A/N: And now for what you have all been waiting for: The team as Genii, and more care taking of John.
Ch. 7
The Wilds
Rodney felt like they were walking through a den of blind wraith. Except the wraith would have eaten them by now, not flashed them dirty looks over dirty shoulders. His mind refused to register that they had been passed off as Genii entering Ioth on a man hunt, that the guard on duty had not been one of the ones with previous encounters involving the 'Lanteans and therefore knowing their faces, and that going to the authorities to ask for aid was a choice and not a necessity. According to Caul, unless the 'fugitive' the supposed Genii were after could be considered a danger to the people of Ioth, the Enforcers really didn't care. And to play things safe, Lorne had labeled Sheppard as a danger only to the Genii.
The team's plan was remarkably simple – either they found Sheppard first and brought him home, or the Enforcers did and sent him home. Either way, it was a win/win situation ( as long as on both ends Sheppard came back alive.) Unless the Ioth government got nosy and demanded to know more of the Genii's business with Sheppard. McKay's heart refused to slow down, and every flash of a dark blue Enforcer uniform moving through the crowds made his heart jump. His sense of self preservation was waiting for the moment when the Enforcers came because they had found the Atlanteans out.
Except where Caul was taking them -according to the ex-kidnapper – they wouldn't have to worry about the enforcers.
" Your friend on the inside might keep the authorities spurned into action searching the heart of the city," he had said, " but it takes a practical job extermination threat to get the law poking around on the outskirts."
And that's where Caul was taking them now, keeping at a pace so the Atlanteans would always have him in their sights. Ronon had considered keeping a rope around the little man's neck. Rodney had been quite inclined to agree, but Lorne had said it would look a little to conspicuous. But so far the mousy man was proving true to his word. When he came out of the crowd, he would stop to wait by a building or alley entrance for the rest to catch up. It was no simple task trying to stay together, and seconds after regrouping they would be dispersed by the river of bodies trying to pull them every which way.
The team consisted of Major Lorne, Teyla, Ronon, Rodney, and Lt. Stewart, all dressed in the dull gray Genii uniforms provided to them by Sora, who had kept giving the Atlanteans odd looks on personally delivering the uniforms herself. Along with the uniforms were caps that obscured the teams features – just enough not to be recognized at a glance. It probably would have been more logical to send a whole other team to Ioth, but since the team would be going as Genii, Elizabeth felt that familiar faces would cause Sheppard less panic and retaliation.
Caul took them farther from the heart of the city, where the crowds flowed more freely and jostled less. The team couldn't always keep each other in sight, but they did keep in contact through their radios, and as long as they kept heading in the general direction Caul had gone, they always met back up.
Rodney was panting heavily the next time they gathered, and jolted as though electrocuted on seeing Caul trot up a flight of rickety stairs. McKay wiped sweat off his brow using the cuff of his sleeve.
" Wow, here all ready?'
Caul didn't enter the building, or even knock. He was up on the landing, then trotting back down the steps. " They're gone," he said.
" How do you know?" Rodney asked. " You didn't even knock."
" I didn't need to. There's a 'for rent' sign on the door. I didn't really expect them to be here, but felt it a good starting point to search for your Colonel. Just remember, if you are going to split up, only do it within a single block. Don't turn down any streets unless accompanied and armed. People on the outskirts tend to be more hostile to strangers. Being armed and dressed as soldiers, you shouldn't encounter too many problems, but many tend not to consider the risks, especially if they're drunk."
Lorne twitched his head in a nod. " Right. Could you take us to the place where Sheppard fell into the river?"
" Yes, it's not that far."
So they were off again, moving further into these outskirts where bodies were spaced enough to let a guy swing out an arm without hitting anyone. When they came to the edge of the river that dropped off into water the color of putrid mud, Rodney's stomach clenched, and he was pretty sure his face had gone green. " He fell into that? Good gosh! All we'll need to do to find him is follow the sound of puking."
Debris from wood to what Rodney didn't even want to know churned and writhed in the rapid currents. What looked to be the mutilated and bloody carcass of some animal surfaced, rolled, then sank. Rodney finally had to look away.
