A/N: I haven't been feeling too well lately, so I was only able to go over this chapter once. I apologize for any spelling errors and other inconsistencies you may come across. I'll probably fix this chapter up at a later date.

Ch. 11

Life in Town

It hadn't been easy procuring a wagon and Lyret for a trip to the outskirts of the city. McKay had to request to have a bunch of these small, round metal things called nickels melted down into chips to use as payment for the transportation. It hadn't been a quick trip, taking the better part of the day following the paved road that stopped like an invisible dead end when the pavement changed to pact dirt marked up in the faint remnants of wheel ruts.

Ronon hadn't been too happy about coming to this place, but had kept it to himself. They'd done plenty of searching over the past couple of days within the city, and with no results to show for it, now had become as appropriate a time as any to expand their search grid. Mostly just to keep Caldwell from breathing down their necks. He was starting to check in more often than Ronon thought necessary. According to McKay, this was just the beginning of Caldwell's innuendo fest leading toward the big finale of calling off the search. And that had actually gave Ronon a twinge of anxiety.

The anxiety had been about to escalate to anger when the trip began, riding in the back of the clacking, jerking, heaving wagon with a smaller back right wheel. Yet, now that Ronon was here...

The wagon remained on the paved part of the road as though a dead end really did exist, and the rather scrawny brown Lyret kept snorting and pawing restlessly. Sound barely had a presence except for bird calls and some distant moan that couldn't possibly come from a bird. The dirt road was walled in by trees where decaying houses hid as though ashamed of their own existence. Plenty of shelter where Sheppard could hide, with no city dwellers to cause him grief. Wandering the woods by keeping to the buildings, Ronon found signs of old roads, once paved, now half-buried by soil and weeds save for patches.

No footprints, though, except for those made by animals.

McKay was peering into windows, and calling out Sheppard's name through cracks and barrier-less doorways. He wasn't going to risk entering any, and Ronon didn't blame him. A sneeze could have knocked these structures down. Ronon, however, felt a little risk was in order if they were going to get anywhere. Holding to survival instincts, which he knew John had plenty of, Ronon entered those buildings nearest the city and that looked the most structurally sound. What he found he wasn't quite sure what to make of.

The beam of his flashlight cut through the twilight gloom over warped and rotted floorboards, plant debris, and bones. Animals bones, and more disconcerting – human bones; old, brittle, and well-gnawed human bones identified by the human skulls. Ronon crouched before the scatter bits of skeleton and picked up a femur. He set down his flashlight to grip the thing in both hands and snap it in two as easily as he would a twig.

Floorboards groaned behind Ronon. The runner didn't turn around. No need to.

" Ronon?" Teyla said.

Ronon tossed the femur halves away. " None of the bones I've found could be Sheppard's. Too old. Way too old."

The floorboards groaned again when Teyla moved to crouch beside Ronon. She reached out and picked up a rib, turning it over, studying it with discomfort. Her expression was more troubled than disgusted.

" You've been acting... strange," he said. " Quiet. Sheppard?"

She set the bone down gently as though with respect. " Yes... and no. I have been sensing something odd about this planet."

Ronon shook his head making his hair wag. " And everyone says I state the obvious," he murmured.

Teyla gave him an exasperated look coupled with a sharp sigh. " That is not what I mean. It is difficult to explain except to say that I have been sensing something."

Ronon's muscles tightened, especially at his back, and his heart slammed. " Wraith?"

Teyla picked up another bone, this one from a small lizard-like creature. " I do not know. What I am feeling is different than what I usually feel when the wraith are around. Different, but similar. I wish I could clarify, but it is like trying to describe the taste of salt." She tossed the bone away. " I never felt comfortable here since the first day we came. I had simply attributed it for a general dislike of Ioth's treatment toward others, especially its own people. But now that I have been here for longer, I found that this feeling has grown."

Teyla tilted her head back as though struck by a sudden thought. " I can explain it in this way. There have been times when emotions have come upon me – fear, mostly. Again I dismissed it thinking this feeling to be my own; fear of being found out by the government, fear for Colonel Sheppard... Yet, this fear, it comes and it goes, and is never strong, always the same. It's almost as if... it's not my own. As though the fears belong to another but have been displaced on me. Fear, and urgency separate from the urgency to find John. When I close my eyes at night, I feel cold though my body is warm, and the darkness is not absolute."

