A/N: Now you get to find out that John is a ... nope, not yet. :)
Chapter 12
Carson was leaving the infirmary at a decent hour for a change and was heading for the cafeteria when a voice from behind stopped him cold.
"Ah, Doctor. Won't you walk with me?"
Carson turned and saw Kolya actually leaning rather nonchalantly against the wall – he never looked that direction when he left the infirmary. His gut churned as he spotted the two armed men with him and he knew he had no choice in the matter. "Certainly, colonel," he replied.
Kolya pushed away from the wall and they headed down the long hallway that ran nearly the entire western length of Atlantis. "Dr. Chaya came to me this afternoon, quite upset. Raving, even."
"Figured she would," Carson said somewhat under his breath. He glanced nervously at the two men who fell into place behind them. One was Lt. Ford, and he felt his heart break just a tiny bit. He was a good kid, but he had terrible choice in role models. The other was Sgt. Bates, one of Kolya's more die-hard followers.
Kolya chuckled. "Yes. I didn't think too much of it – she can be rather demanding and melodramatic at times."
If that was meant to put him at ease, it failed miserably. "'Demanding' isn't the word I'd use," Carson said. Daft bugger, maybe, he thought to himself. Crazy as a shit house rat, for another….
"She made the accusation that you have been stealing her data." Kolya watched Carson out of the corner of his eye, and when the doctor didn't reply he gave what would have been a reassuring smile from anyone else. "You have nothing to worry about from me, Carson. Actually, I am pleased you've been examining the data from her work. You are a highly respected geneticist – I would be very interested to hear what you have to say about the specimens Dr. Chaya has been working with."
Carson drew his lips in and remained silent.
"I am especially interested in your opinion on the newest one."
Carson stopped abruptly, and Kolya went a few more steps before he stopped, too, and turned to face him. Carson ran a hand down his face and held it over his mouth for a moment. "If you're wanting me to say 'he isn't human, just an animal so go ahead and do what yae want', I'm not going to. And never will." He watched Kolya's eyes narrow briefly. "But I will tell yae he isn't like the first three Dr. Chaya chopped to pieces."
"It's not a lycanthrope?" Kolya asked, his dark eyes shining with interest. "What is it, then?"
"I have no bloidy idea," Carson snapped back. That 'it' thing really pissed him off. "I believe he is a shape-shifter, like you both obviously think he is, but what he turns into I haven't a clue. And he shares some genetic markers with the woman that you kidnapped last month. Whatever she is."
"Really? So, it is something completely new," Kolya said more to himself than to Carson. "Fascinating. Thank you, Doctor. I will be sure to point out your findings to Dr. Chaya. She may set aside her anger with you long enough to consider them. This may even point her studies into an entirely new direction." He nodded to Carson then started to walk away, but paused and turned back briefly. "I will make sure you are credited for your findings." Then he turned down the hall that led to the atrium.
Ford and Bates pushed past Carson to follow Kolya. Carson didn't notice their rudeness – he felt cold inside and close to vomiting. He ran his hand back down his face and found a light sheen of sweat there. It didn't surprise him. The thought of his name associated with anything those two were doing left him feeling slimy and hollow inside, like a forgotten jack-o'-lantern two weeks after Halloween. He got his feet moving again, but since his appetite was now long gone he just took an elevator up to his floor instead.
-oOo-
John managed to make it nearly to five-thirty, local time, before he woke up. At least this morning he had something he could do – after dinner Zelenka, of all people, managed to hook him up with a duffle bag, some sweats, and a pair of running shoes, his size, and still in their box. Rodney made the comment that it had something to do with early imprinting in the Black Market, but Zelenka countered it was just because people liked him. John was really starting to like the little Czech. McKay – eh, he wasn't too sure, yet. Sometimes he wanted to just smack him upside the back of his head, but from what he understood that was how most people felt about him. But he was amusing in a hyperactive, spastic kind of way. So he packed up his borrowed stuff and headed down to the gym with his perpetual shadows.
