This story is the answer to the question, "What would happen if Kaori Yuki's Godchild series was crossed with Stargate Atlantis? What if Cain was in Atlantis?" This will probably be written in vignettes, but it has two parts as of now (so fear not, I will at least get to the second story and you won't be hanging in suspense. It will also be very Cain and John-centric. If you know what I mean. A warning for yaoi contexts.

His Fairy Tale

by Shadou-sama

Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John

Went to bed with his stockings on.

One shoe off, one shoe on,

Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John.

It was interesting, Cain reflected briefly, that he could remember many Mother Goose stories. There had never been anyone to teach them to him. The only time his 'mother' was near him, she ended up hurting him, never reciting such soothing things as rhymes. Although, considering the elite lifestyle of his home world, and especially the aristocrats of London, he never should have expected such loving treatment. That was what milk nurses and school mistresses were for. Of course, he had never had one, any care giver really, that would even look at him for more than a glance as according to his father's, Alexis', decree. The only time he would happen upon such rhymes was much later, when listening to his servants and their children or to the giggling voices of ladies at dinner parties as they indulged in childish behaviours.

Mary Weather had tried to teach him some, but the few that she had tried had chilled the blood in his veins. Mother Goose rhymes were never meant to be so close to his cursed life. The only ones he could ever recall had something to do with death. Solomon Grundy and his bride who had died by his hand. Baa baa black sheep that had ended the life of a French maid. Alice that was ultimately slaughtered by her own White Rabbit father. No, that wasn't a rhyme, that didn't count.

But now, lounging on the slim bed, trapped against the wall by his sleeping body, such trivial things easily came to mind. Especially since he hadn't even bothered to remove his shoes before climbing into bed. Cain couldn't even move enough to do much more than manage to slip his boots over his heel.

But then, John had earned this moment of impropriety. Lieutenant Colonel John, he reminded himself. He certainly hadn't gained anything else by saving Cain. This was his first night since he had been released from the medical ward after getting shot in the stomach for believing that his life was worth less than Cain's.

How deluded he was. How deluded he still was.

He shifted uncomfortably as he remembered that for the first time since his father, Cain wasn't wearing a shirt in the presence of an another.

There really was no reason that John had needed to put himself at such risk. It had all been Cain's fault. Sure, Kolya had originally only been interested in the Colonel after his vie to take over Atlantis during the storm. That was what had pushed that man to capture the ZPM from them when they so desperately needed it to save themselves from the Wraith their very first year in Atlantis. After defeating him, though, the Colonel refused to spill any more more blood, even though he surely knew that Kolya would not relent an inch in his pursuit of the John's – the Colonel's head.

"You should feel lucky that the Major is a gentleman," he had whispered into Kolya's ear as the others were climbing out of the hidden chamber. "He is a real hero. He will even refuse to take your life when you are such a danger to him – to us all. But do not mistake what I am about to do to you. It's not because I'm trying to protect them, or anything chivalrous like that. I'm not a hero. I just want to test out my new poison."

He had pulled a thin vial from his flak vest, swirling the amber liquid in front of Kolya's eyes. "This is a poison that I concocted myself, from a few poisonous plants native to this galaxy. I would explain to you in graphic detail what is about to happen to you, but I really have no idea. But I'm sure when the Genii threaten us again with your corpse on their hands that I will find out."

Because it had been a new creation from barely researched plants, the golden eyed boy had badly miscalculated the correct dosage. The ingredients hadn't been nearly toxic enough. So, after a few weeks of heavy fever and hallucinations, and a year recovering from the ill effects, Kolya was right as rain again.

That was when the Genii man came up with the plan to kidnap Cain to feed to a wraith while his associates watched. He remembered laughing darkly when Kolya revealed his goal. That the Lanteans would have to watch him die, hour by hour, torn between saving him and given in to his demands. How silly of him to believe that they would actually care, beyond the compulsory feelings of horror from one human being to the next.

He was the cursed child. He was the child that had been cursed by God, by his father's sin that resulted in his conception, the one child who could never love or be loved by anyone without their terrible demise.

Who cared if he died? He certainly didn't. He had been running on borrowed time anyway. He should have died at the collapse of the Tower. He should have died by Michaela's little friends' poison. He should have died when attacked by the vampire. He should have died when his father poisoned his tea. He should have died when his mother tried to slaughter him. He should have died all those years ago, before he could have even been born. That would have been the merciful thing.

God put a mark on Cain so that anyone that found him would not kill him.

There would be no respite in mortal death for Cain.

He had even pushed at Kolya, taunting him, remarking how weird it was for a man to get such a hard on from watching another man. His resolve had remained strong, though. He wanted the Lanteans to watch him die. There would be no quick death for him.

So he turned to his mysterious neighbour, who turned out to be the wraith that was feeding on him. The wraith had said such strange things to him – about brotherhood, about teamwork, about companionship.

"Well, I suppose our team would work like this," Cain told him, his head hanging low on his chest and his limbs blissfully weak. "You kill the guards, unlock the shackles around your wrists, and escape through a hidden passageway. There must be a hidden passageway. It would be unfashionable if there weren't any."

"This is human teamwork?" the wraith had scoffed. "Our two people are less alike than I had thought."

"I help by dying for you."

The wraith was silent for a long time. "You would give up your life to help me? An enemy to your kind?"

