Part One: The Blue-Skinned Man
Rodney paced in front of the tea-seller's tent, blowing anxious gouts of steam into the chill air and sliding his thumbs restlessly over his fingers. Some said the Market had met outside the city walls twice a year since the Ancestors had first conjured Lantea from the sea. Not that Rodney gave any credence to such things, but the earthen ground had been tramped hard as stone by countless footfalls over the centuries, and it was uncomfortable and cold under the thin soles of his boots. Rodney's toes were prickling and his fingers felt like fat sticks frozen to the ends of his hands, and if Teyla didn't finish with her thrice-damned 'tea' soon so they could get back to the warmth and relative safety of the castle, Rodney had more than half a mind to storm through the tent flap and shove his hands down the back of her tunic to warm them.
"What's taking her so long?" Rodney groused in Ronon's general direction. Ronon was crouched on the ground on the far side of the tent opening, wearing nothing heavier than his leather coat and looking far more comfortable than Rodney all the same. He was casting dice made of carved bone, tossing them then watching intently as they landed. Rodney had no idea if he was reading them or placing bets with himself, and he was too footsore and miserable to bother asking.
"She hasn't seen Kanaan since the last Market," Ronon said, sounding like he couldn't care if they stayed outside the tent until night fell and they froze to death.
"Yeah, well, we're meant to be gathering information, not waiting here freezing our limbs off while she tries to make twins!" Rodney exhaled loudly and stomped angrily past Ronon. He was in a bad enough mood that he was pleased when one of the carved wolf vertebrae bounced off the side of his foot and came up a one, which meant an automatic loss regardless of the other numbers.
Ronon narrowed his eyes at him and gathered up the four dice again, shaking them in his hand. The near-constant rattling noise was getting on Rodney's nerves along with everything else. Each time he glanced up at the stone-grey sky, all he could think of was that this would be a particularly pathetic way to die, cold and bored and within an hour's walk of home.
Not that the Wraith were bold enough to attack right at the city of Atlantis' gates, at least for the moment. But rumors had been spreading for months that they were travelling down from the North, and with winter laying the path for them he knew it was only a matter of time. The only question was when and whether the Lanteans would be able to stop them.
At the moment, Rodney feared they wouldn't.
As if she could sense the crumbling of the last of Rodney's patience, Teyla finally emerged from the tent, looking rosy-cheeked and warm and exactly like she and Kanaan had been trying to plant a second baby in her already fecund womb.
Kanaan came out after her, beaming stupidly and adjusting the ties on his leggings. Rodney scowled at them both.
"Well?" Ronon asked. He scooped up his dice and stood as if he'd been just as warm as Teyla and not squatting out in the freezing cold for nearly an hour. He raised his eyebrows at her as he dropped the dice into a pouch on his belt.
Teyla took a breath, suddenly looking far less content. She pulled on the cloak Kanaan handed her and began fastening it at her neck. "It is as we feared, and worse," she said, and Kanaan nodded in unhappy agreement. "My people have sighted Wraith traveling from the North, as we expected, but also from the East. They are preparing to attack on two fronts."
"Souls in hell," Rodney swore. He ran his palm over his face, trying not to imagine the multitudes of death-white demonspawn: eager, ravenous and without mercy.
"There shouldn't be that many," Ronon said. "The Prophecy--"
"You and your prophecies!" Rodney snapped, too cold and scared to even try curbing his tongue. "Your so-called 'prophets' couldn't save your nation from the Wraith! And your own sooth-saying couldn't--"
Ronon stepped forward with a growl, forcing Rodney to step back so they wouldn't collide. "Sateda's prophets were the finest seers in the world! We knew what was going to happen to us! That's why we fought to the last." He took another step, this time purposely shoving Rodney backwards with his hand. "And if you'd listened to me, instead of insisting you knew better, and nothing could possibly go wrong--!"
"You agreed never to discuss it!" Rodney hissed. He could feel the blood rushing out of his face and was suddenly even colder, though sweat had broken out on his forehead. "I didn't--do you think I don't live with that every day of my life? Knowing what, what I...Oh, damn--" He was nauseous and dizzy, his vision blurring. "I--I'm--"
Ronon caught Rodney under the arms as his legs buckled.
"Inside, quickly," Teyla said, and even with the world spinning Rodney could still hear how angry she was that he and Ronon were arguing.
Ronon lifted him and carried him in his arms, ducking easily through the tent flap.
"Over here," Kanaan said, and Rodney was lowered onto what was obviously Kanaan's pallet. He was just grateful that Kanaan yanked off the topmost blankets, since Rodney could all-too easily smell that he'd been absolutely right about what Teyla and Kanaan had been doing. The embarrassed blush on Teyla's cheeks almost made being carried like a baby worth it.
It was so warm in the tent that Rodney's fingers started to sting. The heat came from a simple brazier on the floor, kept well away from anything flammable. Clean, white smoke drifted up from it, scented with the teas Kanaan sold. The smoke billowed through an open flap in the ceiling, though there was still more than enough to make Rodney cough and his eyes water.
"Here, drink," Teyla said, holding warm liquid to his lips, so sweet that he could smell the precious sugar in it. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were faint from hunger. I wouldn't have stayed so long."
Rodney was too busy drinking to answer, taking huge gulps of the delicious tea. He was sure Kanaan had added something more to it than the sugar because of how he felt almost instantly stronger and more alert, but Rodney was definitely not about to complain.
"It's not your fault," he said quickly as soon as the drinking bowl was empty. Teyla took it from him and refilled it, but Rodney just held the newly-brimming bowl, letting the heat seeping through the clay warm his hands. "I've got plenty of dried fruit with me. I should have been paying attention." He looked at Ronon, who had moved to one of the far walls and was crouching again because there wasn't room enough for him to stand. Ronon's face was expressionless, but Rodney had known him long enough to see through the mask to the sorrow underneath. "I, uh, probably wouldn't have said those things if I wasn't on the verge of collapse," he said. Teyla eyed him silently. "I'm sorry," Rodney added. "I, um, actually think you're a very fine soothsayer."
Ronon nodded. "I'm sorry too," he said roughly, which for him was the same as a groveling apology. The harm had been done, though, and Rodney could feel how hard his heart was thumping in his chest and knew there'd be no sleep for him tonight, nor likely for some nights after. But he also knew that his reaction wasn't Ronon's fault. They all were on edge and had been for weeks, and Ronon shouldn't have been forced to take the brunt of Rodney's fear. And a few sleepless nights were the least of what Rodney deserved.
He lifted the bowl to his lips with shaking hands, and Rodney hoped that only he knew it had nothing to do with hunger, and everything to do with guilt and shame.
It was even more bitterly cold by the time they left Kanaan's tent, and the wind had come up. It whistled and roared along the canvas of the marketplace, scattering people and belongings alike. There was no need of a soothsayer to predict the coming storm.
"Oh, this is just perfect," Rodney grumbled. He bunched the front panels of his cloak in his fists and held it tightly closed, wishing there was some way of keeping his hood from blowing off his head. Teyla's hair was ripped out of its neat queue immediately, and she grimaced as it whipped against her mouth and eyes. Ronon's dreadlocks stayed tied back, but even he was squinting and looking pained.
"Is Kanaan going to be all right?" Rodney had to all but shout against Teyla's ear for her to hear him, but she nodded. Despite how much darker and colder it was now, Rodney couldn't begrudge Kanaan and Teyla their lingering goodbye. It would be half a year before Teyla saw him again, and that was only in the best of circumstances. She and Kanaan had kissed each other like it was the last time, while Rodney and Ronon waited for them in the close, overly warm air of the tent, trying to give the lovers as much privacy as possible. Now the three of them were leaving Kanaan behind for what could be forever, and Teyla's hands were on the round swell of her belly and her eyes were as bleak as the sky.
Kanaan had sent them away with several bags each of his wares: small bundles of fragrant, dried tea leaves good for everything from cutting fevers to accompanying a meal. He'd joked that he wouldn't be selling anything more that day, so he might as well save himself the trouble of carrying some home, but Rodney knew farewell gifts when they crammed his pockets. His question to Teyla hadn't just been about how Kanaan would fare overnight, though the wind threatened to overturn all but the sturdiest tents and it was a legitimate concern. But of course Teyla couldn't tell Rodney what was going to happen, and Ronon's dice would just blow away, even if they could spare the time for him to throw them.
"His tent's warded," Ronon rumbled over the complaint of the wind, and Teyla gave Rodney a fleeting smile as if in confirmation. Rodney nodded back, relieved. At least he didn't have to worry about Kanaan disappearing overnight in a flying wreck of wood and canvas. He told himself it was just for Teyla's sake that he'd worried at all.
Kanaan never displayed anything outside of his tent, but all around them the other shopkeepers were scrambling to get their pots and fruits, wine and tapestries, rugs and garments out of the wind. The Market had been far smaller than in previous years, but the impromptu village of tents and hastily-constructed huts were crowded enough, making progress slow-going.
Two girls ran past, nearly colliding with Ronon, each with armfuls of sheathed swords. They were followed by three boys with shields dangling off their arms like wings. The littlest one was caught by a gust of wind and sent tumbling, almost flying into Teyla. Ronon lifted the child bodily before he hit then set him on the ground. Ronon yanked the shields off the boy's arms and smacked them against his stomach.
"You want to die early, you keep carrying them the other way," Ronon rumbled. The boy, tousled and runny-nosed and with eyes like saucers, nodded quickly and then fled, shields clutched against his stomach with cold-reddened hands.
"Three and two," Ronon said, glancing after the running children as they shouldered on through the thinning crowds. "And armaments. It means something."
"It means they're the brats of a weapons seller!" Rodney yelled above the wind. He kept from rolling his eyes only because it was too cold.
"Five is the number of transformation, Rodney," Teyla said. She pointed ahead and to the right, so they would know which way she meant for them to go.
"I know." Rodney sighed loudly. "Because it's made up of three and two or four and one--in each case the unity of a perfect and imperfect number. And because it comes at the center of one to ten, which symbolizes the transition point between one state and another. And it's also an imperfect number coming between two perfect ones." He looked at Teyla blandly. "Every hearth witch's apprentice knows that! Which doesn't mean it has some great significance just because we happen to see it."
Ronon gave him a flat stare. "I was taught to see signs and portents in everyday things. It's how I stayed alive before Teyla found me."
"Yes, well," Rodney said uncomfortably. He mentally kicked himself for disparaging his friend twice in one afternoon, especially when he'd meant what he said back in Kanaan's tent. "I'm just saying, no matter how good a seer you may be, sometimes kids carrying weapons are just kids carrying weapons."
"It means something," Ronon said. "I can feel it."
"Fine," Rodney said, giving up. If Ronon said he felt something, he did. Whether the meaning he found in a bunch of stampeding snot-noses would in any way prove relevant, however, remained to be seen. Rodney tried to pull his cloak more tightly around himself, wondering if the wind had actually died down a little or he was just so cold he'd stopped anymore.
Teyla halted so abruptly that Rodney almost slammed into her.
"What? What is it?" Rodney asked. He let go his cloak with one hand so he could reach for the knife at his belt, and he shivered with the sudden blast of freezing air. He looked around, trying to see what might have alarmed her.
Ronon had drawn his sword, his big hands tight around the leather-wrapped metal and bone. He was looking around the way Rodney was, except he was better at it. "Wraith or other demon?" he asked.
Teyla didn't answer immediately, and Rodney saw she had her eyes closed in concentration, even though her fighting sticks were already in her hands. "Neither," she said at last, making Rodney look at her in puzzlement. "It's not human, but it's not demonic, either." She shook her head, opening her eyes. "It feels tainted, somehow. But it's not Wraith."
"Whatever," Ronon said. He changed his grip so he only had the sword in one hand, holding it ready as he walked. He grinned at Rodney, showing teeth despite the cold. "Five for transformation, and armaments. I told you."
Teyla pointed towards the main square of the Market. "It's this way." She was walking faster, waddling a little as she kept up with Ronon's longer stride.
Rodney sucked in air; felt it sear down into his lungs, already thinking of what this was likely going to cost him.
Now that they were closer to the square, Rodney could hear shouting over the constant rattling of canvas and wood and the keening of the wind. He shared a look with Teyla, wondering what they were getting into.
"Maybe the Market folk can deal with it?" Rodney asked. He sighed when no one answered him. He was shivering in earnest now, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.
Ronon was walking in front of them now. The crowed parted around him like cloth for a knife, even though he'd moved his sword to point the tip at the ground. Rodney and Teyla hurried after. Rodney hoped he looked determined and powerful, rather than windburned and breathless and more than a little afraid.
The shouting, jostling mob was gathered in a wide, loose circle around their target at the center: A pole that had once been the trunk of a tree, worn smooth and dark over time. It had been driven deep into hard-packed earth that gleamed like ice in the dying light of evening.
Teyla's not-demon was all but obscured by a filthy, garbage-spattered cloak. It--he? Rodney decided it was most likely a man--had been bound by his wrists and ankles with rough hemp rope and then tied bodily to the pole. The tattered hood of his cloak hung over his face, offering only slight protection from the things being hurled at him, but effectively blinding him as well. All Rodney could see of his features was the angular shadow of his chin.
The Market folk made their king or queen from the first wagon- or caravan-owner to arrive every season, and the City Watch, by centuries-long agreement, ignored everything unless specifically asked for help. Market justice was swift and invariably brutal, with those who committed the mildest offenses left out in the square for days regardless of the weather, and the worst being hung, or--if the criminal was a rapist or the ruler felt particularly vengeful--left to the mercy of the crowd.
Rodney hadn't heard any hue-and-cry over the wind, but whatever this man had done, it seemed no one had been inclined to be merciful. Rodney guessed that Larrin, the Market Queen this season, had passed judgment and disappeared back to the warmth of her caravan, because a quick glance around showed no one with the ceremonial purple mantle or the requisite glowering bodyguards.
Wherever she was, she'd condemned the prisoner to a prolonged and terrible death. He was immobilized and being hit with a near-constant barrage of stones, garbage, chunks of ice and pieces of wood, and couldn't so much as turn his face away because he couldn't see what was coming. He made no noise, despite how each new impact had to hurt. He just strained uselessly against the ropes as he was hit again and again and again. Rodney couldn't help wondering if he would die like that, or if eventually the crowd would get bored and just tear him apart.
"Market justice," Rodney said, grimacing. "Looks like we won't be needed." It was a relief, certainly, but Rodney couldn't help but feel sorry for the man, whatever he was.
"This isn't justice," Teyla said grimly, and Rodney thought she was just being sympathetic, until she turned to him and he saw the darkness of her expression, the way she changed her grip on the rods in her hand like she knew she was going to fight. "Where is Larrin?"
Larrin's people were nomadic traders, an entire city made up of wagon trains, and they prided themselves on arriving first each Market season. Larrin made a queen known for her cruelty, but Teyla was right, now that Rodney thought about it. No matter how cold it was, Larrin wouldn't have left before the offender was dead.
Ronon turned to the nearest merchant and grabbed him by the shoulder, hard enough to spin the portly man around. "What's his crime?" Ronon growled.
The merchant's head tilted back so he could see Ronon's face, and he blanched. He pointed at the man tied to the pole. "He's a demon! He was skulking around the animal stalls. I heard he drinks cow's blood and tore the neck off a goose with his bare hands!" The merchant relaxed as he warmed to his story. "He's like a wild animal and he's got the strength of ten men! We had to catch him with nets and chains, yeah?" He drew himself up, looking proud. "Took six of us to take him--we're just lucky we could capture him before he could steal our children!"
"Where is your queen? Does she know of this?" Teyla asked the merchant.
"Don't know," he said, and his shifting eyes were all the reply any of them needed. "Pretty sure I heard she's got the grippe, or some such."
"You hear a lot of things," Ronon said to him. The man backed up a few steps at Ronon's expression, forcing some other people out of the way. "Any of you actually see him do this?"
The seller opened and closed his mouth a few times. "Well, no," he said finally, "but...look at him! He's a demon! A Wraith!"
"He is neither," Teyla spat. The merchant's mouth gaped in shock and he backed up again. Someone else in the crowd shoved him out of the circle and he used the excuse to get away.
"Rodney," Teyla said, looking at him.
"Right." Rodney sighed. "Gods damn it." He closed his eyes and nodded. "All right. You both figure out some way to distract the crowd. I'll cut him down." He looked at the hapless creature trussed to the pole and took another breath, steeling himself. "Don't wait for me--I'll meet you back in the city."
Teyla's eyes widened in dismay. "Rodney..."
"Let's go," Rodney said, but Teyla put her stick across his chest to stop him before he could run.
"Let me help you," she said. "Use my voice!"
Rodney shook his head. "You shouldn't be using your magic."
Teyla glared at him. "I know my own limits!"
"I'm not talking about your limits!" Rodney shot back. He leaned in more closely so she could hear him above the crowed and the wind. "This isn't about limits! It's about the cost!"
Teyla looked both sad and exasperated. She pulled a lock of hair out of her mouth. "Rodney! Why can you not believe--?"
"Argue later," Ronon snapped at both of them. He lifted his sword, looking at Teyla. "Ready?"
She nodded. "I'll be fine, Rodney," she said.
"Souls in hell," Rodney swore in worry and frustration. He dodged around Teyla and ran across the circle towards the pole, lifting his knife.
He heard Ronon's whoop, then the surge of sound that meant he'd waded into the crowd and started to fight. Rodney could hear Teyla singing as well: Its pure, clear beauty cleaved like a sword through the surrounding noise. He didn't look back to see, but he knew by the song that she was conjuring a barrier with her voice, holding the people back like cattle. He was sure she'd use her sticks on the few she couldn't control.
Rodney gritted his teeth. He was furious at her, anger born of fear. She didn't understand and she wouldn't listen, and he was terrified her unborn son would pay the price for it.
He ran pell-mell to the pole, arms bent on either side of his head to protect him from the objects still being thrown. Teyla's song wove around him, and for a moment he felt almost like he could twine his magic with hers, that it would be easy, they could each augment the other like flame to flame...
But that was idle fantasy, and the reality here was as hard and cold as the ground he was running on and the snow that had just begun to sleet. Rodney careened to a stop, steadying himself with his free hand on the pole. His cloak billowed behind him, useless as a flag in the wind.
The creature turned his head, but all Rodney could see was a swath of dark, mottled skin and a thin line of what might have been blood.
"Don't worry," he said quickly, "I'm getting you out of here."
The creature was still pulling against his bonds, and he flinched violently when Rodney touched him. But he went dead still when he felt the flat of the blade.
"Please don't move," Rodney said and then jerked violently when something squishy hit him in the side of the head. "Sorry! Sorry!" At least it didn't look like he'd cut the man's skin. Rodney applied the blade to the ropes at the creature's shoulders, smiling thinly when they split as easily as string. He always kept this knife very, very sharp.
"Hey!" someone in the crowd shouted, "he's cutting the ropes! He's cutting the ropes!"
"Curse it," Rodney muttered as the rocks and wood started flying in earnest. He made a quick warding sign, managing to knick his finger in the process. It wouldn't do more than deflect some of the projectiles but it was better than nothing. At least no one was coming closer thanks to Teyla and Ronon.
The idiot merchants had used one single length of rope, wrapping the creature from shoulders to knees like a mummy, which meant that as soon as Rodney sliced one section the rest mostly fell away on its own. Rodney grinned in bitter satisfaction as he yanked the pieces away, and then turned his attention to the rope binding the man's wrists together on the far side of the pole. His hands looked human, though they were pale blue; the blood on his wrists was a much darker blue, where the creature had torn his own skin trying to get free. He had blue-black claws instead of nails, unnervingly long and frighteningly sharp. Rodney swallowed, thought about drained cows and headless geese, then shook his head and kept sawing.
He was sure the man would cry out when his wrists were free and the blood could flow back into his hands, but he still didn't make a sound. He just stood still while Rodney knelt to finish cutting the rope, clenching and unclenching his fists.
The man's ankles were similarly bound, looking thin and strangely vulnerable with dark blue blood staining his bare feet nearly to the toes. He had five toes, like a human, each one with a round, blue-black claw like a dog. The skin was freezing cold.
Rodney scrambled backwards as soon as the last rope was gone, half-expecting to be gutted for his kindness, but the man made no move to hurt him. He didn't do anything other than give Rodney a single nod before he pulled his hood back, then slapped his hand around Rodney's wrist, yanking him upright, and started to run.
"Hey! Wait! Let me go!" Rodney galloped helplessly after him, sparing a glance towards Teyla and Ronon. They were still holding back the crowd, attention too focused on their own tasks to see what was happening to him. Teyla's voice wavered a bit as she tired, and Rodney felt a new surge of fear for her. More practically, it meant her barrier was going to break soon, and he hoped they'd all be able to escape before that happened. If his friends were hurt--or, all the Gods forbid--Teyla's baby... Rodney couldn't even let himself contemplate it.
"Barrier! Barrier!" Rodney yelled, seeing the tell-tale shimmer in front of them, the group of very angry merchants crowding behind it. They all scattered when they saw the man coming, which Rodney might have been more pleased about if he and the blue-skinned lizard-person weren't going to break their necks. "Stop!" He tried to plant his feet, but the man just gave him a vicious jerk and Rodney stumbled into him.
The man grabbed Rodney around the waist and leapt, clearing the ducking merchants by at least an arm's length before landing several body lengths away. He hauled Rodney upright, still running, and then clamped his hand on Rodney's wrist again.
"Gods help me," Rodney whimpered. "I hope you know where you're going."
If the man even heard him he didn't answer.
They thundered on like that for what seemed like years, as the snow pelted them and the wind shrieked around Rodney's frozen ears and nose and he thought his lungs would burst. His heart was like a hammer and anvil in his chest, so loud he couldn't even tell if they were being followed over the blood roaring in his ears. And then finally, finally, the man stumbled to a stop, Rodney staggering alongside him.
The blue man stood there, his chest heaving and shivering violently in the cold. Rodney couldn't get a good look at his face in the encroaching dusk, but he was sure the man's hair was shaggy as a wolf's and black as the coming night. His ears were a little pointed, the particular slant of them tugging at Rodney's memory, but he was too busy trying to breathe to make much of it. Besides, the man's eyes were glowing cat-yellow in the dark, and Rodney wasn't yet convinced he wouldn't be eaten.
But the man wasn't paying attention to him. He'd dragged them into the mouth of an alley between tents, so narrow that Rodney's shoulders touched cloth on either side. The man was looking right and left, as if trying to get his bearings, and Rodney felt a new dread pickling his stomach. He pushed the man aside so he could lean his head out and look around as well.
With a start Rodney realized they were about two tents away from Kanaan's, nearly back where he'd started that afternoon.
"I don't believe it--you went the wrong way!" He burst out incredulously. "Do you have any idea how far we are from the city? What were--"
The man slapped a hand over Rodney's mouth, the other on the back of Rodney's neck to keep him still. Rodney's exclamation of shock and fear was muffled by rough, freezing skin. The palm on the back of his neck was like a chunk of ice, trembling violently against him.
The man hissed, and Rodney gripped his knife more tightly, thinking of a spell, but the man did nothing more threatening than slowly pull his hand away from Rodney's mouth. He hissed again, putting a shaking claw over his own lips.
"Oh," Rodney said softly, feeling at once foolish and so relieved he thought his legs might fail him. "You mean be quiet." He nodded. "Sorry."
The man nodded and pulled Rodney away from the alley mouth. He just stood there, breathing heavily and shivering with his hand still on the back of Rodney's neck. Rodney didn't know if that was to keep him there or because the man needed him to stay upright.
"If you're trying to use me as a support, that's a really bad idea, right now." Rodney gulped a few breaths of air. He wiped the sweat and melting snow off his face with his hand, worried about how much it was shaking. And he hadn't noticed while they'd been running in the completely wrong direction, but he was shivering almost as badly as the man was, who was shaking like the canvas in the wind. "Souls in hell," Rodney murmured. He fumbled inside his cloak, forcing his numb fingers to work until he found the pouch of dried fruit. He pulled out a handful and crammed as much as he could into his mouth, chewing as fast as possible until he could swallow the mess without choking. He didn't feel even remotely better, but he hoped it would at least stave off the likely inevitable collapse. He was about to grab some more when he belatedly remembered his companion, and held out the bag with a mixture of resentment and guilt. "Um, do you want any?"
The man just blinked slowly at him, then shook his head. He pushed the bag back towards Rodney with surprising gentleness. Then again, he could probably have sliced Rodney's hand off with those claws, but despite how fiercely he'd been holding Rodney's wrist he hadn't left a mark on him.
"Oh, okay," Rodney said. He took another handful then shoved the bag back into his pocket. He pulled his cloak tight around him. "Here's what we're going to do--"
The man pushed him. There was no force in it, but the meaning was obvious.
"What?" Rodney narrowed his eyes. "Oh no. No way. My friends and I just risked our hides for you, and there's no way I'm just leaving you here! You owe us!" he snapped. "You owe me! Especially after you dragged me all this way in the completely wrong direction!"
The man responded by clapping his palm over Rodney's mouth again, then using his grip to pull Rodney with him deeper into the alley. Rodney froze. He could hear the yelling and clatter of footfalls, terrifyingly loud despite the howling of the wind.
Abruptly the man let go, then gave Rodney another, less gentle, push and turned and ran out of the alley into the main thoroughfare. Immediately the shouting and running got louder and closer to them. Rodney could just make out the dark line of the man's back as he moved into an attack stance, hissing at the mob coming at him.
Rodney realized instantly that the man had done this on purpose, to give Rodney a chance to escape.
"You Wraithraper!" Rodney yelled, but he was already pushing aside the anger; he had to be calm for this, focused, or it wouldn't work at all.
He shrugged his cloak out of the way of his left arm and then put the butt of his knife between his teeth so he could pull his sleeve back. He pressed his elbow against his side to keep his arm steady. The skin of his forearm was a latticework of white scars.
Rodney glanced up, startled by a noise to see a woman come flying into the alley as if she'd been thrown. She landed hard, skidding on her back. She rolled over onto her stomach then pushed herself to wobbly hands and knees.
"Hey!" she barked, seeing Rodney.
Rodney's eyes widened. Then he clenched his jaw and slashed his knife blade down the inside of his arm.
He'd done it off-center on purpose, because he knew if he cut the artery he'd die, but there was still plenty of blood welling, stinging warm against his freezing skin. Hopefully it'd be enough.
Rodney ran down the narrow alley, leaping over the woman who was still on her hands and knees. He landed badly but was able to keep his balance and burst out into the open.
The blue man was in the midst of a brawl, trying to protect himself while being attacked on all sides by a raging group of shopkeepers. As Rodney watched the man grabbed a merchant by the collar of his shirt then used it to throw him into someone trying to get close enough to use his net. They both went down, but a lithe woman who reminded Rodney distressingly of Teyla used the opportunity to swing the mallet she was holding. She hit the man in the back, staggering him. He whirled and sent her reeling with a one-handed shove, only to be hit in the side of the head, this time by a hammer wielded by a large, very angry merchant.
The man dropped to his knees, and Rodney finally had his opening. He ran another few steps and all but threw himself into him. Rodney was already whispering the spell as he wrapped his arms tight around the man's waist, even as his weight bowled them both over to the ground.
Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and thought, Home, home, home, picturing looking out at the night through the giant, beautiful windows of the throne room of his castle, being warm and safe.
And he and the creature disappeared in a bright flash of light.
Rodney's eyes flew open.
He was lying on smooth marble, faintly warm despite it being stone, still holding the man tightly with his nose buried into his coarse, wolf-pelt hair. He stank of garbage and the metallic tang of blood. Rodney turned his head and was staring up at a circle of watch soldiers, all looking a little too wild-eyed for his liking and aiming the very powerful crossbows that Rodney had designed at him.
The man sprang away from him and onto his bare feet, turning and hissing, trying to keep a yellow cat-eye on every soldier at once. He was still shivering, as if he couldn't feel the warmth of the room.
Fear threw Rodney to his feet as well, far faster than he would have liked considering how his legs were almost numb and could barely hold him. He thrust his hands out, realizing a moment later that he and the man were standing back-to-back. He also realized that the bloody knife in his hand might be giving the wrong impression, so he dropped it. "Don't shoot, don't shoot!" he shouted, hoping his words were clear enough despite how badly he was shivering. "He's a friend! We're both friends! Don't kill us!"
"Rodney!" It was Elizabeth, the queen of the City-State of Atlantis, picking her way carefully down the steps of the dais that held her throne. Rodney had rarely been quite so happy to see her. "Rodney! Thank the Gods! Teyla and Ronon were just about to ride out to search for you." She sent a quick glance to Major Lorne and his soldiers, and Lorne jerked his chin at a watchwoman, who took off at a run. Rodney noticed Elizabeth didn't tell the rest to stand down, however, and she didn't come any closer than the foot of the dais, leaving plenty of space between her and the man Rodney had teleported with him. She looked regal as always but decidedly unnerved. "I gather this is the...gentleman the three of you rescued?"
Rodney nodded. Now that things were calming down he wasn't feeling so well anymore. The man moved before Rodney could answer, stepping forward, right in front of the queen. Rodney heard the collective gasp and rattle of weapons and he reached out automatically, snatching for the creature's wrist, his other hand already moving in a ward sign to protect the queen. But the man didn't go any closer. He went unsteadily to one knee in front of Elizabeth, bowing his head and thumping one blue fist over his heart. He stayed that way, head down, completely silent, unmoving except for the faint tremors wracking him, ignoring the soldiers' shocked murmurs.
Rodney blinked down at the man, then at Elizabeth. He knew for certain that there was some deep significance to what had just happened, but he was far too muzzy to understand it.
Elizabeth went very still, and everyone in the throne room seemed to go silent with her. Then she came forward: one step, two, regal despite her limp and what Rodney could see was a minute trembling of her hand as she held it out.
"Show me your mark," she said.
There was a definite rumble of surprise from the soldiers at that, and something tugged at Rodney's memory again, though he couldn't grasp it through his exhaustion.
The man lifted his head and turned it a little to the side, pulling the cowl of his cloak away from his neck at the same time. There was a mark there: a brand that reminded Rodney very much of Ronon's. It wasn't easy to see amongst the rough blue of the creature's skin, but it was undeniably there.
Elizabeth touched it with two of her fingers. The man sucked in an almost silent breath, then pressed his lips together and closed his eyes.
Elizabeth closed her eyes too, her lips silently forming the words of a spell. Rodney glanced down at his arm. The bleeding had slowed but it hadn't stopped yet; he was almost certain it would be good enough for what she was asking, if she forgot to pay for it herself.
The man didn't move and made no noise at all, but Rodney could see how his jaw tightened, as did his hand holding his cowl, and the deepening lines around his closed eyes. The man's shaking got worse. Rodney could see how he was fighting to control it.
A thin curl of grey smoke drifted up from the mark on his neck and flowed around the tips of Elizabeth's fingers.
"Elizabeth!" Rodney barked in warning, and her eyes snapped open. She saw what was happening and yanked her hand back, her eyes enormous with alarm.
The man dropped like her touch had been the only thing holding him upright. He collapsed onto an arm, the other slapped over his neck. He was gasping, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a rictus of pure agony.
"My Lady!" one of the soldiers shouted. Naturally they had their crossbows aimed and primed again, but Elizabeth put up her hand, holding them back.
Rodney fell heavily to his knees next to the man, but he hesitated before he touched him, afraid he'd do him more harm. He gaped at Elizabeth. "What happened?"
Elizabeth shook her head, obviously as distressed and bewildered as he was. "I don't know!" She looked towards the dais. "Radek--!" But of course he wasn't there. She turned to the nearest soldier instead. "Get the physician. Hurry!" She knelt awkwardly, putting her hands on the man as if to offer help or comfort, but he flinched away like her touch alone hurt him. She looked helplessly at Rodney. "It was just a verification spell--what's happening to him?"
"Souls in hell, he's burning!" Lorne exclaimed as he ran towards them. Rodney looked at the man again and saw the thick grey smoke pouring out around his hand. He was writhing and arching in pain, tears leaking from his tightly-shut eyes.
"Oh no." Rodney fumbled his sleeve up, groping for his knife before he remembered that it was lying somewhere on the floor. There was no time to get it now, and Rodney wasn't sure he wouldn't just collapse if he tried to stand anyway. But there were other ways to make a wound bleed.
He dug his thumb into the cut, gritting his teeth and pressing until fresh blood welled. He whispered a short, desperate spell, then grabbed the man's wrist and yanked his hand away from the smoldering mark. And then Rodney slapped his own hand over where the man's had been.
Rodney woke slowly and uncomfortably, with each new layer of awareness revealing just how much more pain he was in.
His feet and legs ached, but he could wiggle his toes which he thought was probably a good sign. The particular heaviness in his chest was sadly familiar and came whenever he ran around in the cold too much. At least Carson knew what to do about it. Rodney also knew why his left arm hurt.
Rodney's head was killing him too, but he was almost certain the constant, loud clanking going on in the background was at least partially responsible for that.
"Radek! Will you stop that infernal clanging already?" he called to the room in general, not bothering to open his eyes. His voice came out a feeble croak and he started coughing.
"You're awake!" Radek said delightedly. The clanking just got louder as he thumped over to Rodney's bed. Rodney opened his eyes to glare at him, but Radek was grinning, which was so rare these days that Rodney didn't have the heart to complain. He was holding a drinking bowl gingerly in both his hands. "We were beginning to think you were ensorcelled."
Rodney looked at him, trying to process what Radek had just said. He levered himself up onto his elbows, wincing at how much even that movement hurt, then inched backwards until he could sit with his back against the wall. He sighed as the castle's warmth immediately started seeping into him. "What do you mean?" he asked, gratefully taking the bowl. He drank deeply, noting that it tasted exactly like Kanaan's restorative tea. He kept drinking until he finished it, then absently handed it back to Radek and looked around. But other than the daylight pouring in through the large infirmary windows he had no idea what time it was. "How long was I unconscious?"
Radek looked pained. "It's been nearly three days," he said, as he clumsily put the bowl on a nearby table. He reached up to adjust his spectacles, the joints of his fingers whirring and clicking with the fine movement. "As I said, we were very worried."
"Three days?" Rodney repeated. He looked around again, as if the infirmary would give him some clue as to what happened to him now that he'd been told about it. His eyes widened and he yanked up his hands to look at the palms, but other than the linen bandage covering most of his left forearm, his arms and his hands were fine.
"What's wrong?" Radek asked, leaning closer. Rodney could hear the faint machine noise as Radek's eyes adjusted to the change in distance. Radek's spectacles weren't necessary anymore, but no one had said anything when he kept them.
"I thought my hand might be burned," Rodney said, still staring at his palms. Touching the man's mark had felt like grabbing a branding iron; he'd been sure his hand would be seared to the bone. He looked at Radek again, suddenly realizing that they were the only two people in the infirmary. "Where's the lizard man? Did he--is he all right?"
"Mmm, good question," Radek said. He took off his spectacles and held them over his free hand. He concentrated and the palm opened, releasing a small gout of steam. "The answer is yes, and no, I believe." He squinted at the lenses, then nodded in satisfaction and slipped them over his ears again. They didn't quite hang correctly anymore because Radek's ears were thick, solid rectangles, though his hearing hadn't seemed to change. "I wasn't there, as you know, but Elizabeth told me that whatever you cast apparently stopped the burning, though Five was still in terrible pain until Carson arrived and cast a palliative. She said he also became very, ah, agitated when you collapsed. He wouldn't let anyone near you." Radek shook his head. The lenses of his eyes were alight with bemused wonder. "It was most tense for a few moments. Luckily Teyla was able to sing him calm."
Rodney winced, thinking of how Teyla had kept most of the crowd back and then having to hurry through the freezing cold night with the baby growing inside her, then the strain of another song spell. "Is she all right?"
"She's fine," Radek said, smiling again. "Carson ordered her to do nothing but rest until tomorrow, however, or I'm certain she would be here." His smile turned apologetic, then bitter. "Ronon and our queen are also occupied at the moment, which is why they asked me to be here in their stead. This much I am able to do."
"Thanks," Rodney said quickly. "Where's Carson?" he asked, changing the subject before Radek became morose. Rodney never knew how to deal with that.
"He is with Five," Radek said. "But he left instructions for me to get him as soon as, or if, you awakened. Which I should have done already," he added, expression darkening. He hit the side of his head with the heel of his hand with a sound like pots banging in the kitchen. He spoke angrily in his own eastern tongue.
"Hey, hey, don't do that! It's all right!" Rodney said hurriedly. He grabbed Radek's nearer wrist, forcing himself not to recoil at the feel of metal that was warm as blood. "You'll jam a gear or something! You might--"
He cut himself off so abruptly that his teeth snapped together, but of course Radek had already heard it.
"I know," he said sadly. He gripped his hands in his lap, looking down at them, the springs that replaced the hair on his head jangled faintly. "Already I am forgetting so much." He looked up again, the slit of his mouth canted down in a despairing line. "Carson is able to do less and less to even slow it down. Soon I will be a Golem in mind as well as body."
"Don't say that!" Rodney blurted, fear making his voice sharp. He put his hand over Radek's, ignoring the mechanical pulse he could feel through the metal. "Look, I'm a genius, right? I'm going to figure out something to fix this. Or Elizabeth will--"
"Elizabeth will also be a Golem," Radek said flatly. "Both her legs are metal now, you know."
