Invisible wounds- Shep HC Secret Santa 2011
M1B-129
John’s a rational level headed kind of guy….most of the time, but the long, in depth and very expensive training the Air Force and SGC provides does not prepare you for any of the weird crappy, sheer what the hell of the Pegasus Galaxy.
It’s been stressful recently to say the least. Ronon hallucinating Wraith today is small beer. John had been up close and personal with one and lived to tell the tale. Heck they’d broken out of prison together and ended up as ‘brothers'. How messed up is that? Then they’d dealt with Rodney’s sister and all the sibling angst that came with it together with an alternate universe version of McKay called Rod. That Rodney had had to deplete their only ZPM, much to Elizabeth’s dismay, was the icing on the cake. John almost felt he had the right to feel a little out of sorts, because what if Hive ships appeared, or some rogue faction of the Genii? But at least Rod was returned safely and no-one destroyed a universe.
And today? Well, he doesn’t have words for it at present. He can’t think about the report and letters he’ll have to write later, let alone the debrief. He’s too edgy.
There’s time on his hands while they wait for the Daedalus to arrive. Ronon’s fit enough to keep guard. When he’s absolutely sure everyone’s really okay and not going crazy and seeing things or dying, John sets off into the forest while it’s still light. He doesn’t want to leave Carson and the others on their own for too long-just in case and he has to check back in with Weir in half an hour.
Damn the sneaky Wraith and the Genii meddling with things! He’s lost six men today. He’s buzzing with excess adrenaline and anger and guilt. The crash when it comes will be nasty, but he pushes it away until he’s back in Atlantis. Focus. Got things to do.
He finds the place where Major Leonard’s remains are, out in the boonies near the bivouac they’d sheltered in. He told Teyla he’d get the dog tags and he keeps his promises. The blast site is not pretty. Insects buzz and there’s a nasty smell. Swallowing hard and breathing through his mouth, he switches off his human heart and searches.
He remembers the defiant look on the Major's face as he pulled the pin out of the grenade and held it close. Dammit. In any other situation it would have been heroic. It's not a good way to go. He'll make sure the records explain why they shouldn't be tainted by friendly fire and suicide labels, although technically it's the truth. At the same time, the machine made them do it. It would be difficult for families to understand the nuances. His head reels thinking about it. Ronon and he had almost...as if he didn't already have a black mark on his service jacket.
Stop it.
He'd casevaced wounded in Afghanistan and seen the aftermath of IED's. He's never been there when someone....not that close before, and the last time it had been that marooned Wraith that Lorne blew up with a drone.
Don’t over- think what you’re looking at. This was different, a fellow officer.
His back aches as he crouches on the ground, a combination of being blasted forwards, dragging Teyla around in his delusion, and running around the forest trying not to get killed.
He’s lucky after several minutes of careful searching; he finds the dog tags and puts them in one of his tac vest pockets. He lays a few glow sticks to mark the site for the retrieval team and hopefully put off any scavenging wildlife, and leaves.
He gets back to where his team and Kagan have settled for the night. Just in time for the check in. He winces every time Rodney mutters ‘you shot me!” as he talks to Elizabeth. They can manage with their supplies until Colonel Caldwell turns up.
He’s fine, really he is, until Teyla tentatively asks him if he got Captain Holland to safety.
“No,” he says after a moment and gets up to avoid any more questions. It brings back such a bleak time for him, that he can hardly breathe.
He fetches a blanket for Teyla who looks a little weary; he passes one out to Beckett for Rodney. Rodney won’t want to talk to him. How many times does he have to say he’s sorry? Ronon just looks at him daring him to say anything. He’s wearing a spare Atlantis jacket as the evening draws in and he looks, to John’s eyes, odd- out of place. Almost as odd as suddenly wearing desert camos...
Everyone is alive, warm and not crazy or dying and in the silence he lights the camp fire and rummages in a pack for MRE’s.
It’s a huge sigh of relief when the Daedalus contacts them four long hours later. John liaises with them for the soldier dead retrieval team so he arrives late to sick bay. He expects Dr Biro's PM's on Atlantis to confirm the video and witness evidence on M1B-129. It doesn't make it any easier.
He tries to brush off the Daedalus medic. He’s fine really, and the blood’s not his- it's Major Leonard's and Teyla's. Unfortunately, there's a flurry when they hear about the blast and he idly mentions the slight ringing in his ears that worried him as they were waiting to be picked up. He relaxes when they confirm that it will probably ease of its own accord but he needs to tell someone if the pain gets worse over the next 24 hours.
Beckett’s tied up with his own story and explaining about the injured team members and his own terrifying experience. John stays long enough to know that Rodney, Ronon, Teyla and Kagan are stable until they get back, no complications arising. Then he heads for the bridge to thank Caldwell and report. Caldwell promptly boots him off the bridge, telling him to stand down for the short trip back. The fact that he's still dirt smudged and wearing his unzipped tac vest may have something to do with that.
