Work Text:
Excerpts from Sam Robinson's Journal
I finally have a place where I can lock up this journal. Ben says keeping one can be beneficial, particularly in difficult circumstances, and he promised not to use his key to get it out and read it unless he has reason to believe that I'm in grave danger and he needs to hunt for clues. Ray promised, too, but he looked like he'd really like to read it. I don't know why—it's not like I have any big secrets. I just want a place where I can say what I want without getting a hard time about it. If I had any big secrets, Ray could get them out of me in about 3 seconds. It's no secret to anybody that Sarah's been a real bitch, this week. If she wants to run away, again, that's fine. Too bad Ben would go and get her back. She should try living in a few foster homes where nobody wants you.
Bad dreams last night: ugly ghost spirits with white hair and green skin. I think there was a white bird dream before the bad one.
...
One week until the trip to Edmonton. I hope the weather's good enough that we can see what we fly over. And I hope nobody gets sick, this time.
I had another bad dream: Someone took Robbie away and made Andy into a slave and Eddie tried to stop them and I yelled, "Go back, go back," but Eddie kept trying and got stabbed. His blood was all over the floor, and I couldn't move at all. I hate dreams like that. Ben found me when I got up to get a drink of water, and when I told him about the dream, he said that sometimes dreams are our minds' way of trying to figure out what to do. I said what about spirit dreams that shamans have? He said he didn't know for sure how to tell a spirit dream from an ordinary dream, but that he'd take me to ask Joe Aua the shaman about it, after we get back from Edmonton.
...
Two days until our trip to Edmonton starts. Should be cool; we'll probably have time to see at least three museums. Andy might get to go to the symphony—he'd LOVE that. I hope Sarah doesn't screw up the trip for all of us.
Dreamed about the green-faced ghosts, again. This time, there was a brown-and-white bird first, and then the ghosts came through a circle made of water, and I tried to get everyone away but one of them caught me and I started getting smaller and smaller. Another one caught Robbie and he screamed. That woke me up. I wish there was time to talk to Joe Aua about the dreams before we leave, but there isn't.
Henry and his dad are going to take care of the dogs while we're gone. That should be OK—they know how and they take good care of their own dogs.
...
We leave today. The weather is only partly cloudy, so hopefully we'll be able to see the ground from the plane at least part of the time.
No ghosts in my dreams, last night, but I saw the brown-and-white bird turn almost all white, and then Robbie walked into a circle of water like the ghosts came out of, and in the dream I knew he wouldn't come back.
If I keep dreaming about the same kind of bird, is it a spirit guide? Why can't I do anything in these dreams? Would a real shaman be able to stop the ghosts and get everybody away from the circle of water?
Excerpt from a letter to Stella Vecchio:
So there we were, stuck in the Edmonton freakin' airport with a three-day blizzard going on outside. I mean, you could hear it, even over all the airport noise. And we got a hotel reservation, but it was across town. So, Ben called up this guy he knows, Clarence, and thank God the phones were working, or we'd have been sleeping on the floor of the airport, and we hadn't exactly brought our sleeping bags. I was too old for that shit even before I had six kids.
Where was I? Clarence, right—turns out that Clarence drives a school-bus part-time, and that's how we're going to get to the hotel. But he ain't gonna be setting any speed records getting to the airport, 'cause of all the snow. So we gotta keep ourselves more or less together 'til Clarence gets there with the bus, and really, the kids were doing pretty good, and we rounded up the baggage, and Ben didn't look any more worried than usual, but the next time I counted noses, Sarah had disappeared. You can imagine what a thrill that was.