He was on one of the treadmills, the last in a line of other occupied ones, and nearly done with his eight mile run and completely lost in the zone when the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He glanced to the right and saw Chaya decked out in her own workout gear, watching him, a predatory smile lighting her face. He nearly lost his rhythm and came close to flying backwards off the treadmill. He barely caught the rail and started slowing the speed down. "What do you want?" he gritted out through his teeth.
"It is good to see you take care of yourself, Forty-seven," Chaya said and walked around behind him. "Health is so important."
"My name is John," he said angrily between pants as he tried to keep an eye on her. He wanted to add you crazy fucking bitch to that statement but he was concentrating on cooling down. She came back into view on his left, and he glared at her. His two shadows were in that direction as well, and he could see them tensing behind her. "John. One syllable – easy to remember."
Chaya made an amused little hmm and stopped right next to the treadmill. She ran her hand along the rail distractedly. "Yes. Well, I knew a researcher who made a point of naming each and every one of his lab monkeys, but in the end he still dissected them."
Now John did come off the treadmill with a fairly graceful hop. He just stood there, staring at her, his mouth open as he gasped for breath. "Jesus, you're … you're cold." The other joggers in the line were watching now.
Chaya stiffened a little, then frowned. She took a step closer to him, and John didn't hesitate retreating a step. His back came up against the front of an elliptical machine and stopped him dead. She noticed, and the predatory smile slowly returned to her face. She reached out and ran a finger down John's chest, and he flinched away from her touch. "I will see you later, Forty-seven." She turned and walked away, a sway in her hips that would have been seductive any other time. Now it was just outright creepy.
A couple of the other joggers stood on the sides of their treadmills, their expressions damn near as horrified as John's. He shut his machine down, then spent the next ten minutes pacing around the room to cool off. His guards stayed within sight, their expressions nearly as freaked out as his. He wiped sweat from his face with the hem of his t-shirt as he walked. He was jittery inside, and it wasn't from fatigue, and at one point he was sure he was going to puke again. But it eventually passed into a terrified numbness that gripped his brain and made one thought sit there and repeat itself over and over again: get out. NOW.
-oOo-
John was still numb as he tried to eat his breakfast. He was alone at the table in the back corner for awhile, picking at his food halfheartedly and ignoring the other diners. He couldn't look at them too long because they all had the exact same expression on their faces as they regarded him this morning: pity. So he kept his head down until he felt people approaching. He looked up and saw Ronon and Keller. The doctor had a smile on her face, but it suddenly disappeared. Ronon even drew his head back a little and his eyebrows shot up briefly, then they were sitting their trays down. "Hey," John said and offered a smile that was nothing more than a quick twitch of the corner of his mouth. Beyond them he could see the two guards talking quietly to Lorne. He dropped his gaze back to his half eaten breakfast.
"John? What's wrong?" Keller asked as she reached across the table and put her hand over his.
He drew his hand back and put his forearm on the table between him and his tray. He didn't say anything for fear of it coming out in a crazy laugh. Then Lorne was sitting down next to him, and he could feel the anger boiling off the man. That helped with the focus.
"You should have said something to me the second that happened," Lorne said through his teeth.
John shrugged like it was nothing. "Sorry, Major – figured your boys would report it."
"What?" Ronon asked.
"Ran into psycho Barbie in the gym," John said softly.
"Shit," Keller muttered, and everyone except John looked at her. "What happened?"
Since it was obvious John wasn't going to elaborate, Lorne repeated what his men told him just a second ago. Now a horrified silence fell over the table.
"She's cracked," Ronon muttered as he shook his head.
"Ya think?" Keller supplied. She picked up her tea and held it tightly between both hands like it was a mint scented life preserver.
She had mixed it pretty strong, and John was finding it was making him a little light headed. He leaned back in his chair, his appetite officially dead, and rubbed his nose.
"I think it would probably be best if you stayed in your room for the rest of the day," Lorne said.