How can he rest knowing he shot most of his team and relived one of the worst defining moments of his career? He spends the time pacing up and down in his allocated cabin unable to start a report or any letters then walking round the ship. He leaves the others alone, figuring that they all need time and space to process what happened today.
0o0
Atlantis welcomes him like always, a tingling caress over his tired body. He’s glad to be back home. He knows Beckett and the injured will prefer Atlantis's infirmary amongst friends, no disrespect intended to the Daedalus. They'll relax and heal quicker. The Daedalus beams them directly to the infirmary, mostly for Kagan and Rodney's injuries.
Kagan, Rodney and Teyla are wheeled away for surgery, and Ronon and John wait. Beckett's also having a post mission check and fussing because for once he's the patient. It doesn't stop him from reading over Ronon and John's charts sent over from the Daedalus.
"What's this about your ears?" Beckett rounds on him, his accent strengthening as his anger increases. "How'm I 'sposed to help you when you dinnae tell me!"
"You were busy. I wasn't dying. Besides it's almost worn off," John tells him as Dr Weir comes in to get the latest reports. He walks over to greet her.
"I'm sorry about Major Leonard's team. I expect there'll be the usual service?" she says, her face sad.
"Um , yes. I'll liaise with Dr Biro, when she's finished and then we can let everyone know when and where- tomorrow maybe. The Daedalus said they'd wait and take them back when we're ready. "
"I'll expect reports when you can. For now clean up and get some rest," she urges and moves on to talk to the medical teams.
0o0
In the days that follow Ronon leaves him be. Rodney’s still a little skittish after the whole ‘you shot me!’ thing and staying in his room resting with several laptops. John did say he was sorry and he means it, but it’s all he can offer. Beckett’s still upset with himself, too. And over compensating. Keeping people in for longer and double- checking himself. Teyla is moving about well and doing PT. Thank goodness she was able to get him to pull the cable from the core. He's glad he didn't injure her further, dragging her about the forest like that.
And John? He’s fine. Absolutely fine. Always is, always will be. No fuss, no attention grabbing. Dad would be proud. But he won’t be fine if people - namely Teyla and Dr Beckett - don’t stop asking him, because he will have gotten rid of them where nobody can find them.
So maybe he isn't getting a good eight hours of quality sleep at night. Who is? The extra time on the range is time well spent, filling Wraith shaped pieces of paper with big accurate holes. The longer runs with Ronon are good for him, builds up his stamina. If he sleeps at all, it's because he's exhausted his body so he can't re-live the pain of being fed on or seeing Major Leonard pull the pin. And if it's not that, he has lovely nightmares where he did shoot all of his team under the influence of the machine.
John's also called out several times to help Radek since Rodney finds walking about painful and things are still a little awkward between them. Atlantis is suffering another spate of glitches and wobbles. Rodney could probably talk them through some of it and get it done quicker but John doesn't want to bother him. He needs to heal. Besides he likes Radek's quiet muttering in English and Czech and his sly humour, and it gives him something to do at 2am. And at 4am...
0o0
Off world four weeks later.
It's raining hard and bitterly cold and Lorne's voice is tight in his ear. "Wraith!" John runs towards the sound of the stuttered P90 rounds, confident that Ronon and Teyla are with Rodney and the others mopping up.
He arrives in time to see the long white- haired Wraith gripping Lorne's hand with the gun still in it, crushing it. Lorne's yelling and wrestling and trying to stab at its feeding hand with his KaBar knife in the other. The Wraith bashes him hard in the face with his own gun. Stunned, Lorne drops to the muddy ground. The Wraith bends down, feeding hand stretched out.
John literally sees red and fires bullets into it, yelling "No!" as he does so. The Wraith jerks and growls, spinning round to face the new threat. Lorne's still lying sprawled on the ground.
He knows it's fed recently because it’s not bloody damn bastard dying… his gun clicks empty and without losing a beat he swipes hard at the Wraith’s head with the P90 stock as hard as he can.
"See how you like it, ugly!"
The Wraith stumbles a step or two backwards in surprise. Flicking a glance at Lorne, he sees his eyes blinking. One hand twitches towards the gun in his holster.
The Wraith roars and back hands John away propelling him backwards into a tree. John rallies and launches himself at the Wraith who has turned back to Lorne. He runs at the Wraith gathering his arms about its torso to tackle and get it face down. There's a pleasing crunch and thud to the ground. The Wraith bucks and flings a hand out behind him. John hangs on, grabs and stabs its feeding hand into the wet earth with his knife. There's a gunshot and the Wraith finally goes still. John looks up to see a shaky Lorne holding out his nine mil before slumping back down and groaning.