Five for transformation, Rodney thought abruptly, then didn't know why that was in his head until he mentally replayed part of the conversation. "Hey," he said, grateful for another reason not to think of Elizabeth's slow, awkward walking or Radek's misery. "Why do you keep calling the lizard-man 'Five'?"
The shutters over Radek's eyes clicked closed then open again. "He doesn't speak. Ronon gave the name to him."
Rodney's eyebrows met in irritated confusion. "Of course he can speak! He spoke to me! Wait," he said a moment later, remembering. The man had been absolutely clear, but he hadn't actually said a word. "Oh."
Radek gave a whirring, clicking shrug. "He will not speak or write, if he is even able to, so he had no name until Ronon gave him one."
"Oh," Rodney said again. Naming someone with a number seemed like an insult to him, except that he knew Ronon would never have made the decision lightly. Five for transformation. He wondered what Ronon might have seen.
"Why is Carson with him?" Rodney asked worriedly, thinking of the smoke pouring from beneath Five's hand. "You said he was all right, right?"
Radek's eyes clicked shut and open again, like he was trying to remember, and Rodney fought not to react. "He is, physically," he said at last. "He heals very fast. But he won't eat or drink."
"What?" Rodney demanded. "You mean, nothing? It's been three days!"
Radek spread his clumsy mechanical hands. "This is only what I have been told."
Rodney rubbed his forehead. Five was quickly becoming the bane of his existence. "Fine," he said, sighing. "Find me a robe or something and take me to where Carson is. He wanted to see me anyway!" Rodney snapped when Radek looked uncertain.
"True," Radek said, though he still seemed dubious. He clanked slowly to his feet. "I believe there is some clothing in Carson's sanctum."
Rodney waited impatiently while Radek shuffled off. He felt a little guilty about taking advantage of Radek's loss of reasoning, but he'd been asleep for three days and didn't want to keep getting information secondhand, and he was sure Radek had missed telling him something important. He also felt bizarrely responsible for the lizard-man's health and well being, though he couldn't fathom why he should.
Radek had been getting lost a lot lately, so Rodney was very glad that he could guess where Elizabeth had quartered Five. This part of Atlantis Castle was as open and airy as the rest of it, with high, sun-filled windows spilling light onto the off-white stone, but it wasn't used very often, mostly because the rooms weren't quite as fine as on the upper levels. They were smaller and only had single doors, but one door was easier to guard than two.
Rodney supposed he could understand that, especially after what Radek had told him, but even though this definitely wasn't the dungeon, he thought Five deserved better than being treated with suspicion after Elizabeth's own spell had left him half-dead on the throne room floor.
Rodney realized he'd never found out what Elizabeth's spell had revealed to her, before Five's mark started burning.
"I really don't think we were meant to come here," Radek said, clanking after him and wringing his hands with a sound like twisting chains. "I am almost certain Carson told me to make sure you rested." Radek nodded firmly to himself. "Yes, I'm sure that's what he said."
Rodney didn't slow his brisk stride. "I've been resting for three days," he reminded Radek. He had to grab his leggings when they started to slip again and then was forced to stop, cursing eloquently as he re-tied the knot in the drawstring. The spare set of tunic and leggings were obviously Carson's and definitely too big, and Rodney's feet were bare.
"Move it," he snapped at the burly guard standing outside what had to be Five's door. The soldier blinked, looked like he was going to argue, but just slunk aside when Rodney narrowed his eyes at him. "Wait here," he ordered Radek before he shoved the door open.
Carson was standing in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, looking in exasperation up at a corner of the ceiling. The room was typically, gorgeously bright, sunlight pouring in cheerfully through the high, arched windows and illuminating everything.
"...At least try it, you bloody stubborn--" Carson whirled around at the sound of the door opening, his shock turning to annoyance. "Rodney! What are you doing out of the infirmary?"
"Radek said you wanted to see me," Rodney said, since he knew that Carson wouldn't blame Radek for mixing up his instructions, even though Radek actually hadn't. He took a quick glance around the room, taking in the obviously untouched bed, the full water pitcher and empty basin on the washstand, and the array of food set out on the small wooden table like a buffet.
And Five, so high up in one corner he was tucked just under the ceiling, the one place in the room the sunlight couldn't touch. He was glaring down at Carson, but his head jerked up immediately when the door opened. He saw Rodney and his eyes widened. Five's whole body twitched, like he was about to jump down, but he didn't. Instead he pressed himself further up in the corner and glowered at Carson with such an expression of stubborn defiance that after Rodney got over his surprise that Five had climbed up the wall, he burst out laughing.
"Oh, this amuses you, does it?" Carson snarled. He was obviously at the end of his patience. "You're lucky I don't have the watch drag you back to the infirmary and tie you to the bed! And you've stolen my clothes, I see!" His anger faded as he looked Rodney up and down. "You're feeling all right, then?"
"Just the usual headache, chest-pain and weakness, with added running-induced muscle strain this time for variation." Rodney shot another look at Five when he said that, but Five's expression didn't change. "Nothing I won't get over. What the hell's going on here, anyway?"
"The great bloody git won't eat or drink, that's what's going on!" Carson snapped, but his attention was still on Rodney. He took Rodney's wrist and pushed back his sleeve so he could examine the bandaged cut. "At least it looks all right," he said. He pressed gently over the area of the wound, looking at Rodney's face. "Any heat or pain?"
Rodney shook his head. "It's fine. You know I keep my knife clean."
"Aye," Carson said scornfully, "but not even the cleanest blade can compensate for slashing yourself while rolling around in garbage!" He shook his head, making 'tsk, tsk' noises like he was Rodney's grandmother. "The things you do to yourself, Rodney. Ach."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "I'm a mage, remember? What do you want me to do? Give a promissory note?"
Carson's lips tightened, but he just shook his head and let Rodney's arm go. "It doesn't have to be like that, Rodney," he said. "The Recompense--"
"Yes it does have to be like that," Rodney retorted, cutting Carson off. He roughly tugged his sleeve down over the bandage. "It has to be like that, and you know why."
Carson looked like he was going to argue, then just sighed and shook his head again. "It wasn't just you, Rodney," he said.
"I know," Rodney said tightly. "And we're not discussing it. I'm here to find out what the hell is wrong with Five, anyway. Radek said he hasn't eaten or drunk anything for three days."
"That's true," Carson said. He gestured tiredly at the table. "I've had every kind of food I can think of brought, and milk, water, cider and even beer and wine. The daft bugger won't touch it."
"Hm," Rodney said. He went to the table and poured himself a drinking bowl of cider, looking at the assortment of food. There was oatmeal and boiled eggs and dried fruit, three different kinds of meat and fish, root vegetables from the cellar and fresh leafy greens and ripe fruit from the hothouse. There was bread and cheese and butter, and Carson must have felt desperate, because there was also a plate of the delectable honey cakes he condemned as nothing but fat and sugar.
Rodney neatly sliced a cake in half with one of the cheese knives and slapped a thick dollop of butter onto it. He took a huge bite, ignoring Carson's eye roll, and looked back up at Five.
"They're delicious," he said around a mouthful. "I'm serious. I could eat these things all the time."
Five was watching him attentively, as if he hadn't seen people eating before, but he stayed completely still. Only his eyes were moving, glowing like an animal's in the semi-dark.
Rodney swallowed the last bite of honey cake and then noisily sucked the crumbs off his fingers. He examined the table again. "Yeah, I wouldn't touch the oatmeal either," he said, "and I hate pears. The chicken is always good, though." He picked up a piece of carved chicken with his fingers and folded it into his mouth. Thanks to the restorative back in the infirmary he'd forgotten how hungry he was, but now his appetite had come back with a vengeance. He chewed happily. "You really should try this stuff."
Five shook his head. He looked at Rodney, then at Carson, then at the door.
"Huh," Rodney said, understanding. "He's asking you to leave," he said to Carson.
"What?" Carson looked incredulous. "He doesn't bloody talk!"
"He can still communicate!" Rodney retorted. "And he wants you to leave!"
Carson gave him a glare, but then he turned to Five. "That true, you want me to clear off, then?"
Five's expression was blank, but he nodded.
Carson's expression went a little blacker. "Tired of my company, are you?" He shook his head, throwing up his hands in annoyance. "Fine, then." He looked at Rodney. "Maybe you can talk some sense into him, since you two seem to have some kind of understanding." He pointed at the food. "And don't eat yourself sick! Remember you're stomach's been empty for days!"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Rodney waved a hand negligently. He cut himself a piece of cheese. "My stomach's like cast iron."
"I'm sure you'll be saying that when you're back in the infirmary sick as a dog," Carson groused. "I'll be outside the door. Call if you need anything."
"Absolutely," Rodney said. He popped the cheese in his mouth. "Go already."
Carson left, muttering to himself. He slammed the door behind him.
The instant the door shut Five launched himself off the wall, landing neatly in a crouch almost at Rodney's feet.
Rodney jumped back with a small yelp. "Don't do that! Do you have any idea how unnerving that is?"
Five didn't answer, not that Rodney really expected him to. He straightened, then just stood there looking at Rodney.
Rodney gulped, a little intimidated by the intensity of Five's scrutiny. "I'm fine," he said quietly, guessing that's what Five wanted to know. "Are you all right?"
Five nodded. He did look all right, Rodney decided. He'd gotten cleaned up over the last three days, which meant he probably smelled better than Rodney did. The wounds that had bloodied his face were completely gone. His hair was the same blue-black as his claws, now that Rodney could see it in brighter light, but it looked almost fluffy with being clean. Rodney had an insane urge to touch it, to see if it felt soft now, but he kept his hands carefully at his sides.
Rodney was already well-acquainted with Five's cat eyes, but he hadn't been able to register much more about his face than 'scaly' and 'blue'. It was definitely both of those, pebbled like lizard skin with larger bumps on his neck that smoothed out and got smaller until they disappeared into an oddly pretty blue-grey at his forehead and temples. Five was wearing a simple, clean tunic shirt that was very much like the one Rodney had stolen from Carson, and the off-white wool looked surprisingly good against the blue of his skin. The neckline was open enough to let Rodney see Five's mark. It looked like a brand, nothing more. If Rodney hadn't seen it smoking with his own eyes he would never have believed it.
"How are your wrists and ankles?" Rodney asked. It felt wrong to break the silence that had settled between them, even though it hadn't been purposeful.
Five cocked his head, but he held up his hands so that the sleeves slid down his arms. His wrists and hands were as blue as the rest of him, as blue as Rodney remembered, with those deadly-looking claws. But the wrists were smooth, clean of the blood Rodney had seen or the injuries that had caused it. Rodney assumed Five's ankles would be the same.
"I'm glad you're all right," Rodney said, meaning it deeply. He gestured at his throat, wincing. "When that..." He stopped, shaking his head. "I thought you were going to die. I thought that we'd killed you."
Five shook his head. He didn't smile, but he tipped his chin in a way that Rodney knew meant he shouldn't worry about it, like it was perfectly natural to have a brand on your neck start smoldering.
"Of course I'm going to worry about it!" Rodney barked, earning a catlike blink. "Your neck was burning because the queen put her fingers on it!" Rodney gestured at Five's mark, and he reared back. "Sorry! Sorry," Rodney said quickly. "But you see? That's a problem, isn't it?"
Five shook his head. He touched his mark then tapped his chest.
"It's not just your problem!" Rodney spat. "Who did that to you, anyway?" He made a quick gesture that encompassed Five's entire body, from his wild hair to his bare, clawed feet. "What happened to you?"
Five's quick jerk of a headshake was answer enough to that.
"Fine," Rodney huffed, crossing his arms. "I'll just find out eventually, you realize. I'm a genius and a mage, and if you don't tell me I'll just--what are you doing?"
Five had grabbed Rodney's left arm. There was no question of Rodney even trying to pull back, but Five's touch was as gentle as it had been in the Market, like he knew exactly how much force he could use without hurting. He carefully pushed Rodney's sleeve away from the bandage, then held Rodney's arm in both hands, his head bent close to the injury. Rodney wondered if his sight was bad, until he realized by the soft puffs of air that Five was sniffing it. It was bizarre and strangely clinical and uncomfortably intimate all at once, and Rodney knew his face was bright red by the time Five finally seemed satisfied and let him have his arm back.
"Carson does know what he's doing, you know," Rodney said, entirely failing to put any bite in it.
Five just arched his eyebrows, slanting a glance at the food.
"What?" Rodney asked indignantly, feeling affronted on Carson's behalf. "Don't tell me you don't like any of this! You're not the first Shield I've ever met, you know, and I can tell you for sure that Ronon...what?"
Five had visibly stiffened at the word. He stepped back, his expression inscrutable but something close to panic in every tense line of his frame.
"What?" Rodney asked again, then he remembered what he'd said and the confused annoyance drained out of him. He gestured at his neck. "It's, ah, not exactly like the Shield mark of my friend, but it's pretty distinctive all the same." He took a step towards Five and was gratified that he didn't retreat, though the tension remained. "I was in the throne room when you pledged your fealty. I mean, I was half-dead from you dragging me all over that damned Market, but you had to know I'd figure it out eventually." He shrugged a little, meaning it as a kind of apology. "Your mark started burning during Elizabeth's verification spell. She was making sure it was real." He took another step, until they were within arm's length again. Five's expression was still completely shuttered. Rodney could only guess at what might be churning underneath. "You have to know there's nothing but honor and respect--"
Five hissed at him, and Rodney shut up immediately. Five shook his head, then slowly lifted his hand to his mark and deliberately slashed his claws across it, obscuring it in rows of blood.
"What are you doing?" Rodney demanded, horrified that Five had just slit his own throat. But the three gashes he'd left were minor and superficial, Rodney realized. They'd probably disappear as quickly as Five's other wounds had.
But he'd made his point. "You're not a Shield of Pegasus anymore," Rodney said.
Five nodded. He turned away.
"I'm sorry," Rodney said softly. He reached for Five's shoulder, wanting to offer comfort, but Five swung around as soon as Rodney's fingers touched him. His face was all but blank again, as if nothing had happened at all. He pushed past Rodney and walked back over to the table.
Rodney sighed and followed. "All right," he said, "Carson's having a fit about this, and I'd really rather not watch you die of thirst or hunger either. So could you please tell me what the hell's wrong with the food?"
Five looked at him and then back at the table, obviously thinking. He rubbed the back of his neck, as if he was embarrassed about something, then reached out and picked up a raw carrot. It took him a few tries to be able to fumble it into his hands, and Rodney made a mental note to get something that would cut Five's claws.
Five turned back to Rodney and held up the carrot with an air of obvious expectation.
"Okay..." Rodney said, raising his eyebrows. "You only eat vegetables."
Five shook his head.
"That's good," Rodney said, "because otherwise I don't think we could be friends." He was startled by an odd, barking noise and snapped his head up, only to realize that Five was laughing.
Rodney felt his face heating up again. "That, um, that wasn't a joke," he said, but he couldn't help smiling either. He hadn't thought Five could even smile, let alone laugh. It looked really good on him, blue skin and all.
Five tapped the carrot delicately with a claw and arched an eyebrow.
"Yes, I'll figure this out, give me a minute!" Rodney said. He snapped his fingers. "Raw! You can only eat things raw?" He made a face. "Yuck."
Five shook his head.
"Not raw?" Rodney asked. "Then what...?"
Five pointed at the meat, then at the carrot, then at the meat again. He didn't look even remotely happy anymore.
Rodney followed his gestures, trying to figure it out. "Okay, the meat has to be raw, but you can't eat it raw. So you have to..." He stared at Five. "Alive? The animals have to be still alive?"
Five nodded with obvious reluctance, looking like he was admitting some terrible shame.
"Well, yeah, I can see how that would be unpleasant," Rodney said. He looked at the table again, with the slices of chicken and pork and mutton, and remembered what the merchant had said, how Five had pulled the head off a goose. His appetite disappeared. "What, ah, what animal do you need?"
Five shrugged, but he wouldn't meet Rodney's eyes. He pointed vaguely in the direction of the chicken.
"Chicken?" Rodney asked. Five nodded. "Is one enough?" Another nod, though Rodney was fairly certain Five had already decided to eat as little as possible, as if he had to protect their delicate sensibilities. Rodney almost said something about it but decided it wouldn't be worth the argument. He promised himself he'd make sure Five got two chickens anyway. Five could always send one back if he really didn't want it. "Okay, I'll ask the kitchen to send up a chicken, is that all right?"
Five gave a tiny nod then seemed to force himself to look at Rodney again. He pointed to the table, then to the window.
"You'd rather eat outside?" Rodney asked. Then he snapped his fingers, realizing. "Oh! You mean hunt, don't you? You want to go hunting!"
Five nodded again, looking marginally less unhappy.
"I suppose that can be arranged," Rodney said. He tapped his chin, thinking. Five had already been in the castle of Atlantis long enough that if he'd meant anyone harm he would have done it. Considering what Rodney knew of his strength, one measly guard at the door wouldn't have prevented Five going on a rampage, especially since he could climb walls. "Do you want to go now?"
Five shook his head, looking chagrined. He put his hand over his stomach.
Rodney smirked in sympathy. "Too hungry. Yeah, I understand. Don't worry, I'll make sure you get a nice, fat chicken. Do you need anything to drink?"
Five shook his head. Maybe he drank blood; Rodney really didn't want to know.
"Okay, then," Rodney said. He felt awkward suddenly, just leaving, but he wasn't sure what else to say or if he was even still welcome. Maybe Shields who said they weren't Shields but were also lizard-men preferred to be alone. "Is there, um, is there anything else you need?"
Five shook his head again, but he touched Rodney's arm when Rodney would have turned to leave.
"What is it?" Rodney asked. Five's hand was still cooler than normal flesh, but at least it didn't have the terrible cold of the night in the Market. Rodney had no idea how Five had been able to run when he'd been so cold.
Five touched Rodney's bandaged forearm, then his mark, leaving his palm over it the way Rodney had.
"Oh," Rodney said. He shrugged. "Just my usual quick thinking under pressure. It was a simple negation," he explained, pointing at his own neck as if Five needed any kind of illustration. "I just negated Elizabeth's spell. I was almost certain that would stop what happened." It was more like that had been the first thing he could think of in a desperate attempt to stop Five's agony. But there was no way in hell he would ever let Five know that. He shrugged again, making himself smile. "You're just lucky I was with you."
Five nodded with complete seriousness. He slowly and obviously shaped the word 'thank you' with his lips.
Rodney blinked. He was ashamed to realize it hadn't actually occurred to him that Five had once been able to speak, even though he obviously understood whatever was said to him. Rodney smiled uncomfortably. "You're welcome." Normally he loved praise--he never got enough of it, as far as he was concerned--but it didn't seem right to be thanked for stopping something that shouldn't have happened in the first place.
Five gave him a small flicker of a smile in return. He hesitated, and then suddenly darted forward and grabbed Rodney's hand, making Rodney yelp in surprise. He put Rodney's fingers against his mark and held them there.
"No! What are you doing?" Rodney tried to pull his hand free, but Five's grip was like iron. He held Rodney's hand to his mark, his animal eyes locked to Rodney's terrified ones, until Rodney finally realized that Five's mark wasn't burning. He wasn't in any kind of pain, even though Rodney had been touching him for more than long enough to cause it.
"It was the spell?" Rodney asked. "Any spell?" He still had his fingers on Five's neck. It felt almost exactly like lizard skin, cool but not unpleasantly so. The texture was fascinating.
Five nodded but then shook his head. He let Rodney's hand go.
"Verification spells," Rodney clarified. "Anytime anyone wants to verify that you're a Shield of Pegasus, it causes you unbearable agony?"
Five nodded.
"Why?" Rodney asked. "That doesn't make any sense."
Five shrugged. He mimicked slashing his mark again.
"You're not a Shield anymore, so trying to verify it burns you?" Rodney made a face. "That's stupid! It's like, what? You're being punished every time someone--"
Five nodded again, and looked away.
Rodney gaped at him. "You knew that was going to happen, didn't you? You knew, but you didn't stop her."
Five nodded. He was looking somewhere out the window, squinting in the light.
"Why didn't you stop her?" Rodney asked.
The brief look Five gave him was as bleak as it was eloquent.
"Yeah," Rodney said quietly. "I guess you couldn't." He sighed. "I'm sorry."
Five shrugged. He looked out the window again.
Rodney followed his gaze. "Is it too bright in here?" He gestured at the tall, arched windows. "I can tell them to put up curtains, or nail up a blanket, or something."
Five nodded.
"All right," Rodney swallowed. "I'll, uh, I guess I'll go, then. I'll make sure you get something to eat."
Five didn't move. Rodney let out a silent breath and went to the door.
He had his hand on the latch when he stopped, turned around again. "You're still a Shield," he said.
Five stared at him.
"You are!" Rodney insisted, sure of it. He held out his hands, indicating the pleasant, airy room. "You have to be! Do you really think Queen Elizabeth would let you stay in a barely-guarded wing of the castle if she wasn't sure she could trust you? You pledged your fealty to her, right there in the throne room! That--that's sacred! You couldn't...there's no way she'd let you stay here if she didn't think you meant that!" He strode across the room until he was face-to-face with Five again. He touched Five's mark with is fingertips, and Five closed his eyes but didn't move away. "Maybe something bad happened and you were kicked out of the mead hall. I get that. I...other people make mistakes, too, sometimes. Sometimes we make really bad ones. But it doesn't change who you are, does it?" Rodney pulled his hand back. "You don't need a burn on your neck to make you a knight."
Five looked at him for a long moment before he turned away again. He took a single step, then leapt onto the wall and climbed up it, until he was all but hidden next to the ceiling. Rodney had no idea what that meant.
Rodney stayed there, hoping Five would come down again, wishing there was something he could say.
He could feel Five watching him, all the way out the door.
Part Two: The Zero-Sum Game
When Rodney left Five's room, the burly guard told him that Carson had taken Radek back to the infirmary for another treatment, and that Rodney had been given 'strict instructions to go to his room and stay there until tomorrow morning', which Rodney naturally ignored. He did go back to his room after stopping in the kitchens for some food, but only long enough to take a bath.
He'd designed the aqueduct himself (of course), that piped in water from the nearby springs, and he'd expected to need to have screwpumps built into the walls to circulate the water though the palace. But as soon as the duct had been connected to the castle, Atlantis itself had started channeling the water as if it knew how the water would be used. Rodney tried not to think of the castle taking initiative as anything other than convenient.
Teyla and Ronon insisted the castle of Atlantis was magic. Rodney in turn insisted that while the whole city had definitely been built with magic, and the castle might occasionally even use magic in accordance to its original builder's designs, the city and castle themselves weren't magic. There was a difference.
Of course, Teyla and Ronon also insisted that everything, everywhere, was magic, so that using magic was no different than using one's body. Rodney knew better. The universe wasn't magic; magic was a substance, like fire or water. It was abundant and incredibly powerful and could be manipulated with the correct application of knowledge and will. But if you didn't use it properly, you'd be immolated or drowned. Or worse: other people would be, and you'd be forced to watch it happening. That was why it terrified him to see the casual, unthinking way Teyla and Carson used magic, because he knew that someday they'd be forced to pay for what they'd taken. Every wizard would, sooner or later. It was the first thing mages ever learned, and Rodney had lived it.
Magic was a zero-sum game. If you didn't sacrifice as much as you were given, you would lose.
Rodney carefully unwound the bandage on his arm so he could clean the wound, which made him think of Five and his attentive sniffing, which made Rodney scowl at himself. There hadn't actually been anything intimate about it, despite how it might have felt, briefly, at the time. It was no different than the countless times Carson had prodded and mumbled his spells at Rodney's wounds to check for infection. Just because Carson wasn't an enigmatic stranger with compelling yellow eyes and oddly fascinating blue skin....
"Leave it," Rodney snapped at himself, scrubbing a little harder than strictly necessary. Teyla had made the soap for him out of some of Kanaan's herbs not actually meant for tea. It was supposed to be especially useful at preventing infections. Rodney rubbed it vigorously over the cut on his arm, wincing a bit at the sting. The cut was healing nicely but it was still an angry red, bisecting and twinning all the other scars. Other wizards called them 'mage lines'. It was always said with a mixture of insult and awed admiration.
There were scars on Rodney's right arm as well, but fewer, because it was harder to manipulate the knife with his off-hand. Fewer still were the scars on his stomach and legs, for the rare times he'd been that desperate.
The part where he'd gouged the lesion with his fingers was looking a little too angry, so Rodney cleaned it again before he continued with the rest of his body. The guest rooms had their own private baths like this one, and Rodney wondered if Five had used his to wash himself, and if someone had thought to give him soap, or if the heat of the water had finally made him warm.
"You need to stop thinking about him," Rodney said out loud. He made a face at his own stupidity as he finished rinsing and climbed out of the bath, hissing at the cold touch of the air. Five wasn't even human--he didn't even have a name--but the fact that Rodney couldn't dredge up much anxiety over either of those things was more than a little terrifying in and of itself. Magery forbade becoming too close to anyone; the chair had been a brutal reminder of why.
Chances were good that even if they somehow managed to survive the upcoming siege, afterwards Five would be gone anyway. He had no reason to stay, and even if he wanted to, the fiasco in the Market had shown very well how accepted he would be outside the castle walls.
Maybe Five would at least stay long enough to give Rodney a chance to reverse the spell on him.
Rodney sighed loudly and pulled up the clay stopper for the drain, not even trying to fool himself that he'd be happy when Five left. Relieved, yes, but no, not happy. It was already too late for that.
Of course, chances were even better that they'd all be dead soon, not that that was even remotely comforting.
Rodney dried himself as quickly as possible then re-bandaged the cut and pulled on his warmest clothes, though he was still hugging himself while he looked over the few items he had left in his wardrobe. He didn't care much for fashion, finding it trivial and annoying. He always ended up regretting his lack of suitable clothing when winter came, though, and then in summer always forgot to do anything about it.
He noticed the temperature in his room steadily getting warmer, until he was just at the point of being too hot. He smiled but stopped short of actually thanking Atlantis, because the castle was just doing what it had been designed to do.
Still, it was undeniably more pleasant in his room now, and Rodney almost wished he actually intended to stay there as he pulled on his boots and went back out into the much colder hallway. He hoped the merchants who were stupid enough to brave the weather and Wraith weren't having too hard a time of it heading back to their own lands. Especially Kanaan, whom Rodney knew would have already left to rejoin the other Athosians, despite being welcome in the castle.
The first harried servant he passed in the hallway was more than happy to confirm that Elizabeth was in what they'd come to call the 'War Room'. It was actually the palace's largest library, but it had the benefit of an enormous round table, which made it the default location for large meetings. It also had a well-screened fireplace that was as large as the one in the kitchen, which made it an oddly pleasant place to contemplate their likely destruction.
The fire was indeed roaring when Rodney entered through one of the two large wooden doors, casting playful light on the otherwise dimly-lit room. The library didn't have many windows, in order to protect the valuable books and scrolls from the sun.
Queen Elizabeth was seated at the large table, along with Ronon and Major Lorne. Rodney was only a little surprised to see Teyla, who gave him a knowing, conspiratorial smile when she saw him. She was looking typically beautiful in the simple pleated dress that had been specially cut to accommodate her pregnancy. Seeing her well swept Rodney with a surge of relief so intense it shocked him.
"Rodney," Elizabeth said, looking pleased. "I didn't expect to see you."
"That's because he shouldn't be here," Carson said crossly. "I left strict instructions for you to rest, Rodney!"
Rodney ignored him. "Where's Radek?" he asked, looking around for him.
"Resting in his quarters," Carson snapped. "The way you should be."
"Teyla's here," Rodney said, smiling sweetly when that got exactly the sour response he figured it would.
"Aye, because neither of you can follow a simple order, apparently." Carson sat back and crossed his arms. "It's a wonder the queen keeps me on at all, really, considering how none of you ever do as I say."
"I'm sure you know how high you are in our esteem, Carson," Teyla said soothingly, smiling at him. "But I found it impossible to continue resting, knowing what is to come." She glanced at Rodney. "I'm certain Rodney felt the same."
"Yup," Rodney said. "My Queen." He turned to Elizabeth and gave her the shortened version of the mage's pledge of fealty. Elizabeth inclined her head regally in response. Rodney nodded to Lorne and the other courtiers at the table then sat down next to Ronon. He patted Ronon on the shoulder by way of greeting, and got a slap on the back hearty enough to send him coughing.
"So, now that I'm here, what have I missed?" Rodney asked.
"Planning escape routes out of the city," Lorne said. He nodded his chin at two of the other people at the table. One was a complete stranger but a member of the City Watch by her uniform, and the other one was one of the Courtiers of Science Rodney worked with on a regular basis. "Parrish is an animist specializing in plants--he thinks he can use the forest on our border to slow down the Wraith."
Rodney looked at him, surprised. "You can do that?" Parrish was gangly and as weedy-looking as the plants he was always fussing with. Rodney had never seen him do magic more complicated than convincing flowers to bloom.
Parrish nodded, looking nervous. "I, ah, think so? If I have enough time, I mean. It will--I realize it'll be a lot of work--"
Rodney looked at Elizabeth. "Why isn't he out there now?"
"Because making the forest impassible will impede our own soldiers," Lorne said. He tapped the nearest map of the cluster spread out on the table, each one of them showing a portion of the city and the vast surrounding countryside dotted with villages and towns. "It will also prevent the citizens from escaping to the West."
"Right now it's safest behind the city walls," Ronon said, "but it's not going to stay that way for long. The only ways we have of leaving the city is by sea or by the western road, and we don't have enough ships, so it has to be the road."
"Which goes right through the forest," Rodney said, nodding in understanding. He was sure Parrish could keep the road itself clear, but that would leave too much possibility for the Wraith to find their way onto it.
"Elisha knows elemental magic," Teyla said, gesturing at the watchwoman. "We are examining the likelihood of using her magic to enhance the building of a tunnel out of the city that would join the road on the other side of the forest.
Rodney looked at the rest of the table. "That's not possible. I don't care how good an elementalist she is. Even ten elementalists couldn't build a tunnel half that distance in the time we have."
"That's what I was saying." Carson was nodding vehemently. "And we all know how unpredictable elemental magic can be, and the risk of some catastrophe increases with the number of spells. Two days in and we might well have the tunnel falling on our heads."
"Now isn't the time to be speaking of worst-case scenarios," Elizabeth said.
"Actually, I think now is exactly the time to be speaking of worst-case scenarios!" Rodney said angrily. He looked pointedly at Elizabeth. "Or is what happened to Radek not enough of an object lesson?" He didn't mention that it was happening to Elizabeth as well. By the look on her face he knew he didn't need to.
"Rodney!" Teyla said sharply. "She is the queen!"
"She's also a mage, just like I am," Rodney said to her, though he was still looking at Elizabeth. "And she knows I'm right."
Elizabeth nodded. "I didn't say we should ignore the possible dangers, Rodney, but if we only worry about consequences, we'll still be paralyzed when the Wraith storm our gates!" She turned to Ronon. "Has your augury told you anything?"
Ronon shook his head. "Nothing comes up for tunnels at all. I don't think we should do it." He slapped his palm down on the table. "We can make all the escape plans we want, but if the Wraith win, we'll have nowhere to go anyway. My people knew that, that's why we took as many of them with us as we could."
"Yes, but not even the fabled Sadetan Shields of Pegasus could defeat the Wraith," one of the other courtiers said, a wizened curmudgeon who Rodney thought he might have seen making ashes glow or whatnot. The old man looked mournfully at Elizabeth. "And most of the other Shields of Pegasus were slain when their cities fell. Here, even in mighty Atlantis, we have but one. How can we possibly hope to save ourselves when even Sadeta could not?"
"My people do not use Shields," Teyla said curtly, "nor do most of the peoples of Pegasus. That's why there are so few of them. They are fine warriors, yes, but they are not unique in their abilities." She looked at Rodney as she continued speaking. "And Atlantis has the most powerful users of magic in all the lands." She gave the old elementalist a small and none-too-warm smile. "Do not dig our graves yet. There are more methods of defense than shields."
Rodney swallowed. "That--that's true," he said, though he wanted to add that he honestly didn't think that even the best wizards anywhere would help against at least a thousand Wraith. "But we have two Shields, not just one."
There was an instant buzz of surprise in response. "Two?" the old man asked, his watery eyes widening. "Where did this second come from?" He turned to Elizabeth. "Another Shield! Why were there no proper introductions?"
Elizabeth cast a quick, angry glance at Rodney. "Now is not the time for ceremonies," she said to the wizened elementalist with her best diplomatic smile. "And in any case, Teyla is right--we shouldn't just be relying on our offensive capabilities."
Rodney snagged the map and pulled it away from Lorne. It was of the north wall of the city, which was only separated from the castle by the outer bailey, and also the part of the wall closest to the forest. It wasn't like he hadn't looked at all the maps more than enough times to memorize every line, but he scrutinized the drawings all the same. There was the West Road, heading out into the open country and presumably away from the Wraith hordes, and there was where it curved and was swallowed by the forest, and there's where it came out again...
"Oh," he said suddenly, snapping his fingers. "Why don't we just move the road?"
"What?" Lorne asked, but he was looking interested again, just like everyone else. Lorne pulled the map from Rodney so he could examine it as well. "You mean, just have it go around the forest?" Hs eyebrows shot up. "Can we do that in time?"
"How'll we keep from alerting the Wraith?" Ronon asked.
"Wait, we don't really need to build a road, right?" That was Peter, one of the other courtiers. He had no ability with magic but was a fine engineer despite that.
"Exactly!" Rodney pointed at him in triumph. He looked at the watchwoman--Elisha, if Rodney remembered that right. "You can shape stone?"
Elisha nodded. "That's why I was going to lead the tunnel building, sir."
"Great," Rodney went on quickly. "The area near the forest is full of rocks, which is why no one can travel west without the roadway. Can you smooth the rocks out to make a level traveling surface?"
Elisha thought about that and then nodded again, though it looked tentative. "I think so, sir."
"What if we use a fire elementalist instead?" Elizabeth asked Rodney. "Could they smooth the ground by heating it?"
It was Carson who answered. "Aye, probably, but I expect the heat would catch the forest on fire."
"Maybe we should do that--burn the forest down with the Wraith in it," Ronon said.
"No!" Parrish looked horrified.
Elizabeth raised her hand. "No one is seriously considering burning down the forest," she said, shooting a quelling glance at Ronon. "So far it seems like this might be an option, at least for evacuating citizens before the Wraith arrive. But we need to find a way to make the area adjacent to the forest passable without alerting the Wraith." She looked at Ronon and Lorne. "We'll need to scout the area, to see if this is even feasible."
That was the royal 'we', of course, but Lorne and Ronon nodded.
"Fi--the new Shield should go with you," Rodney said. "My guess is that he came from there, and even if he didn't, well, he's really good at running and sneaking around." And was currently doing nothing at all but brooding on the wall of his room, Rodney was certain.
Ronon nodded. "Good idea." He looked at Elizabeth. "We'll leave tonight."
"You'll leave in the morning," Elizabeth countered. "I don't want you going into Wraith territory in the dark."
"Besides, you can't just run into the Wraith's arms!" Rodney said. "At least find out what he knows about the area, first!"
"How?" Ronon asked bluntly, and Rodney knew he meant how could Five tell him anything when he didn't speak.
"Well, I can help with that," Rodney said primly.
"I have heard you have developed a rapport with our new Shield," Teyla said, smiling at him.
Rodney scowled. "He's not that hard to understand if you just pay attention."
"Easy for you to say," Carson grumbled. "All he did was glare at me!"
"Ladies, Gentlemen," Elizabeth said coolly, then waited until she had everyone's attention. "Vital though the question of escape is, Ronon is also right--all this will be futile if we can't defeat the Wraith." She looked around the circle of faces. "I'm opening up the table to discuss our options."
There was a dismaying silence.
"I'd like to put out a call for volunteer fighters," Lorne said.
Elizabeth nodded. "Anyone else?"
Rodney took a breath. "The chair."
Elizabeth's expression became steely. "No."
"We don't have a choice and you know it!" Rodney half shouted. "It's the only option we have that has even a hope of defeating them!"
"No," Elizabeth said again, her voice like ice. "No. Not after what happened. I will not risk the people of Atlantis again. And I'm certainly not going to risk you."
"This will be different!" Rodney insisted. "I know what to do this time!" He swallowed. "I--I'm willing--"
"Rodney!" Elizabeth's shout was like cannon-shot. Rodney shut his mouth immediately. "My answer is no," she said, quieter but no less fiercely.
Rodney hesitated then nodded reluctantly. "Yes, my Queen," he said.
Elizabeth inclined her head, acknowledging his acquiescence, and then turned her attention to everyone at the table. "I want to thank you all for coming. I know these are trying times, so it is that much more important that we work together." She smiled, her voice warming. "I have absolute faith in all of you that we will get through this. We will meet again here in two day's time. I look forward to seeing your plans then." She stood gracefully, but then paled and put her hand to her forehead.
"Elizabeth!" Ronon was closest, and he grabbed her when she swayed, gently helping her down to her chair again. Carson was there immediately, checking her pulse, the heat in her whitened cheek.
"Thank you," Elizabeth said, smiling weakly up at Ronon. "Carson, I'm fine," she said to him. "I just stood too fast and got a little light-headed."
"The meeting's over!" Rodney snapped at everyone else in the room. "Stop gawking at your sovereign and go do something useful. You've got two days to figure out how to build a road without the Wraith noticing. Go, get out!" He flapped his hands dismissively, staring coldly at all of them until they finally scuttled away, leaving only Elizabeth's inner court in the room.
