Interlude 4 - A New View

by Wedjatqi

ALLIANCE FIC – Set immediately after the dramatic events of 'On Common Ground', Atlantis and the Alliance must now deal with the consequences, facing new threats and significant injuries, but also bright new beginnings.

30. The Gift

Note: This chapter took some time to edit, because it's probably one of the longest chapters I've ever written. But, given that I have set myself the 40 chapter limit for this fic and this chapter is an important point in the story - and that I couldn't bear to do away with any of it - I've decided to keep it as a long chapter and apologise in advance. I hope the content makes the length worth it as Day 27 of the story draws to a close...

00000

DAY 27 – Visiting the Past

Chapter 30 – The Gift

The trip to Isper hadn't quite worked out the way she'd expected. Saying goodbye to Zio had been far more upsetting than she'd predicted and the case, which she foolishly hadn't considered over the years, was so ridiculously heavy that she was surprised the handle had stayed attached to the thing.

Fortunately, Madesh had carried the case for her initially on Isper, which had helped save her arms, but also given her the opportunity to walk ahead of him, allowing the rain and the distance to hide her tears.

Zio had been a friend for a long time, though, she had had to admit today, the accumulated hours she'd actually spent in Zio's company were probably a lot less than she'd realised. Though his shop had been a safe place to visit occasionally on her off-station time away from Dream, they had always been flying visits on the way to something she needed to do, or when she'd needed to lie low for a few hours. His shop had a nice living space upstairs, and, after a few years, she given into the safe, but unemotional passion on his narrow neat bed. But that had dwindled in the later years because it had become pretty obvious that he'd started to read too much into it all. He'd wanted to hold her, tell her stories of his childhood, and had increasingly dropped hints that she could leave Dream and live with him instead. He'd wanted to save her, to offer her a life that he thought was better for her. As sweet and intelligent as he was, and as good a trade as the tea shop continued to be, there was no damn way she was going to tie herself to a male who felt he had saved her from her worst nature. He'd want the 'W' word too; want her to become an obedient tea shop assistant and always available for him upstairs.

She was never going to be that person, but still, saying goodbye to him, she hadn't been able to deny how much he'd meant to her. He was a decent and hardworking man, and he'd been a reliable friend. The problem was that she'd been a real shitty one in return. That he'd been so upset at her leaving today had proven that well enough. She'd been wrong to let him continue to have that unrealistic dream, and to have put him in danger all these years. Even with the best disguises, someone would eventually have recognised her or tracked her to his door, and now she had the Elite staff beacon in her wrist... No, today's choice was right, but guilt had still formed an ugly mix with the sadness as she'd led Madesh through the Portal, leaving Isper's rain and wind and arriving into the hot sandy air of Milioc Primary.

She'd barely said anything to Madesh as they'd changed back into their own clothes and headed back to the marketing station where she'd promised him a big meal in his favourite restaurant as a thank you. He'd certainly enjoyed the meal and hadn't stopped talking through it, while she had slowly sipped at her peppery soup and picked at her large chunk of sweet grain bread.

It had taken her far too long to realise that Madesh's chatter had been an attempt to cheer her up, which was pretty embarrassing. She'd made an effort after that, but then he'd gone and started talking about the Sythus being all fixed and ready to launch. That meant that soon he, and the rest of the Strays, would be jetting off on a big important mission and she'd be left behind, worrying if they were going to get themselves killed. That had heaped more depression on top of the sadness.

It wasn't like she hadn't known the mission was coming, Halling had been constantly talking about the Skerti hunt and, as soon as they found where the Skerti were hiding, that the Sythus would be heading out to find them. Which meant, she'd realised, presumably Halling would be leaving with them too.

Great. She'd go from having the best social group she'd had in her life to everyone heading off to battle and she'd be left alone in the Facility, all nice and stupidly safe. Though, Massa would still be in the Facility and Oneakka clearly wasn't going to be well enough to go off fighting Skerti anytime soon, so she'd at least have them. That had cheered her up a bit, and she'd managed to focus on her time with Madesh.

After the meal, they'd headed to the queue for the Portal again. The wait had been far shorter this time, everyone camped out in the restaurants for midday meal, so in horrible short order, Madesh had given in the address for the Portal near the Sythus dock and she was saying goodbye to him.

She'd hugged him tight, feeling worried about him leaving. He'd rubbed her back in return, like he was reassuring her, which had made her feel embarrassed again, but she'd still held onto him a bit longer. As they'd let go of each other, he'd joked that it was unlikely that news of the Skerti would arrive tonight, so he'd seen her soon. As he headed towards the Portal, he'd waved and grinned at her, before disappearing into the Portal's light.

Leaving her alone with her heavy old case at her feet.

Still feeling faintly depressed, she'd supplied the Portal address back to the Facility, picked up the heavy case and trudged through to the barren moonscape on the other side of the wormhole. Fortunately, there had been plenty of Recruit piloted transport craft waiting, so she'd headed into the closest one. The trip had been quick, but maybe that was because she'd started dwelling on Zio and the Sythus again, but fortunately the transport docking bay had arrived, and, the second the door had slid open, she'd gratefully wrestled the case out into the hallways of the Facility.

Coming back here did kind of feel like coming home now, and, fortunately for her, it being around midday meal here too, there hadn't been many people walking the hallways of the Facility to see her struggling with the case. She tried to look like it wasn't too much for her, but the fact was the damn thing was seriously heavy and she had to keep stopping to give her hands and arms a rest.

Honestly, what was the point of having big strong Elite friends if none of them were around when you actually needed their muscles! Though, it wasn't like Oneakka could help currently, and Halling was still on bed-rest after getting a mild chest infection. It was Massa's opinion that Halling had been overdoing things, working long hours on the Skerti project around his shift sitting with Oneakka, so Halling couldn't help. The case on the floor for another 'break', she consulted her pad to see where Massa was. Even though the man had nerve damage and reduced strength in one arm, he still had arms bigger than hers and the one full working arm was thick with muscle. Nope, it was no good, he was scheduled on as working on the ongoing Recruit assessments. She was on her own with the heavy burden.

She frowned down at the thick case. She couldn't push it as it had grips on the underside, which would scrape loudly on the smooth floor and probably leave tracks on the route. No doubt the Facility staff would be on her back about that and she'd probably have to do the repairs herself. She could go get her bag in her quarters and move some stuff out into that, but that would involve leaving the case unattended in the middle of the Facility. Not only would that invite passerby interest, but an unattended bulky bag in a military base would no doubt send up some serious alarm bells if a Security staff member came across it. She could leave it with a security member, but then they'd be free to look inside it...

No, she was going to have to do this herself and she was bloody determined to now. So, she gripped the handle and heaved the thing up again, moving quickly forward as fast as she could risk before pausing to switch hands, then hurried forward again. After half a corridor, she set the case down again and shook some blood back into her hands.

She frowned up at the ceiling, wondering where the security observation cameras were and if she was being watched doing this. She hoped they were having a good laugh, or maybe freaking out that she had something suspicious in the case. Either way, no one had turned up to check or offer to help; not that she needed it now, she was only a few corridors away from her quarters now. She just needed to keep going.

As she set the case down the next time, she heard a faint rattle inside from the drop. Under all the years worth of stored currency, the bottom part of the case held her oldest things, which she hadn't seen for almost ten yearly cycles. Excitement started to power her on the next lift and hurry section, and she managed to push herself a little bit further this time and, soon enough, had reached her own corridor. Which was about when her energy started to give out. So she started pushing a bit, shoving the case forward. The grips at the bottom did make a loud squeak, but no marks were left on the floor.

