Jian gazed longingly at the pale blue sky. He had forgotten how hard it was to travel overland and cursed the fortune that had stranded him on the wrong side of the veil. His feet hurt and his injured wing throbbed with every beat of his heart; he knew that he needed help.

He had been tracking the Elder that he had passed earlier and who now seemed to be headed his way. He debated the wisdom of making contact. The man had followed the riverbank most of the day, stopping frequently to make quick sketches of whatever had captured his attention. The shoreline across the river, an isolated bloom growing within a patch of fungi, a copse of drowned trees all had been transferred to paper with an intense passion that bordered upon ferocity.

The decision was taken from him when he turned and came face to face with the Elder in question. When he was not muttering under his breath or sketching on his paper the man could move with the stealth of a feral cat. For a long moment they both stood and stared at one another until the Elder broke the silence that seemed to have descended upon the entire forest.

"Who are you and what are you doing here? This is private property, you know."

Jian remembered his lessons at the academy, studies he had undertaken to assuage the burning itch he felt to know more about this world. Like his appearance, his name would draw unwanted attention. He hesitated as he struggled to retrieve what he had learned so many years ago. The last group of explorers to successful return from behind the veil had reported that it was normal practice to be known by occupation thus making James the Smith commonplace. He tried not to think about the most recent expedition that had disappeared without a trace.

Jian blinked and returned the Elder's sharp blue gaze. It was always best to stay as close to the truth as possible and his family did have a long and proud history that was reflected in his family name. Well it was late to avoid unwanted attention. That chance had passed the second he had detoured from his path to study the man more closely.

"Jian the Sheppard at your service, sire."

The Elder's eyes grew wide before narrowing into a suspicious glare.

"Do I have 'gullible and dim-witted' engraved across my forehead? What-is-your-name? Or shall we just take this to the appropriate authorities."

No, Jian had no desire to converse with any authority figure. Him and those in the hierarchies just never seemed to quite see things in the same way.

"Very well," he muttered half under his breath as he pulled himself up as best he could and then relaxed into his particular version of the presentation stance of the Aerial Corps. He held himself at the ready while at the same time keeping his body loose and affecting a calm almost insolent demeanor. It was an image he had spent years hiding behind and one that had driven most of the wing masters he had served under to utter distraction.

"Jian, Thaddeus, Juozas, Johannes, Ribaldo Sheppard of the Southern High Reaches at your service."

"John Sheppard it is then," the man responded without missing a beat of time though the way he pronounced Jian wasn't quite right, the inflection being a bit off, though not in a displeasing sort of way.

"Rodney McKay and wait, you're from the south, from the States? You don't sound American," the Elder told him with a scowl, his voice echoing the uncertainty reflected in his eyes. "You aren't one of those bleeding heart mamby-pampy tree-huggers are you?"

"Perhaps?" Jian offered tentatively, a little smirk playing on his lips, for he had understood little of what had been said.

"And what's with the wings? A little much don't you think?"

"Wings," he repeated weakly, his mouth gone suddenly dry "No just my cloak," Jian told him cockily, quickly recovering and pulling them in just a little bit tighter.

The Elder graced him with another withering glare.

"You're not a groupie, are you?"

"Certainly not," Jian was quick to say. He had no idea what a groupie was but judging from the disdain fairly dripping off the other man's words, he was sure he didn't want to be one.

"I will have you know that my fantasy series, The Sky Beneath You, has won several prestigious international awards, so, you know, it's okay if you are," the Elder added, in a shy tone.

"Still not one, thank you," Jian declared. He still didn't know what this groupie was.

"Oh I get it," Rodney told him, snapping his fingers for emphasis "you're hoping I'll accept you as my model. I can be pretty demanding though and I expect a high degree of professionalism and the hours are long especially once I finish with the sketches and begin painting."

An artist's model? No one had ever mistaken him for such. He was too tall and muscular and his kind usually had well, less hair, and his eyes weren't right. They were always a different colour, sometimes green and then almost a golden brown depending on the light and his mood. To be honest he was not the most attractive of his people. Jian felt himself begin to flush beneath the Elder's intense scrutiny and bristle at the implied sarcasm.

"I think not," he hotly denied.

"B-but, you're perfect," the Elder exclaimed, his expression broadcasting his confusion and bewilderment.

"Hardly perfect, Elder McKay," Jian drawled sarcastically, as he looked down at himself. He leathers were water-stained and the mud had dried and left patches of ugly brown streaks on his flying boots not to mention his hair which had to be standing to attention by now.

"Ok, fine not perfect then," the Elder huffed in exasperation "except that it's the imperfections that make you so, uhm, perfect."

"Truly?" Jian let slip, his eyebrows drawn up, expressing his obvious surprise at the Elder's assessment.

"Yeah, and so you know, I don't generally resort to props," the Elder told him with a wave of his hand "I find they limit rather than inspire but hey that is a pretty decent costume. Did you make it yourself? What's it made of?" Rodney asked as he reached out and firmly grasped one of the wings.

Startled, Jian hissed and leapt back, his wings flying open and fluttering with agitation in response to the man's touch. It was an intimate gesture he was unused to receiving from strangers… and it hurt.

"Ow."

The Elder also had backed away, clearly in shock, his blue eyes wide and vivid against the sudden pallor of his face. "Sorry," he finally managed to croak out. He took a step closer, his hands hovering over but not touching the still quivering wings.