"How is she?" he asked Teyla softly. Ronon and Lorne were carefully helping Elizabeth to her feet.
"She is not well," Teyla said just as softly. "I fear the transformation is advancing more quickly."
"Yeah," Rodney said in quiet horror.
Teyla looked as aghast as he felt. She put her hand on her belly, as if to protect the baby growing there. "I am not prepared to be Regent."
Rodney hesitated only minutely before he gently gripped her shoulder, offering what scant comfort he could. None of them were prepared for this.
"I think it best if you let Ronon and the major take you to your rooms," Carson said. He glanced at the two men and they nodded in agreement. "I'll meet you there in a few minutes. I just need to go to the infirmary and get some things."
"All right," Elizabeth said. She was still much too pale, and it was terrible to see how she depended on Ronon's strength. Rodney knew he would have carried her, except the queen couldn't lose that much dignity.
Rodney and Teyla watched silently as Ronon and Lorne supported Elizabeth out of the room, Carson following.
"I do not wish to be Regent," Teyla said again. She looked at Rodney. "Can you not stop this?"
Rodney blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. "I--I haven't stopped trying," he said, because it was better than saying that he couldn't.
There was a different guard outside Five's room, looking even more bored and surly than the last one. Rodney barely glanced at her before pounding on the door.
"Hey, he might be sleeping!" the guard said, glaring at him.
Rodney just glared back at her, then smiled victoriously when he pushed the door slightly open and Five put his hand around it and hauled it open the rest of the way.
"Here," Rodney said, shoving his surcoat into Five's hands. "Whoa, it's dark in here." Someone had definitely followed Rodney's instructions--to the letter, it looked like--since instead of a mere blanket, a thick wool tapestry had been nailed over the window. The room wasn't perfectly dark, but Rodney knew he'd be stumbling around until his eyes adjusted. It was also astonishingly hot. "Souls in hell, it's like a greenhouse in here! And do you like it this dark? Wait, never mind--I can't tell if you're nodding or not."
Rodney heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuff of amusement, and then the clicking of Five's nails as he crossed the floor. Five did something to the tapestry, and suddenly Rodney could see.
"Oh, great, thanks," Rodney said squinting in the now overly-bright room. Five was still standing by the window, examining the surcoat. "I, uh, thought you might be cold," Rodney explained, all at once feeling like an idiot for having even considered it, especially how the sweat was already pooling at the base of his spine. He glanced at the bed, and saw that the covers were still on it, but wrinkled like Five had been sleeping curled up on top of them. It was strangely relieving to see that Five didn't sleep on the wall like an insect, and that he actually slept at all. "Oh, uh, did I wake you?"
Five tilted his head like the answer was 'yes' but that he didn't mind.
"Good," Rodney said. Five was still holding the surcoat, doing something close to kneading it like a cat. Rodney had to tear his eyes away from the hypnotic motion of Five's hands. "I mean, It's, ah...you're obviously very comfortable in here, but it's still cold in the rest of the palace, and I've come to bring you to the library because Ronon wants to see you. He wants you to go on a scouting mission with him. You know Ronon, right?"
Five was looking a little overwhelmed by the barrage of information. He held the surcoat to his nose and sniffed it, the way he had Rodney's bandaged arm. He looked at Rodney questioningly.
"Yes, it's mine," Rodney groused. He crossed his arms, wondering why he was feeling so defensive. "And I assure you it's perfectly clean, despite what your mutant nose might tell you."
He got a silky black eyebrow arched at him for that, but then Five dragged the surcoat over his head and poked his hands through the armholes. Rodney watched Five fumbling at the belt with his clawed hands, until he finally couldn't take it anymore.
"Stop, before you stab yourself or something." Five made a face, but he dutifully held his hands aside so Rodney could briskly cinch the belt and secure it. Five seemed overly thin, but Rodney had no idea if that was normal for him or not.
When Rodney stepped back, Five posed with his arms spread, in what was an obviously sardonic invitation to admire.
"Yes, yes, you look fantastic," Rodney said, rolling his eyes. The sad truth was that Five did look remarkably good in the deep blue surcoat with the almost-white tunic and leggings underneath. It went very well with his skin tone, which should have been ridiculous and hilarious but wasn't either of those things. Really, Five shouldn't have looked good at all--not with the lizard skin, pointed teeth and claws and bright yellow eyes. But the lines of his face and the shape of his body were undeniably handsome. Rodney could only imagine how fine he must have looked before this...thing was done to him.
"What happened to you? I mean, who did this?" Rodney blurted, before he remembered that he'd already asked that question and how little Five had appreciated it. He gestured at Five's body. "Why would anyone do something so terrible?"
Five didn't hiss at him again, but his bared teeth fell just short of it. He turned to grab the tapestry, a less-than-subtle dismissal, but Rodney put his hand out to stop him.
"Wait, wait! Please," he said, and Five did. "I'm sorry," Rodney said. "It's just...It doesn't make sense. And I can't stand it when things don't make sense." He rubbed his forehead. "But, I'm sorry. I know...I realize you're entitled to your secrets." He lifted his head. "But even if you don't tell me, I think you should consider telling Carson. He's a druid who specializes in restorative magic. It means he's constantly doing rituals and painting symbols and talking to trees and other ridiculous wastes of time, but he might be able to help you. Turn you back into who you were before."
Five shook his head and looked down at his clawed toes.
"Wait--do you mean you're not going to tell him? Or he can't help you? He can't help you," Rodney repeated when Five nodded again. "How do you know?"
Five just looked at him levelly.
"Someone tried that on you?" Rodney guessed.
Five moved his head in a way that wasn't quite a nod, but Rodney couldn't figure out exactly what it meant. It was mostly a nod, though.
"Oh," Rodney said, disappointed. "I'm sorry Carson can't help you." Then he snapped his fingers and pointed. "An alchemist! An alchemist would help!"
Five went pale, so fast and completely that Rodney could see it. He turned around and put both hands on the exposed windowsill, head hanging and breathing like someone who was trying not to throw up.
Rodney rushed over to him. "Oh my Gods! What is it? Are you all right?" He put his hand on Five's back, but Five flinched so violently he almost fell. Rodney jerked away from him in alarm with his hands raised. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I won't touch you, see? I'm not touching you. I'm all the way over here."
Five turned his head, and his expression was so desolate Rodney's breath caught. "Did..." He had to clear his throat, which was suddenly too thick to speak, and then force himself not to whisper. "Did an alchemist do this to you?"
Five nodded.
Rodney ran his hand over his face. "I'm so sorry," he said, feeling helpless and inadequate. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I just..." He took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh. "I just want to help you. No one should have to live like that."
Five looked at him for a long moment then nodded almost imperceptibly. Rodney hoped that meant he was forgiven.
"I'm sorry," Rodney said again. He took a chance and moved closer. Five was looking out the opening he'd made when he folded back the tapestry, squinting at the snow-covered inner bailey down below. He didn't react.
Rodney moved closer still and then carefully put his hand on Five's back again. This time he could feel a minute shudder, but Five didn't flinch or shake him off, which Rodney guessed was good.
He pulled in another deep breath. "Maybe I can help you."
Five just shook his head.
"Let me try, at least!" Rodney insisted. "I'm a mage--we're much more powerful than...than other wizards who can do transformative magic. But it'll have to be later," he said with real regret; he'd already promised himself that he'd find some way to make Five human again, just like he would Radek and Elizabeth. He'd do whatever was necessary. "We, well, you probably noticed that there's a hoard of soul-sucking Wraith practically on our doorstep--" He thought of something for the first time and his eyes went wide. "Oh, hey! Is that why you're here? Did you come to help? Because I volunteered you for that scouting mission, and Ronon's waiting to discuss it with you."
Five nodded. He shrugged again.
"Yes, it's a big deal!" Rodney said. He smiled smugly. "It's the kind of thing a Shield of Pegasus would do."
Five growled, then made a fist and swung it behind him into the wall. The sharp noise of flesh on stone more than compensated for the shout of fury he couldn't make. He just stared at Rodney for a long, cold moment, such anger in his eyes that Rodney took a step back, unable to help himself. He started making a ward sign, but stopped when Five's eyes fastened on it like prey.
Five's face slid back to that awful blankness, and then all at once he jerked the tapestry farther back, bringing more light into the room. Then he went over to the far corner where the now-empty wooden table was and bent swiftly to reach underneath it. He came up with one of two wicker cages, this one holding a chicken. She'd probably been one of the kitchen's pampered egg-layers who'd stopped producing, because the bird was still asleep despite the change in light and the noise.
There was something in the other cage too, but all that Rodney could make out in the shadows was that it wasn't moving. Five untied the knot securing the cage door, then reached in and pulled the chicken out. Rodney noted how careful he was being--the cooks normally swung the poor things around by their legs--but Rodney didn't dare remark on it.
"Don't do that," Rodney said, thinking about the merchant's story, what Five had reportedly done to the livestock. "Don't--don't kill it. I don't...you don't need to prove anything."
But by the thin, vicious smile on Five's face, it was obvious that he thought he did.
His hands didn't move, but Five's eyes narrowed and then all of a sudden the chicken's eyes flew open. She squawked in fright, then her eyes bugged and she started panting the way Rodney had seen when the chickens had been so panicked they went into shock. And then the chicken just...died.
Rodney watched, gaping, as the chicken's head dropped, its body going limp and heavy even though all Five was doing was holding it. It was over in moments, nothing left of the animal but an empty shell.
Five tossed the body back into the cage, not bothering to be gentle anymore. And then he stood there glaring with his hands in fists, chest heaving like he'd been running.
Rodney stood there with his heart pounding and glared back, trying to quell the part of him that really, really wanted to run. "What's that supposed to prove?" He managed finally. "If you wanted to--to drain our souls like chickens, you'd've done it already," he said, cursing himself that his voice wasn't entirely steady. "I hate to tell you this, but everyone kills animals to eat them." He lifted his chin, feeling more confident with Five still standing there, just listening. "The fact that you do it...differently doesn't mean anything."
Five's eyes narrowed to slits. He lifted his hand with fingers spread wide, the universal symbol for Wraith. And maybe it was because he'd just...eaten...but now Rodney could make out the small, darker slit in the center of his palm.
Rodney swallowed. "You're not a Wraith," he said, remembering what Teyla had told him, trying to pretend he wasn't attempting to convince himself. "I don't--I'll admit it. I don't know what you are, but I know you're not a Wraith. You're...Something bad happened to you, and now you do Wraith, um, Wraith-like things. But that doesn't make you one."
He got more bared teeth for that.
Rodney closed his eyes and drew in yet another deep breath. He'd barely met this creature, this man, and yet he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so frustrated or discouraged. It was like Five was determined for everyone to think he was a monster, when everything he did only showed the opposite. He hadn't even hurt a stupid chicken before he'd taken its soul.
"Fine," Rodney said at last, exasperated. "Here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tin snips he'd taken from the tool box in his rooms and slapped them down on the table. "Maybe vicious predators like yourself prefer to walk around clicking, but I think these will do the trick if you change your mind. And you're welcome for the surcoat, by the way," he added caustically.
Five hugged himself in an incongruously childlike gesture that was clearly meant to show cozyness.
"Great," Rodney said, wondering if Five was being sarcastic. He started walking toward the door, looking over his shoulder at Five. "Come on."
Five blinked.
"No," Rodney snapped, "I meant the other blue-skinned freak with the chicken fetish and the guilt complex. Didn't you hear anything I said about going on a scouting mission with Ronon? Or are those bizarre ears of yours purely decorative?"
Five snarled at him, but Rodney's goading did the trick. He stalked to the door, snatching up the tin snips on the way and then waited with exaggerated patience for Rodney to open the door for him.
"We've really got to do something about those claws," Rodney said as he pushed the door open.
Five smiled and handed the tin snips back to him.
It turned out that Rodney wasn't really needed to translate from Five to Ronon at all.
Rodney walked down the long, dark corridor of Atlantis, hugging himself a little in the cold and wishing he'd worn something warmer. Atlantis valiantly tried to raise the temperature for him, but though Rodney could feel the warming air, he was moving too quickly to really benefit from it.
He'd left Five and Ronon crouched in front of the fireplace in the war room. The fire had burned low after the meeting and its waning light made shadows of the two men as they peered over the maps Ronon had put on the floor. It had been Ronon's idea to work near the fire; he'd remembered that Five would be cold without Rodney having to tell him.
The two Shields had already met, of course. Rodney would have guessed as much even if he hadn't known that Ronon had given Five his name. But it still...stung, somehow, to see how familiar they were with each other, clasping each-other's arms like long-lost comrades. Or to hear Ronon casually mentioning how he'd visited Five while Rodney was still asleep in the infirmary, how Ronon had already given Five a tour of the castle, how Ronon and Teyla had brought Five to Rodney's bedside, so Five could see for himself that his benefactor still lived. It still stung that Five seemed to have no problem with being called by a number, when Rodney had gone out of his way to never use it as his name.
It shouldn't have meant anything. Rodney knew he should have just been pleased that Five's gestures seemed to be all that was required for him and Ronon to work together. Rodney knew he should never have decided he and the blue-skinned man really had some kind of special understanding.
None of that changed how lonely Rodney felt, walking the long, dark palace corridors in the early evening. He'd eaten dinner quickly in the kitchen, but not even the friendly, bustling kitchen staff had penetrated his solitude. Rodney had even considered going to Teyla's room, just to talk for awhile, but he knew she needed her rest. And Carson would be with Elizabeth until the morning, trying to slow the change taking over her body.
He'd expected to stay with Five and Ronon for most of the night, and now that he wasn't necessary, he didn't really know what to do with himself. There was more research, of course, but Rodney couldn't face the smaller wizard's library just yet. Right now another futile night without finding a cure for Radek and Elizabeth felt like more than Rodney could stand. He couldn't bear the idea of going back to his own rooms either, not yet. Even if they wouldn't be cold, they'd be too large and too empty, with no company but his own failures and no one to talk to but his conscience.
Rodney shook his head and circled the pads of his fingers over his eyes. "None of it matters anyway," he said.
He let his feet carry him where they would, though he wasn't much surprised when his wandering brought him to the chair room. He always ended up here when he started thinking about his mistakes.
The chair room was underground. It had been carved centuries before out of the bedrock that anchored the castle and spread beneath the entire city. The rounded tunnels that curved like insect work were smooth and uniform, obviously the result of elemental magic. The chair room was down here because that was where it was the most protected.
Atlantis Castle wasn't magic, but even Rodney would agree that the chair was. It was far more important than a mere throne, though it shone with regal pomp in the low light of the room. The chair had been built by mages, for mages to use, no one else. No other magic was powerful enough, because no other wizards paid for what was taken.
The only illumination came from softly-glowing crystals in the walls, and the chair looked silver in the light, though its true metal wasn't known. It had been crafted in an eldritch mixture of the straight, simple lines that formed its frame and the curving ones that twisted over the back and headrest like tree roots. The headrest was crafted of a material that was neither glass nor stone, but a substance the original builders of this place had created, the secret of its origin lost to time. It was dull blue, but Rodney knew it would flare with light if he touched it: dangerous and hypnotic as the hottest part of a flame.
Right now the chair was upright, silent, waiting to be touched. When someone sat, the chair would tilt back and shine like a star, and the universe would open in a torrent of magic for anyone with the will and strength and knowledge to use. For a price.
Rodney stood next to the chair but he didn't try to touch it. The blood-gutters in the chair arms had turned rust-red over the centuries, every bloodstain a story of terror and desperation. In all the centuries of use, the gutters had never been cleaned.
The most recent stains were his.
Rodney shuddered, remembering what it had felt like to be in the chair; trapped by the very magic he was wielding, so euphoric it had been like flying. He'd been aware of everything around him: In the castle and city, the entirety of Pegasus itself, and yet knew he was dying, blood pouring out of him like a tide with every wild crash of his heart.
There was a sound behind him, a click against the stone, and Rodney whirled with a yelp, hands already moving in a ward sign, automatically reaching for his knife even as he remembered he'd left it in his room.
But it was only Five, looking oddly sheepish in the dim light. He was purposely wiggling his toes on the stone so the tapping would get Rodney's attention.
"Souls in hell!" Rodney exclaimed, slapping his hand over his chest. "Don't do that! What is it with you?"
Five shrugged. He smiled in wan apology.
"Right. Don't even pretend like you didn't enjoy that," Rodney said sourly, more happy than he wanted to admit to himself that Five had found him. "How did you know where I was, anyway?"
Five tapped the side of his nose.
"You could smell me?" Rodney asked. Five nodded. "All the way down to the tunnels?" Five nodded again. "I'm insulted and flattered by that," Rodney said. "Hey!" he added, thinking of it. "Why aren't you with Ronon?"
Five stretched elaborately then mimed lifting something to his mouth.
"You're taking a break for dinner?" Rodney asked, and was pleased when Five nodded again. "That's too bad--I've already eaten." Rodney realized a moment later that he'd just assumed Five would want his company, then had to look away so Five wouldn't see him blushing.
Five clicked his toenails again, making Rodney turn around. He shook his head and then held his hands near his chest as if he was lifting something between them.
"You mean you're not hungry because of the chicken?" Rodney asked, because he thought he'd recognized the way Five had been holding the bird when he'd drained it. "How long can you go without...?" Rodney trailed off, realizing that might be an overly personal question.
Five shrugged. He held up two fingers.
"Two days, but that's on average, right? I guess it depends on the size of the animal, eh?"
Five nodded, but he looked uncomfortable talking about it, so Rodney decided to change the subject. "How's it going up there anyway? Do you have a travel route yet?"
Five waggled his hand.
"At least it's getting there," Rodney said.
Five nodded but he wasn't really paying attention to the conversation anymore. He walked closer to the chair, as mesmerized by it as Rodney had been. He looked at Rodney questioningly.
"We just call it 'the Chair'," Rodney told him. "We don't know if it's ever had another name, there're no records of any, at least. Yeah, that's blood," he verified when Five leaned closer to the armrest and sniffed.
Five cocked his head, then touched Rodney's left arm, barely grazing it with the tips of his claws.
"Yes," Rodney said, nodding. "The blood is for the Recompense. The chair was built for mages. It allows them to access and control an otherwise overwhelming amount of magic."
Five nodded thoughtfully. He touched Rodney's arm again, just as gently, then pointed at the chair, the same questioning expression on his face.
"Yes," Rodney said again. "I've sat in it." He knew the implication would be clear.
Five's yellow eyes widened. He pointed at the chair again, and then at Rodney. Then he lifted his hand in the Wraith sign.
"Wait," Rodney said, squinting in concentration. "That's a little confusing. Do you mean, did I use the chair to try and destroy the Wraith, because yes, I did. Or are you asking if the chair should have killed me? Because the answer to that is yes, too."
Five nodded slowly, though Rodney didn't know to what. He looked back at the chair. He reached out, obviously going to touch it.
"No!" Rodney slapped his hand so hard around Five's wrist that Five startled, his head snapping around to stare at Rodney again. He tried to pull his hand away, but Rodney wouldn't let him, and even though Rodney knew Five was much stronger than he was, Five relaxed and looked at Rodney levelly, as if waiting.
"Don't touch it," Rodney said, much more calmly. "You mustn't touch it. Touch activates it. And it won't stop until you've paid for it, mage or not."
Five's eyebrows went up. He made the Wraith sign again.
"Yes," Rodney said, nodding. "Yes, death is the Recompense. Always. There's no other way for anyone to wield that much magic."
Five looked puzzled again. He gently tugged at his wrist, and Rodney realized he was still holding onto him and let go. Five took Rodney's hand instead, very carefully, and turned it until the palm was facing up. Then he touched his fingers to Rodney's pulse and looked pointedly at him.
"You're right," Rodney said quietly. "I shouldn't have survived."
Five looked like he wanted to ask something about that, but whatever Rodney was showing on his face seemed to make him change his mind. He let Rodney go and stepped back. The intensity of his gaze was unsettling.
"What? What is it?" Rodney said, and then had to clear the unwelcome huskiness out of his throat.
Five opened his mouth, but closed it again, looking frustrated. He hesitated, then pointed at the chair, then pointed at Rodney, then made the Wraith sign with another question in his expression.
"I told you," Rodney said, confused. "The chair should have killed me."
Five made a tiny growl that probably meant frustration. He pointed at the chair again then pointed at Rodney, but this time spread as hands, his whole body framing an obvious question.
Rodney's eyes narrowed as he concentrated on what Five was trying to communicate. "Do you mean...why I was in the chair?"
Five nodded quickly, clapping his hands in what Rodney chose to decide wasn't actually sarcasm.
Rodney quirked a smile at Five, but couldn't keep it. "I don't like to talk about it," he said.
Five nodded again. He carefully touched his fingers to Rodney's lips.
Rodney smirked bitterly. "Right. We all have our secrets." He looked down, running his fingers through his hair. "It's not much of a secret, really," he said. He forced himself to meet Five's eyes. "Everyone in the inner court already knows what happened."
Five shrugged.
Rodney smiled wanly at him. "That's kind. But there's really no point in not telling you." He turned back to the chair, unable to look at Five while he spoke. "There was..." He took a breath, starting again. "I don't know where you're from, but most of the nations of Pegasus have some version of a story about a great magus, a mage of incredible power. He had studied so much, and lived so long, that some people thought he rivaled the Ancients themselves." Rodney snorted. "It's just a story, but what is the same in every tale of this magus is that he learned what only the Gods should know. How to create life."
Rodney stopped to clear his throat. He glanced at Five, and saw that he was standing silently, listening with his arms folded across his chest. "Are you cold?"
Five shook his head. He made a nodding gesture with his chin that Rodney knew was a request to continue.
"Right," he said, nervous now. He looked at the chair because it made it easier to talk. "Okay...so the story everyone knows about him is how he molded a golem, a living being out of clay. This golem was his slave. It did everything he wanted without complaining or getting tired, and nothing could destroy it except the magus himself." Rodney smiled, sharp and cold. "And that, as you've probably already guessed, is why I decided to make an army of golems, to use to destroy the Wraith."
Rodney stopped again, swallowing. Five put his hand on Rodney's shoulder, pushing just enough to make him turn around. He looked puzzled, which Rodney supposed was better than condemning. Five pointed at the chair, then touched Rodney's bandaged arm.
Rodney nodded. "I used the chair to do it. Only I didn't try to make my golem army out of clay or mud. I used metal." He rubbed the corner of one eye then dropped his gaze again. "My first mistake was thinking I could do it, that I knew enough to manipulate that kind of magic. My second mistake was to not lock the door."
He felt the barest touch of Five's hand on his arm, as if Five were trying to comfort him but didn't know how.
"Thanks," Rodney said. He sighed. "There...You've met my friends. I hadn't told them what I was doing, because I knew I wouldn't survive it." Rodney smirked humorlessly. "I thought I'd been so careful, too. Carson had been called to an emergency in the city, and Teyla had volunteered to go with him. Ronon and Major Lorne were out on the wall, and the queen was in her chambers with...well, 'consort' is kind of crude, but there was nothing official between them. She shouldn't have taken a consort," Rodney said quietly. "She knew better than to do that." He looked at Five. "Did you know that Queen Elizabeth is a mage too?"
Five shook his head.
Rodney nodded as he spoke. "She is. Was," he amended quietly. "I don't really know what happened," Rodney continued. "Neither the queen nor Radek remember either. Radek was her consort, by the way. Have you met him?"
Five shrugged.
"You'd remember if you had," Rodney said. "He's made of metal."
He saw how Five's eyes widened at that. He pointed at the chair.
Rodney nodded. "That's right. So, I don't know what happened, but I'm almost certain that Elizabeth could...sense the chair being used, and it woke her. I don't know if she was drawn here, or if she was trying to stop me, but for whatever reason she came, and Radek followed her. She'd called some of the watch, too, but she made them wait at the door." Rodney smirked bitterly. "I guess she thought it would be too dangerous."
He turned back to the chair because he didn't want to face the sympathy in Five's expression; Rodney didn't deserve it. "Radek pulled me out of the chair. But I hadn't finished the spell. Or paid the Recompense for it. So they paid it, instead of me." He swallowed, wiping at his burning eyes with the side of a hand. "Sometimes I think the chair did it on purpose, to punish me for not giving it what it wanted. I get to live, but only to watch people I...people I really care about slowly die in one of the most awful ways I can imagine." He made a small, hopeless noise that was nothing like laughter. "They're turning into golems. Golems I didn't create, so I won't be able to control them. Or make them human again." He cleared his eyes again. "So," he said, shrugging. "Now you know what I did."
Five nodded. He mouthed 'thank you', again.
"Oh," Rodney said, surprised. "You're welcome." He shrugged again. "Like I said--you might as well know."
Five kept nodding, looking thoughtful. Then he tapped his chest, then Rodney's. He looked hopefully at Rodney.
Rodney blinked at him in bafflement. "I'm sorry," he said. "I have no idea what you mean."
Five's face fell, then screwed up again as he obviously tried to figure something out. Finally he just snorted in irritation, grabbed Rodney's shoulders and hauled him into his arms.
Rodney froze in shock, arms out to his sides. Five had his arms wrapped around him with his very pointy chin digging into Rodney's shoulder. He seemed determined to hang on for as long as it took Rodney to figure it out.
Rodney cleared his throat again. "Um, you, ah...you're glad the chair didn't kill me?"
Five made a sound that could only have been a contented hum. He held Rodney a little more tightly, then turned his head and pressed his face into the junction between Rodney's shoulder and his neck.
"Oh," Rodney said softly. "Well, thank you." He slowly circled Five in his arms as well, unsure if that was the right thing to do. Five just sighed and moved his face a little bit in what might have been nuzzling. Rodney could feel the soft wisps of Five's breath on his neck.
"Um, are you...sniffing me?" Rodney said. He could feel Five's chuff of laughter in response. Rodney bit back the automatic urge to ask if he smelled okay.
Rodney stood there, waiting for Five to pull back and let go, but Five didn't. He seemed perfectly content to stay exactly where he was, hanging onto Rodney and breathing, with the cold tip of his nose poking into Rodney's neck.
"Um, okay," Rodney said, hoping he didn't sound as anxious as he actually felt. He hesitated, and then started rubbing his palm up and down Five's back. In response Five made a small noise a lot like a purr, and if anything seemed to hold Rodney tighter.
"It's been a long time since anyone really touched you, isn't it?" Rodney asked softly, thinking of how Five had been found, trying to imagine what it would be like to live when you looked like a monster, when anyone who even approached probably just wanted you dead.
Five nodded against his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Rodney said. "You--you're safe here. You know that, right? No one's going to try to hurt you."
It was a ridiculous thing to say, but Five just nodded and made the humming sound again.
Rodney took a gamble and slid one hand up the back of Five's neck, into his hair that seemed so much like thick wolf fur. It was soft, now that it was clean, smelling of herbal soap and something earthier, almost like leather, which Rodney thought might be Five's skin. It was strange but not unpleasant.
The response to that was a shudder that travelled all the way down Five's body, and a tiny, broken noise that spoke volumes for having no language in it. And then Five let go.
Rodney released him immediately, feeling guilty and embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I just--I thought you wanted...What? What is it?"
Five was looking at him with such intensity it set Rodney's heart to pounding. Five's eyes gleamed like gold in the light, unearthly and beautiful, making Rodney want to move further back and come closer at the same time. And when Five stepped towards him again, Rodney didn't move.
Five cupped Rodney's face in one of his blue-skinned hands. His palm was smooth as snakeskin and cooler than Rodney's cheek, and Rodney shivered. Then Five leaned in and kissed him.
His lips were smooth and cool like his hands had been, tasting like salt and something sharp Rodney couldn't name. He felt the light rasp of Five's tongue across his lips, rough as a cat's, and Rodney gasped at the need that arrowed through him at the touch. And then the bolt of terror that followed it had Rodney squirming his hands between them, shoving Five away.
Five stumbled backwards, eyes wide with shock and confusion. Then he saw the fear on Rodney's face, and his expression went flat and cold as stone.
"No! No, don't! No! It's not like that, please!" Rodney reached for him, but Five stepped further away, face shut like a door. Rodney watched him close down, curling into himself like a wounded animal without even moving. "It's not you," Rodney went on desperately. "It has nothing to do with you!" He grabbed for Five's wrist when he took another step back, but Five bared his teeth and twisted his hand away. "You don't understand! I--I can't! I'm a mage. I can't be with you. I can't be with anyone. I can't. It's forbidden." He swallowed, shaking his head. "I want to...you don't even know...but, but I can't. I can't," Rodney said again, almost whispering. "I'm sorry."
Five looked at him for a long moment, then turned, leaped onto the wall, and crawled away. He disappeared into the dark of the corridor as silently as he'd come in. Rodney tried to call after him, but the words stuck in his throat. What he'd told Five was the truth. It didn't matter what either of them wanted.
So Rodney just stood there and watched him go, then put his face in his hands.
He woke with a start, bolting upright out of a nightmare. His back hit something painfully unyielding and he cried out as much in surprise as pain.
"Ancestors! Rodney, I'm so sorry--are you all right?" It was Teyla. She'd grabbed his elbow so he wouldn't pitch himself out of the chair, and her beautiful dark eyes were wide with chagrin and concern. "I didn't know you were asleep."
"S'okay," Rodney said muzzily. He ground the heel of his palm into his eye socket and then gave his head a sharp shake to dislodge the last of the sleep still clinging to him. The dream was already fading, but not the fear that had come with it. "What--what is it? Is everything all right?" His eyes shot wide and he was instantly, terribly alert. "Is it the Wraith?"
"No," Teyla said quickly, smiling as she reassured him. "We are fortunate that nothing has changed in that regard. But Ronon and Five will leave soon. I thought you would want to say goodbye to them."
Rodney looked around, blinking and wiping his mouth, then remembered immediately that he was in the wizard's library, that he'd come here after the fiasco with Five in the chair room, burying himself in more research as much to escape his misery as to see if he could find anything to reverse Radek and Elizabeth's transformations. Or Five's. "I guess I fell asleep," he said dully. He had a vague memory of putting his head in his crossed arms to rest for a moment, and now it was apparently morning. The room had gone chill overnight, the fire in the large iron stove having long-since burned to ashes. The anemic light of another winter's dawn was slanting in through the window.
Teyla gently tugged the nearest unrolled scroll over to her, tucking a lock of her brown hair behind her ear as she read. "This is alchemy," she said, then looked at Rodney. "Can you do such magic?"
"I'm a mage," Rodney said. "I can do anything." He got up and stretched, arching his back and grimacing as his cold, stiff muscles were forced to move.
"Can you?" Teyla asked again as she carefully rolled up the scroll and put it neatly on the desk.
Rodney sighed. "Yes. Honestly, I can. But that doesn't mean it will necessarily work. Alchemy is transformative magic, that's all it does--metamorphose one thing into another. The best Alchemists can change their own forms, or other people's." He smiled crookedly, walking beside Teyla as they went out the door. He had to go slowly to stay even with her waddle. "So you'd think it'd be ideal, but alchemy deals either with inorganic materials--like turning lead to gold--or organic--like making themselves into werewolves and such." It made him think of Five, and his reaction when Rodney had suggested alchemy would help him. He forcibly stopped thinking about Five before it made him feel worse than he already did. "Radek and Elizabeth are more like a mixture of both." He shook his head in weariness and frustration as he held the door open for her. "I think I might have to combine alchemy spells to change Radek and the queen back, and I'm not sure how that would work. I might--I might kill them."
"I'm sure you will think of a way, Rodney," Teyla said. Rodney might have snarled something about platitudes if it'd been anyone else, but he knew Teyla truly believed it. She had more faith in people than they had in themselves most of the time. Her quiet certainty that Rodney could do exactly what he said he could was humbling.
"I wanted to be an alchemist, you know," Rodney said, hoping a change of subject would lift his melancholy. "But I didn't have the temperament for it. It's all about symbols and rituals and eye of newt and tongue of dog and that kind of thing. But magery only requires knowing the right words and the occasional hand sign."
"And the willingness to bleed for your power," Teyla murmured. She had to tilt her head to look up at him. "There is another way, Rodney. I wish you would believe me."
"Yeah, well, I wish there were another way, too, but there isn't." He ran his palm over his face. "I knew what I was getting into when I chose that path. I could have been an elementalist or a druid, or a witch like Radek--"
"Or a spell bard," Teyla said, eyes twinkling.
Rodney smirked, but he shook his head. "I don't think anyone would want to listen to me singing long enough to carry a spell." He smiled warmly at her. "You're not just the best one I know because you're powerful," he said.
Teyla smiled back at him, then took his hand and gave it a squeeze. She tried to keep her hand in his, but he gently pulled away.
"Don't," he said quietly.
Teyla looked at him, then her eyes steeled and she grabbed his hand. Rodney tried to pull away again but she wouldn't let him. "It is too late, Rodney," she said, her voice firm for all the kindness in it. "I know you are my friend, whether you wish to be or not. I've known it for a long time."
Rodney swallowed, looking down at their joined hands. "You don't understand," he said.
"I am certain that I do," Teyla responded crisply. She gave his arm a little tug when Rodney slowed down. "If we tarry too long we'll miss them."
Rodney sighed. "I really don't think Five will care if I miss him," he said, then winced inwardly at having just essentially laid his feelings bare to one of the most intuitive people he'd ever met.
Teyla looked up at his face. "Oh, Rodney," she said sadly. She turned his hand palm-up in hers and held it to her chest like she was hugging it. "Magic doesn't work like that. Opening your heart to someone will make you more powerful, not less."
"You really don't understand. It's not about power," Rodney said tightly. He yanked his hand away and Teyla let it go this time. "I will never not be powerful. It's about the Recompense."
"There is no need for Recompense," Teyla said.
Rodney sighed again in frustration. "Carson keeps telling me that, too. What is it with you people? You think that your magic requires nothing but pretty songs or the right chant, but that's not true! Magic requires payment!"
"Mine never has, nor has the magic of any wizard I know--except for you and the queen," Teyla said calmly. They entered the stairway and Rodney took the lead, picking his way carefully down the curving stone steps. "Carson's magic does not demand payment either," Teyla went on. "If you were willing to think of magic differently, you would understand that there is nothing to pay for, because you cannot deplete it."
"You saw what happened when I didn't pay enough," Rodney grit out.
"I saw the result of your belief that the universe requires violence and pain in return for something that is already everywhere and in everything, and cannot be lost or gained." He felt the gentle brush of her fingers on the back of his hand as they exited out into the corridor at the base of the library tower. "If you could only accept this, you would see that allowing yourself to love will make you far more powerful than meaningless blood sacrifice."
"And you'll catch more flies with honey than vinegar," Rodney snapped. "Ancient and useful wisdom if you're dealing with flies, I'm sure. But magic is a little more complicated than that. And anyway, your blathering isn't even relevant. I'm not in love with Five--I barely know the man."
"I never said I thought you were in love with him," Teyla said. She patted Rodney's arm, and her smile was both knowing and sad when he looked at her. "What I am trying to tell you is that there is no reason for you not to be friends with him, as you are with me and Ronon."
Rodney gritted his teeth. "I'm friends with Radek and Elizabeth as well, and look what that did to them."
"That wasn't your fault, Rodney," Teyla said.
"So everyone keeps telling me," Rodney muttered. He saw that they'd reached the side corridor that led to his workshop, and he put his hand on Teyla's shoulder to make her stop. "I need to get something," he said. "Really," he added when she arched an eyebrow in obvious skepticism. "Make sure they don't leave before I get there, okay?"
"Very well," Teyla said. "But don't take too long."
"I won't, I promise," Rodney said. He went down the corridor, walking briskly now that he didn't have to measure his pace to a small pregnant woman. He didn't run, though, because that would mean he really cared if the men left without him. And he couldn't afford to, for their sakes.
He did run on the way back, though, because it had taken him far longer to find what he'd been looking for than he'd thought it would. Normally his workshop was organized with exhaustive precision, but he'd been distracted of late.
"Wait, wait!" He hollered, miserable at having to run in the cold air again. Ronon had already mounted his giant Percheron and was watching Rodney with amusement as Rodney slipped and skidded his way towards them in the fresh snow. Five didn't have a horse. He was standing bare-footed in the snow wearing Rodney's borrowed surcoat and someone else's black mantle with the hood up, arms crossed with his hands under his armpits. He was squinting in the light and shivering like an abandoned kitten.
"I'm glad you could make it," Teyla said, her smile only slightly admonishing.
"Here," Rodney wheezed at Ronon. He reached up to pass a piece of a broken pottery drinking bowl to him. The smooth side had the symbol for protection on it, the rough a thick smear of still-drying blood to make it work. "I'm sorry it's not fancier, but I didn't have time." Rodney gestured at Ronon's chest. "Put it in a pocket close to your heart, if you can. That way it'll protect the largest part of your body possible."
Ronon examined the amulet, then grunted and slipped it into a leather pouch around his neck. Rodney wondered if Teyla had sung her magic into an amulet as well. "Thanks," Ronon said seriously. He gave Rodney a single nod.
"You're welcome," Rodney said, equally serious. He turned to Five, who was watching him expressionlessly. "I, um, made one for you as well," Rodney said. "And one that guards against the cold, since I thought you might need it. I mean, I thought it might be nice for you not to be freezing." He held out two more pieces of the bowl. One looked almost exactly like Ronon's, the other had the symbol for cold as well as protection.
