The Proposition by Jane Elliot John Sheppard loved his family, he really did. Just...not at the moment. "Aiden," he shouted at the top of his lungs. A few seconds later, Aiden sprinted into the office. "Yeah?" John pointed at the e-mail displayed on his computer screen, the one stating that Aiden and Laura were both taking the next day off for an audition. "What the fuck is this?" Aiden grinned. "Great, isn't it?" John stared at him. "Are you kidding me?" "No," Aiden said cheerfully. John glowered at him and Aiden's bright grin dimmed. "What's wrong?" "What's wrong? What's wrong?" John closed his eyes and counted to ten before he committed fratricide. Once he was sure he could speak without throttling his youngest brother to death, he gritted out, "Did you even check the calendar before you decided to take tomorrow off?" "Well, no," Aiden said cautiously. "I mean, I know we're on the schedule but it's just a party, right?" John took a deep breath to shout some more, then abruptly let it out in a sigh. It's not like it was Aiden's fault, or even Laura's. John had never cared in the past whether or not they gave advance notice before calling off, and John hadn't exactly made a point to explain how important tomorrow night's party was. "Never mind," he said wearily. "It doesn't matter. Aiden still appeared hesitant. It didn't suit the open planes of his face. "So...can we have tomorrow off?" "Sure," John said, just barely managing to keep the frustration out of his voice. He knew catering was a side job for Aiden and Laura while they pursued their dream. Hell, he was the one who had encouraged them to start applying for various special effects houses in the first place. Aiden was only doing what John had told him to do. With that in mind, John was able to honestly add, "Good luck at the audition." "Thanks," Aiden said, some of his earlier good humor returning. "It's just second unit work, but it's for a really big picture. Rod Johnson's starring." His grin was back in full force now. "You know what that means, don't you?" John raised his eyebrows. "You get to blow shit up?" he guessed. "We get to blow shit up," Aiden confirmed gleefully. Even in his current dismal mood, John had to smile at that. "Good luck," he said. "Though you won't need it. No one blows up shit like you and Laura." "You remember when we blew up that storage shed?" Aiden asked with a soft smile. "You mean the storage shed I built?" John asked pointedly. "Yeah," Aiden said dreamily. John rolled his eyes. "Get out of here and make yourself useful. If you're not going to wait at the Pegasus party, then you need to help with prep to get paid for this week. Go see what Jonas needs you to do in the kitchen." "Sir, yes, sir," Aiden snapped out with a mock salute. John flipped him off as he left. Alone again, John dropped his head into his hands and sighed. Where the hell was he going to find to two experienced waiters by tomorrow? ~~~ John's life had never been entirely normal. It wasn't his fault; he himself was a very normal guy. His family, on the other hand, was decidedly strange. It all started at the top. James "Jimmy" and Annabelle "you'll call me Annabelle and like it, Mister" Sheppard were not your average parents. In fact, they were the strangest parents John had ever met and, considering he grew up in the theater that was saying something. Jimmy Sheppard was a second class actor with a first class sense of humor working in a third class acting troupe. His fame (such as it was) came from his infamous "The General Does Baghdad" skit, which was so inflammatory that if it had been seen by anyone with an ounce of influence it probably would have ended up on Comedy Central. Fortunately or not, the rest of Jimmy's troupe lacked both talent and initiative and being the star of their show didn't do a thing to raise Jimmy's visibility. If Annabelle had been a typical wife, she probably would have pushed Jimmy to cut himself off from the troupe that was holding him back. Certainly the Sheppard family could have used the additional funds that increased exposure would have brought. Annabelle, however, had never been typical. A pretty, but not beautiful, woman, Annabelle had gotten her big break at twenty-nine with a small role in ER that was expanded to several episodes over the course of the first season. When the producers approached her about making her a regular the following season, she turned them down because she didn't want to spend that much time away from her family. She never worked in the film industry again. Instead she spent the next few years taking increasingly odd jobs, from standing on the street corner dressed up as the Statue of Liberty to working in a car wash with a string-bikini dress code to making chain mail for Renaissance Faires. She always wore her hair in two long braids and never used makeup, not even lipstick. John had loved his parents, and even though some of their antics embarrassed the hell out of him, he knew they did their best to let him choose his own path in life. His name was just one indication of this. He knew Annabelle had always wanted a child named Sun, but she and Jimmy went with a more conservative choice. John's middle name was Rainbow, just in case he wanted to be unique, but John had never been tempted to use it. John's birth had been difficult and the doctors had told Annabelle that her first baby would be her last. Annabelle being Annabelle, she had taken the news that she could no longer have children as a personal challenge and promptly went on to adopt as many kids as the state would allow. Carson was the first, adopted at the age of two, when John was five. Carson's mom had died of cancer and no one knew who his father was. He was a quiet, studious child who spent more time with Gilbert (the family's half-lab, half-mongrel garbage disposal) and Sullivan (the tyrannical tabby cat) than he did with any of his human family members. John mostly ignored him when they were younger. When they were older, John stoutly defended Carson against bullies, though he drew the line at actually socializing with the school geek. Two years later came Laura. Laura was very enthusiastically two years old and by the end of the first week she had terrorized Carson into hiding under the bed whenever she entered his room. John, very full of seven-year-old dignity, refused to be cowed by his new baby sister, though he quickly learned not to leave his hair within reach of her tiny hands. From the very beginning she displayed a fascination with destruction and quickly became an expert in demolition. Surprisingly, she and Carson became the closest of friends, which was how the school geek ended up eating lunch at the cheerleaders' table. A year after that, Ronon and Teyla were adopted. They weren't related to each other by birth, but from the beginning they had shared an obvious connection. Ronon had come from an abusive household, and spent much of his first year acting out. Teyla, who had come to them with hollow eyes and a tendency to flinch when anyone got too close, was the only one who was able to reach him. By the time the two of them had finally settled into their new life, they were inseparable. Though Teyla and, eventually, Ronon were respectful and polite, they never had any friends other than each other. Frankly, John found them a little creepy and it took a long time for him to warm up to them. Seven years passed and John grew complacent, confident that his parents had finally decided that they had enough children for one family. He should have known better. Along came Miko and Aiden, adopted a year apart and respectively seven and four years old. Miko's past was fuzzy and the snatches of information that John picked up through the judicious use of eavesdropping made it sound like she was a refugee from a Lifetime movie of the week. He figured her actual story wasn't that interesting, but just in case he avoided asking her any direct questions. Aiden was a sunny child with a brilliant smile. He spilled his milk a lot. John left him to Laura's tender mercies and in no time he was obsessed with demolition as well. More might have eventually followed if Jimmy and Annabelle hadn't died in a plane crash three years later. John, who had been seriously considering joining the Air Force, suddenly discovered a phobia to flying. Besides, there was no way he could enlist now. Someone had to take care of the kids, and there wasn't anyone else available. Not without them going back into the foster care system, and that wasn't an option. So, at eighteen years of age and newly the head of a large household, John Sheppard had gone hunting for a job. ~~~ A knock on the door interrupted John's reminiscing. "Yeah?" he called out, grateful for the interruption. He didn't have time to get lost in his thoughts. Not with the most important job of his life less than a day away. Laura popped her head in. "Sorry, bro, but we've got a problem." She stepped into the office, holding a swath of hideous teal cloth. John frowned. "What's that?" "Tablecloths," Laura said grimly. "Oh, God," John said, slumping even deeper into his chair. "Sorry," Laura said again. "Arrived just a few minutes ago from Pegasus Labs. They sent plate and silver, too." "It's not teal, is it?" John asked, without much hope. "And black and silver," Laura said and a small smile slipped out. "Well, no one ever said Rodney McKay had taste," John said standing up with a sigh. "Come on, let's see it laid out." It didn't take long to set up a table and John was surprised by the result. In the open light of the prep room the table cloth looked more blue than teal, and it was shot through with silver thread. The plate was not solid teal, as he had feared, but instead was high-quality porcelain with a silver finish and trimmed with black. Yes, it sported the occasional touch of teal, but rather than being tacky, the hints of color served to relieve the starkness of the black and silver. The simple silverware and sleek glassware both contributed to the clean lines of the table. The overall effect was spare and attractive and John had to admit that he might have underestimated Dr. McKay. "Not bad," he said out loud. "It's okay," Laura said grudgingly. "Thin plates." "No doubt expensive," John said dryly. "Good thing you and Aiden aren't serving." "We don't break plates," Laura said defensively. John just looked at her. "Okay, fine. Sometimes we break plates. Occasionally. Every once in a while. Accidentally." John continued to look at her and she crossed her arms. "I just hope you got those alternate uniforms I suggested." "I told you, we can't afford--oh shit." John stared at the table in front of him, trying to picture one of his waiters serving while wearing the uniform of Atlantis Catering. The cream and black uniform, the one that looked so good next to Atlantis's own tablecloths due to its warm coloring... "Oh, shit," he repeated, and hollered, "Miko!" A second later, Miko hurried in. "Yes?" she asked, wiping floury hands onto a neat white towel. She raised her eyebrows at the dressed table. "Can Jonas spare you for a few minutes?" John asked. With everything else going wrong, the worst thing he could do right now was piss off his head chef. Miko cleared her throat delicately. "Aiden's helping him." John groaned. He'd forgotten about that. "Laura, go keep Aiden out of trouble." Laura snapped to attention. "Aye, aye--" John glared at her. "Ahem. Right." She shot him a cheeky grin and scampered off. "Do you think it's too late to separate them?" John asked Miko. "Probably," she said, still inspecting the table. "What's this?" John looked at the table as well. "Pegasus sent it over." "Nice. Doesn't match the uniforms." "I know." John sighed. "Think you could rustle up something? Black on black, maybe?" He looked at her hopefully. Miko could sometimes perform miracles. "Maybe," Miko said. Maybe. That meant yes. John grinned and caught her up into a big hug. "You know, you're my favorite sister." Miko just smacked him on the head. "Put me down." John hastily put her down. She produced a notebook and a pen. "Who's serving?" "I'm not sure yet," John admitted. Miko eyed him skeptically, so he explained, "Aiden and Laura just called off." "You're a pushover," she answered mildly. "They're just following their dream," John said. He sank into one of the folding chairs that dotted the room. "Nothing wrong with dreaming." Miko didn't argue the point, not that John had expected her to. How could she, when she was currently living her own dream of graduate school? College was an expensive proposition, even with scholarships covering part of the bill, and there hadn't been enough money for everyone. The entire family had worked hard so that Carson and Miko would have the opportunity to explore their passion for higher learning. Now it was Aiden and Laura's chance to do what they loved. "I'll need to know by six," she said finally. "I can't promise anything later than that." "Thanks, Miko," John said, kissing her on the forehead. She just shook her head at him and returned to the kitchen. Alone, John stared at the lovely, unique table before him and sighed. "This is going to be a disaster." ~~~ The first person John called in his quest for additional waiters was Carson. He had to hold the phone away from his ear to keep from being deafened by the cacophony of animal noises on the other end of the line. "Carson?" "No!" John winced. Not a good start. "Um, no what?" he asked, trying to sound innocent. "I'm sorry, John, I was talking to the dog. No! No! Ginny, get your teeth out of Alexander's rump! Ginny, I'm warning you--don't you--ow!" John bolted upright. "Carson, are you all right?" Ginny was a pit bull, one of the guard dogs Ronon and Teyla trained in their spare time. Eventually she would be honed to a living lethal weapon. John didn't want to find out the hard way that she was getting ahead of the learning curve. "Fine, John," Carson sighed. "I just tripped over Ginny, the hyperactive minx. When is Ronon coming by to pick her up, anyway?" "I'm sorry," John said, letting out a gust of relieved breath. "He and Teyla are pulling double duty this week. And now that Laura and Aiden aren't going to be around tomorrow--" He left it hanging, knowing Carson would get the hint. "Oh," Carson said, sounding like it hadn't occurred to him that he would be asked to help tomorrow. Coming from anyone else, John would have assumed Carson was messing with him, because of course John was going to call him for help. Who else was there to call? On the other hand, Carson didn't mess around with people, not even people in his own family. "I'm sorry, John, I can't." John frowned. "Is everything all right?" "Of course," Carson said in the least convincing tone of voice possible. "Why wouldn't it be?" John's mouth dropped open. Carson had just lied to him, except that Carson never lied to him, at least not since Mom and Dad had died. Now John didn't know what to do. Should he call Carson on the untruth, or let it slide since Carson obviously didn't want to tell him what was really going on? "Hot date?" he asked tentatively. "Yes," Carson said quickly. Too quickly. John closed his eyes and decided not to ask any more questions. He didn't think he could take a third lie. "Okay," he said. "Have fun." "Thanks, John," Carson said sincerely. He cleared his throat. "Maybe