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Wolves on Atlantis

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It had been a long day on P1C-343 with a 10K hike and an unexpected zap from an innocent-looking statue. John was glad to be back on Atlantis and finally headed for his bed. Shuffling out of his bathroom - one towel around his waist and another scrubbing his hair - John yawned.

A full-body yawn that felt like it popped every joint in his body, not just his jaws. A few moments later, as he blinked through a film of tears, he realized he'd dropped to the floor and was on his hands and knees.

Wait a minute - paws?

He looked down again.

Yep, definitely paws and covered in dark gray fur, too. He shook his head at the sight, which translated to a full-body shake and the sensation of fur settling against his skin...

Okay...weirdest dream ever.

John waited for the dream to fade into something more interesting like flying naked or maybe watching Rodney bent over repairing something complicated, preferably with both of them naked. When he stayed stuck as a not-naked furry thing, John licked his chops and headed for the door, hoping a change in venue would shift the dream into something less freaky.

As John padded quietly down the hallway, heading toward the jumper bay where hopefully some flying would happen, he approached a glass panel. A reflected image startled him until he realized the dark wolf shape had to be him.


If he had to be even furrier than normal in a dream, being a wolf was a bonus. John wondered what Kate Heightmeyer would have to say about that, but then decided he'd keep it to himself. Maybe he'd pull it out in an emergency situation - like when she pushed him to talk about feelings.

The hallways were empty, as was the jumper bay. John picked his favorite and the hatch lowered as easily as doors had opened. His claws clicked a few times on the grooves of the ramp as he entered, the lights remaining low in the cargo section. They brightened when he approached the pilot's seat, but that was as far as he could go. Despite every effort, his paws were useless on the yoke, the jumper remained grounded. His lip curled back as he growled in frustration. Having enhanced senses and a strong body were useless if he couldn't fly.

Exiting the jumper, John paused at the door and, following an irresistible impulse he lifted his leg and marked it, thinking, 'mine.' With a wolfish huff of laughter, he left the jumper bay and headed for the eastern pier. Flying was out, so he'd settle for running. He headed for the east pier, but a strong scent drew his attention as he trotted past one of the gardens the botanists had set up under a skylight. Approaching one of the freshly tilled sections, John sniffed deeply, the earth rich and ripe in his nose. He scratched in it, dislodging a few plants, which released an irresistible scent. He dug up a few more and then rubbed his nose through the crushed leaves. It wasn't enough, so John rolled in the mess he'd made before jumping back to his feet to shake vigorously, scattering earth and leaves as far as the walkway between the beds. Instinct satisfied, he resumed his search for open air.

The two full moons caught his eye as he trotted outside. Their gleam drew his attention again and again, as he raced around the perimeter testing his dream body. Although he could only sprint at full speed for about thirty seconds, a steady lope ate up the distance with ease. Slowing to a walk, John breathed in the heavy scent of the salt air, not certain what it was comprised of, only that it was complex and layered. At the end of the pier he halted and gazed up at the moons. He licked his lips and wondered, then startled at the sound of a howl. It hadn't been him, although he'd been thinking about it. Giving into another impulse, he lifted his head and called to the heavens with a long mournful howl, the call carrying all his fears and regrets since first stepping onto Atlantis.

That one howl was enough. Suddenly weary, John left the pier at a slow trot, wending his way along empty corridors. As he passed one door, he paused, recognizing the scent of the owner, one he was intimately familiar with. He sniffed around the edges of the door then lifted his leg, anointing one side and thinking once again, 'mine.' With a final sniff, he continued on to his quarters, heading straight for his bed after entering. Pawing the blanket into a rounded nest, he circled twice before flopping down with a heavy sigh and closed his eyes.

Definitely the weirdest dream he'd ever had.