A/N: that's right, a twofer.

Ch. 2

What Weapon Against the Wraith?

Swinging to the rhythm of a new world order... Lt. Colonel John Sheppard couldn't, for the life of him, figure out how that song got stuck in his head. He neither new the name of it let alone who the hell sang it. He could, however, lay the blame on one Private McDermott. The supposedly clean cut and by the book marine had a dark side after all; vampire novels and what could be classified as both heavy metal and Gothic; all dark, disturbing, and depressing.

Although Sheppard knew he shouldn't be the one to throw stones. Johnny Cash had his plethora of dark, down-hearted songs. Though it was easier to fall asleep listening to the sorrow of Cash than to the anger of some thrash metal band. He'd heard the song during a routine escort mission taking a group of biologists to the mainland. McDermott had been one of three marines to accompany them, and since they were heading farther into land making the trip longer than usual, he got to pick the next song to listen to.

That had been a week ago, and for some inexplicable reason the song had decided to pop into John's head, repeating like a broken record.

Body's like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums...

John thrummed his fingertips on the side of his P-90 and shifted trying to position his now aching shoulder blades into a more comfortable spot that didn't have them pressing so much into the ornate carved reliefs of the high back chair. Sheppard had to whole heartedly agree with McKay; whoever had made these chairs was an idiot.

" We are not asking for a shipment of such weapons, simply the means with which to make them," said the tall man with the slightly bulging gut and poorly concealed receding hairline. He was probably only older than John by a year or two, but looked a hell of a lot older with his paunchy, sagging face and slightly pockmarked skin. He was dressed in a formal jacket of dark brown with matching slacks, and an off white shirt beneath that. He was sitting across the unnecessarily long table that looked to be made out of obsidian stone fading toward gray and spider-webbed by cracks. The little conference was clustered at the center of this table surrounded by forty overly-decorated, high-back chairs with dark red padded seats. On the tall man's side sat another man, just as tall but thin and sharp wearing a beige long coat trimmed with gold embroidery. Another man, sitting on the speaker's left, was more Col. Caldwell's age, medium height and thickly built, wearing a dark blue uniform that looked almost black in the weak light of the chamber. Sitting beside him was a woman, blond, with her hair pulled back in a tight pony-tale, wearing a gray dress jacket and skirt, taking notes on a machine very reminiscent of a type writer – a very old typewriter, like what they might have used in the 1930s.

Did they even have typewriters in the 1930s. Didn't really matter, the thing just looked old design wise.

Sitting across from the speaker were the Atlanteans. Dr. Weir was beside John, with McKay on her other side. Next to John was Lorne and Teyla. Next to McKay another marine and Ronon.

" Second Magistrate Larum," said Weir. " I'm sorry, it's just not possible. We are willing to provide military aid against the wraith if needed, but we cannot share weapons technology. It's one of our strictest policies. Medicine and advanced farming techniques are our offer but that's all. Weapons trade is forbidden, even the plans to construct weaponry..."

The acoustics of the chamber were good. Elizabeth's voice was level and controlled but came out a practical thunderclap that gave it a somewhat imposing edge. So unlike the table, the chamber's hangar-like size had a useful purpose. Its floors were a dark burnt umber with veins of a clear rock like yellow tinted quartz, same with the pillars that looked as though they'd sprouted straight out of the floor and were chiseled into shape. On John's left the wall was painted in a mural depicting a battle between humans and what John assumed were wraith. The hair was right, but not even Teyla or Ronon had yet to encounter a wraith with dark green skin. Seemed earth wasn't the only culture that assumed all aliens were green.

On John's right were ten foot tall, paned-glass windows flanked by gauzy blood red curtains, two pair of which billowed and rippled from the gusts of crisp autumn air creeping through the narrow gap of the partially opened panes. John's gaze drifted to the windows when Larum and his people brought their heads in close for a private conversation. The city outside was a setting out of Dickens, with tiled roofed buildings and cloud-columns of smoke from industrial complexes. The streets hidden within the forest of buildings was more future-gone-wrong; dirty, crowded, with carts pulled by six-legged fuzzy lizard things and little electric cars with the largest no bigger than a VW Bug. The weapons of this world consisted of rifles and hand-guns slightly larger but with less of an impact than a 9-mil (Enforcer Reik, the man in the blue uniform, had been quite beside himself to let Sheppard test a few and see what they could do. Pride didn't last long when John showed Reik what a P-90 was capable of.)