Jack would know someone." "Yeah, maybe," John answered. He held back a sigh as they said their goodbyes and he gently set the handset into the cradle, despite the fact that what he really wanted to do was rip the phone out of the wall and throw it across the room. What was going on in Carson's life that was so bad that he couldn't even tell his family about it? John stood up and started for the door. If anyone knew what was going on with Carson, it would be Laura. Of course, she had probably been sworn to secrecy, but once he got her going, it would just be a matter of time... Time. John stopped halfway to the door and glanced at his watch. It was already after five, which meant he had less than an hour to find at least two experienced, reliable waiters who were available on a Saturday night. Waiters were a dime a dozen in LA, but experienced, reliable waiters available on weekends were worth their weight in gold. Where the hell was he going to find someone at this late notice? For a moment, John considered taking Carson's advice and calling Jack. Jack O'Neill owned several of the hottest restaurants and nightclubs in LA and both James and Annabelle had worked for him at one point or another. After their deaths, Jack had given John the desperately needed job that had allowed John to keep his family together. Over the next few years John had worked virtually every job available in the restaurant, learning as much as he could about the industry. When he had decided to start his own catering business, Jack had offered him a personal loan and some second-hand equipment to help him get started. Without Jack O'Neill, Atlantis Catering would never have existed, much less survived this long. John knew for a fact that Jack had a whole list of weekday waiters who would appreciate the chance to pick up a little work on the side and he also knew that Jack wouldn't hesitate to make the list available to John. Still, he hesitated. The Pegasus Labs Charity Ball was a coup for Atlantis Catering, a huge step in the company's quest for long term financial stability, but it was more than that. Not only was Pegasus the biggest client Atlantis had ever had, it was also the first client that had been acquired entirely independently from John's connection with Jack. Unlike all of Atlantis's previous jobs, this one had not come from a referral. This time John had actually sought out the company, researching its monthly and sometimes bimonthly events and shamelessly schmoozing Sora, Rodney McKay's executive assistant and the person responsible for organizing all Pegasus Labs events. It had taken a lot of time, food, and charm to woo Pegasus from the Hilton Hotel, their previous caterer, but John had put in the effort and had waltzed off with one of the most coveted catering jobs in town. This ball was Atlantis's chance to finally step off of Jack's shoulders and stand on its own. For the first time, Atlantis was playing in the big leagues, and the possibilities were endless. A success tomorrow night could easily lead to a year of future engagements, maybe more. Atlantis and, more importantly, the Sheppard family, would finally be financially secure, all because of John's conquest. If, however, he called Jack now, the success would be tainted. Instead of a bold foray into the upper echelons of the corporate world, the ball would become just another potential disaster from which John had had to be rescued. Even if Atlantis came out ahead, the evening would always carry the pall of personal failure in John's mind. Of course, John would never sacrifice his family's welfare for his own pride. If he wasn't able to find someone else before Miko's deadline, he would call Jack. Even though it would prove once again that John Sheppard was a hopeless screw-up, at least Atlantis would be safe. Until then, however, he was going to explore every other avenue available to him, no matter how unpleasant. With that in mind, John opened the top drawer of his desk and reached way into the back for a small book with a black cover. Each page in the book had a name and a brief description, but no phone number. Those were stored in his head. John bit his lip thoughtfully as he flipped through the names. Finally he found one that might be doable. With a sigh, he started dialing. This wasn't going to be fun. "Hello?" John took a deep breath. "Lorne? This is John Sheppard." There was a very, very long pause. "Really?" Lorne finally said. John gritted his teeth. "Really." "You wouldn't happen to be the same John Sheppard who promised to call three months ago after a night of incredible fucking, would you?" God, this was even worse than he'd expected. "The same," John ground out. "The same John Sheppard who said that he wasn't a player, despite his reputation? The same John Sheppard who said our instant connection 'really meant something'? The same John Sheppard who said that he was 'looking for something more than an easy lay' and who--" John snapped. "Okay! I get it. I'm sorry, okay?" "Think nothing of it," Lorne said breezily. John seriously considered hanging up. Unfortunately, he needed help and Lorne was at the top of a very short list of people who could help him. And, when push came to shove, John really had acted like a jerk. So, swallowing his pride, he said, "I mean it, Lorne. I was an asshole, and I apologize." There was a pause and when Lorne spoke again the mockery in his voice was gone. "I knew what I was getting into. Not your fault that you lived up to your reputation. So, what do you want?" John thought about apologizing again, but decided it wasn't a good idea to harp on how much of an ass he had been. Instead, he asked, "Didn't you tell me you were a waiter between acting gigs?" "Yep," Lorne said. "Best in the business." Which was no doubt a matter of opinion, but beggars couldn't be choosers. "How'd you like to make a couple hundred bucks?" Brief pause. "I might be interested. When?" "Tomorrow night." John held his breath. "Yeah, I'm free." John let out his pent-up breath in a relieved woosh. "Five till midnight?" "Make it three hundred?" "Deal," John said quickly. "Thanks." "No problem," Lorne said, and John could hear the smile in his voice. "But you're lucky it really was an incredible night of fucking." ~~~ At six o'clock on the nose, John handed Miko a slip of paper with a list of six names. "Jonas?" she asked with raised eyebrows. "Just in case," John said. "I'll be helping out too, but you don't need to get me anything. I'll be wearing a suit." Miko nodded and finished reading the list, pausing again when she got to the last two. "Cameron Mitchell and Lorne. Lorne?" "I don't remember his first name," John said sheepishly. Times like these, he would gladly give up his ability to instantly memorize phone numbers if it would give him a better head for names. Miko nodded again, this time looking thoughtful. "Both these names sound familiar." John flushed and answered quickly, "I don't want to talk about it." "You're the boss," she said, with a casual shrug that meant she was laughing inside, putting her favorite sister status in serious jeopardy. Before his dignity could be tattered further, John headed for the safety of his office. ~~~ John's first thought on waking up on Saturday was: Holy shit, the ball is today. His second was: What's up with Carson? I should have found time to talk to Laura last night. His third: Oh, shit. I forgot the business cards! At which point he rolled out of bed, jerked on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and headed for the door. The day flew by. John picked up his freshly dry cleaned suit, the nearly-forgotten business cards (specially redesigned for the ball), and last minute groceries for Jonas. Then he went home for a quick shower before heading to the Hilton to set up tables and chairs in the ball room, dining room, and reception area that had been reserved for the event. John, Ronon, and Teyla worked quickly and efficiently, despite the glares and muttered comments of the Hilton staff that kept passing through the room. The Hilton employees were apparently holding a grudge over losing the Pegasus Labs gig. After Ronon snarled at a belligerent cook, however, the room emptied out and stayed empty. John had hoped he would have time to swing by Carson's before the ball, but it was nearly three when the rooms were finally set up. He barely had time to return home to change and do his hair before his pre-party meeting with Sora. As John strode into the hotel for the last time before the party (adjusting his cuffs and checking his hair in every available reflective surface), he decided to save worrying about Carson until first thing Sunday morning. For the rest of the evening nothing was more important than making Atlantis Catering the premier catering firm in LA. John was supposed to meet Sora in the reception room, but when he got there the only person he saw was a stocky man of medium height, with startling blue eyes and a crooked mouth. He was wearing a well-cut tux that emphasized the strength in his chest and shoulders, though it couldn't quite cover up a bit of softness at the man's waist. Not bad looking, in a unique sort of way, but not someone John would put much effort into picking up. Whoever the man was, he definitely wasn't Sora. John looked back out in the hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of her brilliant red hair. No luck. His frown deepening, he returned to the reception room to keep an eye on the stranger. Who was this guy, anyway, and why was he here? The only people who should be in this room were Atlantis Catering staff. Deciding that the best defense was a good offense, John plastered on his most charming smile and walked up to the tuxedoed man. "Hi," he said, holding out his hand. "Can I help you?" "Dr. Rodney McKay," the man said, taking John's hand in a firm grip. "I'm looking for a John Sheppard." This couldn't be good. With an effort, John kept his smile intact. "That's me. Delighted to meet you, sir." "I doubt you'll think so when you hear my news," McKay said, taking back his hand. "Sora's been fired." John's stomach dropped to the vicinity of his feet, but McKay wasn't finished. "From here on out, you'll be dealing directly with me." John felt as if he had been sucker punched in the gut. "Fired?" he repeated numbly. "Why?" McKay crossed his arms. "How much do you know about industrial espionage?" "Pretty much nothing," John admitted, his breath coming a little easier as he realized Sora hadn't been fired for hiring him. Not that hiring Atlantis Catering should be a firing offense or anything, but-- "Good," McKay said and promptly changed the subject. "Now, could you please explain to me why these tables are covered with hideous green cloth?" John glanced at the nearest table. It really didn't look that bad, but he wasn't about to say so out loud. "Sora sent them over, along with the plate and silver." McKay snorted inelegantly. "I see her taste in table design is as questionable as her taste in business associates. What alternatives do you have?" John's eyes widened. Even if they had Atlantis's tablecloths and dishes on site, which they didn't, there was no way he could strip all of the tables and set them back up again in time for the party. "The ball starts in less than an hour," he said, trying hard not to panic. McKay frowned and glanced at his watch. "Damn. Next time, then." Next time. In an instant, John went from panic to elation. McKay was planning on using them next time. "Absolutely," he said, doing his best not to sound like a teenager who'd just scored a date with the head cheerleader to the prom. "We usually use cream cloths, with gold trimmed china and--" "Yes, yes," McKay said. He glanced at his watch again. "What time do your people get here? I'm a very busy man, you know." John gaped at him and his mouth spoke before his brain had gotten past the other man's monumental rudeness. "I'm sure you are." Which was not the best thing to say to your most important client, but at least it got McKay's attention off of his watch. "You don't believe me?" he asked, looking annoyed. "I didn't mean that," John lied. It didn't help. "I do have more important things I could be doing right now," McKay said huffily. "I'm the most intelligent man on the planet. The very future of mankind could very well depend on how efficiently I use my time." "Modest, too," John's mouth said dryly. Shut up, his brain hissed. Instead of getting more angry, however, McKay merely waved his hand dismissively. "Modesty was invented so that stupid people would never have to be confronted by their limitations. I refuse to perpetuate such an idiotic notion." This time John caught his mouth before it said anything too horrible and changed the subject to something safer. "We're actually right on schedule, so if you need to get ready for the party, there's no need for you to stay." John had expected McKay would be happy for the chance to escape, but instead the scientist looked downright panicked. "Why, don't I look ready?" he asked, sounding nervous. "It's the tux, isn't it? I shouldn't have worn the tux." He dropped his head into his hands and added miserably, "Why couldn't Sora have sold company secrets next week? She usually tells me what to wear to these things." "Uh," John said intelligently. He thought McKay didn't like Sora's taste in fabric, but maybe that only applied to tablecloths. One thing was for sure: being around Rodney McKay was a non-stop emotional roller coaster. "The tux looks fine." McKay looked up hopefully. "Really?" "Really," John said. His traitorous mouth added, "Looks great on you." John bit his lip to hide a wince as he realized how that sounded. Great. Now he was hitting on his employer. At this rate not only would there not be a next time, McKay might just fire him before there could be a this time. Thankfully, McKay seemed oblivious to the flirting. "I hate these things, you know," he said in a mournful tone. "These parties are a waste of my time." Or maybe the good doctor was just self-absorbed. Fortunately, John had grown up in LA and thus had plenty of practice with self-absorbed people. "Really?" he asked, infusing his voice with far more interest than he actually felt. "Why have them then?" "Politics," McKay said with a sigh. "For some reason it looks better to throw away a lot of money on a charity ball than it does to just donate a few million directly to the charities. Further proof, if more were needed, that the world is populated by morons." John was saved from having to come up with a response to that by the arrival of his crew. His chest puffed up in pride as Ronon, Teyla, Miko, Jonas, Lorne, and Cameron all lined up near the door, looking very sharp indeed in short-waisted black tuxedo jackets over black shirts and pants and accented by black ties. "Right on time," John said with a grin. "Nice work on the uniforms, Miko." She gifted him with a rare smile. McKay stood up from his chair and cleared his throat softly. John flushed as he realized he'd forgotten the introductions. Really, what was wrong with him tonight? Someone who didn't know him would think he'd never interacted with people before. "Sorry. Dr. McKay, this is my crew. Jonas and Miko will be in the kitchen and Ronon, Teyla, Lorne, and Cameron will be handling waiting duties." Lorne's eyebrows raised at John's