" All right, we got an eye full of the river. Can we continue on please?" he said, stuffing his numbing hands into his pocket. It wasn't the river that was making his stomach coil. In that filth, in this cold, and after wasting a day and a half waiting for the damned uniforms, it would be a miracle finding Sheppard alive. Except Sheppard was a man who basically tore all odds against him to shreds, so the real miracle would be them getting him back home alive.
The team started moving away from the river, following Caul.
" I'll take you to where the shore is shallowest so you can start there. I know of a good inn down that way. It won't look like much at first sight, but believe me when I say it's the cleanest inn on the outskirts. I know since I used to work there. They also provide meals that won't make you ill."
Rodney sighed. " Well, as long as we don't end up with lice and salmonella I suppose that's reason enough not to complain." And like Rodney was going to complain about food and shelter with Sheppard stumbling around cold and hungry. Unless he'd come upon some kindly Iothian babe who had taken him in like a wounded puppy. With Sheppard's luck, on this off-worlder hating planet, McKay didn't put it past the man.
Rodney pulled the copied photo of John from his pocket, mentally prepping himself for the bad-ass Genii soldier act he was going to need when the questioning commenced. The picture Rodney held was of Col. Sheppard sitting at the mess table in front of a half-eaten plate of lasagna, dressed in his usual long-sleeved black shirt and BDUs, and with his trade-mark lopsided, lazy grin. The original picture was of the entire team eating lunch. It had been taken by Zelenka who liked to spend his free time working on a digital scrapbook. Nothing but people, no technology, so they could have memories that didn't require security clearance to look at.
Happy-go-lucky, carefree Colonel Sheppard. One would think with all the crap he goes through he would never smile. Although McKay was pretty certain John didn't smile as much now as when Rodney first met him.
People passing gave them wide berth and dangerous yet guarded looks. Rodney was feeling rather confident coming off as a threat, so long as no one decided to test as to whether or not he really was a threat. Rodney searched the faces – and the hair – for the one familiar visage he hoped hadn't been altered by any sort of illness... or physical attack. But one face was like another, dirty, angry, jaded, and fighting back fear.
Rodney hoped he didn't see that on Sheppard as well.
SGA
Three days was always the give or take time it took to reach Village 443, but Maj hoped to cut that time with fewer stops. They needed to get the dark haired man into shelter, where he could be more properly treated.
The town ended where the cobblestones abruptly changed to the slick but compact mud of the wilds road. There were no people beyond the cobblestones, only abandoned buildings sagging and tilting from wood rot and age, with a few completely collapsed save for a frame, a wall, or a floor. The buildings were spaced, not connected, and soon they thinned out to be replaced by the prickly trees with their dark needles, and the bare, sleeping trees that were usually quite lovely when in full bloom in the spring. The freezing winds had stripped the leaves, leaving the branches naked as knobby bones.
The wagon moved smooth over the dirt path with hardly a bump. It was usually the jostling of the uneven city streets that made the going rough. Without the hindrance, they wouldn't have to make frequent stops for the sake of the sick man huddled beneath the mound of blankets. Maj's wagon she had designed herself, then modified over the years until one hardly noticed it was even moving at all, especially when asleep.
Maj continued to mop the brow of the sick man, but her gaze was fixed to the last of the buildings – still standing after more years than even she could count – dwindling away into the distance, the fading remnant of the city. One would think a city to be more ancient at its center. But time does strange things to a world. It was obvious the spread of the city ceased after the battle with the wraith, and turned inward instead of outward. People refused to go beyond the cobblestone streets. Between paved road and the nearest wilderness settlement, it was no-man's land. No enforcers, no habitations, not even an inn or a shop. The strip of wild between the city and the mountains didn't exist until one was traveling through it. Not even those desperate to escape the law hid in the wilds. The wandering brigands made long-term camps as near as possible to a village, and barely stopped when going from one settlement town to the next. Everyone knew that.
There was no trusting to the wilds.