It wasn't an advanced society in earth terms, but fairly advanced in Pegasus galaxy terms. Power came from hydroelectric dams, so they had electricity, plus other conveniences such as running water, and entertainment in the form of radio shows. Still nothing akin to TV and movies, though.

Beyond the city rising jagged, ice-blue, cloud shrouded and white-capped were the surrounding mountains that marked the boundary of the city. Beyond the mountains lay the frontier, and the settlements established to reclaim what had been lost long ago when the Ancients had left. Or so Larum had told them with a lot of grinning and a lot more pride, as though booting people out into no-man's land had been quite an accomplishment. It wouldn't have bothered Sheppard if the whole settling thing was voluntary, but according to Larum, people had stopped volunteering long ago, so a forced selection was made when the city started becoming too crowded.

" We are not asking for anything of severity..."

John whipped his head back around at Larum's voice. The magistrate had his hands clasped on the table top, and though his expression could almost be called serene, his eyes were making John feel a little chilled.

" Something along the lines of the smaller, hand-held projectiles would provide far superior protection for those surviving the wilds than even our most top grade, long-barreled projectiles. Weapons, no matter how small, would prove more valuable to us than medicine and farming methods."

John had to swallow in order to stifle his desired snort of derision. Strolling through the streets had made John mentally check off all his recent booster shots, and he was pretty sure McKay was going to demand more of said shots the moment they got home. Just yesterday they'd helped some kid snag back a piece of food from a canine-like creature that had made a homeless, flea-bitten, mange infected earth dog look sanitary. And the kid hadn't exactly been smelling of roses either.

Elizabeth let out a short breath and stalled for time to think by staring at her hands. " Second Magistrate, We have shared our knowledge – only our knowledge – in the past in hopes of aiding others in the pursuit of a weapon against the wraith. Those seemingly small attempts have not only ended problematically for us, but for those societies as well..."

Though giving the Genii a little insight into slapping together a nuclear bomb had come in handy, Sheppard had to admit. But the Iothians didn't need to hear about that one, and only one, positive. Not with all the other attempts ending up as spectacular failures. The Hoffan situation was still a thorn digging into Beckett's side. The Scottish doc was worse than John when it came to taking blame. Although the Hoffan incident really wasn't Beckett's fault. John couldn't quite say the same for his own deeds, no matter the constant assurances when the deeds were brought up.

" And as I said before, it is our strictest policy to refrain from providing weaponry to other worlds."

And like you even need the weapons anyway, Sheppard wanted to add. None of the other Pegasus galaxy worlds had been so obnoxiously persistent about badgering guns from the Atlanteans. There'd been the occasional request, but most were content enough in having a technically advanced and yet friendly bunch of aliens backing them up when conflict involved the wraith and only the wraith.

What made the Iothians persistence more obnoxious was the fact that (barring those suffering the wild lands) they didn't need the weaponry. Wraith hadn't set foot or dart on the planet since the battle depicted on the mural. Even when the wraith had been stocking their meat lockers for their attack on Atlantis, they had obviously by-passed the planet that had been right smack in the wraiths' path of travel.

It was funky, to say the least. Had it not been for the loud testament to poverty in the streets below, it would have been easy to assume this another ascended Ancient guarded planet. So either the Iothians truly were ignorant as to the reason for their good fortune, or were holding out in hopes of snagging a few choice projectile blue-prints from the earthlings.

Past experience had everyone, McKay especially, going for the latter.

Except that in the three days time they'd been here, Sheppard found himself leaning toward the former. McKay had discovered no massive energy readings indicative of some kind of weapon or shielding – unless it was a weapon buried too deep for McKay to read anything – and had this planet gone the Hoff route and had managed to develop some sort of vaccine against the wraith, then they would have simply been wiped out, not avoided.

Personally, John didn't care whether the Iothians were being honest in their request for weapons in exchange that the Atlanteans be given free rein to find the source of the Ioth good fortune. They were being duped, John knew it with a bone-deep certainty that kept prodding at him to convince Elizabeth to just call it quits, pack up, and high-tail it off this Dickens novel gone wrong. But since it was Elizabeth and McKay against John, and with a threat having yet to rear it's ugly head, he saw no point to it, though he had managed to casually slip his two-cents worth in during casual conversation back at the inn.

