The Prince / Lessons

[sgarb_mod]

Artist: antares_dw
Title: The Prince
Medium: Manip
Pairing(s): John/Rodney
Notes: Beta: Many thanks to sinaida

Author: shaddyr
Title: Lessons
Wordcount: ~9,200
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): McKay/Sheppard
Summary: New alliances are not exactly what they appear, and in fighting for his team, Sheppard learns a few things he didn't expect.
Notes: Many thanks to outsideth3box for holding my hand through the writing process, beta'ing each bit piecemeal and then giving the whole thing a good once over for me. She sacrificed sleep for several nights in a row to help me get this baby to bed.
Also, many thanks to antares_dw, for the lovely piece of inspirational art that this story was spawned from. Readers, please note, I have absolutely no familiarity with the video game or movie that serves as the source for this art, so don't expect anything that resembles it one whit. Just sayin'.
I've hijacked some earth cultures for this: Counting Coup comes straight from my grade 7 history lessons about the Plains Indians; I discovered the Kurdish term "Peshmerga" for warriors who look death in the eye when I was happily doing writing research. I liked both concepts and have shamelessly used them for my nefarious purposes.





Lessons

McKay scowled, barely repressing a sigh of frustration as he readjusted his scanner. He was trying to nail down a low-level energy reading that had been teasing him all morning, but he was getting nowhere.

He'd had the tour of the town the first time they'd come and there hadn't been much to see. A few anomalies – the tribesmen rode on weird looking, six-legged camel things, but used anti-grav pallets of Ancient design for transporting heavy items. No one could answer any of his questions of course –

"Oh, no, Magician McKay," Deron had answered respectfully, "We do not understand the sorcery of the Ancestors!"

And of course, no matter how strenuously he protested that it was science not magic, they steadfastly insisted that anyone who could fix the anti-grav pallets was a sorcerer, so Magician McKay it had been for their last two visits.

This morning, he'd headed straight over to have a look at a pallet that had been giving Deron trouble the last time they'd been there, while Teyla and Sheppard met with the Erus to get started on negotiations. He'd brought a few spare parts he had suspected would get the pallet back into perfect working order, and he'd been right on the mark.

"What can I say, I'm a genius!" he remarked with a grin a few minutes later when he had the pallet up and running.

"Oh yes," Deron agreed fervently, eyes alight with joy as he stroked the front of the pallet as tenderly as one would a beloved horse. "Magician McKay, this will make our work in harvesting so much faster and easier than it would have been – we will have much to spare for our allies!"

"Mm-hmm," McKay nodded absently, giving the pallet a final scan to make sure the power converter was stable. If the converter failed, it would likely mean the pallet would simply fall to the ground – but there was that miniscule, infinitesimal chance it could explode instead, so he was doing a couple more scans to be sure. That was when he spotted the reading.

"We should go and advise the Erus that our harvest will be bountiful, thanks in part to your help, Magician," Deron continued. "I'm sure that will count favourably for your trade arrangement today."

"Huh," he mumbled, pivoting on the ball of his foot while he held the scanner before him. He swung back and forth several times before settling on a direction - which was right back in the center of camp.

"Is something wrong, Magician?"

He stared at the readout, puzzled. He'd never picked up a reading like this on his previous visits. "No, nothing's wrong," he stated, then straightened up and looked at the other man. "Let's go talk to your Erus."


***


The Erus was suitably pleased with the news of the repairs and what that meant for the harvest. Teyla had smiled beatifically, Sheppard had given his, "aww, shucks, we're happy to oblige" speech, and now the Erus and Viscount Lobal were hammering out the last few details while McKay tried to covertly take a few more scans.

"McKay," growled Ronon from beside him.

"What?" he hissed in annoyance, trying to make sense of readings that defied explanation.

"Stop fidgeting or Sheppard's going to shoot you."

Rodney snapped his head around to look and, sure enough, Sheppard was glaring at him. He scowled back then leaned in to whisper to Ronon.

"Look, I'm *trying* to figure out what the hell is giving off the energy signature I keep reading, but it's impossible to isolate where it's coming from! And there seems to be an echo-"

"McKay."

"What?"

Ronon stared at him. "If you don't shut up, I'll shoot you.

Rodney rolled his eyes and turned away, shifting in his seat to hunch over his scanner. There was a big, swirling mass of indistinct energy readings, right here under his nose, and he was being told to sit down and be quiet.

Finally, the negotiations seemed to be drawing to a close.

"You are a good man, Colonel Sheppard," the Erus remarked. "There are not many who would willingly share the magic of the Ancestors without asking a price first."

Sheppard gave him an easy smile. "Our people believe in a show of good faith, Erus. Even if we didn't come to an agreement, we think it's good to lend a helping hand. We hope others might lend us a hand one day if we need it."

"I have witnessed, first-hand, how the Lanteans live by this principle," Teyla added smoothly.

The Erus stroked his beard thoughtfully. "It is an interesting belief. Whatever your reason, we thank you, which I am sure is evidenced by our concessions over the Fayii berries."

"Indeed," agreed Teyla. "We, in turn, are grateful for your generosity."

"And," Sheppard added, "We look forward to future trade opportunities."

The Erus eyed him speculatively. "As do we."

McKay had just about reached critical mass. "Yes, yes, they're grateful, we're grateful, everyone's grateful, it's a wonderful day, la la la. Sheppard! I need to talk to you for a minute please?"

Sheppard turned to him with the smile that said, Oh, we're so talking about this later.

"Yes, Dr. McKay, certainly," he replied, as he reached out to grab Rodney by the elbow. "Won't you excuse us for a moment?" he nodded to the Erus and double-timed him outside of the tent.

"Ow! Dammit, Sheppard!" McKay protested, finally managing to yank his arm free once they were through the door.

