New SGA Fic: Levels of Expectation 2/2
Title: Levels of Expectation 2/2
Author: katstale
Rating: PG-13
Category: Gen
Word Count: 15,302
Characters: John & Dave Sheppard
Pairings: none
Spoilers/Warnings: Wee bit of mild language, but that's about it
Summary: Tag for Outcast (Season 4). The Sheppard boys finally have that talk after their father's wake.
Notes: When I wrote Good Night, Mr. Sheppard, Wherever You Are, it didn't turn out quite as I'd envisioned and I'd always intended to write another, one without Ghost-Patrick stealing the story. It has taken 5 years, but the boys finally decided to give in and spill their guts. Sort of. And boy, did they ever TALK!
Also, this tag has been edited but not beta'ed. Mostly because I have no clue where to even find a beta for SGA anymore, lol.
Part Two
The brothers stood quietly watching the horses prance around the pen, neither one seeming to know what to say next. It was John who finally broke the silence. "I guess it's later now."
Dave looked at him, head cocked to the side. "Later?"
"Yeah, later."
"Later than?"
"Later than in the middle of Dad's wake." John closed one eye, grimacing as he waited for his brother's reaction.
Dave's eyes went wide for a moment and he ducked his head. "Oh. That later. You're right, I suppose it is time we have that talk." He toed the ground while John waited for him to make a move. At last, Dave turned to face him. "Let's go back inside. We can share a drink and...talk."
John nodded, taking one last longing look at the horses before turning away to follow his brother. A comfortable silence settled over them as they walked, which John used to try to bring some order to his chaotic thoughts. He'd spent years thinking and feeling that he'd been disowned, persona non grata in Patrick Sheppard's eyes. A failure who never would or could live up to expectations. He'd long ago made peace with it, forging his own path and putting his own stamp on the Sheppard name. He had finally found a place where he was free to be himself, doing what he loved and being damned good at it to boot. Well, aside from a few monumental mistakes along the way, of course. He was surrounded by good people, the best of the best and brightest. Over time, some of those people had become like family to him. Now, in the space of just a few short days, his world had been turned on its ear. His father hadn't disowned him after all and had even made him a multi-millionaire. Though the more he thought about it, he came to realize the old man's change of heart was recent--very recent. And it really didn't change anything. While he was happy his father had managed to come to terms with their situation before he died, the man certainly hadn't seemed very much at peace in the video. And even though John had come to terms with his past long ago, Patrick Sheppard's change of heart did put things in a new light. At least John thought it did. What it didn't do, however, was to negate all the years of estrangement. All of the years of making John feel like he was a failure, of letting him know every chance he got that John didn't measure up to expectations. Nope, expensive vacation properties and millions of dollars did nothing to negate all those years of pain and anguish. So what did it change, knowing that his father had accepted him, was even proud of him at the end? The truth of the matter was that he had no idea. It was time to admit that he'd yet to come to terms with his feelings regarding the near-deathbed confession--and he really wasn't sure if he ever would.
In no time at all they were back in the house, settling into a pair of plush leather chairs in the family room with a cold beer in hand. The silence grew awkward, until finally Dave spoke up. "Okay, so where do we begin?"
John shrugged, at a loss himself. "At the beginning?"
"Sounds like a good place." Dave hesitated. "The problem is, I'm not entirely sure where that would be."
After a moment to consider, John pulled a hard plastic case from his pocket and very deliberately placed it on the table before them. "Maybe we should start there," he suggested, tapping the disk containing his copy of Patrick's video.
Dave inhaled sharply. John waited for him to speak, but his brother simply stared at the disk. John took a long pull from his beer and sat back in the chair, allowing Dave as much time as he needed to consider it. As John was about to rescind the suggestion, Dave looked up, a guarded expression on his face. "I agree. But I've changed my mind about starting at the beginning. I want to start at the end." He paused for a deep breath. "Dad asked us to get to know one another as adults. And I'm finding the idea of getting to know my brother again extremely appealing."
John was stunned. When he'd proposed discussing the recording, he'd expected them to talk about their father and his revelations. Or even the will again--heaven knew Dave sure seemed to like talking about that particular point. The last thing he'd expected was his brother to propose granting their father's final request. Dave Sheppard had made his opinions regarding his brother's job situation very well known in the past--and none of them were favorable. And given that, John couldn't see how this would possibly work. "Dave..."
His brother held up a hand, halting John's response. "Before you say anything, let me make it clear that I'm not asking you to divulge any classified information. I will admit that I do have a hard time with all the top-secret...secrets, but I want to try to get past that. So please, tell me about my brother."
John blew out a breath. "There's not much to tell. Not much I'm allowed to tell," he amended. "I can't talk about any of the places I've gone or any of the things I've done. I can't tell you why it's sometimes impossible to get messages to me or anything at all about what I'm doing now."
"I realize that. And like I said, I'm not asking for classified information. But there are some things you can tell me. For instance, do you like where you are and what you're doing? Is there anyone special in your life right now? What do you enjoy doing in your spare time these days? Are you happy?" Dave's expression was sincere, almost pleading.
John slowly rose from the chair and walked over to the large bay window across from his brother, beer in hand. He stood for a moment watching the horses outside before lowering himself into the window seat. Turning sideways, he pulled his knees almost to his chest, crossing his arms over them as he took another drink. Dave waited patiently, giving him the time he needed to sort out his answers. John continued looking out the window and began to speak. "It's been a long time since I've liked a place as much as my current station. And I love my job, which I'm damned good at, by the way. I don't have much spare time, so no, not much of a social life. Among other things, I still enjoy video games and surfing in my limited spare time--not much time to enjoy the latter though. But yeah, I guess I am pretty happy. I'm in a good place right now, with a lot of good people around me. I have people there I care about, people who believe in me. I mean really believe in me."
He was startled to look up and find Dave settling into the seat opposite from him, mirroring his position. "I guess it's been awhile since you've had that last bit," Dave said somberly, also looking out the window.
John shrugged, not sure how else to respond. He wondered where Dave would go next. He definitely was not comfortable with the direction they seemed to be headed and decided it was time to turn the tables. And he really didn't want to talk anymore about his own feelings, so that left him one course of action. "Okay, your turn," he challenged. "What's the low-down on Dave Sheppard?"
Dave laughed. "Sorry to disappoint, but there's not much to tell on my end either. Between Sheppard Industries and taking care of Dad, I haven't had much time for a social life these past few months either." John was relieved to find that this time there was no trace of accusation or resentment in his brother's tone. "Before that I came close a few times, but never quite made it to the altar. If I'm honest, I have to admit that no one has yet been able to top Sheppard Industries on my priority list and I haven't found anyone who has been willing to live with that for the long-term. I love running the business and I'm looking forward to the challenges ahead there. My golf game has gotten a little rusty, but I expect that I'll be spending more time on the links again very soon. And I'm thinking about a ski trip over the holidays. Maybe if you could get leave?"
Again, he was stunned by his brother's words. "I, um, can't make any promises, but...yeah, I'll see what I can do." John was surprised at how much the idea appealed to him.
A comfortable silence fell between them. John polished off the rest of his beer and Dave, ever the good host, promptly brought them each a fresh one. Settling back into the window seat, Dave again turned serious. "Can I ask you something?"
John's caution meter ramped up a notch and he carefully chose his words. "As long it's not classified, then...maybe?"
Dave took his time before he speaking. "At the wake, when you said you stayed away because it's what you assumed Dad wanted...I didn't sense any anger there. Well, not towards Dad anyway" he amended, flashing a wry smile. "I'm wondering...after what he said in the video...do you regret not seeing him before he passed?"