Oh, great – make me feel even more trapped, John thought to himself. "So, really want me to go stir crazy, huh?" he blurted out. "Gee, thanks."
Lorne's mouth clamped down into that tight line. "Look – I'm trying to keep you alive here, Sheppard. So can the fucking attitude."
John drew his head back. Then he lowered his head and nodded. He rubbed his hand across his mouth and leaned his forearms back on the table. "I think the other boot finally dropped."
"Not yet, it hasn't," Lorne replied. "Not as long you're still allowed to roam." He glanced down the table to Ronon. "Can you keep him company today? Keep him occupied so he doesn't do something stupid?" John's head jerked up and he frowned at Lorne.
"Sure," Ronon replied with a smirk. "I'm supposed to train some of the Marines this afternoon on advanced hand-to-hand. Want me to cancel?"
Lorne thought about it. "No, keep that for now. I'll find someone else for the afternoon shift."
"I don't need a babysitter," John growled.
"I'm doing this to keep you alive," Lorne said softly. "But so help me, God – if you do something to jeopardize things, I will personally kick your ass. And what's left I'll give to Ronon."
Ronon grinned.
"All right, all right," John said. It was getting harder and harder to stay pissed – the genuine concern he could feel from all of them was really touching. He chuffed and shook his head, and when he looked up he saw Keller smiling at him. "They always this bossy?"
"Not really," she replied and sipped some tea. "Only when they're worried." When the two men frowned at her she rolled her eyes. "Oh, please – you two are so predictable. I'm surprised you both don't beat your chests and grunt when you get into 'overprotective' mode."
John had to draw his lips in to keep from grinning as the two continued to stare at her. Then Ronon broke the silence by thumping his chest a couple times and going ook ook before digging into his breakfast. He seemed to be having a hard time chewing around his shit-eating grin.
Keller's hand came up. "See, told you."
John chuckled. "Thanks," he said to them all. He picked up his fork and decided he could finish his breakfast after all.
-oOo-
Since John didn't want to spend the entire time locked in his room, Ronon dragged him to the gym and they played one-on-one until his legs were rubber and he was ready to drop. Then they played horse and even managed to drag the guards in on it. John was so tired he couldn't hit anything, then he did have to go back to his room to shower and change before lunch. Rodney and Zelenka joined them, and after lunch he found out they drew the afternoon shift.
"How are you with a wrench?" Zelenka asked him as they left the mess.
"I'm competent," John replied. "Keep my truck and well pump running, no problems."
Rodney snorted and Zelenka pushed his glasses up. "Well, what we have is much more complicated than that, but another pair of hands is always a help."
They entered an elevator, and this time they went down a couple levels. The corridor looked just the same as every other so far, and as they followed it down and around a corner John could pick up the scent of solvents and oil and other chemicals. It made him sneeze a couple of times, and Rodney flinched away from him. "Sorry," he said and rubbed his nose. "Think I passed through something I was allergic to."
"Huh," Rodney said. "I can understand that."
They stopped in front of an extra-wide door and Rodney keyed it open. He made the two guards stay outside, but they didn't seem to mind. They stepped into a sizeable room, and sitting on a stand was what looked to John to be an aircraft engine. A really weird aircraft engine that was the size of a Mini Cooper. "Cool," John said as he walked over to it and around it.
"Careful," Rodney said with a twitch and grimace.
John jumped back, and glanced at him worriedly.
Zelenka sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's fine. He's just paranoid when it comes to his toys." He motioned John over to a rolling work bench and handed him a very recognizable socket wrench. "Help me get cover off." While they did that Rodney began attaching computer leads to a section in front and started a diagnostic program.
"So, what is this?" John asked as he and Zelenka loosened bolts.
"It's an engine from an … um, ah, can't tell you that," Rodney said and grimaced.
"Oh, more of them," John said and rolled his eyes that time. He saw Zelenka smirk.
