quirked an eyebrow.
" Cry, trust me."
They started heading for the lab, ignoring the dirty techy looks thrown their way. Rodney rotated the sil over in his hands as he studied it. Light flashed off the dark metal free of blood smears.
" So, uh," Rodney began, " what... exactly... do you look like when you... um, change?" The perusal was a ruse. Rodney was pointedly not looking at John.
John narrowed his eyes. A very complimentary question to the one Elizabeth had asked him this morning. But John had been expecting it to come a lot sooner.
It had never occurred to him until now the underlying tentativeness people seemed to be harboring around him. It manifested mostly as hesitancy in certain questions, although Beckett had been more profound about it. He had cut back on his stern warnings he normally dished out to John concerning matters of rest, food, and not overtaxing the body. Today, those warnings had come out sounding more like gentle reminders – 'don't forget to rest, don't forget to eat' rather than 'do as I say or I'll haul you back in here and strap you down!' Maybe a little overboard, but there had been times when Beckett had made such threats along those lines.
Again, not today. John actually found himself longing for the threats, because that's how it was supposed to be.
" I look like a monster."
" Scaley monster? Furry monster? Ugly monster? Care to elaborate?"
John sighed irritably. " Scaley."
They fell into uncomfortable silence for a moment until Rodney cleared his throat. " Um, maybe you could... draw a picture. Or... maybe..."
" No."
Rodney's head snapped up and around. " But you didn't hear..."
" Don't have to. I'm not slipping into critter mode just for a sneak peek. Krissa said the serum wears off faster if you don't take the form as much."
Rodney eyed John curiously. " You want it to be gone? But you've made it sound so... harmless."
" It is harmless. Doesn't mean I like being able to do it. I don't feel comfortable becoming some kind of... thing. It's weird, freaky, and nothing I'd do again unless I absolutely had to. And since you seem so hard-pressed to know, I look like a... I don't know, a dragon. A sharp, spikey dragon. Claws, teeth, the works."
" Ever consider the merits becoming some kind of super creature has?"
John coughed out a biting laugh. " No, I mostly think about the side-effects, like madness due to prolonged use of the serum, and eventual black blood. Oh, and don't forget the paranoia, I think Bart forget to mention that part."
" Bart?"
" Yeah, Bart, the genetic goblin who'd probably understand worm-hole physics even if you were the one explaining it. He filled me in on what it means to be a were-thing, but I'm starting to suspect he wasn't filled in on the whole deal himself. You may be safe from what I turn into, but I have no idea what it's really doing to me, and that makes me nervous, McKay. So don't take it personally if I refuse to slap on the secondary skin. Besides, I only have so many shirts I can rip holes into."
Although he did have a secret longing sprouting in the darker recesses of his soul to head back to the Cyladran world with the sil in hand, a P-90 at his back, and tearing through eraks with fang and claw.
If they can cheat, I can cheat. It had been a massive blow to the mind learning that the Cys weren't the advanced pricks everyone had took them for – like being held up at gunpoint only to discover that the gun had been empty. Yet another heaping to add onto the 'Mathers had died for no reason' mountain.
SGA
" John?"
Krissa remained in the corner, in the shadows, in the darkness. John reached out to her, smiling, terrified, heart beating hard enough to shatter on his sternum.
" It's all right, Krissa. You can come out. It's Atlantis. You're safe in Atlantis."
The shadows were thick. All the same, John could see her face, angled in black and gray. She was crying. " I – I can't!"
" Yes you can, Krissa. Just step forward. Diavante can't get you now."
" Yes he can...!"
The shadow crept up the wall like spreading oil, devouring, growing, multiplying. It surrounded John until Krissa was all he could see.
Krissa sniffed. " He's here, John."
John's gaze went up, past Krissa's head. He heard a hiss, and the silhouette doppelganger of his monster self lunged at him with claws spread and mouth gaping.
John bolted up, and caught the rim of the stool just as he felt himself slipping off it. But the save was futile, and both he and the stool went clattering onto the lab floor.
" Crap, Colonel, what the hell!" Rodney's shrill yelp of alarm drilled sharp into John's ears, but McKay's next question was its antithesis as he helped John up with a hand gripping each arm. " You okay?"
John's heart was still doing that fist-like pounding. Once on his feet and showing no signs of another topple, Rodney released him to pick up the stool. John, to hide the shaking in his hands, adjusted his shirt and dusted off his pants. " Yeah, I'm good. Just a dream."
" What about?"
John smoothed out his shirt while looking away to the table. " You had to be there."