John took a deep breath, slowly blowing it out. His fight or flight instinct was screaming at him to run, but he forced himself to remain seated and sip his beer while he watched the horses outside. "No. It...wouldn't have gone well."
"So...you are still angry with him," persisted Dave.
John shook his head, but didn't immediately answer. He picked at the label on his beer bottle, taking his time in sorting through his feelings. When he finally spoke, he found himself unable to look his brother in the eye, watching the horses outside instead. "By the time I hit my teens, I knew I could never be the son he wanted me to be. I was angry with him a lot back then. But I held onto the hope that once I finished school and was established in my career, he'd come around. He'd see that I was happy and doing well and accept that I was never coming onboard at SI. Well, eventually he would." He paused, steeling himself against the unpleasant memories. "Then came the day I told him about my divorce. I don't remember ever being that angry before. With anyone. And when I left, he seemed pretty clear about the fact that he wouldn't exactly welcome me back."
"You had to know he wasn't really serious," interrupted Dave.
"Once I cooled down, I realized that I had two choices," continued John. "I could keep coming back, knowing nothing would ever change between us, or I could do as he seemed to want and stay away, start fresh without him in my life. It was then I realized that, just like I'd never be the son he wanted me to be, he could never be the father I needed him to be. So I made peace with it. I let it go and moved on."
"So even after what he said on the tape..."
"Nothing good would have come out of it," insisted John. "Look, I don't doubt his sincerity. I believe he really did regret how things went down between us. But even so, I heard enough of the same old, same old in that recording to know it wouldn't have gone well--in spite of his good intentions. Old habits and all, you know?" He cocked his head to one side, a quizzical expression settling over his features. "Hey, what was that bit about the President advising him to give up on me joining the company?"
"Oh, that," said Dave, sighing deeply. "A few months back, before things really started going downhill with Dad's health, he was at a symposium in D.C. to give a speech. Right after he finished, he was met by a pair of Secret Service men and invited to the White House. He was excited, said he felt like he'd finally gotten the recognition he'd been working for all his life." He paused, as if trying to find with words to go on. "It, um, didn't quite go as he expected."
John, pausing in the middle of a swig of beer, raised his eyebrows.
"The President told him that he'd heard Dad was in town and he just couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet John Sheppard's father."
Beer sprayed everywhere as John choked on his drink. "What?" he rasped, still coughing.
"I should probably apologize, but..."
"What did they tell him?" demanded John, still hoarse and coughing. Every muscle in his body tensed as he waited for the explanation.
"Relax," scolded Dave. "They didn't tell him anything, really. Gave him the whole thanks-of-a-grateful-nation speech." He sighed. "And of course Dad being Dad, he had to mention how pleased he'd be when you retired and joined the company. That's when the President told him that it would be best for everyone if he'd let go of that idea, because they weren't going to allow you to retire any time soon, if ever--no matter what your desires in that regard might be."
John winced, his coughing mostly under control now, and began to relax. "I'm guessing that didn't go over very well."
"I think you might be surprised. If you're thinking it set Dad off, President or no President--I know that was my first thought--you'd be wrong. It didn't. It certainly shocked him, no question about that, but it also affected him very deeply. In fact, it was shortly after that when his health took a turn for the worse. That's when he finally began to look beyond what little we'd been told about you over the years and admitted--to himself, at least--that you weren't just another chopper pilot."
Anger quickly roared to life at the insinuation. "Oh, no, I am not going to be held responsible for Dad dying. Don't even go there."
Dave shook his head. "Absolutely not. I'm not accusing you of causing any of Dad's health problems, far from it. I was simply stating a fact regarding the timing, nothing more. I think if you really had to place blame, it would be with Dad himself. That was when he finally started taking a good, hard look at his relationship with you and eventually at the rest of his life, too. As he said in the video, he didn't like what he saw and it took a toll on him. I think the hardest thing of all for him to process was that you'd managed to achieve so much on your own, without his help and by going against his wishes."
John didn't like where this was going at all and it was all he could do to make himself stay seated instead of bolting for the front door. "Look, I don't know how or why you suddenly seem to think I'm some big important...deal, but I can assure you, I'm really not."
Dave held up his hand, stopping John mid-sentence. "I said I wasn't going to ask you to reveal classified information and I'm trying to accept that you can't talk about what you do. But give me a little credit. As Dad so kindly pointed out, there are hundreds of Lieutenant Colonels in the Air Force. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that it's not likely the President would be familiar with very many of them. But he knew you--and pretty well, from what Dad said."
"It's not what you think," insisted John. "He reads my reports. That's all. End of story."
Dave looked skeptical. "Right. He reads your reports. So you're telling me that he reads reports from every Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force? Somehow, I doubt that."
"Well, no, of course not. He reads my reports solely due to the classified nature of my work. You're making it sound like we're best buds or something and that couldn't be further from the truth."
"Are you saying that you've never actually met him? Because Dad sure seemed to think he knew a lot more about you than someone who simply submitted reports for him to read."
John sighed. "Well, no. There was one time. Sort of."
Dave's eyebrows rose. "Okay, I'll bite. How does one "sort of" meet the President?"
"All right, yes, I did actually meet him once. Or so I'm told."
"You don't remember meeting the President? How does one NOT remember meeting the President of the United States?"
"You're not going to let this go, are you?" said John, resigning himself to telling what he could of the tale.
"Not on your life, brother dear." Dave laughed, obviously enjoying John's discomfort.
"Fine. I was invited to a reception at the White House--with the President--but ended up having fairly major surgery a few days before. It was too late to reschedule and the brass decided that I really needed to be there. So they convinced the docs to shoot me up with something to get me through it and drop me off at the party."
Dave's jaw fell open. "You went to meet the President when you were..."
"Higher than a kite," confirmed John. "Stoned out of my mind. Don't remember a thing. Well, hardly anything. At least I didn't screw up or make a total fool of myself."
Dave grinned, his eyes twinkling. John remembered the expression well and knew it did not bode well for him. "So...if you hardly remember anything, how can you be so sure you didn't?"
"Because trust me, I would have heard about it. Loud and long. So since my superiors didn't ream me a new one..." he answered, taking another pull from his beer.
"Not that you remember anyway," added Dave, his eyes still twinkling.
John stared at him for a moment, his mouth still full. A sudden overwhelming urge to laugh prevented him swallowing and he couldn't help but spit beer everywhere--again--as the fit took hold. Once he finally got himself under control, he conceded. "Point taken. I should probably have...someone...check my jacket."
"I think I'd like to have been a fly on the wall for that reception," said Dave, still chuckling as he stood up. "And speaking of jackets, the one you're wearing seems to need some attention. There's a clean towel by the sink in the kitchen; I'll be right back."
After a quick clean up of both the jacket and area around the window seat, John reluctantly turned to his brother. "I should be going soon."
Dave looked disappointed, but nodded. "Understood. I could drive you," he offered.
"I, um, already have a cab arranged. But thanks." John found himself almost wishing he hadn't made prior arrangements for the cabbie to return. "I still have a little time though and we haven't finished our talk."
"True," agreed Dave. "Although we could save it for next time, if you'd like?"
John sighed. Part of him wanted to jump at the suggestion and leave on the pleasant terms they'd managed to establish. But one thing life in the Pegasus Galaxy had taught him was that there was no way to predict when you'd be the one to run out of tomorrows. "Tempting, but I think sooner would be better than later."
Dave settled back into his spot on the window seat, gesturing for John to do the same. "Okay. So given the limited time available, where do we go with this next?"