" Then I'm afraid we have no choice," Elizabeth was saying in that tone of finality that John was always subconsciously tuned in to, developed out of two years of being forced to sit through McKay's scientific diatribe that didn't end until Elizabeth ended it. John jerked his head as though he'd fallen asleep. He wasn't exactly abashed that he'd mentally drifted off since the conversation had become nothing more than a back and forth barrage of 'gimme weapons' and 'no' - he just hoped no one had taken notice.

Dr. Weir stood, and the rest of the Atlanteans mirrored her. She lifted one shoulder in a non-apologetic shrug. " Our answer is no, and will remain no."

Larum inclined his head in acceptance. " So be it then." But his eyes were oozing severity. " I certainly hope your policy is worth what you are sacrificing for it."

Probably is seeing as how we don't even know what we're sacrificing. The Iothians were prime examples of those who could talk the talk, but not walk the walk. Without the physical proof of the Ioth's good fortune before them all, the magistrate's words had as much irritating impact as a flicked toothpick poorly aimed. One cannot be sorry for what one never had to begin with.

The meeting was adjourned. The magistrate thumped a black rock on a stone gavel twice, and the over-sized metal doors molded in a pictorial mess of reliefs moaned open. Seri, the short, bald, slender but round faced aid appointed to the 'Lanteans shuffled in. The man dressed smartly but inexpensively in a gray-brown suit and an off-white shirt beneath. He bowed to the magistrate, then to the 'Lanteans, and swept his hand toward the door in a beckons for them to step out.

Everyone rose as one and moved as one to the door following Seri out into the arched ceiling cavern of a corridor. It was like walking down an elongated Vatican style chapel. The doors moaned back closed behind them so the magistrate could have a private conference with his people.

" I take it things did not go well," Seri said with a part sheepish, part apologetic smile. John liked Seri. The man was timid, but not shy about being realistic. He never spoke out right ill concerning the government of his world, but neither did he try to defend it.

" The wraith are more practical in their requests," Rodney muttered. " No offense, but the last thing your world needs is more powerful weapons. You need medicine. Hell, you need hand soap!"

Seri glanced over his shoulder and scrunched his brow. " I'm not sure what this 'hand soap' you speak of is, but I agree with you on the medicines. It's just that... with the settlers establishing villages farther and farther from the city, reports have been coming in concerning violent deaths by wild animals and wandering rogue bands stealing equipment. The magistrates have been focusing on ways to make the wilds less intimidating. Thus, their insistence for finding better weaponry rather than potential vaccines for many of the diseases running rampant."

The cathedral corridor ended at a flight of wide stairs opening into the cavernous entrance chamber with a cream brown and dark brown checkered floor. Seri took them through more metals doors and out onto the cobblestone streets walled in by connected buildings broken by darkened alleys every four buildings down. The streets were packed with bodies that brought the wagons and electric cars to a crawl. Seri kept the 'Lanteans close to the walls of the government house where the foul smelling bodies of the masses were less crushing.

" Will there be a trip to the gate, or do you wish to return to the inn!" Seri shouted above the rushing wave of noise.

" The gate," Elizabeth called back. " We're done here."

Seri glanced a little forlornly over his shoulder. " I am sorry to hear that. I had hoped you would be able to convince Second Magistrate to at least accept medical assistance."

They didn't travel far when they came to a stable four structures away from the meeting house. Animal musk and feces made the air hard to breathe, even standing outside. Seri went in unperturbed by the stench. Ten minutes later he returned riding shotgun at the front of a large wagon pulled by one of the larger six-legged lizards, this one black with an underbelly of gray. The wagon itself wasn't so much a wagon as a simple multi-person carriage with rows of benches in the bed. The 'Lanteans climbed in, and the wagon trundle off as soon as they were settled. An electric car would have been faster and less bone jarring, but the most the little cars could fit were four – five if the passengers were skinny enough and didn't mind squeezing together.

The going was slow in the pact streets, but picked up when they left the city's center behind them and entered the housing district. The wagon clattered down various streets until it entered the traveling district. They passed through an arched gate into a kind of courtyard where the gate was situated on a well trimmed lawn. Even now the gate was activated, rippling like the surface of a swimming pool, with people stepping out of the event horizon. There was no official schedule when it came to arrivals, but there was one for departures. Surrounding the little court where the gate sat was a gray-bricked building that was like customs. No one could move beyond the entrance to the courtyard without a pass, and no one could leave the planet without a pass.

