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Author's Chapter Notes: The next chapter will be finally the ending with a lot of sparky spanky, so stay tuned! :-)


Planet of Baccharia, central temple site, early evening (local time)

“Always keep your head up.” This was basically the only advice John Sheppard at any time throughout his life had tried to abide by. He could as good as feel his dad’s hand on his shoulder and hear his old man’s voice inside his mind telling him never to give up.

Sometimes following recommendations meant for the best was easier than at other times.

The last three hours of John’s life had undeniably been of the other times and he had the slight concern that this wouldn’t change now all of a sudden. After having dialed in Atlantis’ gate address John turned around in search for his great companion in this magnificent adventure and was surprised to find almost the whole of the village gathered near the gate.

Yeah, we will miss you, too. John thought sarcastically while bellowing. “McKay? Move it!”

“Finally.” John grumbled crankily as he spotted Rodney approaching. In favor of apathy, Rodney for his part had stopped speaking at all. Somehow at the moment John was certain that as soon as they’d be back in Atlantis Rodney would lock himself in his quarters, lie down on his bed, grab his favorite blankie, assume the position of an embryo and call for his mommy.

John’s joy about Rodney’s appearance, however, remained short lived, because the scientist was followed closely by the female chief of the tribe. Not again. Sigh.

The woman positioned herself in front of John and Rodney and brought her palms together before her chest like she would pray. But instead of calling the Gods, ancients or whoever she started to talk to the “visitors sent by the great Ancestors” as John and Rodney had been christened.

“Here on the sacred ground consecrated to our divine Ancestors …“ John inwardly switched off, he couldn’t hear this ancient blabber anymore. His mind found its way back to the mantra that had helped him through the last hours without shooting anyone. Elizabeth/Atlantis/coffee/Elizabeth/ a shower/ my bed/Elizabeth …

The woman kept giving her solemn farewell speech while a bored John let his eyes wander to the people around him. Unbelievable! These people are crazy. Yet again, or more likely still, most of the locals were high, drunk or both, which increased John’s presentiment that the festivity was everything but over. I want to go home! John shrieked silently. He definitely didn’t think of himself as an innocent preacher’s daughter, but truth be told, the dirty glances these chicks had been and still were gaping at him with made him blush. Always wondered what animals in the zoo must feel like.

On the other hand, nevertheless, John couldn’t tell whose fate was more fatal, his own or Rodney’s. Whereas all the girls were undressing him with their eyes constantly – and there was not much left to undress -, Rodney was avoided because the hand print on his chest symbolized that he belonged to the chief’s son who had been immediately attracted by Rodney and claimed him as his. And the brownie for the most pitiful life in Pegasus goes to … the chief scientist of Atlantis.

John had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost jumped when he became aware of the close proximity he and the woman suddenly were sharing. She raised her right hand to John’s face, but was stopped in the process by John’s grabbing of her wrist. No body contact anymore. Full stop.

“Please, allow me. You’ll be given the sign of sainthood.”

Exhaling noisily, John decided for endurance and surrendered to her intense look. While the chief then was touching John’s forehead to give him the mark she spoke again with her solemn voice. “May the Ancestors be with you. May you know nothing but happiness from this day forward. May you be blessed with a road that leads you to your dreams.”

May you people not be blessed with waterproof colors. John replied dryly to himself. Because if you are and these colors are permanent I’m gonna have to hang myself.

Suddenly the crowds that had assembled around the gate moved apart and a figure appeared. A young boy carrying a tray with three small cups on it walked towards the chief. Please no! This stuff will burn my throat up! The villagers seemed to down the dreadful brew like water, but the smell of it alone made John feel nauseous.

The chief apparently didn’t share John’s concerns. She handed one of the cups to Rodney, one to John and kept the last one to herself. John’s initial reaction would have been to take the cup, drop it and crush it with his … Damn. No boots, no crushing cups. Other options? In the corner of his eye John saw that Rodney was already bringing the cup to his lips, so John decided to literally suck it up. No sense in provoking a riot a minute ahead of departure.

Accordingly, John imitated the chief’s gesture and lifted his cup as well, sent a hurried prayer to whatever higher being there might be to prevent him from throwing up right away and imbibed the liquor at the same time as the chief and Rodney.

While John felt the liquid incinerating his gullet, the locals around him returned to their revel. Something in John almost admired the apparently genetic staying power these people shared, when they took up their screaming and shouting again as music started all over. It didn’t take five seconds until everyone was engaged dancing ecstatically once more.

No, no, never. This is so over. Instantly, the menace of getting colored, being forced to move madly around the fire to strange music and drink more of that acid-stuff became present again. John hastily grabbed Rodney’s arm and pulled him into the gate. But before disappearing through the event horizon at last, John quickly turned around once more, raised his hand and yelled “Goodbye.” God, I hope I’ll never ever have to see any of you again.

---------------------------------------------------

History repeated itself as John found himself again in the middle of a crowd of people a few seconds after leaving the Pegasus version of Woodstock. Only this time he was on the Lantean side of the wormhole. A fact John was truly thankful for. What John was left a lot less thankful for by was that this time it was his appreciated coworkers who were gaping at him. Although their eyes were not filled with hunger, their expressions spoke volumes, volumes of gloating and amusement, pure and simple.

Home, sweet home. John thought dryly as he threw a look around in the gate room. Few of the brilliant people gathered there were just staring bluntly at John and Rodney, while the major part was trying to stifle their laughter, some more effectively than others. Only now John became fully conscious that the style of clothing, or better the lack thereof, which had been dress code on the planet must seem a little strange now. Maybe I should have thought of that five seconds ago. Hopefully nobody here is blessed with a fantasy too vivid.

After everything he had been through in his life, John concluded that now he had reached a whole new quality of humiliation. Congratulations, man! John couldn’t remember having experienced one moment in his life he’d felt more sorry for himself in.

Inhaling deeply, straitening his shoulders John bravely put on an expressionless face and started to move. Rodney’s legs, whose owner still was in his own happy little world without music, colors, alcohol or any sort of humiliation, followed John on their own will.

Though the military commander of Atlantis was rather busy walking through the crowds with as much dignity as possible, which still wasn’t a lot, he couldn’t help but glance at Elizabeth briefly. She was watching him with a face that certainly seemed mostly serious and professional to everybody else. But John knew her well enough to instantly recognize that slight hint of smugness in her eyes. Her eyes also told him silently that she was perfectly aware of his knowing of her thoughts. Damn that evil woman.

Finally having made it out of the gate room hell, John and Rodney both went to their respective rooms without as much as looking at each other or speaking a single word.

If there had ever been a doubt if the way to hell was paved with good intentions, it should've been wiped out now.

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