Fic SGA: Checkmate The Road Home pt3: The Columbo Method Is Taught At Shaman School
Title: The Road Home, part 3 The Columbo Method is Taught at Shaman School
Series:Checkmate ‘Verse
Author: Beadattitude
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: G, this chapter
Beta: None
Warnings: Animal transformation, angst, schmoop, romance
Author's Notes: Ah, things are picking up speed again!
Summary: The Shaman Gata’nah has a little chat with John, and John finds out that he’s not going to change back exactly like he was before.
Teaser: The shaman bent his head and laughed, long and hard, tapping his stick on the hearth for emphasis. “Oh,” he said, gleefully. “I never get tired of that! No matter what kind of creature a man or woman turns into - big or small or feathered or scaled or furry - everyone, every last one gets that same look on their face and squawks!
_.~*~._.~*~._.~*~._
“You realize, John Sheppard,” Gata’nah said, as he lit the logs in the firepit. “That our seclusion is not so much for your sake, but for your family’s.”
John, stretched out on a fluffy, wool fleece kind of rug, twitched his ears at the shaman.
“Well, that’s not entirely true,” the shaman admitted. “You will also have the great opportunity of listening to an old man hear himself talk, which, I am sure is something you’ve looked forward this whole month.”
John had forgotten how much he liked Gata’nah, which had been the reason he’d ended up in the Spirit House in the first place.
“The Gata’nah-that-came-long-before-me, in their wisdom, decided that it worried the people far too much to have their brothers and sisters suddenly transforming before their eyes and falling in a heap on the ground, naked. So, you are to stick to that nice, soft surface, John Sheppard, and no leaping about. The floor in here is hard.”
“Am I going to pass out?”
“Hmm?” Gata’nah asked, frowning, as he searched through the kindling for a stick that satisfied him. “John Sheppard. You know I do not speak that tongue. I suppose you want me to explain things. Humph. Take all the mystery out of it.”
“Everyone always comes back tired. Very tired. My teacher, Gata’nah-before-me, and I thought the sacred device uses a man’s strength in the transformation process somehow, coming and going. I know the power ultimately comes from the Ancestors, but, John Sheppard, the device is old, maybe as old as our mountains, where it was found. I’m sure your scientists could tell me something about that; they asked as much.”
He scratched under his headdress and fixed John with a shrewd look. “So, I think part of the power comes from us, opening ourselves to the Ancestors. I’m not certain I want to know for sure. Whole point of faith is to have faith in it. Right?”
“Right.” John said, smiling.
Gata’nah stared into the fire, poking at it with his stick. “We’ll have some breakfast - my granddaughters will be bringing it in a moment - and then you’ll get to hear me talk for a bit.” He smiled at Sheppard. “And maybe we’ll figure out if we can understand each other. At some point before,” he squinted up at the sky through the smoke hole in the roof, “mid-day, you’ll be a man again.”
John shifted restlessly on his fleece. “I’m ready to transform now,”he said plaintively.
The shaman stared at him steadily. “You complaining, boy? Excuse me, John Sheppard. You sounded like my youngest grandchild there for a moment.”
Looking at him flatly, John sighed and wiggled around to find a more comfortable position.
“I suppose you might have reason to complain, seeing as this came upon you by accident. And again, John Sheppard, I apologize for that.”
“Don’t worry about it.” There seemed to be a rock under the fleece. John got up and pawed under the hide, trying to move it.
Gata’nah inlined his head graciously. “From the telling of it, you’ve borne the gift well and patiently, but you do seem anxious to transform. Restless. Ready for the next part of your life?”
“Yes.”
“I am honored to know you, then. It takes a brave man to run through a door, knowing that on the other side the world is waiting and he’s going to be as naked as a newborn babe before them all.”
“What?”
The shaman bent his head and laughed, long and hard, tapping his stick on the hearth for emphasis. “Oh,” he said, gleefully. “I never get tired of that! No matter what kind of creature a man or woman turns into - big or small or feathered or scaled or furry - everyone, every last one gets that same look on their face and squawks! Not your clothing, boy. I’ve got a cleansing robe ready for you, and your family has your ‘Lantean gear. It’s your soul that’s going to be naked.”
John sat down with a thump.