use of his last name, but he didn't say anything, for which John was profoundly grateful. "Nice to meet you," McKay said. A flurry of reciprocation followed. There was an awkward silence until John rolled his eyes and stepped forward. "Time's running short, folks. You know what to do. Get to it." Jonas and Miko immediately started for the kitchen. Ronon and Teyla surrounded Lorne and jostled him toward the door closest to the service entrance. Cameron followed Lorne. McKay watched until everyone had left, then turned to John. "You know, your staff is remarkably attractive." "Yeah," John agreed. What else was there to say? It was obvious to anyone with eyes that the Sheppard family had more than its fair share of beauty. John, with his bony body, tiny eyes, and out of control hair, was the least attractive of the bunch. If he didn't love his brothers and sisters so much, he'd probably be jealous. McKay looked thoughtful. "The taller woman -- did you say her name was Teya?" Crap. John could see this was going nowhere good. "Teyla," he corrected. "But--" "She's seeing someone?" McKay said, sounding disappointed. John hesitated. The truth was that Teyla and Ronon weren't dating at the moment. However, he wasn't sure how to explain to McKay that Teyla only came as part of a package deal, especially when the other half of the package was male. Even a liberal, open-minded man might have issues with the arrangement, and thus far Rodney McKay hadn't seemed either liberal or open-minded. Clearly the truth wasn't an option. John had just opened his mouth to lie when a tiny man with wild hair entered the room and made a beeline for McKay. Based on the quality of the stranger's impeccable tuxedo, John was guessing this was another employee of Pegasus Labs. "Rodney, come quickly," the man said with a thick Eastern European accent. He ignored John completely. "The Dragon Lady is here." He stopped and glanced at the nearest table. "Is that tablecloth teal?" McKay rolled his eyes. "Yes. Hideous, isn't it?" The man cocked his head. "Actually, I think it is rather nice. Did Sora select it?" "Clearly the two of you share the same deplorable taste," McKay said snidely. "This does not surprise me." "Ha," the stranger shot back. "I did not hear you complaining about her taste when she dressed you." "Simply the result of my utter lack of interest in current fashion trends," McKay said loftily. "Which is a clear sign of my genius. No one with an iota of intelligence would blindly follow the dictates of an industry that routinely starves its employees to death." Suddenly he held out his arms. "What do you think about this tux? John said it was fine, but he's paid to be nice to me." John blinked, unsure whether he should be flattered or offended. "Oh," McKay added, before the other man had a chance to answer. "This is John Sheppard, the caterer. John, this is Dr. Radek Zelenka. He's not completely stupid." "He is upset because I have more patents," Zelenka said, taking John's outstretched hand. The little guy was stronger than he looked. McKay crossed his arms. "That's just because you fast-tracked them somehow. I have six patents pending." "Pending, pending," Zelenka said, throwing his hands in the air. "By the time they are not pending, I will have six patents more." He leaned in to John and said conspiratorially, "He antagonizes the patent clerks and they lose his paperwork." John just barely managed not to smirk. McKay flushed lightly and glowered at the floor, looking embarrassed and a little hurt. Feeling guilty all of a sudden, John quickly changed the subject. "Who's the Dragon Lady?" McKay's flush deepened, though now he just looked annoyed. "Senator Elizabeth Weir," he said sourly. "Chairwoman of the subcommittee for military budgetary allocations," Zelenka added. "Famous diplomat. Beautiful woman." "Scary woman," McKay said under his breath. In a normal voice, he added, "She's early." Zelenka shrugged. McKay turned to John. "Are you ready?" John glanced at the reception table. Most of the food was out, and the rest of the room was already set up. Drinks would be ready in just a few minutes. It was moments like these when words simply weren't enough to express how much he loved his crew. "Whenever you are," he answered casually. "Great," McKay said, sounding relieved. "Radek, bring her in. John, find some alcohol. I've found US Senators are slightly more rational when drunk." "I'm on it," John said. After the insanity that was a half hour in the presence of Rodney McKay, it was a relief to escape to the back rooms. The prep kitchen was a whirlwind of activity. Jonas was heating the dishes he had prepared last night and putting the final touches on the last tray of reception hors d'oeuvers. Miko and Cameron were pouring champagne and arranging the delicate flutes on trays. Ronon, Teyla, and Lorne were setting up food trays. John noticed that Teyla and Ronon were both giving Lorne interested looks, but he knew them well enough to trust that they wouldn't make a move while they were working. If only Aiden and Laura would be so professional. "ETA on the drinks?" John asked Miko. "That tray's ready to go," Miko answered, gesturing with her chin while expertly filling another flute. She didn't spill a drop. Teyla moved to take the tray, but John stopped her. McKay had made it clear that he wanted Elizabeth Weir to be happy. Alcohol wasn't the only pleasant distraction Atlantis Catering could provide. "Ronon, you take the first tray. There should be a woman out there. See if she wants anything harder. Teyla, you're on drinks as well--" John said that for Lorne and Cameron's benefit, as the usual team already knew that Teyla and Ronon always handled the drinks "--Lorne and Cameron, you're food and cleanup. There's plenty to eat already out there, so worry more about keeping up with the dirty dishes. Dinner starts in an hour. Teyla and Ronon will be serving Russian style. Lorne and Miko and Cameron and I will be paired up French style. Any questions?" "Yeah," Lorne called out. "Do you even know my first name?" John flushed hotly as Cameron and Jonas chuckled and even Ronon cracked a smile. "Any serious questions?" John asked through gritted teeth. Miko rescued him. "What happens after dinner?" John nodded to her in thanks. "Teyla and Ronon will keep circulating with drinks and desserts until the party shuts down or until McKay sends us home. Jonas and Miko, you'll clean up the kitchen and prep room. Cameron and Lorne--" John emphasized the latter name with a little more force than necessary "--will clean and break down the reception and dining rooms. By the time the party ends, everything should already be washed and packed up. The last few glasses and plates can go home dirty -- I'll take care of those tonight." He almost asked if there were more questions, but he caught Lorne's smirk out of the corner of his eye and quickly changed his words. "Make me proud, everyone." Everyone immediately started moving, weaving past each other in the tight space to get back to their tasks. John felt another swell of pride. His team worked well together, even with the additions of Lorne and Cameron, and he knew right then that this night would go off without a hitch. Atlantis Catering was the best in the business and tonight they were going to prove it. With that thought in the front of his mind, John straightened his jacket and patted his pocket. Looking sharp and with business cards close at hand, he started for the door. Time to earn his salary. There were only a few more people in the reception room than when John had left to rally the troops, and all of them were dressed as if they were going to the opera. John felt like a shabby second cousin next to them, but the suit he was wearing was the nicest he owned and, besides, tuxedos emphasized his too-skinny frame. At least his suit was well-cut and the unrelieved black would help make it look more formal than it was. If he acted confident enough, no one would notice what he was wearing. Hopefully if he told himself that enough times, he would eventually begin to believe it. Forcing his mind off of his evening wear, John debated strategy. Interacting with the wealthy was always a tricky proposition and, technically speaking, John wasn't invited to this party. If he struck too soon, he ran the risk of gathering more attention than he wanted and getting turned into entertainment for the bored masses. Experience had taught John that the rich loved to poke fun at the lower tax brackets. Deciding that it would be best to wait for a few more people to arrive, John glanced at the food table to see how it was fairing. Judging by how fast Dr. McKay was cramming meatballs into his mouth, John would say that Jonas's cooking was a success. John grinned and headed over to fish for compliments. At the last second he hesitated: this wasn't a pre-event meeting any more and John wasn't sure how the head of a world-famous scientific laboratory would feel about interacting socially with his caterer, especially in the company of his peers. McKay might be annoyed or, worse, irritated by John's forwardness, and John couldn't afford to piss this man off. McKay made the decision for him, coming up with a plate full of food and enthusing, "These meatballs are fantastic." Despite himself, John found most of his tension easing away. McKay just looked so damn happy about Jonas's meatballs. "Glad you like them," he said with a pleased smile. "You should try the marinated mozzarella sticks. They're our most popular hors d'oeuvers." McKay made interested noises and went straight back to the table, where he grabbed a skewer topped with a piece of cheese and a cherry tomato and immediately popped it into his mouth. "Mm," he said, his eyes sinking shut as he moaned happily and slowly pulled the stick past his glistening lips. John swallowed hard and wondered if McKay had any idea how pornographic that looked. McKay's eyes opened and he promptly shoved a mini-quiche into his mouth. "God, this food is good," he said, speaking around a mouthful of half-masticated egg. That sight wasn't pornographic in the slightest, so John was able to answer levelly, "Wait till dinner. Jonas makes a mean spinach lasagna." McKay grinned happily and started on another plate of snacks. John smiled back and left him to finish demolishing the food table. It was time to work the room. John hadn't been born with a lightning fast intelligence like Carson and Miko, he lacked the passionate enthusiasm of Aiden and Laura, and he couldn't hold a candle to Ronon and Teyla's work ethic, but he did have a gift with people. It took a certain skill to insinuate yourself into other people's conversations and John took pride in the fact that he managed to make it look easy. It was his one talent and, damn it, he was going to do it well. The first step was to pick your target. Groups of four or five were best, as they were already large enough to preclude intimate conversation. Find the gap -- there were always at least two people who didn't want to stand too close -- and ease your way in with an apologetic smile. Downplay your intrusion by focusing on whoever was speaking. Then it was just a matter of showing interest and coming up with witty responses. The key was not to push. This was a charity ball, pretty much the textbook definition of boring. Every conversation would at some point turn to the food. Until that happened, John kept a low profile, making clever remarks and laughing at bad jokes. When asked what he did for a living, he gave his best wry smile, said he was in the food service industry, and left the listeners come up with their own conclusions. No doubt they assumed he was the head of Kraft or McDonald's or Hershey. When people did comment on the food, however, John slipped a card out of his pocket and passed it over with a smile. "Atlantis Catering," he said. "Best in the business." The women took the cards and tucked them into their dresses, shooting for 'flirting' but usually falling somewhere around 'ridiculous'. The men either put the cards in their pockets (meaning they would never call) or in their wallets (meaning they would pass them on to whoever planned their own events) and asked what was for dinner. Spinach lasagna wasn't causing quite the stir of excitement John had hoped for; next time he'd push for prime rib. He didn't think McKay would balk at the expense. As he was returning from the kitchen with a fresh batch of cards and a quarter-filled flute of champagne (he had to play the part, but he didn't want to lose his edge), John saw two gorgeous women enter the room. They were tall, dark haired, blue-eyed, and obviously identical twins. The one on the left wore a simple black sheath dress that accentuated her flawless pale skin. The one on the right wore the same, except that her dress was made of leather. Both women headed straight for McKay, who promptly choked on a mozzarella stick. John hurried over to help, just in time to see McKay turn red in the face and start blowing his nose furiously into a paper napkin. That probably meant some of the marinade had made it into McKay's sinuses. John winced. There was a lot of vinegar in that marinade. A bit of back patting and nose blowing later, McKay had recovered enough to turn a venomous eye on the two women. "Vala, Aeryn[1], what the hell are you doing here?" Vala, the one in leather, draped herself over McKay's arm, looking like sex personified. "We were invited," she said silkily. Aeryn stood at McKay's other side with near-military posture. "Sora said you had some gentlemen who would need to be entertained." "And you didn't question that at all?" McKay said incredulously. "Pegasus Labs events host heads of state. Last month Zelenka made me kowtow to the President of the United States. Even if he is a contemptible bigot with the IQ of a turnip, I doubt he's about to pick up prostitutes at a charity ball." "I fucked the Chinese prime minister last week," Vala purred. McKay groaned. "China doesn't have a prime minister, you feeble-minded nymphet. When did Sora hire you?" Vala ran a finger along McKay's jaw, apparently not at all offended by McKay's insult. John figured hookers probably had to have thick skins. When it became clear Vala wasn't planning on answering McKay's question, Aeryn said, "Yesterday." "Sora was fired Thursday," McKay snapped, slapping Vala's hand away. Aeryn and Vala exchanged a glance. Vala shrugged and blew a soft puff of air into Rodney's ear. "We've already been paid," Aeryn said. McKay looked half a second away from a coronary. John couldn't blame him, though he had to admire Sora's nerve. It took balls to hire a couple of whores for your ex-boss's charity ball. Fleetingly, John wondered which charity, exactly, this ball was supporting. Then he wondered why, exactly, Dr. Rodney McKay was on such familiar terms with a pair of prostitutes. Figuring neither answer was going to help Atlantis's bottom line, John took a step back. "I'll just leave you to...do whatever it is you need to do." "No!" McKay yelped, reaching out to grab John's wrist. "Vala, Aeryn, go mingle or something. Don't do anything illegal. Vala, don't flash anyone." Aeryn nodded sharply and wandered in the direction of the nearest four-star general. Vala draped herself a little more firmly on McKay's shoulder. "Are you sure?" she asked with a