Teyla's eyes lost focus as she stared into some distant place within her mind, pulling herself deeper into it in order to bring it to the surface. " My dreams have consisted of darkened corridors that breathe. I am always searching for Sheppard, and yet I know he is not in those corridors, so I do not know why I search there. And at the same time, I know something is searching for me... Something that is not Sheppard."

She blinked, and lowered her head to look down. " It makes no sense to me." She picked up a twig and began drawing shapes in the dust like a forlorn child. " None of it does, what I am sensing. But it disturbs me. It has become something intrusive, something that violates my mind, but for now isn't strong enough for me not to repel it. It comes and it goes, all of it." Finally, she looked directly at the Satedan. " There is something on this world that shouldn't be here."

Ronon didn't react, he was too well practiced at keeping on masks. But as Sheppard might put it, he was feeling a little 'freaked'. When it came to Teyla's wraith-sensing capabilities, there was no second guessing her. She didn't posses various sensory perceptions for various lifeforms, she sensed wraith and only wraith.

No one had ever considered, or needed to – Teyla included – that she had the ability to sense other things.

Ronon needed to ask. " Does it frighten you?"

She continued to look at him, holding his gaze. Her eyes gave the answer before her mouth did.

" Yes."

Ronon moved back upright in one smooth, effortless motion, and Teyla mirrored him a second after.

" All the more reason to find Sheppard and get off this rock." They headed out of the dead house with its dead bodies. Neither Ronon nor Teyla voiced the question of why there were unburied bones in abandoned buildings. Ronon didn't really care to know, and he was certain Teyla just plain didn't want to know – as long as none of the bones belonged to Sheppard.

SGA

Maj placed the painted glass cups with their painted glass saucers on the wooden tray, surrounding the painted glass kettle, and carried the whole arrangement out into her living room to set on the stand beside her couch where five of the eight members of the committee sat. Lorek, and next to him the thick bodied and brawny armed Iena. The brown haired-going on gray woman was village born and bred, giving Maj a little more tolerance for her. Beside Iena was Kyore, a heavy-set man a combination of fat and muscle. He had thick, corded arms beneath the long sleeves of his brown jacket, and a round gut that hung a little over his straining leather belt with the large silver buckle. A thick black beard covered most of his face, but his dark hair swept over his balding pate barely covered his scalp. Next to him (much to Maj's irritation) was Gindela. The short, bony woman was around John's years, with a round face and a small, sharp nose. She had her auburn hair done up in two brains wrapped around the back of her head in a bun. Furthering Maj's irritation, the woman was wearing her city-bought red dress made of shimmery material, with a broad hoop skirt and black lace. Gindela may have been village born, but might as well have been city raised. Her parents used to be the official representatives for this village, which always came with perks, such as payment. Gindela's family had amassed quite a fortune that Gindela showed no restraint in indulging in.

Last – and most definitely least – was old Freg, the eldest of the village being seventy-seven. He was of medium height, lean, stopped, with a prickly white beard and wisps of white hair that seemed to flow at the brush of the tiniest breeze. His gnarled, spotted hands were clasped on the Lyret head carved handle of a dark wooden cane. His grey-blue eyes were narrowed as he stared at the object of the committee's reason for being here.

John sat before them all in one of Maj's kitchen chairs. Face congenial, body rigid, and hands clasping his knees. The young man was back in his original pants – cleaned and mended – as well as his boots. His shirt required a little more time to patch up - more holes to knit and stains to scrub out – so John had been forced to settle for one of Maj's husband's old shirts. The collar was wide, the cuffs frayed, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing when looked at in the right light. It may have been embarrassing, uncomfortable, but the loose shirt that did little in hiding the fact that John had a rather bony frame gave him the illusion of being vulnerable, and appearing vulnerable gave people the impression of being harmless. And thus, appearing harmless would put him in better favor with the committee.

John was hating it. Maj knew good and well his tension wasn't about being presented in front of the committee. She had the feeling John didn't give a Lyret's backside about them.

Maj did give a Lyret's backside, especially concerning Gindela and old Freg. Gindela had a small smirk on her face, enjoying what she was seeing. Freg's eyes flickered with flames of immediate dislike, and had probably already passed his judgment of John as being a debased young upstart who needed a good beating into submission – although Freg tended to think that about all people under the age of fifty.

Lorek took one of the tea cups, but the others declined. " Thank you Maj," he said in that tone of combination polite gratitude and polite dismissal. Maj gave him a tight smile and backed up toward the stairs to lean against the balustrade, rubbing her presence and stubborn resolve not to leave her charge alone in these people's faces.

Lorek ignored it and took a sip of tea. " John, is it?" he began.