"Why ever not? If I have to be alone when I die, then I would like to help someone with my death." I would like to die knowing that something good came out of my cursed existence. Or something even more cursed, considering he will probably kill everyone I know now.

"Perhaps – perhaps we do not have to wait that long."

The wraith saved him. He had been willing to give up, to die then and there. A reprieve from his memories. But, he had supposed, if he was going to die, it might be best to die helping another, even a wraith, and it would probably be much more relaxing to die under starlight.

They managed to escape, barely. He had mostly ridden on the hard labour of the wraith. That was how it always was, he supposed. He had been raised to be a nobleman, a man who is dependent on others to survive, no matter how independent he had been – had to be because of his father's mark. Most of what he had contributed to their escape left him looking like a corpse.

Looking up at the sky, as they lay there in the field, dazed, lost and confused, he had felt ready to die. Like the only thing stopping him – the warm cage he lived in called flesh – was now so brittle that he only had to breathe to break free.

But the wraith wouldn't let him.

John appeared, P-90 raised as he staulked towards them, yelling for the alien to get away from the corpse-like body even as he wobbled from exhaustion. The wraith refused, obviously noting the way his weapon dipped as he walked or the increasingly clumsy steps.

"If I didn't know any better," he said, looking from the Colonel down to the boy at his feet. "I would have thought you were a wraith. To give up everything to help another, that is what we live by."

He hadn't even the strength to contest that. The wraith had then showed him that the wraith were not only harbingers of death, but could restore life too. Kind of like Father...

He should have realized it then. The Colonel hadn't even eaten never mind slept since Cain had been taken. The man pressed himself into service whenever anyone – his team, his men, acquaintances, even people he had never met – were taken. "A saving-people complex" Rodney had once termed it, a bit scornfully but also a bit gratefully.

It was especially bad when it was someone he cared about. Three marines had been needed to wrestle the Colonel – then Major – through the Gate for their review on Earth when Ford had run away, doped up on Wraith enzymes. Or when Ronan had been captured to play the Wraith version of paintball, as the Colonel had once put it.

And now, apparently, Cain had been included.

He would never allow himself those kinds of thoughts, though, and pushed them out of his mind. He pushed away any kind of indication before he even realized what they meant. Someone... cared about him. Someone would put his own life at risk to save his own.

But he never realized it before they went up against Kolya for the last time.

Now, John lay sleeping on his side with his shoes and stockings still on, one arm wrapped around him. Cain could only wonder if this gesture was an unconscious action to reassure him that one of his many charges was really safe and sound or if it meant anything more...

No, it couldn't mean anything more.

Then they had been investigating a new wraith-killing hero of a small but picture perfect looking world when they had re-discovered Lucius, who brought Kolya once again to their doorstep. Luckily, the Colonel had predicted Lucius's easily defeated courage and they had eluded capture right off of the bat. However, they had still ended up captured, but at least John had been free. Kolya wasn't interested so much in killing them all as killing Cain in front of them all. He had even commissioned a metal restraint that held his neck, his wrists and his ankles. His hands were held in place near his neck as the bars that ran from his neck to his ankles forced him to stoop, his knees crushing against his chest so that he could barely breathe. He remembered vaguely wheezing out some remark that Kolya was merely confusing his desire for him sexually with violence. The device did leave his arse conveniently accessible.

Ah, now I'm finally going to die.

He wrote the pain in his heart off to the torture device Kolya had locked onto him.

But then John showed up. He could have saved himself, could have freed the others when he had more time to prepare and plan. No, he had shown up to save him. And he didn't know whether he was angry or glad at that. Kolya's men surrounded them, leaving no room to escape.

"How about a wager, Colonel Sheppard," Kolya said. "If you can manage to outdraw me, then you can save this little minx. If not, at least you won't have to watch him die."

Cain had thought that Kolya had forgotten about the sixty men lost at the Colonel's hands. Being out-manoeuvred when the Genii had the upper hand not only once but thrice had left the man's skills questioned by his superiors and inferiors alike, and even to himself. Or, perhaps, Kolya had finally realized that no one cared about Cain enough in that way to be properly horrified by his death, but that John's death while trying to save him and still failing would have so much stronger an impact on the Lanteans. More of the desired impact.

John agreed, even as Dr McKay argued loudly that it was pointless anyway, over Teyla's quiet admonishments, and Ronan's silence of disagreement but understanding. Cain had even cursed at the man, telling him over and over again how stupid such a trade was. Although, Teyla corrected him later, he hadn't been speaking in more than a hoarse whisper by that point.

What none of them knew, except for the Colonel and his unlikely accomplice Lucius, was that the Colonel had a secret up his sleeve. There was no way that Kolya could kill him before he killed Kolya. Not with the emerald glowing ancient device that he had wrestled away from Lucius.

Kolya crumpled to the ground. Cain thought it was a waste that he hadn't been able to test out his family's secret poison on the man. The Genii mercenaries fired at the Colonel to little effect, until that one last shot. The Colonel, with the help of the townspeople, had forced the Genii into a truce when one madman, completely oblivious to the will of his fellows, fired at John. Ronan knocked that mercenary out cold with one fist as the Colonel crumpled to the ground.

Now John was hurt. Well, he was healing. Still, Cain had seen beneath the cheerful white bandages to the gore underneath. He had seen worse; after all he had seen girls beheaded and the crispy corpses of men. But this wound... it would never be all right. Even years later, the Colonel would have an angry red scar in that place.

John was marked too.

To be continued...