This had better be worth it. Hopefully, she hadn't mixed up what could be in this case, because there was one particular item in here that she wanted. And she couldn't really remember what else might be in the case, so it was starting to get a bit exciting. All those years ago when she'd bought the case and set it into Zio's newly installed storage space, she'd never have conceived of the idea of her carrying the whole thing away one day, and clearly hadn't planned for that eventuality by thinking about how much she'd put in the damn case over the years.

With a loud breath, she gripped the case handle in both hands this time and performed an awkward wobbling walk down the corridor, her door on the right in the distance. One brief pause and she continued on, her arms weakening for the last bit, until she finally dropped the case down outside her door. One hand still on the handle, she waved her other arm up vaguely towards the door's sensor for it to read her beacon. The door slid open and she wrestled up the case again, bouncing slightly off one side of the doorframe to get inside. She swore the case was getting heavier for these last few steps, but, finally, she dropped the thing down in the centre of her narrow small home and she collapsed onto her chair with a long groan.

"Next time," she whispered breathlessly to herself, "take extra bags."

She straightened up from her slump and considered the case sat between her sprawled open legs. "This had better be worth all this effort," she muttered as she reached out to activate her wallscreen. The time appeared in the right corner. She had done better than she'd thought! She still had over an hour until she was due for her shift with Oneakka. Nalla had taken Halling's usual morning shift with Oneakka the last couple of days, and the big Elite Si had asked for the first part of this afternoon with Oneakka, which had given her the opportunity for today's trip to Isper.

She tapped the screen to check her text links. There were a load of standard update messages for the project, but as she was off-rotation today she didn't bother reading them. She did have a text link from Oneakka in which he'd sent her a link to a military history entry in the Elite database. They'd been talking about Alliance history and she'd asked about how the border had been first created. She saved the link to read later and typed a quick reply to Oneakka thanking him, and then reminded him that he'd promised not to finish Sheppard's jigsaw game without her. They'd almost finished the picture yesterday evening, but had run out of time. He'd agreed, reluctantly, not to complete it without her, but he'd agreed with a silent nod, not a verbal promise, so she suspected foul play from him.

Pleased that nothing else required her time for the next hour though, she stripped off her sweaty clothes, threw them into the laundry receiver, and had a lovely hot shower. Dried and dressed in fresh clean clothes, she returned to the chair and pulled open the top of the case. Currency filled the view, so she pulled it out by the handful, stacking up the wedges of paper currency and piles of metal currency on her table. Creass had always paid Dream wages by whatever currency he had going, most of it gained via the gambling tables, so the types of currency she had been given had varied considerably, but she'd never minded. Currency was currency, and since Creass had deducted room and board from wages, she had barely had to actually spend her currency over the years. Even split between her many stashes, there was a ton in the case, and she had to stack the currency high on the small table to get the case emptied down to the older stuff right at the bottom.

Though, partway down, she found a few extra things mixed in. A tightly rolled up spare top, two golden bracelets that Creass had given her one tight payday when he'd run out of actual currency to pay her. Then she felt the hard edge of a weapon, and she pulled out a small Litan stunner that she'd forgotten she'd put in here. Fortunately, she'd removed and depowered the cell, or it would have triggered the alarms at the marketing station. She clicked the cell to life and was pleased to see it had held at least half its charge over the years. She'd confiscated the weapon off a gambler on Dream and, being impressed with the, then new, Litan weapon, she'd kept it for herself. Under that, there was more currency, until finally she reached the bottom section of the case and her old things.

Everything was wrapped up in various pieces of torn clothing or paper she'd been able to find when she'd put everything in here. She pulled out each small bundle one at a time, opening up the edges to peer inside. She found a hairclip she'd used to wear when her hair had been shorter, and a bracelet that she'd been given as payment at a pit fight. Sometimes, like Creass had found, the pit fight runners hadn't had enough currency to pay the fighters, so they'd given weapons, jewellery, or even clothing. Most of the time she'd sold those things on, unless Ulfur had gotten his grubby hands on them himself, but a few things she had decided to keep for herself and kept hidden.

She set the wrapped things on the currency and kept digging. A heavily wrapped item was next, which she opened to reveal a smaller bundle inside, and, inside of that, she found one of her oldest things. She'd forgotten she had kept this! The tiny pendant and chain necklace was heavily tarnished with time and wear, but seeing it again brought back a rush of memories. She could still remember finding it. She'd been living on the streets, hanging around the edges of a large marketplace to beg or steal scraps of food. The traders sometimes used to give away leftover unsold bread and cakes, so she'd hung around all day so she'd be first in line. She'd found the necklace on the dry dusty ground one morning, the clasp broken so it must have dropped off someone's neck without them noticing. She'd scooped it up and hidden herself away behind a stall out of sight where she could look at it. Using her nails to pull open one of the tiny links in the chain to repair it, she had bypassed the broken clasp and worn it for the rest of the day. That evening, one of the traders had given her a whole loaf of bread that he hadn't sold and it had cemented the idea in her childish brain that the necklace had brought her luck. She'd worn the thing for years, hidden under her clothes where Ulfur wouldn't notice it and maybe try and sell it for money for his growing addictions. She'd only stopped wearing it when she'd started pit fighting, and, with her growing fight wins, she'd no longer needed the idea of a necklace to bring her success or luck in life.

On impulse, she looped the necklace up and over her head now, the pendant settling just below her collarbones. When she'd first found the necklace it had hung low on her then flat chest, which told her that she had been a lot younger when she'd found it than she'd realised. Still, the pendant had held together and she could probably polish the thing up again.

Pleased at that finding, she reached back down into the case and her hand met flat hard edges. She pulled them out, remembering only now that she had put them in here. Her journals.

Her fight trainer had insisted she keep records of his training and, she had later realised, probably to make sure that she would read and write properly. The first slim book with a worn green cover had been those training notes, and she pulled it open to find the pages crammed full with her old Glisi writing and various diagrams and stick figure drawings. As she leafed through it, she found various quotes that her trainer had dictated to her, and she smiled as she read a few, realising she had in fact remembered a lot of them. She'd need time to go through all of these, see if any gems could be found. She set the green book on top of her bed to read later, and then pulled open the other journal. This one with the red cover had been her pit fighting notes, where she had recorded details on particular regular fighters, their weaknesses, and various techniques that she had used that had or hadn't worked. Her writing was more developed here, not just in Glisi anymore, but in various other languages she'd picked up. There were lists of various fight rules for different planets, some other notes written in hurried rough handwriting, probably recorded right after a fight when she'd been injured or tired.

She turned a page and something dropped out. She reached for the crumpled slip of paper and held it up. The print on it had faded a lot, but it was clearly an entry slip to a fight. Though, it was the bloody fingertips dried on the top that told her what it was. She frowned at the dark memories slithering around the fight slip, the name of the planet and the location underlined. Her first love's last fight. His blood on her fingers when he'd died from his own arrogance and stupidity in that fight. She remembered picking up the entry slip, clutching it in her hand as she had been dragged from the fight ground crying. Old dark and violent memories.

This book was filled with years of fights, of dominating others to get currency to survive, to eat.

She put the slip back into the journal and snapped it shut, setting it aside, only then impulsively put it under some of the wrapped bundles, as if that would help get rid of the memories.

She turned back to the case, having to reach right down into it now. She was almost at the bottom. Maybe she was wrong, maybe she hadn't kept it.

A bundle of soft fabrics were several old tops that had been her favourites. She opened them up and marvelled at how such threadbare clothing she'd considered worth saving.

