When John and Rodney got to Elizabeth's Office, Ronon and Teyla were already there. So too was the creature, sitting on Elizabeth's desk, a chess piece sticking out of its mouth like a cigar.
Elizabeth sat motionless in her chair, but it was clear she would have rather been somewhere much farther away from the creature, which had evidently been around the room a couple of times like a tiny tornado, for the few decorations and furnishings in the office had all been overturned. But what was Elizabeth going to do about it? She didn't carry a firearm or keep one in her office.
Now the creature sat upright like a contemplative monkey, chewing on a rook and eyeing them all speculatively. It looked different to John, though at first he couldn't quite pinpoint why. Was it because it was sitting up instead of being hunched over? The fact that its long tail was dangling over the side of the desk? No, it was the ears, he decided. They were pointed, but he could've sworn they were round earlier. And the snout didn't look quite so long as before either. The eye rims had a reddish tinge he hadn't noticed previously, but that might have been the angle.
"I asked her if I could shoot it," Ronon reported to John with obvious annoyance, "She said no."
"No one is going to shoot anything here and now," Elizabeth said firmly.
"Elizabeth, that thing is totally Evil," Rodney objected, stepping into the room and towards her to debate this, then stopping when the creature lifted its head to glare at him, "It wants us dead."
"We don't know that," Elizabeth replied calmly.
"Elizabeth, this is no time to be open-minded!" Rodney argued, eyes warily on the creature.
"I disagree," Elizabeth told him, "This creature may be as innocent as you or I. There's no proof it came here of its own volition, or that it's remotely capable of causing the technical difficulties we've been having throughout the city."
"It looks like a bit rat to me," Ronon put in, "I still want to shoot it though."
"No," Elizabeth commanded emphatically, locking eyes with him for a moment, "Not until we know more or it does something provocative."
"You mean besides wrecking your office?" John asked, speaking for the first time.
"I was present when it did this," Teyla offered, "It seemed merely to be excited and curious, exploring recklessly but not with genuine hostility."
"Well good for it," John grumbled, "It's still evil."
"Agreed," Rodney said quickly.
The looks traded between Teyla, Ronon and Elizabeth were not missed by John.
"What's the basis of your claim?" Elizabeth asked patiently.
"That it's evil?" John said, "Well… uh… it's because..." he looked at Rodney.
"Because it is," Rodney concluded, "Have you seen what's happened with this city since that thing got here? You're telling me that's coincidence? Come on, Elizabeth."
"I didn't say it was coincidence," Elizabeth replied, unruffled by Rodney's typically abrasive manner, "I'm only suggesting that you might be leaping to conclusions a little too quickly," she turned her head, meeting John's eyes, "You too, Colonel."
"Do you even hear yourself?" John demanded before he could stop himself.
"Do you?" Elizabeth inquired passively.
John did hear how he sounded. And a part of him knew Elizabeth was right. But a part of him also knew that this wasn't just some sort of confused mammal caught up in the machinations of some incorporeal entity taking over the systems in Atlantis one by one. This was the cause, sitting here and now on Elizabeth's desk. And it was no mere animal. Those eyes sparkled with unspeakable horror, but also a discernible intelligence. Why could only he and Rodney see that?
Suddenly, the creature dropped the chess piece, sprang off the desk and bolted for the door.
"Stop it!" John cried.
Ronon was already pulling out his magnum before the first word left John's mouth, firing it by the time he'd finished speaking. Rodney lunged out of both the creature's path and the potential line of fire before Ronon got a second shot off. But the creature bolted past John, skittered under the railing of the walkway connecting the office to the operations room, and swung underneath.
John raced to the edge and peered over, trying to get another glimpse of the thing.
"Did you hit it?" John asked, frustrated by the fact that the creature had evaded them yet again.
"Did it stop?" Ronon retorted.
"How could you miss at that range?" John demanded, for even though the creature had moved fast, it hadn't been that fast. Not faster than Ronon, surely.
"I don't know," Ronon admitted, sounding rather angry about it.
"Well where did it go?" Rodney broke in, looking over the opposite side of the walkway from John.
"I don't see it," John said, "Do you?"
"No!" Rodney spat irritably, "That would be why I asked where it went."
It was along about this time that the high-pitched cackling started. The sound was chilling, though it took John a moment to find where it was coming from. The PA system. Naturally. It rang eerily through the air for several seconds, a horribly inhuman sound that came from everywhere and nowhere, before it suddenly stopped, leaving an even more unsettling silence in its wake.
"Dammit," John hissed, "We lost it again," he turned to address Ronon, though the words were more meant for Elizabeth, "Next time I say to shoot it, do that."
"I did!" Ronon growled.
"Yeah? Well you didn't do a very good job," John said.
"Please," Teyla intervened tactfully, stepping between the two bristling men, "We are all exhausted. None of us has eaten or stopped to rest in many hours. It will do us no good to turn on one another."