pout. "Yes," McKay said instantly. "I already have a date." He jerked John closer. "See?" Vala glared at John. John merely raised his eyebrows back mildly and tried to act like he knew what was going on. "Fine," Vala spat. "But when you finally crack, McKay, I'm charging you double." She stalked off in Zelenka's direction. Zelenka saw her coming, however, and abandoned his conversation with Weir to make a mad rush for the door. Vala smoothly shifted direction and ended up at Weir's side, lifting two flutes of champagne from Ronon's tray with a sultry smile. All traces of her earlier anger gone, Vala proceeded to openly flirt with the Senator. Weir didn't appear to be entirely immune to Vala's advances and John wondered if maybe he should have assigned Teyla to Weir after all. Next to him, McKay sighed. "She's psychopathic, you know." "She doesn't seem to like you much," John said, but then reconsidered. "Or maybe she likes you too much." "It's a competition," McKay said with a shrug. "I slept with Aeryn once." John choked on his champagne. McKay didn't seem to notice. "Vala's been trying to nail me ever since." "Uh," John said, wondering what the hell you said to someone who had just openly admitted to sleeping with a prostitute. Nothing was coming to mind, so he took the coward's way out. Draining his champagne glass, he gestured with it and headed for the kitchen. Halfway there, he heard a thin man with long, stringy hair say in a snotty tone, "Oh, look, the hookers have arrived." A quick glance at McKay's horrified expression confirmed that he'd heard. John closed his eyes and said a little prayer for patience. The ball hadn't even started yet and already this event was turning into a nightmare. At this rate, Atlantis Catering would be out of a job by dint of the fact that McKay would never host a party again. Plastering on his best polite smile, John sidled up to the obnoxious man. "You know, there's an open bar tonight," he said casually. The long haired man looked interested. "I didn't think that started till after dinner." "For you, we'll make an exception," John said. The man's eyes narrowed, and John quickly covered with, "We couldn't fit the bar in here, but the waiters will be happy to get you anything you want." Out of the man's line of sight, John gestured for Teyla, who began making her way over. A second later, the long haired man was placing an order and John let out a sigh of relief. Crisis averted. "Son of a bitch." Crap. John spun around to see McKay glaring at a pair of new arrivals. The shorter of the two was wearing a neat tux and his entire demeanor screamed "US Senator". The other man was tall, slightly overweight, and had disastrous hair. He was also dressed in Armani and was inspecting the room with a supercilious air that for some reason made John think of McKay. Judging from the look of scathing contempt McKay was giving the supercilious man in return, John guessed the new arrival was the competition. And, judging from the way McKay was storming forward towards the competition, the room was soon to be treated to one hell of a scene. John sighed, gestured for Ronon and Teyla to bring more champagne, and followed McKay. Hopefully he'd be able to control the damage. Somehow. "What the hell are you doing here, Cowen?" McKay snapped when he reached the supercilious man. Cowen offered up a slick, ingratiating smile and John instantly decided that he didn't like him. He didn't want to inadvertently make things worse, however, so he hung back a few steps and tried to look unobtrusive. "I was invited," Cowen said smugly. For a horrified moment, John thought Sora was responsible for this as well -- in which case she obviously hadn't been fired soon enough -- until Cowen added, "As Senator Kinsey's guest." John didn't follow politics generally, but even he knew that Kinsey was one of the loudest advocates for a ban on gay marriage. Senator Kinsey smiled arrogantly; John wanted to punch him. Fortunately for everyone involved, Aeryn and Vala chose that moment to make an appearance. Vala draped herself over Cowen in what John was starting to suspect was her signature move, while Aeryn politely introduced herself to Kinsey. John took advantage of the distraction to drag McKay away. Once they were safely out of hearing range, John asked softly, "You okay?" "No," McKay snapped. "No offense, because your food really is quite good, far better than the over-spiced slop served last time, but I'd trade in my next patent if everyone suddenly got food poisoning and had to go home." John patted him on the shoulder. "Sorry," he said. "Not going to happen. But I might be able to get dinner out a few minutes early. How does that sound? I'll even make sure Cowen and that asshole Kinsey are seated in the very back of the room." McKay turned to him with eyes as blue as a summer sky. "You do that, and I'll love you forever." Held captive by those brilliant eyes, John swallowed hard and nodded. McKay smiled and turned back to the food table. John fled for the kitchen. ~~~ Dinner went surprisingly smoothly, probably because McKay and Cowen were on opposite sides of the room. It helped that Vala and Aeryn made sure Cowen and Kinsey didn't wander; John was grateful for their efforts as he was too busy serving to run interference. In deference to McKay (and, if he were being honest with himself, because he wasn't completely sure of his own restraint around Kinsey), John served the four tables in McKay's corner of the room. He made a production of the whole affair, offering up a healthy portion of charm with each dish. Cameron Mitchell held John's tray and looked pretty. In the cluster of tables next to them, Lorne was the one holding the tray while Miko served. Judging from Miko's smile, she was hearing a lot of compliments on her raspberry vinaigrette and bruschetta. Lorne managed to give off the impression that he wasn't bored out of his mind with his current task, which was a rare talent. John made a mental note to find out Lorne's first name so he could offer him a more permanent position. Teyla and Ronon handled the back of the room, each of them holding a massive tray with one hand and serving with the other. It took an enormous amount of coordination (not to mention strength) to serve Russian style, but his two siblings had the athleticism and grace to pull it off. John was pleased to see that Teyla had taken both Cowen's table and the table with the obnoxious long haired man. Ronon was an excellent waiter, but no one was better than Teyla at being polite in the face of appalling behavior. Dinner consisted of spinach lasagna, a salad of mixed spring greens with a choice of either Miko's vinaigrette or a store-bought ranch (to the disgust of both Jonas and Miko, neither chef had been able to come up with a recipe more popular than Hidden Valley), and a variety of breads. As usual, the bruschetta and garlic bread were popular at the beginning of the meal, but soon people switched over to Jonas's dinner rolls and were immediately hooked. The dense, soft-crusted rolls were Jonas's pride and joy and had already won several regional baking awards. John wasn't big on the idea of signature foods, but if he ever changed his mind Jonas's rolls would be a good choice. Determined to ensure a successful evening, John had asked Jonas to make twice the amount of food Sora had ordered and it looked like that gamble was paying off. Though there was going to be enough leftover lasagna to feed the Sheppard clan for a week, the guests made serious inroads in the backup bruschetta and rolls. The look on McKay's face when he asked for and received a third basket of rolls was easily worth the cost of the additional food, not to mention the fact that, armed with this information, John would be able to make sure future Pegasus orders were closer to what people actually ate. While the Alantis crew was serving dessert (Jonas's decadent triple layer chocolate torte cake), Zelenka moved from his seat next to McKay to stand at a small podium at the front of the room. "Hello," he said, and the murmur of conversation in the room quickly died down. "Thank you all for joining us for the fifth annual Pegasus Labs Charity Ball. I am Dr. Radek Zelenka. Most of you already know me from the last time Dr. McKay decided that dessert was more important than giving a speech." John couldn't help but glance at McKay as the audience chuckled. McKay merely lifted his chin a little higher and swiped Zelenka's cake. John grinned. Zelenka waited for the laughter to die down before he continued his speech in a more serious tone. "As I am sure you are all aware, domestic violence is an ongoing problem in America and, indeed, in the world at large. The National Coalition Against Domestic Violence is a non-profit organization committed to ending violence in our homes." He went on to describe the efforts of the NCADV and John kept a close eye on Teyla and Ronon as they cleared tables. Neither one appeared distressed by what they were hearing, but they were both very good at hiding their emotions. It was telling that they didn't protest when John sent them back to wash dishes while he and Lorne took over drinks. Fortunately Zelenka had mastered the most important aspect of speech making: keeping it short. The guests barely had time to finish their coffee and cake before Zelenka announced that it was time for dancing. John took advantage of the ensuing bustle to hurry back to the kitchen. With their usual efficiency, Teyla and Ronon had managed to work their way through all of the dishes and were currently cleaning the silverware. "Hey," John said softly. "How're you doing?" Teyla smiled and it was only because John had grown up with her that he saw the tension at the corners of her mouth. "We are fine, John," she said. After checking to make sure that Lorne and Cameron were out of earshot, she added softly, "Better now. It was just a surprise." "I'm sorry about that," John said. "I should have asked ahead of time what the charity was." By way of response, Teyla grasped John's biceps and lightly touched her forehead to his. It was something she had started soon after joining the Sheppard household, during that time when she was still flinching away from physical contact. John had figured it was her compromise on the whole issue of hugging. By holding the other person's arms down and just barely touching their foreheads, she could show affection without having to cope with a whole body pressed against hers. The gesture had taken a while to get used to, but now it was as much a part of Teyla as her serene smile and her animal grace. "We are fine," she repeated. "And we still have a job to do. Is dinner over?" John smiled at her. "I love you, sis." He patted Ronon on the shoulder. "You too, giant mountain man." "We love you as well," Teyla said with an answering smile. Ronon grunted and gave John what he no doubt considered a love tap. Pride was the only thing that kept John from stumbling forward under the blow. "We'll get the drinks ready," Teyla added. John nodded. "I'll have Jonas start the dessert trays." Five minutes later, Miko was setting up the bar, Ronon was wandering through the crowd with a tray of half-filled champagne flutes, and Teyla was proving very popular with her tray of petits fours and mini fruit tarts. John spared a minute to make sure they were doing okay before he started his next round of mingling. This time, John tried not to get caught in McKay's orbit. It would do Atlantis Catering no good to spend all of his precious networking time on one person, even someone as enthusiastic about food as Dr. Rodney McKay. Especially not now, as the dozens of dinner guests were joined by hundreds of people who had been invited just to the ball. There were far more people here than Sora had predicted, and after a half an hour of concentrated small talk John headed back to the kitchen to send in reinforcements. Jonas and Cameron had already gone home, but Lorne was still packing dishes and was willing to put in a couple more hours. John just hoped their supply of champagne held out. On his way back to the ballroom, John saw there was a line of people at the NCADV table, all of them with checkbooks at the ready. As he watched, a nearby knot of people dissolved and joined the line, leaving behind a smug looking McKay. McKay grinned at John before moving onto the next cluster of potential donors. The scientist's triumphant grin caused a sharp dart of warmth in John's chest, a sensation that John found that he didn't want to examine too closely. At any rate, he didn't have time for introspection now, not while he was surrounded by prospective clients. Keeping that thought firmly at the front of his mind, John skirted the dance floor and eyed the crowd on the other side. Most of these folks hadn't been at dinner and probably weren't as wealthy as those who had, so it was going to be harder to pitch Atlantis's services. However, it wasn't as if Atlantis was doing well enough that it could afford to be too picky about its paying clients. A monthly Pegasus Labs gig wasn't going to be enough to pay the bills. A handful of distributed business cards later, John was feeling a little more accomplished and he stepped back from his latest conversation to take a break. Immediately a tall, well built young man caught his eye. John surreptitiously checked the guy out. Black hair, green eyes, tan skin, beautiful mouth. John wondered if he was gay. Gay or straight, the man obviously felt out of his element. Instead of mingling with the other guests, he was standing with his back pressed against the nearest wall and he kept scanning the crowd as if he was looking for someone. Intrigued, John sidled over. "Lost your date?" he asked with an easy smile. The man started. Up close, he was younger than John had first guessed, probably no more than twenty. He kept shifting his shoulders, as if his suit was too tight. "Um, sort of," the boy said, still scanning the crowd. "Have you seen Lex Luthor anywhere?" John waited for a description, but none seemed to be forthcoming. "What does he look like?" The boy stared at him, as if it was inconceivable that there was someone in the world who might not know who this Luthor person was. "He's kinda tall, sort of thin. Bald." "Oh, that guy," John said. John had wondered about him -- he seemed too young to be bald naturally, but too old to have done it for kicks. Pointing towards the string quintet that was providing the music, John said, "He's over there, near the stage." The boy looked over and immediately lit up. "Thanks," he said, already moving towards Lex. [2] "You're welcome," John said, trying not to be offended by how quickly the boy had run off. After some consideration, however, John decided that he had done a good deed. Since it was in his own best interests for everyone to remember this night as a good one (not to mention the fact that he'd run out of business cards and wasn't really looking forward to serving drinks), John decided to help out a few other wallflowers. Every time he spotted someone standing alone, he'd strike up a conversation with him or her, drop a few hints about the wonder that was Atlantis Catering, and then carefully deposit his new acquaintance with a friendly looking group. Before too long, he had a handle on most of the more interesting folks in the room, and it