The going was painfully silent except for the thump of the Lyret's six feet, the jingle of reins, and the creak of the wheels. Somewhere in the distance a bird would croak, making Maj's muscles flinch but never enough to get her head to snap up. She new the silence of no-man's land like she knew her wagon. It was a good silence, deep enough to hear the breathing of some beast or man attempting to trail them. Most animals knew better than to tag her wagon. Lyrets as a whole were intimidating beasts, but a black Lyret even a desperately starving predator knew better than to tangle with. Lyrets moved fast in a fight, and black Lyrets didn't stop fighting until either itself or the attacker was dead. Blacks were also bigger, with more muscle, and have been known to crush a rock with one foot.
The unconscious man never stirred, and that worried Maj. Still, she had instructed Gidel not to stop until after darkness came, and she was going to stick by that. When the gray sky faded to deeper blue, then pitch black, Maj tossed the electric torches to Gidel. Her nephew placed them on either side of the seat to illuminate the way ahead. Not that the Lyret needed them – it could see in the dark – but Maj wanted to be able to spot the mile markers that would tell her the distance to village 443.
When they saw it, coming up around the bend in the road, they stopped. Gidel grabbed a flashlight and hopped out of the seat to go tether the Lyret to the marker pole, then went off with rifle slung over his shoulder to gather some fire wood. Maj gathered the extra flashlights around her, illuminating the body of the stranger. She pulled back the blankets and pushed them aside. When the cold air struck, the young man curled himself into a tight, shivering ball.
Maj sighed. " Sorry, young man, but I'm afraid you're going to get more uncomfortable before you get comfortable." Maj then proceeded to remove the man's ragged, stained shirt, which took a bit of coaxing and a lot of maneuvering on her part. The man hissed with pain, emitted small groans, but didn't put up any resistance. When the shirt was finally off, she bundled it up and tossed it into the corner of the wagon. Looking back to the stranger, she paused and blinked.
The skinny body was a mess, like the work of an insane artist. The pale skin made the various shades of bruising so bright it made Maj wince in sympathy. Bruises all over his back, his front, but heaviest and darkest on his left side, which was a dangerous place to procure such bruises being the area where the heart was set. The cuts, abrasions and gashes made Maj nervous. Most were clotted, but a few were oozing off-colored liquid. But the young man was fortunate he had been found by Maj, and during now of all times. On the other side of the wagon kept safe in a large, locked, ornate chest, was the collection of healing medicines and plants she had gathered from her recent off-world drip.
Maj covered the young man back up and waited until Gidel returned with the wood. They made a fire ring in the middle of the road since only a fool would travel at night. When rocks were formed into a ring and the wood pile was lit by Gidel using the tiny laser Maj had obtained on Athos some years ago, she filled a metal kettle full of water and set it in the flames to heat up. As the water warmed, she went to the chest and rummaged through it for the needed plants and powders. She continued her wait by crushing the plants in a clay bowl with a worn pestle. The kettle eventually whistled, and Maj removed it with a cloth. She poured the heated water into the bowl, enough to form a paste, then poured water into an empty bowl. She brought both over to her patient, setting them on the chest-top, then climbed into the wagon. She pulled back the blanket, and taking the heated water and a cloth, began cleaning the wounds all over the young man's body. The man's breathing increased to shallow pants, and he twitched with each application of the hot cloth to the cuts, but didn't have the strength to even moan very loud.
" Easy there," Maj soothed. She had no choice but to press the cloth hard against the wound if she wanted the cleaning to be deep. The more she cleaned, the more the man moved, beginning to writhe, moaning as well as whimpering. Blood began flowing again, which was a good thing since it would help clear dirt from the wounds. It was when she began cleaning what looked to be clay bits out of the wound on his shoulder that he let out a yelp of a cry and tried to rise in order to get away. Maj placed her hand on his uninjured shoulder blade and pushed him back down without effort.
" Shhh, it's all right. I'm almost done, then I'll give you something for the pain." Maj remained quite calm despite the cry having broken her heart. She continued to speak softly to him, squeezing his good shoulder in reassurance, until she finished digging the clotted blood and filth from the last gash across his collarbone. She set the bowl of hot water aside, and picked up the bowl of pulp. She used her fingers to smear the green-brown substance over the wounds, smoothing them out along the edges. When the pulp dried, it would prove far superior to any bandage. It sealed the wounds, protecting them from contamination, as well as absorbing toxins already accumulated in the blood stream. It both cleansed the wounds and kept them clean, but healing was still up to the body.