"Rodney," Sheppard snapped, "In case it escaped your notice, we're in the middle of sealing a trade agreement for a lot of fresh food with some very nice people who only want a couple of pallets and lights fixed!" He crossed his arms with a frown. "What's so damn important it couldn't have waited another hour or so?"

Rodney's lips drew into a thin line. "I thought you'd noticed by now that I don't insult the local leader without a good reason!"

"Rodney, I seem to remember last week on PX7-228 when-"

"All right! I *usually* don't insult the leader without a good reason! But you have to admit that pompous windbag on 228 was just begging to be taken down a notch! And he never even noticed he'd been insulted. "

"True," Sheppard conceded, "but my point remains."

"But nothing! This *is* important." Rodney shoved the scanner at Sheppard and pointed out several of the items on the display as he started to explain. "Theses readings indicate there's a power source right here in the settlement. Possibly more than one – it's like they're being muted, or distorted, I can't tell."

Sheppard cocked an eyebrow. "I thought that you said there was nothing here. You didn't detect anything on our last visit.

He nodded. "I didn't! But today, I was scanning specifically for any anomalies in the power convertor on the pallet I fixed – the power source on those things could conceivably overload and cause an explosion that could wipe out this entire settlement, so I wanted to be sure it was stable – and I caught a weird reading. I followed it back here, and it's coming from here."

"Did you see anything in there that looked Ancient?"

"Nothing obvious, but who knows what could have started out as a piece of Ancient tech and been incorporated into some statue or piece of ornamentation? I'd have to go over every inch of the tent."

Sheppard gave him a smirk. "Well, I guess it's time for us to go and admire all the artefacts that the Erus has on display then, isn't it?"


***


"This is the Shield of Syail," the Viscount pointed out as he launched into the story of the Battle of Syailre. He'd been regaling them with the history of each individual piece of armour and weaponry on the wall since Sheppard had asked about one of the pieces at random.

McKay grudgingly admitted that the man was a decent storyteller. Show and tell had been going on for the better part of an hour and he wasn't bored to tears yet. He'd even found himself captivated by the exploits of Erus Arul and how he'd counted coup on a fearsome adversary, ultimately winning a powerful ally. He hadn't gotten any closer to figuring out the readings, unfortunately.

Ronon was showing an avid interest in story hour, asking insightful questions about tactics and offering grunts of approval at tales of derring-do.

"What about those?" Ronon asked, pointing at a dagger and a short sword hanging together on the wall as a center piece. The Viscount glanced at the Erus who smiled.

"Take them down," the leader directed. "This man is clearly a warrior who understands and respects fine weapons."

"As you wish, Erus," the Viscount bowed, then turned to remove the sword and dagger from the wall.

McKay's eyes widened as the Viscount approached Ronon with the weapons. There was a definite increase in the reading as he got closer - small, but noticeable. He glanced over at Sheppard and gave him a nod.

"See how they feel in your hands," the Erus instructed Ronon as he took them from the Viscount. "The balance is perfect. You can fight for hours and not tire."

Ronon gave a few jabs and swipes, whipping the sword and knife around in a variety of holds and positions.

"These are amazing," he said, and McKay could swear there was something akin to awe in his voice. "Where can I get a pair?"

The Erus and Viscount laughed. "I'm afraid that's the only set ever made," the Viscount explained. "It is very old and has been passed from Erus to Erus. Only the Erus or a warrior appointed by him may fight with them.

Ronon looked almost wistful when he handed them back to the Viscount. "You should try them, Sheppard," he said.

"You're more than welcome to do so, Colonel," the Erus agreed, motioning the Viscount to offer the swords to Sheppard.

"I'm not so much a sword kinda guy," he commented as he reached out. "But I did want to ask if you wouldn't mind-"

The moment his hand wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, it lit up with a fiery glow.

"Sheppard!" McKay yelled, taking a step forward only to be stopped by Ronon's arm thrown across his path. Ronon shook his head, his eyes fixed on Sheppard. "He's fine."

McKay scowled and gave up any pretence of stealth as he pulled out his scanner.

Sheppard was a little wary, but apparently unhurt. "I'm fine, Rodney. Just tell me the the nice, shiny glowing knife isn't going to blow up."

"I don't think so..." McKay fiddled with a readout. "Have you tried thinking 'off' at it?"

"I didn't think 'on', so I don't think that'll make a difference..." Sheppard's brows drew together for a moment. "Yeah, no luck there."

The Erus was utterly calm, holding up a hand to silence the Viscount as he spoke while gesturing frantically at Sheppard. "You have nothing to fear, Colonel. Only those few who are greatly favoured by the ancestors are gifted with the full power of the dagger and sword. These warriors are always called for a purpose. Sometimes, it is because of a great peril to the people, and they fight for our victory. Such was the story of the great warrior Syail."

Sheppard looked over at the Viscount. "So when you said Syail fought with blades of fire..."

"He meant actual, glowing blades!" McKay interrupted excitedly. "It's no wonder I never got a reading on these before. They didn't initialize until you touched them. Each of them has an independent power source, and they might have the capacity to function as energy weapons as well as simple blades – possibly even provide limited shielding if the story about Syail is accurate!"

"Magician McKay!" The Viscount snapped in outrage. "The tale of Syail's battle is accurate, and has never been embellished upon!"

The Erus placed a hand on the Viscount's shoulder. "Peace, Lobal. He meant no disrespect." He smiled over at Sheppard. "Your Magician is correct, Colonel. Syail could make the blades sing with power. He was favoured by the ancestors... as you seem to be."

"Colonel, I'm still getting an anomalous reading," McKay interjected. "Even after the initial spike from the initialization settled down, something else is still creating a muted energy field." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. "Maybe if we came back with the Puddlejumper—"

"Magician, please explain," asked the Erus. "What is this magic you speak of?"