She was right, of course. But John wanted to hit something. He wanted to be doing something. So far, he'd run all over Atlantis, accomplishing nothing, while this thing took apart his home and endangered the people he was sworn to protect. And, for whatever reason, only he and Rodney seemed to genuinely see it that way. Nobody else seemed capable of equating the creature with…
"None of you have the ATA gene," Rodney spoke suddenly.
"We know that, Rodney," Elizabeth replied patiently.
"That's why you don't see it," Rodney said, "Now it all makes sense."
"Does it?" Ronon asked, more than a little sarcastically.
"No, Rodney's got a point," John agreed, "So far, this thing has gone after Ancient tech, and only Ancient tech. Maybe this is a part of how it works."
"It did seem to think it was pretty funny that we were arguing," Rodney recalled, "Like maybe it was hoping we'd turn on each other. People without the gene do outnumber those with it, even here."
"But it realized we weren't going there," John said, "So it took off. And then it laughed at us," he turned to Rodney, "You were right; it is toying with us."
"But what is it?" Teyla asked gently.
"And what does it want?" Ronon put in.
"Evil, is what it is," John answered at the same time as Rodney said, "It wants us all dead."
"You both seem very sure of that," Elizabeth remarked, "But don't you think it's a bit of a leap? Disruption is one thing, killing is quite another, particularly as a chief motivation."
"If you could feel its presence the way we do, you wouldn't ask that," John supplied for both of them.
"Assuming that is so, how are we to stop it?" Teyla asked, "Its actions have been quite unpredictable, and we have had no success in following it once it leaves our sight. It seems to simply appear and disappear at random."
"No," Rodney said after a moment's consideration, "Not random. There's a pattern."
"I do not see it," Teyla admitted when Rodney failed to explain himself.
Rodney shook his head, muttering absently to himself, "Gate Room, Mess Hall, Transporter, Botany Lab, Elizabeth's Office… the Jumper Bay..."
"It's us," John realized suddenly, seeing it all, "It showed itself first to three people with the ATA gene. And then to three people without it, where it knew some number of the first three would come because we were searching for it. It wanted to see what would happen. It was there because we were there."
"That doesn't tell us much about where it's going next," Ronon grunted after they'd chewed on that for a moment, "There's people with and without the ATA gene everywhere."
"No kidding," John sighed.
"Colonel Sheppard," this time it was Major Dorsey, who continued after John's acknowledgment, "Sir, something's been in the food stores. There's dumped containers, broken bottles, spilled powders and liquids everywhere. It's a real mess down here."
"Oh great. If it can't get us to fight each other, it's just going to make sure we starve to death," Rodney groaned, "Wonderful," he turned more harshly on Elizabeth than he normally would have, the threat of imminent starvation making him more irascible than usual, "Still think it's not trying to kill us?"
"Rodney," Teyla rebuked him, then added more gently, "It is not uncommon for creatures to get into food stores and ruin them. It is not a sign of hostile intent. It is a sign of hunger."
"Good news, Rodney," John offered with a sarcastic grin, "At least it doesn't want to eat us."
"Yet," Rodney grumbled darkly.
"How did it get down there so fast?" Ronon wanted to know.
"It probably didn't," John replied, "It was probably in there earlier, before we ever found it."
"No, that is not possible," Teyla said, "Ronon and I were searching the food storage rooms when we received the call from Dr. Weir. They were quite intact."
The change in ear shape suddenly made sense to John, "There's more than one of 'em."
"What?" Rodney practically yelped.
"There has to be. There's no way it got from here to there and had time to wreck food storage and get out before Dorsey's team got there. Besides, this one looked different from the one I saw earlier."
Rodney looked about ready to burst a blood vessel as he said, "And you didn't think to mention this?"
"I only caught a glimpse of it," John replied heatedly, "I thought maybe I didn't remember what I saw quite right. But it seems like we've got at least two. One with round ears and one with pointed ones."
"Oh," Rodney sighed unhappily, and repeated himself, "Wonderful."
With a sardonic note in his voice, John replied, "Yeah. Merry Christmas," he exhaled loudly and inquired, "Who wants to bet this is gonna be a long night?"
"Ow!" Lorne cried out, "Cut it out!" He gingerly raised a hand to check his nose for damage and blinked away the pain spots that had appeared in his vision when Souci's elbow connected after her wild gesturing to make a point had gotten out of hand.
That drew the argument to a screeching halt. Souci apologized, Lorne told her not to worry about it, Helton threatened to get up and examine him, but Lorne dismissed the doctor's concerns on that point and then a frigid silence descended that had nothing to do with the outside temperature.
Lorne knew that was no good. They were stuck in this together until it was over, and people could use silence to build up a reserve of anger and frustration, simmering in it until it all blew out at the worst possible moment. The arguing wasn't helpful, but the icy silence in this confined space where they had nothing to do except resent each other and their shared situation was far worse.