Healing was going to be the hard part if she couldn't get him coherent enough to get some food in him. He was looking frail because he was starving, which broke Maj's heart even more than the wounds. When she finished applying the the pulp, she pulled the blankets back over him up to his shoulders. The heat of the fever lingered but the cold air had brought it down to be less of a concern for now.
" Gidel," she called, dipping another cloth into the now luke-warm water. " Could you put more water in the kettle and set it by the fire. I need to make the tea."
" Yes aunt Maj."
Maj wrung the cloth until it was only moist and not soaked, then gently began wiping the dirt, grime, and blood caking the man's face. She would have to give the man a shave when they returned home in order to find the rest of the bruising. She kept the cloth light over the bruises on his cheekbone, along his jaw, and his eye. She moved downward to his neck, and her fingers brushed the metal chain of a necklace. She set the cloth aside and pulled the chain until the two metal tags emerged from the blanket. Maj had to lean in close, and picked up one of the flashlights to read what it said. The language was similar to several languages she had learned during her times off world, but much of what was written made no sense to her. Starting at the top, that had to be a name.
" J... Jooo – hon... No, that doesn't sound right. H must be silent. Then it's John. John... Shhhh eeee p ard. Shep-pard. Sheppard. John Sheppard. Huh." She looked at the man's sleep-slackened face. " That your name then, young one? John. John. Strong sounding name. I like it." Maj read the rest that made little sense to her. " Blood type – O negative. Wonder what that's all about?"
The high pitched whistle of the kettle pulled her attention from the tags. She tucked them back under the blanket against the man's chest, then patted his shoulder. " Well, John Sheppard, it's nice to finally have a name to put with that handsome face of yours. You wait here – not that you have much choice in the matter – and I'll give you a tea that should help with your fever, I hope."
The tea was simple to make. A few herbs in a tin cup, allowed a few moments to soak, and in those moments sitting out in the chilled evening air, the water tempered down enough to be swallowed without burning the throat. Maj positioned herself at John's head, and lifted him enough to have him resting against her chest.
" John Sheppard. You need to wake now, boy. Not all the way, just a bit for a drink. It won't be too pleasant going down but it'll help you feel better. Plus you could do with moistening of your insides. You've probably sweated bucket fulls by down." She brought the cup to John's lips and tilted it enough to get drops inside. The young man reacted by choking and arching his back some in discomfort, but Maj had a firm hold on him with her arm around his chest.
" Come on now, John, just a few swallows. Don't fight it or I'll be forced to pry your jaws open, and you wouldn't want that."
Perhaps John had heard, or perhaps he was so thirsty even the bitter powder of the tea didn't stop him from satiating his thirst, because he began gulping down more than a few drops. In only seconds, he had the cup drained. Maj looked at the empty cup in wide-eyed disbelief, which quickly softened into pity. With a sigh, she gently began lowering John back to the wagon floor, pausing long enough to shove a folded blanket beneath his head. She then adjusted the blankets back up around his neck, and brushed the hair away from his forehead.
" You poor thing," she said. " What good deed did you do before the one I saw that got you into this mess?"
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
John was making the trip less uneventful than it usually turned out to be. The fever was a fighter, forcing Maj to go for desperate measures that involved not only keeping the young man uncovered, but wiping him down with a wet cloth that made him shiver violently. When the fever declined, she would cover him back up. When it rose, she would uncover him. She managed get water into him, but not food. Even a simple, watered-down broth ended up being expelled from his angry stomach within minutes. Maj did what she could for the poor man, while cursing the ones who had put him in this state.
The road became less smooth on entering the mountains. It wound around through man-made passes that enclosed them in sheer walls of striated and jagged rock. The going was a lot of ups and downs, through small, narrow canyons cut by the Angk river that was so clean one could drink straight from it without needing to purify it. They passed through forests made ghostly pale from the bleached winter moss clinging to tree-trunks, rocks, fallen logs, and the forest floor. They skirted the edge of canyons where the river churned up frothy white rapids beating against jagged rocks far below.