John twitched his head in a small nod. " Yep."

" Ya have a last name to go with the first, John?" Freg asked next.

" Sheppard."

Both Maj and John felt that the more they could stick with certain truths, the easier it would be to maintain the cover story.

" Your father's name, I presume?" Lorek said before taking another sip.

" You'd presume correct."

Maj had warned John not to be too cheeky, but hadn't really stressed the point. It was only natural that a child of Maj would have a bit of a mouth on him. Lorek was about to take another sip when he paused and turned blatantly suspicious eyes toward Maj. " I do not recall if you said you had been married to this man's father."

Maj stiffened at the implication, and she glared at Lorek. " Do you honestly take me for a loose woman, Lorek? Of course I was married. But the man had no intentions of wanting to live on Ioth, or letting our son grow up here. I've told you before, no one likes us, Lorek. So he took John and left."

Lorek pursed his lips and returned his gaze to John. " What is your profession on your world, John?"

" Military, soldier. Glorified enforcer. I'm head of military operations... uh, in the city we occupy."

Maj beamed, mostly in pretend pride for her pretend son, but also at the quirked eyebrow looks of the committee.

" That is... quite a profession," Lorek said rather nervously.

" It's also why he's no intentions of staying," Maj jumped in. " He needs to return to his world and city as soon as he can."

Lorek nodded. " I see. Tell me, John, how was Maj able to find you after all these years? And how did she know you were her long lost son?"

John lifted a shoulder in a shrug, causing the collar to slip down it a little, which he abruptly snatched back into place. " Word of mouth. She told me she'd been asking around forever, looking for my dad – uh, Tim Sheppard. But since my dad's dead she didn't really find him, just me. So, basically, by name. Sheppard's kind of a rare last name on any world."

" And why had you not gone to seek your mother out?" Kyore asked.

" My dad told me she was dead. I think he really, really didn't want me ending up on this world."

" And you just took your mother's word," Freg said, " that she was your mother?"

" Dad kept some pictures of her."

" Maj said you had been injured," Gindela interjected, big-eyed and overdoing it on her look of concern. " How did this happen?"

John proceeded to start rubbing the back of his neck. " It's, uh, kind of complicated. These guys started roughing up this kid, see. I went to stop them and they started pounding me into the dirt instead. They would have killed me if mom hadn't shown up. Supposedly someone saw where I'd gone and pointed her in the right direction. It was on another world at the time – diplomatic mission – and mom didn't know who to take me to, so she just brought me here. I was separated from my people at the time. Diplomacy didn't go off too well, some folks upset with the government got restless, and all hell broke lose. I got lost, was trying to find my way back... just one big crap-load of misery after that until mom was pointed my way."

Maj's grinned broadened. John was good, his tone casual, and his words fluent without the stumbling block of trying to think up what else could be added to the tale. Tonight, if his stomach could handle it, she was making him sweet-rolls.

" Maj said your injuries were quite severe," Freg said, thrumming his fingers on the handle of his cane. " Let's see them."

John's congenial mask slipped a fraction to betray his sudden discomfort. He looked to Maj, who could only shrug helplessly. She hadn't expected this. Not that it was anything to worry over, but Maj had hoped there to be as little unease as possible for John in this.

John moved his hands hesitantly to his shirt. Maj caught Gindela's eyes light up, and it tied Maj's stomach in knots of disgust.

" Stand up, boy!" Freg snapped.

John did so, reluctantly, and even more reluctantly raised the shirt up to his armpits.

" Bandages, boy," Freg said.

John had to lower the shirt and reach under it to undo the bandaging he let drop to the floor. He looked away from the committee when he raised the shirt back up, staring at some spot on the floor to his right. Freg rose, his motions almost fluid for an old man, and tapped the floor with his cane as he moved over to John, circling him, stepping in closer to inspect the scabbed cuts and slowly fading but still visible bruises. The bruise taking up most of one side of John's ribcage was still the darkest, but going yellow in spots.

Kyore rose from his seat and took two steps forward to stand before John. Kyore was a half a head taller than John, and so bulky he made John look positively emaciated.

" A bit scrawny for a soldier," Kyore said. The hairs on the back of Maj's neck bristled.

" He was ill," she said, voice low and flat. " And he's still recovering. In fact he's regaining his strength quite quickly. Don't let appearances fool you, Kyore. My son is quite capable of handling himself very well in a fight, no matter the size of his opponent."