McKay held out the scanner for the Erus to see. "It's science, Erus, not magic. I was scanning the pallet earlier, to make sure that it would continue to work safely after we left. I discovered an energy signature that seems to be centred here in your tent," he continued. "I thought when the Colonel touched the dagger and it started glowing that it was the source, but there's something else here too." McKay hesitated a moment, catching first Teyla's then Sheppard's eyes for confirmation before turning back to the Erus. "I don't suppose that you happen to have any Ancient power sources or ZPMs tucked away around here somewhere, do you?"

The Erus and Viscount traded a significant look before the Erus smiled again. "I'm afraid, Magician McKay, that I know little of power sources or ZedPeeEms," he pronounced the words carefully, "but I think perhaps we may have something of interest to you."

He produced a key from a chain around his neck and walked over to an elaborate chest in the centre of the room. Sliding the key into the lock, he turned it, and the loud thunk of tumblers could be heard as the lock released. He lifted the lid and reached inside to pull out a familiar, crystalline shape, glowing brightly with variegated red, orange and gold tones.

McKay had already taken two steps forward, hands outstretched, before Teyla cleared her throat, loudly, breaking his concentration and halting his headlong rush.

The Viscount clasped his hands together. "We have not yet signed the agreement. Perhaps you would care to return to the bargaining table?"


***


"I'm sorry," Sheppard responded, still not quite able to believe the request on the table. "I don't trade my people."

"It's not an unreasonable request, Colonel," the Viscount replied. "Ser Emmagan would greatly benefit our own trade agreements," he went on to explain. "She would be accorded great respect, having a station almost equal to my own. I assure you, we would see to her every need."

Ronon's answer to the request was rather more blatant. "No." He took a position behind Teyla and pulled a stiletto from his hair, carefully picking at his nails with the wickedly sharp knife.

The Viscount swallowed. "But—"

"Lobal," the Erus interrupted, "I do not think it is their way. You must concede on this and accept that you will not convince them with words."

Teyla's demeanour remained calm, but her voice was strained. "While I am honoured that you wish to – acquire – my services, Erus, I must decline. I serve with the Lanteans by my own choice."

"I understand," the Erus nodded. With a sigh, he stood. "Come then, friends. Our negotiations are at an end. We drink to the terms as previously agreed." McKay barely restrained a moan of dismay as he tucked the ZPM back in the chest and locked it up tight.

The Viscount rang a little bell, and moments later, a serving girl brought in a tray with a bottle and a half dozen small glasses. She placed it on the low table, and proceeded to pour a bit of the deep red liquid in to each of the cups. Lifting the tray once more, she offered the tray to each of them, allowing them to select the glass of their choice, before bowing and backing out of the tent.

The Erus lifted his cup. "We've seen a sign that our new ally is favoured by the ancestors. May the agreement we've forged here today lead to a new and exciting future for both our peoples."

With that, the Erus tossed back the contents of his cup in one swallow. Ronon and Teyal drank, and then Sheppard did the same. After a moment, he gave Rodney they nod to drink his. No way to be sure it was totally citrus free, but the basic taste test had saved Rodney an unpleasant reaction at least a half dozen times.

The Erus placed his cup back on the tray and grinned. "Now you can be on your way to the ring of the ancestors so Magician McKay can sleep on his 'chi-ro-prac-tic' bed this night."

"Hey!" McKay protested as Ronon chuckled at the comment. "I need that mattress! I have a bad back!"

Sheppard chuckled at McKay as went to place the glowing dagger back on the wall where it had originally been.

"No, Colonel," the voice of the Erus stopped him.

Sheppard looked over at him. "Excuse me?"

The Erus shook his head. "As I told you earlier, the favoured are always called for a reason. I do not believe that you have been called on behalf of the tribe, so there is some lesson the Ancestors wish you to learn. You must keep the blades until this has happened."

Teyla interjected. "Erus, Colonel Sheppard has responsibilities back on Atlantis that he must return to. He cannot remain here."

"And he may do so, but he must carry the blades from this point forward until the Will of the Ancestors has been revealed."

Before Sheppard could voice a protest, the Viscount had produced a leather baldric with a scabbard attached. "You'll need to remove your vest and jacket to put this on, Colonel," the Viscount advised as he stepped forward with the clear intention of assisting him to do so.

"I can't just take your royal blades, Erus," Sheppard protested, backing away from the Viscount. "I don't know when we'll be back. Plus, my Glock and P90 have gotten me through a lot of tough lessons so far."

"Please, Colonel! I insist," the Erus replied. "It does not bode well to defy the ancestors. And I am certain that we shall see one another again very soon."

Sheppard sighed and started undoing the buckles on his tac vest while Ronon snickered quietly.



***


"It's a stupid place to carry a sword for active fighting."

Sheppard twisted, trying to get comfortable with the unfamiliar weight of the scabbard across his back as McKay and Ronon bickered.

"That's how Mel Gibson carried it in Braveheart."

Ronon snorted. "That was a movie, McKay. Aren't you the one always saying not to trust anything you see in the movies?"

"Well, I saw you carry your sword like that!"

"Exactly. Carry. For travel. Not for fighting."

Teyla shared a look of amusement with Sheppard.

"What do you think about this whole blades-of-fire, will-of-the-ancestors thing, Teyla?"

She looked pensive as they walked, seriously considering the question. "I believe that, for all of your people's understanding of the technology and machinery the Ancients left behind, there are some things that your science cannot explain," she finally replied. "The Erus believes that the ancestors have favoured you. I cannot say that I disagree with that assessment."

Sheppard gave her a surprised look. "Really?"

Teyla nodded. "Clearly, the technology within the dagger is activated by your gene. But, does that preclude the possibility that the ancestors may, in fact, have favoured you? Called you? Used you to fulfill their purposes? Or perhaps, even have a lesson in store for you?"