By early noon on the third day and their final leg of the journey, Gidel slowed the Lyret when the road turned and the valley entrance emerged into sight. It was a man-made tunnel cutting through a lesser mountain. Gidel fished through the pockets of his coat until he produced a metallic card. He pulled the wagon up to the gate of thick metal grating blocking the way into the tunnel. Hopping out, he went up to the metal box to the side, slipped the card into the slot, waited until the light changed from blue to green, pulled it out and climbed back into the wagon. The metal grating lifted away with a clank, groan and whine. Gidel snapped the reins and the Lyret trotted into the dusky lit tunnel.
The lights buzzed and flickered overhead, and a few were completely out. The tunnel lights weren't exactly on a daily upkeep. Although someone must have recently replaced the filament bulbs. Last time they'd traveled through en route to the city, the tunnel was nearly pitch black except for one or two lights.
The tunnel was monotonously long, damp, and carrying a faintly metallic scent in the air. The walls glistened as though covered in a fine sheen of sweat, much like the face of the poor young man huddled in the back of her wagon. At the end of the tunnel was another gate and key box. Gidel repeated the process with the keycard, and the grate opened with a clunk and groan.
Maj huffed out a sharp breath. " Well, hope we got all we needed. I may have applied for our next card early but the blasted thing still won't get here for five weeks."
Gidel just grunted his annoyance. No one could come or go as they pleased through the tunnel leading to the city without a key card. The valley where Village 443 was situated was closed in on all sides by high, sheer-walled mountains and canyons. The only reason the village existed was thanks to a few braves souls (Maj's ancestors included) who had found a way in by going the way of the river. Except for the tunnel and the river, there really was no other way out or in unless one possessed exceptional climbing or boating skills. Unfortunately for 443, there was a band of brigands who did possess exceptional boating skills. But 443 had grown accustomed to their ways and knew how to handle them.
The wagon exited the tunnel to a view of the entire valley stretching before them, buried under needled trees. Far across the way were the Iaret canyons where the Iarets nested, and to the right which was also the north, were the old ruins said to have once belonged to the Ancestors. Village 443 was hidden by the tall, dark green needled trees somewhere in the center of the valley. Gidel turned the wagon to follow the angling path that ran back and forth across the mountainside until turning into the woods toward the village. They would reach the village by dark, which for once Maj was thankful for. 443 tended to be nosy about the arrival of an off-world traveler such as herself. They would be even more nosy seeing what she had in the back of her wagon. Maj had lived in 443 the majority of her life, and most of the people she didn't trust worth a lick. Folk became hostile and hot-headed when it came to new comers, and Maj wasn't in the mood to put up with it.
When twilight eased across the sky, Maj covered John's face with the blanket, leaving a gap enough for him to breathe. When darkness came, Maj saw the pin-prick of lights through the trees marking the village. Then the trees dispersed, opening up into a clearing of muddy streets and two-story houses of sanded logs and pitch filling the gaps between the chinks. Scattered street lamps cast pale circles of light on the wide streets, and electric lamps hooked to trestles cast their glow on the painted doors. Maj kept one hand on the mound of blankets covering her new charge, feeling for the slightest stir so she could prevent future movement. She looked up at the glowing squares that were the second story windows. Suspicious, pale faces peered out when her wagon trundled by, then vanished either to the side or when the curtains were drawn.
Maj's house was at the very edge of the village just where the forest began and the path leading to the Iaret Canyon, and they were almost there. Suddenly, the beam of an electric torch flashed across the ground and along the wall of a barn. A shadow-veiled figure looking large and hunched wearing a thick coat approached, and moved to walk along side the wagon. The man's hood was down, and his stringy auburn hair had grown an inch past his shoulders since Maj last saw him. His auburn beard was thicker as well, hiding most of his square, rugged features. The man swung his torch back and forth creating patterns of light in the darkness.
" Maj, my dear," he said casually. " Welcome back."
