A/N: Now John finally gets to meet Elizabeth, albeit briefly.
Chapter 30
John spent ten more days in the infirmary. His fever came back and the night it spiked he shifted in the middle of a nightmare and completely ripped the railing from the right side of his bed. Teyla was present – she'd taken to sleeping in the infirmary again when the fever dreams returned – and it took her nearly an hour to get him calm enough to shift back to human. The fever finally broke, and he slept for nearly eighteen hours straight afterwards. He also had to go back to the i.v. for his meals since he couldn't keep anything in his system after that last bout of antibiotics. And to top it all off he had to go back to a floppy gown, but he was so weak he didn't care. It made the accidents easier to clean up.
It was late one night shortly after the fever broke, the lights in the infirmary were dim, and John was actually too tired to sleep when he felt someone approach his little curtained off 'room'. He recognized the scent – up until two days ago the person had been the only other constant presence in the infirmary besides the staff and Teyla. She stood outside for several minutes, then a moment later he heard a quiet sigh just before a dark haired woman stepped through the curtain and smiled faintly at him. She was still painfully thin, and underneath her own natural thunderstorm scent was the faint chemical tang of a recovering junkie. "Hello, John," she said in a surprisingly strong voice. "I thought it was about time I introduced myself, since we were roomies for awhile." John felt the corner of his mouth twitch up, and hers rose in reply. "Elizabeth Weir," she said and held out her hand.
"Heard your name mentioned once or twice. Nice to finally meet you." John offered a weak smile and grasped her hand briefly. His hand felt like it was on fire compared to hers.
"Believe me when I say if I had been in my right mind…." She pushed her long sleeves up on both of her arms and showed him the healed needle marks. "Absolutely none of this would have happened to you." He words were soft, controlled, but she was shaking and the anger and indignity rolling off of her made John break out in a sweat. "Seems we've both been victims of Kolya's madness." She pushed her sleeves back down and crossed her arms. "I've been told you … stopped him."
John had to close his eyes as his own emotions roiled just underneath the surface before he nodded. Then Elizabeth's scent grew stronger, and a second later he felt lips very lightly brush his temple.
"Thank you," she said, and when John finally opened his eyes, she was gone. He slept after that, but his nightmares had a new person in them, sharing his hell.
-oOo-
Once he was able to get on real, solid food he improved quickly, and at every meal he always seemed to have someone sitting with him and munching away on their own snack, be it staff or visitors. The tradition continued even after he was released from the infirmary. Someone was always knocking on his door, seeing if he was hungry and wanted to join them, and if he went early to the mess it was like an APB would go out, and pretty soon there'd be someone sitting down at the table with him. Usually first to arrive was either Lorne or Ronon, shortly followed by Zelenka and Teyla. That made him wonder if something was going on between them, and the one time he raised an eyebrow at Teyla, all he heard was her musical laughter float through his head. And Radek blushed. Turned out she had been teaching him techniques to channel and block his empathic abilities. Nothing scandalous. Shortly after those two would sit, Keller would mosey on in if she wasn't already with Ronon. And always the last to arrive were Rodney and Carson. A couple of times O'Neill even joined them, usually with Elizabeth in tow. Meals grew into two hour long affairs by the time everyone started picking up long since empty trays and going their separate ways. And full of a lot of laughter, too, usually at Rodney's expense. O'Neill was starting to run out of McSomething names to call him, so the rest of them started giving suggestions. Rodney grumbled, and snapped and snarked back, but John could tell it was without any real anger.
The rest of the time John spent alone in his room, resting. He was still really weak, and it didn't take much to wear him out. But someone had slipped into his room the first day and hooked up a DVD player to the plasma screen and left all four seasons of Battlestar, and some smart-ass left all three Spider-Man movies. So he spent some time getting caught up, and one night he had a full room for an impromptu favorite episode marathon after dinner. People brought snacks, and Carson frowned at the beer Ronon put in John's hand, but he didn't object. It turned out not to be such a good idea, because John nodded off shortly after he finished it. When he woke up after his short nap, everyone was still there, completely engrossed in the show.
Ronon smirked over at him when he saw John was awake. "Pussy," he said.
Everyone sucked in a breath and the room got very still.
John just casually shrugged. "Well, duh."
Laughter drowned out the show for a good ten minutes.
-oOo-
It was a week later, and almost one full month since John came to Atlantis, when he stepped out of the elevator on SL2 and glanced around cautiously. Two scientists nodded at him as they walked on by, and one of Lorne's men gave him a once over as he stepped out of security, but no one seemed to care he was on this level. With his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, he slowly retraced his path from that God awful night. The distance was a lot longer than he remembered, and as he got to that last long straight stretch he could faintly smell fresh paint and wallpaper glue. He ran his hand along the wall, the tips of his fingers feeling the bumps and seams when he came to the new sections. He glanced briefly down the hallway to his left where Ronon shoved him and Lorne as he passed on by, then a moment later he was rounding the corner. The entrance to the green house was a lot farther along the wall than he recalled, and when he glanced down at the floor he saw some deep scratches that weren't completely buffed out of the floor yet. And some faint stains.