So, we're pulling this enormous cart full of baggage, and Sam's holding onto Robbie and Andy, and Holly's keeping Eddie herded in the right direction, and we all go hunting for Sarah together, because fucked if I'll lose anyone else, and, anyway, Clarence has the cell phone number so he can call us when he gets there. So Sarah's not in the food places or the gift shops and Holly checks the closest restroom and Sarah's not there, either, and Ben and me are arguing about whether to try paging her, and Ben's asking everybody in sight if they've seen anybody like Sarah, and one of the guys he asks is this thin guy with dark hair, carrying a little girl on his hip, about the size Robbie was when you visited us. So Ben asks this guy if he's seen Sarah, which the guy hasn't, but he don't mind keeping an eye out for her.
And then this other guy comes up, like a magazine ad for body-building, only with dreadlocks and a flannel shirt, and he has a baggage cart with even more stuff on it than we have.
And the guy with the kid says, "Got it all?" to the guy with the dreadlocks.
And muscle guy nods and grunts and says, "The boys?"
And dark guy says, "In there," tipping his head at the room with the ball-pit and arcade games that we already had to drag Eddie out of. Twice.
And muscle guy says, "Shall I?"
And dark guy says, "Might as well wait 'til Rodney and Teyla find us. There are games in there—Jace and Drew will work off a little energy." And muscle guy raises an eyebrow, and dark guy says, "Go ahead and look if you want. And, hey, these guys are looking for—what? Your daughter, right?"
And I say, real quick, "Dark hair, so tall, just old enough to hate the whole world."
And muscles says, "Got it."
And the other guy says, "Hold on, here come Rodney and Teyla," and up comes this stocky guy with a seriously pissed-off expression and a woman who's probably only 10 years or so younger than us but would have five guys trying to buy her drinks if she walked into Walt's tavern on a Saturday night. Five guys at least.
Muscles looks at the stocky guy and the woman and says, "Well?" Big conversationalist, that guy.
And the woman says, "Rodney has arranged lodgings for us, but transportation is proving more difficult."
The guy with the little girl hands her to the woman, but he's looking at the stocky guy, and he says, "Rodney, are you OK?"
And Rodney cuts loose, like, "OK? Seriously? Do I look like I'm OK? Am I in Hawaii drinking piña coladas and watching you surf? Am I in my laboratory, winning a Nobel Prize? Am I eating a 15-course dinner, or, wait, even a one-course dinner? Am I resting my aching back on a prescription mattress? Why, no, I seem to be in Edmonton, stranded in a snowstorm and wasting my valuable time trying to make morons understand that a reservation for a hotel suite means nothing at all if there are no limousines or cabs or rental cars to take us through the snowstorm to the only hotel in Edmonton that has any room at all! It's your turn. Go see if you can charm someone into giving us a ride. Three or four someones."
And Ben says, "Ah, may I ask how many people you need to transport? I may be able to provide some assistance."
And the three guys look at each other like, "Do we want our family riding with this bunch?" but the woman just smiles and says, "Counting our children, there are eight of us. We would be grateful for your help."
And Ben looks at me, and I say, "Hey, I don't know how big the bus is. Call up Clarence and ask him if it'll fit 16 people and their luggage."
And Ben says "Ray, I hardly think I should distract Clarence when he's driving in these weather conditions." But lucky for us, Clarence calls right then; he's made it to the airport loading zone, and yeah, he thinks the bus is big enough for 16 people plus luggage.
So Ben offers them a ride, and the nice lady accepts, very polite, and the stocky guy looks a little less pissed-off. But we still don't have Sarah. Muscles looks at me and says, "I'll hunt for her." And he takes off.
The thin guy sees Ben's expression and says to us, "If she's there, Ronon will find her."
And stocky guy starts giving me shit about how our luggage should be stacked on the cart, and who does he think he is, anyway? But Ben's already made the offer, so I don't pop the stocky guy, but I don't let him tear our stuff apart, either, and we're kind of getting into an argument when Sarah shows up, breathing like she's been running. I give her a hard look, but figure it ain't exactly the right time for a lecture, and finally we are heading for the exits.
In an Airport Play Area
They crouched out of sight behind the airport playroom's pinball machines, the noise of the blizzard drowned out by children's shrieks of play. No planes were flying.