Maj rolled her eyes. " Thank you, Jorsek." She simpered. " Hoping I brought you a little something? You're too old for a treat, Jorsek, and you never appreciated the ones I brought when you were a boy, so your business had best be about greeting and only greeting."
Jorsek's lips curled in a grin. " What's beneath the blankets, old woman."
" None of your concern, young man. Now let us be. You know who we are, so get back to your watch."
Jorsek said nothing for a moment as he strolled alongside the wagon. Then, quick as a striking beast, he lunged to the side and yanked back the blankets. Both his shaggy eyebrows lifted to his hairline.
" What's this then?" He looked up at Maj. " Since when did you start trading for human flesh? Slave market on some rock having a sale?"
Maj curled her lips over her teeth and snatched the blankets back over John's head. " He's no one to concern yourself with." Maj thought fast. " He's my son."
Jorsek's bushy brow lowered. " I thought your Fiel died?"
" Not Fiel. This one's named John. He was from a marriage after my Hilom died. Took place off world during that stint when I wanted to try living else where. Remember that? That two years I was gone? It was short lived after the boy came into being and that fool husband of mine took off with him. Been running from world to world looking for him. I won't bore you with the details, but I found him, half-starved and barely alive, poor child. So don't get any ideas about treating him poorly. He's the only child I've got left."
It hurt like a succession of physical blows to spin that tale. She had no qualms about lying to that meat head Jorsek, but it was no pleasant reminder that the truth of the matter was that she had no more children. Her daughter had vanished on her own accord out of bitterness, and her son Fiel had died two years ago.
Then there was John's own mother. It didn't matter that what she said was a lie to save the man's life, it didn't sit right claiming another's child as her own. She sent a silent apology to the woman who was John's real mother.
Jorsek stared at Maj while keeping up with the wagon, trying to fathom if she was playing at something, and what that something was. Jorsek tended to come across as a numb-skull, but he had a clever streak he knew when and how to use. If he suspected something, then Maj was going to have to be careful, maybe not let John out of the house. The problem with that was, now that Jorsek knew of John, he wouldn't hesitate to spread the word. People would stay back for the time John remained ill, but once that passed then they were going to be persistent about wanting to meet him.
443 had its decent folk, but since the capital had been thrusting citizens out into the wild settlements, there were fewer decent and more of the unsavory kind. Maj felt old protective instincts start boiling to the surface. Jorsek would definitely show no courtesy. Then there was that harlot hag Mris. The girl had no respect for herself, and tended to throw herself at anyone willing to participate in a night of physical pleasures. And she was hard to shake off. Even Gidel – who could ignore a bug trying to burrow into his ear – had to growl at the girl to get her to leave. Then she would go all teary eyed and whine about how Gidel was 'mean to her'. Which in turn got many of the local young men quite riled up.
Never to violence, though. Only to cursing. It was common knowledge that Gidel was not a man to pick a fight with. Her nephew's thick body alone was testament to that.
" Fine," Jorsek said after a moment. " Just remember to bring him to the council should he survive."
Maj snorted. " No need. He's no plans to stay. I'm just getting him back on his feet is all. He'll be out of the village's hair when my next keycard comes."
" They'll still want to meet him," Jorsek said as though giving Maj a warning. Then he wandered off.
" Meat head," Maj murmured.
When they got to Maj's dwelling, Gidel pulled up directly before the door and hopped out. He needed no instruction from Maj. After she climbed from the wagon and unlocked her door to go in first and click on the lights, Gidel gathered John's thin body still wrapped in the blankets and carried him up the stairs across from the door to the guest-room at the far left end of the hall. Maj leading the way.
Maj opened the door and sucked in a sharp breath when the still, frigid air brushed her face. She flipped the knob for the light and the filament bulb buzzed and flickered to life. The bed was across the room beneath the curtained window where her collection of crystal chimes hung. Normally she used this room to create the trinkets she used for trading. On the right was her work table cluttered with bits of crystals, metal, rocks, tanned animals hides, feathers, wood and her tools. On the left was a small, old fashioned wood stove, squat and square with a pipe climbing up along the wall into the ceiling. Her electric heating unit wasn't what it once was, and the guest room was usually the last to get warmth, sometimes not getting warmth at all.