For a moment Rodney thought Five would actually refuse it out of spite, but all he did was hold out his hand. Rodney put the amulets into his palm without touching him. Five gave him a nod in thanks, but didn't smile. He had the same kind of pouch as Ronon, which made Rodney certain Teyla had made them. Five managed to fish it out of his tunic, but he held it up to Teyla to open, not Rodney. Rodney wasn't sure if that was a subtle rejection or not, but he supposed Five was entitled to it either way. He just wished it didn't hurt that Five so obviously wanted nothing to do with him. What did he expect, after all? For Five to fling himself into Rodney's arms after Rodney had literally shoved him away?
Teyla smiled fondly and opened Five's pouch with a deft tug of her fingers. Five handed her his amulets and she slipped them in and closed the pouch again. It was bulging when Five slid it beneath his clothing, but it still wasn't noticeable under everything he was wearing.
Almost instantly, he stopped shivering. He blinked in surprise, and then gave Rodney a small, tentative smile.
"You're welcome," Rodney said, grateful that it had worked. He'd learned how to make amulets as a child, but normally he took more time with them. He allowed himself to smile back. "I brought you these as well," he said, and handed Five a pair of goggles with large, round lenses of smoked glass. "I made them myself," he said, "for, um, smelting metal and whatnot." He jerked his chin at the leather strap to hold them on. "I know they look bulky, but they're really quite comfortable. And I know bright light hurts your eyes."
Five blinked again, taking the goggles and examining them curiously. He lifted them to his face and held them so he could look out through the lenses. He made a pleased-sounding hum then turned so his back was to Rodney, obviously asking Rodney to fasten them.
"Oh, of course, just a moment," Rodney said, trying to quell how his heart was fluttering because he seemed to be in Five's good graces again. Maybe this would be okay.
The goggles had a very simple slide latch to keep them on, but Five's claws prevented almost all fine motor movement. Rodney made a face at himself that he hadn't actually done anything about that yet, despite having brought the tin snips for exactly that reason. He'd been sure Five had given him the snips back as a joke, but it suddenly occurred to Rodney that the man had probably been asking for help. "I'll cut your claws when you get back, I promise," he said quietly to the back of Five's head. "Raise your hand if that's tight enough." He pulled the strap a little tighter and Five raised his hand. Rodney secured the latch and gave the goggles a small tug to make sure they wouldn't slip. "How's that? Good?"
Five turned around and he was grinning, cat-eyes open and almost colorless behind the dark glass. Rodney couldn't help grinning back at him, happy that a simple pair of goggles was making such an obvious difference.
"You shouldn't have to unlatch the goggles to take them off," he said. He made a pushing up gesture next to his face. "Just slide them up over your head."
Five nodded. He put his hand on Rodney's shoulder.
Rodney ducked back right away and Five dropped his hand to his side. Rodney saw the flash of disappointment before Five's expression cleared again, but his smile was much smaller and sad.
"You're welcome," Rodney said quietly.
"You should go," Teyla said to Five and Ronon. She stood on tiptoes next to Ronon's horse, and he leaned down in the saddle and gave her a quick, firm kiss on the lips. Then Teyla turned to Five and pulled his forehead down to hers. "Be safe," she said.
Rodney saw how Five's eyes closed at the touch, and his heart clenched in a mixture of guilt and longing. He cleared his throat.
"Yeah, be safe, both of you," he said to them.
"No problem," Ronon said. He reached down with his hand and Rodney reached up so they could clasp arms.
When Rodney let go it was obvious Five was waiting for some kind of farewell, but Rodney had no idea what to do. He settled on holding out his hand.
Five looked at it, then looked at Rodney's face, then bounded forward and yanked Rodney into another hug. Rodney heard Ronon chuckle at his surprised yelp, but Five let go almost too soon for Rodney to react. Then he looked at Ronon, tilted his head in the direction of the forest in the far distance, and then took off at a dead run.
Rodney watched him go, gaping. "Souls in the underworld," he murmured. Five was all but flying over the snow, a diminishing blur of motion. "He's faster than a horse!"
"Not this one," Ronon said with a wide grin. He wheeled his mount. "Yah!" The horse leapt into a gallop and sped off in pursuit.
"It should be an enjoyable race," Teyla said. She was shielding her eyes with one hand, watching Ronon's horse fading from sight the way Five already had.
"Yeah, well, hopefully they won't exhaust themselves," Rodney snorted. He shook his head. "Knights and their stupid competitive streaks." Be safe, he thought for both of them. He turned to Teyla, deliberately pushing the worry out of his mind. "I don't know about you, but I'm freezing and starving. Let's get out of the snow and have breakfast."
Teyla smiled at him. "I would be pleased to join you."
They walked together back inside the palace, and Rodney just sighed and accepted it when Teyla took his hand.
Part Three: The Golem
"You should get some proper rest," Teyla said, once their simple breakfast was finished. They were in the kitchen, squished together at the corner of one of the work tables where the cook had graciously allowed them, though he kept giving them pathetic looks as if their mere presence was throwing off his entire routine. Teyla always smiled sweetly in return, but Rodney just rolled his eyes. He knew very well that pretty much everyone in the palace was taking their meals in the kitchen; pomp and circumstance seemed both wasteful and ridiculous when screaming death was all but on the doorstep. And with the call for volunteers in the city meaning new recruits were arriving every day, the kitchen staff literally had an army to feed. Rodney figured they would actually appreciate people being willing to slap cold mutton on some bread and be done with it.
Rodney grunted as he took a long swallow of tea. It wasn't quite as good as Kanaan's restorative, but that was kept in the infirmary and only doled out under the watchful eye of Carson. "I realize I probably smell like a goat, but I need to get back to the war room. There's another tactical meeting tomorrow, and I'm meant to have come up with some brilliant plan to save us all by then."
Teyla smiled at him and put her hand on his. "No one is expecting you to have all the answers, Rodney. You aren't the queen's only advisor."
"No, but I'm the best one she's got," Rodney said. He smiled ruefully when Teyla quirked an eyebrow at him, but just because he knew it was arrogant didn't make it any less true. "I was wondering if we could get some spell bards to sing up some kind of confusion spell--the Wraith would hear the noise but they'd lose track of where it was coming from."
Teyla nodded thoughtfully. "There are certainly enough such wizards in the city, but I do not see how we could confuse the Wraith but not our own builders."
Rodney grimaced, then brightened and snapped his fingers. "Amulets of protection!"
Teyla nodded again. "True, but how many? And who would make them? You don't have enough blood in your body for as many as would be required."
"You could help," Rodney said, though he glanced at her belly and wished he hadn't suggested it. "And Radek--" He winced.
Teyla squeezed his hand. "I'm sure Radek would be pleased to know how highly you think of his abilities."
"Radek's not even human anymore," Rodney said. He drained the bowl then pushed his chair back, all enthusiasm for his idea gone. "There're lots of wizards who can make amulets," he said. "Maybe we can put out a call along with Lorne's for fighters."
"That's a fine idea," Teyla said, "but with Radek incapable of magic, you are the best amulet maker at court."
Rodney nodded. "I know, but that can't be helped, can it? It'll be better than nothing." He stood, took a breath. "All right. I'm going to take a bath, then see if I can figure out something a little less likely to fail spectacularly."
"It's a sound idea, Rodney," Teyla said. She stood as well, pushing herself up. Rodney resisted the urge to help her since he knew she wouldn't appreciate it.
"Thanks," Rodney said. He knew his smile was wan. "I just hope it's not the best one I can come up with."
Teyla smiled back at him. "Perhaps the bath will inspire you." She looked like she wanted to pull him into one of her people's forehead touches, but her hand only got near the back of his neck before she drew it back. "I'll see you later."
Rodney nodded. "See if you can find more wizards anyway," he said over his shoulder. "We'll need them.
"We'll sure as hell need them," he added to himself as he left.
Rodney almost fell asleep in the bath, and it was more the threat of drowning than the deadline to the next meeting that kept him awake. He was actually feeling a bit ill by the time he got out of the water, the kind of headachy weariness that can only be cured by a quiet, warm room and ten hours sleep.
"Yes, well, I'll sleep when I'm dead," Rodney sighed. "And you can warm up anytime now," he groused to the room in general. He'd used a linen towel to dry off, but he was still shivering. He hadn't returned to his room last evening to light a fire, and the temperature had dropped overnight until it felt barely warmer than it had been outside.
Grumbling, Rodney dragged on a fresh set of leggings and then put on his tunic from the day before. He'd slept in it, but it was still the warmest one he owned. Then he grabbed his other, shabbier surcoat from the wardrobe and struggled into it, too. He didn't even bother asking himself why he'd given Five the better one. He suspected it had little or nothing to do with being polite to a guest and everything to do with how much warmer the blue surcoat was, and how nice it looked against Five's skin.
"It's all right to look if you don't touch," Rodney said out loud as if he were arguing with himself. He finished buckling his belt and adjusting the several pouches so that they hung properly then nodded in satisfaction.
The room was finally warming as Rodney headed to the door. He rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you--I don't need it now," he said sourly, then shook his head at himself because he was talking to his room. If he got any less sleep he'd start thinking the whole castle was alive, the way Ronon and Teyla did. A yawn snuck up on Rodney as he closed and locked the door to his rooms behind him, as if underlining the point. "Damn it." Maybe he should go to the infirmary to wheedle some of Kanaan's restorative out of Carson. Then again, if Carson saw Rodney like this he'd be just as apt to order him to stay, and Rodney couldn't afford to waste time sleeping right now.
Besides, Carson would probably still be with Elizabeth, trying to slow her transformation. That was all he could do.
"Tea," Rodney said resolutely, determined not to think about Elizabeth right now. He'd visit her later, and there was still the tactical meeting to prepare for. He turned and headed in the direction of the kitchen. He wished they had something stronger than ordinary tea, but it couldn't be helped. The steady advance of the Wraith had disrupted trade routes. They were just lucky that Atlantis had enough food to last the winter. "Right," Rodney sighed. "Tea. Oh, hey, Radek."
Radek was standing in the middle of the hallway, shifting slightly from foot to foot. Rodney could hear the whirr and click of his gears working, despite the muffled banging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen nearby. He didn't answer when Rodney spoke to him, but his head snapped towards him, the lenses of his eyes flashing in the light as they focused. Radek wasn't wearing his spectacles anymore.
"Are you lost? Do you need help?" Rodney asked gently, his heart breaking. "Do you remember where you were trying to go?"
Radek didn't answer. He lurched towards Rodney.
"Where are your spectacles, Radek?" Rodney asked him. "Did you lose them?" Radek didn't answer, but he was still coming towards him, swaying awkwardly with each clumsy movement. Rodney backed up uncertainly. "Radek?" Radek's gears sounded especially loud, his feet clomping like iron over the stone floor. Rodney backed up further. "Radek?"
Radek kept coming.
"Oh, no," Rodney breathed. For a moment he couldn't move, overwhelmed by grief. He knew how to end this--he'd created the spell. But if he used it, Radek would die. Whatever was left of Rodney's friend him in this shambling, automated weapon would be gone. And Rodney couldn't do it.
Then Radek reached for him, and Rodney whirled and ran.
He started the ward sign for protection, his automatic defense as he pelted down the corridor, yelling for help. Rodney grabbed at his knife sheath, undoing the small buckle blindly and reaching for the hilt of his knife, only to have his fingers close on air. It was still on the table in his room.
"Souls in hell!" Rodney cancelled the ward sign with a wave of his hand. If he couldn't make himself bleed he couldn't pay for it. "HELP!" He barreled through the heavy wooden door into the kitchen, then threw himself against it and slammed it into Radek. Rodney winced at the loud bang and clatter when Radek was thrown to the floor.
"Sorry!" he called, even though there was no one to apologize to anymore. Then, "Run! Run! Get the watch!" he yelled to the kitchen staff, who were all frozen in place, looking at him like startled chickens. "Go! Out the back door--he's coming!" Rodney ran to the thick, rectangular butcher table and crashed into it, his feet skidding on the floor. The only knife within easy reach was a meat cleaver. If Rodney tried to cut himself with that he'd probably take his arm off. "Knives! I need a knife!" he hollered at the nearest person, but the young boy was white-eyed, gibbering with fright.
The door banged open behind them as the golem came in.
"Damn it!" Rodney grit out, glancing over his shoulder. He grabbed the boy by the neck of his tunic and all but dragged him along as he galloped towards the back door leading out to the compost piles and the animal pens. "Go! Run!" Rodney shoved the child at the doors and then turned around, looking wildly for a knife he could actually use without killing himself.
He grabbed a large cutting blade someone had been using to scrape vegetables, grimacing at the rime of greenhouse soil on it. Radek was clanging towards him, and there was nothing but two work tables between them now.
Rodney steeled himself and pushed back the sleeve of his left arm, but he'd forgotten about the linen bandage wrapping the still-healing wound. He didn't have time to take it off, and trying to stab through the material might do irreparable harm.
He glanced up in time to see Radek nearly on top of him, and Rodney instinctively stabbed at him with the knife. It hit Radek in his barrel-shaped torso, shredding his tunic, but it only grazed the metal and sent sparks flying in its wake. The force of Rodney's blow carried him right into the golem. Radek slammed his palm into Rodney's chest. The hit was strong enough to throw Rodney over the table, scattering vegetables and pottery. He landed hard on his shoulder, rolling with the impact and winded from the pain. Pieces of jugs and bowls crunched beneath him.
Rodney's blood was racing, muting the worst of the hurt in his shoulder. He kept rolling and regained his feet. He staggered towards the fire. His right shoulder was bright agony and his arm dangled, useless, so he used his left hand to snatch up a small iron cooking pot from its hook on the adjacent wall. He adjusted his grip on the handle and swung it into Radek's head with all his might.
The noise it made was incredible, the sound of metal on metal bouncing off the stone walls and ceiling. Radek's head jerked violently with the blow, and when he raised it again one of his eye lenses had cracked.
Rodney hit him again, putting his whole body into it, and the golem was knocked sideways, staggering. Rodney grinned viciously and drew back his arm for another swing. But this time Radek caught his hand, squeezing his fist around the handle until Rodney cried out in pain. Then Radek thrust Rodney's arm aside and plowed his fist into Rodney's jaw.
Rodney twisted his head just in time to avoid the worst of the impact, but he still heard it when part of his jaw shattered under the brutal strength of Radek's metal hand. Rodney's head snapped backwards, his vision going black. He came to a short moment later, with his feet sliding out from beneath him and sending him to his knees. Only Radek's grip on his hand kept him upright. Then the golem let go, and the dented pot slipped from Rodney's lax fingers to land ringing on the stone.
Rodney tried to throw himself to the side, away from Radek's next blow, but Radek's foot caught him in the stomach. Rodney skidded along the floor into the legs of another table. It juddered at the impact, and a wooden mortar hit him on the side and then went skittering away. Rodney was trying to get up, but he was too dazed and in too much pain to move. He watched blearily as Radek raised his foot to kick him again, this time in his face.
He was vaguely aware of the rapid tap tap tap of running before something barreled into the golem. Rodney caught a flash of blue and then Radek was suddenly gone. There was a tremendous crash of copper on iron as Radek was tackled into the cooking pots hanging over the fire.
Rodney rolled ponderously onto his stomach, struggling to concentrate and trying to blink the encroaching tide of black out of his eyes. It felt like something had exploded in his stomach and there was blood in his mouth. The pain from his broken jaw ricocheted off every part of his skull, and his entire right side hurt so much he had half a mind to find that cleaver and chop his arm off to fix it. He'd definitely sacrifice enough for the Recompense that way, too. Two birds with one stone and all that.
It occurred to him he might not be thinking entirely clearly.
Rodney used the table to lever himself shakily to his feet, looking for Radek and Five, then gasped in horror when he saw them. Five and the golem were still grappling, and still in the fireplace. The iron pots were swinging and bumping like pendulums, spilling boiling broth and water. Radek's leggings and tunic were burning, making him look like a living metal pyre. His copper body was streaked with black wherever the fire touched. And he was holding Five down in the flames.
Rodney lurched towards them, casting an extinguishing spell before he really registered the words on his lips. He could barely speak, but only the words mattered, not the sound, and the fire in the hearth and on Radek's clothes died instantly anyway. It was only in the instant afterwards that Rodney realized he hadn't paid for it, that he'd unthinkingly put Five's well-being ahead of his own.
But surely the blood in Rodney's mouth was payment enough?
Five reached up and upended one of the pots into Radek's face, sending scalding hot liquid pouring over the lenses of Radek's eyes and down his metal chest, making him reel. Then Five brought his knees up and planted both his feet into Radek's chest, shoving him tumbling backwards. Radek hit the butcher table and it tipped loudly onto its side.
Five leapt to his feet. He was badly singed and the chest of his surcoat was soaking. One lens of his goggles had cracked and there was a puff of smoke rising from his hair, but he should have been burned alive, Rodney was certain, his lizard skin split like a frog's in the desert. But Five was panting and a little wild-eyed, but mostly fine. Rodney couldn't fathom it, until the memory trickled through his thickening head that he'd given Five an amulet of protection, and Teyla probably had too.
Five had magical protection, but Radek was made of metal and couldn't feel pain. Radek was exceedingly strong now, probably stronger than Five, and was already climbing to his fire-blackened feet. Five hissed at Rodney, the command obvious, and in that instant his attention wasn't entirely on the golem Radek swung his arm in a wide, backhanded arc that caught Five in the head, sending him staggering with the impact. His goggles flew off and the one intact lens burst on the floor.
Radek followed immediately with another blow, and when Five automatically put up his arm to block it, Rodney could see his forearm wrench as the bone snapped. Five made an inhuman sound of pain.
Rodney's eyes flew wide in shock, and he looked at Five's throat to find the amulet pouch, not understanding why it wasn't helping him. He frantically searched the debris with his eyes, and finally saw the black pouch with its broken cord lying on the hearth of the cold fireplace. Whether intentionally or not, Radek had ripped it off Five's neck.
Rodney was fairly certain a human would have been incapacitated from the pain, but Five was still moving. He ducked under Radek's next blow and darted away. He swooped the nearest intact jug off the floor with his good hand and smashed it into Radek's face, but it only skidded off the metal the way Rodney's knife had done. Radek kept coming.
Radek swung again, always aiming for Five's head and face. Five dodged back, and the golem's fist just missed pulverizing his nose, then Five twisted his body and grabbed Radek's wrist with his good hand. Rodney was sure Five had been planning on throwing Radek back to the floor, but he tore his hand away with another cry, burned.
He leapt onto the last table still standing to avoid Radek's next hit, one arm nearly useless and his other with a palm blackened by burns. Rodney saw Five clench his jaw before he kicked Radek in the head, sending him wheeling off-balance. Then he jumped away, putting more space between them. He hissed at Rodney again, but Rodney ignored him.
Rodney was trying to cast a protection spell to make up for the lost amulets. It was one of the first ones he'd ever learned as a child, and probably wouldn't protect Five from a thrown carrot, but it was the fastest one Rodney could say with a mouth that would barely obey him.
Radek was still stumbling after Five, ignoring Rodney entirely. The only weakness of a golem was that it could only concentrate on one target at a time.
Five saw the golem coming and did a beautiful leap right up into the air as Radek grabbed for him, flipping and spinning his body so that Five was behind Radek as he landed. Radek turned towards him and Five punched him in his unbroken eye, cracking the lens, then deflected Radek's wrist when he tried to hit him. Radek retaliated by lifting his palm and sending a jet of steam into Five's open eyes.
Five screamed, instinctively reeling backwards and clapping his still-working hand over his face. And Radek followed him. He kicked Five in the knee--Rodney actually heard it break--then when Five's leg collapsed Radek grabbed him around the throat.
Five choked, struggling to breathe, his skin burning everywhere Radek was touching him. He scrabbled at Radek's hand with his still-useable one, trying to pry away Radek's fingers. He bucked and kicked, but the golem had no groin to crush and even a dented belly meant nothing to him. Radek calmly plucked Five's hand from where Five was trying to protect his throat, and closed his fist around the fingers, squeezing.
Rodney stumbled towards them. Five's struggles were getting weaker, his eyes going dull and fixed, locked on Rodney's.
Rodney howled wordlessly in denial and fear, and Radek's head creaked on his neck as he turned to look at him. There was nothing there behind the cracked lenses of his eyes.
Five had stopped kicking. He was dying, might already be dead, and Rodney knew a spell that would save him--the first words were already on Rodney's lips--but then Radek would be gone.
Rodney froze. He couldn't. He couldn't do it.
Rodney grabbed the first thing near him on the floor and then heaved the serving dish at the golem as hard as he could with his one working arm. Something wrenched inside him where he'd been kicked, but if there was one thing a mage learned early, it was aim, and even using his off-hand he managed to wing the dish right into Radek's head. Radek looked at him again, and Rodney spanged a ladle off his forehead, then threw a potato into his side.
Finally, finally, Radek decided that Rodney was more of a threat than Five was, and his hands sprang open, dropping Five to the stone floor. Five's body jerked with the impact, but after that he lay unmoving, frighteningly still.
Rodney swallowed, terrified, but he didn't move until Radek started towards him in his swaying, clanking gait. Then Rodney ran to the kitchen's back door in a pained, lopsided lope, clutching his hurt arm to his stomach because every step threw agony up and down his body and it felt horribly like his guts were about to fall out onto the floor. Rodney wanted to cast a healing spell on himself, but there was no time, and he knew that the weak trickle of blood in his mouth wasn't adequate Recompense anyway.
He cried out in pain as he used his good shoulder to plow his way through the door. Then he was suddenly in blinding sunshine, squinting at the endless, bright white. The cold sank into him like a blade, freezing his breath in his nose and lungs.
Rodney stumbled on, his boots making waxy squelching sounds in the thick snow. He was aiming for the gate at the far end of the kitchen yard that would take him into the bailey, where, Gods willing, he'd finally run into the thrice-damned watch and actually get some help. Not that Rodney expected the soldiers to be able to destroy the golem, but they could at least buy Rodney some time.
He could barely hear the clatter of Radek's joints over his own panting and the thudding of his blood in his ears, but Rodney knew he wasn't going to make it even before he whirled around in time to see Radek less than an arm's length away and reaching for him. Rodney cried out in terror, rushing backwards in what he knew was a futile attempt to put more distance between them.
Radek's hands closed on Rodney's surcoat and then just as suddenly he let go, stepping backwards clumsily with an arrow shaft in his eye.
Rodney didn't waste his miraculous reprieve. He tried to turn around again and keep running, but his foot hit something buried in the deep snow and he fell sprawling on his stomach. The snow cushioned him, but even so the pain was so terrible that for a long, awful moment he couldn't seem to breathe. When he could at last draw in air again he rolled onto his back so he could at least see to defend himself.
Radek finally pulled the arrow out of his eye, his smoke-stained arms whirring and clicking. He dropped it into the snow and took a step towards Rodney.
Ronon leaped over Rodney and slammed into Radek, carrying them both down into the snow. He'd dropped his bow, but his quiver was still rattling on his back. "Move!" Ronon yelled to him, struggling to keep Radek from standing.
Rodney tried, but the snow was deep and he was freezing and injured and so incredibly tired. He managed to struggle onto his side, then levered himself, whimpering, up to his knees. He was shaking from the cold and his fingers were already numb.
He could hear the ringing of metal armor as the watch came running up, and it sounded like they'd all been patrolling the north wall from the direction of the noise, which at least managed to explain why they'd taken so long. Not that it would help Ronon, who was too close to Radek to let the watch aim either weapons or their clumsy, amateur spells.
"Go, Rodney!" Ronon bellowed. There was no way Ronon could defeat Radek; he was just keeping him occupied so that Rodney could get away. Not even Ronon and the entire watch could truly harm the golem. Only magic could. Mage magic.
Rodney blinked the tears out of his eyes, felt them freezing on his skin. He had to use the spell, there was no choice. There never truly had been.
Except Rodney knew he wasn't bleeding enough. He couldn't pay the Recompense.
Rodney reached for his knife again and then cursed silently when his hand just hit empty air. He hadn't thought about grabbing a knife as he escaped the kitchen, and the arrow was lost, hidden somewhere in the snow. Rodney didn't have anything, nothing sharp--
He went still, then grabbed his belt with his numb, fumbling left hand and yanked it around until he could scramble the biggest pouch open. The tin snips. The Wraithraping tin snips Five had given back to him. He still had them. He'd been carrying them around like some stupid good luck charm.
Rodney scrabbled them out with his good hand. He was already mouthing the words to the spell as he clasped the tin snips around the handle in his fist. There was no time to find a safe place on his arm to wound. But there were plenty of other places that would bleed.
Radek. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Rodney thought, then stabbed the point of the tin snips deep into his thigh. He tried to grit his teeth, but his jaw was too weak for it. Even so his cry of pain still came out as a strangled whine. He yanked the snips out of his leg with a jerk, watching the blood well, and then choked out the last word and the spell was cast.
Radek stiffened like a clockwork toy that had run out of winding. There was a faint sound of gears that went completely silent all at once. Then he slowly collapsed back into the snow.
Rodney dropped the snips from his shaking hand, and then watched in dull fascination as blood pooled from the deep gash and soaked into his leggings. It was the only place on his body that felt warm.
Ronon appeared at his side, even though Rodney couldn't remember hearing him moving, and then Major Lorne was there as well, looking tense and upset and trying to take Rodney's other arm. Rodney screamed and Lorne let go like he'd been scalded.
"I think his shoulder's busted," Ronon said. He swung Rodney gently up into his arms, holding him against his chest like a child. Rodney moaned in pain, holding his stomach.
"He needs Beckett," Lorne said worriedly, then jogged next to Ronon as Ronon strode quickly back to the kitchen door. "We got here as soon as we could," he said. "Is it dead?"
"Yeah," Ronon said. "Rodney did it." He looked down at Rodney and gave him a small, sad smile. "You did good," he said.
Rodney didn't answer. Ronon felt like a furnace even through his clothes, and Rodney just wanted to lean his head on his chest and close his eyes, but he couldn't yet. He had to tell them...
"Five," he said, forcing the words out of his mouth. It felt like a hammer on his jaw and he wasn't even sure the one word was intelligible, but Ronon nodded.
"He's hurt? Hurt bad?" Ronon asked, and Rodney was grateful that he could just nod. He pointed at the kitchen doors, hoping Ronon would understand.
"Someone go get the physician!" Lorne hollered at the watch soldiers with him. He looked at Ronon, concern and cold whitening his face. "I can't do healing spells."
"Get Teyla," Ronon said, and Lorne nodded. He paused long enough to hold the door open for Ronon before he bolted.
The shock of heat once they were in the kitchen was nearly as painful as the cold outside had been. Five was still lying on the floor, motionless as the stone beneath him. Rodney's pounding heart was suddenly its own kind of pain. He squeezed his eyes shut.
He heard the bang as Ronon stepped on a leg of one of the tipped tables to lever it upright, then felt Ronon lowering him gently down. "Rodney! You with me?" Rodney forced his eyes open. "Good. Stay with me. I need you awake. We got to stop the bleeding," Ronon explained. "Can you do it yourself?
Rodney shook his head.
Ronon winced. "Hang on--I'll find some clean linen."
Rodney whined to get Ronon's attention then pointed at Five. "Help him," he mumbled through the stabbing pain in his jaw.
Ronon barely glanced at Five. "You're more badly injured," he said.
Rodney made a sound of denial. When Ronon looked back at him he mimed being choked, made his expression urgent.
Ronon grunted, then just turned and went to the cupboard where they kept the clean linen for drying the washed dishes. "He'll be fine," Ronon said, grabbing a handful of cloth. He came back to Rodney.
He tried to press the linen to Rodney's leg and Rodney kicked at him, and then wished he hadn't because of how much it hurt.
Ronon caught Rodney's ankle, holding it down gently but firmly in his grip. He pressed the folded square of cloth over Rodney's wound, and Rodney arched in pain. "Rodney, look at me!"
Rodney looked at him, snarling, tears pain and grief and frustration in his eyes. "He's going to be fine," Ronon repeated fiercely. "There was a portent!--how do you think he knew where you were?" Ronon jutted his chin in Five's direction as he continued applying pressure. "See?"
Rodney blinked, turned his head. Five was lying in the same position, but his eyes were open, shining like gems. He tried to move, but as soon as he bent his broken knee he hissed in pain.
"Didn't say he wasn't hurt," Ronon amended. "Don't worry," he said to both of them. "Teyla and Carson'll be here soon." He frowned at how red the makeshift pressure bandage had become, and then put another folded cloth on top. "You have to make this clot or something, Rodney," Ronon urged quietly. "I know this fight isn't what's going to kill Five, but I'm not so sure about you."
Rodney shook his head and closed his eyes. "Don't understand," he whispered. He wasn't sure there'd been enough blood for what he'd had to do to Radek. If he stopped his bleeding there might not be enough left to pay for it, and he'd already risked too much when he'd extinguished the fire. He wasn't going to risk more, not with two people he cared about standing right there in the room.
"Curse it! Rodney--!" Ronon began, but then he was cut off by a loud thump, and Rodney opened his eyes again. Five was leaning heavily on the table, using it to support most of his weight, staring gravely down at him.
His eyes were beautiful, Rodney thought incongruously.
"Here, help me," Ronon said gruffly to Five. "Don't break his leg." Five nodded. He put his hands where Ronon's had been, his expression apologetic. Then he leaned into it.
Rodney screamed and slid away into nothing.
Things became pretty incomprehensible for a while after that.
He was aware of very little beyond how much he hurt, and slipping between feeling so cold it was as if he were buried in ice, or so hot that his flesh was burning off the bone.
He called for help, shouting until his jaw felt like a snapped hinge, convinced he was in the clutches of the Wraith. Sometimes he was certain the Wraith had killed Radek, or Teyla, and he would cry for her and her unborn baby, inconsolable until he heard singing and he could sleep again. Sometimes he would dream of an army of golems, watching from some unknown vantage point as the gleaming metal phalanx methodically dismantled the city walls and came through, killing everyone with their unswerving focus. He would beg to be taken to the chair, insisting he could save everyone if they'd only let him, but they wouldn't, and when he fought to get there by himself they restrained him. He could feel the magic holding him down like shackles and he couldn't free himself because he had nothing to cut his skin with, and he couldn't move his hands to reopen the wound on his thigh.
He remembered Ronon talking to him, telling him how he and Five had been less than halfway to the forest when they'd come across a rabbit nearly sliced in two by a bear trap, and how Ronon had known immediately what that had meant. Rodney had been insulted at being likened to a rabbit, but Ronon was gone by the time Rodney had the strength to tell him.
He knew Teyla sat with him because of her singing and how she held his hand, and he tried to pull away from her but someone--he didn't know who--kept whispering, it's too late, it's too late, and Rodney was so scared for her and he would try to send her away from him, chase her with the cruelest, most hurtful words he knew, but she wouldn't leave.
No one left him. He was never alone. Sometimes Rodney would drift up until he was almost awake, and hear Carson's measured chanting, or Ronon's growling voice as he read aloud from the Satedan Heroic Cycles. Elizabeth came at least once; Rodney knew she was there by the scent of copper and the whirring sounds. He told her how sorry he was, over and over again, sometimes forgetting that it was Elizabeth and not Radek he was begging for forgiveness, until Carson gently led her away.
And sometimes, he would feel someone crawl into the bed and lay next to him, wrapping Rodney's trembling body in his arms, and he knew it was Five because his skin would be pebbly and yet smooth, and cool as water as he pressed against the red heat of Rodney's back. Five would stay with him, leaching the awful burning away, until Five's body was too hot to feel good and he would slip away again.
Rodney would have entire conversations with Five in his head: Who are you? What happened to you? What did you do that was so terrible you couldn't remain a Shield? Five would speak to him, giving reasonable, satisfying answers, and then Rodney would wake up and never remember them.
So it went, until Rodney opened his eyes, woken by the sound of chanting, and the world was substantial and real and he knew where he was and what he was and his name. Almost all of him had been painted with symbols in black calligraphers' ink, except for a discrete length of linen wrapped around the private parts of his body, and bandages on his stomach and thigh. The injuries had been wrapped in brightly-colored strips of linen and covered with their own sets of symbols. On impulse Rodney turned his head to see if there was a bandage on his wounded shoulder, and was dismayed at the difficulty of that simple movement. His shoulder wasn't bandaged, which wasn't surprising given the area, but it had been painted so thickly with symbols that Rodney could barely see the skin.
Carson was standing at the end of Rodney's bed, chanting with his arms raised and his eyes screwed shut in concentration. He was holding his locus in his right hand and the blue-green gem was glowing brightly, a clear indication of how much effort Carson was putting into his magic. When he finished the spell he took the staff in both hands and gave the end a solid thump on the floor, like an audible exclamation point. Then Carson opened his eyes, and was looking right into Rodney's.
"Gods above!" he exclaimed. Then he beamed, despite how heavily he was breathing. He wiped the sweat off his face with a piece of linen from the bedside table and then went immediately to Rodney's side. He sat down in the chair next to Rodney's head, still panting, and Rodney noticed that his hands were trembling lightly from effort. "Rodney." He was still beaming, and Rodney was wondering just how badly off he'd been, that Carson should be looking so awfully relieved. "It's so good to see you awake!" Carson said breathlessly. He waved vaguely at himself. "Just--just give me a moment and we'll see how you're doing."
Rodney nodded slowly. He was unbelievably tired. "You painted me," he said, then realized his jaw didn't hurt. He'd meant to ask why he'd been covered with druidic symbols, but the right words apparently had gotten lost somewhere on the route to his tongue.
Luckily Carson seemed to understand him anyway. He chuckled. "You'll just have to let it fade, since it won't wash off, but you need to keep the symbols on your skin for as long as possible anyway." His smile disappeared. "You gave us quite a scare, you did," he said gravely. "I've rarely seen anyone so sick with fever who survived it with their wits and body intact. In truth, I've rarely seen anyone survive such fevers at all. If it wasn't for Teyla..." He let the words trail off, shaking his head. "She kept you calm when you were thrashing like a crazed animal, and helped me to keep your fever down when nothing else would." He swallowed. "There was one terrible night where she spent the whole thing, dusk 'til after dawn, binding your soul to your body." He looked straight ahead, blindly patting Rodney's healthy shoulder, and something in Rodney was both awed and terrified to see the shine of tears in his eyes. "You're the most stubborn man I know, but you were so tired, you'd been fighting so hard for so long..." Carson swallowed again, wiping his eyes with his fingers. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't keep you here, but she did." He wiped his eyes again and turned back to Rodney, giving him a watery smile. "You'll need to do something spectacular to thank her properly."
Rodney blinked. "I don't remember," he said. He was hoarse, his voice crackling in his dry throat. Carson wordlessly helped prop him up with pillows and gave him a drinking bowl of something that Rodney knew was cold tea as soon as he tasted it. Not Kanaan's restorative either, but Rodney could tell by the bitter taste there was medicine in it. He supposed he meant Carson had expected him to wake up, which was somehow heartening, but he didn't have the energy to ask. He drank slowly, Carson helping him keep the bowl in his shaking hands. Rodney noticed distantly that he could move his right arm, and nothing much hurt anymore. "I mean, I remember her singing," he said when he'd drained the bowl. Just... just not that."
Carson nodded as if that was only natural. He stood, reached under the bed and produced a blanket that Rodney was sure had come from Ronon's room. The infirmary was actually quite warm, which Rodney certainly appreciated since he was all but naked, but he was instantly more comfortable as soon as Carson covered him with the blanket from toes to waist.
Then Carson gave Rodney the same sad smile as before, though there was also relief in it. "You weren't there, Rodney," he said. "Not in any sense you could be aware of." He looked at Rodney with such fondness that Rodney had to look down at the blanket.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Ach," Carson scolded gently. "It's not as if you did it on purpose, you great lummox." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Well, I suppose you did, actually. I've never seen anyone so stupid as to stab themselves with scissors!" he tutted. "Remember all your brave words about infections?"
Rodney nodded again. He guessed he might be feeling impressively indignant if he had the energy for it. "I had no choice," he said.
Carson scowled so blackly at that that Rodney felt himself shrinking back into the pillows, wishing the blanket was covering more of him so he could pull it up to his chin. "Of course there was a choice!" Carson half-shouted. "There's always a choice!" He made a noise of inarticulate frustration and ran his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. "You damned cursed mages and your damned cursed bloody Recompense." He shook his head. "If you'd only listen--!" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if forcing himself to stay calm. Carson's smile was sheepish when he looked at Rodney again. "Sorry about that. It's just..." He sighed. "It wasn't pleasant, watching you die."
"I'm sorry," Rodney said again. He knew he'd be hotly defending what he knew was true of magic yet again if it wasn't for the tiredness pulling on him, not that arguing had ever gotten him anywhere with Carson or Teyla anyway. Only Elizabeth truly understood magic's zero-sum game. Her mage lines were mostly on her thighs, where almost no one would ever see them.
Thinking of Elizabeth and Radek threatened to overwhelm him. "Is Teyla all right?" he asked Carson quickly. It served as a good distraction, and Rodney truly wanted to know.
"She's fine," Carson said, smiling warmly. "She needed another few days to rest of course, but she and the wee babe are coming along perfectly, no worse for effort."
Rodney let out a sigh of profound relief. "Thank all the Gods."