He lifted his head, his lips drawn in and eyebrows furrowed, then ran his hand down the door controls. He remembered the scent that hit him full in the face, and he took in a deep, deep breath and stepped inside. He certainly didn't recall the little tiled entryway, or the workstations that went off to the right and left of it, but he remembered the stone path. As he stepped forward he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned a little too quickly. It was a tall skinny fellow in a lab coat with dirt smudges on it, and he jumped, but then he just smiled at John. "Going for a walk?" John just nodded, his heart thudding crazily in his chest. "Okay. Please stay on the path."
"Okay," John replied. He did, and about twenty feet in looked up. The greenhouse was three stories high, the peak of the glass maybe making it four. There were three distinct levels, the uppermost ones large flat suspended trays that had to be hydroponics units with walkways threading between them. Large lights hung underneath those and filled the huge room with artificial sunlight that he swore was as warm on his face as the real thing. The place was a riot of plant life, and the smell was absolutely wonderful.
He followed the right-hand path, and when he came around one particular bend his stomach fluttered. But the paving stones had been replaced and there was no way to tell that that was where he ripped Kolya's heart out. He continued on, and roughly a third of the way down the length of the football field sized room he found the tree he was looking for – the bark was still noticeably scored from his claws.
John glanced around, and as far as he could tell he was alone. He took his jacket off, folded it neatly, and sat it on the lip of the raised bed. Then he took off his socks and shoes. He was wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants – he'd lost enough weight that his loaner pants no longer fit, and a belt was out of the question since any pressure on his gut still hurt like hell. He shifted, took a second to catch his breath, then stepped lightly through the bed and climbed up the tree. The claw on his left index finger was still short and very tender and he had to make sure he held that finger up as he climbed, but in a few seconds he was up by the hole in the trunk. They must have felt the vibration of him coming up the trunk, because two heads were poking out, watching him.
Eira and Ifan were grinning from ear to ear as they came out onto the branch. Ifan had black hair, broad shoulders and narrow hips, and was probably eight inches tall. His iridescent dragonfly wings were nearly as long as he was tall, and he was big for a pixie, that's for sure.
John grabbed a branch above with one hand and dug his toes in for support. He squinted and smiled, and his whiskers almost brushed the pair. "Eira." He dipped his head to her, and she gave him a curtsey. "Ifan. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." He bowed again.
Ifan swept low into a graceful bow. "Likewise, prince."
John rolled his eyes. "I'm not a prince – I have no house anymore."
It was Eira's turn to roll her eyes and sigh, then she reached out and gave one of his whiskers a hard tug. John squinted one eye shut briefly and pulled back. "That doesn't change blood, and you know it." She put her hands on her hips, and a second later Ifan was mirroring her.
John gave them a sheepish grimace and shrugged. "Yeah, well, the family would argue with that. And I'm not here for that crap anyway." He carefully dug in the pocket of his sweats – claws made it a tricky maneuver. "I'm here to bring you a thank you slash house warming present." He held up the little plastic tub of honey on the bare brown palm of his hand.
Both pixies let out happy little gasps and clapped their hands.
John glanced up, then he motioned them to follow with a jerk of his chin. He climbed up a little higher and found a perfect perch for himself. He settled his back into a nice wide v-shaped branch, stretched his legs out, and sunk his toes into the main trunk. He was stretched out comfortably, and Eira landed on his stomach a second later. Ifan joined them, and he had two small carved cups. John opened the top of the packet and sat it on his stomach, and both pixies dipped their cups in.
And they both let out contented little sighs a second later. "That is some good shit," Ifan said as he plopped down into a cross-legged position right on John's incision and drained his cup. John let out a little grunt, but that was all. Eira settled down more gracefully.
"Has Dr. Brown been made aware of what you two can do for this place?"
"Oh, yes," Eira replied as she refilled her cup. "The Sidhe Lady and I had a talk with her. She is very excited." She drained that and gave out a little hiccup. She covered her mouth and giggled. Ifan nudged her, and she shoved back. He belched, and then they both giggled.
John had heard pixies got drunk on honey, but he'd never seen it before. He grinned.
"I am really going to like this place," Ifan said. "No cats - 'cept you, of course – no unpredictable weather, no faeries." He, of course, was referring to the wee folk with the butterfly wings that were their mortal enemies. "This place is perfect," he said and spread his arms wide.
John's grin disappeared, and Eira noticed. "Will you be staying here?" she asked as she and Ifan refilled their cups.
"No. As soon as I'm well, I'm going home."