The wagon turned as soon as it passed the entrance to stop beside the entrance to the building itself. Everyone piled out, digging through pockets or packs for their passes.

" I am to assume you are through concerning any future business on our world?" Seri asked as he took the 'Lanteans to the armed and blue-uniformed man standing beside the DHD.

" I'm afraid so," Elizabeth said.

Seri inclined his head. " I am sorry to hear that, again. As protocol dictates, I will need to take your passes before you enter the gate."

The gate shut down. The guard by the DHD pulled out something like a pocket watch that brought to John's mind images of a train conductor. The man checked the watch, then cupped his hand around his mouth.

" Departure in two minutes. Departure in two minutes."

Seri hurried up to the guard, spoke to him until the guard nodded, then turned to the 'Lanteans and waved them forward. John went first to dial to the alpha sight, keeping the guard in his peripheral vision and watching for a quirked eyebrow or lifted brow of interest. The guard, for the most part, had his gaze wandering lazily over the courtyard, and breathed out a sigh heavy on the woebegone boredom. The coordinates locked, and the gate rushed to life in a fist of liquid. The guard shifted to stand beside the gate as Elizabeth led the way through, handing him her pass, then the guard handing the pass to Seri. John hung back, intending to be last, because he was always last. Had to be – or at least in his personal book of military and protective procedures he had to be.

When Lorne next stepped into the rippling event horizon, John stepped away from the DHD and handed off his pass.

" I am truly sorry that no headway could be met," Seri said, taking the pass from the guard.

John shrugged indifferently. " Hey, we try, but some people don't want to give. And I'm sorry we couldn't make headway either. A lot of nice interplanetary folk would have loved the secret to wraith repellent."

Seri grimaced. " So we've been told. Time and time again. I personally would like to know the reason we're left untouched, but that's more because I'm a curious man by nature. Should I ever discover the secret, I just may let it..." he grinned, and winked, " slip, on this world or that. But I doubt the secret's going to be revealed in my life time. It hadn't when my grandfather was young, and he had actually been seeking the secret, not simply wondering about it."

John clasped Seri on the shoulder. " Hey, it's the thought that counts."

Seri shrugged sheepishly. " Farewell, Col. Sheppard. I doubt we will meet again, what with our policies and all."

Ioth wasn't big on visitors. Hence the passports needed in order to obtain entry into the city. There was a taboo, according to Seri, concerning visitors, and a fear that those visitors might become inclined to stay on the wraith untouched world. The general fear was that having a world so jam-packed with fresh food would cause the wraith to discard whatever fear or distaste they harbored for the planet and start culling again. There was actually a list of 'advice' posted all over the inside of customs on how travelers shoulder proceed – in groups, well armed, with a destination in mind, and no ideas about staying overtime. Once arriving, the visitor or visitors had to state the number of days or weeks they wished to stay. Attempting to stay a month was digging your own grave. John and company had gotten the hint quite nicely after nearly getting soaked in spittle from passer-bys. And if it wasn't germ-ridden saliva, then it was dirty looks that kept John tense as a bow string every second spent on this world.

John nodded to Seri. " Policies have their purpose, even if we don't get 'em. See ya around, Seri. Thanks for your help." He then stepped into the event horizon, wishing – once again – he was still in one piece to whoop through this intergalactic roller coaster.

They didn't stay at the alpha site for long – only a grand total of ten minutes. The gate to Atlantis was established and the secondary ride through the cosmos brought them home. The moment John's booted feet touched the smooth metal floor of Atlantis, every muscle in his body took on the actions of an uncoiling spring, tension going out of him along with a contented sigh. Col. Caldwell trotted down the steps, stone faced but expectant.

" Dr. Weir, welcome back."

Elizabeth gave the Colonel a weary smile as she headed up toward the debriefing room. " I can honestly say it's great to be back. A relief, actually."

John dismissed Lorne, the marines, and the rest of his team, then started following Caldwell and Weir, with Rodney following him.

" Things didn't go too well, I take it?" Caldwell asked.

" They didn't go at all," Elizabeth replied. The panels of the debriefing room slid open, and the four of them entered, Elizabeth taking a seat at her usual spot. " I told the Iothians no means no, and that was it. I'm not wasting any more of my time with these people, Colonel, I'm sorry."

John dropped himself down at his own seat, Rodney taking the seat beside him.

" Something tells me we wouldn't have found the answer to the Ioth riddle anyways," John said.