John pulls the knife out and dispatches the Wraith with a crisp slice to the neck. Just in case. Although he's pretty certain Lorne's head shot did the trick- it makes him feel better. Sweaty, bruised and bloody he’s panting for breath still crouched over the body when he hears something.
Rustling, the wet slap of feet slipping, a muffled curse. Bloodied knife ready to throw, all tense and battle drenched he whirls round to confront whatever it is. Rodney white shocked face, mouth open in an O of surprise stares back at him.
"Gimme your spare ammo!" he orders and Rodney clumsily rips open a pocket for the block and throws it at him. John catches it and slaps it into his P90.
“Sheppard?”
John dismisses his query with a frown, sheathes his knife and goes over to check on Lorne. He'll deal with why Rodney's out here on his own later.
“How ya doin,’ Major?”
“Headache, fine in a bit.” John digs in his vest for gauze to mop up the blood and tilts his head to check his eyes. He sticks a few butterfly strips to hold the cut until they get back. Lorne swallows hard, obviously struggling with nausea, but at least his pupils are evenly dilated. They know Beckett will do a more intensive check back at base. Not a severe concussion but painful and uncomfortable even so.
"Did we get 'em all?" Lorne asks "Because he's busted my right hand, too."
"Yeah, I hope so. Jeez." John stares at Lorne's bruised and swollen digits. Reaching into another pocket, he unfolds a square and ties a sling round Lorne's neck and helps him tuck the damaged hand inside. Lorne fumbles in a pocket for some pain relief tablets takes a gulp of water from the canteen John holds out and recaps.
He clicks his radio “ Access to the Gate cleared?”
Teyla and Ronon confirm the rout of the Wraith and clear access.
“Head for the jumper immediately just in case. I’ve got Lorne and McKay. Be with you in a few minutes.” He turns to Rodney.
" Help me with Lorne and let's go!"
"Is he okay? The Wraith didn't...?" Rodney asks.He reaches down for an arm as John picks up Lorne's other weapon and knife.
"No. I got there in time."
"Yeah, I saw." grunts Rodney as they lever Lorne upright and stagger off back towards the rest of the team and the jumpers. Rodney doesn't bitch once about hefting Lorne. John tries not to worry too much about a non-verbal McKay.
Lorne insists on flying back with the other two members of his team. Sgt. Harris takes over the flying duties and Lt. Baker is a medic. Lt .Wayne Jennings rests in the black body bag on the bench seat. John understands.
He concentrates on the comforting hum of the jumper around him and the mental routine as he flies his team home and follows Lorne in Jumper 4. No-one says much; they're all just glad to be alive. They're bruised and battered and he's soaked to the skin, muddy, chilled and saddened by another soldier dead. Rodney is quiet,and maybe it was too soon after the thing with Major Leonard's team.
They arrive at the jumper bay and Ronon, Teyla and Rodney file out before him, picking up weaponry and jackets as they go. Lorne's team is on their way to the infirmary, and as he thinks about the questions that Beckett will ask him and he wonders what Rodney saw or thinks he saw in John's face as he almost killed the Wraith with his bare hands.
Suddenly, he can't go there, do that. Not yet. He needs...something. He gets into the transporter with the others, beginning to feel trapped in a small space. He has to get out. His heart speeds up, the smell of the Wraith blood on his hands and clothes...
The doors open and he lets them get out first, turning right to the infirmary. He waits for a second before exiting and goes in the opposite direction.
Ronon turns around "Sheppard?"
"I'll be along in a minute." Ronon looks at him trying to work out what's up but gives him a short nod.
He strides out almost running. He slips into a room and sits in the dark and waits for the shakes to start. He's tired, adrenaline-drained and scared by his visceral reaction to seeing a Wraith again. You're alive, you didn't die. Your team made it back, so did Lorne's .
Except for Lt Jennings, a darker voice in his head whispers.. Fed on by the Wraith He shivers violently and hunches forward, wrapping his arm around himself.
Dammit.
Pull yourself together! He can almost hear his father's sharp voice.
He was over this! That makes him sit up and lean against the back of the comfy chair he's in.
He been trying to stuff the whole being fed by a Wraith and almost dying, into a locked box in his memories, but it keeps popping open, keeping him awake many nights. The pain of it, the hunger in Todd's eyes as he did it, the fact that Weir and his team had to watch it only made him feel- not embarrassed exactly but unwilling voyeurs. He hadn't wanted to scream, to seem weak. He told himself that he had screamed in defiance.
But he'd got over it. Gradually people (mostly Rodney) stopped telling him he looked younger than before, Ronon really helped with the heavy- duty sparring sessions as he worked through his "issues". Teyla for once seemed unsure of this new knowledge of Wraith abilities. Giving so much life force back seemed wrong, unheard of. Almost like a reward, like worshippers. He wasn't that.