Eira looked very sad. "Won't you stay? Please? The Sidhe Lady is."
That took John by surprise. "She is?"
Eira nodded. "She told me she was offered a position with the security force, and that it was too good of a deal to pass up."
"Really, now?" John wondered if it was a legitimate offer, or a hush-up bribe. Then he thought of Teyla, and got a bit of a guilty pang – if it was to keep quiet, she'd be handing whoever made the offer to her their liver. "Huh."
"And I think she likes you," Ifan said and grinned lecherously. That earned him another shove from Eira, and he tipped over on his side and laughed.
John scowled at him. He dug in his pocket and pulled out another packet. "Drink your damn honey."
By the time they slicked the second little tub clean, they were both very wobbly, and Ifan had broken into song. He did a medley of tunes from Monty Python's 'The Meaning of Life', and had a surprisingly good deep voice. For a pixie.
John was trying really hard not to laugh – it made his gut hurt, and he was afraid his jumping stomach would dislodge them and send them to the ground. He doubted neither one of them could fly at this point. "Where were you two living before this?"
"Hollywood," Ifan replied, and belched. "Oh, wait." He put a hand to his stomach, screwed up his face, and managed to recite the alphabet with the next one. Eira smacked him, and he busted out laughing and tipped over.
Then Eira proceeded to shock the crap out of both of them by launching into a flawless rendition of 'I'm Tired' from 'Blazing Saddles'. Both men just gaped at her, and when she finished John said, "Oh, wow. You're a … a tiny Teutonic Titwillow."
Both pixies gaped at him, then just collapsed on his chest in a gale of drunken laughter that bordered on the ultrasonic. Yeah, must remember drunk pixies and alliteration don't mix. John cringed, but he finally cut loose and was laughing as well. He crossed his arms to keep the pair corralled, and laughed until he could feel tears running off the fur on the sides of his face and into his ears. They wound down, and a few minutes later Eira and Ifan were snoring softly in the artificial sunshine dappling his chest. John took in a deep breath and on the exhale did something he hadn't done in probably twenty years.
He purred.
Eira snuffled into his shirt and let out a contented little sigh, while Ifan rolled over and snuggled up next to her. Their wings clattered together briefly then just drooped in total relaxation.
Yeah, I could get used to this, he thought as he repositioned his feet and got more comfortable. Then he heard quiet giggling, but this time it was from overhead. John looked up through the branches and saw Katie Brown on a walkway maybe thirty feet above them. She had a hand over her mouth and was still laughing and shaking her head. He wondered how long she'd been up there, and he gave her an embarrassed little wave. She waved back and continued on her way. John was glad his fur hid his blush.
About an hour later his drunken companions began to stir. He slowly sat up and they carefully climbed up onto his shoulders and buried their hands into the fur on his neck. Since they were still in no condition to fly he climbed back down to their branch and set them gently down there. They gave him big happy smiles, and Eira even leaned forward and planted another kiss on him, this time on the top of his furry nose. Then they went into their den, no doubt to sleep off the rest of their honey hangover.
John started back down, and about ten feet from the ground just pushed away from the trunk and dropped. When he landed he doubled over, his arms wrapped around his stomach. That wasn't smart. He heard someone snort, and when he raised his head he saw Carson stretched out on his back on a bench, his arms under his head, frowning at him. "How long you been there, doc?" John grated out as he stayed slightly hunched over – the jarring from his landing really woke a few things up that hadn't bothered him the past few days.
Carson sat up and swiveled his legs around. "Oh, not long, really. I got to hear the beginning of 'It's Christmas Time In Heaven' as I went by on my walk. Could hear the drunken laughter when I was on the other side of the path." He got up. "You probably don't need to hear me say yae shouldn't have done that."
John drew his lips in guiltily and shook his head. He closed his eyes and shifted back, and it took him a minute before he could straighten back up again. "I'm okay," he said to Carson's worried frown. He looked down, one hand still on his stomach, and noticed for the first time the little sticky hand prints on his t-shirt and what looked to be a tiny drool spot from Eira. That brought a huge goofy grin to his face and he actually chuckled.
"Now that is good to see," Carson said and smiled himself. "Were those the pixies I heard with you up there?"
John nodded as he carefully sat to put his socks and shoes back on. "Eira and Ifan. I'll introduce you to them when they aren't hung-over."
"Huh." Carson glanced up. "Bloidy hell." Once John got his shoes on his smile did fade. "Would you walk with me, John?"
John could feel Carson's mood change as he picked up his jacket and put it on. "Sure, doc." They walked in silence for several minutes, long enough for John to realize that it was too quiet in the greenhouse. It needed bird song. He could hear bees once in awhile, but it definitely needed birds.
"All of Kolya and Chaya's research has been destroyed," Carson finally said. "As well as the recording of what happened in the astronomy lab that night."