"Oh, come on!" McKay derided scornfully as they reached the DHD. "There are no higher purposes in the glowy lights. The ancestors are either ascended and off doing ascended things – like not interfering with mere human beings – or they're dust."

Teyla shook her head and started the dialling sequence. "You cannot argue with my experience of the truth, Rodney," she chided gently. "There is more to our reality than what you can see with your eyes and measure with your sensors."

The noise of approaching riders reached them as the kwoosh filled the ring.

"Ser Emmagan! Ser Emmagan!" called out the Viscount as he rapidly approached.

Ronon quickly stepped in front of Teyal, blocking the other man's approach.

"Is there a problem?" asked Sheppard, feeling a little nervous at the sudden appearance of the Viscount. They were this close to a dinner, a debrief and bed, and he was getting a bad feeling.

The Viscount reigned in his mount and slid to the ground, stopping only to pull a scroll of paper from the saddlebag. "I apologize, Ser Emmagan! I am so glad to have caught you! I need you to approve several minor corrections or our entire night was for naught!" The man eyed Ronon nervously. "It should only take a moment. May I approach?"

Ronon stood fast and barred his teeth. Teyla rolled her eyes and walked out from behind him. "I will be happy to approve the corrections if they do not alter the agreement, Viscount."

The man smiled, visibly relieved and began to unspool the scroll. He pointed to a spot on the document and Teyal leaned in to look closer.

McKay let out a put upon sigh. He just wanted to get home. While Sheppard sent the IDC and radioed Atlantis, he rolled his neck to loosen the stiff muscles. It was by complete fluke that when his head was tilted off to the side he happened to spot someone in the woods to the side of the gate.

"Sheppard!" he shouted in alarm as he reached for his side arm, but before he could pull the Beretta free, he was tackled hard and pinned to the ground. He felt a cold prick at the back of his neck, and his limbs all went rubbery. He couldn't lift a hand to fight, couldn't kick, couldn't even speak –"Shhh...SHhhh!"

Suddenly gentle hands were turning him, propping him up against the DHD. From this sitting position, he could see that Sheppard was in the same condition he was. Ronon seemed to still have some fight left in him, but he was on his knees, one hand on the ground before him, the other struggling to lift his blaster. Rodney mentally screamed at him to fight, but he slowly crumpled to the ground.

As he watched, the warriors who had attacked them carefully lifted Ronon and carried him up the steps to the Stargate. His eyes were wild, and his hands were twitching spastically. As Rodney watched, they rolled him through the gate, then stepped out of the way as several more warriors carried Sheppard to the gate. Rodney caught Sheppard's gaze, and the desperation in the Colonel's face matched his own. A moment later the contact was broken and Sheppard was being rolled through the gate as well.

He was starting to feel a tingle in his fingers and toes, and tried to lift his arm. It was clumsy, but he was getting a modicum of his gross motor control back – not that it looked like it would do him, or Teyla, any good at this point. He saw boots enter his line of site and was able to tilt his head back to see Lobal.

"Why?" he croaked out, flailing an arm since it was all he could do to express his rage at the moment.

"Ahh, Magician McKay," Lobal shook his head with a sigh. "Sometimes the Will of the Ancestors is a strange thing. I am but a humble servant of the Erus, and I trust his interpretation of the signs."

"Tey... Teyla!" he managed.

The other man smiled. "Oh, do not worry for Ser Emmagen, Magician. She is an honoured guest and will be afforded every luxury and courtesy we are able to provide."

The Viscount had an object wrapped in a soft blanket that he placed in the crook of his still mostly useless arm. He carefully tucked McKay's hand around it. "The Erus decreed that you should have this gift, Magician." The Viscount stepped back and motioned for the warriors to assist McKay to his feet. He felt a little steadier – he could almost walk, and he could just barely manage to keep his grasp on the package in his arms.

Just before they pushed him through the gate, the men supporting him stopped and he heard the Viscount say, "Please tell Colonel Sheppard that the Erus looks forward to your soon return."


***


Rodney's expression was mournful. "But... a ZPM. And it's fully charged! Oh, it's just not FAIR!"

Ronon growled and McKay gave him a scornful glance. "Oh, please, don't give me that look. I'd never trade Teyla for anything. Not even a ZPM, as much as it pains me." He turned a speculatively glance at Woolsey. "Hey, do you think they'd be willing to trade for one of the squishy scientists instead? I can think of at least three or four of them we'd never miss."

"Dr. McKay, the SGC does not permit the trafficking of humans for alien technology."

"Are you sure we can't make an exception just this once?"

Sheppard had had enough. "Focus, Rodney!" he demanded. "What else did he say?"

"Was I not clear the first time?" McKay fumed. "After he tucked the ZPM in my arms, he said that the Erus looks forward to our soon return."

Woolsey was intrigued. "That's a very interesting statement," he said thoughtfully before continuing. "In fact, it almost makes sense Colonel, in light of the fact you are, in their eyes, favoured by the ancestors and essentially on a quest with what are, for all intents and purposes, a set of holy blades."

Sheppard looked at him askance. "How does this make sense in any sane universe?"

"Doesn't matter," Ronon replied as he rechecked the power module on his blaster. "Sane or insane, he's just as dead when I'm done with him."

McKay rolled his eyes. "Oh, because rushing in, guns blazing, is always the answer in your universe!" he scoffed. "Did you forget the amazing knockout potion of doom that dropped you on your ass? I think we need a plan with a bit more stealth."

"Gentlemen, please..." Woolsey interjected, trying to rein them in, with little success.

"Look," Sheppard said, arms crossed over his chest, "it's simple. We take two jumpers, two tactical teams. We know the layout, the numbers, and we have superior tech. We make a precision tactical strike, and we'll be out in 10 minutes tops with minimum casualties." He waved a hand in the air. "Heck, I'm even willing to say we should use wraith stunners to avoid casualties completely."