was possible to hook up people with similar interests. By the time McKay made it over to John's side of the dance floor, John was feeling pretty good about his efforts and decided he had earned a break. Making his way over to the scientist, he asked, "How's it going?" McKay sighed. "Despite the fact that this is taking a ridiculous amount of time and effort that could have been spent far more efficiently, we're making some progress with the donations." "That's good then," John said brightly. "I'd much rather donate a million and go home," McKay said wearily. "My feet hurt. Sora's last revenge apparently included flashy shoes with woefully insufficient arch support." John patted him on the shoulder. "Just a couple more hours," he said encouragingly. McKay groaned dramatically. John hid a grin. "Would it help if I found you a cup of coffee?" "Yes," McKay said, seizing John's arm. "I would be eternally grateful." Gently, John disengaged himself from McKay's surprisingly firm grip. "I'll be right back," he promised. "Thank you," McKay said, before turning to the nearest group with a resignation written all over his expressive face. John just nodded and hurried toward the kitchen. Halfway there, he glanced back to see that McKay was speaking animatedly, rapid gestures accompanying his speech. Even without being able to hear the words, John could see the passion in McKay's face, and McKay's audience was listening raptly. Not watching where he was going, John stumbled into someone. "Oh, sorry," he said, his hands going out automatically to steady the leather clad woman he'd tripped over. "Wasn't watching where I was going." "Clearly," Vala answered, but her voice was amused. "It appears someone else had your attention," she added. "At least he is someone worth staring at." John flushed hotly. "I wasn't staring." "Of course not," she said mockingly. John was about to protest further, but Vala turned away before he had the chance. He spent a moment glaring at her back before moving on, muttering furiously to himself. What did she know, anyway? She was just a (probably highly paid) hooker. The fact that she was obsessed with McKay didn't meant that everyone else was. "I'm not obsessed with Rodney McKay," John growled under his breath as he stormed into the kitchen and started looking for coffee mugs. "He's rude and arrogant and completely lacking in self restraint. Not only am I not obsessed with him, I don't even like him." But even John had to admit that that last statement was a lie. By the time the coffee was ready, John had gotten over the worst of his embarrassment. It wasn't as if he'd been caught staring by McKay, after all. Not that he had been staring. Looking, that's what he'd been doing. Glancing. Nothing wrong with glancing. Picking up the oversized mug that he'd found in the back of one of the cabinets, John filled it with coffee, black, the way McKay had drunk it at dinner. Carrying it carefully by the handle, he started toward the door. Time to face the crowds again. When John had first started waiting for Jack's clubs, he had made the rookie mistake of watching the glasses to make sure the liquid inside didn't slosh over the sides. He spilled a lot of drinks because of it, until Jack had pulled him over and explained that the key to carrying drinks was to focus on a solid, level surface. When you focused on the constantly changing surface of the drinks themselves, it threw off your sense of balance and it made your movements jerky. When you focused on an immovable surface, like a floor or wall, your body moved smoothly. After eight years, John no longer had to consciously think about finding a focal point. He moved through the crowds gracefully and didn't spill a drop before delivering the mug into McKay's grateful hands. Once the coffee was delivered, he glanced around and realized that the room seemed a little emptier than it had been before. "Are people leaving?" McKay gulped down half the mug before answering. "Yes, finally. Thank God. I was starting to fear that, contrary to all physical laws, this time-sucking charade would never end." "Well, time does slow when you approach a black hole," John said. McKay stared at him, so he quickly covered with: "Not that I'm saying this event was a black hole or anything, I was just -- uh, never mind." McKay was still staring, a strange expression on his face. John smothered a wince. "I'm sorry?" McKay cocked his head. "That was -- that was actually very clever." John felt a ridiculous rush of pleasure at the compliment. "Thank you." "Hm," McKay said, still staring at John as if he were about to sprout antenna. Suddenly he shook his head, cleared his throat, and finished his coffee. "You wouldn't be able to get this mob out of here sooner, would you?" he asked hopefully. John grinned. "I'll see what I can do." The first step was to shut down the bar (currently manned by Teyla, as Miko had gone home at midnight) and to send Ronon and Lorne back to the kitchen. The musical quintet was disbanded next and, seeing the musicians' weary faces as they packed away their instruments, John suggested they get a cup of coffee in the kitchen before they left. Judging from the grateful looks he got in return, he'd won a few points. Lacking music, food, and alcohol, John trusted the ballroom would quickly clear out. He didn't stick around to see for himself, however, because there was still a lot of cleanup to do and he couldn't help but feel guilty about how much time he'd spent with McKay when he really should have been helping out in the back. Somehow developing a good working relationship with a potential long-term employer had morphed into the back-and-forth banter that John usually found only in really good friendships. It had been a long time since John had clicked with someone the way he had clicked with Rodney McKay and he knew that he had shamelessly indulged himself rather than keep on top of his own duties for the night. Fortunately, he had a fantastic group of co-workers who had taken up his slack. All of the gear from the reception and dinner had already been taken down and packed in the van, along with the dishes and cutlery that Jonas and Cameron had cleaned before they left. The only tasks that remained, in fact, were to wash the glasses from the ball (the desserts had been served on paper doilies) and to load them and the leftover food into the van to take back to Atlantis Catering Co's main offices (otherwise known as the Sheppard family home). "I can finish up here," John said as Teyla and Ronon loaded several trays of glasses into the dishwasher and Lorne started stacking large dishes of leftover food near the service exit. "You guys did a great job tonight. Go home and get some sleep." Lorne and Ronon immediately headed for the door, but Teyla hung back. "Are you sure?" she asked, her tired voice betraying her exhaustion. "Yeah," John said. He didn't feel tired at all -- in fact, his entire body was humming with barely-contained excitement. Despite the near-crises, this had been one of the most exciting nights of his life. "I'm too wired to sleep. Might as well take advantage of the energy while I've got it. You guys go on, though. Show Lorne a good time." Teyla's lips curved into a mischievous smile. "He is attractive." "That he is," John had to admit. "Oh, hey, while you're at it, can you find out his first name? I want to offer him a job." Teyla's smile was downright mocking now. "Of course," she said dryly. John had to admit that he probably deserved that, so he simply leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. "Good night, sis." "Good night, John." Alone in the kitchen, John made quick work of stacking the glassware into the industrial dishwasher's trays. The wash cycle took a while, however, so he used the free time to begin carrying the massive amounts of leftover food to the van. Nobody was buying groceries this week, that was for sure. "You're all alone," a voice said as he came inside for a second load. John jumped at the sound and nearly dropped his tray of meatballs. Blunt hands caught the tray just in time. "Don't drop those," McKay said. "They're the best part of the evening." "Thanks," John said, his heart beating double-time. McKay just smiled and stared at the meatballs longingly. John glanced down at the gelatinous mess of meat and near-solid gravy. "Would you like to have these?" he asked dubiously. McKay's face lit up like a kid in a candy store. "Could I?" "You paid for them," John said with a shrug and passed the tray over. McKay took the meatballs back with a reverent expression on his face. Then his eyes turned crafty. "By that logic, I've paid for the dinner rolls as well." John couldn't help it, he laughed. "Yep, and the cake, too. Just let me know what you want and I'll pack it up for you." "The rolls," McKay said instantly. "And the cake. Oo, and the tarts. And maybe some of the bruschetta." John shook his head, but started pulling trays from the stack next to the door. "I doubt even you will be able to eat all of this," he said, chuckling. "I just intend to get the best value for my hard earned money," McKay said loftily. "Which reminds me." He pulled out a checkbook. "You don't need to do that," John protested. "We can send you the bill." McKay just waved away his protests and started writing. "If you send an invoice it'll be shunted directly accounting and I'll never get to see it. This way I can pay you for actual services rendered." He ripped off the completed check and handed it over. John's eyes widened at the amount. It was nearly double the (admittedly far too low) price he had quoted Sora. "I can't take this." "Don't be stupid," McKay said. "Not only did you make way more food than Sora ordered -- and can I just say how nice it was not to run out of bread for once -- you also helped with both Cowen and Vala and you somehow managed to shut Kavanagh up. You earned it." "Oh. Well." John glanced back at the check. They really could use the money, especially if Lorne agreed to sign on. And it wasn't as if Pegasus Labs was hurting for funds. "Okay," he said, folding the check and slipping it in the suit jacket's inside pocket. Then he ran his fingers inside the pocket, just to make sure the check made it in safely. He thought about checking again with his other hand, but decided that might make him look a little desperate, so he forced his hands to his pants pockets. At which point he remembered that he still had food to pack for McKay, so he ripped his hands out of his pants and started dumping rolls into a plastic bag. After a few moments, McKay pulled out another bag and began filling it with meatballs. "I was watching you tonight," McKay said in a suspiciously casual voice. John blinked. "Yeah?" "Yes. You're very good with people." "Thanks." They packed more food in silence. "Lex Luthor said you were very nice to his friend Clark." Clark must be the name of Mr. Tall, Beautiful, and Barely Legal. John definitely remembered him. "I didn't do anything," John said honestly. "Still, you made a good impression. And not just with Luthor. Several people took the time to tell me how charming you are. Even Weir noticed." McKay closed his bag of bruschetta and turned to lean against the counter. "John, I'd like to offer you a job." John dropped his still-open bag of cake. "What?" "I want to hire you. As a host." McKay's chin lifted slightly. "While I am without a doubt the most brilliant man you will ever meet, I've found that the average attendee of our events does not fully appreciate genius. Since our continued access to classified government projects depends on how happy people are at these parties -- which is a sad commentary on the state of both the US military and politics, I might add -- we need someone who can pander to their desires. Someone who can make them happy and comfortable and, ideally, willing to sign over any and all interesting research contracts they might have available. We need someone like you." John stared. "I--I--I don't know what to say." "I'll pay you an extra thousand per event," McKay said instantly. "And another thousand as a tip for any additional work your staff has to take on because of this new arrangement." Two thousand dollars. Two thousand dollars. And all John would have to do was do exactly what he had done tonight. John had enjoyed what he'd done tonight. To be paid to continue to do it seemed too good to be true. However, there was something he had to clear up first. Sora had made some pretty unreasonable demands before switching from the Hilton to Atlantis, and there was no way they could continue to cater Pegasus events at the same rate as they had planned to invoice for this one. The extra two grand wouldn't be enough if they kept losing five bucks a plate. "I underbid the contract," John blurted, hoping he wasn't throwing away a huge opportunity. McKay rolled his eyes. "Is this supposed to be a surprise to me? Even if I hadn't been a genius, I'd have known you weren't charging enough. No wonder we didn't get enough bread at the Hilton." "So next time--" "Yes, yes, yes," McKay said, waving away John's biggest worry like it meant nothing. "Next time we'll pay you a fair price for your services. I don't know why you'd doubt me, since I paid you a fair price for your services this time." John blushed hotly at the truth of the statement. God, what must McKay think of him? "I'm sorry, I didn't--" "I'll even let you pass out your business cards," McKay interrupted. "Really?" John asked. This was starting to feel like a very surreal dream. Or maybe like the bargaining scene from Pretty Woman. Not that John had watched Pretty Woman. Well, okay, so he had watched it, but only because Laura had made him. McKay glanced away, looking annoyed. "Apparently some people found it cute," he muttered, spitting out the last word like it was a curse. John wasn't particularly happy about being referred to as cute, but right now the promise of an extra two thousand dollars on a regular basis more than compensated for any of the potential downsides, so he simply said, "I'm in." "Really?" McKay asked, a hopeful smile touching the corners of his crooked mouth. John flushed again, this time from pleasure. "Really." "You'd have to work under me," McKay warned. "I don't think that'll be a problem," John answered with grin. "I'd like to work under you." At that, McKay's own smile disappeared as if it had been cut off. John frowned. "What?" McKay shook his head and picked up a couple of the food bags. "It's late. I should let you get back to work." John didn't know what he'd done wrong, but he did know he didn't want McKay to leave like that. Casting about for a point of conversation, his eye landed on an unwashed silver, black, and teal coffee cup, probably left over from the musicians. "Wait," he said quickly. "What about the tablecloths and plate Sora sent?" "Throw it away," McKay said, his voice carrying none of the animation that had made him so interesting earlier in the evening. "It's an eyesore." "But it really isn't that bad," John protested. "I mean, it's a shock at first, but it grows on you." McKay shrugged and picked up a couple of food-filled plastic bags in each hand. "Keep it, then." Before John could recover from the fact that he had just been gifted with at least ten thousand dollars worth of plate, McKay turned to leave. At the door