The case provided several more folded layers of clothing, including one her preferred fighting tops, which made her smile. Though, it smelt very musty now from its age and having been stuffed at the bottom of the case for ten yearly cycles. She set it aside too, her small table piled high now.

If it wasn't in this case, then maybe it was in another hiding place...

Her hand found the edge of something metallic and she grinned. She pulled out a partially wrapped item. Yes, this was it!

She set the bundle on her lap and unwrapped the fabric, revealing the knife inside.

She let out a sigh of relief. Of all the old things she'd kept, this was the one that she had known had had actual value and not just something that only had worth to her. This was a good knife and had been a gift, so she'd hidden it away, afraid that someone on Dream would have stolen it, or possibly attempted to kill her for it. A good blade, even one as compact as this, was a prized possession.

She held it up, surprised at how little it had tarnished. Unlike the necklace, the knife showed barely any sign of the years that had passed. It had to be twenty yearly cycles old at least, but it looked just how she remembered it. She turned it in her hands, checking it over, and then drew the blade out of its close metal sheath to reveal the engraved writing on the flat sides of the knife.

Yes! She'd been told that the knife was Ugun all those years ago, but people said all sorts of things. However, now she'd seen enough of Oneakka's written language on the spines of his books, and even in a few handwritten notes she'd spied recently, that she was pretty sure the engraved words on the blade were in Ugun.

Excellent.

A glance at the wallscreen said it wasn't time yet for her shift with Oneakka, but she was eager to get this to him. She slid the blade back into its neat small scabbard and stood up. It wouldn't hurt to get to him early, and Si might want to leave early too.

000000

He'd worked out that they could lose twenty minutes and it not look suspicious. Between walking from the prayer room, where everyone was nicely distracted, and getting to visit Carson in the Infirmary, a short detour so Teyla could 'see' her quarters could realistically give them twenty minutes off the radar. He'd paved the way over the last few days, asking the Colonels if there'd been any update from the Elite about the Skerti hunt, and when nothing had been shared yet, he'd suggested Teyla might be able to tell them something during Torren's visit. Then yesterday, after his second failed visit to Chaya - who again hadn't been in her temple when he'd visited - when he'd returned, Colonel Carter had quietly asked if he might have a chance to talk with Teyla about the Skerti information. He'd pretended like he'd not thought of that already and had promised to ask her.

And it hadn't taken much to convince Teyla to sneak away with him.

They just had to keep to the strict time alone in their quarters. With good planning, anything was achievable, which Teyla had laughed at on their casually paced walk to their quarters. The plan had started with quickly undressing and laying out their clothes on her unused bed, so they'd keep their clothes presentable, and he'd darted into his side of their quarters and retrieved his alarm clock, setting it to now nineteen minutes.

The alarm set, he headed back to her side of the quarters and found her stood naked on the small new colourful rug he'd gotten for her. She was scrunching up her toes in the pile of the carpet and smiling. Dragging his eyes up from her golden toes, over her hips, and lingering over her peaked nipples, he headed towards her. She turned towards him as he reached the tea table and he dipped down just enough to put the alarm on the table while still taking in as much of her as possible. As soon as he straightened, her hands slid around his shoulders and suddenly the set time, the new rug, and his precise pre-planned fastest route to Carson in the Infirmary all vanished as her tongue met his.

It quickly became damn obvious that time wasn't going to be a problem here. Everything got real hot and heavy super fast, and before he knew it she was pulling him down onto the new rug, her legs were wrapping around his waist, and he was pushing into her with a long happy groan. God, he'd missed her.

Her fingers were tight in his hair, pulling his mouth back to hers as he withdrew and pushed back into her, her knees bumping against his elbows. She was so ready for him, and he couldn't get any harder if he tried.

He could hear his pulse beating in his ears as he pumped his hips and leaned back over her to suck on her tongue, her nails sharp needy points in his scalp, but he didn't care.

He flattened his forearms on the cold floor either side of her glorious golden throat, and slid his hands under her head. He pulled his mouth from hers and dipped his head to lick and kiss up her throat, over her delicate jaw line and up to her ear. She was panting loud and fast, begging him to move faster, both her hands on his backside now, pulling him harder into her.

He gave her everything she asked for, pumped hard then slow, faster and deeper, glorying in watching her eyes rolling back in her head. He watched her mouth open, her lips full and wet as she moaned loudly, her head tilting back on the pillow of his hands.

She started fluttering deep inside, her legs and her hands clutching around him tight and wet. He withdrew enough to hold himself back, holding his breath as he watched and felt her ride the waves that rippled up through her like the best rolling waves crashing against a beach.

Then, as she sighed out long and satisfied, he pushed back into her, her hands sliding up to the back of his neck. Her eyes opened again, deep black pools, and her lips parted into a wide sexy smile.

He pressed his mouth back against hers, sliding his tongue into her wet heat, as he felt the coiling sensation in his lower back. He was reaching the edge of his control already.

As she sucked on his lower lip until her teeth bit in, he let himself go. Pushing and pulling his hips, sliding longer, deeper, her legs wide open around him.

He pulled his hands from behind her head as carefully as he could and set his palms on the floor, lifting his chest up from hers as he thrust into her. She was breathing hard and smiling up at him, her nails sharp trails over his shoulders to his chest. As her thumbs caressed across his nipples, he could hear himself grunting.

He could barely breathe, but he didn't slow down. There was no time and it was just so good...

"John," she called and he lost the last tendrils of restraint. With one long deep slide he came hard.

He was aware he was groaning loudly, but with his eyes shut and his head back, all he was really aware of was her tightening around him again and the blissful rush through his body.

Then everything dropped away into that glorious place of peace, leaving him panting and listening to her heart racing under his ear.

An indefinable time later, he was able to open his eyes and catch his breath, aware of Teyla's fingers massaging across his scalp. He blinked at her nipple in his view, realising he had his cheek on one of her breasts, his arms practically starfished out above him.

He cleared his throat and lifted his head, his skin faintly sticking her to breast. He blinked up towards her face, seeing her eyelids blink sleepily open. Good, she was just waking up too. He shifted up onto his elbows again, but kept his belly against hers, her legs still draped around his hips, all nice and warm.

Her hand ran through the front of his hair and she smiled as she repeated the motion, probably trying to get his hair under control for him. All he could think was that it was a damn good thing they'd put their clothes aside out of the splash zone.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips and he felt her smiling as he lifted his head, so he went back for another soft quick kiss.

"What's the time?" He suddenly realised and lifted up from her enough to see the alarm clock up on the tea table. "Eleven minutes left?" He frowned at the time, making sure he'd done the maths right. No way had it only been eight minutes since he'd set the alarm.

She chuckled under him. "I am not complaining."

"You started it," he lowered his chest back down to hers. If they still had eight minutes then all the better. He slid his nose into his favourite spot between her neck and ear, well, one of his favourite spots.

She chuckled again, the sound always great, but especially when he was all up against her. "You were the one who invited me here to inspect the new rug."

He grinned against her skin, drawing in her smell, and nuzzled in under her ear. "You like it?"

"I do," she reported, her hands sliding up and down his back, lingering around his sides where she knew he was ticklish.

"Good," he lifted up onto his forearms again, smiling down at her.

"Though," she frowned as she shifted her body to look at the floor under her, "we appear to have moved off it."

"Cold ass?" he asked.

She laughed. "A little."

He slid his left hand under her shoulders, gripped her right leg around his side and rolled them. There were a few bumps of elbows and knees on the floor, but she was laughing.

"Better?" He asked, his back now on the cold floor and her spread over him.