Caldwell, also in his usual spot, swiveled his chair around to look at Sheppard. " And what was that 'something' telling you this?" The man's expression was neutral, but his tone was a little on the patronizing side. John just grinned at him. A lop-sided smile was such an effective weapon in returning the irritation he always got served.

" My gut."

Rodney jerked his thumb in the vague direction of John's stomach. " And I'd have to agree with his gut. The fact that we found not even a hiccup of an energy signature on that world should have been a big indicator that we were in for a long torture session involving a lot of bartering and no results. And I know I said that if a device of some kind was involved then it could be buried too deep for a clear reading, but even then I should have gotten something. A flicker, a burp, some sort of energy output. So I'm very inclined to say that the Iothians aren't hiding some massive, kick-ass weapon under their feet. So that leaves the other alternative."

Elizabeth nodded. " Speaking of which..." She tapped her radio. " Carson, it's Dr. Weir. We're back, and I need you in the briefing room to tell me if you found anything on your end."

The radio waves weren't on broad-band frequency at the moment, so John didn't hear the Scot's reply, but guessed it to be along the lines of " aye, lass, on my way."

" Anything else to report?" Caldwell asked.

Rodney shifted in discomfort. " Just that it's going to take a week to get the smell out of my clothes."

" At least the food wasn't that bad," John countered.

" Yes, thanks to fact that we had a guide who knew all the right restaurants to eat at. Left on our own we'd probably be dead by diphtheria, or killing eachother over who got to the bathroom first."

John just smiled. But Rodney was right, they had been lucky. Seri had been considerate, polite, above the taboos, where as every other Iothian they'd encountered had either acted out-right hostile or masked their disfavor behind innuendos. That enforcer guy, Constable Reik, had seemed quite ready to pick a fight. He'd made Caldwell more of a pleasure to be around.

Then there had been that group trailing them the second day around. Five men in all, not dressed in rags but not really wearing the latest, fresh out of the clothes store brand of clothing either. The way the Ioth capital streets were crowded, there was no way Sheppard should have been able to spot the same group of faces twice, let alone ten times. Those men had been shadowing the 'Lanteans, Sheppard was sure of it. But now that they were home, with no intentions of ever returning to Ioth, John no longer cared.

Carson arrived soon after Elizabeth had radioed him in. He nodded a hello, then plopped himself into the seat beside Sheppard.

" I can tell ya now," he said, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded. " Whatever that planet has goin' for it that's keepin' the wraith at bay, it isn't in the local population's blood stream."

During the three day visit, one of John's marines who was certified in providing first aid and medical care had managed to snag a few blood samples from the population. Samples were brought to Atlantis by another marine going back for 'required supplies'. In return, Beckett sent the marine back carrying the needed medication for those who'd contributed their blood in hopes of finding a remedy for their ailments. It would have been nice to have done the same for all the people of that world, but there had been only so much time, and so much medication to hand out.

" Perhaps there was something but it vanished over time," Carson continued. " Or like the protein on Hoff, only so many people have something anti-wraith related. I only know I wasn't able to find it."

Elizabeth took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. " All right. It's not technological and it's not biological. Unless a plague hits and the Iothians get desperate enough to trade the secret for medication, I doubt we'll ever know the answer."

" I doubt they even know for themselves," John mumbled.

" What?" Caldwell said. John just shook his head in reply. Sheppard was firm in the belief that the Iothians didn't know squat concerning what was protecting their world. And had the 'Lanteans been the ones to find out, he doubted the Iothians would have been quick to share the blue-prints, biology, or whatever the hell it was behind keeping the wraith from setting foot on that planet.

At the extreme moment, John didn't care. He was just glad to be back home, off of that cesspool. He'd seen his share of societies squabbling in the dirt because their governments never gave a damn about their own people, and it never lessened how much it sickened him. Plus John was tired, bone deep tired, from his constant state of instinctual readiness. Now that his muscles were unknotted, every joint ached and his head was starting to throb.

Elizabeth laid her hand out flat, palm down, on the table and rose. " I consider the matter with the Iothians closed unless something else pops up. For now, I believe a little down time is in order, so I'm suspending team gate travel for two days."

John smiled. " Won't argue with a little down time." Especially if it could involve potential camping on the mainland. John had discovered the perfect area of beach sporting massive waves. John had yet to test out his old surf board, the one a cousin had managed to dig out from storage at John's request via a letter from 'an undisclosed location'. John had just gotten the board when the Daedalus had arrived, along with a letter containing a single sentence from his cousin Ethan.