Having settled back into his previous spot across from his brother, John again watched the horses outside the window. Despite his impending departure, he took the time to choose his words carefully. Turning his attention fully to his brother, he continued. "We hit a few rough patches today, though I think we ultimately found ourselves on common ground. But what about next time? Or the time after that?"
"I'm not sure what you're asking." Dave hesitated. "What is it that you want from me?"
"That is the burning question, isn't it?" John pulled his knees in closer, hugging them more tightly to his chest. "I told you that I've known for a very long time that I'd never be the son Dad wanted and he'd never be the father I needed." He paused for a deep breath as Dave nodded. "So I guess that leaves the question of you and me. I want this to work. But I have to ask myself, can I be the brother you want me to be? Because if I'm honest, I have to admit I'm not sure I'm capable of that. Then there's the other side of the coin. Can you be the brother I need you to be? And I don't know the answer to that one either. Or maybe I do, but I just don't want to admit it."
Dave's eyes widened and he looked like he'd been sucker punched. John felt badly about it, but there was no sense in continuing this if either one of them had unrealistic expectations regarding the other. That was another thing life in Pegasus had taught him--life was just too damn short.
To his credit, Dave did not immediately snap back at him and instead took time to consider his own words. "I have to admit that's not what I was expecting you to say. And I also have to admit my first impulse was to contradict you and insist that absolutely, we can make it work." He brushed a hand through his hair, looking suddenly weary and vulnerable. "But things are rarely that simple, are they?"
"No," agreed John. "They're not. So I guess it's time for each of us to figure out our levels of expectation."
"Before we go any further with this, there's something I need to say." Curious, John nodded and Dave took a deep breath. "You asked me earlier if I even knew why I was angry and resentful. If I'd answered you then, I would have only been able to give you part of the reason." Dave broke eye contact, looking out the window at the horses.
John waited, but his brother made no move to continue. "And now?"
"Up to this point, I thought I was angry with you for not being here for Dad during his last days or to help with the final arrangements. It's only now that I understand there was more to it. A lot more. It's been building ever since you joined the Air Force and I never even realized it." His face took on a far away expression as he stared out the window. "From the time we were able to speak, it was drilled into us. Sheppard Industries, family loyalty, family duty. Over and over. Every. Single. Day." John nodded his agreement as Dave looked him directly in the eyes. "When you took your oath to the Air Force, you put them ahead of all things Sheppard. Ahead of us. Your duty and loyalty belonged to total strangers, not to your family. Not to Dad and not to me. You left us behind without a second thought."
The words stung a lot more than he'd expected, but John accepted the blame. "Yes. Yes, I did. And I'm sorry if that hurt you--or Dad. I never intended to betray anyone, least of all you. Look, in the beginning all I wanted was to fly, to find a way to be up in sky as much as humanly possible and going as fast as humanly possible. Joining the Air Force was the best way I could find to make that happen; pissing off the old man in the process was just a bonus. But once I was in, I discovered it was about more than flying. A lot more. It was about making a difference. It was about helping people, about saving lives. You and Dad didn't need me then and you don't need me now, not really. Those strangers? They needed me. They still need me. There are people out there who are alive today solely because I joined the Air Force and do what I do. I'm proud of that. And it's why I can't--and won't--apologize for putting my duty to the Air Force before my duty to the Sheppard family."
Dave didn't respond immediately. "Wow," he said at last. "I can't say that I ever thought about it in those terms before. I always pictured you as a glorified flying chauffeur slash delivery boy. I never considered how you might impact anyone or anything on the ground below." He sighed, wincing as he again spoke. "And I think this is as good a time as any for a confession. After my behavior today, I owe you that much. I need to admit to you that prior to today...it's been a long time since I've looked at you without the filter of Dad's feelings and opinions. A very long time. In my head I knew how much time had passed, but somehow I've never been able to see you as anything other than the immature selfish boy who left home for college all those years ago. Not until today."
John stood abruptly. With one hand in the pocket of his jeans and the other on the back of his neck, he began a slow circuit of the room. His first instinct was to throw in the towel and storm out, to tell his brother to go straight to hell and close the book on their relationship once and for all. Though the confession had stung, he'd known for years that Dave shared their father's view of his choices and maturity level so the confession wasn't really a surprise to him. No, what had shocked him and cut him to the quick in the process was the glorified flying chauffeur remark. He had certainly made his fair share of mistakes, but he'd meant what he'd said when he told Dave that he was proud of what he did. He was out there, day after day, putting his life on the line and the only thing his so-called family saw was a glorified chauffeur and delivery boy. If Dave only knew even a fraction of what he did, he'd be singing a far different tune. And if he knew the real truth about John's job...and therein lie the rub. Dave didn't know, didn't have the slightest clue as to what John really did every day. And he never would because even if he'd wanted to, John couldn't tell him.
He found himself back in front of the window seat, facing a worried looking Dave. "Okay, that hurt," he said candidly. "I mean your confession wasn't exactly a surprise, but that glorified chauffeur thing? That really hurt. I guess I can't really blame you though. You don't know anything about what I do and I can't tell you, so..."
"I am sorry," Dave assured him. "I know I haven't been very fair to you, let alone understanding. I guess it was always just...easier...to think of you doing something mundane. Something safe. If I'm honest with myself, I have to admit that it was mostly wishful thinking on my part. I'm quite certain there is one thing about you that hasn't changed and probably never will--you're far too much of an adrenaline junkie to ever be satisfied with anything so mundane. Maybe I'm finally acknowledging it because the evidence is staring me right in the face," he said, gesturing to the bruised areas on John's neck. "But whatever the reason, for the first time I'm seeing the reality of your profession. Because as much as I'd love to convince myself that those marks are from something far less hazardous and far more scandalous, I have a rather strong feeling that they're work-related. Your job is dangerous. Much more so than I want to think about, let alone admit."
John was regretting his insistence that they continue this conversation and again considered heading for the door. Grimacing, he shrugged. "Look, I won't deny that there is a certain amount of risk in what we do, but I meant what I said before. I am very good at my job. As are all of my people. We aren't careless. But if we can save even one life, then whatever hazards we might have to overcome, whatever sacrifices might be required, it's all worth it."
Dave stared at him for a long moment, seeming to search for something John couldn't begin to guess at. "You're doing it again," said Dave at last.
John raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
Continuing to stare at his brother, Dave nodded. "You can't give me any details and I accept that, but I'm beginning to connect the dots here. You're in a command position. Pretty high up the chain, from what I'm seeing."
John felt like his stomach suddenly did a barrel roll. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Dave laughed. "You don't even realize it, do you? It's become such a part of you that you aren't even aware of it. Earlier, when you were discussing your plans for your share of the estate, you kept referring to 'your guys.' And just now, it was 'your people.' You switch from 'I' to 'we' without even thinking. Dad may not have spoken to you in years, but I have a feeling that he was right on the money about you."
"There you go with the money again," said John, hoping to divert the conversation away from further discussion of him and his current employment position.
"Okay, I get the hint. I'll let it go," said Dave, grinning. "But I'm not going to change my mind about you."
John turned to him, dead serious. "But can you accept me? Can you really do a one-eighty and suddenly accept that I can't tell you about where I am or what I'm doing? Can you accept that there are going to be times when I will be out of touch and that some of those times will be for prolonged periods?"
Dave's light-hearted expression faded. "I want to promise that it will all be smooth sailing from here on out. But I don't think either one of us can make that pledge in good conscience. What I can promise is that I will do my best to accept your job with all the limitations it entails. I'm probably going to get impatient and even irritated from time to time when you can't tell me something I want to know. What will be different from now on is that I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to rein in my temper and exercise a very generous amount of patience in regard to the limitations that come with your career. That's all I can promise." He took a deep breath. "So what about you? Are you willing to do your part and make a sincere effort to stay in contact?"