Lorek set his tea-cup back on the tray so he could join the other men in perusing John like a piece of meat. Then Gindela rose, and swayed up to John to place her hand on his shoulder. " I think he looks quite strong," she said, moving her hand down to his bicep. " He only needs a bit more flesh to cover his bones and color to his skin, then he would be perfect."

Maj was ready to pull the little hussy away, but Iena beat her to it, grabbing the girl's arm and hauling her back to the couch. Maj looked back at John. The young man's eyes had darkened dangerously, his breathing increased, and the muscles of his tightly clenched jaw twitched. And he was shaking. It was imperceptible enough for none of the committee to spot it, but Maj had sharper eyes conditioned from years of noticing broken leaves and blades of grass created by passing hoof-prints of prey and foot prints of strangers. She saw his trembling in his unsteady hands, exhales that made his chest stutter, and the twitchy movement in the skin of his flanks created by the twitching of muscles beneath. When Freg moved in close enough for his breath to brush John's skin, the twitching became more pronounced.

Maj stepped forward to intercede with this torment, right at the same moment Freg got it in his head to jab John's bruised ribs – hard – with the handle of his cane. John released hold of his shirt to grab his side and double over with a short-lived cry of pain.

" That hurt, boy?" Freg demanded. John staggered away from the chair, and Freg followed.

Maj's irritation blossomed into burning rage. " Freg!" she snarled. She stepped between John and Freg while reaching out behind her to grab John's sleeve at the shoulder and stop him from stumbling. " Of course it hurt him you brainless old bag!"

" Freg," Iena admonished. " That had been uncalled for. You only needed to look at the man to see he is injured."

Freg straightened – not much against his hunched-back - and sniffed. " Had to make sure they weren't superficial."

" They're not," Maj growled. " You had your questions, you had your look, so now it's time for me to ask you all to leave."

The committee just stood there as though considering this. It was Iena who got up and headed for the door. " She's right," she said, pausing to take her coat from the hook by the entrance. " I personally believe we know what we need to. No reason to muddle around."

Maj could have hugged Iena. The others followed her lead without question, even Freg and Gindela who were slower about it. They shuffled single-file out the door with murmured good-bys. Lorek lingered behind with his hand on the door and his head turned to look at Maj.

" You keep him in line, Maj. Familiarize him with our laws. He might be a guest here but he's still subject to the same punishments should he step out of line."

Maj rolled her eyes. " I know that, Lorek. I've already talked to him about it. So go already. I've got things to do and you're holding me up."

Lorek hovered, contemplating what more to say. Coming up with nil, he finally left shutting the door behind him. Maj exhaled in relief.

" Took them blasted long enough," she muttered, and turned to John, placing both her hands on both his arms. He was no longer doubled up, just a little hunched about the shoulders, with his hand pressed against his side and his breathing heavy. Maj ducked her head enough to catch John's gaze.

" You all right, John?"

He swallowed, then nodded. But when he spoke, his voice was faint. " Yeah... I will be." He chuckled weakly. " Who'd a thought that old guy could pack a punch like that."

Maj directed John back to the chair and had him sit. She knelt beside him, lifting his shirt and carefully pressing along his wounded side. " Does it still hurt?"

" A little. Kind of throbbing now. I think the old man hit directly on a break or something."

" Well," Maj said, continuing to press in a way that didn't cause John pain, " nothing feels misaligned or rebroken. I just think your side's still tender. I'll just rebind it." She lowered John's shirt, but didn't move. " John, I am so sorry for this. I thought they would ask you questions, not..."

John smirked. " Look me over like a bad side of beef?"

Maj furrowed her brow at the odd word 'beef', but shook her head in a silent 'never mind'. " Humiliate you. I know you'd rather I didn't point this out, but I noticed you were shaking. Whether it was getting your blood to boil or scaring the the sanity out of you is your business, I'm just sorry it got that far."

John shook his head. " It's not your fault."

Maj gave him a melancholy smile. " Oh, but it is. That old codger Freg had it in for me the day I was born. Had it in for my mother as well." Maj laughed. " and you know why?"

" Off-worlder prejudice?"

" No. My family has always been better than his family at hunting. His family may have the fancy weapons, but my family has the skill."

" Still doesn't make it your fault." John looked at his hands moving back and forth on his thighs as though he were wiping his palms. " I'll admit that I was getting a little freaked, and a lot pissed. It's hard to keep your mouth shut in situations like that, when all you want to do is knock someone flat on their ass but you can't. I did that once – knocked out a few of this guy's teeth for having me stripped butt-naked for purposes of humiliation. Lots and lots of people staring. Then the guy kind of started getting a little friendly, I got a lot angry, smacked him down, and got beat to a nice bloody pulp for it."