"No, it's fine, I was unprepared. I apologize if I frightened you," Jian choked out gasping against the sharp pain that shot through his body, the wings' bony infrastructure practically vibrating.

The Elder's gaze snapped around to his. "Don't be an idiot. It seems to me that you could use a decent meal and a hot shower."

His head cocked to one side, Jian studied the Elder, the way his eyes tracked the slightest movment of his still outstretched wings, the barely concealed excitement and, dare he say, awe in his expression. He saw the concern and distress in the Elder's eyes as his hands hovered uneasily over the clearly damaged portion of his left wing span and the way he reluctantly lowered his hands and stepped away, quickly hiding a flash of regret.

"Well, are you coming? Chop, chop. Time waits for no man."

Jian smiled wearily and did some quick calculations in his head. The rift would close as the new moon rose full in the night sky and then it would be gone again for a long, long time. He'd never make it to the foothills in time to catch the rift before it dove beneath the mountains, not in his current condition, so why not take advantage and experience what he could of this world. Besides, for however brief a time it would be, the prospect of playing model to the Elder's art appealed to him. It would be amusing and there had been little in Jian's life of late that he found enjoyable.

"Very well, lead the way Elder McKay," he told the Elder, his lips twitching into a smirk at the startled confusion the Elder displayed as if uncertain how to proceed now that Jian had accepted his invitation.

"Right, right, well this way then."

Jian exhaled softly as he carefully retracted his wings and folded them neatly around himself. As they headed down the well-worn path, away from the river, he reflected that perhaps today would prove to be one of the good ones after all.

Rodney led the way back to his cabin in silence at a complete loss for words. An occurrence that didn't happen too often. He kept glancing back and no they hadn't gone away. Wings! Iridescent blue, bat-shaped, man sized, warm and velvety soft wings.

He had hoped that he had a few years yet before he became delusional and even then he had expected to be barricading himself in the bathroom, afraid that the neighbours were out to get him. Karl Javinski, his closest neighbour, had always scared him just a little bit. This was over the top even for him. He wondered if his new friend was a product of his deteriorating brain or if the man was real and only the unusual appendages on his back were hallucinatory.

He came out of the woods leading to his back yard and skidded to a stop when he saw the red Honda parked in the driveway.

"Oh, no."

"What is it?"

"It's my daughter-in-law, Emma. Just shut up and let me do all the talking."

"He's back here, Mom."

"And my grandson, Nathan, hey, put that away," Rodney hissed when he noticed Jian had pulled a dagger seemingly from out of thin air.

"Grandpa, where have you been? We've been worried about you."

"Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?" Emma asked suspiciously as she looked Jian over.

Rodney breathed a sigh of relief. Oh thank God, the man himself was real so that meant he was only half crazy.

"Emma this is John Sheppard. He's my new assistant. He'll be staying in the cabin with me. You were right I really shouldn't be up here alone."

He had never been very good at lying so he was careful to only bend the truth a little, okay maybe a lot . It helped too if he told Emma what she wanted to hear.

"I see," Emma replied tersely, her lips pressed into a tight line as she looked Jian over from the bottom of his boots to the tips of his disheveled, spiky hair.

"Dr. Duia recommended him," Rodney told her as he stepped between Jian and his daughter-in-law.

"Hey Grandpa," Nathan greeted him, sounding so much like his father that Rodney felt his throat close up just a little bit.

At sixteen, his grandson was thankfully over the worst of the hormone induced angst of teenage-hood and was almost human again. A stage his son had regretfully not been around to enjoy. Rodney could commiserate only too well with the tension and bitterness that surrounded his daughter-in-law. Rodney had supported Jack's decision to re-enlist in the same military that had claimed Sam's life for its own.

"I thought you didn't use props and special effects Grandpa. Isn't that a sign of a less than stellar intellect and a lazy imagination?" Nathan teased.

Rodney stifled a gasp as Nathan reached out and rubbed his fingers along the back of the wings. Jian had tensed at his touch and Rodney could see a hint of a steel blade beneath the velvety softness.

"Good job Grandpa. It bet you could get a job as a special effects technician any time you wanted; totally awesome costume. Did you make it?"

Oh, thank God, he hadn't gone insane at all then, and yes, the irony did not escape him.

"Show us, Grandpa, please?"

"Nathan," Emma scolded. "You don't have to Dad," she told Rodney quietly and his heart tightened up a little because he rarely heard her address him as such since Jack had been declared KIA.

It was how the two had met, hooking up at one of Rodney's shows, drawn together by his father's art but working together because thankfully Jack had taken after his mother when it came to the social graces.

"No, it's okay," Rodney told them not wanting this moment to end, "John, show them, the right side only please."

"Certainly, as you wish," Jian agreed smoothly.

Rodney held his breath as Jian extended the right wing out to its full length because oh, my, God, they weren't a figment of his imagination or a by-product of his dementia, they were honest to God real.

"The other one was damaged when John slipped on some rocks," he explained calmly. It could even have been the truth, as Rodney hadn't asked how it had happened. "Emma, perhaps you can stay and help me re-glue the joints and then I can use some help in grinding the pigments for the new colours."

"I'm afraid not Dad, we need to get back to the city. Try to remember to take your cell phone with you next time and save us all some time and aggravation."

And just like that the moment was gone, shattered into sharp pieces of cool indifference.