And The Mountain Will Go
By EchoTango
Patrick Sheppard closed his eyes even before the nurse left the room, giving him a reassuring pat on the arm. He was so bone deep tired. David had been to visit almost every day and when he was unable to get away, Emma had taken his place.
He knew that he was in bad shape by the look in their eyes, by the tight expression on their faces, and the forced cheerfulness in which they spoke to him. He wished he could say that he had lived a full life with no regrets. At sixty-three, he was so far from that full life that at times he felt like laughing with self-derision.
The regrets, when he was honest, thankfully were few and involved his sons. He wished he had given David more autonomy in the company; given him more leeway to follow his interests. David was free to do whatever he wanted now. If he survived this, he planned to hand everything over to his elder son with his full support and blessings.
There was much to lament regarding his younger son. He had made too many mistakes to hope for redemption this late in the game. With a clarity that came to those who faced death, he realized that he had failed to give John the respect he deserved. Not only had he disparaged his career choices, but he had also failed to appreciate the kind of man, which John aspired to be; the kind of person that he was.
He had followed John's military career as best he could and when he had learned that John faced disciplinary action, he had used his considerable influence to get John the legal advice that he needed. They had fought and won.
Patrick had honestly thought that John would finally take his place beside his brother in the company. Instead, John had accepted a position with the FBI. There had been a fight and harsh words on both sides. He hadn't seen or spoken to John since.
Of all the regrets and failures in his life, his failure to reach out to his youngest son since then was the one that hurt the most. He had always believed that everyone deserved a second chance. As he struggled to breathe, he mused that entitlement had little meaning to a man left with no options.
~*~
"How come I don't get to wear a white coat?"
"Because it was my idea."
"I don't see why we couldn't both wear coats. I hate scrubs."
"Too many white coats would be suspicious."
"How did you convince Hermiod to do this anyways?"
"Maybe he just likes me."
"Yeah, right. You both can't be in the same room before you both start snarling at each other."
"Asgaard don't snarl. They don't do much of anything actually."
"OK then, they blink more rapidly than normal, and you, I have definitely heard you snarl."
"So what's wrong with that? Besides, look who's talking. At least I don't start twitching if he gets too close."
"Can I help it if I find the lack of certain parts disconcerting? So what did you do, bribe or threaten?"
"Neither. I just pointed out what a marvelous opportunity this was to screw around with General O'Neill."
"Ah, the power of revenge."
"Yeah, well, if the Asgaard ever show their faces in this reality at least O'Neill will know enough not to shoot first."
"Hey, the lab is down this way."
"Oh please, as if this backward, hide-bound, close-minded excuse for an administration would have anything I'd want."
"This way, Sheppard. Well, come on, don't dawdle, we don't have all night."
"McKay, I'm not taking another step until you tell me what's going on."
"Well, it's a good thing we've arrived then. It's right here," Rodney told him as he gestured towards the private room.
John gave Rodney a suspicious glare as he cautiously opened the door and went in, the wraith stunner he carried hidden by the blanket draped over his arm. John had reluctantly agreed to leave his sidearm behind on the Daedalus, knowing that Hermiod would transport them out of there at the first sign of trouble.
A single bed dominated the room. Its occupant, white haired and grey faced, slept fitfully. He looked oddly familiar. John inhaled sharply as recognition hit him hard.
"Dad?" he whispered. His throat was closing up on him, making him light-headed and a little dizzy. A million swirling thoughts threatened to overwhelm him. He barely noticed Rodney lead him to the chair next to the bed; old memories, lost opportunities, regrets.
"Rodney, I appreciate the effort, but I don't think talking will help."
John was honest enough to admit, if only to himself, that even if this were his father, his reality, he still would be at a loss for words.
"Don't be an idiot Sheppard, of course not."
John had never been good at talking about his feelings. He didn't talk; he acted and Rodney knew this. John gave Rodney a narrow-eyed glare. "Then tell me, oh mighty one, what are we doing here?"
Rodney let out a long sigh, the kind he usually reserved for the minions when he was in a generous mood. "It may be too late for you, Colonel, but not for Agent Sheppard," he explained patiently. "At least one of you deserves a second chance, don't you think? If it can't be you I'll certainly settle for your alternate reality counterpart."
The John Sheppard on this world had also suffered through his version of Afghanistan and had disobeyed a direct order to save a member of his unit. The big difference in John's opinion was that he had succeeded. Holland was married with two children and living in Milwaukee.
Add to that was the fact that he hadn't stayed in the Air Force and hadn't gone to Antarctica and subsequently been recruited by the SGC. More pertinent to their current discussion was that after spending several years as an FBI agent in the special victims unit he had gone to ground. He had taken an extended leave of absence and essentially disappeared; something about a serial killer who had targeted children. John hadn't asked because he didn't want to know.
Whether General O'Neill managed to find and recruit him was not his concern. In less than 24 hours, the hyper-drive engines would have been repaired and they would be returning through the rapidly shrinking ionic rift that had catapulted the Daedalus into an alternate reality.
"It's kind of hard for him to make peace with his Dad if he's not here McKay," John said, keeping his voice low and quiet as they both had since entering the room.
"Ah, but he won't be coming to the mountain. The mountain will go visit him or something like that," Rodney told him as he pulled out a syringe and several small vials from his lab coat pocket.
"McKay, what do you think you're doing?" John hissed, as Rodney proceeded to inject the various liquids into the I.V. port.
"Oh, just something Hermiod whipped up to oh, I don't know, save your father's life. Nothing like advanced alien technology to conjure up a miracle cure."
It was right on the tip of his tongue; 'He's not my father'. He found he couldn't say it.
"Won't that, you know, change the time-line or something?"
"We didn't travel back in time, only into a parallel universe, so no, no changing of time-lines here."
"That's it? That's your plan? What makes you think that anything will change?" John asked Rodney in a resigned tone, as he got up from the chair and started for the door. He needed some air. "They'll just go that many more years before speaking to each other."
John stopped just short of the door and then inhaled deeply as Rodney approached and gently placed his hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, John."
They both froze as someone behind them cleared their throat and quietly coughed.
"That, gentlemen, is one mistake I will never repeat. Who's Hermiod?"
~*~
Patrick gripped the steering wheel of the rental car tightly as he watched John gracefully dismount from the battered old pick-up truck and enter the coffee shop. It had taken him several months but he had finally tracked down his elusive son.
He knew that the SGC had been looking too. Dr McKay and Colonel Sheppard, after an initial reluctance, had been surprisingly candid. It had been something the Colonel had said that had turned his attention towards Montana. While General O'Neill's team scoured the beaches and surf spots of California and Mexico, he had investigated the horse ranches and rock climbing opportunities in or near Yellowstone Park.
He took a deep breath, walked into the coffee shop, and scanned the dimly lit interior. He saw John in the far corner, his head down as he read the morning paper, a coffee cup close to hand.
He had been given a unique gift, a chance to make amends and fix his mistakes. This time round there would be no regrets.