"Oh, aye, all the time," Carson laughed. "Your, ah, Shield friend is fine too, though I suppose you were aware of that." Carson checked Rodney's pulse as he spoke, nodding to himself in satisfaction. "It took him a few days to be back on his feet, but I tell you, the lad's like a miracle." Carson shook his head in rueful admiration as he leaned down to examine Rodney's eyes. "It seems odd to me that being ensorcelled like that should give any benefits, and yet he can climb walls like an insect and heals faster than some of my spells. Not to mention his strength. Ronon told me that when Five found out you were in trouble, he ran so fast that Ronon lost sight of him. And he was riding his horse. At full gallop!" Carson made a fluttering gesture with his fingers as he moved his hand forward. "Ronon me it was faster than anything he'd ever seen."
"Huh," Rodney grunted. He'd been a little too busy staying alive to wonder where Ronon was at the time.
"I'm going to check your injuries now," Carson said, and Rodney appreciated the warning before Carson tugged the blanket aside. "I think we used up an entire tree with the number of healing amulets Teyla and I made for you--and that was above and beyond all the spells, of course." He smiled. "The major carved them for us, actually. I didn't know he was so talented. Of course Radek's amulet spells would've been better, but..." Carson seemed to pull himself back to the happier subject with an effort. "Well, we do what we can." He bent over Rodney's leg, with his hands on either side of Rodney's thigh, and Rodney did his best not to die of embarrassment as Carson closed his eyes and muttered a spell in what he called the 'old tongue' of his people. He looked reassuringly pleased when he straightened. "As I thought, the infection's gone, though you'll need to keep it wrapped for at least another day--we'll change the bandage again when the amulet runs out of magic."
"There's an amulet in the bandage?" Rodney asked.
"Oh, yes." Carson nodded vehemently. "Two, actually, and that's down from four, though the second one I made specifically to prevent infection. It'll be good for at least another day yet." He pointed at Rodney's similarly bound middle. "I was worried by all the blood in your mouth, but we were lucky, you just cut your cheeks on your teeth. Your belly was a terrible mess of bruises, though, it's a wonder you were able to stand. So we made amulets for that, too. As well as several to bring down fevers and such." He shrugged like none of this was terribly remarkable. "We couldn't bandage your shoulder and jaw, so I made do with healing signs, and of course Teyla was extremely helpful singing your bones together."
Rodney nodded, both to show he understood and to acknowledge how much Teyla had helped him. He wished she were there so he could thank her, and hoped he'd see her soon. "What about the other ones?" he asked.
Carson looked puzzled. "What other ones?"
Rodney gestured at his body in general. "Paint," he said.
"Oh!" Carson nodded quickly in understanding. "Various," he said. "More healing, symbols to help your body's defenses against infection, palliatives, anti-fever..." Carson grimaced apologetically. "The ones on your forehead and hands are meant to keep the Collectors from finding you. We were desperate," he explained at Rodney's wide-eyed expression.
Rodney nodded, swallowing. "Thanks."
Carson patted his good leg. "All part of the service." He bent over Rodney's stomach and did the murmuring thing and then he did the same to Rodney's shoulder. Apparently his jaw was no longer an issue, since Carson didn't mumble over Rodney's face. When he was finished he pulled up Rodney's blanket with a flourish. Then he looked like he'd just remembered something, and he smiled. "Oh! I should tell you--your Shield friend has a real talent for hunting. He went out a few times and always brought back a doe or stag, despite the lack of nearby foraging for them. He's quite remarkable."
Rodney nodded, though he was thinking about how far Five had to be travelling to find deer in this weather, how cold he probably was since Rodney knew full well he would never have asked for another protective amulet. Rodney promised himself that he'd make Five a new one--a proper, carved and painted one that would last--as soon as he could hold the tools for it. And he'd make Five a new pair of goggles, too, because he was equally certain Five hadn't asked anyone for a replacement to the ones Radek had destroyed.
"Is he hunting right now?" Rodney asked. He coughed because of his dry throat, and Carson poured another bowl of tea from the pitcher and gave it to him.
"Not today." Carson shook his head. "He left with Ronon last night to spy on the Wraith. They should be back sometime after dark." His smile seemed a little sly. "I have a feeling he prefers to be out there than fretting over you."
It was a little surprising that Elizabeth had sanctioned night missions, considering how adamant she'd been against it when Ronon and Five had first gone out. Rodney was almost certain that Five could see in the dark, which might've made a difference, or maybe it'd become too dangerous to attempt a spying mission during the day, which was very, very bad.
But what stuck in Rodney's mind was what Carson had just said: that Five might be worrying about him. "Oh," he said, because he didn't know what else to say to that. He knew that if things were reversed, he would be holed up in his workshop feverishly making amulets, or ransacking the wizard's library for better healing spells, rather than sitting by Five's bedside and being scared and miserable that he couldn't do anything. Rodney hated worrying about people he cared about--
"Curse it," Rodney said quietly.
"Beg pardon?" Carson had gone back to the bedside table while Rodney had been thinking. He was stirring a spoonful of some kind of powder into another bowl of tea, but he stopped to look over his shoulder.
"Sorry," Rodney said. "Not you. Just..." He shrugged and was surprised by the twinge of pain in his shoulder. He'd obviously gotten used to not feeling it. "Did he...sleep with me?"
Carson choked a bit then quickly turned his full attention back to the tincture he was making, stirring the liquid in the bowl like his life depended on it. "Well, um..." He coughed. "You were obviously too sick to, well, sleep together," Carson said with hilariously obvious emphasis. "But yes. He was actually surprisingly good at cooling you down, especially since he'd crawl in with you practically the instant he'd returned from hunting or missions with Ronon or whatever. I think he must have scrubbed himself off in the snow, because he was always very clean and shivering like he had palsy, poor man." Carson smirked fondly as he remembered. "Most of the time it was he holding you, until he got too warm to do you any good. But sometimes you'd turn around in your sleep and grab him like a child's blanket, like you were trying to crawl into his skin for the relief of it. Ach, you were so sick." He finished what he was doing and handed the bowl to Rodney. "I know this will taste awful, but it will keep you from hurting and help you sleep. I know that I could just bespell you as well," Carson went on quickly as Rodney opened his mouth, "but in case you didn't notice all the chanting, I'm a little knackered at the moment. Besides." He patted Rodney's shoulder again. "Magic is all well and good, but we've the whole of nature's gifts too, don't we? No sense in only taking the middle of the bread, eh?"
Rodney rolled his eyes, but he knew Carson had a point, so he dutifully drank the whole bowl down. It didn't taste quite as awful as he was expecting, though it was hardly pleasant.
After that he definitely needed to use the nearby water closet, and tried not to be mortified at either being completely naked when he left the bed or at how much he needed to lean on Carson simply to get there. He also did his best to ignore how Carson hovered just outside to make sure he wouldn't faint and kill himself while using the toilet. The face in the tiny, very expensive mirror perched above the sink looked so thin and pale that for a moment Rodney could scarcely believe it was his own. His face was also covered with symbols: the ward signs marching across his forehead that Carson had told him about; smaller ones decorating his cheeks, and a veritable swarm of them on the formerly broken side of his jaw. He worked his jaw back and forth experimentally, but there was no pain at all anymore. It really was healed.
Rodney took a moment to look at the rest of him, examining the symbols all over his arms and his body. He knew most of them, though he was surprised that there were a few he'd never seen before. He was sure several were Athosian, because he recognized Teyla's confident, graceful brushstrokes. What really amazed him were the ones Ronon had made, because he hadn't known Ronon had learned that kind of magic. He'd only ever talked about his augury.
It was humbling, knowing that so many people had gone to such lengths for him.
Rodney thought he'd probably lost weight, which wasn't unexpected but unnerving all the same. He didn't like feeling this vulnerable or weak. Somehow that reminded him that he hadn't asked Carson anything about the current state of their plans or the movements of the Wraith, and then he realized he didn't even know what day it was, though Carson had strongly implied that he'd been out of his mind with illness for a worryingly long time.
He fully intended to ask about what he'd missed, but Rodney was yawning and too tired to really care about anything, even being naked, other than getting back to his bed. He muttered his thanks as Carson helped him lay down, and Rodney had his eyes closed as soon as his head touched the pillow.
But he didn't try to sleep right away, because being by himself in the warm, wide bed made him think of Five, roaming for hours in the cold, so he could use own his body to cool Rodney down.
Despite himself, Rodney fell asleep wishing Five were beside him.
Part Four: A Skein of Red Yarn
Rodney woke to the sound of singing, and turned his head to see Teyla, resplendent in her simple blue gown, knitting a blanket from a bright red skein of yarn. Her belly looked even larger than Rodney remembered.
She saw he was awake and stopped singing, turning on her stool to face him and giving him a large, beautiful smile. "Rodney," she said with obvious pleasure. "It is so good to see you awake."
Rodney nodded. He felt ridiculous, but his throat was suddenly too tight to speak and he could feel the pricking of tears in his eyes. He smiled back, sure it looked watery and pathetic, and reached up his hand because he really, really wanted to hug her but he knew he was too weak to even sit up, let alone stand, and he hardly expected her to bend over in her state much less crawl onto the bed with him.
Teyla seemed to understand, though. She took his hand in both of hers and held it gently over her abdomen. "He is well and strong," Teyla said quietly. Her smile widened. "And as contrary as his father--he much prefers me walking than sitting, and is always quick to let me know with as many kicks as possible."
Rodney smirked, though he still didn't trust himself to speak. Almost immediately he felt two, firm kicks under his hand. To his great humiliation his laugh in response elided into a sob, and then he was crying like a child, holding both hands over his eyes as if that could possibly hide his embarrassment.
He felt Teyla's warm, slender fingers carding through his filthy hair, and she started singing again. Not a spell, just a song he recognized as one she often sang to herself. He didn't know the Athosian language, but he thought it was some kind of love song. He listened to her, breathing heavily until he finally was under control and he could move his hands. He thanked her with a nod when she wordlessly handed him a square of linen, then wiped his eyes as nose as quickly as possible, as if that would somehow negate his shame.
He swallowed. "I'm sorry," he said roughly, balling up the linen in his hand. "I didn't mean to start bawling in front of you."
Teyla's smile was undiminished. She kept stroking her fingers through his hair. "I do not accept your apology, because there is no reason for it. I am honored to witness your tears."
It was the kind of thing she said all the time, and might have sounded fake or trite from anyone else. But this was Teyla, so Rodney just nodded and tried not to feel stupid for having broken down for absolutely nothing because she so obviously didn't feel embarrassed to have seen it.
He nodded again, then sniffed and swallowed a few more times until he was sure he wouldn't collapse into more blubbering. He cleared the last remnants of water out of his eyes with his fingers. "Carson told me what you did," he said simply. "I guess I was more worried about you than I thought."
Teyla took his hand again, this time just holding it with his wrist resting comfortably on her leg. "Your fear also honors me," she said with deep seriousness, "but I promise you that I didn't do more than I was capable of." She patted her belly. "The little one in here wearies my body, but he strengthens me in spirit." She squeezed Rodney's hand. "I would have held you here for as long as I needed to," she said.
"I know," Rodney said, just as seriously. "I can't ever repay you."
"I do not require payment for having helped you, Rodney!" Teyla said sternly. "You are my friend. I would do the same for you again." She gave his hand another squeeze. "I know you would do as much for me--don't even try to deny it."
Rodney didn't, because she was absolutely right. "Thank you, all the same," he said. "Thank you."
Teyla smiled again. "You are most welcome. But you still being here and healing are payment enough." She chuckled. "I am also partial to the sweet almond paste that comes to the Market in the spring."
Rodney laughed with her and then squeezed her hand in return. "I'll get you a cartload."
Teyla's grin warmed Rodney from the inside out. "I look forward to it."
Rodney settled back on his pillows, feeling much happier and more relaxed. He knew that all the almond paste in the world wouldn't be adequate repayment for Teyla literally keeping his body and soul together, but he also knew that there was nothing that would, except perhaps for keeping her child safe, and he'd already resolved to do that as soon as she had revealed she was pregnant. Finding something as thanks for Carson would be easy as well, since the only things the druid really coveted were medicinal plants or magical items for healing, any of which would be easy enough to find or make in the spring. If they survived. But Rodney really didn't want to think about that just yet. "Do Ronon and Lorne like almond paste too?" he asked, mostly just to make Teyla chuckle again.
"Major Lorne used his boline a great deal to carve your healing amulets," Teyla said. "He told me the handle became loose and there is now a knick in the blade. I expect he would greatly appreciate a new one." Her smile was fond. "And Ronon would never say so, but I've seen him avidly examining more than one set of runes in the Market."
"Thank you," Rodney said, already thinking how he would get these things for them. He'd have to make them, with the Market over. A new ritual knife for Lorne wouldn't be much of a problem because Rodney could just enchant one of his nicer ones, but the runes for Ronon would be more difficult, since carving had never been Rodney's strong suit. Maybe he could just paint them, or he could ask Radek--
He hissed in a breath and then had to swallow as more tears threatened.
Teyla's smile vanished. "What is it, Rodney? What troubles you?"
Rodney swallowed again. "Radek," he said. And damn it, there went his eyes again, leaking like cracked cisterns. He blinked several times but it didn't help. "I didn't--"
Teyla leaned over as much as she was able and started smoothing through his hair again, saving him from having to actually say the words. "I know he would have not wanted to live in such a form," she said. "You did no more than what was necessary to save all of us." Her lovely dark eyes were very grave. "You know he would not have stopped until everyone in the castle was dead, and then everyone in the city. No one else could have prevented it."
Rodney nodded. "I know," he said. "It doesn't help." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "He was my friend." And I failed him, he didn't add, because it hurt so much that he couldn't make himself say it.
"He was my friend too," Teyla said. "But Radek's soul had already gone with the Collectors before your spell stopped his body."
Rodney tried to swallow the thickness out of his throat. "Where...uh, where did they put his body?" It would have to be melted down at some point, to ensure that it couldn't possibly reanimate, though the idea turned Rodney's stomach.
"In the chapel," Teyla said gently, "since the ground is frozen and we can't bury him. The windows are too high to reach, and the door has been barred. It was Major Lorne's suggestion," she added.
"That was a good idea," Rodney said softly. Even the heavy oak door of the chapel wouldn't keep a golem inside for very long, but it would at least give everyone ample warning. It was also traditionally the most respectful place to set out the dead before burial, where they could be watched over by each of the Gods. Rodney was sure he couldn't have thought of anything better himself.
"I thought so as well," Teyla agreed. Her fingers were still stroking rhythmically through Rodney's hair. Rodney couldn't even remember his own mother being so kind to him. "He and Radek were good friends."
"Yeah," Rodney said. He scrubbed his face with his palm. "It's my fault," he said. "I should never have let him--"
"Hush," Teyla said with enough sharpness to make Rodney start. "That was his choice, just as it was the queen's. You are no more to blame than they."
"I wish I could believe that," Rodney said. He shook his head, dislodging Teyla's hand. "Gods' truth, I can't even tell you how much." He pressed his eyes with his fingertips, trying to force back the water he could feel stinging traitorously behind the lids. "I should have been more careful. I should have known how they would react, Radek especially."
"Not even Ronon can peer into someone else's mind, Rodney," Teyla said.
"I know that," Rodney said. The words came out more sharply than he'd meant, but when he glanced guiltily at Teyla she didn't look like he'd upset her. "But I should've guessed he'd try to interfere." Rodney gave a tiny, sad laugh. "He was always such a terrible busybody. Worse than Carson."
Teyla smiled as well. She leaned towards him just enough to take his hand again. She felt so much warmer than he did, despite how he was all but swaddled in bedclothes and the abnormally high temperature in the room. "None of us would have stood by easily, Rodney," she said. She sighed and then began massaging his palm. "But the true tragedy is that neither of you needed to die, not even to defeat the Wraith."
The careful pressure of her fingers on his hand felt really nice, and the last thing Rodney wanted was to get into yet another argument about this anyway, but he couldn't listen to Teyla telling him in all but words that Radek's death and Elizabeth's dying was meaningless. "I'm sorry," he said, fighting to keep his voice as even and calm as hers. "But I wish you'd stop pretending you know anything about it."
He'd expected what he'd said would make her angry, not that he'd truly intended to, but there were limits to even Teyla's patience and especially when it came to discussing magic. But all she did was take a deep breath, letting it out gustily. "Very well," she said. She let go of Rodney's hand and he snatched it back, stung, but she reached over and gave it a small, affectionate squeeze before she bent cumbersomely to pluck something off the floor. It was the blanket, which Rodney had forgotten about. Teyla no longer had enough of a lap to put it in.
She picked up both the needles still holding the unfinished loops of yarn and showed it to him. "What is this?" she asked him, as if she were giving instruction.
Rodney looked at the red length of the blanket in progress, then back at Teyla's face. "A blanket?" he asked, wondering if there was some kind of trick to this, or what it might have to do with any sort of magic.
Teyla nodded, smiling a little at his uncertainty. "I'm not trying to trick you," she said as if reading his mind. "You're right. This is a blanket. Or it will be one when I've finished with it." She was still holding it up for him to see, and her smile widened. "What is this blanket being made with?"
"Yarn? Wool yarn?" Rodney asked, still dubious.
Teyla just smiled indulgently. "Yes, exactly. Now, tell me this." She reached down ponderously again and pulled up an unused skein of yarn, in the same red color as the rest of the blanket. She showed it to Rodney. "And if I asked you, you would say this was yarn as well, correct?"
Rodney nodded slowly. "Yes...so?"
Teyla fairly beamed at him. "Yes. It is of course more yarn." She picked up the two knitting needles to show the blanket again, holding the yarn skein up in the other. "Now tell me, what is the difference between the yarn in the blanket and the yarn in the skein?"
Rodney hesitated, sure there had to be a trick to this somewhere. He pointed at the blanket. "That one's being made into a blanket."
"That's right," Teyla said. She was still beaming, but there was a gentle triumph to it which Rodney wasn't sure was a good thing or not. "Except that I didn't ask you what was being done with the yarn--I asked you if there was any difference between them." She showed him the blanket and the skein again, her expression kind. "Is the yarn itself different?"
Rodney was about to snap that yes, one of the skeins of yarn was being made into a blanket, but that hadn't actually been the question. "No," he said, not sure if he should feel pleased with himself or like a fool. "The yarn is the same."
"Yes," Teyla said, sounding deeply satisfied. "And if I miss a stitch and have to unravel part of the blanket, the yarn is still the same, yes?" She waited for Rodney's bemused nod. "The yarn is still yarn, regardless of what I do to it. It isn't diminished, it isn't used up, only its form has been changed, not its substance." She handed him the coil of yarn that trailed away from her knitting needles. Rodney took it automatically. "So it is with magic."
Rodney glared at the clump of yarn in his hands. "That was an...interesting analogy, but it's meaningless. You can't possibly be trying to tell me that magic is the same as yarn, Teyla!"
"But that is exactly what I'm doing," Teyla said, nodding. The look she gave him was sympathetic. "I understand that it goes against everything you've learned since you were a child, but that does not make it less true. The form of magic might change, depending on how we use it, but its fundamental substance does not. It cannot diminish or fade, and cannot be paid for, any more than we can pay for our own lives."
Rodney dropped the yarn and clenched his fists in frustration. "No, Teyla." He inhaled slowly, mostly to calm himself since he doubted he had the energy for a real diatribe. "I appreciate what you're saying, I really do, and I really, really wish magic worked like that. But it doesn't. If I didn't offer it some...some of myself first, it would just take its own payment. Which is...which would be pretty horrible." His voice dropped. "You've seen how horrible it is."
Teyla was concentrating pointedly on her knitting, her mouth set in a fierce, thin line. "I do not understand why it has never occurred to you that it is perhaps the mages who have imposed this on themselves, who have created this need, in the very way they have crafted their spells. I am certain that if you would just open yourself to magic, instead of fearing it, you would discover what the other wizards have always known, but the mages have forgotten."
"I'm not frightened of magic, Teyla!" Rodney barked. He forced his temper to cool. "I'm not afraid of using magic, Teyla."
"All I am asking is for you to consider what I have told you," she said. She gestured at the depleted coil of yarn resting on his legs. "This will be easier to do if you hold that for me." She ignored Rodney's sour look as he picked the yarn up. The needles, carved of deer bones, clacked in rhythm as she began knitting again. "I have wondered, on occasion, if the Recompense wasn't created purposely by the founders of the mages themselves, to impose a limit on their own power, with the chair and the price it exacts representing both the greatest expression of a mage's power, and the greatest control over it."
"That's not true," Rodney said. But he couldn't explain the minute shiver her words had sent down his spine.
Death was the Recompense for using the chair. He'd told Five that because it was the truth. Death was always the Recompense, because there was no other way for anyone to wield that much magic. Ultimate power demanded ultimate sacrifice.
"So you say," Teyla said mildly. Her knitting needles went clack, clack, clack in the silence, transforming one thing into another, but leaving it fundamentally the same.
Rodney fell asleep again shortly after Teyla left, and he woke hungry with the dark of the early night outside and the flickering of torches illuminating the room.
And he nearly jumped out of his skin before he realized that the dark mass with the two glowing yellow circles was Five, sitting cross-legged on the bed and looking at him.
"Don't do that!" Rodney half yelled at him, clutching his hand over his heart. "I'm serious--I just got over a, a really bad illness, here! I'm in a very fragile state!"
Five's amused snort was far from the abject contrition Rodney had been hoping for, but Rodney found he actually couldn't care very much. "Fine," he huffed. "Laugh at the invalid. I hope you've brought me something to eat, instead of just lurking like a Collector at the end of my bed."
Rodney couldn't see Five's expression in the dark, but he could tell by how his silence turned stony that he'd said the wrong thing. "I'm sorry," Rodney said quickly, feeling like an idiot. If he was really lucky he'd burst into tears again. He didn't like being so embarrassed so often. "I should have guessed that you'd be touchy about...you know." He gestured vaguely at Five's body. "The being blue thing. I really don't think you look like a, um, demon or Wraith or Collector or anything."
If anything Five seemed even less impressed. He bared his teeth, which Rodney knew was about a step away from hissing on the scale of Five pissyness. Five pointed at Rodney, then made a sharp gesture across his throat like cutting, then pointed at the floor and snarled.
"I'm not mocking the fact that I almost died!" Rodney protested hotly. "I know how lucky I am! Are you kidding me?" He crossed his arms over his chest and tried not to dwell on how silly he must look, lying down with his bare, pale chest bright as a lantern in the few places it wasn't covered with symbols. "I am very aware of the fact that I should be plying my trade in the underworld by now. What, that means I can't make a joke anymore?"
Five's mouth closed, leaving his narrowed eyes as the brightest points on his face. Rodney could see more-or-less well in the dark now and he could tell how Five's lips had flattened into a thin, unhappy line. Then he dropped onto all fours, finally stretching out next to Rodney on top of the blanket, burying his face against the curve of Rodney's neck.
"Oh," Rodney said quietly. "Um, yes. You're right. I should have realized. I wouldn't have enjoyed watching you dying, either." He felt Five's nod against his neck, and shuffled around awkwardly until he could throw his arm across Five's back. He could feel the scratchy wool of Five's tunic and guessed it had come from Ronon, since Rodney couldn't stand the feel of that kind of rough wool on his skin. He was sure the tunic and surcoat he'd lent Five had been ruined during the fight. "I'm sorry. You're right. It's really not very funny."
Five nodded again.
"You're freezing, you know," Rodney said. "And since you woke me up with your creepy brooding and it's obvious you didn't think to bring me anything to eat, you might as well stay here and make it up to me." Rodney knew he had completely failed to sound disinterested and was also blushing horribly, so he was very glad for the darkness as Five, unsmilingly, nodded again before he moved away so Rodney could lift the blanket. "Oh, take off that tunic," Rodney added. "It will give me a bad rash and you know Carson will think it's some horrible disease." He smiled to himself at Five's bark of laughter, then admired what he could in the low light as Five took off his belt and pulled the tunic over his head. He forced himself not to be disappointed that Five kept his leggings on.
Rodney shivered when Five crawled in beside him. "Souls in hell, where have you been?" Rodney demanded. "Here." He rolled over so that Five could stretch out along his back and wrap him in his frigid arms, and then tried to ignore that Five's groin was pressed against his very naked ass, with nothing but the leggings between them, which he was now desperately pleased were still on Five's body. He felt the very cold tip of Five's nose against the back of his neck, and could hear him inhaling in the silence of the night. "I don't even want to know what I smell like right now," Rodney said. He knew he'd been bathed at some point during his illness, as much to keep him cool as clean, but the most recent one had been over two days ago according to what Teyla had told him, and his hair felt grungy enough to crawl off on its own. "You're insane, you know that?" he added fondly when Five just made his contented humming noise. He moved his arm so he could put his hand over Five's, feeling the texture of the skin. He was very careful not to touch the tips of Five's claws. "I really need to cut those," Rodney said musingly, not even wondering why there was no question that he'd be the one to do it. "Of course, I have no idea what happened to the tin snips. They're probably still outside." Where he killed Radek. He didn't want to think about that.
Five didn't answer, so they just lay together quietly. Rodney tried not to shiver, because he didn't want to Five to think he should leave. "Carson told me how you've been hunting," he said. "The extra food will be a big help if we end up under siege, which we probably won't, unfortunately, because I'm pretty sure the Wraith will just barge in." He felt Five's reluctant nod. At least neither of them were under the delusion they might survive. Rodney played with Five's thumb. "And I know that you used your body to cool mine down from the fever." Five nodded again against his neck. "I wanted to thank you, for that. I don't really remember it, but...but I know it would have meant a lot to me." He folded his hand around Five's. "It does mean a lot to me."
He felt the dry, cool brush of Five's lips against the back of his neck by way of answer, and couldn't stop how his body trembled in response, though it had nothing to do with the cold.
Five made a small noise that wasn't laughter this time, and kissed Rodney's neck again, then started mouthing the skin there. He gave Rodney's fingers a gentle squeeze where they were wrapped around his own, then moved his hand to slide it over Rodney's ribcage. Five made a sound of obvious dismay at the prominence of the bones.
"I'm all right," Rodney said softly, though he didn't actually feel all right. It felt a little like he was having trouble breathing, and his heart was thumping so hard in his chest he could hear the thud of it in his ears. Five's palm slid lower, carefully over the bandages still wrapped beneath Rodney's ribs, then down to the nest of fur at his groin. Five's hand settled there, just above Rodney's cock, a request and invitation.
Rodney sucked in a breath. He knew Five was wasn't moving because he was waiting for Rodney to assure him this was what he wanted. And Rodney did want it. He was so hard it almost hurt and he wanted Five so badly...But he couldn't. He couldn't have him. He didn't dare.
"No," he said. He put his hand on Five's wrist, and felt Five's hand curling into a fist. "I'm sorry," Rodney whispered.
Five moved away from him and sat up.
"No!" Rodney flipped over so fast each of his injuries sang out in pain. "Ow!" He reached blindly and managed to slap his hand over Five's forearm and held on for dear life. "Don't go! Please, don't go," he said more quietly when he was sure Five wouldn't just shrug him off. "I don't want you to leave."
He could feel Five's hesitation, and then the bed shifting and creaking as he lay down again, this time with the two of them facing each other. Five's arms snaked tentatively around Rodney's waist, and then held him more firmly when Rodney did the same in return.
"I'm sorry," Rodney said. He started running his hand up and down Five's back. It was still cold, and Rodney could feel what seemed like every nub and edge of his spine. The bones felt sharper than a human's, ridged like an animal's. "You're so thin," Rodney said. "Is this normal?"
Five shrugged.
"Yeah, I guess you wouldn't know," Rodney said softly. He bent his arm so he could trail his fingers over Five's ribs, which made Five shudder. Rodney wondered if he was ticklish, and then remembered that he could never find out.
It's too late, his mind whispered traitorously. What difference is touching him going to make? Rodney did his best not to listen.
"I'm a mage," he said, and Five nodded, his face somber. "We--we're not allowed to, to...be...with people like that." Rodney knew he shouldn't be touching Five now, but he didn't have the will to stop. "It's forbidden. You understand?"
Five nodded again, but then shook his head.
Rodney blinked. "Wait--do you mean you don't understand? Or that, what? You understand but you don't care? You understand but you don't agree with it? You understand but you think I'm crazy?"
Five put his fingers over Rodney's lips, effectively shushing him. He narrowed his eyes.
"Too many questions, right," Rodney murmured around Five's fingertips and Five slid them away. "Sorry. I mean, you understand, right?"
Five nodded.
"But you don't understand at the same time?" Rodney got another nod, and an expression of artful puzzlement. "Oh!" Rodney snapped his fingers next to Five's back, the sound inaudible under the blanket. "You don't understand why?"
Five nodded. He tapped Rodney on the nose.
"Got it in one," Rodney translated smugly, though that feeling only lasted an instant. "Why can't we, um, do what you wanted to, just now? Is that what you mean?"
Five arched an eyebrow, and Rodney wondered if Five could see or feel him blushing again. "Well, yes. Me too." He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. "But it's not safe. If you're...too close to me, my magic could hurt you."
Rodney heard the rumble of Five's chuffing laughter. He opened his eyes to see Five smirking at him. Five pulled Rodney a little closer.
"I don't mean proximity!" Rodney snapped, and then glowered when it just made Five laugh again. "I mean...you know what I mean!"
Five nodded then looked at Rodney quizzically. He pulled his hand away from Rodney's back, and raised it in the air. He closed his fist and then opened it again very quickly, mouthing boom? His expression made it obvious it was a question.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Of course you're not going to blow up if you--" That was as far as he got before Five all but rolled on top of him. Five put his hands on either side of Rodney's head, kissing him like his life depended on it.
Rodney made some kind of inarticulate noise that he barely heard over the renewed pounding of his disloyal heart. His eyes drifted closed, apparently without any command from his brain. This close to him, Five smelled like winter and Kanaan's herbs, and his mouth tasted like wine. Five's tongue was rough as it rasped over Rodney's own, this side of painful, like a cat, and Rodney knew better than to touch Five's teeth, but none of that mattered; Rodney just wanted more of it, wanted everything.
Five's erection was pressed against Rodney's like a heavy, curving line, and it was odd that it wasn't warm but far from unpleasant, and then Five started grinding against him and even with the cloth in between it felt so good that Rodney bucked helplessly in return and moaned unashamedly into Five's mouth.
Five ran his still-cool palm down Rodney's side and slipped it between them, and then his calloused palm gripped Rodney's cock, and the arc of pleasure that sizzled up Rodney's spine was almost as effective as a bucket of ice water in his face.
Rodney turned his head away, and the needy sound that Five made almost undid him, but Rodney managed to ignore it. He grabbed Five's shoulders and pushed and rolled until Rodney was the one on top, and Five's delighted hum only lasted until he realized Rodney wasn't playing. His expression clouded, and the surprised hurt on his face might have broken Rodney's heart, except for how quickly it changed into anger.
Rodney climbed off Five before he could be pushed, wincing at how much the movement hurt, and knelt on the bed. Five left the bed and was standing on the floor so fast Rodney wasn't sure he'd seen him move.
Five hissed, made some vague gesture at Rodney's body then slapped his own chest so violently that Rodney flinched. He did it again when Rodney just stared at him, too miserable and in too much pain to have any facility with comprehension.
"No," Rodney said at last, hoping he'd finally gotten what Five meant. "It's not your decision." He tried to put any kind of force into his voice, but he was sure he just came off as weary and sad. "You could die, do you understand that? Do you think I want that on my conscience?"
Five's snarl was eloquent. He slapped his chest again, so hard Rodney could hear the hollow thump and winced on behalf of Five's sternum. Then Five tapped the side of his head with his fingertips. Rodney was glad he wasn't so pissed off he'd forgotten his claws.
"I know full well that you're a sentient being capable of choosing your own destiny," Rodney said with deliberate care. He was sure Five's thought hadn't been nearly that elaborate, but the idea was the same. "That's not the point! The point is that I don't want you to die! Mages are forbidden to--to be with people for a reason. Don't you get it?"
Rodney got a sharp, scowling nod in response, along with slitted yellow eyes. Five gestured sharply at his own body and then crossed his arms, as if daring Rodney to disagree with him.
"You think this is because of how you look?" Rodney demanded, so incredulous that his voice squeaked. "Are you insane? Were you not actually present for the mutual kissing and the--and the everything else? How could you possibly...what?"
Five was shaking his head, rolling his eyes so hard he had to be giving himself a headache. When he was finally satisfied that Rodney had stopped talking, he gestured at himself again, slower and with obvious deliberation. He showed his claws, bared his dangerously sharp teeth and then finally tapped the mark on his neck.
Rodney gaped at him. "You're saying what was done to you makes you exempt?"
Five gave him a firm, angry nod.
Rodney put his hands over his eyes. "No," he said. He shook his head without moving his hands. "No. No, I'm sorry. It doesn't work like that. It has nothing to do with you." He lowered his hands so he could look at Five again. "That's what you're not getting. This has nothing to do with you. This has to do with me, and the fact I'm a mage. It doesn't matter how...blue your skin is or how fast you heal or anything like that. The only thing that matters is how I feel about you."
Five's eyes widened until they looked like coins in the light from the sconces on the walls, and this time there was no veneer of anger to hide the clear hurt on his face. Five's jaw worked, as if he were holding back words he couldn't say. And then his face took on that awful blankness again. He snatched his tunic and belt off the floor then walked away, not even bothering to put them on.
"Wait, wait!" Rodney cried. He tried to scramble off the bed, but the pain kept him from moving fast enough, and Five was already disappearing into the shadows at the far end of the room. "I didn't mean it like that! That's not what I meant! I meant that it matters how I feel about you because--because...
"Because I care about you too much," Rodney finished softly, knowing Five was already gone. He hung his head. "I already care about you too much."
He'd been in the infirmary for twelve days after he killed Radek, balanced between life and death for three.
After Five had left, Rodney lay awake until the torches guttered out and the first light of dawn had begun to chase the shadows in the large room. He'd finally fallen asleep only to be woken by an apologetic Carson bustling in to check his wounds again. But he'd brought Rodney breakfast and medicine for pain and a sleep shirt, so Rodney found it difficult to be truly irritated with him. Besides, he didn't have the energy for it.
Rodney had come awake ravenous, so he was more than a little disappointed to see nothing on the platter besides a bowl of oatmeal, a single honey cake with butter (which was a clear indication of how much weight Rodney had lost, since Carson had included it at all) and a drinking bowl of ordinary tea.
"Your stomach needs simple food right now," Carson explained as Rodney had glared down at the disappointment of his breakfast. "We could barely get enough broth down your throat to prevent dehydration, and your poor stomach is probably the size of a pea." He nodded at the oatmeal. "I only want you to eat until you're full as it is, so as to not overwhelm your digestion."
"I'm not a pig, Carson," Rodney groused, a little affronted.
Carson just rolled his eyes. "I never thought you were. But I know you're starving--literally!--and you'll be tempted to eat too much and too fast, and I don't want you spewing all over my infirmary."
"Oh, thanks for that lovely image," Rodney snorted, but he obediently started spooning up the oatmeal, so hungry that the texture and blandness barely bothered him. And then he'd finally remembered to ask Carson how long he'd been sick and then dropped the spoon in horrified amazement.
"You can't be serious," he said, voice distant with shock. "What have I missed? The Wraith!--Gods above, are they at the city walls?"
"Calm down, Rodney!" Carson said. "No, the Wraith are not on our bloody doorstep!" He lowered his voice. "Things are...a wee bit more dire than they were, granted, but there's no need for panic. You'll just make yourself sick again."
Carson insisted he didn't know the answer to any of Rodney's myriad of questions either, so eventually Rodney had grudgingly given up the fight and gone back to eating the oatmeal, which was now cold on top of everything else.
Rodney was still eating when the members of the queen's inner court had come in, grim and somber. Ronon and Lorne had found stools in the infirmary for everyone and arranged them in a semi-circle around Rodney's bed.
Rodney was both grateful and flattered that they'd come to the infirmary so he could be included in this latest tactical discussion, but he'd never been so glad to be wearing clothing, even if it was just the sleep shirt Carson had brought him. Even though he was still half-covered by the thick blanket, he would have felt humiliated to have his naked, symbol-covered chest on display for everyone to see, no matter that everyone there had most likely already received an eyeful of his bare skin at some point. He just wished he could do something about the symbols on his face, and was glad that there were none of the members of the outer court there to see it.
Carson led in Elizabeth, discretely guiding her by the elbow, and the oatmeal suddenly felt like lead in Rodney's stomach. She was wearing one of her heaviest gowns with a hem that touched the floor, and a mantlet overtop it that covered her shoulders and upper arms. Rodney was certain it had actually been chosen to hide the skin of her neck and chest that the gown didn't. Her face was mostly still flesh and blood, but one of her eyes was an iris of overlapping metal behind a glass lens, and a mass of wires bounced among the locks of hair on her head. Carson helped her sit, and she clasped her jointed copper hands in her lap. They looked like mechanical spiders.
"Hello, Rodney," she said, and her sweet, hopeful smile was heartbreaking. Her golem eye whirred as she focused on him, and Rodney had to steel himself before he took her hand. It felt just like Radek's skin had, and Rodney knew he was going to have to kill her and probably soon, and he was so sick with the thought of it that Carson's eyes widened and he demanded if Rodney was all right.
