Disclaimer: the Stargate Atlantis characters are not mine, etc. etc. And now... back to our story:

Tosia, always a light sleeper, woke with a start at the sound of a strangled cry. She sat up so quickly her spine twinged in protest, and her hips complained with their familiar ache. Fumbling for her light, one of the few luxuries she had found from her old life, she switched it on, and carrying it with her, stumbled to the main room where they had left the stranger to rest.

The pallet on which he had been laying was empty. He was gone.

Tosia was about to call for Lasca when she spotted him. The stranger had huddled in the corner by the cold hearth, his knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. Even from a distance, and with her poor eyesight, Tosia could see the tremors reverberating through his slender frame. She edged closer to him, not wishing to frighten him any further. When she reached his side, the blue-tinged light from her lamp fell on his face. The eyes she had so wanted to see were now wide open, blank with what she first assumed was terror, then after watching him for a moment, realized it was something far worse.

Tosia placed the lamp on the floor. Ignoring the ache in her hips and side, she sat beside him, gauging his reactions, but he seemed unaware of her presence. Moving her hand in cautious increments, she laid her palm on his shoulder, feeling the tremors that coursed through him. In the glow of the blue light, his eyes were a pretty shade of pale green, but there was no comprehension, nor expression in his gaze. His features were slack; lips slightly parted and damp with spittle, his breaths sharp rasps in the otherwise silent room.

Rubbing her hand on his trembling shoulder in what she hoped was a soothing motion, Tosia tried to coax the man to look at her, to respond to her, all to no avail.

John, she reminded herself, his name is John. She presumed that shepherd had been his previous station. When she positioned herself directly in front of him, his vacant gaze went right through her, as though he were staring at a place just past her left shoulder.

"John?" she tried, but there was no response to the moniker. Repeating his name in a firmer voice, Tosia took hold of his chin to turn his face toward her. He violently flinched from her insistent touch, pulling away so abruptly the back of his head thudded against the wall, a mingled sound of pain and protest escaping his lips. An arm upraised in a warding-off gesture.

"I am sorry, John," she whispered. "I did not mean to frighten you. It is all right. No harm will come to you here. It's all right…"

John did not seem to mind, or perhaps he did not notice her gentle rubbing of his shoulder and lightly muscled upper arm, so she continued that attempt to soothe him. He began to rock himself in a traumatized manner Tosia had witnessed far too many times over the years, as though the continuous movement offered him a comfort her touch couldn't provide.

However, Tosia had never before seen such reaction to the passage through the portal. It made her begin to again wonder if it were truly the instrument in bringing him here. The others, as well as Tosia, herself, had been frightened, disoriented at first from the shock of their own transition, but they'd all recovered in a matter of minutes.

Perhaps he had already been maddened before the punishment? Then she remembered how far from the cliff side she had found him, as though he had been expelled like some foul-tasting mouthful. Perhaps he had somehow been injured along the way? The fearful bleeding suggested as much, but even still, Tosia could not work her head around the possibilities…

"Is he all right?"

Tosia looked up at the sound of Lasca's concerned whisper, and then redirected her focus to John. His eyelids were heavy with exhaustion as he continued to rock. With each blink, his eyes stayed closed for longer amounts of time, but he fought against sleep, with a start, forcing the weary, hooded lids to open, his empty gaze remaining fixed on that spot behind Tosia's shoulder. She was almost tempted to look behind her, but Tosia knew whatever demons he may have beheld were not in this hut.

"No," Tosia said after a long moment, looking into those pretty, but frighteningly blank eyes. "I do not think he is all right, at all."

"What shall we do with him?" Lasca asked, her worried gaze flicking from the old woman to the stranger.

Tosia watched as John curled up in a tighter ball, gripping his legs so hard that the tendons stood out on his wrists. The tremors had eased, but he was now shivering with cold. "Bring me that blanket," Tosia said, waving an arm in the direction of the abandoned pallet.

When Lasca handed her the blanket, Tosia, careful not to startle John again, tucked its warmth as much as she could around his huddled form. He flinched, but did not pull away.

"Mother, what are we to do with him?" Lasca repeated.

"We shall keep him warm and comfortable."

"That is not what I was asking…" Lasca said, her frustration with Tosia's curt replies evident in her voice.

"That is all there is to be done," Tosia said without looking at the other woman. It was pointless to worry over matters of which one had no control. And there was nothing that could be done about John – he would recover on his own, or he would perish. It was as simple as that.

John's head began to nod, and his body slumped against the corner. He was nearly asleep once more, though he still managed to force his eyelids open from time to time, and his fingers continually twitched under the blanket.

"Go back to sleep, Lasca. I will sit with him."

Lasca nodded, though the old woman could not see her. She knew from experience there was no point in questioning Tosia when she had made up her mind. From the other room, Lasca retrieved the old woman's own blanket from her bed, returned with it, and draped it over her mother's shoulders. Tosia nodded in thanks, patted Lasca's hand and the younger woman disappeared back to her bedroom.

It took a long time, so long that Tosia's knees began to ache abominably and her hips were fiery with pain, but finally, John could no longer fight the sleep that insistently pulled him under. His chin dropped to his chest. His tight grip on his legs loosened, but his fingers continued to fidget under the blanket, plucking at the wool, as though he were still trying to claw his way back to consciousness.

He would live, or he would die, Tosia reminded herself, yet she couldn't help but admire his fortitude. She also couldn't withhold a measure of hope that he would somehow endure.

--- tbc ---