Ronon glanced over at him. "I'm good with casualties."

"That is quite enough!" Woolsey's voice cut across the ruckus. "If the three of you would be so kind as to actually pay attention for a moment, I would like to give you my analysis of the situation. Or do you need a few more minutes of testosterone soaked posturing before you are able to do so?"

Sheppard slouched back in his chair. "Please," he gestured to indicate he was conceding the floor. "I'm all ears."

"Thank you. Now, I understand from what you described earlier, the Viscount told stories of historic battles, including an Erus in the past who counted coup upon a very powerful adversary who ultimately became a close ally."

Sheppard nodded. "That sounds about right."

"Well, typically, in Earth cultures, counting coup would entail performing acts of bravery in the face of the enemy and escaping unharmed. However, it also could involve stealing from one's opponent. The ultimate goal was the glory of winning tokens and recognition for one's bravery. However, it seems as though in this culture, counting coup isn't something you do to win recognition against an enemy; instead, it's being done to test the resolve of a powerful, potential ally."

"Are you saying that..." Sheppard stopped. "What are you saying?"

McKay had a look of dawning comprehension. "He's saying that you have to go and fight to get Teyla back."

Ronon gave him a look. "We already knew that part."

McKay let out a sigh. "Without killing anyone."

"Oh." Ronon thought about it for a moment. "Is maiming okay?"

Woolsey removed his glasses for a moment to clean them, then took a deep breath and put them back on.

"No, Ronon. Maiming would definitely be counterproductive in this situation. I believe that it is only Colonel Sheppard who will be called to fight at all, and likely in some form of ritual or stylized combat."

"All right then," Sheppard spoke decisively, rising to his feet. "15 minutes to gear up and we'll head back tonight."

"What?" exclaimed McKay."

"I'm afraid not, Colonel," Woolsey disagreed with a shake of his head. "You can head back in the morning."

Sheppard stiffened. "I'm not leaving one of my people in hostile hands when there is nothing to stop us from going back immediately."

"You've been going for 20 hours straight. You've just concluded a lengthy negotiation and recovered from being drugged with an alien substance. You have indicated that you do not believe that Teyla is in any real danger. The Erus has extended an invitation for you to return. I am making the call that Teyla would be best served by you and your team getting a good night's rest and heading out first thing tomorrow."

"I'm the military leader of Atlantis," Sheppard ground out, "and in my opinion, the situation calls for immediate action."

Woolsey pulled himself to his full height and stared back at Sheppard, unfazed. "As the head of the entire Atlantis expedition, I'm informing you that this situation is not military – it is political. And as such, I have the final word. Get some sleep, Colonel. If it helps, consider that an order." With that, he gathered up his notebook and coffee and left the briefing room.

Ronon rose and slipped his blaster into the holster as walked toward the door. He stopped to glance at Sheppard. "Run at 0530?" After Sheppard gave him a nod, he continued out the door.

McKay fidgeted in his seat, watching Sheppard as he slouched in his chair, brooding. He started to speak, then stopped, started again, and stopped once more.

"What?" came the weary question from Sheppard.

"Well, I was just thinking that if you're supposed to be in some kind of ritual fight with these holy fire swords, you might want to try to figure out what they can do? Since you can't do what you really want to do, we can do the next best thing."

Sheppard looked over at McKay, his expression part curious, part concerned, and smiled slightly in spite of his foul mood. Trust Rodney to find the one gold nugget in the whole mess and run with it.

"Firing range?"

"Naw, my lab. I can get some scans while we're at it."



***


"What I don't understand is how kidnapping Teyla makes us better friends," Sheppard bit out as he tried to focus on controlling the energy surging through the knife. It kept slipping away on him, leaking around his control. "Gah! This is like trying to hold water!" he grumbled.

"It's amazing," McKay remarked, taking new scans with every attempt. "It looks like the Goa'uld hand devices were modeled on this technology - and from what I understand, it takes time and practise to master those. Try again," he encouraged, as he recalibrated the sensor.

Sheppard gamely raised the knife, pointing it at the Ancient equivalent of a cement wall. He could feel the potential energy building and tried to shape it to his will, mentally reaching out the way he did for Atlantis's systems. The harder he tried to grasp it, the more it skittered away from him.

"And I don't think it's supposed to make us better friends. I think that, as the 'Favoured of the Ancestors', you have to go and engage in some ritual combat or reading of tea leaves or interpretive dance to prove we're worthy allies. Or something like that, I don't know. I'm not a squishy scientist. Hey, hey, these readings are peaking off the scale – JOHN!"

"Dammit!" Sheppard yelled as all the anger, frustration and helplessness he felt bubbled up and he threw the knife as hard as he could at the wall – and for the first time, he felt energy, like fire racing through the his finger tips until he actually released the knife, but the pulse had already been released. The wall exploded in a shower of dust and debris, the loud crash reverberating down the hall as shockwaves set off emergency protocols through the entire section.

McKay crawled out from under a table and surveyed the damage. Sheppard walked over to retrieve the knife – amazingly, none the worse for wear.

"So, I'm thinking that patience is probably not what the ancestors are trying to teach you."

"I've always been an action kinda guy."

"You don't say." McKay looked at the remnants of the wall before his gaze returned to the dagger. "I wonder if you need to have a more immediate impulse to make it work. Like, say, being shot at to activate the shielding capability."

"How do we test that out without me ending up shot if it doesn't work?" Sheppard asked.

"How do we test it out without me ending up fried if you do *that* again?" McKay gestured at the smoking pile of rubble.

"Well, I suppose I could wear some Kevlar. If it doesn't work and you do actually shoot me, I can't promise I won't be pissed off though. Maybe I could get Lorne to shoot me instead," he mused.