of the kitchen, however, he stopped. "You don't have to charm me, John," he said quietly. "I'd much rather you just tell me the truth." And before John could recovered from that, Rodney McKay was gone. ~~~ The next morning, John gave himself half an hour to celebrate just how awesome the previous night had gone. Not only had they done a fantastic job with the ball's catering, but John himself had single-handedly managed to wrangle an extra two grand per gig. He was the man, if he did say so himself. Then he allowed himself five minutes to wonder what the hell was up with Dr. McKay. What had John said to upset him so much? It seemed like McKay had been angry about the (in retrospect) unfortunate pun about working under him. Was that really it? It seemed kind of petty, but maybe he had offended McKay's heterosexual worldview or something. More importantly, whatever the reason for McKay's anger, was he going to hold a grudge? That thought disturbed John more than he would care to admit, and he allowed himself another few minutes to come up with ways to placate McKay, just in case the scientist was still angry. After that, John had planned on taking some time to decide where he was going to store his recently acquired, barely used, complete table service for a hundred and twenty five (with tablecloths!), but before he got that far, he remembered Carson. Muttering curses, he rolled out of bed and hit the shower. As he drove to Carson's house, John tried to reassure himself with the fact that if something was seriously wrong with his brother, Laura would have told him. Except that Laura and Aiden had had their audition yesterday, and there was a distinct possibility that even if Carson was in serious trouble, he would have tried to deal with it himself rather than distract his favorite sister on her big day. Carson probably thought he was being unselfish by keeping his trouble to himself, when the exact opposite was true. They were family, damn it. You didn't keep your family in the dark. Carson wasn't home. Nor was he at his office. By the time John had verified that Carson's church (Carson and Teyla had bucked the Sheppard family tradition of non-religious affiliation and started going to church as teenagers, albeit of different denominations) was also distinctly free of Sheppard family members, John was beginning to panic and, as he jogged down the cathedral steps, he called Laura. She didn't pick up. John growled lightly and called her again. On the fifth ring a groggy, grumpy voice said, "If someone isn't dead, I'm killing you." She could do it too, and probably make it look like an accident, but John was too worried to care. "When was the last time you heard from Carson?" "Friday," Laura said, and there was a thump as if she had fallen out of bed. When she spoke again, she sounded anxious and alert. "Why? What happened?" "He was acting really strange when I talked to him Friday afternoon," John said. "And now I can't find him anywhere, not at home or the office or even at his church." Now he could hear the bed squeaking and clothes rustling. "Where are you?" "The church." "Great. Stay put, I'll be right there." She hung up. John turned off his own phone and sank down on the hood of his car. Laura might be half a decade younger than him and had certainly sounded hungover as all hell, but the thought of her coming to help eased some of his anxiety. By the time she pulled up in her cherry red Corvette, John had his emotions under control and was able to tell her exactly what Carson had said on Friday. Laura frowned. "That doesn't sound like him." "I know." John rubbed his hands roughly over his face. "I was hoping he'd talked to you about it." "No, he didn't." Laura sounded exactly the way John had when Aiden had broken his arm while blowing up the potting shed: worried and very, very pissed. "You can yell at him when we find him," John said. "Any ideas?" "Probably a park," Laura said with a sigh. "He likes to watch the dogs." "Great," John said, feeling better now that there was at least the possibility of forward momentum in the search. "Which ones?" "Orion or Daeldalus," she said after a moment of consideration. "Daeldalus has the biggest dog park, but Orion's quiet." "I'll take Orion," John said, primarily because he figured that Carson would be at the one with the most dogs and he wanted Laura to be the one to find their wayward brother. Aside from the closeness of Laura and Carson's relationship, the fact was that no one who valued his life would lie to Laura. Carson's dishonesty had been bad enough over the phone. John didn't think he could take it if Carson lied to his face. Before Laura could peel out of the parking lot with her usual disregard of all traffic laws, John remembered. "Wait, how did your audition go?" Laura smiled wanly. "We got the job." John swallowed hard and wished he could hug her, but he and Laura had never had that kind of relationship. "Congratulations," he said instead. Laura nodded sharply and popped the car into gear. By the time John got to his car, she was out of sight. Of course, John was the one to find Carson. Of course he was. Damn it. When he called Laura to let her know, she just said, "I should have known," and promised to be there in twenty minutes. For one shameful, cowardly moment, John considered waiting for her. It would be so easy to just find a park bench and sit down until Laura arrived, and really, it wasn't as if Carson would know the difference. But John was the head of this family, and it was beneath him to hide from his brother, especially this brother, his first sibling. He'd helped raise Carson, and John wasn't about to throw that connection away now, no matter how much Carson's behavior was scaring him. So, burying his hands deep in his pockets, John walked over to Carson's bench. "Hey," he said, once he was close. Carson didn't turn around. "Hi." After a hesitation, John joined Carson on the bench. Together they watched the dogs playing in the tiny dog park, just a few smaller breeds and one old greyhound who was stoically enduring the attentions of a perky terrier. "Laura's on her way," John finally said. Carson winced. "Hey," John said defensively. "It's your own fault. You were the one who disappeared on us." "I know," Carson said. "And I'm sorry. I just needed time to work some things out." John leaned back and tried to look like his heart wasn't thumping away in his throat. "Yeah? Like what?" There was a long silence before Carson answered. "I met my biological father yesterday." John stared at his brother, stunned. "Are you sure?" "As sure as I can be without a paternity test," Carson said, his eyes still locked on the romping canines. "Which he's offered to take." "How did he find you? Better yet, why didn't he get you when your mom died? Why now?" "He says he didn't know at the time, that he didn't find out until a few years ago and that he's been looking for me ever since." Carson took a deep breath and added, "John, I'm Scottish." John blinked. "Uh, okay." "No, really. I was born in Scotland. I wasn't even a US citizen until the adoption." John let out a long, low whistle. "Wow." Carson buried his head in his hands. "Exactly. And my father, he's apparently a really important guy in Scotland. A geneticist. He's wealthy." "Well, that's cool," John said tentatively. "Right?" "He wants to put me in his will." "Oh. Okay." John sat back and wondered what he could possibly say at this point. Repeating 'that's cool' probably wouldn't cut it. "So are you going to do the paternity test?" "Of course. If he's not my father then none of this matters, right? But if he is--" Carson sighed. "What should I do, John? What does one do in this position?" John had six siblings, every one of them adopted. An outside observer might think that that gave John some kind of insight into the mind of an adopted child, but the only insight John ever got from the situation was the fact that he would never truly understand what it meant to lose your parents and then be given to someone else's. That was a bridge between John and his siblings that John would never be able to cross, no matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much he loved his family. Fortunately, Carson didn't wait for an answer before speaking again. "I want you to meet him." John gulped, but before he had a chance to reply a screech of tires announced Laura's arrival. They both looked back to see the blonde striding over with murder in her eyes and John heard Carson make a small sound suspiciously close to a whimper. John didn't blame him. Laura stopped in front of them and glared at Carson. "I hate you." Then she reached down and pulled Carson up into a tight embrace and Carson buried his head in Laura's neck and held her with all of his strength. John smiled at them sadly and walked away, giving them time to be alone. In the safety of his car, John pulled out his phone and called Teyla. She picked up on the second ring. "Hello, John." "Laura and Aiden got the job," he blurted out, and then pressed his lips shut before he could say any more. Carson's incredible news felt like a living being pushing against the back of John's teeth, demanding release, but it was Carson's news to give or to keep to himself. As it was, Aiden was going to kill him for taking away his moment of triumph. "I know," Teyla said. "Aiden called us last night." Then again, maybe not. John let out a silent sigh of relief, and moved on to the reason for his call. "So, did you have a chance to find out Lorne's first name?" Teyla chuckled. "Looking for details?" she asked archly. John flushed. "No! No, actually, I'd rather avoid them if that's all right with you. It's just that we're already short staffed and it's just going to get worse now that Laura and Aiden won't be available. We need Lorne." "Evan." John frowned. "What?" "His name is Evan," Teyla said. "But he prefers to be called by his last name." John straightened in outrage. "Why that little punk." Teyla chuckled again. "He said you deserved it. That you played him." John slumped back guiltily. "That might be true." "Oh, John." Teyla sighed and in his mind, John could see her shaking her head at him. "You can't keep doing this," she said after a moment. "It's making you miserable." If anyone else had had the temerity to tell him how he felt, John would have hung up on him or her. Because it was Teyla, however, he closed his eyes and said, "I know." He took a deep shuddering breath and added, "Maybe I deserve to be miserable." "No," Teyla said instantly. "You don't." "Alex seemed to think so," John whispered. "Alex was a fucking bastard," Teyla snapped back. Despite the stinging in his eyes, John felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Teyla never swore, not unless she was talking about Alex. It felt good to have all of that righteous indignation on his side. "You know I love you, right, sis?" "I know." Teyla said, anger gone, her voice full of affection. John hastily wiped his eyes. What this conversation needed was a little levity. "And you know you're my favorite sister." "I thought Miko was your favorite," Teyla said, sounding amused. Warmth welled up in John's chest, as slow and sweet as honey. "You're both my favorite." There was a long, comfortable silence and John thought once again how lucky he was to have these incredible people in his life. Teyla, with her quiet strength; Carson with his easy affection; Miko with her brilliant mind; Laura with her fierce loyalty; Aiden with his unbridled enthusiasm; and, of course, Ronon, who watched over them all. Every one of them brilliant in his or her own way, every one of them remarkable. While John could never dream of matching their potential, it was worth a lot just to be a part of this extraordinary family. John was a Sheppard. Whatever else he did in his life, he would always be a Sheppard. John hugged that thought close to him, like a warm blanket on a cold night. "John?" "Yeah?" Teyla hesitated, and John's wandering thoughts abruptly focused on his sister. "What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong," Teyla said, quickly reassuring him. "In fact, it's just the opposite. Ronon and I have something to tell you, but it's not something that can be said over the phone. We had intended to wait till Monday, but--" "I'll be right over," John said. "Give me half an hour." John glanced back to see Carson and Laura still holding each other. Deciding that they would be okay, he slid into the car, shoved his keys into the ignition, and turned the engine over, his mind already racing ahead to wonder what big news was coming next. Oh God. What if Teyla was pregnant? Big news that could only be shared in person? Big news that included both her and Ronon. Oh, god. It sounded like she was pregnant. John slammed his foot down on the accelerator and tore out of the parking lot. ~~~ John considered himself a pretty laid-back, go-with-the-flow kind of guy. Right now, however, he was pretty sure he was developing an ulcer. "A loan," he repeated numbly, staring at the professional-looking proposal that Teyla had just handed to him. "You need me to co-sign your business loan." "Ronon and I have no credit," Teyla explained, as if John wasn't already perfectly aware of that fact. "We'd hoped our savings would be enough, but a business such as this requires a significant initial capital investment and we can't wait much longer." "No one wants old bodyguards," Ronon said in his gruff voice. John suspected it was rusty because Ronon didn't use it often enough. "That's probably true," John said helplessly. He thumbed through the proposal, but all he saw was a blur. Finally he swallowed hard and just said it: "You're leaving the company." "It's our dream," Teyla said gently. There was nothing John could say to that. Nothing, except: "Then of course I'll co-sign your loan." The blinding smiles on both Teyla and Ronon's faces almost made up for the enormous lump sitting in John's throat. "When do you need me to do it?" he croaked. "Next Wednesday," Teyla said promptly. "We have an appointment with the bank in the afternoon." John took a deep breath, held it for a second, and let it out in a whoosh. He felt marginally calmer, calm enough that he was able to ask for details in a neutral tone. Calm enough that as Teyla explained how she and Ronon had been planning this for months -- months -- he was able to smile and nod and turn his mind to more pleasant matters. Like Miko, for instance. Miko would never leave him. Well, at least not for another two years, anyway, since she was living at home while finishing her graduate work. And Jonas, he was around for good, or at least until someone offered him more than John could pay. Hm. Maybe it was time to consider offering Jonas a raise. Now that they were sure of the Pegasus contract they could afford it, though if John didn't find an entirely new waiting staff between now and the next event, there wouldn't be any Pegasus contract. Which meant he was going to have to buckle down and call Lorne, no matter how much groveling it was going to entail, and that was just a stopgap, because with losing Laura, Aiden, Ronon, and Teyla, they were going to need better help than John was going to be able to find in his little black book-- "--can fly," Teyla finished and stared at John. John blinked back and realized that he had