"I'm fine," Rodney said quickly, but he hardly felt it. He swallowed thickly, too upset to even mind how his eyes were burning yet again. "I'm sorry," he said, and he had to force the words out. He'd hoped to have time alone with Elizabeth, somehow, so he could acknowledge what he'd done. But he knew, horribly, as he looked at her that this would most likely be the only chance he had. "I'm so sorry." The words were grossly, completely inadequate, but they were the only things he could think of to say. "I tried...I never wanted to hurt Radek." His throat hurt, and he had to wipe his eyes. "I'm so sorry."
He felt the alien smoothness of Elizabeth's metal fingers on his arm. He could only make himself look at her good eye. It was bright and sad, but Elizabeth had never seemed more regal.
"You exercised the only option you had to save my city," she said. "I am content." She held his eyes with the one that remained to her until Rodney nodded.
"Thank you, my Queen," he said, and was gratified with the tiny curve of her answering smile.
Her blood-warm copper fingers lifted from his arm, and Rodney went back to his steadily congealing oatmeal, thankful at least for the distraction. He took another halfhearted spoonful and then nearly spewed it all over the blanket when Five dropped down from the ceiling to land in a crouch next to Rodney's bed.
"Souls in hell! Don't do that! There's a pregnant woman here!" Rodney snapped, angry with the unwelcome rush of surprise. "What is wrong with you?" he demanded, then realized that after Five's visit last night, asking what was wrong with him was probably just about the worst thing Rodney could have done.
Five just gave him an impassive stare in return, and then went to sit next to Teyla. He casually dropped cross-legged to the floor and put his clawed hands like a net in his lap. He leaned his head pointedly on Teyla's thigh, and glared at Rodney so expressively that even Lorne looked askance at the two of them. Teyla for her part blinked down at his wolfen mop of hair, and then looked bemusedly at Rodney, as if he was meant to have some idea of what the crazy lizard-Shield was doing. Rodney didn't scowl back at her only because she was pregnant.
"Thank you for joining us," Elizabeth said to Five, and he immediately straightened, looking intent and alert. She shifted slowly on her stool so she could address everyone. "This meeting is partially to keep Rodney abreast of our plans,"--she cast him a quick smile as she spoke--"and because the most recent scouting mission indicated that the Wraith were moving again."
Rodney gasped. He threw an accusing stare at Carson, because Carson could have said as much instead of saving this as an awful surprise. Carson just looked pained.
"The eastern forces have met with the northern ones at the forest," Ronon said before Rodney could ask. "It's only a matter of time before they start the attack on the city."
"Souls in hell," Rodney breathed. "How long do we have?" he asked Ronon.
Ronon shrugged. "Hard to tell. Augury is always difficult when you're dealing with demons and the like. It looks like four days, but my guess would be as little as two." He glanced at Five, who nodded.
"Two days?" Rodney pressed his hands to the sides of his head. "And you've left me lolling around in bed all this time? I should've been warding the castle, enchanting weapons--did anyone even glance at the plans for the catapults I designed?" He looked at Teyla. "What about the West Road? Has anyone actually gotten out of the city?" He squeezed his eyes shut. He felt crazily as if his skull would burst. He glowered at Carson, baring his teeth like Five. "How could you have kept me here?"
"Because not only would you have been useless to us until yesterday, if we had removed you from this place earlier it would have meant your death!" Teyla snapped in response, her eyes flashing.
"You'll be out of bed far too soon for my liking as it is!" Carson added. He had his arms crossed and was glaring almost as fiercely as Teyla. "Are you so stupid that you really think you'd've done us a cursed bit of good, lying there out of your mind with fever? Not to mention that you almost died even with the best care we could give you!"
Rodney covered his eyes with his hands for a moment, collecting himself. "You're right. I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just worried." Terrified was far more accurate, but he didn't want to admit that. He could only hope that they didn't neglect planning for the siege in favor of looking after him. "I didn't know I'd...been unaware for so long. I didn't expect to wake up this morning and find out we'll all be dead in two days!"
Five snorted, and when Rodney looked at him he rolled his eyes.
"We're all worried, Rodney," Elizabeth said diplomatically. She sent Five a warning glance, and he shifted uncomfortably. "But it's just as likely that we have four more days to prepare, not two. And we'd be more than happy to let you know what we've been doing to protect our city, if you'll give us a chance to tell you." She smiled warmly, which looked ghastly in her half-human face, but Rodney didn't miss her point all the same.
"So shut up and let us talk," Ronon said. He ignored the reproachful look Teyla gave him.
Rodney nodded miserably. "Sure. Go ahead."
He listened, and Teyla told him about the escape plans and how hundreds of people had already left the city, protected by the new road that had been built under warding the way she and Rodney had discussed. The only addition was that once the road was finished the most powerful wizards they could spare had made the confusion spell permanent. That meant the part of the road that went around the forest was impossible to find unless you were already on it, which was good for the city dwellers and excellent against the Wraith, though she agreed with Rodney that when the Wraith moved out of the forest they were likely to end up finding the road eventually anyway. But most of the city was already empty, leaving only those unwilling or unable to travel, and those who had already sworn to fight. Most of the people who could use magic had gone as well, as soon as they were no longer required to help build or hide the road or enchant armaments. Rodney had expected that, but it angered him to hear it all the same.
Ronon told him about training the watch volunteers, which was going as well as could be expected considering they were mostly barely out of childhood and green as spring leaves. Lorne said he was sure they'd panic and run as soon as they got a good look at the enemy. Privately, Rodney agreed with him.
"Can we enchant them to bolster their fortitude?" Elizabeth asked them.
"Sure," Rodney said, "If I had at least ten mages who wouldn't mind bleeding dry for the privilege." Elizabeth's attention snapped to him. Rodney tried to look resolute. "Or I could use the chair."
"I said no, Rodney," Elizabeth said with stark finality. Only her human eye could look angry, but it certainly did. "No one is going in the chair. It's not up for discussion."
"You're making a decision that could cost all of us our lives, Elizabeth," Rodney said, but he wasn't looking at her when he spoke. He was looking at Teyla, who would most likely be Regent in a matter of hours. She had her hands on her abdomen as if she could protect her son from the evils of the world by will alone, and she nodded just enough for Rodney to see it.
Rodney glanced at Five, who had of course been silently listening. He looked terribly sad, for no reason Rodney could think of.
Lorne cleared his throat and started talking about the catapults, which regained everyone's attention. It turned out Peter Grodin had followed Rodney's designs to the last detail. They'd made smaller models to practice with, pitching huge balls of burning tar into the ocean, and the practice engines had worked so well that they'd been dismantled and remade on the castle's parapets as added defense. Rodney didn't even try not to feel smug when even Five gave him a grudging nod in acknowledgment his genius.
Between the catapults and the road, Rodney was feeling a little more hopeful than when the meeting had started. Right up until Elizabeth stood and said, "Before we adjourn, I have an announcement."
Rodney knew what was coming, had been expecting it for weeks, but that did nothing to quiet the dread twisting his guts. He made two fists around the edge of the blanket.
"As of this moment, I am turning my sovereign power as Queen over to Teyla Emmagan-Teghan, who will serve as Regent. Since there are no members directly of my bloodline able to take on these duties, if I am not able to reclaim the throne, Teyla shall be proclaimed Queen of Pegasus." Elizabeth's voice was powerful and calm, as regal as Rodney had ever heard her, but even he noticed how her metal hands trembled, and the mist gathered in her one remaining eye. "I've already signed the official documents and had them magically sealed, but I wanted you all to stand witness."
Teyla stood and curtseyed as best she could. "I accept this burden with a heavy heart, my Queen," she said. "But know I will rule in your name only, and do my utmost to act in all ways that will merit this honor you have bestowed upon me."
"Thank you, Teyla," Elizabeth said. She inclined her head in recognition of Teyla's words, and then began walking. "Come with me, please," she said to her. "We have much to discuss."
"Of course," Teyla said. They were the first to leave the infirmary, each walking carefully and slow. Lorne and Ronon followed at a discrete distance, but they were close enough to intervene should the worst happen to Elizabeth immediately.
Carson let out a deep, mournful sigh, and the smile he gave Rodney was limp and wan. "I expect you'll be needing some rest after all that excitement," he said. "And don't even try to protest," he added as soon as Rodney opened his mouth to do just that. "You think I can't see how much effort it's costing you just to sit up right now?" He shook his head. "If you want to be any benefit to us at all when the Wraith come, you'll stay right there and sleep, understand? Or I swear I will fix you to the bed again."
"That was you?" Rodney asked incredulously. He didn't want to admit it, but Carson was right. All he'd done was sit up and have a mild panic attack at a meeting and he was already so exhausted it felt like he'd spent the whole morning running. He carded a trembling hand through the hair at his temples, grimacing that the skin was wet.
"Aye, it was me!" Carson said, sounding insulted. "You think you're the only one capable of holding someone still?"
"No," Rodney said quickly. "I just..." He shrugged. "I was wondering if I dreamed it."
"Oh," Carson said. His expression changed instantly to chagrin. "I'm sorry. I should have thought that you wouldn't be able to remember." He leaned over and patted Rodney on the hand. "I promise I'll let you out of here tomorrow, though it can only be for a short time. I know how eager you are to do something, but the greatest good you can do right now is to let yourself rest, so we can count on you when it's most needed."
"Yes, Carson," Rodney said wearily. The worst part was that he knew he wouldn't be able to make it to the door if he tried, and he really wasn't interested in collapsing on the cold stone floor in nothing but a nightshirt. "I'm disgusting, though," he said, trying to ignore how petulant he sounded. "I need a bath."
Carson shook his head and gave a sigh of the truly put-upon, but he chanted a few lines under his breath, moved his hands in a couple of arcane gestures and then clapped loudly. "There. You're as clean as I can make you. Will you sleep now?"
Rodney frowned and ran his fingers through his hair experimentally, only to grin at how soft it was, very obviously clean. He quickly sniffed under his armpit. "Just checking!" he defended when Carson smirked at him. "Yes, I'll sleep, Carson," Rodney told him grudgingly. "Oh--and thank you." Rodney smiled self-consciously, thinking how this was someone else he could never hope to repay. "Um, thank you for everything."
"My pleasure," Carson said. He smiled affectionately and patted Rodney's hand again. "I'll be back later with the midday meal."
Rodney nodded and lifted a hand in goodbye. He closed his eyes and was all set to try for sleep when he felt someone climbing onto the bed.
Rodney cracked his eyes open. "I thought you weren't speaking to me."
Five shrugged. His expression was still unreadable, but he arranged himself cross-legged as if he intended to stay. Rodney watched him curiously as Five reached into his belt pouch. He managed to snag a pair of tin snips then carefully tossed them in Rodney's direction. They landed next to his hip on the bed.
Rodney looked at the snips, then at Five. "Are these mine?" he asked. He picked them up, looking for blood, but if they were his they'd been scrupulously cleaned. "Are these mine?" he asked again.
Five nodded.
"Oh," Rodney said. "Okay. Um, thanks." He fiddled uncomfortably with the handle. "Um, not to sound ungrateful, but why did you--"
Five held out his hand, fingers open so Rodney could see his claws.
"You still want me to cut them?"
He'd expected another eye roll or some other sarcastic reply, but Five just nodded seriously.
"Sure," Rodney said on a breath. When he'd thought about doing this he'd never imagined he'd feel so nervous about it. He held out his hand for Five's, but they were too far apart. "You'll have to sit beside me," Rodney said, feeling bizarrely shy. "I think that will be the easiest way to do this."
They both shifted until Five was sitting on top of the blanket with his back against the wall, Rodney sitting with his body underneath it. Only their shoulders were touching.
"Hang on..." Rodney considered for a moment, and then held onto Five's hand palm-down, as if he were cutting his own nails. He started with the thumb. "I don't want to accidentally slice your finger," he explained as he settled the snips glacially slowly around the claw. Five nodded. He stayed completely still.
It took about as much effort as Rodney had anticipated, but finally the claw severed from the base with a snap, shooting away to clatter somewhere on the floor. Five chuffed, and Rodney found himself smiling too.
"Ready for the next one?" Rodney asked. Five nodded. "Good. Watch your eyes."
The other four claws were smaller, which made them slightly easier to cut. Five did nothing but breathe and hold his hand in the positions Rodney wanted, but it still felt astonishingly intimate.
"I noticed you didn't say much during the meeting," Rodney said as he repositioned the snips. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Five shrugged with his opposite shoulder. "I don't know what that means," Rodney said, but went on before Five might try to explain. "Is it hard, not being able to speak?" Rodney smirked, but it was humorless. "I think I'd go crazy."
Five didn't respond for long enough that Rodney started feeling uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," he said, sighing. "I keep saying things that upset you. I don't mean to do that." He repositioned Five's hand. "Here's the last one," he said quietly as he closed the snips around the claw on Five's little finger. "Of course it's hard not to speak. You probably hate it. You must hate it. It's just..." Rodney shrugged and then dropped his hands onto his thighs. He was still holding Five's hand, their fingers casually intertwined. "It's so easy to understand you, most of the time. I keep forgetting that not everyone can do that. Or that there are probably loads of things you want to say but you can't, because you need words for it and you can't make any."
Five folded his fingers around Rodney's hand. When Rodney looked at him, Five was staring stonily at the other side of the room, but his hand was gripping Rodney's almost but not quite hard enough to hurt.
"Yeah, that's what I figured," Rodney said. He looked down at Five's hand, fascinated by how the unnatural color contrasted with his own far-too normal pale skin. "I wish you could tell me what happened to you. I keep thinking that I could fix this, if I knew what happened."
Five shook his head.
Rodney sighed. He didn't know if Five meant that he couldn't tell him, or that he wouldn't, or that even if Rodney knew it wouldn't make a difference anyway.
Five let his hand go and moved around so he could give Rodney his other hand. Rodney started with the thumb again. "Is this all right, by the way? Cutting them this short?" It was a little too late to ask if Five really wasn't happy with it, but Five just nodded. He seemed to be very much in his own world, and Rodney had rarely wished for something more than he did for Five to be able to truly speak to him.
"I wish you could tell me what you're thinking," he said, just before he cut through the thumb claw. It shot away somewhere, and Rodney belatedly realized that someone might step on it. "You'll have to pick the pieces up, so no one accidentally gets stabbed in the foot," he said to Five, who nodded absently.
Rodney was certain that Five would ignore everything else Rodney had just said to him, because he was silent and unmoving until Rodney finished with the last claw.
"All done. What do you think?" Rodney asked.
Five looked at his hands, turning them then examining the snubbed wedges where his claws used to be. He reached out and gently ran the very tips of his fingers down the triangle of Rodney's chest that was visible through the nightshirt. Rodney shivered.
"The nail stubs are kind of rough, but it doesn't hurt," Rodney said.
Five nodded, apparently satisfied, but then he abruptly slid off the bed onto the floor.
"We're done? What about your feet?" Rodney asked, feeling perplexed and abandoned. "You're still clicking all over the place."
Five didn't leave, though. He held out his hand in an obvious request.
"Oh, you want me to get up?" Rodney asked. He smiled apologetically. "Don't get me wrong--I really, really would like to, but I don't think I can." He held out his hand as illustration. It was trembling almost violently. "I'm weaker than a baby. That's just from cutting ten claws."
Five's lips pursed as he considered something, and then he leaned down, grabbed Rodney under the arms and dragged him off the bed.
"Hey! What are you doing?" Rodney yelped. The nightshirt Carson had given him was light wool, and Atlantis had kept the infirmary warm, but Rodney couldn't help shivering at suddenly being out of the very warm bed.
Of course Five didn't answer, but he adjusted his grip on Rodney and scooped him into his arms before Rodney's legs could give out on him. Rodney reflexively wrapped his arms around Five's neck.
"Well, this is embarrassing," Rodney tried to say casually. "I appreciate the help, but I really don't...where are we going?" He'd been sure Five had suddenly decided to help Rodney get to the bathroom, but instead he carried him to a different part of the infirmary, where there were two large windows, one near either end of the long wall. Five gently set Rodney on his feet but didn't let go of him. He kept Rodney wrapped firmly in his arms and tightened his hold when Rodney wobbled.
"The floor is cold. You're cold," Rodney complained. It was true, though distressingly it didn't serve as any kind of distraction from the fact that he was standing pretty much plastered against Five, more than close enough to feel the anemic heat from his body and inhale the odd but compelling scent of his skin. "We really shouldn't be doing this," he said, but Five as usual just ignored him.
Five was looking out the window. The infirmary was at ground level, just like the kitchen, so the view didn't offer anything more than the inner bailey, which had been turned into a mess of dirty, trampled snow, and the opposite side of the castle beyond. But when Rodney looked up he could see a piece of the sky. Today it was a clear blue, bright in the sunshine that gilded the castle walls and glittered on the untouched snow on the turrets and parapets.
Five had his eyes fastened on the sky.
Rodney saw what he was doing and looked up as well, but there was nothing he could see but the sky, unmarred by so much as a wisp of cloud. "What is it? What do you see?" he asked. "What am I meant to be looking at?"
Five let go of him long enough to point mutely upward.
"The sky?" Rodney asked. He looked at Five, confused. "I don't see anything. What's in the sky?"
Five turned to look at him, waiting until he seemed certain Rodney was paying attention. Then he tapped the middle of his chest with two of his newly-shorn fingers and then pointed deliberately at the sky. He kept his eyes on Rodney, as if willing him to understand.
"You and the sky?" Rodney asked, but Five's serious, hopeful nod didn't help. "You...want the sky?"
Five nodded again. He kept pointing at the sky, his entire body straining up.
"You want that," Rodney said, understanding, and Five's firm nod and pleased smile told Rodney he was right.
Five pulled Rodney close to him, folding his arms around Rodney's middle so that his chest was against Rodney's back. He put his chin on Rodney's shoulder and they stood there, looking at the sky together.
It was petty and unfair of him to want Five to stay with him when Rodney couldn't have an actual relationship, Rodney knew that. But that didn't change the fact that Five had just told him that what he wanted most was his freedom.
"Like a bird," Rodney murmured, and Five squeezed him just a little tighter, as if in confirmation. "I understand."
He did, but that didn't make him feel any less bleak or hopeless, knowing that what he'd thought was right. Five really did have no reason to stay with him, and Rodney certainly had no right to even ask.
Rodney cleared his throat. "We should...I mean, do you want me to cut the claws on your feet?"
Five made his unique chuffing sound and lifted Rodney into his arms again to bring him back to bed, and Rodney told himself fiercely that it was far better if Five left anyway. Far better for both of them.
Part Five: The Queen of Ashes
"No! Come on! I learned this spell when I was three! Mothers teach this protection spell to their babies because it's so simple even a barely-verbal toddler could get it! It's two words!" Rodney broke off in disgust. He turned away from the abject moron of a watchman--watchboy, actually, and how in all the hells could he have made it this far without knowing the three basic warding spells was beyond Rodney's capacity to understand--and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He cleaned his palm on his surcoat in disgust, then just stood there with his hands on his hips, staring out at the opposite end of the bailey and trying to control his angry breathing.
There was either one or three days left before the Wraith came, depending on the accuracy of Ronon's prediction, and he and Teyla were trying to teach the least apt of the recently-formed watch volunteers how to stammer out at least one spell that might prolong their life by a few minutes. On the other side of the bailey, Ronon, Lorne and Five had what looked like the far more satisfying task of beating the tar out of the other volunteers. Rodney smiled thinly to himself as Five used his new fighting sticks to smack around the man sent to spar with him, neatly pummeling the padded leather armor he was wearing to ostensibly protect him from sparring injuries. Rodney was certain Five was pulling his blows, because they couldn't afford to have even one less person on the north wall when the attack came, but even so his opponent was having a rough time of it. While Rodney watched him the idiot managed to tangle his own ankles together and fall hard on his rear in the packed snow. Five immediately stepped back to let him get up. Rodney was certain Teyla had made the fighting sticks Five was wielding, since Lorne and all the other watch were using straight swords with a horizontal guard above the hand. Ronon used a long, curved Satedan fighting sword, but Five's fighting style reminded Rodney very much of Teyla, though there was an element of wildness in Five's movements that Rodney knew Teyla would never allow. Maybe it was because Five wasn't human, but his quick, vicious strikes made Rodney think of a clawing cat, or a riled snake biting again and again. But Five was still waiting for the idiot who'd tripped, just flourishing the sticks in his hands instead of attacking. He wasn't even breathing hard.
"Rodney," Teyla said as she came up beside him. Her voice was gentle but Rodney could still hear the rebuke in it.
"Did your people teach him that?" Rodney asked, jutting his chin in Five's direction. "I thought only the Athosians did stick fighting like that."
"There are some lands which border ours who have adopted a similar style," Teyla said. The fight had started again, with Five moving much more slowly this time, giving his opponent ample opportunities to hit him. "He fights well," Teyla said. She put her hand on Rodney's shoulder. "Why don't you go watch them?"
"Right, because that would be an exceptionally useful way of spending my time when the Wraith are going to come screaming out of the forest any day now!" Rodney snapped. He gestured angrily behind him. "These idiot children can't master a simple protection spell and they're meant to go up against Wraith?" He shook his head. "I'm going to stay here as long as it takes to drill at least one spell into their heads. Otherwise we might as well just kill them all now--we'll be sending them to slaughter anyway!"
"Rodney!" Teyla hissed. "You must not say such things!" She glanced over her shoulder at the motley collection of volunteers so Rodney did as well, but either they hadn't heard him ranting or were pretending they hadn't, because they were all still practicing hopelessly or standing around looking nervous. She leaned in close to him. "Your behavior is frightening them, which will not help them learn, and I can see very well that you are exhausted--you are sweating from exertion despite the cold, and you are nearly as grey as your surcoat. Remember that Carson wanted you to have more rest. I think you should go warm yourself in the kitchen and have something to eat, but if you will not do that then you must at least stop trying to teach them."
Rodney opened his mouth to argue, but he saw the set expression on Teyla's face and just blew out mist into the icy air. "What about you?" he asked, gesturing at her. She'd been increasingly reminding him of a galleon in full sail, not that he'd ever even suggest such a thing.
"I am fine, Rodney," Teyla said. She rubbed her ample stomach as if in emphasis. "The crisp, fresh air is invigorating and my child is keeping me warm." She smiled at him. "I promise that I will go inside when I'm tired, but I am not tired yet."
Rodney nodded stiffly. "I don't like feeling useless," he said.
Teyla snorted, which was so unlike her that Rodney blinked. "I would cuff your head for that, if there weren't children behind me," she said. Her expression became fierce. "You must be strong enough to fight when the time comes, which means that today you must rest." She pointed at the entrance to the kitchen, as imperiously as the Regent she now was. "Go."
"Fine," Rodney snarled, far more irritated at himself than Teyla or the situation. He stalked across the bailey, heading toward the kitchen. He was also angry at himself at how much he was looking forward to being in the warmth. His sweat was clammy, not from heat, and he might as well have been naked for how much warmth his clothes were giving him. His thigh and shoulder had started a slow, dull ache in the cold as well. He felt as battered and gnarled as an old fishmonger.
He was disgustedly plucking his damp tunic away from his chest when he saw the large shadow slide across the packed snow and up the wall in front of him.
"Rodney! Get down!" Ronon bellowed at almost the same moment, and then suddenly something clipped Rodney so hard in the back of his knees that he upended like a toy, landing heavily on his back to stare stunned up at the dazzling blue sky. For half an instant he thought the white shape above him was a cloud, and then it vomited a column of flame which struck the ground where Rodney would have been, so hot it melted the ice and snow instantly and then blackened the earth underneath. The fire was close enough that Rodney could feel it reddening his skin and singeing the tiny hairs on the backs of his exposed hands.
"Wyvern," he gasped, staring up at it. It was white as a perfect snowfall, with a long, undulating body. It had white legs like a rooster, with talons Rodney knew could snatch a full-grown man up and tear him in half. It had no forelegs, instead a pair of leathern wings jutted from its back, so powerful that Rodney could feel the frigid rush of air as it flew. Its head was long, filled with teeth each sharp as shards of glass, and a boney spine like knife blades sticking into the air. It was large enough that its wings seemed to blot out the sky, and it was breathing death down on them.
"Inside! Inside now!" Lorne was shouting at the volunteers, and Rodney could only hope they were listening. He was sure he could hear Teyla singing as he scrambled to his hands and knees, but couldn't spare the time to look. His knee hit something painfully hard, and he was looking stupidly at Ronon's practice sword before he realized that Ronon must have thrown it to knock Rodney down, saving his life again. He opened his sheathe and grabbed his knife. It was the first thing he'd put in his belt when Carson had allowed him back to his rooms that morning.
Still on his knees, Rodney gritted his teeth and cut his arm again. The line he'd made for the teleport had long-since healed, and he cut into the skin beside it on the side of his arm. He made it long and deep, knowing he would owe a great deal before this day was over.
He cast the most powerful ward against fire that he knew as the wyvern inhaled and let loose another jet of flame. He couldn't tell if the beast had a rider or not, but it was well aimed--not at the people in the bailey but at the nearby roofs, which were made of wood shingled with clay and were the only part of the castle that would burn. And if they did, they would fall on the people inside.
Rodney cursed and cast an extinguishing spell as the flames hit, since he'd been concentrating on protecting everyone outside the buildings and not the buildings themselves. He wasn't sure yet what spell Teyla was spinning with her voice, but he trusted her not to do anything that would counter his. He just hated that she was using magic at all.
Two arrows were suddenly quivering in the wyvern's snake of a neck, planted so quickly it looked like they'd been conjured, and Rodney glanced in Ronon's direction to see him readying another arrow and shooting almost in the same movement. Rodney couldn't see Five. The wyvern screeched in pain and rage as Ronon's third arrow hit it in the chest, and then the monster dove towards him.
Ronon stood his ground, aiming carefully, and Rodney cast another protection spell, this one for him alone. Except the wyvern veered away at the last moment as if it had suddenly lost sight of its prey, changing course so quickly that the arrow missed. The wyvern screeched and circled in the sky before it came back at them.
That was Teyla's spell, Rodney knew. He looked to where he thought she would be and saw her standing with her hands resting on her belly and her face serene as she sang the wyvern's confusion. For a moment Rodney envied her so sharply he ached.
All of the volunteers were gone, following Lorne inside, and Rodney was grateful he'd rescued the brats and codgers. And then Rodney heard the more distant clamor of armor and swords and the cries of the soldiers on the north wall as they began to fight. Over that was the whoosh of the catapults as they flung burning pitch into the air, and Rodney spared a grin for Peter and a fervent hope that he would survive this, if any of them did.
The Wraith had come.
The wyvern breathed more fire, this one aimed at the bailey and everyone still in it, and Rodney reinforced the protection spell too make certain it would hold, then huddled with his arms wrapped over his head as he heard and felt the fire roaring all around him. It was like being in hell. Even with the aid of his magic Rodney felt the heat of the wyvern's flames licking over his skin until it seemed like his blood would boil and he could barely breathe. When the firestorm had finally ended Rodney dropped to all fours on the charred ground, shivering violently in the sudden change of temperature, new sweat beading on his skin to replace what had evaporated in the heat. There were blisters on the back of his arms.
"Rodney! Roll on the ground!" He looked up blearily. Teyla was kneeling next to him, slapping at his back, and he dimly realized part of his tunic was burning. He cried out in shock and dropped to his side, then rolled onto his back, hoping to smother the flames. Teyla nodded, breathing in relief.
"Where's the wyvern?" Rodney stared up the sky, but he couldn't see it.
Teyla pointed. It was circling again.
"Souls in hell." Rodney put his fingers on the cut in his arm, but Teyla grabbed his wrist before he could dig his fingertips in.
"Look!"
Five had climbed to the conical of the parapet, clinging there like an insect. When the wyvern drew near he leapt away from the roof and onto the creature's back.
The wyvern screeched in fury and tossed its head, and Rodney desperately started murmuring the words to another protection spell, sure Five was about to be thrown to his death, but the wyvern was riddled with Ronon's arrows, and Five managed to grab one of them for balance then wrap a hand around a boney spine and hold on. He pulled a long knife from a sheath in his belt and stabbed it into the wyvern's neck.
Teyla and Rodney were still on their knees, both of them gaping up at the sky. Teyla grabbed Rodney's hand and held it tightly, watching as Five yanked his knife out and stabbed the beast again. Blood as white as milk sprayed out, and Rodney could hear it sizzling wherever it hit Five's skin.
Rodney searched the bailey with his eyes, looking for Ronon, and found him in a far corner. Half his tunic had blackened with fire, but he was still aiming his longbow at the wyvern, so Rodney hoped that meant he was all right. As the wyvern thrashed Ronon released the last arrow from his quiver, and it shot right into the deep, jagged gash Five had made with his knife.
Without the wyvern's heavy scales protecting it, the arrow pierced right through. The wyvern's head snapped back and a geyser of fire and boiling white blood burst from its mouth. It fell, crashing into the roof of one of the gallery walks on the curtain wall surrounding the bailey, smashing clean through to the gallery before tumbling out limp and broken, to land in the bailey like a sack of grain.
"Five!" Rodney and Teyla helped each other to their feet, and Rodney lurched towards the dead wyvern. "Where is he?" he demanded of Teyla, who just shook her head. "Did you see him get away?"
Ronon trotted over to them as well, and up close it was easy to see that he'd been badly scorched on his left side, to the extent that his tunic was flapping in blackened tatters from under his arm to his belt. His left arm was badly burned, as was most of his left side, and for an instant Rodney could smell his burned hair before the sour stench of hot acid overwhelmed everything else.
He gave them a quick nod, which Rodney returned, all the time they could spare to recognize that they were essentially all right.
"Did you see Five?" he asked, but Ronon just gave a quick shake of his head. His face was blistered as well, and Rodney promised himself he'd cast a healing spell on him the instant he had time for it.
The wyvern's mouth was open, baring its white teeth and lolling white tongue. Its one visible eye seemed to be fixed on Rodney even in death, and Rodney had to force himself to touch the wyvern on the remote chance it was still alive. The sour stench of its blood and the give of its still-warm skin were sickening.
"Five!" he hollered, trying to pick his way around the wyvern and the debris while not stepping into the quickly-pooling acid the creature had by way of blood. He didn't know how much of it had hit Five when he'd been stabbing the creature; he didn't know if Five could heal from the kind of burns that would cause. "Come on! Five, where are you?" Ronon and Teyla were calling as well, though Ronon's voice sounded worryingly weak. Rodney glanced back at them and was glad to see that Teyla hadn't tried to follow.
Something clunked to the charred earth of the bailey, and then something else, and then Rodney looked up at the remains of the gallery walk to see Five struggling to push himself out of a pile of chiseled stone bricks and splintered wood.
"Five!" Rodney hesitated, grimacing, then clambered onto the body of the wyvern. The creature was wider than it was long, and even dead the hump of its back put Rodney almost even with the gallery walk, even though it was on top of the curtain wall. It felt like he was trying to climb a slippery hill that gave disgustingly under each of his steps, and he knew that if he fell on one of the spines he'd likely slice himself in half. But he was far more worried about Five, who had somehow ended up on the still-intact portion of the gallery walk's floor, but had what seemed to Rodney like the whole roof pinning him.
"That was an unbelievably stupid thing to do!" he scolded. His head was level with what was left of the gallery walk now, and he grabbed hold of the jagged bricks on the side of the hole the wyvern had made. "Do I actually need to remind you that you can't fly?" He tried to pull himself up to where Five was, but his legs were shaking after the relatively minor effort of climbing the dead wyvern, and his arms felt like calf's foot jelly with Teyla's knitting needles stuck in it. "What if the wyvern had just decided to flap off with you still clinging to it? What then?" Five lifted his upper body so he could look down at Rodney, but the glare Five gave him was lackluster at best. He smelled like wyvern blood. "Are you all right?"
Five nodded, which only meant he was a worse liar than Rodney, as far as Rodney was concerned, but he gestured at where his legs had to be before slapping the floor he was lying on.
"The entire roof fell on you. I know." Rodney said. Five gave him a weary smile.
"Rodney," Teyla said, and there was no mistaking the urgency in her voice. "I can sense Wraith all around us--I fear our soldiers cannot hold the wall."
"Great," Rodney muttered. "I can only deal with one mortal peril at a time, all right?" He wiped his forehead on his shoulder, managing to crack his head against the stone. "Ow! Damn it!" He craned his neck to look up at Five again. "You can't get out?"
Five shook his head.
"Even better," Rodney muttered. If Five wasn't strong enough to move whatever was on him, then Rodney certainly couldn't. "Take my hand!" He released his death grip on the broken wall to reach up as Five reached down, clasping each other's wrists. Half the sleeve of Five's tunic had been dissolved by the wyvern blood, and Rodney could feel the small, oozing pits of burns all over Five's forearm. They were still hot, an alarming contrast to the rest of his skin.
Rodney didn't dare let go of the wall with his other hand, so he angled his forearm to scrape the cut he'd made against the broken bricks. He groaned in pain, ignoring whatever sound Five made in response, and spoke the teleportation spell.
They were both instantly out in the bailey again. Five dropped to the ground, landing hard on his stomach and pulling Rodney down with him. Rodney's shoulder, abdomen and thigh had a lot of bad things to tell him about that, but there was no time to deal with it now. Rodney promised himself he could bitch and moan as much as he liked once this was over, and crawled the short distance between him and Five's body to make sure Five was all right.
Five was already pushing himself to his knees, though his head was hanging and he was panting in obvious pain. His tunic was riddled with acid scores, as was his skin almost everywhere that Rodney looked: small irregularly-shaped burns, lighter than the blue flesh surrounding them.
"Souls in hell," Rodney breathed. He lifted his cut arm to dig his fingers into it so he could perform a healing spell, but a sudden wave of dizziness nearly pitched him sideways to the ground.
"Rodney!" Teyla dropped beside him again, and Rodney really wished she wouldn't do that, worried she'd jar the baby. "Are you all right?"
"No, but I'll live," he said quickly, though he guessed he might look like that was in question. His middle where Radek had kicked him had more-or-less stopped protesting, but the pain in his shoulder and thigh, which he'd been able to ignore during the recent frenzy, was now coming back with a vengeance, and he was sure he wasn't hiding any of it. "It was just the teleportation. I'm fine, Five needs help. You have to heal him."
"No time," Ronon grunted. He used his good hand to fish around inside the collar of his tunic, and pulled out the black amulet bag. He hissed in pain as he pulled it over his head. "Here, give this to him," he said, and tossed it at Rodney. "There's one for healing in it."
"Fat lot of good this did you," Rodney said, furious at himself that the protection amulet he'd made had been barely useful against the wyvern's fire. But he snatched it off the ground anyway and shuffled forward on his knees so he could loop it over Five's head.
Five hissed at Rodney and tried to push it away, of course, nodding his acid-spattered chin at the dripping wound in Rodney's arm. "Shut up," Rodney snapped at him. "Ronon is making this sacrifice for you, and you're going to use it if I have to shove it down your throat. Thank you," he added sarcastically when Five stopped protesting to just gaze balefully instead, his yellow eyes hooded with exhaustion and pain.
"Rodney," Teyla said, and the tightness in her voice had his head whipping around to look at her. The new rush of vertigo that came with it was extremely unpleasant.
Teyla had one hand on her stomach and the other pressed to her forehead, with her eyes tightly closed as if she was in pain. Her face had gone grey. "There are so many--"
"Get her inside!" Rodney ordered Ronon, then, "Wait!" as the big man moved to take Teyla's arm. Cursing to himself, Rodney undid his belt and let it drop to the ground. Then he yanked up his surcoat and tunic until he could feel the bandages around his waist. He stuck his hand beneath the wrapped linen, yelping at the cold, then closed his fingers around a healing amulet and dragged it out. "Here," he said to Ronon, holding it out to him. "I don't need it anymore," he explained when Ronon looked at him doubtfully. "Take it! Just take it! Come on!"
But it was Teyla who finally grabbed it out of Rodney's shaking hand and slapped it into Ronon's. She wrapped his fingers around it, then held his hand in both of hers, fixing his fierce, dark eyes with her own.
"I wish I had time to heal you, my friend, but you are desperately needed at the wall." She leaned up and kissed his lips.
"Yes, my Regent," Ronon said. He looked at Rodney and Five, nodded to them both and then ran for the nearest entrance to the castle. He had a fair way to go before he reached the outer bailey and then the north wall beyond that, but very few people could run faster than Ronon did.
Rodney had no idea how Ronon would even be able to hold his sword, let alone fight with those burns, but he couldn't afford to think about it so he didn't. He also refused to think how most likely he'd never see Ronon again.
Five was finally pulling himself to his feet. He seemed a little stronger. Rodney didn't know if that was because of Ronon's amulets or his own extraordinary healing. Five looked at Teyla, who was his Regent now as much as Elizabeth had been, then pointed in the direction Ronon had gone.
"Yes." Teyla nodded. She stepped forward and kissed him as well. "Gods be with you both."
Five nodded seriously and then looked at Rodney.
"You'll pass the armory on the way," Rodney said. "You'll probably be able to smell it."
Five nodded again. He held out his hand.
Rodney swallowed and then clasped wrists with him, feeling the cold of his skin, the burns marring it and the strength beneath. He wanted to hug him, kiss his cold lips until they warmed, but Rodney was the one who had demanded this distance; Five was only abiding by it.
"So long," Rodney said. And then Five was gone.
Rodney took a deep breath and looked at Teyla. He tried to dredge up a smile. "So," he said, attempting to sound like he wasn't weak and in pain and already grieving and terrified out of his skull, "the chair, eh?"