Gata’nah’s eyes twinkled kindly. “You’re not going to go back to the way you were John Sheppard. Your body will be the “old” John Sheppard. But your spirit will be who you are, right now. Your essential self.”
John turned abruptly and walked around the Spirit House, drifting from bench to firepit to rug, examining things and thinking. He kicked his pebble meditatively. He didn’t look at the shaman for a long time, which didn’t seem to bother the old man, who continued talking after letting John mull things over for a few long minutes.
“I was granted six days to live my life with my soul clean and fresh as snowmelt. Spent most of it in our lake, fishing and diving.” Gata’nah stared into the fire as he spoke, letting John continue his restless wandering.
“I spent many years, John Sheppard, as apprentice to Gata’nah-before-me. Many years of study and testing and practice, all of which my eldest daughter now learns from me. She is helping a friend deliver her first child today, for we try to guide bodies as well as our people’s spirits, you see.”
“Before it was my time to see my soul’s shape, I had watched other transformations and seen many illnesses and wounds of body and spirit. I had seen much pain among my people, and the people who come here, searching. Not everyone is joyous about changing or changing back, once they’ve lived life as it could have been, all along.
“For some, it is a hard thing. A man once killed himself in front of our eyes before going through the gate. Didn’t want to change back, didn’t want to go back to his old life, and his family couldn’t understand. Didn’t want to. Of course, the transformation happened whether he was willing or not, and no one thought to keep his weapons from him when they dressed him. He died screaming at them in grief and anger as his life flowed onto the ground. It was a sad tale, and not one I wish to tell more of, unless you must hear it.”
He glanced over at John, his face drawn and lined. “I wonder about that man sometimes, the amount of pain falling on him that he felt like he had to do that in front of his children, and my children.” He swept his hand toward his village, face still full of sorrow.
John, having stopped atop a bench a few feet away, turned his head aside, horrified.
“For most, as it was for me, the journey adds greatly to life, as was intended. During my time, part of me wanted more hours to play in the water and fish. But I found myself out in my village, slipping along on the flat little things I had for feet, to see my people. Check on my master. Play with the children. I spent a lot of time with Shanara, the girl who would become my wife, charming her with games and fish and pretty rocks. I could not remember being so happy.”
"But when I opened my eyes again as a man, I could still smell the water, and feel the sun, and the joy of that time was still within my breast. The kind of delight of life I remembered having as a child - but even sweeter now that I understood its worth - I had for those six days. Joy that got covered up by weary duty and study and work and pain.”
He shook his head. “Before I turned, sometimes my calling was a burden to me, John Sheppard, but after…after I realized that I would one day be the guide, and that had to come from my spirit not my master’s. My staff became much lighter.”
John narrowed his eyes at the shaman and flicked his tail against the bench. Gata’nah laughed.
“I’m not saying everyday is a Harvest Dance, John Sheppard, with fine meats and dancing and willing mouths to kiss, but I was glad to shed those things off my spirit, so that I could feel that joy again. I’d like to think I am a better man for knowing my soul and letting it live, free in the air, instead of closing it up in my breast and keeping it hidden. It is up to you, though.” He peered at John across the smoke. “Do you think you are ready?”
John walked across the floor to his rug and sat, straight and tall, upon it. “I am,” he answered firmly.
Gata’nah nodded his head several times. “Well, you don’t seem to be panicking, and that’s a good thing; I’ve seen what you can do with those claws. I’m going to go see what’s keeping the girls. We need to get your belly full. Need to get my belly full.”
He got up and walked slowly to the door. About halfway there, he turned. “One thing I wish you could clearly tell me, John-Sheppard-who-is-so-ready, is why your most trusted friend looks like the life is draining out of him. I’ve got an idea about that, but I wonder if you do.”
“Mee.”
Gata’nah raised his eyebrows, put his hands on his hips and made a derisive sound. “Of course it’s about you, you fool,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Do you know why?”
“’Esss,” John said, laboriously.
“Good.” Gata’nah marched to the door and started shouting for his breakfast.
_.~*~._.~*~._.~*~._
For those of you too young to remember, Peter Falk (the grandfather in the Princess Bride) played a TV detective named Columbo, who lulled his quarry by gruff, quirky charm and was always almost out the door before he turned and added a “one more thing,” question, which was invariably the most devastating.