He meant what he said about ever seeing that Wraith again. But there was still the devil on this shoulders whispering- you deserve this. You woke them up early in the first place. It's your fault you've lost men, and whole communities and planets have been culled.
Dammit.
Then the whole thing with the leftovers from the Arcturus Project and the exotic particles happened. He'd seen enough TV and read enough to think about the idea of alternate universes, but to interact with Rod was beyond weird. Rodney and his sister, he'd helped to make her see that Rodney did care, that he'd changed, that it wasn't too late. Too bad he couldn't feel the same about his own family.
And it got him thinking too hard again. What if he'd never made it to Atlantis- turned General O'Neill down? What if he'd been discharged from the Air Force and gone surfing instead? What if he'd never joined the USAF and raced cars? Maybe in one universe his mom would still be alive...Holland too...
0o0
There's a noise at the door and it slides open to reveal Dr Heightmeyer standing in the doorway. Her office is mostly shades of dark and shadow, only a thin strip of light spilling in from the corridor before the door shuts. He watches silently as she fumbles for the light panel, and it flares briefly before dimming.
She taps it again, but it barely comes on. She sighs and walks to her desk anyway.
"Atlantis let's me do whatever I want," John says in the dark, making her jump and banging a knee into the corner of a drawer.
"W... What?"
"It's more of a how and why actually. Genetics, doctor," he drawls.
"Colonel Sheppard?" she asks
"The one and only."
"Why...?"
"Am I here? Why are you here. Why'd you sign on, doc? Letters from home, someone and someplace to go back to? Family? Respect? Why are any of us here?"
He can see that she's off guard. In the gloom her eyes are slowly adjusting trying to look at him.
He knows the shadows accentuate his dark hair and planes of his face all angular. He knows he's sweaty and dirty and he's still wearing his off- world tac vest and P90. Overlaying the jasmine she uses in the room is a faint tang of sweat and blood, mud and grass. Wraith blood and some of Lorne's.
He can almost see her thinking Why is he here? In the dark. Alone.
She raises her hand up to her earpiece, but she doesn't call anyone and she drops her hand and waits.
"I'm fine. I'm going for my post mission check-up soon enough. Don't bother Carson just yet, please," he asks.
"Alright. All the times you're supposed to see me and make excuses and now you're sitting in the dark half- scaring me? I'm beginning to feel unloved."
" Hey, I just needed a time out for a little bit. Somewhere they won't find me, poke me, nag me, ask questions. Just five minutes peace."
"Tough day, Colonel?"
"Don't crawl inside my head, not yet," he growls. " I need to think... got a letter to write..."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh. Those kinds of letters."
"Not the first time you've had to do them, " she acknowledges.
"Doesn't make it any easier," he replies.
"No, of course not."
"Then why say it doctor? Especially when they have to die and it's all... and I don't know if....."
He's upset, angry and slightly unravelled.
"How did they...um.?"
"Wraith," he says bitterly and then shudders.
"Why didn't he listen?" he asks despairingly. There's a slight rustle as he leans forward head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. The anguish in the air is palpable and he wills her to keep silent for once.
He just needs a few....
His radio squawks in his ear.
"Shit." He says angrily and throws it away. Beckett on the warpath. A few more minutes go by and then suddenly Dr.Heightmeyer taps her radio.
"Colonel? May I? It'll go to city wide if we don't respond. You can rest here, I can put him off if you want."
He sighs deeply. Better go and get it over with. He's mostly gathered himself together.
"Tell him I'll be there in a minute." But he doesn't move as she talks to Beckett.
She walks over and picks up his radio, handing it to him as he finally stands up, and groans slightly with backache and the adrenaline crash.
"Colonel! Your hands are like ice!" he feels her hands on his arm "You're soaking wet!"
"It was raining," he replies as he goes out of the door.
0o0
Two days later
John's confined to his room feeling rotten. It's just a head cold after all, nothing serious. He hates this lethargy, the runny nose and the blocked nose and the sinus headaches. Guess he should have gone straight to the infirmary after rescuing Lorne's team two days ago. Mind you even Rodney hasn't found a cure for the common cold yet. He grins into his pillow as he shifts trying to find a cool patch. At least he's catching up on some much needed sleep.
He groggily comes awake sometime later when someone gently shakes an ankle. He looks up to find his team watching him. Scowling he croaks "Wad id this? A gallery?" He sneezes and Rodney steps back.
"I have brought you a hot drink remedy, " soothes Teyla.
"Oh, 'kay," he replies still befuddled. "You sure you wand to be here? You bight ged id..."
"Would you rather struggle on your own?" Ronon asks knowingly.
His team know him too well. He would but they won't let him. Besides it's only for a day or two. He can give them that.