"Yes," Teyla said. She took his hand and held it tight, and he could taste the tears on her lips when she kissed him.
The tunnels beneath the castle were naturally cool, as far down as they were, so most of the rooms off the twining corridors were for storing food, though at least one room held blocks of ice, carefully insulated under layers of straw.
Rodney was thinking about that as he jogged painfully down the tunnel, mostly because he was feeling ice-cold at the moment and was wishing he could be back in his airy, sunlit rooms, up to his neck in a bath with water so hot that it was nearly scalding. Instead he was limping because his nearly-healed thigh had nonetheless seized up like rusted gears in the cold. His chest was already feeling heavy, and his breath was misting just as much as it had ever done in the frigid outside air. Not that he could see it very well, because the only light this far beneath the castle came from the enchanted crystals in the walls. There were barely enough of them to let Rodney see where he should step next, and the floor was just uneven enough that he'd stumbled painfully more than once.
"You shouldn't be down here. I'm sure all this damp and cold must be bad for the baby," he panted to Teyla, who was walking briskly alongside him. She was keeping up easily because of his limping. Rodney privately thought they must be a ridiculous sight, the two of them: him staggering along and she listing left and right with every sway of her belly. He wiped the clammy sweat off his forehead. "I still think you should have gone with the watch volunteers." They'd passed a shivering, uncertain group of them in the hallway near the entrance to the tunnels. The bravest among them had explained that Major Lorne had told three of them to stay there as guards, and another four to split up and comb the castle for anyone who might not have had the brains to head for the tunnels when the Wraith arrived. Rodney had been in the infirmary fighting for his life when this plan was developed, but he approved of it anyway; at least in as much as anywhere in Atlantis could be considered safe once the Wraith got in.
There were branching tunnels that had obviously been created expressly for the purpose of hiding in, with symbols making up concealing spells painted on the magically smoothed stone. Someone would disappear almost as soon as they entered, with not so much as a sound or change in ambient temperature to show they'd even existed. Rodney was certain there were hoards of quivering servants and outer courtiers using the tunnels at that very moment, hiding like mice because they'd been too loyal--or stupid--to leave by the protected West Road when they'd had the chance. It was eerie, knowing there might be people watching him and their regent queen hurrying by, but having no way to be sure of it.
"You should have stayed with the watch," Rodney said again, because Teyla hadn't answered him the first time. "Aboveground, at least." He was finding it increasingly difficult to speak and keep up this pace, slow as it was.
"I'm not cold," Teyla said.
Rodney glanced at her. "It'd be safer, aboveground," he said.
"Nowhere is safe," Teyla answered him.
"I know," Rodney panted. "But you know how dangerous the chair is. I don't want you to be hurt."
He saw Teyla's expression harden. "I am not letting you face this alone."
"I have to!" Rodney said, too breathless to shout. "You're the regent now! Pegasus needs you! Who will lead us if you--if something happens to you?"
"A regent is useless if there is no realm for her to rule," Teyla said flatly. "If the Wraith are not defeated, I will be the queen of ashes and my son will never even draw breath."
Her face was grim and implacable, and Rodney's heart sank. "You can't help me," he said.
"I believe that I can," was Teyla's answer, and Rodney knew that nothing he could say would make her change her mind.
"You might not survive what I need to do," he said. "Radek didn't."
Teyla's smile was rueful. "Better at the unwilling hand of my friend than an eager Wraith." She pointed ahead. "We are here."
Rodney nodded and they both turned down the shorter tunnel that led to the chair room.
Rodney told himself that the chair didn't look any darker or more sinister than it had the last time he was in here, when Five had snuck up and frightened the wits out of him. He tried to hold on to that memory now: Five following him; Five saying without words how he was happy that Rodney was alive; the embrace they had shared and the kissing. But all he could think about was pushing Five away, and how Five had looked when he'd understood what Rodney was doing.
Five being held down in the fire; covered with wyvern blood, his skin burning.
And then all that Rodney could think about was the last time he used the chair. He should have died, and if he had, the Wraith would already be gone. If he'd died, Radek and Elizabeth would still be human. Radek would still be alive.
Rodney stopped an arm's length from the chair, breathing hard from more than just the recent effort. The chair was still silver and dull blue, deceptively beautiful. And it was going to kill him.
Rodney looked at Teyla. "You should leave," he said, trying one last time. It was hard to speak over the banging of his heart. "I don't--I don't know what might happen. I don't want to be responsible for hurting you."
Teyla put her hand on his arm. Her face was very sad. "This was my order. I am the one responsible for hurting you."
Rodney tried to smile, failed. "I'd do it anyway." She wouldn't let go of him until he put his hand over hers on his arm and gently pulled it away. "Um, bye, then," he said.
Teyla just nodded, as if she didn't trust herself to speak. Her eyes were glistening.
Rodney made his feet move, one step then another until he was right next to the chair. It seemed to already glow a little, as if in anticipation. Rodney unsheathed his knife.
"Rodney!" Teyla said, so urgently that he spun to look at her. "Don't do it. Please. Don't bleed for this."
Rodney looked down at the knife, poised over his already bleeding arm, then back at Teyla. "I have to," he said simply, and cut.
He sliced across his wrists this time, because it would allow him to stay alive longer by not bleeding to death too quickly, not because he even hoped to survive this. He tried to avoid the delicate tendons in his wrists all the same, mostly because he couldn't bear to lose the dexterity in his fingers even in death. It was more difficult to cut his right arm, but he managed it even if the result was crooked and inelegant. Nobody counted scars in the underworld.
The last thing he saw before he surrendered himself to the chair was Teyla, how she drew herself up, regal and glorious, just before she started to sing. And then the chair tipped backwards, and Rodney could see nothing but light.
He was warm.
Rodney was warm, and the pain of his injuries was gone, only the slightest edge of it under his skin, like the ache was still there but unable to touch him. He could feel the slow itch of the blood pooling beneath his hands, knew his life was ebbing with it, but it didn't matter. He was surrounded by light, bright and perfect as the heart of the sun. He could feel magic surging around him like water, surging through him like blood. He knew the chair recognized him from before, and he knew it had been waiting for him, to finish what they'd begun together.
This time the Wraith would die, and Rodney would pay what he owed.
Yes, Rodney thought. I know. Help me now and I'll do anything. The sense of affirmation in return was like the laugh of a child.
"I'm going to look at the battle," he said, and he didn't recognize his own voice, wasn't even sure he had spoken aloud. He couldn't see Teyla anymore--not her physical self--but her song sounded like a calm, blue river, and the child cradled in her body was red with her love for him and Rodney laughed to feel how impatient the baby was to be born.
Like your father, Rodney thought, because he knew that it was true, but an instant later Teyla and her baby were forgotten. Rodney whispered the spell for far-viewing, and then he was looking down at the walls of the city, the crooked junction where the north wall met the eastern one.
He had already known that they would lose this fight, but down below what he saw wasn't a battle so much as a massacre. Most of the city had already been evacuated. There had been less than three hundred men and women who had volunteered to stay and defend the walls, with a handful of wizards among them. They were being slaughtered to the last.
There were at least a thousand Wraith, all but trampling each other in their lust to get to their prey. They wore leather armor studded with wyvern claws and decorated with human bones, and facemasks of other creature's skulls. Their hair was white as wyvern teeth, and what skin was left visible was pale greenish-white. The pupils of their malevolent yellow eyes were black slits, like Five's. But Rodney thought it didn't make them look catlike so much as like poisonous snakes. They didn't use swords or knives because they didn't need them.
Rodney watched as the young elementalist, the one who had offered to dig a tunnel with her magic, moved her hands in a quick pattern that heaved up the ground, scattering the Wraith nearest to her like marbles. She was standing on the wall, trying to make use of the stone barrier that rose in front of her almost as high as her eyes, but it made it difficult for her to see what she was doing. The instant she leaned over the side a Wraith grabbed her by the head. She was yanked down before Rodney could think of a spell to help her, tossed into the swarm of Wraith like meat to wolves. He didn't stay to watch the Wraith take her soul.
One of the catapults was on fire. It was blazing like a beacon in the harsh daylight, with ashes and burning timbers falling from it like leaves. Peter was in the outer bailey behind the high city walls, calling orders as the watch fired the remaining large catapult, and then the two small ones that had been carried to sit up on the battlements. The pitch sailed high overhead, crashing in the midst of the seething mass of Wraith, and there were some ragged cheers as Wraith screamed and thrashed and died. But it was like trying to evaporate an ocean, and the watch was running out of ammunition. All the Wraith needed was time.
Ronon was directing the archers, and his voice as he called them to aim and fire rang out into the sky. Ronon had taken more arrows from the armory, and his shot went as far up as the strongest bowman before arcing down on the Wraith. But Rodney could see how his arms were trembling as he pulled the bowstring back, and his tunic was wet with the lymph water leaking from his burns. When a group of Wraith got close enough to put a ladder to the wall Ronon dropped his bow and drew his sword, and his grin was wide and predatory as he stabbed through the leading Wraith before kicking the ladder away. But it was obvious he was exhausted and hurting, and his wounds would be the death of him even if the Wraith weren't.
The healing spell Rodney cast was the most powerful Rodney knew, the one he had only used twice in his life and each time the Recompense had nearly killed him. The first time had been for his sister, when she had played too near to the kitchen fire and almost burned alive. The second had been for Radek, after the chair, but it hadn't worked.
The third time was for Ronon.
Rodney murmured the spell, his fingers automatically moving in the ward signs though he couldn't lift his hands. He felt the spell working, tugging at him with a deadly weariness he couldn't yet feel though he knew it was waiting, and then out on the battlements Ronon fell to his knees.
Ronon gasped. His eyes went wide, his body shaking as strength and health and life rushed back into him. One of the archers dropped her small bow and hurried to his side, to ask in her trembling, anxious voice if he was all right. He was. Oh, how he was.
Rodney watched Ronon's ferocious grin as he climbed easily to his feet and snatched up his sword. Rodney smiled too. Happiness rippled through him like water, like Teyla's song, and he knew this was right and good, that this would be worth his dying.
He went in search of Five.
Five was with Lorne, much farther along the wall, almost where it met the eastern one. They were back to back, swords heavy with Wraith blood and dripping like rain. It was too late here to kick down the ladders anymore, and the Wraith were swarming. Some had leaped off the battlements to the outer bailey below, and were on the ground running towards the castle and the city beyond it. Most were killing the remaining watch. Lorne and Five were almost the only ones left alive.
Rodney murmured more spells to give them strength and endurance. He bolstered Lorne's sword arm and healed the red gouge on his chest where a Wraith had gotten behind his shield but had died before taking his soul. He could see Lorne's head lift, the determination in his grim smile as he rolled his shoulders back before he stabbed a Wraith through the heart.
Five was fighting with an alarming wildness, like a vicious animal finally freed to serve its purpose. He was moving so fast it was hard to focus on any part of him, but even with the spells he'd just cast, Rodney could see that Five was faltering: a slip here when he moved his foot, a sword thrust that ended as a glancing blow instead of a death strike. A few of his acid burns had healed, but the rest seemed to glow like hot coals when Rodney looked at him.
Even cradled in the euphoria of the chair, Rodney's heart convulsed in terror when Five slipped again, then barely managed to dodge out of the way of the Wraith clawing for his heart. Rodney didn't want Five to die. Rodney didn't want anyone to die, but he wanted Five to live so much that the shock of it paralyzed him. When had this ensorcelled, disgraced Shield become as necessary as breathing?
Rodney healed him, using the second-strongest spell he knew, probably more than Five needed to be well again but Rodney didn't care. He was dying for this magic; it was his to use in whatever way he wanted, and he wanted to make sure Five lived.
Rodney laughed to himself when Five's head snapped up, at the feral grin that split the blue skin of Five's cheeks, so vicious it made a Wraith hesitate. Five decapitated it with a single, brutal swing of his sword, barking his awful laugh in triumph as he turned to the next enemy. Rodney could feel Five's gratitude deep as his bones, as if Five knew.
Rodney was so happy, to be able to do this. He was going to save everyone, make up for his failure of before, make up for every failure he'd ever had. He would die here and that was good and right and everything would be fine. This was how they would remember him. He started to speak the words of the last spell he needed.
No. Not so much a word as the sense of a word. Rodney could feel the negation like an impatient, angry child tugging at his hand. His eyes flew open and he was far, far away from the wall, staring up at the chair room's ceiling through a stark tunnel of light.
Teyla's song faltered and then she was looking at him, so close to the chair he could touch her with the tiniest flick of his hand. Her eyes were wide. "Rodney?"
The exhaustion swallowed him, pain creeping back until every part of him ached. He stared back at Teyla, unable to speak, desperately trying to pull air into his heaving lungs. He was acutely aware of the blood on his hands, overflowing the basins, the soft tap of it hitting the floor.
Teyla's song. She had been strengthening him. He'd heard it as cool blue water, but he hadn't known it was for him. He hadn't thought about it at all.
There.
The directive quivered like an arrow in his mind, and he looked at Teyla and through her to the beautiful life pulsing beneath her heart. Her baby, whom Rodney already loved as if this child were his own, this small, precious thing Rodney would give his life to protect.
Give it to me.
The imperative was so strong that Rodney almost reached for her, almost put his hand on Teyla's abdomen and gave the chair what it wanted.
His own death wasn't enough; not for this. But two deaths would be.
"No! No! Teyla, get away!" He thought he was shouting, but he couldn't feel if his mouth was moving and he didn't know if she could hear him or if she understood. Rodney struggled in the chair, back arching as he fought to get free, but he couldn't. It was just like before.
Radek had pulled him out of the chair, that time, but Radek wasn't there anymore.
"Rodney!" Teyla was reaching for him, but he managed to shake his head and maybe she saw it, because she hesitated, hand frozen a hair's breadth from his own.
Give it to me.
"No. No, please..." Rodney closed his eyes. The urgent need to give the chair what it wanted was a physical pain, scalding his nerves like wyvern's blood. Like the wyvern's blood had scalded Five.
"Oh..." Rodney breathed. He blinked the tears from his eyes, and he was out at the wall again, watching Five: beautiful and terrible as he killed Wraith over and over again. Rodney loved him. And the chair knew.
Give it to me.
"Gods help me," Rodney whispered. "No." But there was no choice. Magic was a zero-sum game, and now the chair wanted Rodney to pay. Someone he loved had to die.
"Take him. Instead of the baby," Rodney said. The tears were burning hot on his face. "Take him."
The chair did, and Rodney spoke the words to the spell of negation.
On the battlements, Rodney watched Five kicked at a Wraith's jerking body as he yanked out his sword, turned to face the next threat then suddenly stumbled as if he'd been hit, though no Wraith had laid a hand on him. He dropped to his knees, his eyes wide and startled as the sword slid from his hand.
"Five?" Lorne shoved a Wraith back with his shield, then dropped his sword and knelt so he could catch Five as he keeled over. "What happened? Are you all right?" But Five couldn't answer. His body jerked in Lorne's arms, arched, and he started screaming.
"Souls in hell!" Lorne held Five more tightly as if he could protect him from the pain. He glanced behind him, but the Wraith weren't attacking anymore. They'd stopped dead, watching Five with dreadful fascination. "It's okay. I've got you, I've got you. You're going to be all right," Lorne said to Five. He tightened his grip on him, keeping one eye on the Wraith. Five grabbed his hand and Rodney could see Lorne's face tighten with pain.
And then, like a vessel suddenly cracking open, white light poured out of Five. First his eyes, then his mouth, then even his ears and then his whole body was made of light. Lorne cried out in shock and turned his face away, squeezing his eyes shut.
The nearest Wraith shrieked and started to run, heedless of the other demonspawn he knocked aside in his panic. The light caught him as he leapt off the wall, and he disintegrated, leaving nothing but a drift of white ash where his body had been.
All the Wraith started running then, but it was already too late. The light spread and spread and grew brighter then brighter still, until the entire City of Atlantis and the forest beyond were flooded with it, like a star had fallen from the sky. And every Wraith the light touched turned to ashes.
Atlantis Castle was bathed in light. It poured in through every window, every open door, every crack, until there were no shadows anywhere and the castle was a white pillar rising to the sky.
The light bathed the chapel where Radek's body was being kept, and the copper melted back into flesh and blood and bone and breath moved in human lungs. Light poured into the bedroom of the former queen, and Elizabeth sat up and watched in astonishment and joy as her metal hands became human again.
Light flooded the tunnels, exposing everyone who had hidden there.
And light crept into the chair room until it was enveloped from wall to wall. Teyla fell to her knees with a cry, covering her eyes with her hands.
"Take that," Rodney said. He smiled.
The blue crystal in the back of the chair cracked.
The chair jolted, and something like a scream reverberated through Rodney, except there was no sound in it; just an overwhelming sense of loss and fear and rage. It hurt like being held down in fire.
Then the chair jerked upright, spilling Rodney into darkness.
The singing, Teyla's voice, was what made him open his eyes.
He wasn't in the chair room anymore. He was in the tunnel outside, squinting up at the dim crystalline light. He was lying on his back with his hands on his stomach. His forearms were wrapped in cloth that looked and felt too fine to be linen. His head was resting on Teyla's thigh, butting against the roundness of her abdomen, and he was freezing and everything hurt and he was still alive.
"Rodney!" Teyla said. She was smiling down at him, but her expression was tight and strained. Her gown had a lot of blood on it, so much that Rodney feared it was hers, even though she looked all right. "Rodney, it's so good to see you." She wiped her cheeks with a delicate brush of her hand, and Rodney realized she was crying.
Rodney rolled away from her, then managed to push himself upright, then had to close his eyes so he wouldn't throw up when his stomach lurched from the movement. He glanced around him, at the servants and courtiers who had been hiding in the tunnels and had come out now to watch him and Teyla with the air of frightened rabbits. He barely knew any of them and didn't recognize any other wizards, no one who might be able to help.
Rodney put his hands on Teyla's stomach. He was very aware he was violating her privacy but there was no time to worry about that. He tried to feel her child kicking, moving, doing anything that would show he was still alive, but his hands were so thickly bandaged it was like wearing mittens, and they were shaking so badly he couldn't keep them still. He noticed absently that Teyla had bound his wounds with strips of cloth that she'd torn from her sleeves. He hoped she wasn't cold. "The baby," he said, breathless with fear. "Is he--I can't--"
Whatever she saw on his face made Teyla's eyes widen in alarm. "Rodney! Rodney, it's all right!" She grabbed his wrists, making him look at her, holding him steady. "He's all right, the baby is all right," she said again, and her calm bled into him and it felt like he could actually think. "We're safe." She smiled again, though she looked too worn to seem entirely happy. "You are the one I was frightened for. When the chair broke, you were barely breathing. I wasn't sure I would be able to heal you."
"What happened? What was that light?" Someone asked.
Rodney ignored them. "I heard your song," he said quietly, looking down at his hands. She was still holding his wrists as if she couldn't fathom letting go of him. Her healing him explained why his cuts didn't hurt. It probably explained why he was alive at all. That was twice she'd saved him. "I don't remember the chair breaking," he said. He looked at her again. "Are we safe? Did I do it?"
"I don't know," Teyla said earnestly. "I have only been here, with you. All I know is that there was that great light, and then the chair shattered and cast you out." She glanced at the others murmuring worriedly around them. "None of us know what is happening."
"I think I killed the Wraith," Rodney said dully. He was so tired he could barely remember why that was important. "Negation spell." He shook his head, trying to piece enough of his thoughts together to explain. "I mean...negation for evil. Magic made with evil intent." He waved his hand vaguely and it flopped back and forth in Teyla's grip. He licked his lips, trying to focus. "The chair...I remembered what you said." He found half a smile for her, quirking his already crooked mouth. "Guess you were right." He stopped speaking as something clicked into place in his head. There was a sudden, fleeting memory of metal and skin. "Radek! The chapel! Please!" He looked around at the stupid, gawking courtiers. "You need to see--"
"What if it's come alive again?" The woman was wringing her hands in her stained apron. She looked like she might start squawking any moment, like one of the chickens.
Teyla seemed to choose someone at random, fixing them with her eyes. "Go to the chapel. If Witch Scholar Zelenka is alive you must bring him to the infirmary." She was still their regent, and the watch volunteer did an awkward courtesy that made her chain mail rattle and raced off.
"Elizabeth too," Rodney said.
"She is in her chambers," Teyla reminded him gently. "I am sure we need not fear for her."
Rodney nodded, but he wasn't paying attention. Something else was tugging at him, another memory, like an impatient child...
The chair. "It didn't want me," he said, speaking to the memory, ignoring Teyla's confused and worried expression. "No. It didn't want just me. It wanted..."
Five. The agony of loss was like being stabbed in the heart. Rodney's vision grayed for a moment and he swayed. Only Teyla's grip on his forearms kept him from falling.
"What is it, Rodney?" Teyla asked him.
"He's dead," Rodney told her. "He's dead. I killed him. I--" He broke off, shaking his head mutely, unable to speak.
"Rodney! Who's dead?" Teyla demanded. Her eyes were wide with growing alarm. "What's wrong?"
"Five," Rodney managed to choke the word out. He wanted to fall against her and weep like a baby, but part of him was afraid he'd never stop. "The chair." He twisted his hands slightly and Teyla let him go. He used the bandages on his arms to blot his eyes enough so he could see. "It wanted...It wanted two deaths. Not just mine." He had to gulp in air between the words. "Your baby. I--I gave it Five. Instead." He swallowed, and it felt like stones tumbling down his throat. "I...Not your baby. I couldn't..."
Teyla went white. She pressed her hands to her abdomen as if on reflex, turning to look wild-eyed at the room containing the broken control chair.
"It was evil," Rodney said softly. "That's why the spell killed it. You were right."
She nodded absently, palms still on her body. Rodney thought she relaxed a little, either because the chair was broken or she'd felt her son again. "I owe you both a great deal, then," she said, her voice rough.
Rodney shook his head. "It wasn't his choice."
"I'm sure he would have offered, had he known," Teyla said. It was no comfort, but her voice sounded like her mind was elsewhere. She closed her eyes, obviously concentrating.
"What is it?" One of the gawkers asked. Rodney hissed at them to be quiet.
"I don't understand," Teyla said. Her eyes were still closed, her attention focused inward. "I can still sense him, like I did in the Market. He was lost to me among so many Wraith, but now that they're gone..." She opened her eyes, looking at Rodney. "My awareness of him is very distinct--not Wraith, but tainted. I recognize it clearly. I don't believe I could sense him if he were truly dead."
Rodney looked at her, too stunned to even dare hope. "What?"
"Rodney," Teyla said, more urgently. "I think he's alive."
"Are you serious?" Rodney demanded. It was a rhetorical, useless question, the words propelled out of his mouth by his frantic, stuttering heart. "I have to get to him," Rodney said, not even waiting for Teyla's answer. He lifted his left palm to his mouth and started tugging at the bandage with his teeth, meaning to unravel it. Teyla said she'd healed him, but he still had his knife--"
"Rodney!" Teyla grabbed his wrist again, yanking his hand away from his mouth with such suddenness that it hurt Rodney's teeth. "What are you doing?"
"A teleportation spell," Rodney snapped, trying to pull his wrist back from her. She held his arm frighteningly easily, an alarming reminder of how weak he was. "I need to get to him--let me go!"
"No," she said, her expression as angry as Rodney had ever seen it. "You must not cut yourself again. Your body cannot support it."
"What do you expect me to do, Teyla?" Rodney shouted. "I can't work my magic if I don't bleed for it!"
"No," Teyla said again. "That's a lie. The mage Recompense is a lie. The chair was evil, Rodney. It's breaking proved as much." Her voice and expression gentled. "You don't need to cut yourself for your magic, Rodney. Remember the skein--you are just changing the form of what is already there. You don't have to earn it."
Rodney looked at her, the calm certainty in her eyes. He glanced back at the chair room, though of course there was nothing left there for him to see. "I don't know what to believe anymore," he said, desperate and terrified. "I have to save him."
"You will," Teyla said fiercely. "But not with blood." She took his other wrist again, but in connection, not restraint. "Let me help you."
Rodney looked down at where she had joined them. He took as deep a breath as he could manage around the hammering of his heart. "Hold on," he said needlessly and closed his eyes.
His arm itched, as if waiting for a blade. Like yarn, he thought. This is changing the form, not the substance. I don't have to bleed. It didn't make it seem any more real.
He spoke the words of the spell and they vanished.
Part Six: Five for Transformation
Rodney snapped awake on the battlements, with Teyla shaking him and the wind screaming like a wyvern and whipping at their clothes. He was already shivering, so cold he might as well have been naked. It felt like there was no blood left in his body, or at least not enough to warm it anymore.
"How long was I unconscious?" he asked, pushing himself upright on shaking arms. It seemed miraculous that his teeth didn't snap as soon as he opened his mouth, or his tongue freeze.
"Not long," Teyla said, though her pinched expression gave lie to it. "Here. Put your arm here. I'll help you stand."
"Where's Five?" Rodney asked, but he did as she told him. She moved into a crouch with obvious difficulty and pulled his arm across her shoulders, putting her free arm around his waist. "Gather your legs," she ordered, and Rodney nodded dully and did his best to pull his splayed limbs into a position he could possibly rise from. She asked if he was ready and he nodded again.
Teyla stood slowly, carrying him up with her, and Rodney marveled at her strength. She was so petite and decorous that Rodney often forgot that her primary role among the Athosians had been as leader and warrior. Rodney did his best to help her, but the world went fuzzy and grey and his knees kept buckling. He wasn't sure how long he forced her to stand there, gritting her teeth and hanging onto him before he was finally able to balance on his own.
"Sorry! Sorry!" he panted. He felt awful to be putting so much weight on Teyla in her condition, but he didn't have the energy to say as much, even if he dared to. "Thank you."
She gave him a wan, tired smile. "Let's find our Shields."
Rodney nodded, and let Teyla keep taking some of his weight as he limped alongside her, trying not to trip her or accidentally push her into one of the high walls. "There," he said, pointing a trembling finger. The junction where the north and east walls met was a little more sheltered from the wind. It seemed most likely that the injured would have been placed there to wait for help to come.
Every step they took left footprints in piles of thick white ash, blown into drifts from the wind. It looked like snow, but very obviously wasn't, and Rodney had to keep his eyes forward so he wouldn't gag from the sight of it.
They finally made it to the junction. Just as Rodney had guessed, there was a small cluster of wounded either lying flat on the bricks or sitting propped against the wall.
"Who's there?" Major Lorne had a strip of linen wrapped around his head covering his eyes. He was leaning against the wall, looking sickly and in a lot of pain, but he turned in their general direction anyway and reached clumsily for his sword.
"It's all right, Major," one of the few surviving watch said. He put his hand on Lorne's shoulder, patting absently. His eyes held the empty madness of someone who had lost part of their soul. The Wraith had clearly fed on him before Rodney had cast his spell. There was a woman beside him, huddled in her mantle and looking even worse, rocking back and forth and staring vacantly. Rodney doubted the poor woman would live very long. And next to her, lying on the cold bricks and ash was Five. Someone had wrapped him in their mantle, and next to the off-white of the wool Five's skin was grey as the stone. His eyes were closed and his face slack like the Collectors had already taken him. Rodney couldn't see him breathe.
"...Made that light?" Lorne was saying, and Rodney only realized then that the Major had been speaking to him. He gently let go of Teyla so as not to pull her over, then had to lean on the wall when his legs almost gave out again. Rodney started struggling towards Five, fingers digging into cracks in the mortar to help him stand. "Five collapsed, and then this light just started pouring out of him." Lorne gestured at his eyes. "I was right next to him when it happened. I tried not to look directly at it, but I guess it wasn't enough." He reached up to touch his face, then hesitated and dropped his hand. "The Wraith are gone, aren't they? Did Five do that? Destroy the Wraith?"
"I did," Rodney said tightly, keeping his eyes ahead of him. "Five was the conduit." He risked looking over his shoulder. "We'll be able to heal your eyes, Major," he said, because he was sure the poor man was terrified that this would be the rest of his life.
"I can start the process now," Teyla said, and Rodney saw how she lowered herself heavily to her knees. He cursed himself for not noticing how exhausted she was, not remembering how much effort she'd already expended to heal him. He desperately hoped that she could help Lorne without doing herself harm, because he knew there was no point in telling her not to.
"Where is Ronon?" Rodney heard her asking, but he had finally made it to the other side of the corner that made up the junction of the walls, and the roaring in his ears drowned out Lorne's answer. The last time he'd seen Ronon was when he'd healed him; Rodney could only assume he was still alive and dealing with his own wounded.
He let himself drop to his knees next to Five, barely registering the pain from his cold shins hitting colder stone. He touched Five's neck with hands that trembled from far more than cold, wincing at how Five's skin felt just as cold as Rodney's fingers. He touched the pulse point in Five's neck, and thought he could feel an echo of Five's heart, slow and weak as it stuttered into death.
Five had been the conduit for the negation spell; that was the only reason Rodney could think of to explain why he wasn't human now. He should have been dead, he and Rodney both, but it seemed Rodney had destroyed the chair only to give Five a slow, quiet death instead of a fast, agonizing one.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't die," Rodney murmured, half to himself. He didn't even know what spell would work for this, or even what spell he could cast without dropping dead from the effort before it was completed. Rodney didn't want to die, but he would if that was the only option.
He owed Five that much, but there was nothing about debt in what he was prepared to do. The chair wouldn't have demanded Five as its Recompense in the first place if Rodney hadn't already loved him enough to die for him.
Rodney shuffled around until he was sitting. Five was dead weight and Rodney was sweating and dizzy again when he'd managed to pull Five into his arms. Five's head lolled against Rodney's shoulder, so that all Rodney could see was the side of his face and neck. His shield mark stood out like ink on his skin, so much like Ronon's but not quite the same, showing Five's different origin. Rodney's gaze traveled up, past the curve of Five's cheek to the odd, almost-pointed ear. He could all but feel Five dying.
Rodney closed his eyes. He concentrated, gathering whatever remnants of strength he had, forming the words of his most powerful healing spell in his mind. He didn't know what else to do, didn't think he would survive this, but Five was dying. There was no other choice.
"Rodney!"
Rodney's eyes flew open and there was Teyla, kneeling in front of him the way she had outside the chair room. Rodney glanced over her shoulder and saw Lorne was apparently asleep, leaning against the watchman.
"I need to heal him, Teyla," Rodney said.
Teyla nodded. "Let me help you."
Rodney almost said no. The refusal was automatic and ingrained, like giving blood for magic. But he didn't have to do that anymore. He didn't have to be afraid.
Rodney nodded.
"Thank you," Teyla said, beaming at him despite the weariness etched into her face. She moved closer so that she was embracing both Rodney and Five. She put her head on Rodney's shoulder and closed her eyes, then began her song of healing.
Rodney didn't close his eyes again. He looked at Five instead, focusing on him, tuning out the terrible cold, the miserable weakness of his body and the complaints of the wind so he could concentrate on nothing but Teyla's voice and the spell she was weaving with it. He could see her magic as if the melody was made of light: a ribbon as red as her yarn, as red as the life of her child, as red as blood. Rodney whispered the words to the strongest healing spell he knew, feeling his own magic flowing through his body like the blood in his veins. He opened himself to it, and it felt strangely like it had to open his skin. There was the same release and warmth, but without the pain. Without the narrow focus of a wound it was like Rodney was open everywhere, magic flowing out of him the way it did with Teyla, carried on her voice; the way it did with Carson's chanting.
And Teyla's voice--her magic was red as life, his as gold as the sun, and they touched and joined like flame to flame. Rodney felt infinite, omnipotent, like he had in the chair. But here there was no promise of death hanging over him. Just red life, binding them like yarn, and then Five as well when Rodney and Teyla moved the magic into him. Her song soared and Rodney completed the spell, and he could feel it work, gathering up Five where he had been unraveling, knitting him whole, changing the form but leaving the substance the same.
Five's body started to glow from the inside out. Not with the terrible, killing light of the negation spell, but warm red-gold, making him look fire-bronzed, unearthly and beautiful. His chest rose and fell with deep and even breaths, and his body was warm. Five's mouth curved into a tiny smile, as if he were just asleep and having a good dream. And he began to change.
His features started to shift, flowing like molten gold from one form to another. The blue of his skin faded, his hair became lighter in color. His ears elongated into true points. His black claws retreated into the tips of his fingers, leaving translucent nails in their wake.
Teyla missed a note, and Rodney finally noticed that her song was wavering, the beautiful red fading along with her ability to maintain the spell. Without Teyla to sustain him, Rodney began to feel a crushing weakness bearing down on him, so suddenly that he almost keeled over. Only Teyla's body held him upright. He moved one of his arms to grip her to him as best he could, to support her body along with his own. They were almost finished. Rodney could feel it and he was certain Teyla could as well. They just had to hold on.
Rodney closed his eyes, pulling further into himself so he could ignore the renewed shaking of his limbs, the way his heart was drumming. All he could see like this was red-gold; Five's body was still alight. The hues of gold and red melded and separated, moving along his form as he changed, re-becoming what he always should have been.
Five's transformation was almost complete when Teyla's voice broke. Rodney could hear her sobbing for breath. Her body was warm but shaking, and Rodney could feel her sweat where her wet hair brushed against his face, already going stiff in the freezing wind. Rodney wanted to call for help for her, but he had no breath to spare, no way to move. If he broke his own spell now Five would end up deformed in some way, he might even die. But it was almost finished. Just a few moments more and Five would be...would be...
Would--
His eyes slid open to nothing.
It was so dark Rodney couldn't see anything, like night had crept in and swallowed him whole. He couldn't feel his body, could feel nothing but a cold deeper than winter. It was quiet. Rodney thought he could hear voices, sometimes, lots of voices. Talking? Talking to him, maybe? Some of them sounded upset, but they were so distant it didn't matter. Not much of anything mattered where he was.
The Collectors will come, Rodney thought. They'd be able to find him, even in the dark. Even with the symbols Carson and Teyla and Ronon had painted on his skin. Rodney wondered if the symbols were still there, or if he'd lost them along with everything else.
Rodney was drifting, floating away like a leaf on a gentle tide. He didn't fight it, knew he couldn't if he tried. He was tired, and cold and he didn't want to fight anymore. He just wanted to let go, empty himself into the dark.
Except, someone kept calling him.
He didn't know how long it'd been going on, or when he'd begun listening for it. Just...every so often there would be a voice calling his name.
Rodney. Come on, Rodney. Come back already. We're waiting for you.
Rodney didn't know who was speaking to him. He was very insistent, however. Kind of annoying, really. But every time he called Rodney's name, or demanded that Rodney return, there was a sliver of light piercing the darkness, like opening a door. And Rodney knew that all he had to do was go through it, and he'd be home.
Rodney wasn't sure he wanted to do that. It was peaceful here. He didn't like being cold, but nothing hurt where he was, no pain or sorrow or anything at all. He didn't want to be in pain, and the dead didn't feel anything.
But whoever kept talking to him was really, really persistent.
Souls in hell, Rodney! I swear on my mother's horns that if you don't wake up right now I'm going to go in there after you.
And cajoling:
Come on--Elizabeth and Radek are right here. Ronon too. And don't you want to meet Teyla's baby?
Teyla, Rodney thought. Radek. Elizabeth. The names burst like bright flowers in his mind. Teyla. If she'd had the baby it had to mean she was all right. And if Elizabeth and Radek were there, then it was possible they were human again. Rodney had seen the spell he'd cast destroy the Wraith, but he wasn't sure about anything else. But if the spell had truly worked on them...
Relief and fragile hope trickled into him, like a thin band of warmth in the cold, changeless dark. If Teyla, and Elizabeth and Radek were all right, then maybe Five was too, maybe Rodney had managed to save him before he'd slipped into this darkness. He didn't know. All he remembered was the light and then nothing.
Like the light that was almost close enough for him to touch, if he just reached for it.
Rodney, please. I'll keep this up as long as I have to, but...I just want you back. I want to talk to you, instead of just talk at you like this. I want to see your blue eyes again. I just...I need you to live, okay?
Rodney still didn't know who it was, but they wanted him to live. They wanted him to live very badly. Rodney still wasn't sure if he actually wanted to live, but he knew he didn't want to stay where he was anymore. He wanted to see Elizabeth and Radek, to touch Teyla's baby. And he hadn't seen Ronon since he'd healed him out on the wall.
And if he went through the door, maybe whoever was talking would shut up for a while. That would be nice.
Rodney turned in the empty place he was and he reached out to grasp the light, like a door opened by a stranger's voice, and Rodney pulled himself through and opened his eyes.
He was in the infirmary again. Sunlight was bursting through the window in a cheerful way that could only mean early afternoon. Rodney had no idea what day it was.
He blinked slowly, feeling sluggish and heavy and impossibly tired, though he was wonderfully cozy and warm, all but buried under what felt like every blanket in the castle. It looked like he'd been painted again, he noted with a small sigh. At this rate he might as well get tattooed and be done with it.
There was someone sitting on his bed.
Rodney blinked again. The man looked...familiar, as if Rodney had just misplaced his features in his memory and he'd find them if he concentrated hard enough. Concentration was rather beyond him right now, unfortunately. The stranger was almost impossibly handsome, despite the bushy, disheveled hair and the--the antennae?--the whatever they were growing out of his forehead: small, brown feathery things that looked oddly delicate for such a face. His eyes were like the depths of a forest, brown speckled with green, like sunlight through a canopy of leaves.