"Oh I'm sure he'd love to write that report. '2300 hours: went to Dr. McKay's Lab and shot my commanding officer.' "

Sheppard made a face. "Well, just make sure you shoot straight."



***


They discovered that clear and present danger made things easier because Sheppard stopped trying so hard to control the energy flow and just did it. It was definitely something that required practise – while he was able to deflect a bullet coming straight at him, he could barely slow it down when attempting to extend a shield in front of another object. Every time he deliberately tried to exert his control, it either skittered away on him again or his frustration ratcheted up and the results were spectacularly unpredictable. The tally was 2 laptops and 3 backup server towers so far.

Sheppard yawned and looked at the clock. 2527 hours. He groaned as he contemplated his morning jog with Ronon. He really needed some sack time. "Time to pack it up, Rodney," he said as he slid the knife into the sheath at his hip.

"Hmm?" McKay responded absently, watching the readouts on the computer screen.

"C'mon buddy," said Sheppard, giving McKay a clap on the shoulder. "Get some rest. We're rolling out of here at 0700."

Mckay wrinkled up his face in distaste as he shut down his workstation. "And are you going to get any sleep?" he demanded, already knowing the answer.

"Those are my orders," Sheppard hedged.

McKay rose from his chair and turned to face Sheppard uncertainly. "You could always... I wouldn't mind..." the words tumbled out awkward and unsure. "I mean, you don't have to be... alone. Tonight," he finished, looking at the floor.

"Uhm..." Sheppard blinked with surprise and felt the cold knot of fury he'd been carrying in his gut since PX7 loosen a bit. This was different than a quickie in the closet or a midnight visit to Rodney's quarters. It wasn't like they'd ever talked about this thing between them, more than "Do you wanna?", but Rodney had never given any indication he might be interested in more than the occasional handjob or blowjob. John certainly was, but he hadn't wanted to push, and now he realized that maybe Rodney wanted more from him too. As he watched, he saw Rodney's shoulders slump a bit, and realized he'd waited too long to speak.

"Or, maybe you do," Rodney continued, starting to turn away.

Sheppard reached out and placed and hand on his arm. "Yeah. I mean, no. I'd rather... not be." he replied.

Rodney looked up at him, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. "Yeah? Okay. Okay then."

With that, they left the lab and headed to their quarters. They walked silently, nodding at the few personal they ran into along the way. When they finally came to Rodney's door, Sheppard entered without hesitation, and started stripping down by the bed while McKay went to use the bathroom. He was down to his boxers and t-shirt when McKay came out, and then he took his turn, washing up and then using Rodney's toothbrush. After swapping spit, blood and other bodily fluids, even Rodney had gotten over being squeamish about a toothbrush.

He walked back into the other room to find Rodney already settled on the bed. He hesitated for a moment, finding the situation somewhat surreal; their teammate was currently in the hands of their possibly allies, he was apparently chosen for some kind of ritual involving holy knives, and his - boyfriend? - had just invited him to spend the night for the first time.

He shook his head with a rueful grin and padded across the room to climb into an already warmed bed. He wriggled in to get a little closer, then finally settled on his side, back to Rodney's chest. Rodney's arm slid around him, leaving him feeling unexpectedly safe and secure. He could also feel Rodney's erection snugged up against his ass, and though he was really kind of tired, he pushed back against it.

"Do you wanna?" he asked quietly.

He felt the arm around him tighten, and Rodney's lips on the back of his neck. "Do you wanna?" he asked back, making no move to continue.

Sheppard yawned in spite of himself, and Rodney chuckled. "Well, there's our answer. Go to sleep, John."


***


It was strange to be walking the same path they'd walked yesterday morning, only this time just the three of them, here to collect their kidnapped team member. He felt more than a little naked with only Ronon and McKay for backup.

He'd fought in favour of taking a squad of marines on a cloaked Puddlejumper, but Woolsey had been adamant that bringing a squad would be 'bad form' and would defeat the whole purpose of what the Erus was trying to achieve. Then he'd started spouting off about how the anthropologists had found parallels between this situation and a mission another SG team had been on years ago. Rodney had comeback with a few cutting remarks about soft scientists and as the tension in him grew, Sheppard had realized he was unintentionally triggering an energy build up in the knife as well.

After a quick explanation of why he quite literally needed to leave the room before things started to explode, Woolsey had hastily sent them on their way. And here they were, half way to the settlement and Sheppard still didn't have a clue what was going to happen or how he should handle it. He sighed as he reflected that no amount of Feyii berries were worth this.

Ronon froze, motioning for them to stop as he whipping out his blaster. A moment later, Sheppard could hear the sound of riders approaching, and he readied his own weapon. Seconds later, the Viscount and several of the warriors he recognized from the previous day approached.

"Ah, Colonel! Magician McKay!" he greeted them with a smile. "And of course, Warrior Ronon!" He gave the Satedan wider berth.

"Viscount," Sheppard nodded, P90 at the ready. "We're here to retrieve our Teammate. If you would be so kind as to take us to her so we can collect her, we'll be on our way."

The Viscount frowned. "Ser Emmagan is no longer your concern, Colonel Sheppard. She is a member of the Erus's court. Are you here to place a challenge?"

"Ser Emmagan is most definitely my concern, Viscount, and if placing a challenge is what it takes to get her back, then consider one placed.

The Viscount clapped his hands together, a joyous smile spreading across his face. "Excellent! Please come! We will have you and your magician prepared for the trials that await. The Erus is anxiously awaiting the outcome –" The Viscount lowered his voice conspiratorially. "He favours you as the champion, though he cannot come out and say so."

"Hold on, wait!" McKay protested. "Trials? What trials? I'm not a warrior, I'm terrible at trials! Just ask the Colonel!" he blathered nervously.