John didn't answer right away, taking his time to sort through his thoughts. "This isn't going to be easy for either of us. There are going to be periods of time when I won't be able to make contact, no matter how badly I want to. And there won't be any way to let you know that the silence is not intentional. That's just the nature of my job. And to be honest, I'm not sure what I would say. We live in completely different worlds now, there's not much we have in common. But in spite of all the issues, yeah, I'd like to really give this thing a try."
"Okay, so we both know and admit there are going to be bumps in the road now and then," said Dave, looking relieved. "All either one of us can promise is to do our best to meet the other's level of expectation. So the question is, will that be enough?"
As much as John wanted a definitive answer before he left, the reality was that their situation was far too complicated for that. Only time would tell if each of them could or would live up to their word. Or not. That left only one answer for him to give. "It's enough for me."
Dave's smile returned. "Me, too."
As if on cue, a horn sounded in the driveway. "Sounds like your ride is here."
"Yeah," agreed John. "So, I guess this is goodbye."
Dave stepped forward and gave him an affectionate clap on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself. Let me know if you can make the ski trip. I'd really love to be able to spend the holidays together. It's...been too long."
"Yeah, it has," agreed John. "I will do my best, but..."
"I know, no guarantees." Dave smiled ruefully. "But I want you to know it does mean a lot that you're willing to try."
The horn sounded again and the pair made their way to the front door. John turned the handle and opened the door, pausing to turn back to his brother. "I'm glad we finally got to have that talk."
"Me, too. And I look forward to doing it again--hopefully soon."
John nodded and with a slight wave of his hand, stepped outside. He was stopped in his tracks almost instantly as his brother called out to him. "Wait. Don't leave yet, you forgot something."
John waited as his brother disappeared inside, only to return a few moments later. Curious, he watched as Dave approached, holding out the plastic CD case John had left on the table at the beginning of their talk. There was an addition though--Dave had inserted a small white paper. "My current contact info, including email address," he explained, handing it to John. "I'm not going to make it easy for you to lose touch again. So I'll look forward to hearing how you're doing now and then."
Taking a deep breath, he nodded. "I'll try, but..."
"No guarantees," they said in unison. Dave laughed and John quickly joined in.
"I will write when I can, I promise."
"That's all I'm asking," agreed Dave.
"Don't expect much in the way of details," warned John.
"I'll be more than happy with an occasional "I'm still alive." Or "I'm still happy." Or better yet, "I've finally made time for a social life and found the woman of my dreams."" Dave winked, his eyes full of mischief.
"Don't hold your breath waiting on that last one." John laughed, enjoying the lighter moment.
The two shared a long overdue brotherly hug, slapping one another on the back twice. John got into the cab and rolled the window down. "I'll check into that holiday leave," he called. "I'll let you know as soon as I hear something definite."
Dave nodded, smiling as he waved. "Looking forward to it."
The cab pulled away and John waved back, watching as his brother's form grew gradually smaller, eventually disappearing from sight.
~A~
The plane hit a deep pocket of turbulence, bouncing John's head hard on the seat back. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the headache he'd been ignoring for the better part of the day refused to be denied any longer. As he watched the clouds rolling by, his thoughts turned to his meeting with Wendell Jameson. The attorney had listened to his tentative plans and was able to answer a number of questions for him. While John was normally a fairly quick study, he'd found himself distracted and struggling to absorb the intricacies of the ins and outs of charity foundations. Wendell quickly suggested that he put together a detailed report that would include all of the pros and cons of setting up such a foundation and send it to John. John immediately agreed, feeling somewhat guilty about the sense of relief that came with putting off making a decision right away. So until he received the report and reviewed the data, there was nothing more to do but wait. It would take some time for the estate to clear probate anyway, but even so he found himself looking forward to the time when his guys would be able to reap the benefits.
John leaned back and closed his eyes, but there was no chance of him dozing off. Between the storm of his emotions and chaos in his thoughts, he had no doubt that it would be a long time before sleep would be claiming him. All he wanted right now was to get back to Atlantis, put the events of the past few days behind him and lose himself in the insanity that came with life in the Pegasus Galaxy. Ronon would be back in the city by now and if McKay had returned from Planet Kid World, he would no doubt be pestering the big guy unmercifully for any and all details about what had transpired at the wake, not to mention about John's family and background. At least he didn't have to worry about anyone finding out about his inheritance. Ronon didn't know anything about it and John certainly wasn't going to tell anyone.
The flight attendant interrupted his thoughts, announcing their imminent arrival in Colorado Springs as well as asking all passengers to return to their seats and fasten their seatbelts. John made a mental checklist of stops to make before heading to the mountain. Number one would be a first-class liquor store to purchase a bottle of Glennfiddich--not for Carson this time, but for himself, to consume as he attempted to sort through his feelings about Patrick Sheppard and the revelations made in his recording. Then again, given the complexity, maybe he should just spring for a whole case of the stuff. Heaven knew he could certainly afford it now. And when he got back to Atlantis, all he'd need was a late night on a deserted pier, just himself and the Glennfiddich. A lot of the Glennfiddich. And quite probably more than just one late night. It was a start though. There, one issue settled, two to go.
Next, Dave. While not as complicated as his relationship with the old man, another late night on another deserted pier to sort through the events of the past few days was certainly in order. This time with a six-pack or two of his favorite beer instead of the Glennfiddich. Things between him and Dave were about as settled as they could be, at least for now. He would keep his word and look into getting leave for the holidays, but only time would tell how that would play out. Assuming he were able to obtain said leave, John had no way to know if he'd find Jeckyll-Dave or Hyde-Dave waiting for him when the time came. Still, they'd both laid a whole lot of long-held cards on the table today. It hadn't been easy and at times it had been downright painful, but they'd managed to part on good terms. With luck--and a lot of effort on both of their parts--perhaps the bumps in the road ahead would be minimal. Only time would tell. Better order an extra case or two of his favorite brew for good measure. It's not like it would go to waste or anything.
So that left the matter of the inheritance and what to do about that particular headache. It was hard to admit, even to himself, that he was going to accept his share of the estate. One way or another, foundation or no, his guys were going to have that safe haven in which to recover and spend time with family. There wasn't any point in avoiding it now. Though it went against every instinct he had, it was time to acknowledge that he was now John Sheppard, multi-millionaire. God, how he hated the sound of that. He couldn't think of one single person he knew who would be capable of ever understanding his feelings about the money. And that was exactly why he had no intention of ever telling anyone on Atlantis about it. But since he did have the money, or at least would have it eventually, that meant he could do a little shopping for his closest friends before he returned--and maybe even splurge a little. Especially for his team, who meant every bit as much to him as any blood relation ever could. Maybe a cool new knife for Ronon. Yeah, that'd work. And a toy or something for Teyla's future kid, with maybe some girly-type bath stuff for her. She'd be good with that. And for Rodney, maybe some new electronic Earth gadget. Or maybe a case or two of that snobby, high end coffee he was always raving about. Or both, both would be doable. And pizza. For the whole expedition, since last time he'd attempted that they'd been way-laid by a long-lost Ancient warship full of long-lost Ancients. But for the record, if they ended up getting kicked out of the city by more long-lost Ancients this time, he was never going to spring for pizzas again. Ever. For anyone. Hey, maybe this time he could bring beer to go with the pizzas. Carter would be okay with that. Maybe. Or maybe she wouldn't need to know about that one minor, little detail...