He was sitting cross-legged and bare-footed, hands clasped in his lap, looking like that was the way he preferred to sit all the time and Rodney's bed was the only natural place for him to do it. He was also wearing what looked suspiciously like Rodney's leggings. He was shirtless, even though he didn't appear at all cold, which struck Rodney as a little strange right before he finally realized that what he'd been muzzily assuming were shadows on the wall behind the stranger resolved into a pair of small but very sturdy wings quite obviously growing out of his back, patterned in grey and black and brown. Like a moth.
So, not so much a man at all, then, really.
"Welcome back, Rodney," he said. His smile was small and fragile, and Rodney was surprised to see the tears on his face. He let them fall unashamedly, which definitely wasn't a human thing to do. His wings twitched, reminding Rodney a little of a flicking cat's tail, and a shower of dust drifted off them and fell onto the bed. It sparkled. Most of the bed was sparkling, Rodney noticed; he suspected this person had been there for a long time.
"Hello," Rodney said dubiously. Then, "You're a fairy," because that seemed to be the most obvious conclusion to come to, what with the wings and the pointy ears and the sparkles all over the place.
The fairy's eyebrows leaped up his forehead, and then he ducked his head like he was embarrassed. He rubbed the back of his neck. "We call ourselves Tuatha," he said. "But, ah, most people call my kind 'Nightflyers'."
Rodney completely ignored him, because he knew that gesture, he'd seen it before. And his face was a little different, sure, but it was the colors that had thrown Rodney, not the features. He looked so dissimilar with the human-toned skin and without the arresting yellow eyes that even the Shield mark (which had been easy to miss with the wings, really) hadn't sparked Rodney's memory.
"Five?" Rodney asked, all but gaping.
The fairy--Nightflyer--grinned. "My name is John," he said.
After that, John had said he was going to get Rodney something to eat, and then the duplicitous bastard came back with just about everyone in the castle. Carson had at Rodney first naturally, and when he'd hugged and prodded and mumbled and poked to his liking he stepped back and told everyone Rodney was free to take visitors "for a short while only, mind you. He still needs his rest." And then Elizabeth, Radek and Teyla, carrying her newborn, descended on him all at once.
Rodney didn't actually bawl like a baby, and the other three cried just as much anyway so he wasn't embarrassed about it at all. Of the four of them, only the baby wasn't crying, mostly because he had his little mouth plastered to one of his mother's breasts. And Rodney spent so much effort not noticing that he made himself dizzy.
The baby's name was Torren Rodney Emmagan-Teghan.
Ronon came by and slapped Rodney hard enough on the shoulder to break something. He cast a knowing glance at John, then grinned at Rodney and said, "Five for transformation. I told you."
Rodney could only nod. "Did you know what he was?" he asked.
"He's right here!" John called from the end of Rodney's bed, which he seemed to have laid claim to. He was drinking Kanaan's restorative and making faces at Teyla's baby, getting sparkle dust all over him. Teyla and Torren didn't seem to mind.
Ronon sent John a wolfish grin, then turned back to Rodney. "Nope." He shrugged. "I knew that what was trapped under that lizard skin would come out, though."
"Could've told me," Rodney groused, then sighed and took a spoonful of thin oatmeal. John actually had brought him food, at least, except it was the horrid stuff Carson insisted on feeding invalids. Rodney couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a decent meal. Or a bath.
Ronon shrugged again. "Yeah," he said. "I could've, but it wouldn't have helped anything. Besides, it all worked out, huh?" He slapped Rodney on the shoulder again, nearly upsetting the oatmeal.
"Yeah," Rodney said, looking at John. The baby had grabbed one of his moth horns and he was grinning like an idiot. "It really did."
Lorne spent about half an hour telling Rodney about the citizens' return to the city and how the repairs to the gallery walk were going and what they did with the wyvern carcass. Apparently wyvern leather made exceptional armor, and there was enough of it to outfit the entire permanent watch. Lorne's eyes were fine, which Rodney only believed after the eighth time he asked about them.
Lorne also mentioned that the story of Rodney's bravery had already been spread far and wide throughout Atlantis, and pretty soon Rodney would be praised as the savior of Pegasus everywhere. Rodney just nodded and tried to mutter something both modest and arrogant enough to be what he would usually say, and kept giving John guilty looks until John quirked his eyebrows at him.
Rodney also found out he'd been unconscious for only seven days this time. Teyla had slept for three, and then woken just in time to have her baby. Rodney was glad he'd missed that part, actually. Carson had forbidden her from tiring herself further after that, which was why John had been the one to finally call Rodney back to the land of the living. He'd barely left Rodney's side the entire time, either, which was humbling.
That was the second time John had saved Rodney's life. Rodney had lost count of how many times Teyla had done it.
Carson finally cleared everyone out except for John. Rodney didn't know when John had become his...whatever he was. Everyone treated him and John as if they were bonded, and it felt a little strange to suddenly find himself in a relationship that had apparently started while he'd been so unaware he didn't even know what John really looked like. Then again, he and John had kind of been in a relationship since John had found him in the chair room.
"What?" John asked him, and Rodney realized he'd been staring at him, cataloging the differences between John and Five. John's expression was bemused, but also worried, Rodney thought. As if John was certain that Rodney didn't like what he was seeing.
"You're beautiful," Rodney blurted. It was true, but it still gave him a certain amount of wicked glee to see John do the head-duck-and-neck-rub of embarrassment again. Sparkle dust sprinkled off his wings. "Do all fairies shed that much? Or is it just Nightflyers?" Rodney asked, genuinely curious.
"The Nightflyers shed the most, yeah," John said. He shook one wing a little, as if in emphasis. "They're actually scales, which protect the wings." He smiled wanly. "They're constantly replacing themselves."
"Is that, uh, are those scales poisonous?" Rodney asked, gesturing vaguely at the end of the bed, which was getting more and more sparkly as Rodney watched. "I mean, to breathe, or anything?"
"No," John said. He smiled, but he pulled his knees up and put his forearms on them, then his chin on his forearms, so he was looking at Rodney as if from overtop a wall. "Actually, they, uh...have healing properties. And other things." He shrugged. "Alchemists and witches use Tuatha dust in their potions. And, uh..." He looked pained. "We fed it to you when you were asleep for so long, to sustain you," he said quietly. "Carson was worried about you losing more weight or getting dehydrated again, especially since you were still recovering from the fever."
Rodney stared at him. "You fed me your magic fairy wing dandruff?"
John's eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to give some obviously nasty reply, but then just sighed. His shoulders slumped and even his wings seemed to droop, as if he were feeling defeated. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sure the idea of it is pretty disgusting. We wouldn't have done it at all, except Carson really didn't think we had a choice."
"Well, I don't, um, I don't really remember it," Rodney said. He pointed at his mouth. "How did you, uh, get it in there?"
Another shrug. "We just spread fingerfuls on your tongue. It kind of gets absorbed."
"Oh," Rodney said.
"I used it to finish healing your cuts and burns, too," John said. "It works really well when you rub it in the wound."
"Oh," Rodney said again. "Um. Thank you."
John looked down at the bed. "Don't worry about it."
They descended into unpleasant silence. Rodney clutched at his sparkly blankets, wondering just what, exactly, he'd done wrong.
"Well, I guess I should go, then," John said finally. He uncoiled from his miserable-looking crouch and got off the bed. His mouth did something like smiling. "I'll see you later."
"Wait!" Rodney cried, when he'd finally figured out that John was about to walk away. "Wait!" John stopped and looked at him, face impassive, and Rodney suddenly had no idea what to tell him. "Don't go," he finished lamely.
John was still looking levelly at him. "I'm sorry I'm not Five anymore, Rodney," he said, like he genuinely regretted it. "I know you liked him--liked me better that way." He gestured at his body, spreading his hands and wings as if to display them. "But this is what I really am."
"I thought you were human!" Rodney blurted, and if anything John's face went even more expressionless. "Wait!" Rodney called again, when John was obviously still going to leave. "Why would you think I preferred the blue, mute lizard version?"
John spread his hands again, but this time in a gesture of confusion. "Because I was mute? Because I'm not human?" He reached over his shoulder and pulled his thumb and two fingers along the top curve of a wing, pushing dust into the air. "Because this disgusts you?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Rodney demanded. "You think I liked that you couldn't speak? And why would your sparkly dust disgust me? Well, I mean, yes, okay, I did ask if it was poisonous, but I need to ask that! I'm mortally sensitive to certain foods! It's vital information! And I didn't know you'd been feeding it to me at the time!"
John looked marginally happier, but he still didn't go back to the bed. "You haven't touched me," he said. "You touched Five all the time."
He sounded a wee bit petulant, but Rodney supposed he couldn't blame him. He smacked his palm against his face in exasperation anyway. "I'd just woken up," Rodney protested. "And I didn't even recognize you, at first. And then you dragged everyone in the city in here." He rubbed the side of his face. He was exhausted, though he'd only been awake for about two hours. He made a very easy decision and lifted the ton of blankets in plain invitation. "Come here, idiot."
John's face brightened, though he still looked wary. "I'll get scales all over your bed."
Rodney snorted. "You've already gotten scales all over my bed. They won't irritate my skin, will they? My skin's pretty sensitive."
John rolled his eyes. "So says the mage who has scars all over him." But he was walking to the bed as he spoke, and crawled in beside Rodney with a sigh. Rodney thought he'd have to lie on his stomach, to protect his wings, but he lay on his side with his wings curving under his body and with the blanket resting on them. He scooted just close enough to Rodney that Rodney's eyes didn't cross when he looked at John's face. He put his arm around Rodney's waist. Rodney did the same to him. He started rubbing John's back automatically. John sighed again in obvious contentment.
"You're so warm," Rodney said. He'd expected John would be cold the way Five had been, but John's body was like a furnace. Rodney doubted he'd need all those blankets very soon.
"It's convenient when you can't wear shirts," John said.
"Makes sense," Rodney said.
Silence drifted over them again, like dust from John's wings. Rodney was very aware of John's body, John's new body, so alike and so different from Five's. They weren't quite touching but so close they might as well have been, and even though John was wearing leggings and Rodney one of Carson's ridiculous nightshirts, Rodney felt very, very naked. He thought that would worry him more if he wasn't so incredibly tired.
"I really missed you," John said quietly. He touched Rodney's face, almost tentatively, as if he couldn't quite believe Rodney was real. "All I knew was that I'd been on the wall, fighting, and then there was this unbelievable pain. It felt like I was burning alive, and it was unending." He brushed his fingertips over Rodney's eyelashes, then down the curve of his cheek. "I don't know when it finally stopped, maybe when the chair broke. But I don't remember anything else until you and Teyla healed me." He grinned. "That part was fantastic. I thought I'd been taken to the underworld for a while, because I wasn't in pain anymore, or cold, and there was just this light...This beautiful light, everywhere." He chuckled self-consciously, and it reminded Rodney so much of Five's chuffing laugh that he blinked. "And then I woke up in a bed next to yours, and I had about the flicker of a candle flame to get used to being in my own skin again--to having my wings back--before Carson was telling me he needed the scales to keep you alive."
"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," Rodney said. He'd been half-asleep until John started talking, but now he was horribly, horribly awake. He swallowed painfully. "It's my fault."
John nodded. "I know. Teyla told me."
"You know?" Rodney breathed. "You know what I did?"
"Yeah," John said it like it didn't matter, which made no sense at all. "You sacrificed me to save Teyla's baby, and then you destroyed the Wraith and the chair before either of us actually died. And then you helped save my life and gave me back my wings." He smiled crookedly. "Seems like kind of a win to me."
Rodney closed his eyes. "You were in agony, and you didn't even know what was happening. I--I murdered you. You didn't have a choice!"
"Hey," John said, just sternly enough that Rodney opened his eyes. "I would have done it anyway." He cupped the side of Rodney's head, threading his long fingers through Rodney's hair. "I would have done it anyway," he repeated.
"I know," Rodney said huskily. "I mean, I knew that. It doesn't make it any easier to deal with."
"Teyla told me why you chose me," John said.
Rodney tried to recall what he'd said to her. He had a vague sense that he'd told her everything. "She did?"
John's smile was warm as summer. "Yeah," he said. "She did." And then he kissed him.
Rodney froze. His first, automatic reflex was to put his hand on John's chest and push him away, but he only got as far as feeling the solid, steady beat of John's heart under his hand.
John moved back anyway, watching Rodney with his marvelous, forest-hued eyes. "You don't have to be afraid, Rodney," he said.
Rodney nodded jerkily, though he wasn't even sure what for. In contrast to the steady beat of John's heart, Rodney's felt so erratic it was like it was about to slam out of his chest and go bouncing around the room. He licked his very dry lips. "I love you," he said, quick as his pounding heart. "I loved Five and I love you. It doesn't matter what you look like."
John smiled widely. "I know."
"I don't think my magic will hurt you anymore," Rodney said.
"No, it won't," John said.
Rodney nodded. John tried to kiss him again but he kept his hand where it was. His heart was still trying to escape from his body, though now it seemed like it would be via his throat. Rodney wasn't sure how much of it was anxiety and how much exhilaration. He took a deep breath, which didn't help at all. "You should know--I haven't...I haven't done this in a really long time," he said. "Not since I was fully initiated as a mage."
John's eyes widened, and then his grin turned blinding. "This is going to be fantastic."
"You really like that word, do--" Rodney was completely muffled by John's kiss, so heated and enthusiastic that Rodney felt a little like he was just holding on, trying to keep up. John rolled them until Rodney was on his back with John over him, straddling his thighs so that their groins were pressed together.
John moaned happily into Rodney's mouth before he pulled away. Not even his smile could diminish the desire kindling in his eyes.
"Fantastic," he said again, and grinned.
Rodney yanked him back down into another kiss while John was still laughing.
It was deep night when Rodney woke up again. The only light in the infirmary came from the few torches set far away from the beds and the light of the moon spilling in through the window.
John's wings looked as ephemeral as a dream and just as delicate, silvered in the moonlight. He was sleeping on his stomach with his head pillowed on his folded arms. His body was a solid strip of warmth all along Rodney's side.
They'd thrown the blankets off, but between John's body heat and Atlantis' accommodation Rodney was pleasantly warm. He wasn't sure what woke him, though he guessed it was an overabundance of sleep. He didn't feel tired, anyway.
He lifted himself on his bent arm and watched John sleep, how his wings rose and fell with his breathing. John was covered in the dust from his wings, like Rodney, the bed and nearly everything around them, and John's hair and skin sparkled white under the moon, as if John had been dappled with stars. He was incredibly beautiful.
So gently he was barely touching it, Rodney slid the pad of his first finger along the back of John's wing. He'd seen that they weren't fragile, but it still felt almost cruel to touch it, like he would damage it if he did. His finger came away with a rime of sparking dust, light and soft as powder.
John shuddered in his sleep.
Rodney didn't move, barely breathed until John settled again. He looked at the powder on his finger thoughtfully then finally shrugged and put it in his mouth.
"Are you licking my wings?" John murmured.
Rodney jumped and gasped. "Don't do that! And I wasn't licking your wings," Rodney protested, indignant. "I...may have touched one of them. Just to feel it."
John chuckled sleepily. "I don't mind if you lick my wings." He squirmed around until he was on his back, which should have crushed his wings horribly but didn't. He turned his head to look at Rodney, all heavy-eyed and tousled with sleep. He smiled up at him. "Want to lick my wings?"
"Pervert," Rodney said. John laughed.
"Did you taste it?" John asked, slightly more seriously. He still managed to make the question sound absolutely filthy.
Rodney nodded, feeling equal parts embarrassed and turned on. "It tastes like honey," he said. It came out so huskily he knew he wasn't hiding anything from John at all.
"You can have more," John said. There was temptation in his voice, but it was surprisingly shy, and Rodney suddenly realized how intimate it was, what he'd just done: taking sustenance from John's body. And John had offered more to him, he trusted him that much.
"Thank you," Rodney said. He thought John might be the one blushing now, the slightly deeper tint to his skin.
Rodney lay down again carefully, though John didn't seem to mind that Rodney was also leaning on a wing. He put his hand on John's stomach, petting absently. He could see John watching him out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't stop what Rodney was doing.
"I'm a little disappointed about the licking," John said.
Rodney smirked. "When I get let out of here," he promised. "I don't want to risk Carson seeing us while I'm...licking anything." He probably blushed more than John did at the ridiculous innuendo, but it was still worth it.
John heaved a completely fake put-upon sigh and put his hand over Rodney's, stopping the movement. He just held Rodney's hand on his stomach, playing a little with his fingers. The silence that settled between them this time was comfortable, and Rodney was considering trying to sleep again when John spoke.
"Why weren't you frightened of me?" he asked.
"You weren't frightening," Rodney said.
"Everyone else was frightened of me," John said, painfully insistent. "Someone saw me...eating, and the next thing I knew I was surrounded by a mob swinging pieces of wood and hammers and swords. I couldn't get away from them. Not without really hurting somebody."
"You must have been hungry," Rodney said, "to risk being seen like that."
John nodded. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, as if these things were easier to say if he couldn't see Rodney's face. "But you, Teyla and Ronon--you weren't frightened. Why weren't you?"
Rodney cleared his throat. "I don't know," he said honestly, thinking. "I think it was because Teyla had already said you weren't a demon or a Wraith." He smiled apologetically. "I was a little afraid, actually, but only when I cut you free. We'd just been told by a merchant that you'd ripped the neck off a goose," he explained. "And your claws looked very sharp. But you didn't hurt me, and you didn't just run away like I thought you would. You helped me, too. And then you tried to sacrifice yourself for me, which was just idiotic. But after that it was pretty obvious what kind of person you were."
"Thank you," John said softly. "You saved my life, all three of you. You didn't even know who I was."
"It didn't matter," Rodney said. "We knew you were being unfairly executed, even for Market justice." He shrugged, shifting his hand a little. John held it more tightly. "We weren't going to just let that happen."
"Thank you," John said again.
"What happened to you, John?" Rodney asked. "Who did that?"
John went very still, and Rodney tensed, fearing he'd upset him again by asking. But this time John just drew in a deep breath and started speaking.
"I was a Shield," he began, but Rodney cut him off.
"You're still a Shield," Rodney said. "Hey--has Queen Elizabeth reinstated you yet?"
John smiled. "Not officially. She wanted to wait until you were well enough to attend the ceremony. But she removed the counter-verification spell that my former Line Master had put on the mark."
"Good," Rodney said vehemently. He would be extremely happy to never, ever see John in pain again.
John smiled, but his eyes were distant. "I was a Shield," he said again. "In the North."
Rodney winced. He'd thought as much, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. "I'm so sorry."
"Thanks," John said softly. "It was...bad. There weren't many of my people--the Tuatha Nightflyers--but the few of us who came to try to drive the Wraith back volunteered to be on the front lines, since Wraith can't feed from us." His mouth twisted in a small, ugly smile. "We thought they couldn't really harm us, because of that. We learned the truth pretty quickly."
"What happened?" Rodney asked.
"They're demonspawn," John said, as if that explained everything. He kept rigidly staring upwards. "They did things...They were worse than goblins, and I didn't think any creature could be more terrible than that."
Rodney felt a chill creep down his spine. He'd studied goblins; their favorite torture was to eat their prisoners while they were still alive. "What happened?" he asked again, even though he really didn't want to know anymore.
"They tore our wings off," John said. "The ones they captured, I mean. But they didn't kill them. They just..." He swallowed. "Left them like that. Let them go." He lifted his free hand to rub his face. "Even the goblins have enough compassion to kill Tuatha after they do that."
Rodney moved closer, which meant lying on more of John's closer wing, but John didn't react like it hurt him. He just pulled a bit until Rodney lifted up, then he rolled onto his side so they were face to face again. John closed his eyes and tilted his head forward until their foreheads were touching. He spoke into the little pocket of space between them. "You probably don't understand," John said thickly. "That's okay," he added, maybe because he could feel Rodney drawing breath to speak. "It's impossible to understand unless you're our kind. But...the closest thing I can think of would be having your arms and legs ripped off, and then losing your magic. No," he said a moment later, while Rodney was still reeling from trying to imagine that, "No, not just your magic. Imagine--imagine that happening, and then going blind and deaf, too. It's kind of like that."
"I don't think I'd be able to live like that," Rodney said, very softly. He felt John nodding.
"Tuatha can't use magic, because we are magic," John said. "Magic beings, I mean. But we have to be whole, or--or we stop working. Most of us can survive without arms or legs, but our wings are everything. Without them we...we don't even exist. It's a living death like you can't even imagine."
"I don't want to," Rodney said. He started rubbing John's back, since John seemed to like it. "Who did this happen to?"
"Me," John said.
Rodney gasped, jerked back from John so fast he banged his nose on his forehead. "What?" he could barely get the word out. After what he'd just heard...John had lived that? That was--that was... Rodney gagged. "I think I'm going to throw up."
"Here," John said. He reached behind him, trailed his fingers along a wing and then all but shoved the digits in Rodney's mouth. The honey flavor coated his tongue and Rodney felt better almost instantly.
"Anti-nausea?" he asked.
John shrugged. "Among other things."
Rodney tried to squirm closer, then just gave up and rolled onto his back, hauling John with him. John immediately scooted down so he could put his head on Rodney's shoulder and threw an arm across Rodney's chest. He sighed, visibly relaxing. Rodney slid his arms around him as best he could under the wings and held him tight.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," John said. His voice still sounded rough. He rubbed his face against Rodney's chest, a little like nuzzling. "Yeah, I'm okay."
"You can tell me if you need this," Rodney said. "Or, you know, just molest me."
John smirked a little. "Thank you," he said softly, and Rodney hated the earnestness in it.
"You don't have to tell me anything else," Rodney offered. "We could just sleep, if you wanted."
"I don't need much sleep," John said. "And anyway, I want to tell you."
"Okay," Rodney said.
He felt John swallow. "There was another Shield. A human alchemist. His name was...well, 'Holland' is the closest thing I could say in his language. We were friends."
Rodney had a terrible feeling he knew where this was going. "He was captured?"
John nodded, moving his smooth cheek over Rodney's skin. "I went after him. We'd been ordered to retreat, but I wouldn't. My Line Master was a hard northern type who thought all fairies were good for was stealing cream from people's doorsteps. He told me that if I went after Holland and somehow managed to survive, I wouldn't be a Shield anymore. He didn't have room in his line for anyone who disobeyed orders."
"I'm sorry I called you a fairy," Rodney said.
John laughed, all the more pleasant for how unexpected it was. "I don't mind if you say it." But he sobered all too quickly. "I went anyway. Among the Tuatha, only the Nightflyers are warriors. We have a creed--no one gets left behind. There's nothing we take more seriously."
"I understand," Rodney said softly.
He felt the curve of John's mouth as he smiled. "I know you do." He went on. "So, there was no way I'd leave any of us behind, but I sure as hell wasn't going to abandon my friend. I made it all the way into one of the Wraith's Hives before I was captured." His voice had lost most of its inflection, as if he were describing something that had happened to someone else. "I'd killed a lot of them by then. They were angry."
"I'm glad you killed them," Rodney said. The lack of feeling in John's voice did nothing to quell Rodney's mounting fear as to how this would end. "When did they...take your wings?" he asked, because he couldn't bear waiting to hear it.
John's breathing sped up, and Rodney could feel the tension in his back like knots down John's spine. "A few days later," he said, "after they'd taken and given back Holland's soul so many times he was begging them to kill him. They don't like magic users much."
"That--that's terrible," Rodney whispered. He hoped those Wraith were the last ones his spell caught. He hoped they had enough time to know exactly what would happen to them.
"Yeah," John said. He coughed. "I tried to stop them, but I'd been pretty badly beaten by then, so they just dragged him away, and hurt him. Over and over again." He closed his eyes. "I don't know why they kept Holland alive. Maybe it was just to torture me, because I couldn't do anything to help him."
"They're evil," Rodney said. "Maybe there wasn't a reason."
"Yeah," John said softly. He swallowed. "So...they just beat me. I'd been pretty lucky. And then one day or night, I don't even know, they pulled me out of the cage and...and they..."
John went silent. Rodney held him as he shook, murmuring stupid things and carding his fingers through his hair. He pretended not to notice that his chest was wet, or that his own eyes were prickling. He stayed like that, holding John until long after John's breathing evened out and he sniffed and wiped his eyes.
"Sorry," John said thickly. "I kind of forced it out of my mind, before. This is the first time I've told anyone."
"I don't mind," Rodney said.
"Thanks." John shifted a little, resettling, and started talking again.
"They threw me back into the cage," John said. "I remember that part. I remember how much my back hurt where my--where my wings had been. I kept trying to curl away from it, but it wouldn't stop. Nothing would stop it. The rest was just like a nightmare. I could see, but it was like I was blind anyway. The shapes and colors wouldn't become anything I could recognize. And sounds just kept..." He made a vague gesture next to his ear. "Moving. I can't explain it. Nothing made sense. I knew I was screaming, but I couldn't really hear it. I couldn't feel anything, either, except the pain. I remember that I knew Holland was holding onto me, I knew he was talking, trying to, to help me, but it was like I couldn't get to it, in my mind. Make it mean anything. Like all these fragments that wouldn't join anymore." His breath shuddered. "I was nothing. They'd made me into nothing."
Rodney squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to see John's twisted body on the floor of a cage, screaming in an agony Rodney couldn't even comprehend. "You were never nothing."
"I think...I'm almost certain it was Holland who saved me," John said, doggedly going on. "I don't know, not for sure, but it had to have been. I don't know how, but he must've had Wraith hair on him, or skin, after...after what they did. And he was an alchemist, so he must've used it to turn me into something else. Something that could survive without wings.
"I don't know how I got out of the Hive," John said. "There was Wraith blood on my hands, though. A lot of it. I remember that."
"Good," Rodney said. "I hope you tore their throats out."
"Me too," John said.
He went silent again. It wasn't quite the aching silence of before, but Rodney could tell it was bad all the same by how tense John still was, the minute tremble in his wings. Rodney wondered how John found his Shield Line again, what had happened to that bastard Line Master after he'd taken John's status as a Shield when John had already suffered so much. The man was probably dead, and Rodney was glad of it.
Rodney didn't ask what happened to Holland. Even if John remembered, Rodney didn't want to know.
He hadn't been wrong about John being the conduit for the negation spell, but Rodney had been wrong about why the spell hadn't worked on him. The spell only negated evil magic, and Holland's spell had saved John's life, and probably his soul.
"Is that why you hadn't tried to change back, before you came here?" Rodney asked. "I thought you meant that no one you'd gone to for help had been powerful enough. But I was wrong, wasn't I? You couldn't change back again."
He felt John's nod. "Yeah."
"I'm so sorry," Rodney said.
"Don't be," John said with surprising fierceness. "You have no idea, what you and Teyla gave back to me. You gave me more than my life. I thought...I never thought I'd be real again."
"You were always real," Rodney said.
John snorted, but he held Rodney a little more tightly. "It didn't feel like I was. It felt like some terrible dream I couldn't wake up from, like it wasn't even happening to me. I'd see my reflection, sometimes. In water or glass or whatever, and I wouldn't know who I was looking at. I heard people call me a monster so often that I started thinking that maybe that was all I'd ever been, that the Nightflyer I remembered had never existed. I followed the Wraith, killing them when I could, as many as I could. I knew they were going to Atlantis and I wanted to get there first, to fight. It was the only reason I had to keep going. And then you saved me." He lifted himself up on his hands so he could look Rodney in the face. "You were the first person who spoke to me in a year."
Rodney had to clear his throat a few times before he could answer. "I'm so glad that Teyla found you."
"Me too," John said, quietly but Rodney could hear the vehemence in it. "You spoke to me," John repeated like he still couldn't quite believe it. "Everyone did, even if they couldn't really understand what I was saying. They gave me clothes, and a warm place to sleep and a bath to get clean in. Teyla gave me soap." He smiled. "It was like I was a person again. But you were the first. I think that's when I kind of fell in love with you, right there in the alley. Because you spoke to me like I was a person."
"I think I kind of fell in love with you when you were irritating Carson," Rodney said.
John laughed. He looked down at Rodney with such tenderness that Rodney finally pulled him into a kiss so he wouldn't have to see it, because knowing he held John's heart like that was a little terrifying.
They kissed languidly for a while, and then John lay on Rodney again. "I would have been glad to die for any of you, because of that," he said. "But instead, you and Teyla gave me back my wings." He fluttered them a tiny bit, scattering dust.
"And my recompense is to sparkle for the rest of my life," Rodney said.
John laughed again, loud and annoying and happy. His wings shook and flung sparkle dust all over the place, and Rodney really didn't mind.
Epilogue: The Shield
"I'm bored," Ronon said. He was crouching on the floor with his back against a wall, far enough from the center of the hall that he was effectively hidden. Rodney supposed it was a good way to ambush enemies, or in this case outwit daughters of prominent Lords and Ladies who had drunk enough to think Ronon was being charming when he told them to leave him the hell alone.
"Why don't you go dance?" Rodney asked. He was leaning against the wall but standing, since he knew crouching would be terrible for his back and knees. He took another sip of his mulled wine as he watched the activities in the center of the hall, where the dining tables had been regrettably cleared to make room for dancing. "I'm sure what's-her-name and her sister who-knows-what-she's-called would be delighted to dance with you."
Ronon leveled him a look that made Rodney blink innocently. "Don't feel like dancing," he said. He reached into his new rune bag, pulled one out and scowled at it. Rodney craned his neck, trying to see what Ronon was looking at, but Ronon just glared and shoved the rune into the bag again. "I knew I should've gone hunting."
"I'm sure John appreciates that you stayed," Rodney said, meaning it. He was fairly certain that John appreciated Rodney staying as well, though John hadn't actually been able to do more than smile wistfully at him all evening. Now he was being forced into dancing with...well, pretty much everyone in the room, as far as Rodney could tell. He shrugged philosophically, thinking how it was just an unfortunate group of coincidences that made John so irresistible: those being that he was a Tuatha, an officially re-instated (and properly heroic) Shield, and somewhat astonishingly good-looking.
John was looking especially astonishingly good-looking tonight, Rodney thought. He'd had his hair cut, so he was neatly unkempt instead of messily unkempt, though in all honesty it was difficult to tell the difference. He was finally wearing his own clothes too, which was nice. Queen Elizabeth had commissioned a proper wardrobe for him, as befitted a Shield of Pegasus and Master muckity-whatever. John was wearing black leggings that actually fit and brand-new boots in black leather. Rodney understood the need for propriety among the courtiers et cetera, but he missed John's bizarrely elongated toes.
In lieu of a tunic, John was wearing a tabard, which was basically a decorated rectangle of cloth with a hole in it for John's head. The tabard served double duty of not constricting John's wings while still covering his torso, which was not only appropriate for official ceremonies, but had probably kept sisters whomever from spontaneously combusting, which Rodney was sure their parents appreciated. The tabard was divided into alternating squares of blue and black, the colors of Atlantis, with a rampant silhouette of a flying horse, the emblem of the Federated City-States of Pegasus, in the center. Rodney knew his own blue and black tabard went better with his eyes--and he'd never get tired of the added symbol for the Guild of Mages over his heart--but it suited John very well, though the way he kept smoothing the front with his palm, as if he didn't quite dare accept it was real, made Rodney a little sad.
"It was a good ceremony," Ronon said, sounding like he was only grudgingly admitting it. Ronon hated the required officiousness of inner court life slightly more than Rodney did. "It's been a long time since we had new Shields."
"Mmm," Rodney agreed, taking another sip of his wine. Major Lorne was now Lieutenant Master of the Watch, or something like that. He'd been made into a Shield as well, and he kept walking around looking proud and then touching his new mark and wincing. His mark was different from both John and Ronon's, since he'd been inducted in Atlantis. Rodney found it all fascinating and stupid at the same time. He was sure there were people who could recognize a Shield's city-state of origin just by glancing at their mark, but Rodney couldn't see the point in bothering when you could ask.
"You could be made into a Shield," Ronon said, seemingly out of nowhere until Rodney decided he'd been watching Rodney watching John and Lorne. "There are a lot of Shields who use magic."
Rodney snorted. "Like I don't already risk my life on a daily basis." He thought of the alchemist Shield, John's friend Holland who had saved his life, and shuddered. He took a long drink to hide it and emptied the bowl. He looked at the dregs of wine with some disappointment, since it meant he'd have to break cover if he wanted to get more, which might mean possible forced dancing.
John, Rodney noted with some amusement, was a remarkably terrible dancer. It wasn't that he was graceless, so much as...well, it was that he was graceless. Considering Rodney had seen him fly, not to mention spar with Ronon and Teyla, John's inability to move his feet in any kind of rhythm was a little hard to believe. But John was laughing at his own clumsiness, and shedding sparkles everywhere, and so effortlessly charming that no one seemed to mind when he crushed their toes.
Rodney didn't even realize that he'd stopped walking and was smiling besottedly in John's general direction until Teyla wandered over and nearly scared him out of his skin.
"My apologies, Rodney," Teyla said after she'd steadied him. She was too nice to laugh, though her eyes were sparkling like the dust from John's wings. She had a drinking bowl of her own, but Rodney could smell that there was nothing stronger in it than tea. The simple lines of her beautiful, wine-red gown were only slightly marred by the enormous sling for carrying Torren Rodney, except that it was currently empty.
"He is with his father," Teyla said with a smile, probably because she'd seen the flash of concern cross Rodney's face. She gestured at one of the quieter corners of the room with a demure nod of her chin. "You see? They are watching the dancers."
Rodney looked where she indicated, and there was Kanaan, cradling his son so that Torren's face was pointed towards the rest of the hall. The baby didn't look terribly impressed. Teyla smiled at Kanaan, and he made Torren's little hand wave at her. Teyla's smile grew indulgent before she took a sip of her tea, seemingly content to do nothing more than watch the dancers. "I do not recognize this music," she said.
"It's from John's city-state," Rodney explained. "Not that he seems to recognize it either." The dance had changed to a simple ronde, where nearly all the participants had to do was walk in a circle holding hands. John had possibly just broken someone's ankle with his foot, and Rodney wondered idly if he needed to intervene.
"Your Shield is rather...exceptional," Teyla said.
Rodney smirked. "And if by 'exceptional' you mean it's a wonder he hasn't accidentally pushed the queen out a window yet, then yes, I agree." He tried to hide his grin at the casual your Shield by lifting his bowl to his lips, then frowned at it when he remembered it was empty.
"Here," Teyla said, plucking it from his hand. "I will bring you some tea." She nodded at the dancers. "I believe John has decided to no longer be a danger to himself and others," she added deadpan, then glided off as John trotted up to Rodney.
"That was fantastic," John said, throwing an arm around Rodney's waist. He was grinning like a lunatic and there were sparkles on nearly every part of him, including his hair and where they'd stuck to the sweat at his temples. "What?"
Rodney shook his head, smiling helplessly. "You," he said. He slid his arm over John's shoulders, carefully avoiding his wings. He got an armful of sparkle dust anyway. "Congratulations, Shield of Pegasus," he said, leaning close so he could speak quietly and still be heard over the music.
John beamed at him. He wiped his forehead with his palm and then wiped his palm on his tabard. He gave a quick look around the hall. "Is anyone watching us?"
Rodney glanced around with far less stealth than John had. Radek and Elizabeth were dancing together, though Radek gave Rodney a little wave. Carson was descending purposefully on Lorne and his fresh brand, and anyone else who Rodney might actually feel obliged to talk to was either already occupied or nice enough to leave them alone. "I don't think so," he said.
"Great." John grabbed Rodney's wrist and all but dragged him to the nearest balcony, shoving his way through the doors.
A chill breeze hit Rodney instantly, but it had been warm enough in the hall that for the moment it just felt pleasant. "Good idea," he said, taking a deep breath. "I hate having to be polite."
"You were being polite?" John asked. He grinned when Rodney glowered at him. John walked to the rail and put his hands on the smooth stone, then closed his eyes and lifted his face to the night sky. "Spring will be here soon," he said. "Can you smell it?"
"No," Rodney said, but he tried anyway, joining John at the rail and standing the way he was. "No," he said again, more genuinely. He gave a small apologetic shrug. "I think your nose is better than mine."
"I like your nose," John said. He leaned against Rodney, taking deep breaths of the cold air. "It's good to be outside," he said. He looked at Rodney with a wistful expression. "Do you mind if I go flying?"
"What, now?" Rodney asked. He gestured over his shoulder. "But what about everyone in there? All your admirers? They'll wonder what happened to you."
"They'll be thrilled I'm not around to menace their feet," John said. He was smiling in anticipation, ignoring Rodney's lukewarm protest. He shook off his boots then put them neatly together against the wall. Then he pulled his tabard out of his belt and lifted it over his head, then folded it and put it on top of the boots.
"It's freezing out here!" Rodney said. John's torso was pale beneath the starlight. Rodney put his hand on John's chest, purely to make sure he was warm enough. "How much have you had to drink, anyway? Can you even navigate? You have trouble with that when you're sober."
"You slay me," John said. He gestured at his short antennae, what his people called 'horns'. "I'm not drunk, and I've got these. I'll be fine."
"So, go, then," Rodney said when John was still standing there just smiling at him. "Are you sure you're not drunk?"
"Just forgot something," John said. He put his hands gently on either side of Rodney's head and tugged him into a kiss. Rodney happily kissed John back, but he pulled away first.
"Go fly," Rodney said.
John grinned at him, spread his wings, and then launched himself into the sky.