"Three Dads," said Kit.
"Right. Sure," said Sarah, scornfully. "You have three Dads and four Moms and there are fourteen kids. Lordy me."
"What?" said Kit. "There's only one Mom. And four kids, counting me. But three Dads."
"Two step-Dads?" asked Sarah, like she was looking for a loophole.
"Nope. One family, four parents, my whole life," and under his breath, he muttered, "Thank the Ancestors."
"How did that happen?" Sarah was looking uncertain now, rather than disgusted, Kit thought. Good. He wasn't sure he was ready for the kind of prejudice that Rodney sometimes ranted about.
"About all I know is that they were a team before they started our family."
"What kind of a team?"
"Exploration, mostly."
"Exploring where?"
"A long way from here. I can't tell you where—it's all part of a project that's still classified."
"Oh yeah? Which government?"
"International. My dad Rodney's from Canada," Kit said, carefully starting with the closest-to-local connection, as Teyla had taught him. "My dad John's from the USA. Teyla and Ronon are from places I can't talk about."
"Who're Teyla and Ronon?"
A big hand landed on Kit's shoulder, and a low voice said, "I'm Ronon." Kit looked up quickly. Ronon looked down. "You got distracted," Ronon said. "What's lesson one?"
Kit sighed, "Stay alert." Then he looked at Sarah. "Ronon's my Dad, too. And my Taskmaster. Teyla's my mom." He looked back up at Ronon, and asked, resignedly, "How much is it gonna cost me this time?"
Ronon raised an eyebrow. "Forty extra push-ups, if you take it from me."
"Can I ask Teyla?"
"If you want." Ronon turned to Sarah with one of his more sinister-looking smiles. "Teyla will give him bruises. She uses sticks."
"What?!" said Sarah. "You get hit with sticks? Just for not staying alert?" Now she looked outraged.
"Sometimes, yeah," said Kit, "It's fine. I'd rather take the sticks than do forty extra push-ups."
"That's sick!" Sarah exclaimed, now sounding thoroughly disgusted.
"No, it's not," Kit protested. "We live in a dangerous place! Staying alert is important."
"Fight about it later," said Ronon. "Time to go."
Kit said, "There isn't going to be a later."
Ronon smirked. "Yes, there is." He looked at Sarah. "You guys are giving us a ride to the hotel."
"A ride?" asked Kit. "In what? How will we all fit?"
"Schoolbus," said Ronon. "C'mon. You, too," he said to Sarah.
She rolled her eyes. "What are you gonna do if I don't? Throw me over your shoulder? That would look great. I'll scream if you do. I don't know who you are."
"You want me to yell, 'She's in here,' instead?" said Ronon. "The skinny one's already pissed. You want them both mad at you?"
Sarah scowled at Ronon. "Fucking prick," she muttered. She turned the scowl on Kit. "Look. Can't you guys at least let me go back on my own?"
Kit looked at Ronon. "Please? I'll owe you one."
Ronon considered, then said, "Three minutes starting now. Go."
Sarah dashed for the rear door of the playroom, hit the crash bar, and was gone.
Kit said, "Is that—? Will she—?"
Ronon said, "Good reflexes. She'll find them. Help me get Jace and Drew."
Standing up, Kit said, "Why'd you let—?"
Ronon shrugged. "This way, she'll be less pissy on the ride, and now you owe me one."
"Oh," said Kit.
Ronon gave him an amused sidelong look. "You two sounded like Sheppard and McKay."
On the Bus:
The skinny guy with the glasses was called Ray. Sarah's other dad was called Ben. Kit hadn't gotten all of the kids' names, yet. There had been a lot of shouting on the schoolbus ride to the hotel, and even though no one had seemed very angry, it wasn't the kind of situation where he could really concentrate.
Giula had pounced on him as soon as they got on the bus, and then Teyla had boxed them in by taking the aisle half of the bus seat. Sarah headed for the back of the bus, so he had no chance to talk more with her while they rode.