Maj's heart lurched. " Mind if I ask what brought about that bit of cruelty?"

John sat back and ran his fingers through his hair. " Nothing. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. They mistook me for someone else."

Maj's heart lurched again, and she wondered which scars on him had come about from that experience. Her immediate desire was to give him some sort of consolation. Instead she asked, " Did he pay for what he did?"

" I think so," he replied. " A friend told me he'd been arrested for what he did, but that's all I know."

Maj placed her hand on John's back for a small pat. " Better than nothing, I suppose." Not really, not in her book. She was distracted from John's story when she felt the minor tremors of his body beneath her hand. It was possible that he was cold. More likely that he'd been far more 'freaked' than he let on. Stowing away the pains and the hurts didn't ensure that they were forgotten. Control was the key to moving on with life, leaving the pains and hurts behind. However, the right trigger presented in the right manner could yank it all back with enough force to shake that control. In John's current condition, his control could have easily cracked. The man had adept resilience. At a price, though. Weariness was made manifest in his sagging shoulders and even paler face.

Maj rose, and took John's arm in both her hands to help him rise.

" Come on," she said. " Into the kitchen so I can patch you up and get some food in you. I also want you to have a quick nap before we leave."

John pushed himself from the seat and leaned against Maj to steady himself. " Where are we going?"

Maj tugged his arm to get him moving into the kitchen. " To Ruln's supply shop. Seems I'm in need of a new ax."

SGA

John felt better. The memory of the old man's sour breath puffing against his skin still made his flesh crawl, but the nap had refreshed him and the incident of a few hours ago he was able to push to the back of his mind. Maj let him wear the coat he'd taken the first time he went outside and felt comfortably cocooned within it. Back in his more weather resistant BDUs and boots, the only part of him unlucky to suffer the cold was his face. But that was all. The collar of the coat was snug enough to be airtight without choking him.

He and Maj joined up with Gidel who lived just on the other side of the barn. Together the three of them walked down the center of the wide dirt road running between the identical log houses, branching off left and right every three cabins down. The village was fascinating in an odd sort of way, still upholding John's impression of some kind of summer camp. He saw more telephone poles, and streetlights – they had streetlights. No electric cars, though. Just wagons or saddled Lyret's. The people out and about in the biting weather gave them fleeting looks. Not fleeting enough for John to miss the apprehension, and one or two flashes of hostility. All of which John had the distinct impression was being aimed at him. That was the problem with tight-knit communities – the stranger stood out like a red boil on a pretty face.

The social centers of the town – stores, meeting-hall, committee house – were all clustered within the heart of the village. John would have dismissed them for more mass-produced cabins if it hadn't been for the signs above the doors or on the display windows. They reached the village's center without John fully realizing it until Gidel detached himself from their measly group to head into the feed and tack shop. Maj kept going, and John kept following, giving people friendly smiles and getting sour expressions in return.

Oh, such a lovely, friendly little town. Very Laura Ingles after the exorcism. He wished McKay were here. He would have loved to have heard the physicist's opinion of this place delivered in sarcastic diatribes. The villagers probably would have strung him up by his thumbs within the hour, but it would have been entertaining while it had lasted.

" So," John began conversationally. " Is everyone always so welcoming or is it just lil' ole' me?"

The corner of Maj's mouth curled into a smirk. " I believe it is you, John. I haven't seen this kind of a response for years."

" Should I be worried?"

" Not if you stick with me and try not to make eye contact."

The 'hardware store', simply named Ruln's Supplies, was one building down from the town-hall, and only a single story structure. John and Maj veered off the streets and entered the comfortably warm, and very large interior with its shelves and walls and barrels of tools. Farming, repair, carving, skinning, and even weapons from rifles lined up in rows on racks and knives laid out in glass display cases. As Maj preoccupied herself with looking over the various axes hanging from walls or gathered in a large barrel, John wandered the maze of shelving. He studied the alien tools, picking a few up then setting them down. Screw-drivers and hammers similar to what could be found on earth, and tools he couldn't even fathom a purpose for. On one wall hung sickles, scythes, saws and other sharp objects like something that would be wielded by goblins.

John meandered until he found himself within sight of who he guessed to be Ruln. He was a tall, lean man with a black beard and stringy black hair that stopped an inch above his shoulders. He was behind the counter, sorting various sized nails into the right slots of a compartmental box. He looked up the moment John came into his line of sight, and his look of bored indifference morphed into something hard-set and unpleasant.