'This location wouldn't happen to be Hawaii, would it?' Oh, if only Ethan knew.

Elizabeth smiled back. " Good, because it's mandatory. Dismissed."

John rose quick with the intent of making a fast getaway when something snagged his sleeve. Looking back, he found that something to be Carson's hand. The Scottish doc was giving him a withering look.

" I believe there's still a little matter concerning the post mission exam."

John winced. " I was... uh... Just heading to the infirmary now, doc."

Carson rose, keeping his fingers curled on John's sleeve. " Like bloody hell ya were lad. Come on. You can be the first."

John gave Carson a pathetic smirk. " 'Cause I'm your favorite patient, right doc?"

Rodney, rising, threw his head back. " Ha! I believe the good doctor would prefer working on a sheep rather than you."

" At least once the Colonel leaves, he doesn't come back," Carson countered. John flashed Rodney a triumphant grin. Rodney glowered, and mumbled under his breath something about hoping John got the biggest, baddest needle of the bunch.

sssssssssssssssss

John set himself gingerly down on the edge of the bed, and bent in the same manner to untie his boots. When the laces were loosened, he kicked them off, then dropped back onto his bed, scooting around until his head was on his pillow and his long legs were stretched out on the end. He exhaled a long breath, deflating his lungs like a balloon, entwined his fingers on top of his chest, and closed his eyes.

Of all the things to be grateful for when it came to the comforts of home, the one that topped the list was a bed that fit his length. Apparently, nobody on Ioth surpassed five foot. They skirted the edges of reaching six foot, but both John and Ronon had stood out a little extra because of their height.

John arched his back until the vertebrae popped. He and Earth may not have been all that tight, but he'd never been more glad to be born on that planet than he was now. Even more glad that he'd come into existence in a non-third world country. And it was nice to realize this without having to lose it. As the adage went; you don't know what you have until it's gone, and one had to count themselves lucky to be able to realize this without losing anything. John found it both laughable and pathetically sad that a world free of the wraith was even more of a crap-hole planet than those worlds plagued by the wraith.

John would like to say that perhaps a little taste of what the wraith could do might slap Ioth's government into focusing on bettering itself, but that would be kind of defeating the purpose. Plus, as John liked to say, they weren't all bad people. The magistrates might deserve a culling or two, but not people like Seri.

Massive government foibles aside, Ioth had just plain gave John the creeps. He couldn't pinpoint the exact reason why, whether it was something specific or had been a general feeling from the emotional bombardment of seeing so much poverty. Except seeing a society in such a state of decay and meeting officials who didn't seem to give a damn tended to generate more feelings of anger than unease, so John couldn't say it was that, or that alone. Ioth was a society that would fall apart from the inside out. There would come some kind of revolt or upheaval, a lone voice calling to the masses to follow him or her into making their world a better place. Then he or she would be lifted up onto the shoulders of those masses, made a leader when the old leaders were dealt with, and either he or she would lead the people into a utopia, or do the Hitler thing and go all power hungry, killing those who they thought needed to be killed, and letting only the ones they wanted to live, live.

Unless everyone decided to just ditch the city and go set up shop in the wilds. But potential Hitlers wasn't what had been sending a constant river of chills down John's spine.

Thugs, muggers, and the potential Hitlers hyping up hatred toward off-worlders? John didn't discount them. They'd been the reason he'd stayed so tense the whole time they were on that planet.

Without an explanation to what was keeping the wraith away, it gave the planet a feel of... wrongness. That had to be it. Something on that planet was so bad it got even the wraith to turn up their noses, and it sure as hell wasn't the smell. The subconscious, automatic, protective parts of the brain didn't like the inexplicable, the mysterious. It made the mind go haywire, brought out the hysterical, so to avoid it, the brain scrounged for any explanation it could, sometimes going for the ludicrous, but most of the time settling on the simplest. It all came down to self preservation, keeping one's sanity intact no matter the cost, and the cost was usually self delusion that could very well lead to self destruction when one blatantly ignored the dangers just because it didn't fit in with reason.

Kind of an oxymoron state of existence, but one that could easily be avoided through keeping an open mind and excepting an explanation as only an explanation, not as fact.