As the schoolbus ground along through the snowstorm, Kit caught a few scraps of conversation among the grown-ups, through the mass of noise: Ray hollering, "Mind if I ask who's married to who?" and John grinning wryly and shouting back,"All for one, and one for all!" Sooner or later, most people who met the whole family found some way to ask that question. Sometimes they waited months before they asked. Ray had waited about 20 minutes, and he'd spent half of that time arguing with Rodney about how to stow the luggage, which the schoolbus obviously wasn't designed to carry.
Ronon was up front with the driver, who was apparently a friend of Ben's. The driver was shouting something about hockey and Ronon was watching him operate the bus controls. They hadn't seemed that different from automobile controls to Kit, except that the steering wheel was more horizontal.
Part-way into the trip, Sarah grabbed Ben and pulled him back a few seats and into an urgent low-voiced conference. Each of them shot a keen glance or two his way, as if they were talking about him, but he couldn't be sure.
He wasn't sure whether to hope they were talking about him or not.
Overheard at the Hotel:
John sighed, flipped open his cell phone, and hit the speed-dial code for the SGC. "General O'Neill, please...Colonel Sheppard...it's kind of urgent. Thanks..."
"Sir? Sheppard here...."
"Sorry, sir; but we've got a situation. It's probably retrievable, but I don't have the clearance to do what it'll take..."
"We're all in Edmonton, snowed in, and we've had a little security breach here..."
"Eight people have seen about six seconds of video footage of SGA-1 arriving home from a mission..."
"You've seen our kids' nightlight? Drew hacked it to project a video clip. I think the footage is from the electronic Christmas card we sent you about four years ago..."
"No, not a clue. Drew's story is that he didn't know we were bringing the nightlight with us. The video was supposed to be a birthday present for Giula, later on..."
"One family: two parents, six kids..."
"Sir, the reason I'm not calling it homemade sci-fi is that half the family has the ATA gene, and one of them has a stronger expression of it than I do. The second-strongest one has it as strong as Rodney, and it looks like he might have some natural ESP, as well. Permission to non-disclose and brief the whole family?..."
"No, the parents don't have the gene, just four of the six kids..."
"It's an adopted family. The four boys are biological siblings..."
"The youngest..."
"That's the bad news. Part of it. He's about five years old..."
"Someone's going to have to replace me eventually, sir..."
"The oldest of the boys. 13 or 14. He's been having nightmares about his little brother walking into a circle of water and not coming out..."
"Yeah, the parents are kind of upset, and they want to know what's going on..."
"One of them's a corporal in the RCMP. The other's an ex-cop from Chicago..."
"No sir, they're both guys..."
"They tell me that's a long story. If you want to check their security clearances, the names to check are Benton Robert Fraser, Stanley Raymond Kowalski, and also Raymond Vecchio..."
"Kowalski says our files might mention them and a Russian submarine, but that he was undercover pretending to be Vecchio at the time..."
"No idea, sir..."
"Plenty of room, sir, but not a lot of privacy..."
"Kowalski's sticking to me until he gets answers. Short of having Ronon sit on him, which probably wouldn't help the situation..."
"OK, the two of us will duck out into the hall and stand in the middle and I'll give you the signal. Come on, Ray..."
"What?"
"A guy who can give you your answers is going to meet us in a few minutes."
"What, he was already here in the hotel?"
"Not exactly. You'll see. Come on."
"Ben?"
"Go ahead, Ray. I believe we can manage here for a few moments."
"Okay."
They stepped out into the broad hotel corridor. John spoke into the phone. "Ready when you are, sir."
General O'Neill appeared. John closed his phone and put it in his pocket.
"Holy shit!" said Ray, staring at O'Neill. "You guys have transporter beams, now? What is this?"
O'Neill stuck out his hand. "Jack O'Neill, USAF. You're Kowalski? I'd like to meet your family."