" You going to buy something?" The man had a voice like gravel. John flinched at the sound.

" Uh... No. I'm here with someone else..."

Ruln returned his attention to his sorting. " Then get out."

" But I'm waiting..."

" Wait by the door. This isn't a house. Either buy something or get out."

John shoved back the anger trying to beat his nerves flat. He gave the man a patient smile, then headed back out into the frosty air where he leaned with his back against the wall by the door. He stuck his hands into his pockets and cross one foot over the other, casual and yet at the same time tense as a high-strung cat. People passing by gave him snippet looks; a flash of the white of their eyes then back to the way ahead. A woman entering the store moved short of running to get passed John, keeping her eyes ahead.

" Guess I won't be making any friends any time soon," he muttered. He hunched his shoulders and buried his face deeper into his collar with the hopes of being less conspicuous.

" You're new here."

John flinched at the unfamiliar voice. He turned his head left to a girl that appeared to be barely into her twenties. She had raven dark hair spilling in waves down to the middle of her back, large sky-blue eyes, and an oval face. Her features were sharp, but in a pretty way rather than severe. She wore a long azure skirt and knit violet sweater thick as to look a little too big on her. Instead of a coat, she had a violet and black shawl wrapped around her slim shoulders.

Her eyes reflected shy, but her smile contradicted that.

John straightened. " Am I that obvious or do I just have one of those faces?"

The girl shrugged and pulled the shawl tighter. " Face, actually. You live here long enough, you get them all memorized, so the new ones end up jumping out at you. My name is Mris. What's yours?"

" John."

Mris nodded. " I've heard of you. Maj's son. Well, John, since I'm certain no one else has done it yet, I officially welcome you to Village 443."

John grinned. " It's about time someone said that. Thanks. Although I'm not planning on taking up residence here. I've got my own world I have to get back to."

Mris' coy smile seemed to become even more coy if that were possible. " That's too bad. Life gets interesting for a time when there's new blood." Mris moved in closer, which seemed an even more massive contradiction to her timid eyes. McKay could spout his Kirk mantras all he wanted. John would admit to being a sucker for a pretty face, but half the beauty lay in the personality. He admired women who were independent, strong, capable, and smart – like Teyla and Dr. Weir. He was drawn to, and enjoyed being around, women who were kind and gentle-hearted – like Chaya and Teer. But stick him with a woman either a little too eager or a hell of a lot more incorrigible than him, and he got cautious. John Sheppard didn't take advantage of women, especially the kind trying to take advantage of him, the kind his mom had always warned him about who were always willing to settle for less just to get what they want.

Or worse; the kind who knew exactly what they wanted, and would do anything to get it.

Mris looked up at John with her large, shy eyes that weren't quite so shy close up. Of the two kinds of women mama Sheppard had warned John about, John was starting to suspect this girl was less the former and more the latter. Then again, John might have been jumping to conclusions. He was on high alert, which tended to make him look at life a little less positively. Mris could just be incredibly outgoing.

And putting on the shy act becaaaauuuse... it's fun? She's messing with me? John was aware he was starting to over analyze, but something about this girl seemed off, and it was making him uncomfortable.

" There's always a little commotion," she said. " People keeping watch, waiting for the new blood to try something. That's what they were like when my family got booted here." She shrugged. " We got used to it though, and they got used to us. Given time, a couple of months, and they get used to you too. But seeing as how you said you weren't sticking around, I suppose you won't have that to look forward to. So where are you from?"

John eased himself back against the wall. Never a good idea to let the one making you nervous see you acting nervous. " A planet you probably never heard of. Unless you've been off world."

Mris chuckled caustically. " What'd you think I am, stupid? And get contaminated?"

" You don't seem to have any problems standing next to me?"

" You bathed, right? At least you don't smell like you haven't washed in a while. I just prefer to play it safe and keep my feet on this planet. What do you do on your world?"

" I'm a soldier."

Mris' timidness was immediately traded in for absolute incredulity as she looked him up and down. " You're not a soldier."

John narrowed his eyes. " And you would know because...?"

" You're a little on the skinny side to be much of a soldier. Soldiers are bigger. Have to be to fight and handle weapons. You'd be dead the moment someone smashed your in the face."

On the outside, John's smile remained frozen in place. On the inside, his chest tightened with offense.

Well isn't she just an adorable little bitch. The girl was apparently enjoying her little baiting of him. Her eyes, having given up the shy facade, were sparkling with anticipated expectation for John's reaction. Maybe she was just playing with him, or maybe she was being a little witch. But John knew games when he saw them, and knew how to play.