John spent most of the afternoon just sitting on a stool out of the way and only occasionally helping with some of the heavy labor. It was fun watching the two men work together – Rodney with his superior attitude being matched snark for snark by Zelenka. Even when the Czech was reduced to arguing in his native language, it still didn't stop Rodney from arguing right back. He could sense a rivalry between them, but it wasn't bitter. It was more like a couple of siblings than anything else, and whenever it did start to move into hostile territory Zelenka could turn it with a few deft insults or jokes and they'd be back on track.
John should have realized sooner the little scientist was empathic.
The only light in the room seemed to be focused on the mystery engine and where John sat was partly in shadow. At one point Rodney glanced over at him and flinched noticeably – the man's wide pupils were reflecting blue-green in the dim light. He even did a double take. "Um, could you not do that? You're creeping me out," he snapped at John.
John frowned faintly. "Do what?" he asked. He saw Zelenka look at him as well and start faintly.
Rodney pointed spastically at his own eyes. "That – that reflection thing."
Now the corner of John's mouth twitched. "Sorry, kinda involuntary there."
"Huh," Rodney replied. He returned his focus to his tablet, but kept glancing at John. "Kind of like the hair?" he finally said after a minute.
"Yeah, McKay – kind of like the hair," John growled.
"Just wondering." And that was all Rodney said about the subject.
They worked steady – well, the two scientists worked steady, John watched but surprisingly wasn't bored – until six, then went to dinner. They had their usual crowd at the back table with the addition of Carson. John noted the man looked absolutely exhausted, but he put up a front for everyone. Conversation was rather subdued, especially from John – he felt about as exhausted as the doctor looked from his run, the basketball, and jangled nerves. He excused himself shortly after he finished his dessert.
"You going back to your room?" Lorne asked threateningly.
"Yes, major – I'm going back to my room. I'm beat." In more ways than one, he added mentally. "See you in the morning," he said and waved at them as he left. He tried his best to ignore the looks people gave him as he walked through the mess, but he couldn't block the feelings coming off of them. That and the smell – all of Atlantis seemed to be permeated by an undercurrent of sweat and adrenaline today. It reeked of fear. That made his legs weaker than they already were, and he didn't think crawling under a table would be acceptable behavior. He really did return to his room, and he just flopped down face first across the bed. Ten minutes later he was out like a light.
And five hours later he was wide awake. He got up, used the bathroom, and shoved the Powerbars he'd been collecting at every meal into the big pockets on his thighs. He grabbed one of the jackets and put it on, then opened the door. The two guards frowned at him. "I can't sleep," John said as he ran a hand through his messier than normal hair and scratched his scalp. "Mind if we run down to the library for a minute so I can find something to read?" He rubbed his arms then like he was cold then zipped up the jacket.
"No, not at all," one of the men said and they headed down the hall.
They encountered a few people, but mainly in the atrium, and those were heading into the mess for a midnight snack or coffee. There wasn't a soul in the library, and the second the doors slid shut John spun and bounced one man hard off the wall. He hadn't even slumped to the ground before John caught the other with a cross that damn near broke his jaw. He went down, but the first was still stirring. Two quick jabs left him motionless.
John took one of the P90's and a knife from the guards, then pulled the belt off of the closer one. After firing a quick burst into the door controls, he ran over to one of the chairs and dragged it over to the bookshelf that sat below the air vent that brought in the smell of pine and the sea. Standing on the back of the chair, he levered the grate of the vent open in two spots with the knife, threaded the belt through the top opening and caught it with his fingers on the bottom, and with one foot braced against the shelf yanked the thing completely off the wall. He about fell over backwards when the thing ripped free with a screech and he flung it away with the belt. He turned the flashlight on the P90 on briefly and shone it down the duct. It was going to be a tight squeeze, but he knew he could fit.
John dropped the P90, and using the shelves as a ladder he crawled into the vent. He wouldn't need the flashlight – he just planned on following his nose.
End Note: (Author grabs a cat in each hand to use as a pom-pom.) GO, JOHN GO! GO, JOHN, GO:)