"Oh, yeah?" said Ray, instantly belligerent. "You tell me why."
"According to Sheppard, here, your boys have a genetic make-up that matches what we're looking for in a very important research project. They could help us to save a lot of lives."
"What, like a medical project? You are not using my boys for guinea pigs."
"Medical is a piece of it, but nothing worse than having a little blood drawn every now and then."
"You are not using my boys for cannon fodder, either!"
"No, we're not. What we would like to do is hear more about the dreams your oldest boy has been having, and we'd like to find out if any of your boys might be interested in learning to operate some very specialized equipment for us, when they're older. The ability to operate this stuff is linked to a particular gene, the ATA gene, which is very rare."
"What kind of equipment?"
"Research equipment in several of the sciences. Special aircraft. Defense systems. Facilities engineering."
Ray folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Torture chambers, flying bombs, cannons, and street-sweepers."
O'Neill looked at John. "I see why you called."
John sighed and moved enough to get Ray's attention. "Look, it's complicated. You were a cop, so you used to carry a gun, right?"
"Uh-huh. So?"
"There are situations where a cop needs the options a gun gives him. There are situations where a doctor needs the options an x-ray machine gives him. There are situations where a warehouse manager needs the options a heating-and-cooling system gives him. Now imagine that only one person out of ten thousand can operate guns, x-ray machines, or building controls. It's pretty much like that."
"More like one out of thirty-five thousand who can," said O'Neill.
John continued, "I have the gene. I've flown the special aircraft on rescue missions. The special medical equipment has saved my life, and Rodney's life, and Teyla's life, and Ronon's life. We're careful about what we let our own kids get close to, but we are training them to use this stuff as well as they can, 'cause we're pretty sure that a lot people are going to need them to know how."
Ray looked at John for a long minute, and then at O'Neil. He said, "Who gets killed?"
"What do you mean?"
"Who gets killed? You're talking about guns and injuries and rescues and saving people's lives. I'm all for saving people's lives, but if there's guns and injuries and people needing to be rescued, then some people don't make it, on both sides, right? Who's killing the people on your project? And who are your people killing?"
John looked at O'Neill.
O'Neill said, "Would you believe me if I said 'monsters from outer space?'"
Ray glared at him. "You beamed down here like on Star Trek, didn't you." It didn't sound like it was a question.
O'Neill said, "What did it look like?" which wasn't really a question, either.
Ray said, "Where were you when he called?"
O'Neill shrugged and said, "Colorado."
Ray said to John, "Hand me your phone a minute."
John pulled out the phone and said, "It's got a password on it."
Ray said, "Just show me the calls going in and out."
John flipped open the phone, entered his password, and displayed the list of recent calls.
Ray looked at it. "303 area code. Huh. Monsters from outer space?"
O'Neill said, "'Fraid so."
Ray said, "You seen any, yourself?"
O'Neill and John both grimaced and said, "Yes."
Ray said, "Wait here. If Sam's OK, I'll send Ben out. If he agrees, you can meet the kids. With us right there. No promises about anything else."
O'Neill looked surprised. "That's not the reaction we usually get."
Ray grinned just a little, "You aren't married to Benton Fraser. He's a magnet for weirdness. After a while, you get used to it." He opened the door to the ballroom, and went in and closed it behind him.
O'Neill looked at John. "Who's his Sam?"
"Their oldest boy," said John. "The one who's been dreaming about the Gate."
"Shook him up?"
"Yeah."
"What does McKay think about all this?"
"He's pretending to be too busy with his Nobel campaign to even listen. But he's listening."
"You said six kids. Only four with the gene?"
"Yeah. The four boys. There's an older girl and a girl somewhere in the middle who don't have the gene."
"Gene therapy, maybe, if they're interested."
"Maybe. The older one might be trouble."
"Ha. You should talk."
The door of the ballroom opened, and Ben came out, looking concerned but firm.