" I'm tall," he replied. " Stretched muscle and bone. And I'm pretty active as much as I can be, plus not a heavy eater, so fat never really has a chance to accumulate on me. Never underestimate the skinny guy. I'm a hell of a lot stronger than I look."

Mris kept her gaze locked with John's, searching out the deception. " I suppose." Then her lips curled into an amused grin. " Show me a few of your battle scars," she said with a wink, " and I might be inclined to believe you."

John leaned in close to her face, but Mris remained right where she was.

" You're just going to have to take my word for it," John said, and moved away back to leaning against the wall.

Mris shrugged as though it were no never-mind to her. " Okay. But I don't know you well enough to take your word for anything."

" Your problem, not mine."

Mris moved in a few inches closer until her arm was brushing up against his. " That can be remedied, you know..."

" Mris?"

Mris quickly stepped back, yet her grin stayed put. If anything, she was looking even more amused when a thick bodied man with auburn hair and beard came up beside her and placed an arm around her shoulders. He had a rifle slung onto his shoulder, and some kind of flashlight dangling from his belt. He looked John up and down, then gave him a jerk of the head as a greeting.

" You look familiar," he said. " I see Maj managed to put you back together."

John turned from leaning with his back to leaning with his shoulder. " And you are...?"

" Jorsek. Part of the patrol. I never did catch your name, off-worlder."

" John."

" John." Jorsek lifted his chin. " You really Maj's son?"

" Would I be here if I wasn't?"

Jorsek shrugged. " Probably not. But rumor has it that Maj likes to take in strays – animal and otherwise. She has a lot of heart, that Maj. Could be the death of her though. Death of all of us if she ever decided to bring one of her little charity cases back."

" Good thing I'm more than just a charity guess then."

Jorsek looked John up and down for a second time. " I guess. But an off-worlder is still an off-worlder no matter the blood ties. We don't like the prospect of more mouths to feed around here."

John held up one hand. " Relax. The moment I can get out of here, then I'm out of here. I've got my own life to live, I don't need a new one."

Mris laughed throatily. " He's a soldier, Jorsek."

Jorsek snorted, giving John a third once-over. " You're messing with me."

" That's what he says."

" Yep," John said with a smirk. " That's what I said."

Jorsek snorted again as though indecisive as to whether or not laugh out loud.

John fluttered his eyelids and gave Jorsek a sickeningly sweet smile. " I could show you my scars if you want."

Jorsek finally did chuckle, low and breathy, while shaking his head. " You're a weird one, aren't you."

John scratched idly at the side of his neck. " Most prefer the term insane."

" Hope that isn't really the case," Jorsek said, and John caught something dark but fleeting disdain in the man's eyes. " I might be forced to lock you up. Safety of the town to consider and all. You understand."

Jon inclined his head. " Completely. But you can relax. I'm pretty much harmless half the time. The other half is strictly out of self defense."

Jorsek opened his mouth for a reply when Maj stepped from the store with her brand new ax resting against her shoulder. Her head swiveled back and forth between John and Jorsek until finally settling on Jorsek.

" I see you finally met my son," Maj said, tone flat and heavy on the suspicion.

Jorsek kept his eyes on John. " Yeah, finally did."

" Have a nice chat?"

" Well enough," Jorsek replied. " Not really finished, though. I'll talk to you later, John." With that said, both Jorsek and Mris started moving on, Mris waggling her fingers in a little good-bye at John. When they were gone, Maj turned to John, slightly relieved but still looking somewhat tense.

" I'd rather you not have any further conversations with either of them," she said.

John pushed away from the wall. " I'm way ahead of you on that. I have the feeling Jorsek doesn't like me much and Mris' only interests involve the removal of my pants."

Both Maj's eyebrows and the corner of her lips quirked upward. " Watch that dung-heap mouth of yours boy. Although I won't deny that Mris wouldn't hesitate in stripping you down the first opportunity she got. She had that look in her eye... and though I know I can't command you around in certain aspects of your life, I would hope you wouldn't take her up on any offers she gives you."

John glanced over his shoulder in the direction Jorsek and Mris had gone. " I'm not that kind of a guy. Mom always said a girl who throws herself at you has no self respect, and a woman with no self respect isn't even worth knowing."

Maj smiled and clapped John on the arm. " Smart woman."

" You have no idea."