"Much improved," she seemed to purr as she shifted down on him, resting her cheek on the top of his chest.

He ran his hands over her back and hips, enjoying all the warm soft Teyla skin while trying to ignore the cold floor under his back.

She let out a long satisfied sounding sigh that made him smile, but it did sound a little too like the sighs she made when she was falling asleep. "Hey, no sleeping. We've got six and a half more minutes to feel each other up before we've got to go."

She chuckled against his chest, her breath tickling his chest hair.

She seemed nice and contented, so he continued just stroking as much of her as he could reach. "Just so I can say I asked, there's nothing new about the Skerti right?"

"Nothing new of note," she replied and lifted her cheek from his chest, laying her hands under her chin and smiling at him. "There, you are now able to keep your word to your superiors."

"If it gets me free time with you, I'd say anything."

She grinned, but then her smile started fading.

"What? Upset stomach again?" He checked.

"No," she shook her head. "It is just that the Sythus' repairs have been completed."

"Oh, right," he nodded as he brushed a strand of her hair from her forehead. "I guess you'll be off on some big dangerous mission soon huh?" He wished he didn't feel like he'd been suddenly kicked in the chest. It wasn't like it was surprising news, it was just that he'd gotten used to her being around so much more, nearly always on Athos when he visited and her staying here. "They're not looking for a Political Husband/Atlantis representative onboard are they?" he checked. He'd been on missions with her on the Sythus before, though, admittedly the last time had been because of the then new marriage contract.

"Not on this kind of mission," she confirmed what he'd guessed. "We will be deployed to hunt the Skerti. It will be a high level mission."

He nodded. "Makes sense," he admitted as he stroked her hair. "When you leaving?"

"We are not sure yet, it will depend on when evidence is found of where the Skerti are hidden. It might not be for many weeks," she added with what was obviously a hopeful smile to make them feel better.

"I had wanted you guys to find the Skerti, but now, not so much," he joked.

She smiled and reached out to his jaw and he dipped his chin into her stroking fingers. "I would have you with me all the time if it were possible."

He kissed her fingers. "Yeah, me too." The discussion was hardly new; they both had jobs to do, obligations and responsibilities, but he didn't like it when she was away, especially on a clearly dangerous mission.

"I know Father has organised tickets for you to watch the bantos competition next week," she said, her fingers on his chest now. "If I am still around, I shall be there."

"Cool," he smiled around the sad feelings.

"And there are still the final aspects of the trade contract between the Elite and Atlantis to be finalised," she added, "I shall likely be involved in that, and may be able to visit again."

"Good," he smiled, playing along with the positives, but basically at any moment she could be leaving. Heading off to dangerous Skerti space, wherever that turned out to be.

She lifted up from him, curling her back up so she could see the tea table and his alarm clock. He slid his hand up over her beautiful exposed breasts. "How much longer do we have?" She asked.

Two minutes by his count, but suddenly that didn't seem quite as important anymore, not if this could be their last time alone together.

He slid his hands around her sides, pulling her gently back down to him. "Ages," he whispered as he pressed his mouth to hers.

00000

For the first times in weeks, Oneakka was by himself for a good stretch of time. No babysitter at his side. It was weirdly thrilling to have the time alone. He didn't mind company, but this was a sure sign that, finally, he was seeing proper progress in his recovery.

His physical therapy had gone particularly well this morning too, though he'd been set a new challenge to master: to get down to the floor and stand back up again. The getting down to the floor hadn't been too difficult with some minimal help, but the getting up had been next to impossible. But tomorrow he'd do better.

After all, he could walk to the bathroom by himself now, which was the first thing he'd done after Si had left. Walking didn't hurt anymore, as long as he moved slowly and had furniture and doorframes to keep a light hand on.

As he walked carefully out of the bathroom and back towards his bed, he was aware of discomfort in his middle and legs, but it felt more like muscle strain rather than blinding pain. The pain killers in the medication plan were probably holding back some deeper pain in his wound, but that was okay. It was allowing him to recover faster, and he made it to the bed without having to pause. He reached out to the chair by the bed, using it to help lower himself onto the edge of the bed. Back on the mattress and pleased with himself, he realised he didn't feel as tired as yesterday either. He reached for his medical pad on this side table and consulted the current stage of his medication plan. Yes, as he suspected, the more sedating pain meds had been replaced with more systematic pain and inflammation reducers. Seemed he'd done his research well when he'd made the plan. He wouldn't mention that to Seeal though.

He put the medical pad back and considered his quarters, wondering what to do with the time he had. He could do some reading, he had plenty of new books people had given him, but he didn't fancy doing that right now. Maybe some sketching? He glanced round carefully towards his other side table where the paper pad sat, the old plans of his nightmare landscape sketched out across the top page. The nightmares had finally stopped and he started to rather enjoy his dreams again, though they were still obsessively centred around Ugun.

His attention slid to the Ugun ceremonial cup stood beside the sketch pad. He'd not put it back in its usual place on the shelves yet, which he could do himself now – as long as it wasn't the top shelf. The cup had turned up in last night's dream actually, presumably because he'd been looking at it so much. In the dream, the weird black sand nightmare version of Ugun's landscape had turned into the more accurate empty rich soil that now made up most of Ugun. The cabin he'd planned building in his previous dreams had been complete last night and he'd been in a new shed beside it, building large wooden plant pots while the raven was perched on a spade handle just outside the door. It seemed a weird thing to do to build large planters, since it wasn't like there was any shortage of spare soil to plant in outside the shed. Still, he'd found building them oddly enjoyable in the dream, and he'd been sipping water from that ceremonial cup as he'd worked. Of course his people had never used these cups for water, but it had felt nice that he'd been using it in the dream. He guessed it was probably good in some psychological way.

He'd been feeling happier the last few days. It might be the change in meds, but he felt like he'd put his hallucination behind him now. Had accepted it was something that had happened, that he needed to start processing his old grief, and start moving forward in his life. He still wasn't overly sure what that meant, but he felt like something had changed inside him because of it. He was almost tempted to actually talk to the Mind Healer who Meiyo repeatedly reminded him that he'd have to visit before he could return to battle training after his rehabilitation. Maybe if he talked to the Mind Healer sooner, he'd be able to fast track himself back to battle training.

First though he was going to have to master basics again like sitting on the floor and getting up again. And actually leaving his quarters again, getting to the rehabilitation gym and visiting the canteen again. But, right now, he needed to get more comfortable and let his strained muscles recover a bit. He shifted himself carefully further onto the bed, stacked up his pillows – which he could do by himself now – turned carefully, reached for his blankets and rested back against his pillows with a sigh of pleasure.

He checked the time again. It was still awhile until Seeal would get here.

He reached for his electronic pad and decided to maybe read the latest military reports. The screen lit up and he saw he had a text link from Seeal. She wasn't cancelling her shift was she? No, it was her thanking him for the database link he'd sent her, and her repeating her order that he not finish Sheppard's game without her. He grinned over at the Healing Bay table that held the almost finished picture. He'd completed it all last night with the exception of just two pieces, which he'd left for her to put in place. It was important to make sure she couldn't always get her own way.

There were no new reports other than the regular Elite broadcast, which only included updates on certain ongoing missions and nothing new on the Skerti hunt. He put the pad aside. What else could he do?

His quarters' door slid open, providing instant potential interest and he looked up to see Seeal walk in, early for her shift. "Hi," she smiled as she entered, her eyes shifting away to the empty chairs on both sides of his bed. "Si' gone?" She asked as she headed in, the door sliding shut behind her.

"His meeting was brought forward," he reported, and she frowned faintly, clearly not approving of Si leaving early. "You're early," he pointed out, not that he minded.