The Viscount laughed. "You have nothing to fear, Magician. Your skills with the relics the ancestors left behind are what you will use to assist the Colonel in his trials. Enough talk – come!"

With that, the party turned back the way they had come, leaving the team no choice but to follow.


***


"Why are there always stupid costumes involved?" McKay whined as he cinched the belt for the tunic.

Sheppard didn't answer him, too busy examining the leather and metal breastplate to come up with a response. He wasn't quite sure if he was supposed to unbuckle the front and put it on in pieces or try to slip the whole thing over his head. He started to undo the metal buckles.

Suddenly Rodney was right beside him. "Here," he demanded gruffly, gentle hands belying his tone. "You're going to strangle yourself trying to get this on alone," he groused as he aligned it. "Lift your arms."

Sheppard did, and Rodney deftly slipped it into place, smoothing out the places where it bunched up, then tightened the buckles until the breastplate fit like a second skin. He could feel the heat of Rodney's hands through the leather. "Thanks," he said, voice low and unsteady.

Rodney took a step back, face flushed. "You're welcome," he replied in the same tone, before clearing his throat and turning away to snag the metal studded arm bands and bracer. "Here," he said handing them to Sheppard before crossing the room to retrieve his outer robe as Sheppard snapped the arm pieces in place.

When McKay turned back to him, Sheppard grinned.

"What?" demanded Rodney, glancing down at his outfit.

"You look like something out of Arabian nights, that's all. A real court magician."

"Yeah well, you look like something out of Prince of Persia," he snapped back, arms crossed.

Sheppard smirked. "Prince Dustan is kind of sexy."

Rodney's face flushed. "I wasn't going to say that!"

He took a step closer. "I don't mind if you think of me as sexy, Rodney," he said quietly. "I think of you like that." With a sigh, he stepped back and grabbed the baldric and scabbard from the back of the chair and strapped them in place.

"Well, let's go see what the Erus has in store for us, shall we?"



***


It seemed pretty straightforward at first. They were led to a large oval with many of the tribe's people gathered around it. There were various weapons and several hulky looking warriors off to the side. A covered, raised platform on one side held chairs for dignitaries like the Viscount and the Erus, and Ronon was seated there as well, looking none too pleased with being merely a spectator. Beside him sat Teyla, wearing a getup that would put Scheherazade to shame. Their escort left them in the oval, right in front of the platform, facing the Erus.

"Colonel Sheppard! We are please that you have returned!" The Erus spoke loudly, his voice carrying across the oval. "My Viscount has informed me you are here to place a challenge."

Sheppard glanced up at Teyla. She didn't look relaxed, exactly, but she smiled at him and nodded encouragingly. He switched his gaze to the Erus. "I've come for Teyla. I want her back."

A murmur arose from the crowd, as the Erus frowned. "Ser Emmagan is now a member of my court. And I believe that you have been gifted with a ZedPeeEm as fair bargain price."

Sheppard nodded at Rodney, who stepped forward and pulled the ZPM from the shoulder bag he carried and placed it at the Erus's feet. "I told you once before - we don't trade our people. Ser Emmagan is a member of my team, and we're not leaving without her."

The Erus rose to his feet, clasped his hands before him and bowed to Sheppard. He was at a loss for a moment, but then caught sight of Teyla motioning for him to do the same, and he followed suit. A moment later the Erus straightened and then gestured expansively.

"Your challenge has been accepted. There are 3 trials that you must overcome. Are you prepared?"

Sheppard looked at him grimly. "I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be."


***


The first trial was pretty much exactly what Sheppard was expecting – he was pitted against a towering hulk of a man he mentally dubbed as Bubba. The guy was built like a tank and his punch was like being hit by a Mac truck, but he didn't know how to fight dirty and he'd never had to spar with Ronon. Eventually Sheppard wore him down and finally landed a hit that he didn't get up from.

Somewhere a gong was struck and the crowd around them went wild as Sheppard made his way to where McKay was anxiously waiting, on a similar covered platform just down from the Erus. He gratefully sank down into one of the chairs as McKay jumped to his feet and grabbed the med kit he'd stashed in the shoulder bag.

"I swear that guy could have been a stand in for the Jolly Green Giant," he grumbled as he tried to wipe the blood away from Sheppard's nose. Sheppard flinched and grabbed the wipe.

"I'm fine, Rodney," he said wiping at his nose and the corner of his lip. He could feel his left eye swelling shut, and it was just possible he might have a cracked rib, but he really was fine. So far.

"I'm supposed to be here to help you, but I haven't got a clue how."

The gong sounded again much too soon, and Sheppard climbed to his feet. "Maybe you help with round two. Let's find out."


***


McKay studied the scroll intently.

"So?"

"So," McKay replied slowly, "I'm not fluent in Ancient. That was Elizabeth," he answered, frustration colouring his tone. "But, I think that this might just be a transcription of the instructions on how to operate your knife."

Sheppard's eyes widened. "That's great!"

McKay fixed him with a glare, scroll still held out before him. "That's great if you can read Ancient! Which I only sort of can! And mostly the technical stuff like... oh this, here, where it's describing the power conversion mechanism, I can read that..."

The Erus's voice rang out. "The second trial begins."

Five warriors, all just as big and intimidating as the first one, stepped into the oval and drew their swords.

"Rodney..." Sheppard's voice took on an anxious edge.

"I'm trying, I'm trying! Oh! Here! I think this says to channel – wow, that sounds new age hocus pocus – to channel the energy, relaxation – no wait, meditation – is key. So.. relax and become one with the energy?"

Sheppard gave him an incredulous look.

"I'm SORRY! I'm not a linguist! I apologize for not being a squishy scientist and that's just so wrong!"