He had to say something, but he was tired and only one thing came to mind and, considering earlier conversations, he wasn't sure it was an ideal subject. He decided to say it anyway, "I used to go to my grandparents' for Christmas Eve. My grandmother always had the TV on, turned to the news. CNN. All the time. Couldn't bear to turn it off, even on Christmas Eve. She did make one concession though. She'd put it on mute, and turn on Christmas music for sound. Nat King Cole, Bing Crosby. My sister and I hated it," Lorne paused uncertainly, "But we hated listening to the newscasters even more. So my sister would lie on the floor with her coloring book, and I'd play cards with my grandfather. Then chess, once I got older, and my sister had taken up a sketch book. My grandmother would be in the kitchen cooking. Wouldn't let anyone in to help, no matter how many times we asked. Begged, really," he smiled a bit, adding, "I think she knew we just wanted to eat the marshmallows off the sweet potatoes. After dinner, we'd all go back to the living room. Usually my sister and I would have a drawing contest. Santa, a Christmas tree, it didn't really matter. Grandparents make lousy judges: they never pick a favorite. My grandfather would read the paper, and my grandmother would fold clothes... I always thought that was kinda strange. Folding clothes on Christmas Eve..." he trailed off, not sure where else he could go with this anecdote, unsure why he'd even picked it.
"And so you decided to crash a puddle jumper in a swamp," Helton supplied helpfully, "So you could be the weirdest member of your family."
Lorne grinned wryly, "Yeah, I guess I did."
"Do you still do that?" Janella asked hesitantly, "When you're on Earth for Christmas, I mean?"
"No," Lorne sighed, "No, they don't live independently anymore. I visit them when I can… but usually my parents are visit them around Christmas," he stopped, not wanting to delve into that, deciding to conclude with, "So I go to my sister's, hang out with her kids."
Maybe the others heard what he didn't say, maybe not. But they didn't ask. After an unquestioned number of seconds had passed, Souci spoke, sounding almost surprised to be doing so.
"Scott, my-ex," Souci began, "He always said the holidays were actually an excuse to watch football. Football's practically a religion in Texas. Especially in Lubbock, because anything is better than going outside. Lubbock weather is so miserable..." she stopped, relocating the thread she'd started with, "Scott would say things like 'if it hasn't got a longhorn on it, why bother even putting it on the tree?' Turns out, he had a point. Football had meaning in our house, fathers and sons and aunts and cousins got together and had a good time reminiscing about old football games and making new memories, but Christmas was just another commercial holiday. We only decorated because it was expected, gave gifts because it was expected, sent cards, sang carols..." she shrugged, and they all felt it when she did.
Not what Lorne had hoped for, but his account had been tinged with a bit of bitterness too, hadn't it? Anyway, he could feel the mood around him slowly defrosting, and that was the really important thing.
"Whenever we went to visit my parents," Souci went on, "We'd all sit around a dying tree, making up compliments about the ugly sweaters granny had knitted for us and pretending we couldn't hear my mom and Scott arguing about politics in the kitchen. My mother has two passions: seafood and politics. Since Scott wasn't interested in cooking, that left only one subject. And since neither could stand to ever be wrong about anything and they had opposing views..." after an uncertain pause, she continued, "My family loved it when I divorced him. Said they'd known all along he was no good for me… and then they started asking me when I was going to move back to Corpus. They were not thrilled to hear I was taking a new job far, far away from Texas, football or seafood." Or them, she didn't quite say.
A certain awkwardness manifested. Nobody knew where to go from here. Janella decided to speak next. Lorne supposed he shouldn't be surprised. She and Souci were friends, after all, and the current silence probably made Souci feel a little embarrassed to have been the cause.
"My parents, well they had this thing. They wanted three kids, but couldn't have kids of their own. So they would look for kids to adopt. Somehow it always worked out that we'd come home to them around Christmas. First me, then my two little brothers," she smiled gently, "They were so good to us. Them and my mother's parents, who lived with us. I learned to crochet from my grandmother, and ride horses from my grandfather. There was nothing he didn't know about horses, especially racehorses."
They all heard a 'but' coming, though it took her several seconds to gather herself and get there.
"But their standards were high. We weren't punished or anything like that if we weren't straight A students, but… we could feel it. They wanted the best for us, and for us to be the best, because it was a reflection on their parenting if we weren't. My parents are perfectionists. Everything they do is careful and exact. You could see in their eyes if a present wasn't wrapped quite well enough, or wasn't as well thought out as you'd imagined when you got it. When I got the offer to come to Atlantis, I knew it was the highest achievement I could ever have, more than any of the degrees I'd brought home. And I knew," she sighed wistfully, "That they would never know. I'm glad I couldn't go home last Christmas, or this one. I don't think I could bear to see their disappointment."
Saying nothing, Reed put his arm around her and held her close, and Lorne was fairly certain that she was crying into his shoulder. Lorne definitely hadn't meant to make her cry. He hadn't meant to make anyone cry. He'd just been trying to get them off the topic of hating one another, and Christmas had been the only thing he could think of. Now he wasn't sure if they might not have been better off in the stiff, cold silence.