Sheppard could feel Rodney's suspicious scrutiny. Returning Rodney's gaze didn't deter it. Rodney grabbed John by the elbow and began to bodily escort him to the door.
" Conking out on a lab table isn't the rest Carson was talking about. Out, now, before master medical warlock gazes into his crystal ball and chews both our butts for your inability to follow simple instructions. And I swear," he stopped inside the door, with John standing outside the door, " no harming your precious."
Glaring, John yanked his elbow from Rodney's grip. " Whatever. But I appreciate it."
" Good, now go take a nap." With that said, the door slid closed.
John smirked. " Yes mommy!" he called.
To which Rodney replied in a high toned voice, " Get bent deary!"
John chuckled as he walked away, but humor wasn't a lasting sentiment when the dream stole back into his mind. With it came cold creeping like tendrils up his back, and he shivered. Worse than that was the remembrance of Krissa's face.
He automatically altered course away from his quarters, veering toward the gate control room. Instinct had proved right when he found Elizabeth talking to one of the techies hunched over a console. Elizabeth saw him on approach, and straightened with hands clasped behind her back.
" Colonel Sheppard," she said with a warm smile. " Last I heard, Rodney dragged you off to the lab."
" Actually, he went, I followed," John said. " Can we talk? In private?"
Weir's smile weakened slightly. " Of course."
They went to the conference room, the doors sliding shut like automatic shades. Rather than take her usual seat, Elizabeth took the first one she came to, and John sat beside her, both turned to face eachother.
" Got a favor to ask."
The corner of Elizabeth's eyes tightened, but the smile stuck. " Depends, of course, but shoot."
" If – when – Beckett clears me, I want to take part in the search for Krissa."
Weir dropped her smile and creased her brow. " But... that would mean going back to Sriot."
John leaned forward with his arms on his knees, and nodded. " Yeah, I know."
" And you're okay with that?"
John shrugged. " Sure, why wouldn't I be?"
" Because you almost died there?" she replied matter-of-factly.
" I almost died a lot of places. Hasn't stopped me yet. Listen, I'm not talking some long term stay the night kind of gig. I'm talking about going back for a little inquiry, making my presence known, which in turn might produce better results. If Krissa's people are hiding her, if she is around on that world, then maybe me being the one looking for her might make her feel more comfortable to come out, or at least send us some kind of word. I mean... I don't know... maybe my helping won't do crap, but then again maybe it will." John looked down at his hands, recalling the dream, and Krissa's face. " She trusted me with her life."
He looked up at Elizabeth and held her gaze. " And at the same time saved and kept trying to save mine. She didn't even know me and right off the bat she helped me and let me help her. Well... actually, she was pretty upset about me volunteering to protect her, but she let me. That's a lot of trust I'm not going to let down without a fight."
Elizabeth sighed, and her body sagged as though draining. " John, we don't even know if she got away..."
Hot irritation prickled on John's skin, and he lifted a rigid finger. " Don't... say that. She had time to get away. She was almost home. Diavante was right behind me."
" But John, no one from Sriot has admitted to seeing her. If they are hiding her, do you really think your presence would make a difference?"
The irritation went from prickling to burning. " Yes, yes I do. Krissa knows me. She doesn't know Lorne, Stackhouse or the rest. I was the one who promised to bring her to Atlantis, so logically I really need to be the one to do so. Look, Elizabeth, I didn't say it was a guarantee, but it feels... right, logical, possible. And I want to do it."
" What about Diavante? What if your presence drags him out?"
Again, John shrugged. " What about Diavante? Whether I'm here or on Sriot, I don't think it'll matter. That freakin' mutant Ancient hasn't reared his ugly misshapen head yet, which could mean dozens of things. If he isn't bothering the teams you've sent through, then he's probably not going to bother me. He wants the sil and Atlantis, not me. Whatever he's up to... I don't know, maybe better to have it out sooner or later. Elizabeth, I need to do this, because this time around I can."
John didn't need to elaborate, Elizabeth understood, John could see it in the way her expression softened.
Mathers. That said it all.
Elizabeth inclined her head. " All right, but only if Beckett clears you."
John smiled, and rose from his chair as the doors turned opened.
" John?" Elizabeth said. John stopped and turned to see Elizabeth still seated.
" What?"
" Just... be prepared. It's been days since you came back, and when the search started. There is a good chance..."
" I know," John cut in, his heart thudding like a wet sack being tossed about. " Probably better than you think."
With that said, he hurried from the conference room. He was clinging to hope, yes, but at the same time kept his back turned on it.
He had to try, even if trying was all he could do.
TBC...
SGA
A/N: Can't complain about trying.