"Seems a good thing too," she said as she headed towards her usual chair on his right, "you've been left unsupervised."

He got that she was teasing him, not that she was suggesting he was weak and needed watching constantly anymore.

She was partway to her chair when she noticed the almost completed Earth game. "What?" She stopped by the table. He grinned, pleased she'd noticed so quickly.

"I didn't finish it all," he pointed out.

She looked round at him. "There's only two pieces left to go to complete it," she complained as she continued to her chair, where she set down her computer pad by the usual chair leg, and then laid something new on the chair. Whatever it was, it was wrapped in an old piece of cloth.

"That's hardly a challenge is it," she continued her complaints as she returned to the table and picked up the first of her two pieces left to complete the picture.

"They're good pieces though," he suggested.

"How exactly are they 'good'?" She glared at him over her shoulder, but she wasn't angry, it was their usual banter.

He considered her question. "They're in the middle," he decided could be a good answer.

She shook her head at him before focusing on finishing the picture. "You definitely shouldn't be left unsupervised."

He didn't mention that Massa had been in the room yesterday evening when he'd almost finished the Earth game. "It's not my fault you didn't specify the terms of the agreement," he pointed out, pleased he'd outwitted her.

She pressed the last piece of the game into place and straightened up to admire the completed picture. "How was your physical therapy today?" She asked as she headed back towards him and her chair.

"I walked four full laps of the room without help," he told her, wishing it wasn't such a big thing to boast about. He didn't add the detail that he still had to hold onto furniture to do it.

"That's great," she smiled as she picked up the wrapped cloth and sat down. "It's almost as if your past self who wrote the medication plan knew what he was talking about."

He took a leaf out of her book and rolled his eyes. She didn't miss a chance to bring up his agreeing to stick to the whole plan. He was keeping good notes on his recovery though so he could review the medication plan once he was fully recovered.

He noticed that she hadn't sat back in her chair like normal and was instead sitting forward on the chair, her hands on her lap over the wrapped cloth. She was dressed in a blue top today with two shades spiralling together across her, accentuating her shape. He'd noticed that she liked two toned patterns. Though, there was something brand new about her today: a small dull tarnished pendant lying against the top of her sedate neckline. He'd never seen her wear jewellery before, and this one looked old and slightly damaged.

"You just come from the Project Room?" He asked, wondering if that explained her turning up early.

"No, I'm off-rotation today," she supplied. "I've been off-world. I only got back an hour ago."

"Really?" She hadn't told him she was going somewhere. Normally she mentioned if she was going to a marketing station or to a bar with her social group from the Sythus.

"I met up with Madesh and he helped me retrieve some of my old things from outside the border."

He frowned. "Not from Dreamstation?" He checked.

"No," she shook her head instantly. "Though the case did hold a lot of my wages from back then, it was where I kept my oldest things from before Dream."

"Including that necklace?"

"Yes," she smiled as she reached up to the small metal pendant, moving it between her fingertips. "I found this when I was young. I wore it all the time, sort of believed it was a good luck charm," she winced, embarrassed at the superstition. "The clasp has been broken since I found it, but it meant a lot to me." She peered awkwardly down at it in her hand, the chain too short for her to see the pendant easily.

"I know a metal worker on one of Saoka's stations, he sells good quality jewellery chains and he could professionally clean and repair the pendant for you," he suggested.

"Sounds a good idea, thank you," she smiled, letting go of the pendant.

"You didn't start any riots while you were outside the border did you?" He checked. Hopefully she hadn't run into any old enemies. He trusted Madesh would have helped watch her back.

"No," she confirmed with a raised eyebrow. "There was no trouble."

"Even with you involved?" He teased.

"You keep talking like that and you won't get this gift," she lifted the wrapped cloth from her lap. She'd gotten him a gift?

He dropped his eyes to the cloth, curious. But she didn't offer it to him yet.

"I'm not sure if you remember me telling you that I was once stabbed by an Ugun blade?" She asked.

"Yes, I remember," he confirmed. They had been on their way for him to tattoo her marking on her side before she'd left the Sythus. Back when he'd thought she was going to exit his life outside of occasionally crossing paths here at the Facility. Instead, here she was a good friend sat beside his recovery bed each day.

"Well, there was slightly more to that story than I told you," she winced slightly.

"Really? Wow, that is a surprise," he told her with deadpan sarcasm.

She pulled a face at him, but continued. "Technically, I kind of stabbed myself," she admitted. "A little bit," she added as if that made any difference.

"You'd not used the weapon before?" He guessed.

"Not properly, no."

"You'd be surprised how often we all nicked ourselves with weapons during training as Recruits," he told her frankly. "There's a reason we all start with wooden versions of blades."

"Right," she nodded. "That doesn't make it quite so embarrassing."

He had to chuckle at her pained wince.

"Anyway, I've had this for a long time hidden away, but I'm pretty sure it's Ugun."

He snapped his eyes down to the cloth she was not holding out to him. She had something from Ugun?

It wasn't like he hadn't been offered plenty of Ugun items over the years, though sometimes they hadn't actually been Ugun in origin. Still, the offerings had fallen away over the last ten years or so, since everything had been offered to him already, but it seemed strange to think that she might have something Ugun considering they'd become friends. If it was even from Ugun.

He reached out and took the wrapped item, feeling the telltale weight and coolness of a metal object inside even through the warmed cloth from her hands. She'd called it a blade, but it was clearly too small to be an actual fighting blade, which had only ever been given off-Ugun as official gifts to other planetary leaders. It was probably going to be a utensil knife or maybe a butcher knife, he'd received them from off-worlders before.

He set the item on his lap and started unwrapping it, and a hilt came into view. A faint chill passed over him as he pulled the rest of the cloth away.

It was a guardian knife!

He'd only seen a few of these in non-Ugun hands. They had been small personal knives that his people had worn on their hips, ostensibly for defence but, from what he remembered from his childhood, they'd actually been used for everything from cutting cloth to slicing fruit. He had been fascinated with how dextrous Mother had been with hers, how she'd deftly and repeatedly had to cut threads from the seams of his clothes that his fast growing body had broken free. Guardian knives had been a staple of Ugun life, though he'd never had one of his own as they'd only been worn by adults who had gone through the maturity rituals at twenty yearly cycles of age.

He lifted the knife to study it more closely, impressed at the well balanced weight of blade to handle. It had a simple cross hilt and a metal scabbard that appeared well forged with a perfect fit. The decoration was minimal but impressive and elegant. This had been a good blacksmith. He turned the knife over, searching for the blacksmith's mark which should be on the other side of the hilt.

The mark came into view, stood central on the hilt, a raised circle with several arcing lines curving through it.

He dropped the knife in shock.

The knife dropped the small distance back to his lap, the blacksmith's mark staring up at him.

Shock made everything seem to dim around him, so that all he could see was the circle and curved lines, reaching out of his memories and into this moment.

The memories of the forge, of being small and watching with rapt attention as Father had forged weapons, tools, and hinges. He'd watched and listened to how Father's particular blacksmith's mark was made, what the curved lines meant as a continuation of their lineage.

Smoke, fire, and hot warmth seemed to fill his mind with the remembered whispered teachings from Father. Of helping press the bellows to power the fire, of Father's deep voice and the power of his hammer as it had rung hard on metal and anvil.

A sound that he'd heard again more recently, echoing through to him as he'd died, leading him into his hallucination...

The sign.

What he'd tried to pretend he hadn't been secretly waiting for...

The confirmation that what he'd experienced had been real.