Part Two
John’s a rational level headed kind of guy….most of the time, but the long, in depth and very expensive training the Air Force and SGC provides does not prepare you for any of the weird crappy, sheer what the hell of the Pegasus Galaxy.
It’s been stressful recently to say the least. Ronon hallucinating Wraith today is small beer. John had been up close and personal with one and lived to tell the tale. Heck they’d broken out of prison together and ended up as ‘brothers'. How messed up is that? Then they’d dealt with Rodney’s sister and all the sibling angst that came with it together with an alternate universe version of McKay called Rod. That Rodney had had to deplete their only ZPM, much to Elizabeth’s dismay, was the icing on the cake. John almost felt he had the right to feel a little out of sorts, because what if Hive ships appeared, or some rogue faction of the Genii? But at least Rod was returned safely and no-one destroyed a universe.
And today? Well, he doesn’t have words for it at present. He can’t think about the report and letters he’ll have to write later, let alone the debrief. He’s too edgy.
There’s time on his hands while they wait for the Daedalus to arrive. Ronon’s fit enough to keep guard. When he’s absolutely sure everyone’s really okay and not going crazy and seeing things or dying, John sets off into the forest while it’s still light. He doesn’t want to leave Carson and the others on their own for too long-just in case and he has to check back in with Weir in half an hour.
Damn the sneaky Wraith and the Genii meddling with things! He’s lost six men today. He’s buzzing with excess adrenaline and anger and guilt. The crash when it comes will be nasty, but he pushes it away until he’s back in Atlantis. Focus. Got things to do.
He finds the place where Major Leonard’s remains are, out in the boonies near the bivouac they’d sheltered in. He told Teyla he’d get the dog tags and he keeps his promises. The blast site is not pretty. Insects buzz and there’s a nasty smell. Swallowing hard and breathing through his mouth, he switches off his human heart and searches.
He remembers the defiant look on the Major's face as he pulled the pin out of the grenade and held it close. Dammit. In any other situation it would have been heroic. It's not a good way to go. He'll make sure the records explain why they shouldn't be tainted by friendly fire and suicide labels, although technically it's the truth. At the same time, the machine made them do it. It would be difficult for families to understand the nuances. His head reels thinking about it. Ronon and he had almost...as if he didn't already have a black mark on his service jacket.
Stop it.
He'd casevaced wounded in Afghanistan and seen the aftermath of IED's. He's never been there when someone....not that close before, and the last time it had been that marooned Wraith that Lorne blew up with a drone.
Don’t over- think what you’re looking at. This was different, a fellow officer.
His back aches as he crouches on the ground, a combination of being blasted forwards, dragging Teyla around in his delusion, and running around the forest trying not to get killed.
He’s lucky after several minutes of careful searching; he finds the dog tags and puts them in one of his tac vest pockets. He lays a few glow sticks to mark the site for the retrieval team and hopefully put off any scavenging wildlife, and leaves.
He gets back to where his team and Kagan have settled for the night. Just in time for the check in. He winces every time Rodney mutters ‘you shot me!” as he talks to Elizabeth. They can manage with their supplies until Colonel Caldwell turns up.
He’s fine, really he is, until Teyla tentatively asks him if he got Captain Holland to safety.
“No,” he says after a moment and gets up to avoid any more questions. It brings back such a bleak time for him, that he can hardly breathe.
He fetches a blanket for Teyla who looks a little weary; he passes one out to Beckett for Rodney. Rodney won’t want to talk to him. How many times does he have to say he’s sorry? Ronon just looks at him daring him to say anything. He’s wearing a spare Atlantis jacket as the evening draws in and he looks, to John’s eyes, odd- out of place. Almost as odd as suddenly wearing desert camos...
Everyone is alive, warm and not crazy or dying and in the silence he lights the camp fire and rummages in a pack for MRE’s.
It’s a huge sigh of relief when the Daedalus contacts them four long hours later. John liaises with them for the soldier dead retrieval team so he arrives late to sick bay. He expects Dr Biro's PM's on Atlantis to confirm the video and witness evidence on M1B-129. It doesn't make it any easier.
He tries to brush off the Daedalus medic. He’s fine really, and the blood’s not his- it's Major Leonard's and Teyla's. Unfortunately, there's a flurry when they hear about the blast and he idly mentions the slight ringing in his ears that worried him as they were waiting to be picked up. He relaxes when they confirm that it will probably ease of its own accord but he needs to tell someone if the pain gets worse over the next 24 hours.
Beckett’s tied up with his own story and explaining about the injured team members and his own terrifying experience. John stays long enough to know that Rodney, Ronon, Teyla and Kagan are stable until they get back, no complications arising. Then he heads for the bridge to thank Caldwell and report. Caldwell promptly boots him off the bridge, telling him to stand down for the short trip back. The fact that he's still dirt smudged and wearing his unzipped tac vest may have something to do with that.