Series:Checkmate ‘Verse
Author: Beadattitude
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: G, this chapter
Beta: None
Warnings: Animal transformation, angst, schmoop, romance
Author's Notes: Ah, things are picking up speed again!
Summary: The Shaman Gata’nah has a little chat with John, and John finds out that he’s not going to change back exactly like he was before.
Teaser: The shaman bent his head and laughed, long and hard, tapping his stick on the hearth for emphasis. “Oh,” he said, gleefully. “I never get tired of that! No matter what kind of creature a man or woman turns into - big or small or feathered or scaled or furry - everyone, every last one gets that same look on their face and squawks!
_.~*~._.~*~._.~*~._
“You realize, John Sheppard,” Gata’nah said, as he lit the logs in the firepit. “That our seclusion is not so much for your sake, but for your family’s.”
John, stretched out on a fluffy, wool fleece kind of rug, twitched his ears at the shaman.
“Well, that’s not entirely true,” the shaman admitted. “You will also have the great opportunity of listening to an old man hear himself talk, which, I am sure is something you’ve looked forward this whole month.”
John had forgotten how much he liked Gata’nah, which had been the reason he’d ended up in the Spirit House in the first place.
“The Gata’nah-that-came-long-before-me, in their wisdom, decided that it worried the people far too much to have their brothers and sisters suddenly transforming before their eyes and falling in a heap on the ground, naked. So, you are to stick to that nice, soft surface, John Sheppard, and no leaping about. The floor in here is hard.”
“Am I going to pass out?”
“Hmm?” Gata’nah asked, frowning, as he searched through the kindling for a stick that satisfied him. “John Sheppard. You know I do not speak that tongue. I suppose you want me to explain things. Humph. Take all the mystery out of it.”
“Everyone always comes back tired. Very tired. My teacher, Gata’nah-before-me, and I thought the sacred device uses a man’s strength in the transformation process somehow, coming and going. I know the power ultimately comes from the Ancestors, but, John Sheppard, the device is old, maybe as old as our mountains, where it was found. I’m sure your scientists could tell me something about that; they asked as much.”
He scratched under his headdress and fixed John with a shrewd look. “So, I think part of the power comes from us, opening ourselves to the Ancestors. I’m not certain I want to know for sure. Whole point of faith is to have faith in it. Right?”
“Right.” John said, smiling.
Gata’nah stared into the fire, poking at it with his stick. “We’ll have some breakfast - my granddaughters will be bringing it in a moment - and then you’ll get to hear me talk for a bit.” He smiled at Sheppard. “And maybe we’ll figure out if we can understand each other. At some point before,” he squinted up at the sky through the smoke hole in the roof, “mid-day, you’ll be a man again.”
John shifted restlessly on his fleece. “I’m ready to transform now,”he said plaintively.
The shaman stared at him steadily. “You complaining, boy? Excuse me, John Sheppard. You sounded like my youngest grandchild there for a moment.”
Looking at him flatly, John sighed and wiggled around to find a more comfortable position.
“I suppose you might have reason to complain, seeing as this came upon you by accident. And again, John Sheppard, I apologize for that.”
“Don’t worry about it.” There seemed to be a rock under the fleece. John got up and pawed under the hide, trying to move it.
Gata’nah inlined his head graciously. “From the telling of it, you’ve borne the gift well and patiently, but you do seem anxious to transform. Restless. Ready for the next part of your life?”
“Yes.”
“I am honored to know you, then. It takes a brave man to run through a door, knowing that on the other side the world is waiting and he’s going to be as naked as a newborn babe before them all.”
“What?”
The shaman bent his head and laughed, long and hard, tapping his stick on the hearth for emphasis. “Oh,” he said, gleefully. “I never get tired of that! No matter what kind of creature a man or woman turns into - big or small or feathered or scaled or furry - everyone, every last one gets that same look on their face and squawks! Not your clothing, boy. I’ve got a cleansing robe ready for you, and your family has your ‘Lantean gear. It’s your soul that’s going to be naked.”
John sat down with a thump.