The End
Author: katstale
Rating: PG-13
Category: Gen
Word Count: 15,302
Characters: John & Dave Sheppard
Pairings: none
Spoilers/Warnings: Wee bit of mild language, but that's about it
Summary: Tag for Outcast (Season 4). The Sheppard boys finally have that talk after their father's wake.
Notes: When I wrote Good Night, Mr. Sheppard, Wherever You Are, it didn't turn out quite as I'd envisioned and I'd always intended to write another, one without Ghost-Patrick stealing the story. It has taken 5 years, but the boys finally decided to give in and spill their guts. Sort of. And boy, did they ever TALK!
Also, this tag has been edited but not beta'ed. Mostly because I have no clue where to even find a beta for SGA anymore, lol.
Part Two
The brothers stood quietly watching the horses prance around the pen, neither one seeming to know what to say next. It was John who finally broke the silence. "I guess it's later now."
Dave looked at him, head cocked to the side. "Later?"
"Yeah, later."
"Later than?"
"Later than in the middle of Dad's wake." John closed one eye, grimacing as he waited for his brother's reaction.
Dave's eyes went wide for a moment and he ducked his head. "Oh. That later. You're right, I suppose it is time we have that talk." He toed the ground while John waited for him to make a move. At last, Dave turned to face him. "Let's go back inside. We can share a drink and...talk."
John nodded, taking one last longing look at the horses before turning away to follow his brother. A comfortable silence settled over them as they walked, which John used to try to bring some order to his chaotic thoughts. He'd spent years thinking and feeling that he'd been disowned, persona non grata in Patrick Sheppard's eyes. A failure who never would or could live up to expectations. He'd long ago made peace with it, forging his own path and putting his own stamp on the Sheppard name. He had finally found a place where he was free to be himself, doing what he loved and being damned good at it to boot. Well, aside from a few monumental mistakes along the way, of course. He was surrounded by good people, the best of the best and brightest. Over time, some of those people had become like family to him. Now, in the space of just a few short days, his world had been turned on its ear. His father hadn't disowned him after all and had even made him a multi-millionaire. Though the more he thought about it, he came to realize the old man's change of heart was recent--very recent. And it really didn't change anything. While he was happy his father had managed to come to terms with their situation before he died, the man certainly hadn't seemed very much at peace in the video. And even though John had come to terms with his past long ago, Patrick Sheppard's change of heart did put things in a new light. At least John thought it did. What it didn't do, however, was to negate all the years of estrangement. All of the years of making John feel like he was a failure, of letting him know every chance he got that John didn't measure up to expectations. Nope, expensive vacation properties and millions of dollars did nothing to negate all those years of pain and anguish. So what did it change, knowing that his father had accepted him, was even proud of him at the end? The truth of the matter was that he had no idea. It was time to admit that he'd yet to come to terms with his feelings regarding the near-deathbed confession--and he really wasn't sure if he ever would.
In no time at all they were back in the house, settling into a pair of plush leather chairs in the family room with a cold beer in hand. The silence grew awkward, until finally Dave spoke up. "Okay, so where do we begin?"
John shrugged, at a loss himself. "At the beginning?"
"Sounds like a good place." Dave hesitated. "The problem is, I'm not entirely sure where that would be."
After a moment to consider, John pulled a hard plastic case from his pocket and very deliberately placed it on the table before them. "Maybe we should start there," he suggested, tapping the disk containing his copy of Patrick's video.
Dave inhaled sharply. John waited for him to speak, but his brother simply stared at the disk. John took a long pull from his beer and sat back in the chair, allowing Dave as much time as he needed to consider it. As John was about to rescind the suggestion, Dave looked up, a guarded expression on his face. "I agree. But I've changed my mind about starting at the beginning. I want to start at the end." He paused for a deep breath. "Dad asked us to get to know one another as adults. And I'm finding the idea of getting to know my brother again extremely appealing."
John was stunned. When he'd proposed discussing the recording, he'd expected them to talk about their father and his revelations. Or even the will again--heaven knew Dave sure seemed to like talking about that particular point. The last thing he'd expected was his brother to propose granting their father's final request. Dave Sheppard had made his opinions regarding his brother's job situation very well known in the past--and none of them were favorable. And given that, John couldn't see how this would possibly work. "Dave..."
His brother held up a hand, halting John's response. "Before you say anything, let me make it clear that I'm not asking you to divulge any classified information. I will admit that I do have a hard time with all the top-secret...secrets, but I want to try to get past that. So please, tell me about my brother."
John blew out a breath. "There's not much to tell. Not much I'm allowed to tell," he amended. "I can't talk about any of the places I've gone or any of the things I've done. I can't tell you why it's sometimes impossible to get messages to me or anything at all about what I'm doing now."
"I realize that. And like I said, I'm not asking for classified information. But there are some things you can tell me. For instance, do you like where you are and what you're doing? Is there anyone special in your life right now? What do you enjoy doing in your spare time these days? Are you happy?" Dave's expression was sincere, almost pleading.
John slowly rose from the chair and walked over to the large bay window across from his brother, beer in hand. He stood for a moment watching the horses outside before lowering himself into the window seat. Turning sideways, he pulled his knees almost to his chest, crossing his arms over them as he took another drink. Dave waited patiently, giving him the time he needed to sort out his answers. John continued looking out the window and began to speak. "It's been a long time since I've liked a place as much as my current station. And I love my job, which I'm damned good at, by the way. I don't have much spare time, so no, not much of a social life. Among other things, I still enjoy video games and surfing in my limited spare time--not much time to enjoy the latter though. But yeah, I guess I am pretty happy. I'm in a good place right now, with a lot of good people around me. I have people there I care about, people who believe in me. I mean really believe in me."
He was startled to look up and find Dave settling into the seat opposite from him, mirroring his position. "I guess it's been awhile since you've had that last bit," Dave said somberly, also looking out the window.
John shrugged, not sure how else to respond. He wondered where Dave would go next. He definitely was not comfortable with the direction they seemed to be headed and decided it was time to turn the tables. And he really didn't want to talk anymore about his own feelings, so that left him one course of action. "Okay, your turn," he challenged. "What's the low-down on Dave Sheppard?"
Dave laughed. "Sorry to disappoint, but there's not much to tell on my end either. Between Sheppard Industries and taking care of Dad, I haven't had much time for a social life these past few months either." John was relieved to find that this time there was no trace of accusation or resentment in his brother's tone. "Before that I came close a few times, but never quite made it to the altar. If I'm honest, I have to admit that no one has yet been able to top Sheppard Industries on my priority list and I haven't found anyone who has been willing to live with that for the long-term. I love running the business and I'm looking forward to the challenges ahead there. My golf game has gotten a little rusty, but I expect that I'll be spending more time on the links again very soon. And I'm thinking about a ski trip over the holidays. Maybe if you could get leave?"
Again, he was stunned by his brother's words. "I, um, can't make any promises, but...yeah, I'll see what I can do." John was surprised at how much the idea appealed to him.
A comfortable silence fell between them. John polished off the rest of his beer and Dave, ever the good host, promptly brought them each a fresh one. Settling back into the window seat, Dave again turned serious. "Can I ask you something?"
John's caution meter ramped up a notch and he carefully chose his words. "As long it's not classified, then...maybe?"
Dave took his time before he speaking. "At the wake, when you said you stayed away because it's what you assumed Dad wanted...I didn't sense any anger there. Well, not towards Dad anyway" he amended, flashing a wry smile. "I'm wondering...after what he said in the video...do you regret not seeing him before he passed?"