completely lost track of the conversation. "Oh, um, right." Teyla's lips tightened to hold back laughter and Ronon snorted in obvious amusement. John winced. "Sorry, just...working out a few details." At that, Teyla's face softened. "We're not abandoning you," she said gently, reaching out to rest her hand on John's forearm, which John found ridiculously comforting. "Ronon and I will continue to work for Atlantis while we set up the technical side of our own business. That will give you time to find replacements." John let out a puff of air that almost managed to be a laugh. "You and Ronon can't be replaced." Teyla smiled warmly and pulled John into her own, unique embrace. As their foreheads touched, she murmured, "Everything will be all right, John. You'll see." ~~~ After leaving Teyla and Ronon's apartment, John decided to get some lunch before calling Lorne. Not that he was particularly hungry, but it didn't seem like a good idea to eat crow on an empty stomach. Besides, now that he'd resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to be able to solve his waiting problems on his own, it was time to see Jack. John had to hurry, though, or he'd lose his chance for the week. Jack O'Neill had two great loves of his life: his business and his fishing. When John first started working for him, the restaurateur was working an insane number of hours each week, spending every night and most days in his restaurants and clubs. Now that his business was an unequivocal success, Jack was putting the same amount of dedication into his fishing. He came into the city on weekends to keep an eye on the crowd levels and to take care of any administrative matters his managers couldn't handle on their own, but by Sunday afternoon he was heading back out to his cabin in Pine Mountain Club where he'd stay until Friday night or Saturday morning. John had a secret dream to one day be able to do the same, only his cabin would be on a private beach and would have lots of guest rooms in case his family wanted to stop by for a visit. After a couple of tries, John tracked Jack down at Nox. Nox was one of Jack's more modest successes, but it was easily John's favorite of Jack's empire. It was a funky little place with low lights, low music, lots of little alcoves for privacy, and a bevy of unassuming plants that one usually found in the woods, rather than in LA restaurants. Though John had never seen Jack's cabin -- Jack never invited anyone to his cabin -- he would lay money on it being a lot like Nox. Or, more accurately, Nox was probably a lot like Jack's cabin. Once John confirmed with the hostess that Jack was there, he ordered a turkey sandwich to be delivered to Jack's table and headed back to find his mentor. Jack was hidden away in one of the smallest alcoves, talking on his cell phone, and his normally neutral face lit up when John poked his head in. John ruefully told himself that this visit was probably overdue. "I'll have to call you back, Sam," Jack said into the phone as he waved John into the table's other chair. John cocked his head at the affection in Jack's voice. That wasn't a usual tone for Jack. In fact, Jack's voice was usually dry and amused. Distant, without being off-putting. Charming, but untouchable. Jack grinned suddenly at whatever the man on the other end of the line said, but after a quick glance at John, he smothered the smile. "Yeah," Jack said, subtly shifting his body so that he was turned away from John. "Me, too." He turned the phone off and snapped it shut before turning back, his casual expression belied by the joy that was radiating from every line of his body. Well, shit. It looked like Jack was gay. Which meant John owed Aiden ten bucks. "So, who's the lucky fella?" he asked, trying to sound like he wasn't prying, even though they both knew he totally was. "No one you know," Jack said, leaning back and crossing his arms. Before John could ask another leading question, Jack added, "I hear last night was a success." John grinned and let the change of topic slide. He could always ask around later; waiters lived to gossip. "Yeah, it was." He leaned forward. "We've been hired by Pegasus Labs indefinitely." "Nice," Jack said, dragging out the word and nodding in appreciation. "Tell me, is McKay the asshole that everyone says he is?" John's grin slipped away as he wondered exactly who 'everyone' was. "No, he's not," he said sharply. "Actually, he's very--" nice? friendly? charming? blunt? "--interesting." Jack raised an eyebrow. John tried not to blush. "Did you hear about Laura and Aiden?" he asked quickly. "They got an effects job." "Really," Jack said, with a smirk. "Anything I might have heard of?" "It's a Rod Johnson movie." John grinned with pride. "I see they're playing to their strengths." Jack leaned forward. "How many of your dishes do they break?" "I try not to think about it," John said with a shudder. "You had the right idea with Laura at Furlings. If I could afford to have her do nothing but chop vegetables, I would." "She was damn fine at turning whole vegetables into tiny bits," Jack agreed. He inspected John closely and John tried not to squirm. "So with Aiden and Laura off your roster, how are you doing for wait staff?" No one ever said Jack was dumb. Well, no one who really knew him, anyway. "Not good," John admitted. "And Ronon and Teyla are leaving as well." "What?" "I just found out today," John said, trying to sound supportive, rather than miserable. "They're starting up their own business. Personal protection." "Hm." Jack settled back into his chair. "They'll make excellent bodyguards." "I know, I know, it's just--" John sighed. "It just feels like everyone's drifting off." "And leaving you behind?" John scowled at the shrewd bastard sitting across from him. Jack just laughed. "Tell you what -- I have a couple of waiters that you might be able to use. Lots of experience, look good in the uniforms, never forget an order." John's brow furrowed. "What's wrong with them?" "Nothing," John said, his face full of innocence that John didn't buy for a second. Still, he needed the staff and he knew Jack would never give him someone completely unusable. "All right," John sighed. "What are their names?" ~~~ Within five minutes of meeting his new waiters, John knew what was wrong with them. Daniel Jackson, an archeological undergrad who was waiting to help offset the enormous cost of living in LA, never stopped talking. Never. It was a constant stream of words, most of them on subjects that no one cared about, like dead languages and the importance of pottery design on ancient Egyptian culture. Lorne, who had shamelessly used John's difficult position to negotiate an exorbitant salary before agreeing to come back, spent most of his prep time peppering Daniel with questions, all of which Daniel was happy to answer. At length. John suspected Lorne was doing it just to be mean. Teal'c, on the other hand, never said a word. At all. Which meant that John had no idea where he had come from or what he was doing in LA, though his best guess was that he was from a small African country and was hoping to break into the business. If that was the case, Teal'c was probably out of luck. There wasn't much call for enormous actors that could neither speak, nor emote. Well, except for the obvious, but John figured if Teal'c was willing to do porn, he probably wouldn't be working as a waiter. Which was good for Atlantis, since Teal'c was fantastically strong, and would probably be able to take over most of the heavy work that Ronon and Teyla had previously handled. Best of all, despite the bizarre audio effect of constant noise on one side and constant silence on the other, Daniel and Teal'c worked well as a team and a few trial runs demonstrated that they knew how to handle a full tray of drinks. John decided to give them a test run at the sports banquet Atlantis was catering on Friday. Unfortunately, another staffing problem happened on Tuesday, when Cameron called to report that he'd gotten an acting gig, working opposite muppets in a low-budget sci-fi show. In Australia. [3] John gave the show a week before it was cancelled, but that didn't help his current predicament. After a surprisingly pleasant chat with Lorne -- presumably Lorne was getting tired of mocking, because John didn't think his own status as Lorne's boss carried all that much weight -- about Lorne's unemployed friends, John found himself with a hyperactive Japanese man named Hiro [4], who didn't speak much English, but whose enthusiasm somehow managed to make up for it. By the end of the meet-and-greet, Teyla and Ronon had adopted the new waiter, and Miko had deigned to let him try her latest experiment in pesto. Thursday, John got a call in the middle of the banquet prep. He tossed his wet towel to Lorne and ran to the office to grab the phone. "Atlantis Catering." A polite female voice answered. "May I speak to John Sheppard, please?" John dropped into his chair. "Speaking." "Hi, Mr. Sheppard," the woman said. "My name is Kate Heightmeyer. I've just been hired as the director of public relations for Pegasus Labs. You'll be working with me now." "What?" John said numbly. "Dr. McKay hired me to organize Pegasus events," Kate said, speaking slowly, as if she wasn't sure of John's intelligence. "But I thought--" John cut himself off. It didn't matter what he thought. He could freak out about McKay's sudden change of heart later. Right now he had a job to do. John cleared his throat and dug deep to find a bit of charm. "I'm sorry, you just surprised me. Congratulations on your new position." "Thank you," Kate said coolly. John grimaced. Apparently he hadn't made the best first impression. Nothing could be done for it now, however, except to try and change her mind. "So what can I do for you?" There was the distinct sound of rustling papers in the background, and when Kate spoke again her voice was brisk and business-like. "I'm calling to make sure you are fully apprised of all coming events. The next two months are critical to Pegasus's success. I want to be sure we're all on the same page." "Right," John said, leaning out into the hallway to see the events calendar. "You've got something coming up in just a couple of weeks, right?" John knew it wasn't physically possible, but it certainly seemed like the handset got several degrees colder. "The Thanksgiving Ball," Kate said flatly. "Exactly," John said hastily. "That's what I meant." Disapproval poured off of the phone in waves. John winced. "You have the Christmas and New Year Eve's Balls as well. And the Masquerade Ball in January." He bet there was something Valentine related in February, but Sora hadn't wanted to commit to anything that far in advance. "Right," Kate said, sounding slightly mollified, though still annoyed. John sighed silently. They talked for the next half hour, discussing potential last minute location changes -- apparently no one was happy with the Hilton, though there weren't many unbooked alternatives this late in the season -- and party sizes. The Masquerade Ball was going to be the biggest of the four, with two hundred at the reception (no dinner, thank goodness) and up to five hundred at the ball itself. By comparison, the Thanksgiving Ball was going to be intimate -- no more than a hundred at the ball and thirty at dinner. By the end of the conversation, John felt he had regained a little ground in Kate's eyes, which was a huge relief, since he was now working with her instead of McKay. He was no longer working with McKay. John ripped into a head of lettuce with unnecessary force, scattering leaves everywhere. He wasn't working with McKay any longer. After taking the time to pull John aside to praise him and his crew and to offer them a job in perpetuity, Rodney McKay had decided that he no longer had time to work with John himself. Instead, he went out and hired a PR woman. A PR woman. What the hell-- Miko's hand on John's wrist interrupted his thoughts. "I don't want to have to go on another lettuce run," she said mildly. John looked at the bowl of lettuce bits and flushed. "I guess it's shredded enough." "I think so." Miko released his arm and stood back. "Is everything all right?" "Fine," John said automatically. He wiped lettuce juice off of his hands, staining the towel green. Glancing around the kitchen, he saw that everyone was studiously not looking at him. "Maybe I should go for a drive." "I think that's an excellent idea," Miko said. She glanced at Jonas and lowered her voice, "Pick up some Hidden Valley on the way home." John smiled and matched her conspiratorial whisper. "Will do." She nodded in satisfaction and went back to the barbecue sauce bubbling gently on the stove. Pulled pork barbecue with baked beans, potato salad, and mixed spring greens was the standard Atlantis meal for sporting banquets, along with Jonas's famous rolls, of course, and Oreo pudding, which was basically French silk pie spread out over a large pan. They'd made this particular meal dozens of times before, and the kitchen was moving like clockwork, each component part doing its job smoothly and quickly, coming together to create a delicious meal that could feed a hundred in less time than most people spent on a meal for ten. He smiled at their smooth efficiency and his blood pressure lowered enough that he was able to start thinking about the best place to buy ranch dressing as he walked to his car. The good mood lasted until he opened his driver's side door and was struck with an ugly thought: if McKay now had a PR woman, why would he need someone else to host his parties? John's body flashed cold, then hot. He slammed the car door hard as he climbed in and he peeled out of the parking lot with a disregard for traffic safety that Laura would have applauded. How dare he? How dare that bastard fire him? Without notice, without provocation. Hell, without even the courtesy of telling him to his face. Or, really, telling him at all. What kind of jackass did that to someone? Well, what kind of jackass just took it? John snarled lightly and turned his car around, ranch dressing forgotten. It was time for a little talk with Dr. Rodney McKay. ~~~ By the time he reached Pegasus Labs, John had calmed down enough to put a polite smile on his face as he greeted Stackhouse, the front desk receptionist/guard/bouncer for the building. "I'm going to McKay's office," he said. Stackhouse was one of the many people John had charmed as part of his efforts to woo Pegasus Labs into the Atlantis family, and now all of that work paid off as Stackhouse shook his head and just answered, "Better you than me," as he passed over the sign-in sheet. John kept up the smile as he filled in his name and arrival time. The smile slipped away as he headed for the elevator, however, and by the time he reached the offices on the fifth floor, he was raging again. Blowing right past Sora's old desk, John threw open the door to McKay's office. "You son of a bitch." McKay looked up from his laptop, a soft pretzel dangling from a hand frozen halfway to his mouth. "What?" "You son of a bitch." At that, McKay dropped the pretzel and hit a button on his phone. "Zelenka? I need some help here." John slammed the door shut. "Why, McKay? What the hell did I do wrong, huh?" McKay glanced around the room, as if expecting to see some other McKay in the office. "How did