John took in a very deep breath and let it out in a relieved sigh. They followed the path in companionable silence for another few minutes.
"I don't know if anyone has told you, but even though I'm the CMO of Atlantis, I'm a geneticist."
"I did not know that," John replied.
Carson nodded. "For years I've been mapping an odd little variance in the eighth chromosome – some people have it, but most do not. Completely recessive, doesn't do anything as far as I've been able to determine. But the mysterious little bugger is there, and it's always very consistent in its coding." He stuck his hands in his pockets. "It wasn't until recently I started seeing it crop up again, and the variance in the samples has been, well, very limited, even more so than in the other examples I've found." He glanced sideways at John. "You might say they're the most 'pure' examples I've come across."
John stopped, and turned to face Carson. He frowned, but it was in curiosity.
Carson ran a hand up over his hair and scratched his scalp absently. "Kolya and Chaya were certain that humans and these Pretenders were two completely different species. That one little gene tells me that we are more closely related than they realized. And until I come up with a better name, I've started calling it the Pretender Gene."
John's eyebrow rose a tad.
"I have it," Carson said. "That's what got me searching in the first place. There are a few people here who have it as well – Major Lorne and Ronon, specifically."
"Well, my people do have a history of inter-breeding with humans," John said. "We haven't looked upon it with distaste like, say, the Sidhe have. And I know of instances of other crosses among other Pretender races and humans." He was going to have to tell Ronon he was part ogre – the reaction will be so worth it.
"See, that is the number one reason why those maniac's so called 'research' pisses me off 'til I want to scream. They were working under the assumption that humans and Pretenders were two completely different species. If that were the case, then the two would not be able to produce offspring. They, they completely ignored the number one basic rule of genetics. Gah!" He took a couple deep breaths to calm himself down. "Prejudicial psychopaths," he muttered under his breath. Then he looked at John. "I would like to ask your permission to map your DNA – study this gene, see if I can trace it through populations in conjunction with the Human Genome Project. And I promise that you will remain completely anonymous – no one will know you've contributed to the study except us." He gestured back and forth between them.
John drew his lips in and crossed his arms. "Completely anonymous?"
Carson nodded. "What I would like to do is a formal study of the Pretenders, but at the moment just the DNA aspects would be fascinating. We are kissing cousins, after all."
John chuffed. Then he smiled and nodded. "Sure. You have my permission." Then he held out his hand, and Carson shook it. They started back down the path and went around the loop on the far end. The bedrock of the island formed that wall, and the grooves from the drills that marked its surface gave the wall an oddly corrugated appearance. John gave Carson a sideways look. "Did you know I'm about an eighth Sidhe?"
"Really?"
John nodded and buried his hands back in his pockets. "Yeah. My Mom. She was always treated bad because she wasn't 'pureblood'." She was married into House Nahuel for some piddly alliance, and wound up getting murdered later in some stupid power struggle when he was five. That marked the beginning of his attitude, and it eventually led to his banishment. "So that prejudicial crap? Very familiar with it." He caught a flash of worry from Carson, so he glanced at the man and offered him a sad smile. "Might tell you all about it someday."
"I would listen," Carson replied, then clapped John on the shoulder. Nobody spoke again until they were about even with the pixie's tree. "They grow all of our produce here." He pointed up at the hydroponics units. "After the engineering division, botany has the second largest staff. It really irks the hell out of Rodney." His dimples showed. "But don't tell him I said that."
John grinned. "I won't."
"Thank you." Carson grinned back. "And even though I said this earlier, I'll say it again – it's good to see you really smiling."
John scratched the side of his nose in embarrassment. "Well, it's been awhile." And the truth of that statement struck him like a sledgehammer. He stopped dead in his tracks, and Carson went on a few steps before he stopped and turned around.
"You all right?" Carson asked hesitantly.
John blinked at him a few times before he replied. "Um, yeah. I am." The corner of his mouth rose, and he chuffed. "And I'm hungry. You hungry?"
Carson nodded. "I could eat lunch now. Shall we swing by and get Rodney?"
"Sure. Though you probably don't have to. He'll get the APB." When Carson frowned at him he explained his theory.
Carson snickered. "I hate to say it, but that does sound like something the major would do." He held a hand over his mouth and made a scratchy sound. "Team to the cafeteria immediately. John is eating alone. Repeat, John is eating alone. Send reinforcements with coffee and dessert." Carson shook his head. "And they call me a bloidy mother hen."
He didn't have the heart to tell John he was right.
End Note: Now tell me honestly - is it wrong to be jealous of a wee 'lil pixie? Huh? And yes - 'The Meaning of Life' and 'Blazing Saddles' are two of my favorite movies. Oh no, I feel a song coming on... 'Just remember that your standing, on a planet that's evolving, and revolving at 900 miles an hour ..."