John took a deep breath, slowly blowing it out. His fight or flight instinct was screaming at him to run, but he forced himself to remain seated and sip his beer while he watched the horses outside. "No. It...wouldn't have gone well."
"So...you are still angry with him," persisted Dave.
John shook his head, but didn't immediately answer. He picked at the label on his beer bottle, taking his time in sorting through his feelings. When he finally spoke, he found himself unable to look his brother in the eye, watching the horses outside instead. "By the time I hit my teens, I knew I could never be the son he wanted me to be. I was angry with him a lot back then. But I held onto the hope that once I finished school and was established in my career, he'd come around. He'd see that I was happy and doing well and accept that I was never coming onboard at SI. Well, eventually he would." He paused, steeling himself against the unpleasant memories. "Then came the day I told him about my divorce. I don't remember ever being that angry before. With anyone. And when I left, he seemed pretty clear about the fact that he wouldn't exactly welcome me back."
"You had to know he wasn't really serious," interrupted Dave.
"Once I cooled down, I realized that I had two choices," continued John. "I could keep coming back, knowing nothing would ever change between us, or I could do as he seemed to want and stay away, start fresh without him in my life. It was then I realized that, just like I'd never be the son he wanted me to be, he could never be the father I needed him to be. So I made peace with it. I let it go and moved on."
"So even after what he said on the tape..."
"Nothing good would have come out of it," insisted John. "Look, I don't doubt his sincerity. I believe he really did regret how things went down between us. But even so, I heard enough of the same old, same old in that recording to know it wouldn't have gone well--in spite of his good intentions. Old habits and all, you know?" He cocked his head to one side, a quizzical expression settling over his features. "Hey, what was that bit about the President advising him to give up on me joining the company?"
"Oh, that," said Dave, sighing deeply. "A few months back, before things really started going downhill with Dad's health, he was at a symposium in D.C. to give a speech. Right after he finished, he was met by a pair of Secret Service men and invited to the White House. He was excited, said he felt like he'd finally gotten the recognition he'd been working for all his life." He paused, as if trying to find with words to go on. "It, um, didn't quite go as he expected."
John, pausing in the middle of a swig of beer, raised his eyebrows.
"The President told him that he'd heard Dad was in town and he just couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet John Sheppard's father."
Beer sprayed everywhere as John choked on his drink. "What?" he rasped, still coughing.
"I should probably apologize, but..."
"What did they tell him?" demanded John, still hoarse and coughing. Every muscle in his body tensed as he waited for the explanation.
"Relax," scolded Dave. "They didn't tell him anything, really. Gave him the whole thanks-of-a-grateful-nation speech." He sighed. "And of course Dad being Dad, he had to mention how pleased he'd be when you retired and joined the company. That's when the President told him that it would be best for everyone if he'd let go of that idea, because they weren't going to allow you to retire any time soon, if ever--no matter what your desires in that regard might be."
John winced, his coughing mostly under control now, and began to relax. "I'm guessing that didn't go over very well."
"I think you might be surprised. If you're thinking it set Dad off, President or no President--I know that was my first thought--you'd be wrong. It didn't. It certainly shocked him, no question about that, but it also affected him very deeply. In fact, it was shortly after that when his health took a turn for the worse. That's when he finally began to look beyond what little we'd been told about you over the years and admitted--to himself, at least--that you weren't just another chopper pilot."
Anger quickly roared to life at the insinuation. "Oh, no, I am not going to be held responsible for Dad dying. Don't even go there."
Dave shook his head. "Absolutely not. I'm not accusing you of causing any of Dad's health problems, far from it. I was simply stating a fact regarding the timing, nothing more. I think if you really had to place blame, it would be with Dad himself. That was when he finally started taking a good, hard look at his relationship with you and eventually at the rest of his life, too. As he said in the video, he didn't like what he saw and it took a toll on him. I think the hardest thing of all for him to process was that you'd managed to achieve so much on your own, without his help and by going against his wishes."
John didn't like where this was going at all and it was all he could do to make himself stay seated instead of bolting for the front door. "Look, I don't know how or why you suddenly seem to think I'm some big important...deal, but I can assure you, I'm really not."
Dave held up his hand, stopping John mid-sentence. "I said I wasn't going to ask you to reveal classified information and I'm trying to accept that you can't talk about what you do. But give me a little credit. As Dad so kindly pointed out, there are hundreds of Lieutenant Colonels in the Air Force. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that it's not likely the President would be familiar with very many of them. But he knew you--and pretty well, from what Dad said."
"It's not what you think," insisted John. "He reads my reports. That's all. End of story."
Dave looked skeptical. "Right. He reads your reports. So you're telling me that he reads reports from every Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force? Somehow, I doubt that."
"Well, no, of course not. He reads my reports solely due to the classified nature of my work. You're making it sound like we're best buds or something and that couldn't be further from the truth."
"Are you saying that you've never actually met him? Because Dad sure seemed to think he knew a lot more about you than someone who simply submitted reports for him to read."
John sighed. "Well, no. There was one time. Sort of."
Dave's eyebrows rose. "Okay, I'll bite. How does one "sort of" meet the President?"
"All right, yes, I did actually meet him once. Or so I'm told."
"You don't remember meeting the President? How does one NOT remember meeting the President of the United States?"
"You're not going to let this go, are you?" said John, resigning himself to telling what he could of the tale.
"Not on your life, brother dear." Dave laughed, obviously enjoying John's discomfort.
"Fine. I was invited to a reception at the White House--with the President--but ended up having fairly major surgery a few days before. It was too late to reschedule and the brass decided that I really needed to be there. So they convinced the docs to shoot me up with something to get me through it and drop me off at the party."
Dave's jaw fell open. "You went to meet the President when you were..."
"Higher than a kite," confirmed John. "Stoned out of my mind. Don't remember a thing. Well, hardly anything. At least I didn't screw up or make a total fool of myself."
Dave grinned, his eyes twinkling. John remembered the expression well and knew it did not bode well for him. "So...if you hardly remember anything, how can you be so sure you didn't?"
"Because trust me, I would have heard about it. Loud and long. So since my superiors didn't ream me a new one..." he answered, taking another pull from his beer.
"Not that you remember anyway," added Dave, his eyes still twinkling.
John stared at him for a moment, his mouth still full. A sudden overwhelming urge to laugh prevented him swallowing and he couldn't help but spit beer everywhere--again--as the fit took hold. Once he finally got himself under control, he conceded. "Point taken. I should probably have...someone...check my jacket."
"I think I'd like to have been a fly on the wall for that reception," said Dave, still chuckling as he stood up. "And speaking of jackets, the one you're wearing seems to need some attention. There's a clean towel by the sink in the kitchen; I'll be right back."
After a quick clean up of both the jacket and area around the window seat, John reluctantly turned to his brother. "I should be going soon."
Dave looked disappointed, but nodded. "Understood. I could drive you," he offered.
"I, um, already have a cab arranged. But thanks." John found himself almost wishing he hadn't made prior arrangements for the cabbie to return. "I still have a little time though and we haven't finished our talk."
"True," agreed Dave. "Although we could save it for next time, if you'd like?"
John sighed. Part of him wanted to jump at the suggestion and leave on the pleasant terms they'd managed to establish. But one thing life in the Pegasus Galaxy had taught him was that there was no way to predict when you'd be the one to run out of tomorrows. "Tempting, but I think sooner would be better than later."
Dave settled back into his spot on the window seat, gesturing for John to do the same. "Okay. So given the limited time available, where do we go with this next?"