He blinked, pushing unbidden tears from his eyes, and he became aware of where he was again.

He reached out with shaky fingers to touch Father's blacksmith mark. Was this really happening?

Surely it was just coincidence?

He blinked again, trying to clear his mind and focus better.

He had a few items that Father had forged himself, a hammer and some utensils, but they'd been given to him a long time ago by some of Father's own off-worlder friends. But, he'd never seen something like this that Father had forged. He could vaguely remember there had been swords and knives in the forge, but he'd never seen anything like this before. Evidence of how truly skilled his father had been at his trade, just like Mother had always said.

The metal felt cool and smooth under his fingertips as he ran his fingers from the mark and over the decorated hilt. Father had made this, it had been in his hands, and was now under his.

"Are you okay?" Seeal's voice drifted in from outside of his tunnelled deafened space.

He nodded, but he couldn't take his eyes off the knife.

What were the chances that this would arrive now? Just when he'd been waiting for a sign? Halling had said Athosians believed any sign would be bluntly obvious, and this clearly fulfilled that. This wasn't just a vague sign; it was a literal object that Father had made.

"It is Ugun then?" Seeal asked softly from his right.

"Yes," he cleared his throat, his voice tight. "And...it was forged by my father."

"What?! Really?" Seeal voice drew closer and he heard her shuffle her chair closer to the side of his bed and felt the subtle weight of her elbows maybe on the edge of the mattress. "How can you tell? Is it that central symbol?" Her voice asked from close to his side now.

He nodded. "Every Ugun blacksmith had their own mark, unique and adapted from their professional training lineage. My father's was an adapted version of his father's, which had been adapted from his Mother's mark," he explained. "In our lineage, the lines represent where the family had travelled to live," he traced one curve of metal. "From the farmlands where Great-Grandmother had moved to the high mountains when she married, then in Grandfather's day he moved down to the hills," he traced the second line. "Then this third line is Father's that joins them with this point, symbolising he travelled to live near the Portal where he met Mother."

He knew the story without thinking, for Father had repeated it all the time as he'd forged the marks. For Uguns, metal objects, particularly ones made for personal use were thought to be imbued with power and spirit, and the telling of the story had been Father's way of imbuing not just his metal creations, but his children with the importance of his lineage, not just Mother's lineage of Akireu.

Of course, all those stories now ended with him; his story was the last story of Ugun. That he left Ugun to travel between the stars and only returned when the soil had been burnt and all life had been killed.

"Do you want me to go?" Seeal asked softly.

He shook his head and blinked up from the knife, forcing himself to be present now and not lost in old memories. "No, it's okay." He wiped a quick hand over his cheek, the tears gone now, mostly. He had a flashing moment of embarrassment in front of Seeal, but it wasn't like that was anything new recently.

He focused back on the guardian knife with a more critical eye, studying Father's clearly expert work in more detail. "Where did you get it?" He asked.

"It was given to me when I was younger," she answered. "But I don't know where Arezou got it."

He snapped his attention round to her. "Jin Arezou?" He asked, shocked again, but the link suddenly made sense.

"Yes," she confirmed with wide dark eyes. "You knew Jin Arezou?"

"I do," he confirmed back. "He was a close friend of my father, an off-world trader."

Seeal nodded. "Big guy, always wore fur-lined coats regardless of the weather?"

He couldn't believe this. He and Seeal knew the same man?

"Yes," he smiled. Jin had worn the fur-lined thing all the time, even when sat in the family forge. Oneakka could remember sitting on Jin's knee as a small boy, the big man telling him amazing stories of the other planets beyond Ugun. "How did you meet him?"

"He was the one who introduced me to pit fighting," she answered.

"What?" Oneakka frowned round at her, shocked at the news. He knew Jin had been into all kinds of trade across many of planets and moons, but he hadn't known he was involved with pit fighting, and certainly not introducing poor young girls to the dangerous sport!

"He used to trade with the Glisi when they were near the Portal," Seeal continued. "So when he heard stories about a street boy Ulfur's size, knowing the Glisi, he guessed where Ulfur was from."

"So he wanted him to fight?"

"Yes, he worked as an introducer, got a cut for bringing in winning fighters for the trainers and sponsors," she answered. "He tracked us down and tried to convince Ulfur to start fighting, argued it would bring us currency and maybe help Ulfur straighten out his life."

"But he realised you were the real fighter."

"I'm not sure how he did," she frowned, "but he actually remembered me. Back when the Glisi were last near the Portal, he'd been warned about the 'dangerous cursed witch child' that hung around the edges of the camp," she muttered. "He saw me loitering near the tree line, watching the visiting traders, and I'd followed him back towards the Portal apparently, watching from the trees, so he left me some food when no one was looking. I remember a few visiting traders did that for me when the camp was near the Portal. I remember wishing we could stay there all the time."

Oneakka's reduced opinion of Jin rose again. That was more like the Jin he knew.

"He meant well for introducing me to the pit fighting, suggested I try it for awhile, that it could get me off the streets. I won my first fight and he gave me this knife. I guess I got him some good currency for the introduction. Over the next maybe five yearly cycles or so, he'd occasionally appear at a pit fight, probably introducing more people, but not a lot. I always wondered what happened to him."

"He's retired and living in the Alliance," Oneakka could answer that for her.

"Really?"

"I see him a few times a year."

"I have no idea how old his was when I knew him," she considered. "Is he elderly now? Do you think he'd remember me?"

"His mind is still very sharp, though his body is failing him a little. Bad joints," he used Jin's own description of his weakened and painful joints. "But he's well otherwise. If you want, I can take you to visit him once I'm recovered."

Jin's memory was very good, so Oneakka imagined he'd remember her. Jin had been a big source of information on Ugun for Oneakka, since Jin had visited Father and the family very regularly over the years. Oneakka had made it clear though that he didn't want to know any details of what happened to his family after he'd left, but he'd go to Jin for questions about Ugun things he couldn't find any information on. Still, Jin had accidently let a few details out over the years. Oneakka knew that his eldest sister, Minoru, had become a Healer and had a baby girl not long before Ugun had fallen; and one of his brothers, Huan, had apparently become a monk and had moved to the monastery up in the local hills. Other than that, Jin had kept his word not to share any more, or show the things and pictures he had stored away. They were all left to Oneakka in Jin's last wishes legal document apparently, so there was no hurry to look at them.

"I'd like that," Seeal accepted his offer.

He'd quite like to go see Jin as soon as he could, especially since his hallucin- his experience. Find out how Jin had come by this guardian knife and why he'd given it away, especially if it had been a gift from Father. Though, the visits to Jin were never easy. Father had meant a lot to Jin, the two having been good friends for a long time, and the old man still got very upset thinking about Father. But Oneakka had promised himself that he'd keep watch over Jin, make sure that the rest of his years were as comfortable as possible. He felt Father would want that. And it was still nice to have the link to his past, since Jin had been something like an honorary Uncle to him.

"That's so weird that we know the same person," Seeal said, "considering how big the galaxy is, and that Jin would give me this knife that I then give to you."

"No, you need to keep the knife," he stressed to her.

"But you can have it," she frowned at him.

"I appreciate the offer, but this is a guardian knife. It's meant to be your first weapon against attack. My people wore their guardian knives on their hip at all times, only taking them off to sleep. They used them for everyday things too, but..." how to explain this to her? "My people believed that these kinds of items - guardian knives, tools for their trade, or swords - that were forged for personal use have a kind of spirit of their own and are inextricably bound to their owner."