How can he rest knowing he shot most of his team and relived one of the worst defining moments of his career? He spends the time pacing up and down in his allocated cabin unable to start a report or any letters then walking round the ship. He leaves the others alone, figuring that they all need time and space to process what happened today.
0o0
Atlantis welcomes him like always, a tingling caress over his tired body. He’s glad to be back home. He knows Beckett and the injured will prefer Atlantis's infirmary amongst friends, no disrespect intended to the Daedalus. They'll relax and heal quicker. The Daedalus beams them directly to the infirmary, mostly for Kagan and Rodney's injuries.
Kagan, Rodney and Teyla are wheeled away for surgery, and Ronon and John wait. Beckett's also having a post mission check and fussing because for once he's the patient. It doesn't stop him from reading over Ronon and John's charts sent over from the Daedalus.
"What's this about your ears?" Beckett rounds on him, his accent strengthening as his anger increases. "How'm I 'sposed to help you when you dinnae tell me!"
"You were busy. I wasn't dying. Besides it's almost worn off," John tells him as Dr Weir comes in to get the latest reports. He walks over to greet her.
"I'm sorry about Major Leonard's team. I expect there'll be the usual service?" she says, her face sad.
"Um , yes. I'll liaise with Dr Biro, when she's finished and then we can let everyone know when and where- tomorrow maybe. The Daedalus said they'd wait and take them back when we're ready. "
"I'll expect reports when you can. For now clean up and get some rest," she urges and moves on to talk to the medical teams.
0o0
In the days that follow Ronon leaves him be. Rodney’s still a little skittish after the whole ‘you shot me!’ thing and staying in his room resting with several laptops. John did say he was sorry and he means it, but it’s all he can offer. Beckett’s still upset with himself, too. And over compensating. Keeping people in for longer and double- checking himself. Teyla is moving about well and doing PT. Thank goodness she was able to get him to pull the cable from the core. He's glad he didn't injure her further, dragging her about the forest like that.
And John? He’s fine. Absolutely fine. Always is, always will be. No fuss, no attention grabbing. Dad would be proud. But he won’t be fine if people - namely Teyla and Dr Beckett - don’t stop asking him, because he will have gotten rid of them where nobody can find them.
So maybe he isn't getting a good eight hours of quality sleep at night. Who is? The extra time on the range is time well spent, filling Wraith shaped pieces of paper with big accurate holes. The longer runs with Ronon are good for him, builds up his stamina. If he sleeps at all, it's because he's exhausted his body so he can't re-live the pain of being fed on or seeing Major Leonard pull the pin. And if it's not that, he has lovely nightmares where he did shoot all of his team under the influence of the machine.
John's also called out several times to help Radek since Rodney finds walking about painful and things are still a little awkward between them. Atlantis is suffering another spate of glitches and wobbles. Rodney could probably talk them through some of it and get it done quicker but John doesn't want to bother him. He needs to heal. Besides he likes Radek's quiet muttering in English and Czech and his sly humour, and it gives him something to do at 2am. And at 4am...
0o0
Off world four weeks later.
It's raining hard and bitterly cold and Lorne's voice is tight in his ear. "Wraith!" John runs towards the sound of the stuttered P90 rounds, confident that Ronon and Teyla are with Rodney and the others mopping up.
He arrives in time to see the long white- haired Wraith gripping Lorne's hand with the gun still in it, crushing it. Lorne's yelling and wrestling and trying to stab at its feeding hand with his KaBar knife in the other. The Wraith bashes him hard in the face with his own gun. Stunned, Lorne drops to the muddy ground. The Wraith bends down, feeding hand stretched out.
John literally sees red and fires bullets into it, yelling "No!" as he does so. The Wraith jerks and growls, spinning round to face the new threat. Lorne's still lying sprawled on the ground.
He knows it's fed recently because it’s not bloody damn bastard dying… his gun clicks empty and without losing a beat he swipes hard at the Wraith’s head with the P90 stock as hard as he can.
"See how you like it, ugly!"
The Wraith stumbles a step or two backwards in surprise. Flicking a glance at Lorne, he sees his eyes blinking. One hand twitches towards the gun in his holster.
The Wraith roars and back hands John away propelling him backwards into a tree. John rallies and launches himself at the Wraith who has turned back to Lorne. He runs at the Wraith gathering his arms about its torso to tackle and get it face down. There's a pleasing crunch and thud to the ground. The Wraith bucks and flings a hand out behind him. John hangs on, grabs and stabs its feeding hand into the wet earth with his knife. There's a gunshot and the Wraith finally goes still. John looks up to see a shaky Lorne holding out his nine mil before slumping back down and groaning.