The warriors were almost there. "Keep trying, Rodney," he ordered and pulled the sword and knife, feeling the power build up match his anxiety level.

"Working on it," Rodney yelled back. "Just... don't blow anyone up!" he added as he desperately scanned the parchment.

Sheppard was really grateful he'd let Rodney talk him into testing the blades out. Even though he still had very little idea what he was doing, he had just enough control to blast holes in the ground in front of the warriors instead of blasting the men themselves. He had them in such disarray he was only really fighting one or two of them at a time. It was incredibly taxing though, trying to focus the power, rein it in instead of just letting it all out in one great big, killing blast like the one that he'd accidentally released in the lab. He didn't want to kill anyone – he just wanted Teyla back.

Rodney kept shouting things that he was translating on the fly. Some of them helped – mostly, it was just too crazy with being attacked on all sides to really concentrate on what Rodney was saying. He'd managed to take out three of the fighters – he was sure they all had concussions from being thrown half across the oval by the shockwave he created entirely by accident – but he had several glancing cuts to his arms and a more serious one on his leg. His two remaining opponents rushed him from opposite sides and he knew with cold certainty that he would only be able to stop one of them. He gathered up the energy as best he could and braced for the attack when the gong was struck, and suddenly both of them stopped, bowed to him, and turned to walk off the field.

Sheppard let his arms fall limp at his sides, sweat streaming down his body as he staggered back to the platform where McKay sat. Rodney ran out into the oval to help him, slipping an arm under his and around his back, helping him the rest of the way. He eased him into a chair, taking the knife and short sword from him and placing them on a small table. He grabbed his canteen and lifted it to Sheppard's lips.

"C'mon John," McKay cajoled, his face tight with worry. "You need to drink something."

Sheppard managed a sip, and then another. He hadn't realized he was so thirsty.

"This is crazy," McKay muttered. "No one can stand up to this kind of abuse, what kind of challenge is this?"

"Gotta get Teyla back," Sheppard ground out before taking another sip.

"Of course we do," McKay agreed. "But not by killing you."

"I'll be fine."

"God dammit, John – "

The gong rang.


***


Sheppard crawled back to consciousness to find himself flat on his back on hard, rocky ground. He squinted up at the bright sky, trying to remember where he was, or how he got there. Then the pain flared through him and it all came rushing back.

"Teyla!" he gasped, and rolled to his side, struggling to his hands and knees, trying to get to his feet. A heavy fist slammed down on his shoulders, knocking him flat again.

He could hear Rodney yelling in the background, screaming how they were going to kill him, to just stay down. He could hear Ronon shouting, and Teyla – he could hear her too. Teyla. He had to get up for Teyla.

Everything was pain – radiating through his shoulder to his fingertips, down his back to his toes – his head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, but he forced himself up again.

"HOLD!"

He was dimly aware of the Erus squatting down beside him. Still on his hands and knees, he raised his head to look the other man in the face.

"You have not yet mastered the skill of using the blades of fire as a shield. You are injured and faltering – you cannot continue."

Sheppard shook his head. "Not... leaving... without... Teyla," he panted.

"If you persist in this battle, you will die. There would be no shame in giving up."

Sheppard hung his head. The third trial had pretty much been death by stoning. He'd dodged a lot of the rocks, and managed to shield against some of them, but there was just too many, too fast, and he'd caught one right on the head, which was why he'd woken up confused in the middle of the field. But it didn't matter. He couldn't quit. "No."

The Erus nodded at him and then stood to face the crowd.

"Colonel Sheppard has favoured by the Ancestors. His touch has caused the blades of fire sing for the first time in generations. He has chosen to challenge Our acquisition of Ser Emmagan. He has faced the three trials - and he has fallen."

Sheppard's fingers dug into the dirt beneath him as shame filed him. He'd failed. It had all been for nothing.

"The Colonel is a brave warrior, but now he has proven that he is Peshmerga, a warrior who will face death and look it in the eye." As the gathered crowd broke into shouts of celebration, the Erus squatted back down beside Sheppard. "Colonel, the end result of your trials is much less important than the way that you faced them. We declare your trials ended and grant your request. Ser Emmagan is free to accompany you when you leave."

It got a little fuzzy right after that as his brain tried to process the fact that, no, he hadn't failed, he wasn't going to be stoned to death after all and, hey, Teyla was coming home! Suddenly he was being pulled to his feet – Ronon of course – and there were firm hands checking him over for damage – Rodney, with a running commentary on concussions and brain injury – and then Teyla was standing there, her hands on his arms, tilting her face to bring their foreheads gently together.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"John, you have no reason to be sorry. As strange as it may seem, I am grateful that this happened. This alliance will strengthen our position within the Pegasus Coalition. The Erus, though not on the council, is quite an influential trading partner, and he has the ear of many. Do not let the fact that these people regard Ancient technology as magic lead you to think that they are primitive."

With one final squeeze to his shoulders, Teyal pulled away. John managed to remain upright only because Ronon was still mostly supporting him. He saw the Erus was still standing nearby, and Teyla leaned in to murmur, "You must formally acknowledge your new rank as Peshmerga and thank him for his judgement."

He stepped away from Ronon's support long enough to make it formal and thank the Erus for all to hear. The Erus smiled and extended his arm. Sheppard did likewise, mirroring the other man's grasp of his forearm.

"So now, having faced death at our hands, we ask you to face life as well, allies and partners." The Erus released his arm and grinned. "I believe, Colonel, the ancestors have taught you a great deal in a very short time."

Sheppard thought about that. Sometimes it felt like Pegasus was one great, huge learning curve and you either kept up or you were dead. The last 27 hours had pretty much been more of them same, except for one notable difference – learning that maybe there was someone who wanted to share those lessons with him. He glanced over to find Rodney watching him, and he smiled.

"I'm looking forward to see what they have to teach me next."


~fin

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