you get in here and what the hell are you talking about?" His eyes suddenly narrowed. "You haven't suffered a recent blow to the head, have you?" he asked suspiciously. John banged on McKay's desk with his fists and leaned in close. "I'm talking about Kate Heightmeyer, you prick. I'm talking about the woman you hired to replace me." Comprehension flooded McKay's face, followed immediately by confusion. "Wait--" Just then the door opened and Zelenka's head popped in. "Problem?" McKay leaned sideways to see the door around John. "I think I broke him," he said, pointing at John. Zelenka shot McKay a look of withering scorn before turning and leaving, shutting the door with more force than necessary. McKay looked shocked at the abandonment. "Why that little Czech turncoat," he muttered. He stood up and walked around John as if he wasn't even there. "Assistant Director my ass," he added. "If he's not going to even look into the personnel issues around here or sign the damn payroll checks..." John lost some of his fury in confusion. "Uh, Dr. Mckay?" McKay stopped and glanced back, his hand on the doorknob. "Yes? Oh, right." He turned back to face John, his arms crossed defensively in front of his chest. "Look, I didn't fire you. Heightmeyer isn't taking over catering or hosting duties." "Oh," John said. The rest of his anger washed away, leaving him embarrassed and empty. "Then why did you hire her? I thought I was going to be reporting directly to you." "Sure, for anything related to food. I like food. I'm good with food. I'm happy to spend moderate amounts of time deciding which foods will make an insufferable social event bearable. But for the rest of the logistics--" McKay shrugged. "I don't know how you go about renting a space for a ball and I certainly don't care. As for deciding who to invite and figuring out the invitations--" He shuddered. "I'd rather spend the day working with Kavanagh." "Oh," John said again. Now he felt stupid and more than a little contrite. He was also starting to feel a small wave of panic as he realized just how badly he had screwed up here. Thinking about how he had stormed into the office and cursed out his most important client, John flushed hotly. "I'm sorry," he said. "Yes, well," McKay huffed. "It's a good thing you have an exceptional chef." "And I help you bag up the leftovers," John offered hopefully. "That, too," McKay allowed. He cleared his throat and fidgeted for a moment before adding, "And, well, maybe I should have called you. About Heightmeyer. So you'd know what was going on." John wanted to say something scathing about how that would have been the decent thing to do, but he wasn't exactly standing on the moral high ground here. Instead, he said, "Next time, then." He cleared his throat and asked tentatively, "Will there be a next time?" McKay frowned. "What?" Now John wished he hadn't brought it up, but it wasn't like he had much choice. People were depending on this job. He had to be perfectly clear on where he and Atlantis Catering stood. "I'm really sorry about coming in here like this, and about what I said. I understand if you don't think you can work with me anymore, but if you think you can, I promise you I'll do everything in my power to help make this right." McKay's frown deepened, so John added quickly, "And if you can't, we'll arrange another contact for you at Atlantis. You don't have to see me if you don't want to, but please, give Atlantis another chance." McKay stared at John. "I'm not going to fire you. Where am I going to find the time to hire another caterer? And I'm certainly not letting Heighmeyer play hostess. Have you talked to the woman? She sounds like a shrink. A cold, disapproving shrink. So, unless you've got someone else in mind to take over, you're stuck with the job." John sighed in relief. "Really?" McKay rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Seriously, Thursdays are crappy enough without having to repeat myself over and over again. You're not fired. Really, you're not. Now, could you please go away so I can finish signing payroll checks and get back to my real work?" "Right," John said quickly. "Of course." At the door, however, he stopped, unable to help himself from asking one final question. "Do you break people often?" McKay had already turned back to his laptop, but he glanced up to answer, "Not since Zelenka banned me from the main lab." John bit back a smile. "You let him do that?" "Ha. I just wish I'd thought of it first," McKay said. "Now I work on special projects full time and Zelenka gets to handle all of the HR problems." He turned away from the laptop. "Do you know, I think he actually likes interviewing prospective employees." "So do I," John said. Then he thought of Lorne. "Well, usually." "Of course you do," McKay said. It didn't sound like a compliment. John figured McKay was just jealous, but managed not to say that out loud. He'd already pushed his luck enough for one day. Instead he asked, "When do you want to get together to talk about the Thanksgiving menu?" McKay glanced back at his computer, then at the stack of unsigned checks on the corner of his desk. "How about now?" John grinned. "I think that's a great idea." They ended up going to a Starbucks. John normally tried to avoid chain stores -- as an underdog himself, it felt like treason to patronize a franchise over local retailers -- but he had to admit that the coffee wasn't bad. It was overpriced, though, which John found odd. He thought the reason big chains were so popular was because they low-balled the competition. Taking his plain black coffee, John stood back and watched them make McKay's mochachino with three shots of chocolate and three shots of espresso. There was barely enough room in the cup for a shot of milk, much less foam. McKay forked over an obscene amount of money and took the cup with all the reverence he might afford the Holy Grail. John covered a smile by taking a sip of coffee and made a mental note to recommend Jonas's tiramisu for an upcoming event. It probably wouldn't fit with a Thanksgiving or Christmas theme, but it would be perfect for the Masquerade Ball. McKay settled into the most comfortable looking chair in the place and gulped down his drink with an expression of rapture. He had finished half before he stopped for a breath and a moony smile. "I haven't had one of these since Sora left." He sighed. John settled back into his own, significantly less comfortable, chair. "Who was she spying for, anyway?" "The Genii Corporation." McKay spat out the words as if they tasted bad. "Not that we could ever prove it. Whatever she was working for, it wasn't money." "That sucks," John said. It was a massive understatement, he knew, but what exactly did one say in a case of corporate espionage? Sorry your confidentiality agreement was violated? Not something Miss Manners ever covered. "How'd you find out?" McKay finished his coffee and looked at his empty cup mournfully before setting it aside with a sigh. "We'd known for a while that we'd had a leak. Genii was consistently beating us to low-level patents and occasionally referencing our classified research, research that they weren't nearly competent enough to have developed independently." While McKay continued to detail their investigation, John found his mind wandering to the name of the rival corporation. Genii. It sounded familiar for some reason, but he couldn't put his finger on why. Something he'd heard recently, something threaded with a faint roil of disquiet deep in his gut. It bothered him that he couldn't remember, especially since it seemed associated with something unpleasant. Finally he interrupted McKay's diatribe on the many errors inherent to Genii's mission of focusing strictly on the applied aspects of research with a question: "Why have I heard the name Genii before?" "Were you even listening to me?" McKay snapped. Before John could answer, the scientist rolled his eyes and continued, "Never mind, obviously you weren't. If you were, you'd probably have heard me mention the name Cowen; you met him at the Charity Ball." "Right, Cowen. The dick with Kinsey." McKay looked pleased with John's characterization. John thought about being embarrassed about his inattention, but decided not to bother. Based on his behavior at the ball, McKay tuned people out all the time. Though he'd never tuned John out, as far as John could tell. So maybe a little embarrassment. "Sorry," he said. "I was listening, but it was bugging me that I couldn't remember where I'd heard the name." "It's okay," McKay said magnanimously. "You can make it up for me by getting me another mochachino." John laughed out loud at that, but climbed to his feet and went to the counter. Five minutes later, he handed McKay a seriously overpriced cup of coffee. "One heart attack in a cup," he offered. McKay took a sip and gave a sigh of sheer bliss. "Perfect." "I never forget a drink," John said honestly. "That's what I love about you," McKay said and took another sip, completely missing John's incredulous look. "Well, that, and your chef's chocolate torte cake. That was an amazing cake." John shook his head ruefully. From anyone else, John would have considered McKay's comment a come-on, but clearly McKay was simply socially clueless. So, rather than offering a flirty reply, John said, "Glad you liked it. If you want, we can serve that for the Thanksgiving dinner." McKay considered before shaking his head sadly. "I think we're going to have to have pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving. But maybe for Christmas..." "We can do that." Deciding that now was as good a time as any to get down to business, John pulled out a small notebook. "So, what else did you have in mind for the Thanksgiving menu?" After half an hour of debate, the menu consisted of: turkey and gravy, sage stuffing, mashed potatoes, candied yams, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce, tossed salad, fruit salad, Jonas's rolls, multi-grain rolls, pumpkin pie, gingerbread cookies, and cherry pie. John stared at the list and tried to picture all of this food on one plate. "That's a lot of food," he commented. "Yes," McKay said happily. "And I think we should add the potato filling. It sounds delicious." "It is delicious," John said. "But you already have stuffing and mashed potatoes on the menu. You don't really need a third starch that's a combination of the two. Not to mention the yams. Actually, I don't know how we're going to get this all on the plate in the first place. We can put the salads and the cranberry sauce on the table, but everything else needs to be dished out in the kitchen and it's just not going to fit." As John frowned at the menu, McKay said, "Why not just put the green beans in a bowl, too? I'm sure everyone would much rather have the potatoes and stuffing." John was sure of no such thing, but the suggestion reminded him of something else he saw in Pennsylvania, something that he would normally never even consider with a large group. However, with only thirty people... "Have you ever heard of family style dining?" McKay displayed a surprising degree of coordination by shaking his head and draining his cup simultaneously. "Please tell me it doesn't involve actual family," he said, putting the cup aside. "Because while my sister and I can sometimes go an entire meal without screaming at each other, my parents wouldn't make it past the appetizers." Jesus. John tried to look sympathetic, rather than pitying. "That sounds awful." McKay shrugged. "If they hadn't been awful, I probably would have spent more time at home and less time developing my genius. When I eventually win the Nobel Prize, I'll be sure to thank my parents for giving me the impetus to explore my full potential." "Wow," John said, impressed. "I don't think I could be that gracious if I were in your shoes." McKay snorted. "I'm not being gracious. With any luck, my speech will give the two of them a stroke." "Oh." John searched for a suitable response and finally gave up. "So, family dining. It's a Pennsylvania Dutch thing, where instead of waiters bringing out prepared plates, they bring out platters of food and everyone at the table serves himself. You know, like at a large family dinner." "Caterers do this?" McKay asked, sounding deeply dubious. John shrugged. "I don't know about caterers, but some restaurants do." He looked at the list of food again. "Really, it's the only option if you want to have all of these side dishes, and I think the Thanksgiving group will be small enough to make it doable. We'll just have to remove any unnecessary plate and seat five or six to a table, instead of eight." "Can I have potato filling?" "You can have potato filling," John confirmed with a smile. McKay looked like he was about to cave, so John gave one more little push. "I know it's different, but you can make it work for you. It's a lot easier to hit someone up for money if they've just asked you to pass the mashed potatoes." McKay laughed. "We don't need money." John stared at him, confused. "Then what were you doing kissing Weir's ass?" "I wasn't kissing Weir's ass," McKay said hotly. John just looked at him. "I wasn't! Radek was kissing Weir's ass." John rolled his eyes. "Okay, so why was Radek kissing Weir's ass?" McKay blew out a sigh. "The government has a project we want. And before you say anything, yes, it does come with money, but that's not why we want the project. The government has access to some seriously fascinating, um, stuff, and only one contractor is going to get access. We want it. And, obviously, so does the Genii Corporation. Kinsey's backing them. Really backing them, in fact, to the point that our legal department is looking into whether they paid him off, though they haven't found anything yet. Senator Hammond is on our side, probably because he thinks Kinsey's an untrustworthy ass. Which he is. Weir's the wildcard. We want her to choose us." John considered bringing the discussion back to Thanksgiving planning, but honestly, McKay's gossip was much more interesting. "What's the research about?" "Deep space telemetry," McKay said, looking away from John and staring at the opposite wall. John raised his eyebrows, but before he could ask about the obvious lie, McKay blatantly changed the subject. "If family dining is a Pennsylvania Dutch custom, how'd you learn about it?" Well, that was interesting. Unfortunately, John didn't know McKay enough to push, at least not yet. Someday, maybe, he could ask McKay again. For now, there was a very awkward question on the table. John took a deep breath and let it out slowly, considering his answer. Finally he told McKay about the road trip he and Alex had taken so many years ago. About the desire to see the country beyond the artificiality of LA. To mock Mt. Rushmore while standing on George Washington's head; to experience Maine lobster while actually in Maine; to taste gumbo in an authentic Cajun restaurant. To explore the USA and come home triumphant and full of stories. Grand ambitions for a twenty-one year old John Sheppard. Then he told McKay about the car breaking down in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, turning their two weeks on the eastern seaboard into two weeks in Amish country. About eating cheap, bland food in a bevy of diners and hiking in Pennsylvania's tiny, heavily forested