John pulls the knife out and dispatches the Wraith with a crisp slice to the neck. Just in case. Although he's pretty certain Lorne's head shot did the trick- it makes him feel better. Sweaty, bruised and bloody he’s panting for breath still crouched over the body when he hears something.
Rustling, the wet slap of feet slipping, a muffled curse. Bloodied knife ready to throw, all tense and battle drenched he whirls round to confront whatever it is. Rodney white shocked face, mouth open in an O of surprise stares back at him.
"Gimme your spare ammo!" he orders and Rodney clumsily rips open a pocket for the block and throws it at him. John catches it and slaps it into his P90.
“Sheppard?”
John dismisses his query with a frown, sheathes his knife and goes over to check on Lorne. He'll deal with why Rodney's out here on his own later.
“How ya doin,’ Major?”
“Headache, fine in a bit.” John digs in his vest for gauze to mop up the blood and tilts his head to check his eyes. He sticks a few butterfly strips to hold the cut until they get back. Lorne swallows hard, obviously struggling with nausea, but at least his pupils are evenly dilated. They know Beckett will do a more intensive check back at base. Not a severe concussion but painful and uncomfortable even so.
"Did we get 'em all?" Lorne asks "Because he's busted my right hand, too."
"Yeah, I hope so. Jeez." John stares at Lorne's bruised and swollen digits. Reaching into another pocket, he unfolds a square and ties a sling round Lorne's neck and helps him tuck the damaged hand inside. Lorne fumbles in a pocket for some pain relief tablets takes a gulp of water from the canteen John holds out and recaps.
He clicks his radio “ Access to the Gate cleared?”
Teyla and Ronon confirm the rout of the Wraith and clear access.
“Head for the jumper immediately just in case. I’ve got Lorne and McKay. Be with you in a few minutes.” He turns to Rodney.
" Help me with Lorne and let's go!"
"Is he okay? The Wraith didn't...?" Rodney asks.He reaches down for an arm as John picks up Lorne's other weapon and knife.
"No. I got there in time."
"Yeah, I saw." grunts Rodney as they lever Lorne upright and stagger off back towards the rest of the team and the jumpers. Rodney doesn't bitch once about hefting Lorne. John tries not to worry too much about a non-verbal McKay.
Lorne insists on flying back with the other two members of his team. Sgt. Harris takes over the flying duties and Lt. Baker is a medic. Lt .Wayne Jennings rests in the black body bag on the bench seat. John understands.
He concentrates on the comforting hum of the jumper around him and the mental routine as he flies his team home and follows Lorne in Jumper 4. No-one says much; they're all just glad to be alive. They're bruised and battered and he's soaked to the skin, muddy, chilled and saddened by another soldier dead. Rodney is quiet,and maybe it was too soon after the thing with Major Leonard's team.
They arrive at the jumper bay and Ronon, Teyla and Rodney file out before him, picking up weaponry and jackets as they go. Lorne's team is on their way to the infirmary, and as he thinks about the questions that Beckett will ask him and he wonders what Rodney saw or thinks he saw in John's face as he almost killed the Wraith with his bare hands.
Suddenly, he can't go there, do that. Not yet. He needs...something. He gets into the transporter with the others, beginning to feel trapped in a small space. He has to get out. His heart speeds up, the smell of the Wraith blood on his hands and clothes...
The doors open and he lets them get out first, turning right to the infirmary. He waits for a second before exiting and goes in the opposite direction.
Ronon turns around "Sheppard?"
"I'll be along in a minute." Ronon looks at him trying to work out what's up but gives him a short nod.
He strides out almost running. He slips into a room and sits in the dark and waits for the shakes to start. He's tired, adrenaline-drained and scared by his visceral reaction to seeing a Wraith again. You're alive, you didn't die. Your team made it back, so did Lorne's .
Except for Lt Jennings, a darker voice in his head whispers.. Fed on by the Wraith He shivers violently and hunches forward, wrapping his arm around himself.
Dammit.
Pull yourself together! He can almost hear his father's sharp voice.
He was over this! That makes him sit up and lean against the back of the comfy chair he's in.
He been trying to stuff the whole being fed by a Wraith and almost dying, into a locked box in his memories, but it keeps popping open, keeping him awake many nights. The pain of it, the hunger in Todd's eyes as he did it, the fact that Weir and his team had to watch it only made him feel- not embarrassed exactly but unwilling voyeurs. He hadn't wanted to scream, to seem weak. He told himself that he had screamed in defiance.
But he'd got over it. Gradually people (mostly Rodney) stopped telling him he looked younger than before, Ronon really helped with the heavy- duty sparring sessions as he worked through his "issues". Teyla for once seemed unsure of this new knowledge of Wraith abilities. Giving so much life force back seemed wrong, unheard of. Almost like a reward, like worshippers. He wasn't that.