"Ray tells me that you have some information for me."
"Corporal Fraser? We do indeed."
Conversation in a Hotel Ballroom
Across the ballroom, Ray and Ben were arguing. They were doing it pretty quietly, but the jerky way Ray was moving his arms was enough to make Kit uneasy. John lounged over from that direction, coming to a stop next to Kit.
"What d'ya think, Scout?" asked John, tilting his head toward Ray and Ben.
"They're having to figure it out right now, aren't they?"
John smiled wryly. "A lot of it, yeah."
Kit said, "Are the hard parts always like that?"
"More or less," John replied.
Kit asked, "What makes it more or less?"
"What you're carrying, what you're good at, what kind of team you have."
"Oh. OK," said Kit.
John hesitated, and then said, "Uh. Also what you're not so good at."
"And what you're not carrying?" asked Kit.
John sighed. "Yep. And it's tougher if you're tired or wounded."
After a moment, Kit said "Oh," and then "What if you're pissed off?"
John smiled wryly. "Most things are harder, but a few things are easier when you're angry."
"Like what?"
John's small smile became a grin. "Um. Breaking things?"
Kit laughed, then said, more soberly, "What if you're freaked out?"
John considered it. "You could maybe divert attention, if the rest of your team can get the job done while you're doing it."
Kit grimaced.
After a pause that was just a little too long, John said, "Sometimes you freak out, anyway, though."
"So you need a good team?" Kit asked.
"Right."
"What do you do if the person who you need isn't there?"
"Do the best you can with what you've learned from being around them," said John.
"Oh," said Kit, again, and then, "So I should ask Teyla and Ronon more questions?"
John replied, "And watch what they do."
"What about you and Rodney?
John scratched his head. "Dunno how much more I can teach you, Scout. And I dunno which parts you'll need from all the stuff Rodney knows."
Kit looked reflective. "Rodney talks a lot. He might tell me what I need without me even asking."
John said, "Yeah, but he doesn't talk about everything. Don't let the talking distract you if there's other information you need to go after."
Kit looked doubtful. "Okaaaaay..." At John's inquiring look, he continued, "It's complicated."
"Yep. "
"And kind of messy."
"Yeah, that too."
"But you said there were good parts?" said Kit, hopefully.
John said, "Yeah, but it's pretty unpredictable. You gotta watch for them and catch 'em when you can."
Kit frowned, "There's no pattern at all?"
"Probabilities, maybe," said John. "If you learn as you go along, either from getting it right OR from fucking up royally, then you've got a better chance of making good parts later on. And the same with other people."
Nodding toward Ben and Ray, Kit asked, "You think they ever fucked up bad?"
"Probably," said John.
"Does even Teyla fuck up?
"You'd have to ask her about that, Scout."
Kit said, "I don't think she fucks up much."
John said, "Maybe not. Maybe she had hard parts and good teachers early enough to avoid some fuck-ups."
"I hate fucking up," said Kit.
John said, consolingly, "You do okay. A little fucking up is part of the whole human thing."
Kit sighed. "Shit."
John looked pensive. "Yeah, it sucks, but it happens. When it does, the important things are: One: clean up what you can, and Two: learn from it. OK?"
"Clean up first, then learn," said Kit.
"Right. You may feel like kicking yourself into next week while you're doing it, but kicking yourself for fucking up can actually make you fuck up worse. So concentrate on what you can do. ...Uh, I mostly learned that from Teyla, kinda late. If you can get it earlier, you'll be ahead of the game."
Rolling his head toward Ben and Ray and Teyla and Ronon and Rodney, across the ballroom, Kit asked, "Are they doing anything like that?"
John smiled faintly. "What's Rodney doing?"
"Holding Giula," said Kit.
"And what would Giula be doing if someone wasn't holding her, with all this going on?"
"Freaking out?"
John nodded. "Probably. Why is Rodney holding her instead of Ronon or Teyla?"
"Teyla's helping Sam," said Kit.