Gata’nah’s eyes twinkled kindly. “You’re not going to go back to the way you were John Sheppard. Your body will be the “old” John Sheppard. But your spirit will be who you are, right now. Your essential self.”
John turned abruptly and walked around the Spirit House, drifting from bench to firepit to rug, examining things and thinking. He kicked his pebble meditatively. He didn’t look at the shaman for a long time, which didn’t seem to bother the old man, who continued talking after letting John mull things over for a few long minutes.
“I was granted six days to live my life with my soul clean and fresh as snowmelt. Spent most of it in our lake, fishing and diving.” Gata’nah stared into the fire as he spoke, letting John continue his restless wandering.
“I spent many years, John Sheppard, as apprentice to Gata’nah-before-me. Many years of study and testing and practice, all of which my eldest daughter now learns from me. She is helping a friend deliver her first child today, for we try to guide bodies as well as our people’s spirits, you see.”
“Before it was my time to see my soul’s shape, I had watched other transformations and seen many illnesses and wounds of body and spirit. I had seen much pain among my people, and the people who come here, searching. Not everyone is joyous about changing or changing back, once they’ve lived life as it could have been, all along.
“For some, it is a hard thing. A man once killed himself in front of our eyes before going through the gate. Didn’t want to change back, didn’t want to go back to his old life, and his family couldn’t understand. Didn’t want to. Of course, the transformation happened whether he was willing or not, and no one thought to keep his weapons from him when they dressed him. He died screaming at them in grief and anger as his life flowed onto the ground. It was a sad tale, and not one I wish to tell more of, unless you must hear it.”
He glanced over at John, his face drawn and lined. “I wonder about that man sometimes, the amount of pain falling on him that he felt like he had to do that in front of his children, and my children.” He swept his hand toward his village, face still full of sorrow.
John, having stopped atop a bench a few feet away, turned his head aside, horrified.
“For most, as it was for me, the journey adds greatly to life, as was intended. During my time, part of me wanted more hours to play in the water and fish. But I found myself out in my village, slipping along on the flat little things I had for feet, to see my people. Check on my master. Play with the children. I spent a lot of time with Shanara, the girl who would become my wife, charming her with games and fish and pretty rocks. I could not remember being so happy.”
"But when I opened my eyes again as a man, I could still smell the water, and feel the sun, and the joy of that time was still within my breast. The kind of delight of life I remembered having as a child - but even sweeter now that I understood its worth - I had for those six days. Joy that got covered up by weary duty and study and work and pain.”
He shook his head. “Before I turned, sometimes my calling was a burden to me, John Sheppard, but after…after I realized that I would one day be the guide, and that had to come from my spirit not my master’s. My staff became much lighter.”
John narrowed his eyes at the shaman and flicked his tail against the bench. Gata’nah laughed.
“I’m not saying everyday is a Harvest Dance, John Sheppard, with fine meats and dancing and willing mouths to kiss, but I was glad to shed those things off my spirit, so that I could feel that joy again. I’d like to think I am a better man for knowing my soul and letting it live, free in the air, instead of closing it up in my breast and keeping it hidden. It is up to you, though.” He peered at John across the smoke. “Do you think you are ready?”
John walked across the floor to his rug and sat, straight and tall, upon it. “I am,” he answered firmly.
Gata’nah nodded his head several times. “Well, you don’t seem to be panicking, and that’s a good thing; I’ve seen what you can do with those claws. I’m going to go see what’s keeping the girls. We need to get your belly full. Need to get my belly full.”
He got up and walked slowly to the door. About halfway there, he turned. “One thing I wish you could clearly tell me, John-Sheppard-who-is-so-ready, is why your most trusted friend looks like the life is draining out of him. I’ve got an idea about that, but I wonder if you do.”
“Mee.”
Gata’nah raised his eyebrows, put his hands on his hips and made a derisive sound. “Of course it’s about you, you fool,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Do you know why?”
“’Esss,” John said, laboriously.
“Good.” Gata’nah marched to the door and started shouting for his breakfast.
_.~*~._.~*~._.~*~._
For those of you too young to remember, Peter Falk (the grandfather in the Princess Bride) played a TV detective named Columbo, who lulled his quarry by gruff, quirky charm and was always almost out the door before he turned and added a “one more thing,” question, which was invariably the most devastating.