On a few rare occasions, ignorance really could be bliss. John didn't need an explanation as to why Ioth was being spared. More than that, he didn't want an explanation. The mystery of it created an annoying itch, but an itch John would live with if the truth was more than his human reasoning brain could handle. People like McKay, even Elizabeth to some extant, might try to discover some other means to scratch the itch further down the road. As for John, he craved adventure, and liked it more when there was a little mystery to it, but he wasn't profoundly curious at heart, not like McKay or Elizabeth.

Some secrets and mysteries were better left buried.

With that in mind, John shifted, settling more comfortably on his mattress, and pushed away thoughts of Ioth.

They could keep their secrets.

SGA

Two Weeks Later

" Teyla, my dear!" The old man Kitek called as he headed to the 'gate at the same time Col. Sheppard stepped out. Kitek was dressed in his farming clothes – frayed brown overalls and a dirt-stained shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. The man had removed his wide brimmed hat, giving the sun free reign to beat down on a head nearly bald say for a few wisps of white hair. The rest of his hair, it seemed, had gone into making his snow-white beard that extended to his slightly paunched belly.

Teyla smiled at her old friend, and when the two were near enough, they both bowed to touch foreheads. Kitek and his people were the oldest allies of the Athosians, as well as the most favored trading partners. Kitek had known Teyla's father, and was like an uncle to Teyla. She tried to visit as often as she could on a weekly basis, normally on a Sunday since missions were never scheduled on Sundays. It didn't matter the galaxy or the planet; Sunday had been deemed a day of rest since the dawn of time, and that's the way the Atlantean-earthlings were going to keep it.

When the Athosian form of greeting was complete, Kitek moved over to Sheppard and threw his thick arms around the taller man. John was in no shape or form a weakling, but Kitek had brawn that could have easily crushed the Colonel's ribs if he was so inclined. The gentle Kitek would never even consider doing such a thing, but tended to get a little overzealous in his greetings that left a few light bruises on John's flanks.

For the most part, Kitek settled for crushing the air out of John's lungs.

" Colonel Sheppard!" he bellowed. " So glad you came as well."

John grunted when the air rushed from him, and offered Kitek a pained smile when the old man released him.

" Hey, Kitek," he gasped, rubbing his side. " I'd say long time no see, but I just saw you last week."

Kitek gave John a hardy slap on the back that knocked more air from him. There would be a lovely mark on his spine to go along with the ones on his sides.

" A week is still a long time, my tall friend. Come along. The wife has lunch prepared if you are hungry." Kitek started leading the way down the gentle slope of the grassy hill toward the rather large faming village clustered in the center of the massive valley made a patchwork of various shades of green from the fields. It reminded John of the village from The Village, except that the monsters (i.e. wraith) were real. Kitek's people knew how to handle culls, though. In the town square within the meeting hall were several trap doors that led to underground tunnels. These tunnels led to a cave beneath the hill large enough to fit everyone and then some. A certain secret knock was practiced so that stragglers could be admitted through the massive metal doors. Every town on this world had such a cave, which was why this planet still had a population after the last cull.

The town seemed to have even more of a population today, some of which were dressed in a different fashion than Kitek and his people.

" It is a week of trade," Kitek explained over the noise as they maneuvered through the bodies. " The crops came in good, giving us plenty to barter with. Plenty more of the Cles fruit if you are interested Teyla."

Teyla smiled. " I was planning on mentioning that very fruit to you. It has become quite the favorite with both Athosians and Atlanteans."

Cles was what passed for apples in this galaxy, only a lot more sweeter, and when combined with the Athosian equivalent of a grape made one hell of a fruit salad.

Kitek took them to a modest, beige-walled two story structure with three windows on the second floor and two on the first. The front entrance led straight into the kitchen, where Kitek's wife Aleia was bustling about the table setting out bowls and plates. She was a plump woman with iron gray hair tied back in a braid. She wore a sky blue dress and a collection of necklaces known to be good luck charms. Busy at the stove was her daughter, Mir, also a little plump, with honey blond hair and wearing a light green dress. Clinging to that dress was a little boy no older than two wearing overalls just like his grandfather. He had one hand clutching the skirt, and the other utilized in holding what looked to be a red stick that he was contentedly sucking on, smearing sticky red juice all over his face and hands. At the entrance of the newcomers, the boy removed the sucker from his mouth to point and squeal in delight.