He turned the knife in his hands. "My people only traded certain metal items to off-worlders, mostly utensils or things like gate handles and hinges. Fighting blades, tools or metal statues were usually only given as gifts to off-worlders. But, I've only ever seen three guardian knives outside those that were destroyed with my people, and those had particular stories to them. Two were gifts to traders, and one was given to a mercenary who had stayed on Ugun for awhile when he was younger. His daughter told me that he had been given it by an Ugun after he had helped during a crisis, and that he had worn the guardian knife for the rest of his life and had died with it on his hip."

Oneakka frowned down at her knife. Maybe Father had given this to Jin, but surely Jin would know not to pass on such an important and personal gift.

"We believe you should be buried with your spirit blades and tools," he continued. "Even if they dull, they should be kept and stay in your home with you until you are eventually buried."

He sensed Raven looking at him intently, so he looked round at her, hoping she understood the importance of what she owned.

"You said 'we' rather than 'my people'," she said.

He frowned at her point. "I did?" He asked.

She nodded, watching him intently. "You've never done that before."

He felt faintly transparent to her intense look, but he couldn't deny the facts. And, he realised, maybe he did actually share his people's beliefs about personal weapons. His own long knives that had been damaged during his fall in the Rogue Hive had been retrieved for him by the salvaging teams, and they were stored away for him until he could see if they could be repaired. Every Elite was taught to care for their weapons, after all they were as much a part of a warrior's success as their training, but Oneakka had taken particular care of his blades, and they were all decades old now. He wondered whether he should get the broken knives out of storage now and look to repair them. His people would say he was ignoring the spirits of the blades following his injury, and maybe there was some truth in that.

"Maybe this knife was supposed to find its way to you, Oneakka?" Seeal suggested, still trying to give him the knife.

"No, it's your knife, Raven," he stressed. "However Jin came to have it, he clearly decided you should have a guardian at your side."

She looked up from the knife with a soft lopsided smile. "Maybe he did. But, I think you should look after it for me for awhile, study it until you want to give it back to me."

He could see the soft understanding in her eyes, and he had to look away back to the knife to push away the rush of emotional gratitude and sense of transparency. "Okay," he agreed. He'd keep it for a few days and then return it to her. The blade spirit had been separated from her for too long as it was.

It would also give him time to think about this some more, think about what it meant about his hallucination...his vision.

"I would love to know what the carvings on the blade mean," she asked.

He carefully pulled the blade partway out of its sheath, the fit perfect. There were set variations of the incantations on most tools and blades from Ugun.

"May this blade always strike true," he read out for her.

"Well it always did," she confirmed. "Including into my own arm."

He vaguely smiled at her laughing at her past accident, but the words seemed to strike true in him as he gazed at the incantation that Father himself had etched into the blade. He had a lot to think about. He slid the knife back into its home and set it down on his lap again, onto the old fabric she'd wrapped it in. He considered the tattered material of what appeared to be part of an old piece of clothing. He lifted an edge, finding a thin and poorly made seam. A top maybe? Perhaps one of her own from long ago?

"How long did you have this, and your necklace, hidden away?" He asked.

"Almost ten yearly cycles," she smiled as he glanced at her. "There's stuff in my case I'd forgotten I had, things to read through and look at." Her smile dimmed a fraction. He imagined that, given her life, there were possibly some darker memories in her old things. He wondered what other items she had rediscovered. What stories they held.

"Has there been anything new about the Skerti?" She asked as she shifted back in her chair, to longer leaning in against his bed.

"Nothing new that I saw in the updates."

She frowned faintly. "If we find the Skerti, assuming that the Queen that Halling killed wasn't some one-off survivor, do you think the Alliance will warn the planets out beyond the border?" She asked.

He guessed she was thinking of old contacts and friends from her old life. Maybe having seen some of them today. He wondered who Madesh might have met. "Probably," he considered. "But we're not always well received, our intel taken as 'Alliance propaganda' in many systems."

She looked up at that word like he'd said something particularly relevant. "I suppose so." She looked worried. "I heard some rumours today."

"Possible Skerti?" He asked eagerly.

"No," she shook her head. "Nothing like that. I heard someone almost assassinated Creass."

He was surprised, not that she'd heard that kind of news, but that she seemed to want to talk to him about it. The subject of Creass had caused plenty of disagreements between them thanks to her continuing ill-placed loyalty to the criminal lord who used to be her employer. He could appreciate loyalty, but not to scum like Creass, so he had repeatedly taken every opportunity to press her on it whenever Creass' name had come up. After all, the owner of Dreamstation had willingly let The Traitor use his station and could probably provide some useful intel that Seeal hadn't overheard. But, Seeal had continued to keep her word not to share the location of where Creass had run to after he'd left Dreamstation. Unless...perhaps she was bringing up the subject now because she as finally thinking of telling him where Creass was hiding?

"He's still alive then?" He checked since she'd said 'almost assassinated', but sometimes such attacks could lead to wounds that took time to kill.

She nodded, a small little crease between her eyebrows. "My contact said it would never have happened if I'd still been watching Creass' back."

Well, obviously. He wasn't sure if her frown was professional annoyance that her replacement was doing a bad job, or whether she was actually worried for Creass. Or even rethinking her choices?

"He'd be safe if he was in an Alliance prison," he pointed out.

Her worried frown became an annoyed glare. Clearly she hadn't been thinking about supplying Creass' location after all then. "How about we watch the rest of the long jump semi-final," she stated in a curt tone. "Unless you completed that without me as well?"

"I didn't complete all of Sheppard's game," he couldn't stop himself from pointing out, annoyed at having misread her and stepping into argumentative territory.

"You may as well have," she replied in what sounded like banter, but he could tell she was saying it to brush over her irritation with him.

How could he fix this?

"I meant that Creass isn't going to make old bones, Raven," he tried. "Even if you were still watching over him, we both know that one day someone would have breached your defences around him, probably when you were away." That's what he would have done. Wait until she was off the planet or station where Creass was hiding, then attack.

She glanced aside, pursing her lips. "I guess," she admitted reluctantly.

"And with him, you might not have made old bones either, Raven," he added, which was the far more important point.

Her dark eyes met his. "I'm not sure that theory works when both of us just recently escaped a crumbling Wraith Hive filled with eradiated murderous Wraith and an evil killer Skerti Queen."

That was actually a fair point and he didn't like it.

He tried to think of something to argue the point, but nothing came to mind. Halling could probably come up with something philosophical and poetic to say, or Emmagan would say something to make her feel stronger, but he'd never had a way with words like them. Or have the emotional passion that Massa had in everything he did and said.

He'd never been good at convincing people of anything, not unless it was that the Wraith were coming, and usually just turning up with his face and his weapons in full view made the point well enough for people. Convincing people with clever talk and appealing to emotional or philosophical reasoning wasn't his thing. He just stuck with facts. Unfortunately, the facts here supported the argument that, though she faced less daily risk since leaving Creass, she'd probably been involved in are far bigger battles and more near-death moments since he'd met her. He didn't like that conclusion, but he wasn't about to lie to her to make her feel better about the reality of her life.

Still, he didn't want to admit it either, and she would see right through any weak attempts to dilute the obvious facts. "Maybe we should just watch the long jump," he concluded reluctantly.

She laughed though, the burst of laughter chasing away her worrying frown with a wide smile.

He had no idea how he'd managed that, especially as he hadn't been trying to cheer her up. She could be very confusing sometimes, but a win was a win.

He reached for his larger electronic pad that held the Earth sports and triggered up the recording of the long jump where they'd left it yesterday evening. He heard her get up and retrieve the Healing Bay table with the now completed Earth game on it and slid it across his bed. He set the pad down on it, angled for them both to see the screen and she shuffled her chair into a more parallel position to his bed, her usual spot to watch the sports, allowing her space to stretch out her long legs.