John's voice became even quieter than it had been. "Teyla's also keeping Drew from fucking up worse. And hopefully teaching him a little bit about cleaning up."
Kit said, "Oh. What's Ronon doing?"
John said, "He's ready to restrain anyone who might interfere with the clean-up."
"You could be holding Giula," said Kit.
John nodded judiciously. "I could," he agreed. "But Rodney's got that covered, and it looks like Jace is fine and learning stuff, and you looked a little worried, so I'm talking to you."
"Oh."
John looked off as if into a great distance, even though the ballroom wall was kind of close in that direction. "Used to be Rodney freaked out or interfered a lot. He's better now."
Kit asked, "Did Ronon freak out, too?"
John said, "Sometimes. While he was a Runner, he had no team, and he couldn't carry much besides muscle and knives."
"And what he knew?"
"Yeah, and what he knew. On this trip, he's got the Team and his muscles and what he knows, but not his knives. He's doing pretty good, all things considered."
"He'd be happier with his knives, though," said Kit.
"Yeah," John agreed, "but on this trip, he just has to deal. Not a good idea to call attention to ourselves by either buying or trying to smuggle weapons. Might be better after declassification, might be worse—we'll have to wait and see."
"What's going to happen after declassification? For us, I mean?"
"Well, there won't be as many secrets. Probably still some, though."
"Are we going to move to Earth?"
"Maybe. We're checking some things out. It's not decided, yet."
"Earth is weird, compared to home."
"Uh-huh. Think you could get used to it?"
"If I had to."
"Would you want to?"
"I dunno yet."
"Seen anything you like?"
Very quietly, Kit said, "Uh-huh."
John raised his eyebrows.
With a grimace, Kit asked, "Is kissing really fun?"
"Ah. It ...can be."
"But it isn't always?"
"Nope," said John.
Looking determined, Kit said, "Well, when is it fun?"
Judiciously, John said, "Depends on all kinds of things. The person, the time, what else is going on..."
Kit looked exasperated. "It's just as complicated as everything else? "
John said, "Well, practice helps. You thinking about practicing with someone?"
Kit screwed up his face. "Mmaaaayyyybe. I'm thinking about it, but I'm not so sure I'd want to be on a team with her."
"Good point," said John. "Think she has some learning to do?"
"Either that or some clean-up," Kit replied.
John said, "Could be both. Being on a team with someone like that isn't easy, but easy isn't everything. Sometimes the good parts make the hard parts worth it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," said John. "Complications and all. Think you can deal?"
"I think I can get there," said Kit.
John smiled brilliantly. "That's my boy."
From across the ballroom, Ray called, "Hey, Sheppard, gimme a minute over here, OK?"
John said, "Whoops, looks like I'm on deck. You OK for awhile?"
Kit said, firmly, "I'm coming with you. This guy yells."
John said, "Don't jump him—he's got a whole family to fight for and his partner's the local lawman. So we try not to fight, OK?"
Kit said, "I won't if you won't."
Ptarmigan Song
By Sam Robinson
take off your skin, and put on feathers
take off your skin, and put on feathers
I take off my skin, and put on feathers
I take off my skin, and put on feathers
draw away the teeth, the teeth
draw away the teeth, the teeth
let the nest be hidden
go back, go back, you teeth, you teeth!
go back, go back, you teeth, you teeth!
I draw you away from the nest
I draw you away from the nest
hard teeth, white teeth, teeth of death
hard teeth, white teeth, teeth of death
teeth may kill me
teeth may kill me
let the nest be safe this day
fly up and up, to the stranger's house-pole
fly up and up, to the stranger's house-pole
teeth they follow
teeth they follow
show yourself on the stranger's house-pole
show yourself on the stranger's house-pole
teeth are far from the nest!
I fly up!
I fly up!
My heart beats fast
I quickly tire
My wings are white
My tail is black
Go back!
Go back!
You teeth
Go back!