Greetings were passed around, and Teyla and John were invited to sit as Aleia spooned food onto the plates. As always, she gave John a little extra. She never said it, but Kitek always said it for her, but she had this unwavering belief that John could do with putting a little more meat on his bones. The men of this world tended to be more heavily built in the upper body due to so much farm work and having to handle animals that could put oxen to shame. Just as earth people during the seventeen hundreds believed being chubby was a sign of good health (and fortune), the people of Nelak saw a heavily muscled upper body – like with Ronon, which was why he never got the extra food when he visited – as a sign of good health. So it didn't matter how much John had tried to prove the belief otherwise by aiding in a little heavy lifting, Aleia was firm about fretting over John being too 'thin'.

John didn't worry about it. He had taken down plenty of guys twice his size and weight, half the time before the fight was even given a real chance to begin. Ronon had once commented – after such a fight – that John had an advantage when it came to his more slender build. Underestimation for one thing – the big guy doesn't see the little guy as a threat, so goes in to take the little guy down without a formal plan of battle. For another thing, there was speed. John still wasn't able to outrun Ronon, but he had quick reflexes, was limber, and had good balance.

In other words, size didn't matter. As Ronon had once put it; strength means nothing if you don't know how to use it. And Sheppard knew how to use his.

As they ate, they talked, with Kitek and Teyla holding most of the conversation. The little boy tottered around from chair to chair on chubby, unsteady legs. When he came to John, he practically fell onto John's leg to curl his chubby, sticky fingers into a tiny fist. He chatted away in baby gibberish, then held up his candy for John to take. John took it, the child dropped his hand, lifted it again to take the candy back, then tottered off to repeat the process with Teyla.

John tried to eat everything on his plate, but Aleia kept dishing it on, giving him seconds, then thirds. He politely passed on the thirds and escaped before his stomach could explode by insisting he needed to step outside for some fresh air. He wandered through the flow of bodies to stands and wagons trading produce, hand-made jewels, pots and pans, cloth, and what looked to be Ancient devices being traded as novelty decorations. John considered bringing in McKay to see if any looked worth trading chocolate for. A few lit up when John passed, and he quickly made himself scarce before anyone could make the connection.

At the next cart selling a combination of items, including Ancient, John's arm was jostled and he felt a small pinch at his wrist. He lifted his wrist looking for some kind of bug-bite like mark. Then the world tilted and flipped around him. His stomach flipped with it, and his legs shook from a sudden onslaught of lethargy.

" What the hell?" he put his hand to his head and turned, which made the world both spin and blur. He could feel his heart racing, and his breathing increased to keep up.

" Sir, are you all right? Sir?"

" I think he's going to be ill."

" Did he hit his head?"

" Someone call a healer!"

Strong fingers wrapped around his other arm.

" Teyla?" he slurred. He turned his head, the world went wild, but he was able to make out that the person gripping his arm wasn't Teyla. They weren't even female.

" It's all right folks, it's all right," came a distinctly male voice. " He's just a little touched in the head, needs his medication. Come on, old friend, this way." His arm was tugged, and the pressure from the fingers increased. He felt himself being physically escorted through the masses as his mind screamed at him to pull away. Except he couldn't since his brain seemed to have detached from his body, forcing his body to run on automatic. He stumbled to be half dragged from the town, then up the hill where another man took him by his other arm. They came to the gate, and a third man whose face Sheppard couldn't focus on dialed. The gate rushed to life, the motion making John's stomach twist and the acid churn.

" Did you leave the note?" someone nervously asked.

" Right where they could find it," someone else answered.

" Good."

Something was draped across Sheppard's shoulder, and something else was thrust partway down his face – flopping like the loose brim of a wide hat - obscuring his vision of everything except for the ground. The two men hauled John through the gate, and the moment they stepped out the other side, John's stomach rebelled and he heaved and choked until vomit came spraying out.

" Hey! What...?"

" Too much to drink, sorry."

John lifted his head on his suddenly weak neck. The world wobbled, but what he managed to make of his surroundings made him furrow his brow. He'd been here before, he knew he had.

" All right then, passes seem to be in order. Welcome back to Ioth," drawled the apathetic voice.

John's heart took a dive into his stomach.

Oh son of a... He never got a chance to finish the thought when he promptly passed out.

SGA

A/N: The song stuck in John's head at the beginning of this chapter is a real song, not mine. Though it's been played plenty of times over the radio, I never have been able to catch the name of it or who sings it. So if you know, please tell me.

And poor John. He wasn't even doing anything this time.