Anything else that would have been said was halted when a bell rang out drawing in the populace to the center of the town. Maj followed the masses without an explanation, so John followed in turn. They took a side-street to the back of the meeting hall and a raised platform like an outdoor, round-stage. Lorek was standing on it with Kyore next to him and another man – medium height, medium build, with wispy sandy hair and a bristling mustache – was tugging on the rope attached to the bell. The ringing sounded for three minutes longer until Lorek held up both hands for silence.

John's heart started beating faster. Maj had explained most of the laws and customs of the village to him, but there were always those small customs that were so rare even Maj wouldn't have remembered to mention them – such as introducing the new guy to the rest of the villagers, and letting him get a sea of evil eyes all at once.

" Citizens of 443," Lorek said, loud and clear for such a seemingly quiet man. " I ask you all to remain calm and listen close. I fear we must request the formation of yet another hunting party. Yven Vril has been unable to be located by his family. He was last seen by his wife – Zana Vril – heading to their barn to feed the animals at early morning, and has not been seen since. The Vril family has searched the town, so now it is up to us to search the woods. I need able-bodied men capable of participating to grab what weapons they can and meet back at the square in ten minutes. Though Zana has informed us that Yven has been known to slip away to the Iaret canyon river to fish, we are still to not take any chances. This may be nothing, or it may not. So make haste that there remain daylight enough to search by."

The sandy-haired man rang the bell again, and the people dispersed quickly to spread in all directions liked panicked masses without the screaming and shouting. John felt a pull on his coat sleeve that forced him to start walking.

" Maybe I can help," he said. " I got this friend who taught me a couple of tracking techniques..."

" Oh no," Maj said, keeping hold of John's sleeve though she no longer needed to. " We're heading back to the house. You may have been fit enough for a walk through the town, but you're still not fit for any adventuring even if it is just a search."

Maj moved fast for such a small woman, so fast John was having a hard time keeping up, mainly due to increasing exhaustion. By the time they reached the house, John was stumbling so much that Maj finally just kept her hands wrapped around his arm to hold him upright. The cold air rubbed his throat raw with each heaving breath until he was coughing. Maj directed his weary body into the kitchen where she deposited him in a chair, then poured him a glass of water. John took the glass, and downed the water in a single breath.

" Sorry about that, John," she said as she helped him take off the coat. His shirt was soaked with sweat that turned what was supposed to be warm air chilled, making him shiver. Maj filled another glass of water from the sink. " I didn't mean to push you like that. I just got a little spooked back there." She moved to the table and set the glass down. John took it, and sipped rather than gulped. Maj leaned forward with her palms flat on the table and her gaze focused on the wall across from her.

" Yven's barn was right on the edge of the woods," she said more to herself than to John. " Right on the edge. The entrance faces away but there are the windows... So that still wouldn't be considered taken in the town. Still, it's very close..." Maj tucker her lower lip under her teeth, and fell silent. John watched and waited as he sipped his water to hear what else Maj had to say. Instead, she straightened.

" You still have your weapon?"

John set the glass down. " In my room under my pillow."

Maj nodded. " Good, a good place to have it. Only place you can since you aren't allowed a projectile until after a residence of at least a month. Come with me."

Maj didn't wait for John. She headed for the stairs, and John had to scramble from the chair to follow. By the time he reached the top of the stairs Maj was already emerging from her room carrying two bladed weapons that looked like a cross between Teyla's fighting sticks and half the blade of a Samurai sword. She carried both weapons in one hand, and held them out to John. " Here, take these. You may not be allowed a projectile but in light of what's been going on the Committee can't very well disallow you the opportunity to defend yourself in some way.

John took the weapons and held them in both hands. They couldn't really be called swords with the handle being the same length as the blade. They were more like some kind of ancient machete in design but recently made. The wood part was carved in painstakingly intricate designs that made the handles easy to grip without hurting the hand. The weapons were light and well balanced, like fighting sticks, and probably handled in the same way.

" My husband made those," Maj said. " Learned the method on another world. They may not look like much, but I've seen my husband slice logs with them during practice. Clean through with one swipe when handled right."

John stepped back to twirl one of the blades as Teyla had taught him without hitting Maj. Maj pursed her lips, impressed. " That was good. You've handled weapons like these before?"

" Sticks, not really blades, but these feel the same."

Maj folded her arms. " Good, then I won't have to worry about you taking your own hand off. You tuck those in your belt whenever you go out, keep them with you."

John shifted the weapons to carry both in one hand, and looked at Maj. " You're making me a little nervous here, Maj."

" Good," she said. " You should be."

SGA

TBC...