Having settled back into his previous spot across from his brother, John again watched the horses outside the window. Despite his impending departure, he took the time to choose his words carefully. Turning his attention fully to his brother, he continued. "We hit a few rough patches today, though I think we ultimately found ourselves on common ground. But what about next time? Or the time after that?"
"I'm not sure what you're asking." Dave hesitated. "What is it that you want from me?"
"That is the burning question, isn't it?" John pulled his knees in closer, hugging them more tightly to his chest. "I told you that I've known for a very long time that I'd never be the son Dad wanted and he'd never be the father I needed." He paused for a deep breath as Dave nodded. "So I guess that leaves the question of you and me. I want this to work. But I have to ask myself, can I be the brother you want me to be? Because if I'm honest, I have to admit I'm not sure I'm capable of that. Then there's the other side of the coin. Can you be the brother I need you to be? And I don't know the answer to that one either. Or maybe I do, but I just don't want to admit it."
Dave's eyes widened and he looked like he'd been sucker punched. John felt badly about it, but there was no sense in continuing this if either one of them had unrealistic expectations regarding the other. That was another thing life in Pegasus had taught him--life was just too damn short.
To his credit, Dave did not immediately snap back at him and instead took time to consider his own words. "I have to admit that's not what I was expecting you to say. And I also have to admit my first impulse was to contradict you and insist that absolutely, we can make it work." He brushed a hand through his hair, looking suddenly weary and vulnerable. "But things are rarely that simple, are they?"
"No," agreed John. "They're not. So I guess it's time for each of us to figure out our levels of expectation."
"Before we go any further with this, there's something I need to say." Curious, John nodded and Dave took a deep breath. "You asked me earlier if I even knew why I was angry and resentful. If I'd answered you then, I would have only been able to give you part of the reason." Dave broke eye contact, looking out the window at the horses.
John waited, but his brother made no move to continue. "And now?"
"Up to this point, I thought I was angry with you for not being here for Dad during his last days or to help with the final arrangements. It's only now that I understand there was more to it. A lot more. It's been building ever since you joined the Air Force and I never even realized it." His face took on a far away expression as he stared out the window. "From the time we were able to speak, it was drilled into us. Sheppard Industries, family loyalty, family duty. Over and over. Every. Single. Day." John nodded his agreement as Dave looked him directly in the eyes. "When you took your oath to the Air Force, you put them ahead of all things Sheppard. Ahead of us. Your duty and loyalty belonged to total strangers, not to your family. Not to Dad and not to me. You left us behind without a second thought."
The words stung a lot more than he'd expected, but John accepted the blame. "Yes. Yes, I did. And I'm sorry if that hurt you--or Dad. I never intended to betray anyone, least of all you. Look, in the beginning all I wanted was to fly, to find a way to be up in sky as much as humanly possible and going as fast as humanly possible. Joining the Air Force was the best way I could find to make that happen; pissing off the old man in the process was just a bonus. But once I was in, I discovered it was about more than flying. A lot more. It was about making a difference. It was about helping people, about saving lives. You and Dad didn't need me then and you don't need me now, not really. Those strangers? They needed me. They still need me. There are people out there who are alive today solely because I joined the Air Force and do what I do. I'm proud of that. And it's why I can't--and won't--apologize for putting my duty to the Air Force before my duty to the Sheppard family."
Dave didn't respond immediately. "Wow," he said at last. "I can't say that I ever thought about it in those terms before. I always pictured you as a glorified flying chauffeur slash delivery boy. I never considered how you might impact anyone or anything on the ground below." He sighed, wincing as he again spoke. "And I think this is as good a time as any for a confession. After my behavior today, I owe you that much. I need to admit to you that prior to today...it's been a long time since I've looked at you without the filter of Dad's feelings and opinions. A very long time. In my head I knew how much time had passed, but somehow I've never been able to see you as anything other than the immature selfish boy who left home for college all those years ago. Not until today."
John stood abruptly. With one hand in the pocket of his jeans and the other on the back of his neck, he began a slow circuit of the room. His first instinct was to throw in the towel and storm out, to tell his brother to go straight to hell and close the book on their relationship once and for all. Though the confession had stung, he'd known for years that Dave shared their father's view of his choices and maturity level so the confession wasn't really a surprise to him. No, what had shocked him and cut him to the quick in the process was the glorified flying chauffeur remark. He had certainly made his fair share of mistakes, but he'd meant what he'd said when he told Dave that he was proud of what he did. He was out there, day after day, putting his life on the line and the only thing his so-called family saw was a glorified chauffeur and delivery boy. If Dave only knew even a fraction of what he did, he'd be singing a far different tune. And if he knew the real truth about John's job...and therein lie the rub. Dave didn't know, didn't have the slightest clue as to what John really did every day. And he never would because even if he'd wanted to, John couldn't tell him.
He found himself back in front of the window seat, facing a worried looking Dave. "Okay, that hurt," he said candidly. "I mean your confession wasn't exactly a surprise, but that glorified chauffeur thing? That really hurt. I guess I can't really blame you though. You don't know anything about what I do and I can't tell you, so..."
"I am sorry," Dave assured him. "I know I haven't been very fair to you, let alone understanding. I guess it was always just...easier...to think of you doing something mundane. Something safe. If I'm honest with myself, I have to admit that it was mostly wishful thinking on my part. I'm quite certain there is one thing about you that hasn't changed and probably never will--you're far too much of an adrenaline junkie to ever be satisfied with anything so mundane. Maybe I'm finally acknowledging it because the evidence is staring me right in the face," he said, gesturing to the bruised areas on John's neck. "But whatever the reason, for the first time I'm seeing the reality of your profession. Because as much as I'd love to convince myself that those marks are from something far less hazardous and far more scandalous, I have a rather strong feeling that they're work-related. Your job is dangerous. Much more so than I want to think about, let alone admit."
John was regretting his insistence that they continue this conversation and again considered heading for the door. Grimacing, he shrugged. "Look, I won't deny that there is a certain amount of risk in what we do, but I meant what I said before. I am very good at my job. As are all of my people. We aren't careless. But if we can save even one life, then whatever hazards we might have to overcome, whatever sacrifices might be required, it's all worth it."
Dave stared at him for a long moment, seeming to search for something John couldn't begin to guess at. "You're doing it again," said Dave at last.
John raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
Continuing to stare at his brother, Dave nodded. "You can't give me any details and I accept that, but I'm beginning to connect the dots here. You're in a command position. Pretty high up the chain, from what I'm seeing."
John felt like his stomach suddenly did a barrel roll. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Dave laughed. "You don't even realize it, do you? It's become such a part of you that you aren't even aware of it. Earlier, when you were discussing your plans for your share of the estate, you kept referring to 'your guys.' And just now, it was 'your people.' You switch from 'I' to 'we' without even thinking. Dad may not have spoken to you in years, but I have a feeling that he was right on the money about you."
"There you go with the money again," said John, hoping to divert the conversation away from further discussion of him and his current employment position.
"Okay, I get the hint. I'll let it go," said Dave, grinning. "But I'm not going to change my mind about you."
John turned to him, dead serious. "But can you accept me? Can you really do a one-eighty and suddenly accept that I can't tell you about where I am or what I'm doing? Can you accept that there are going to be times when I will be out of touch and that some of those times will be for prolonged periods?"
Dave's light-hearted expression faded. "I want to promise that it will all be smooth sailing from here on out. But I don't think either one of us can make that pledge in good conscience. What I can promise is that I will do my best to accept your job with all the limitations it entails. I'm probably going to get impatient and even irritated from time to time when you can't tell me something I want to know. What will be different from now on is that I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to rein in my temper and exercise a very generous amount of patience in regard to the limitations that come with your career. That's all I can promise." He took a deep breath. "So what about you? Are you willing to do your part and make a sincere effort to stay in contact?"