He meant what he said about ever seeing that Wraith again. But there was still the devil on this shoulders whispering- you deserve this. You woke them up early in the first place. It's your fault you've lost men, and whole communities and planets have been culled.
Dammit.
Then the whole thing with the leftovers from the Arcturus Project and the exotic particles happened. He'd seen enough TV and read enough to think about the idea of alternate universes, but to interact with Rod was beyond weird. Rodney and his sister, he'd helped to make her see that Rodney did care, that he'd changed, that it wasn't too late. Too bad he couldn't feel the same about his own family.
And it got him thinking too hard again. What if he'd never made it to Atlantis- turned General O'Neill down? What if he'd been discharged from the Air Force and gone surfing instead? What if he'd never joined the USAF and raced cars? Maybe in one universe his mom would still be alive...Holland too...
0o0
There's a noise at the door and it slides open to reveal Dr Heightmeyer standing in the doorway. Her office is mostly shades of dark and shadow, only a thin strip of light spilling in from the corridor before the door shuts. He watches silently as she fumbles for the light panel, and it flares briefly before dimming.
She taps it again, but it barely comes on. She sighs and walks to her desk anyway.
"Atlantis let's me do whatever I want," John says in the dark, making her jump and banging a knee into the corner of a drawer.
"W... What?"
"It's more of a how and why actually. Genetics, doctor," he drawls.
"Colonel Sheppard?" she asks
"The one and only."
"Why...?"
"Am I here? Why are you here. Why'd you sign on, doc? Letters from home, someone and someplace to go back to? Family? Respect? Why are any of us here?"
He can see that she's off guard. In the gloom her eyes are slowly adjusting trying to look at him.
He knows the shadows accentuate his dark hair and planes of his face all angular. He knows he's sweaty and dirty and he's still wearing his off- world tac vest and P90. Overlaying the jasmine she uses in the room is a faint tang of sweat and blood, mud and grass. Wraith blood and some of Lorne's.
He can almost see her thinking Why is he here? In the dark. Alone.
She raises her hand up to her earpiece, but she doesn't call anyone and she drops her hand and waits.
"I'm fine. I'm going for my post mission check-up soon enough. Don't bother Carson just yet, please," he asks.
"Alright. All the times you're supposed to see me and make excuses and now you're sitting in the dark half- scaring me? I'm beginning to feel unloved."
" Hey, I just needed a time out for a little bit. Somewhere they won't find me, poke me, nag me, ask questions. Just five minutes peace."
"Tough day, Colonel?"
"Don't crawl inside my head, not yet," he growls. " I need to think... got a letter to write..."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh. Those kinds of letters."
"Not the first time you've had to do them, " she acknowledges.
"Doesn't make it any easier," he replies.
"No, of course not."
"Then why say it doctor? Especially when they have to die and it's all... and I don't know if....."
He's upset, angry and slightly unravelled.
"How did they...um.?"
"Wraith," he says bitterly and then shudders.
"Why didn't he listen?" he asks despairingly. There's a slight rustle as he leans forward head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. The anguish in the air is palpable and he wills her to keep silent for once.
He just needs a few....
His radio squawks in his ear.
"Shit." He says angrily and throws it away. Beckett on the warpath. A few more minutes go by and then suddenly Dr.Heightmeyer taps her radio.
"Colonel? May I? It'll go to city wide if we don't respond. You can rest here, I can put him off if you want."
He sighs deeply. Better go and get it over with. He's mostly gathered himself together.
"Tell him I'll be there in a minute." But he doesn't move as she talks to Beckett.
She walks over and picks up his radio, handing it to him as he finally stands up, and groans slightly with backache and the adrenaline crash.
"Colonel! Your hands are like ice!" he feels her hands on his arm "You're soaking wet!"
"It was raining," he replies as he goes out of the door.
0o0
Two days later
John's confined to his room feeling rotten. It's just a head cold after all, nothing serious. He hates this lethargy, the runny nose and the blocked nose and the sinus headaches. Guess he should have gone straight to the infirmary after rescuing Lorne's team two days ago. Mind you even Rodney hasn't found a cure for the common cold yet. He grins into his pillow as he shifts trying to find a cool patch. At least he's catching up on some much needed sleep.
He groggily comes awake sometime later when someone gently shakes an ankle. He looks up to find his team watching him. Scowling he croaks "Wad id this? A gallery?" He sneezes and Rodney steps back.
"I have brought you a hot drink remedy, " soothes Teyla.
"Oh, 'kay," he replies still befuddled. "You sure you wand to be here? You bight ged id..."
"Would you rather struggle on your own?" Ronon asks knowingly.
His team know him too well. He would but they won't let him. Besides it's only for a day or two. He can give them that.
Part Two