As the long jump semi-final restarted, he glanced at her again, his gaze falling to the tarnished old pendant sat just below the points of her collarbones. Considering the damage to the pendant, it probably wasn't of a good grade of metal, but that wasn't the point. It was important to her and something that had been in her life a long time. He frowned though, wondering if perhaps she was rethinking other old things in her life.

"You're not thinking of going back to Creass' Security Lead are you?" He asked her directly.

Her attention snapped to him from the pad's screen. "You think I'm going to give up sleeping on Alliance mattresses and not having to worry about someone sneaking into my quarters in the night to literally stab me in the back?" She answered, but it wasn't a definitive 'no', so perhaps she still thought about it.

"So, no?" He pushed.

"No," she confirmed. "He's not my responsibility anymore. I choose my own path. I make my own decisions now, not what others think I should do."

He wasn't sure if that was also her making a point to him about him repeatedly asking for Creass' location, but he was still pleased at her answer.

"Good," he nodded. "Because you have true friends here; people who make sure no one sneaks in to stab you in the back."

She smiled. "That's how Elite show affection is it?"

"Absolutely," he confirmed. "There's nothing more important than being surrounded by people who watch your back as you watch theirs. Who take watch while you sleep."

Her smile had slipped into seriousness, her eyes wide and watching him intently. Raven's attention was an intense thing most of the time, but this was different and he'd seen it a few times before. A moment when her mask of confident control slipped and the emotional female underneath was visible. He held her gaze, seeing what looked like a desperate yearning to have what he'd described. Because, he realised, she'd probably never really had that. Never been with people who would move the heavens to ensure she was safe as she slept. He had no doubt she had watched over Ulfur as he had slept, but he doubted Ulfur had returned the favour. Or, even if he had, she certainly wouldn't have felt safe in his care. He remembered her refusal to share sleeping space with anyone on the Sythus, except reluctantly in his quarters for two nights after her former sleeping space had been flooded out.

"Even if the day comes when you live outside these Facility walls," he told her plainly. "Massa, Halling, and I will always be here for you. And Madesh too," he added, after all she had called on Madesh to help her today to retrieve her things from her old life. "You call on us if you need us."

She gave a little smile as she nodded, but her gaze had dropped down and away, and he saw her blink rapidly. He'd noticed that she got embarrassed when it came to being open with her emotions. She didn't really share how she felt, not unless she was annoyed or frustrated. Her feelings weren't facts that she shared willingly as he did, even with his worst moods, whereas she seemed to hide them away. It probably made sense, given her life so far. He imagined that showing any softer emotions on Dreamstation, on the streets, or in pit fighting were seen as weaknesses, and trusting others just wasn't part of that life. Even her own mother had abandoned her to a raving angry mob. Whereas, for the Elite, they were taught from their first days of training that they must trust each other, that only by working together was victory possible. No warrior won a battle on their own, even if alone. Even a warrior alone, stood on a life of training from experienced teachers and hard won experience at their colleagues' side.

Until now, she had been a warrior of one, lost without companions and trust. No more though.

Given how loyal and honest she'd been with him through his recovery, he would make sure he repaid that, to make sure she started to understand what being among fellow warriors truly meant.

That life didn't have to just be about surviving one moment to the next. He looked back down to her guardian knife and realised that he was clutching it between his hands, not having remembered picking it up again from his lap. In fact, he was holding the knife so tightly that he could feel the blacksmith's mark pressing hard into his palm. He made himself relax his hands and peeled his hand off Father's mark and saw that its shape had been imprinted into the inside of his palm. He stared at the blacksmith's mark now on him, which, of course, it had always been. Hadn't Father made him too?

"Are you sure you don't want to keep it?" Seeal asked from his side, the long jump theatrics still playing in the background, the cheering and applause a strange contrast to the emotional conversations.

He shook his head firmly at her repeated offer. "This is your knife," he replied, "and has been yours for..." he glanced at her with a quick calculation. She had been in her early teens when she'd started in the pit fights. "For two decades. It's your guardian knife."

Though there was some strange irony at work here. Over the decades he'd been offered many Ugun items and he'd taken them all instantly, and where he'd had to hunt items down, he'd haggled hard and willingly used his Elite status to get his people's things. Now though, he was holding something of far more personal value yet he was happy not to take it.

"But your father made it," she whispered, her eyes wide, her mask slipping again.

He nodded as he considered the knife and the mark still visible on the inside of his palm. "But he made me too," he smiled. "Father would want you to keep it. It has to stay yours for the rest of your life," he told her firmly. "You need to keep it close and start using it."

"I'm not wearing it on my hip," she shook her head. "I might lose it or damage it. It can live in my quarters and then you can visit it whenever you want," she decided. He nodded, appreciating the compromise that made her feel better about keeping it. "Not that you can visit it any random time of the day," she added after a beat. "Let me know ahead of time."

He smiled at her joke, though, he realised, he'd never seen inside her quarters here in the Facility. He imagined there was little outside of the basics of life: clothes, computer pads and probably an extra blanket for her bed because she liked keeping warm despite barely feeling the cold. Though, if she'd retrieved things from her past outside of clothes and weapons, then maybe she had some other old things she might display in her quarters.

"You get to walk in here any random time of the day," he pointed out, restarting the banter.

"That's because you're all weak and need my help," she replied with clear pleasure.

He wished it wasn't such a successful trigger for her to so knowingly jab. "Not for much longer," he stressed. "I'm getting stronger every day."

"I know," she rolled her eyes as she leaned back in her chair, properly relaxing now. "Soon you'll be back to ripping heads of Wraith and throwing yourself into mortal danger without thought again."

"Exactly," he confirmed, ignoring her insult. He didn't do anything without thought.

"Not sure why I decided to make friends with people so willing to get themselves killed," she muttered with a touch of bitterness. He had to smile at her clear annoyance that, now she had true friends around her, that they could be putting themselves in danger. Or perhaps it was her Security Lead mindset objecting to the fact.

He set her guardian knife back down on the rag it had been wrapped in and idly picked up one corner of the fabric to brush his own faint palm-print off the blacksmith's mark.

"I should probably give it a good clean after all these years," Seeal considered.

"I can clean it for you," he offered immediately. "There's a good mixture I use for my weapons. Gets all kinds of grime off."

Her eyes met his. "'Grime' as in Wraith blood?"

"Among other things," he looked away towards the long jump, realising that they'd completely missed the end of the semi-final.

Over the years he'd cleaned all manner of gunk off his weapons, holsters, and out from under his own nails. He'd fought Wraith in muddy bogs, fallen down various banks and dunes, battled hours in a knee-deep swamp once, and almost been crushed into the wet bloodied ground outside a stone castle. It had taken him days to get that thick sticky mud out of the folds of his holster and the grooves of the handle of a knife.

He dropped his eyes back down to father's creation in his hands. There was an old Xinda saying that 'eventually all mud dried free'. Recruits repeated it in training though various dirty assault courses and mock battles, but the saying had a deeper meaning, that eventually time cleaned away wounds and traumas. He'd never really believed that, but now, holding Father's sign in his hands...

Any other day he'd never admit he believed in things like ghosts or souls existing after death, but now...

Now, something deep inside him – something old and innocent – whispered of magical things that existed outside of his life of a never-ending battle against the Wraith.

That somewhere, somehow, his family still existed and that they had come to help him when he'd needed them.

That he wasn't alone anymore.

0000
TBC