John didn't answer right away, taking his time to sort through his thoughts. "This isn't going to be easy for either of us. There are going to be periods of time when I won't be able to make contact, no matter how badly I want to. And there won't be any way to let you know that the silence is not intentional. That's just the nature of my job. And to be honest, I'm not sure what I would say. We live in completely different worlds now, there's not much we have in common. But in spite of all the issues, yeah, I'd like to really give this thing a try."
"Okay, so we both know and admit there are going to be bumps in the road now and then," said Dave, looking relieved. "All either one of us can promise is to do our best to meet the other's level of expectation. So the question is, will that be enough?"
As much as John wanted a definitive answer before he left, the reality was that their situation was far too complicated for that. Only time would tell if each of them could or would live up to their word. Or not. That left only one answer for him to give. "It's enough for me."
Dave's smile returned. "Me, too."
As if on cue, a horn sounded in the driveway. "Sounds like your ride is here."
"Yeah," agreed John. "So, I guess this is goodbye."
Dave stepped forward and gave him an affectionate clap on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself. Let me know if you can make the ski trip. I'd really love to be able to spend the holidays together. It's...been too long."
"Yeah, it has," agreed John. "I will do my best, but..."
"I know, no guarantees." Dave smiled ruefully. "But I want you to know it does mean a lot that you're willing to try."
The horn sounded again and the pair made their way to the front door. John turned the handle and opened the door, pausing to turn back to his brother. "I'm glad we finally got to have that talk."
"Me, too. And I look forward to doing it again--hopefully soon."
John nodded and with a slight wave of his hand, stepped outside. He was stopped in his tracks almost instantly as his brother called out to him. "Wait. Don't leave yet, you forgot something."
John waited as his brother disappeared inside, only to return a few moments later. Curious, he watched as Dave approached, holding out the plastic CD case John had left on the table at the beginning of their talk. There was an addition though--Dave had inserted a small white paper. "My current contact info, including email address," he explained, handing it to John. "I'm not going to make it easy for you to lose touch again. So I'll look forward to hearing how you're doing now and then."
Taking a deep breath, he nodded. "I'll try, but..."
"No guarantees," they said in unison. Dave laughed and John quickly joined in.
"I will write when I can, I promise."
"That's all I'm asking," agreed Dave.
"Don't expect much in the way of details," warned John.
"I'll be more than happy with an occasional "I'm still alive." Or "I'm still happy." Or better yet, "I've finally made time for a social life and found the woman of my dreams."" Dave winked, his eyes full of mischief.
"Don't hold your breath waiting on that last one." John laughed, enjoying the lighter moment.
The two shared a long overdue brotherly hug, slapping one another on the back twice. John got into the cab and rolled the window down. "I'll check into that holiday leave," he called. "I'll let you know as soon as I hear something definite."
Dave nodded, smiling as he waved. "Looking forward to it."
The cab pulled away and John waved back, watching as his brother's form grew gradually smaller, eventually disappearing from sight.
~A~
The plane hit a deep pocket of turbulence, bouncing John's head hard on the seat back. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the headache he'd been ignoring for the better part of the day refused to be denied any longer. As he watched the clouds rolling by, his thoughts turned to his meeting with Wendell Jameson. The attorney had listened to his tentative plans and was able to answer a number of questions for him. While John was normally a fairly quick study, he'd found himself distracted and struggling to absorb the intricacies of the ins and outs of charity foundations. Wendell quickly suggested that he put together a detailed report that would include all of the pros and cons of setting up such a foundation and send it to John. John immediately agreed, feeling somewhat guilty about the sense of relief that came with putting off making a decision right away. So until he received the report and reviewed the data, there was nothing more to do but wait. It would take some time for the estate to clear probate anyway, but even so he found himself looking forward to the time when his guys would be able to reap the benefits.
John leaned back and closed his eyes, but there was no chance of him dozing off. Between the storm of his emotions and chaos in his thoughts, he had no doubt that it would be a long time before sleep would be claiming him. All he wanted right now was to get back to Atlantis, put the events of the past few days behind him and lose himself in the insanity that came with life in the Pegasus Galaxy. Ronon would be back in the city by now and if McKay had returned from Planet Kid World, he would no doubt be pestering the big guy unmercifully for any and all details about what had transpired at the wake, not to mention about John's family and background. At least he didn't have to worry about anyone finding out about his inheritance. Ronon didn't know anything about it and John certainly wasn't going to tell anyone.
The flight attendant interrupted his thoughts, announcing their imminent arrival in Colorado Springs as well as asking all passengers to return to their seats and fasten their seatbelts. John made a mental checklist of stops to make before heading to the mountain. Number one would be a first-class liquor store to purchase a bottle of Glennfiddich--not for Carson this time, but for himself, to consume as he attempted to sort through his feelings about Patrick Sheppard and the revelations made in his recording. Then again, given the complexity, maybe he should just spring for a whole case of the stuff. Heaven knew he could certainly afford it now. And when he got back to Atlantis, all he'd need was a late night on a deserted pier, just himself and the Glennfiddich. A lot of the Glennfiddich. And quite probably more than just one late night. It was a start though. There, one issue settled, two to go.
Next, Dave. While not as complicated as his relationship with the old man, another late night on another deserted pier to sort through the events of the past few days was certainly in order. This time with a six-pack or two of his favorite beer instead of the Glennfiddich. Things between him and Dave were about as settled as they could be, at least for now. He would keep his word and look into getting leave for the holidays, but only time would tell how that would play out. Assuming he were able to obtain said leave, John had no way to know if he'd find Jeckyll-Dave or Hyde-Dave waiting for him when the time came. Still, they'd both laid a whole lot of long-held cards on the table today. It hadn't been easy and at times it had been downright painful, but they'd managed to part on good terms. With luck--and a lot of effort on both of their parts--perhaps the bumps in the road ahead would be minimal. Only time would tell. Better order an extra case or two of his favorite brew for good measure. It's not like it would go to waste or anything.
So that left the matter of the inheritance and what to do about that particular headache. It was hard to admit, even to himself, that he was going to accept his share of the estate. One way or another, foundation or no, his guys were going to have that safe haven in which to recover and spend time with family. There wasn't any point in avoiding it now. Though it went against every instinct he had, it was time to acknowledge that he was now John Sheppard, multi-millionaire. God, how he hated the sound of that. He couldn't think of one single person he knew who would be capable of ever understanding his feelings about the money. And that was exactly why he had no intention of ever telling anyone on Atlantis about it. But since he did have the money, or at least would have it eventually, that meant he could do a little shopping for his closest friends before he returned--and maybe even splurge a little. Especially for his team, who meant every bit as much to him as any blood relation ever could. Maybe a cool new knife for Ronon. Yeah, that'd work. And a toy or something for Teyla's future kid, with maybe some girly-type bath stuff for her. She'd be good with that. And for Rodney, maybe some new electronic Earth gadget. Or maybe a case or two of that snobby, high end coffee he was always raving about. Or both, both would be doable. And pizza. For the whole expedition, since last time he'd attempted that they'd been way-laid by a long-lost Ancient warship full of long-lost Ancients. But for the record, if they ended up getting kicked out of the city by more long-lost Ancients this time, he was never going to spring for pizzas again. Ever. For anyone. Hey, maybe this time he could bring beer to go with the pizzas. Carter would be okay with that. Maybe. Or maybe she wouldn't need to know about that one minor, little detail...
The End