Homecoming (Stargate Atlantis, #16)

by Jo Graham

“Why do we need a psychologist?” John grumbled. Rodney stopped and looked up. “Because we’re nuts.” “Speak for yourself.” “I intend to. I’m going to be her very first appointment,” Rodney said.

“And you may laugh at my constant monitoring of my mental health, but you should think about this. Your brain is the only one you’ve got.” “And you’ve got the most valuable brain on the planet,” John said. “So I have to keep it in tip-top shape.” Rodney gathered his laptop up and stood. “Even you’ve got to change the oil in your brain from time to time.” “That is a really disgusting metaphor,” John said. “And I’ve seen your brain, remember? I’ll pass on seeing it again.” Rodney paled. “We could skip that. Drilling into my head with an electric drill…” John put his hands in his pockets. “So you go tell Robinson about your phobia of electric drills.

“But you and me… I mean, we…” Rodney stuttered. “We never…”

Would it be so strange for us to walk apart together and find in one another what comfort we might?” Rodney looked down at his hands, leaning against the console beside her, his face serious. “I suppose not,” he said. “I’ve never thought about you that way. But if it were like that...”

“I envy you,” she said, and leaned against his shoulder beside hers. “You never care what anyone thinks of you.” Rodney shrugged. “You’ve got that wrong. I care what the people I care about think. But the rest of the sheep can trot off a cliff.”

“You’re going to hear a lot of bad things. A lot of really terrible, dark things, the worst things that have happened to people. I thought you needed to see some of the best.”

“We are the children of the Ancients. We are their legacy. And we should be proud of what we have done here.”

“When I first heard about the Ancients it was with an almost religious awe. And I’m not a worshipful man, not in the least. Now we’d find out the secrets! Now we’d see the best humanity could be!” He looked at her sadly. “Do you know what I’ve found out?” “That the parents are just like the children?” Teyla asked. “The apple never falls far from the tree,” Dick said. “They were no different from us.”

“Our faith is broken,” Teyla said. “And our numbers cut to the bone. I do not think we will survive as a people. Already we have dropped below genetic viability. We must change or die.” Dick nodded slowly. “I see that.” “That is the way of it,” Teyla said. “We must all change or die. We must all become and become again. When any people become too attached to the way things are, begin to see their way of life as inviolate…” She spread her hands. “We are scattered like seed on the wind.” “Not dust?” Teyla shook her head. “Seed. If it were not for the reaper, the grain would not grow.”