Maj pulled back the blankets of the bed then went to the stove to toss in a few logs. Gidel set John on the bed still wrapped in the blankets. Maj borrowed Gidel's small laser to light the wood that flared into a small blaze. It wouldn't be long until the tiny room was comfortably warm.
Maj caught the sound of claws clacking on the polished wood of the hallway floor. She glanced up from the stove briefly to see a two foot tall, two-legged lizard with winged forearms running toward her with its long narrow snout gaping to emit a high, croaking purr. Maj smiled.
" Why Ris. Come to say hello or are you looking for another treat?" Maj said. She crouched to give the little green/brown mini-iaret a pat on the head. The odd thing about these creatures and their larger cousins was that unlike most reptilian creatures, iaret skin was covered by a fine, soft fuzz that made them pleasant to pet. But their value lay more in their use at keeping vermin out of the garden, food cellars, and cupboards. Ris gave a high-pitched croak at the welcome, then lost all interest and moved over to the bed to sniff at its occupant.
Maj dusted wood bits from her hand as she straightened. " Thank you Gidel. I can handle things from here."
Gidel looked between Maj and John, then settled his skeptical gaze on Maj. " You sure? I mean, not to question you or anything aunt Maj, 'cause I know you mean it when you say you can handle things... But you know nothing about this man. And he's ill, he might react out of delirium."
Maj smiled warmly at her nephew. Even before his mother – Maj's sister – died of illness, he had always been protective of his favorite (and only) aunt. Even more so now that she was the only family he had left. Maj stepped toward him and placed her hand on his thick upper arm.
" I'll be fine, Gidel, I promise. You know me. I've handled far bigger and more vicious than this one here. If I need you, I'll ring you up on the line. Doubt the boy'll be able to move too quick with what's raging in his body."
Gidel smiled, not a convinced relax smile, but one of relenting. That was how much he trusted his aunt, and Maj had no intentions of breaking that trust.
Gidel turned and left the small room to head to his own home not far from Maj's, just on the other side of the barn where the Lyret would be put up. When Gidel was out of the room, Maj went into her own room adjacent to this one, and dragged her chair of woven branches covered by violet cushions into the room and positioned it by the bed. She dropped her stiff, aching body into the chair and groaned out a breath of bliss.
" Oh now that's sweet," she sighed. She snapped her fingers at Ris when the creature tried to climb onto the bed. The creature's long face whipped around to look at her. He gave up his endeavor of scaling the bed and trotted over to Maj where he leaped into her lap. His downy, fuzzed skin still retained some cold from being outside. Ris was free to come and go as he pleased through a swinging panel at the bottom of the back door. Ris circled until he finally curled into Maj's lap. Maj stroked the iaret along the back and watched her charge sleep. The tension lines of pain had smoothed out of John's face, giving him a younger appearance, thanks to the tea that was finally taking affect and easing his agony.
" So what do you think of my find, Ris?" she asked. The iaret didn't stir. Maj chuckled. " Right, too soon to tell. But – add it up to me being a sentimental old woman – I got a good feeling about this one, and not just because he saved the life of that boy. He's got a story to him, and he deserves the chance to tell it, good or bad."
Maj chuckled again, sadly, and with less sincerity. It didn't feel all that long ago when she'd been by another bed side, waiting, watching, hoping, and having her hopes smashed into fragments. First her husband... Then Fiel.
" Don't you die on me stranger," Maj said. " You've got a story to tell."
SGA
A/N: I would like to point out (so no one else does) that the passage of time between what the team are up to and what John and Maj are up to may not coincide with each other. For example I may say that two days has passed for the team, then when we move back to the village, three days may have passed for John. Basically, all the interesting stuff happening between the two isn't always going to happen on the same day. I just wanted you all to know this because some readers have been very picky about such things in the past.
Also for clarification:
Lyrets – six legged reptile like creatures used as beasts of burden.
Iaret – Dinosaur like creature covered in a fine fuzz with wings attached to their forearms (will appear later in the story).
Mini-iaret – smaller cousin of the iaret. Ris is a mini-iaret.
Just so there's no confusion.
