Disappointment.
This was written for the Sheppard H/C comm challenge, 'Death of a family member'. Thanks to Kodiak for her beta skills.
John stood casually next to Elizabeth, waiting for Colonel Caldwell to join them from the newly docked Daedalus.
"Dr. Weir, Colonel Sheppard," Caldwell greeted the two leaders of Atlantis formally.
"Welcome back, Sir," Sheppard answered politely.
Weir nodded as the three started to walk down the corridor, heading towards the briefing room.
"It's good to have you back, Colonel. I trust your journey was uneventful?"
Caldwell smiled at Atlantis' leader.
"Yes, thank you. Can we postpone our meeting until oh nine hundred hours? I need to speak to Colonel Sheppard." Caldwell looked at John's face, and Sheppard suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "In private."
Weir looked anxiously from John to Caldwell.
"Of course. Use the briefing room."
"Colonel?" Caldwell walked towards the room, not looking back.
John shrugged his shoulders lazily.
"Wonder what I've done now? He doesn't look too happy, does he?" he asked in a resigned voice.
John entered the briefing room, and stood stiffly, hands behind his back.
"Colonel? At ease. I was asked to give this to you." Caldwell reached inside his flightsuit pocket, and held out a slightly crumpled envelope. "You have my condolences. In the circumstances, I think Dr. Weir will excuse you from the briefing."
Caldwell, nodded and walked out of the briefing room, shutting the door behind him.
John looked at the official looking envelope, and opened it carefully. He read the enclosed letter's contents quickly, and stuffed it into his jacket pocket before exiting the room.
Weir was waiting outside for her military leader, and put out a comforting hand on his arm as he went to walk past her.
"John?" Sheppard stopped, and turned around to face Elizabeth. "I'm so sorry. Colonel Caldwell told me what was in the letter. Take as much time as you need to…to sort yourself out. I'll cancel all your appointments for today, and the mission to J8P-136 can be put on hold…"
John's face remained impassive throughout Elizabeth's compassionate words.
"That won't be necessary. I plan to carry on as normal," he explained neutrally.
Weir's face grew concerned.
"John. You've just lost your father, and I think you should take some time off. Surely you'll want to head back to Earth for the memorial service? I'm sure General Landry would allow you to 'gate back to Earth…"
John's face looked momentarily pained, but as quickly as his usual neutral façade had slipped, so it returned.
"As I said, that won't be necessary. My father's already been interred at Arlington, and I don't feel the need to go all that way just to go put flowers on his grave. So…if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
Sheppard turned around and briskly walked away, and Weir was left watching him leave, chewing away at her lip in concern. She had known John was estranged from his father, but they'd never discussed the situation. His reaction to the sad news worried Weir. John was good at hiding his emotions from the outside world, only rarely letting anything break through his controlled exterior. It wasn't often somebody got to see what really lay underneath the enigma that was John Sheppard. Yet, if he wanted to continue as normal, well, many people preferred to cope that way, she knew that from experience. Elizabeth made a resolution to chat with John later, but not to interfere with his wishes.
-oOo-
John flopped on his bed, and reached into his pocket to pull out the battered letter and envelope. He opened the letter and re-read it, then screwed the paper into a ball, and threw it in the waste bin by his desk. Dead? That was it? After all these years, he'd just died? No letter of forgiveness, or attempted reconciliation? The letter had said his father had died after a long battle with cancer. So, he'd known he was dying, but still hadn't tried to contact his only son? He'd been buried without his son at his funeral, as per his wishes, the letter had said. General David Sheppard had left his assets to various charities, and hadn't wanted his son to even be informed of his death. General Landry felt John should know though, and had told him as much in the now discarded note.
Sitting back up, John exhaled and then stood. Well, that was that, wasn't it? He thought bitterly. His father had won again. John had figured he was past any emotional hurt his father could heap on him – but yet again he was wrong. Steeling himself, John straightened his clothes, and headed out of his quarters towards the briefing.
-oOo-
John should have been prepared for the reaction of everyone in the briefing room, but he wasn't. As he entered, the first look on everyone's face was shock, swiftly followed by embarrassment, and rounded off by sympathetic smiles.
"John? It's really not necessary for you to be here…" Elizabeth began.
"I think I'm the best person to judge whether I should be here or not. As I explained earlier; life goes on."
John sat in the nearest chair and looked down at his hands, fervently trying to keep his emotions in check. He felt mixed up, confused and angry. Perhaps Elizabeth was right, he shouldn't attend the briefing. Maybe he did need some time by himself to figure things out? No. That's what his father would have wanted – to screw his life up further. Brushing aside his emotions, and concentrating on the here and now, that was the logical course of action.
Looking up, John inwardly flinched as everyone suddenly looked away.
"Okay. My father's dead. I know you're all sorry. I'm not. Before you ask, yes, I'm fine. Can we get on with the briefing now?" John closed his eyes momentarily as he heard his own, brusque words. Opening them, he smiled tentatively. "Sorry, that didn't quite come out how I intended," he apologised.
Elizabeth reached towards John, her arm out-stretched. His reaction to recoil from her reassuring touch surprised him. He just couldn't deal with too much sympathy at that moment. He knew he needed to detach himself from his feelings, then he'd be able to get through everything.
"That's quite all right. Shall we start now?" Weir asked, not waiting for affirmation from those present as she started the briefing.
John listened to Caldwell's news and reports from Earth with indifference. He nodded, and commented when it was required of him, and to those in the room he appeared impressively composed.
"Thank you, Colonel. Rodney? Do you want to say anything about your proposed mission to…" Weir looked on the table and shuffled papers until she found what she was looking for. Opening the folder, she scanned the first page of notes. "To… J8P-136?"
McKay's monologue into the merits of the planet he hoped to find a ZPM on passed John by. He sat motionless, yet numb, Rodney's words blurring into meaningless drivel.
"So, we know there is an indigenous population that is not particularly, er, friendly, but Teyla believes it'll be possible to avoid them and get to the temple without them knowing. They're a pretty primitive people, and won't even know the ZPM is there – if, in fact, it is."
"Do you have a problem with any of this, John?" Weir asked.
Sheppard didn't answer, and continued to stare into space.
"John?" Weir repeated a little more loudly.
Sheppard jerked as he was brought back to the present.
"Sorry. What was that?" he asked, flushing in embarrassment at being caught day dreaming.
"I asked if you have any problems with the mission?" Weir asked again.
John shrugged casually.
"Nope. Sounds good to me." Turning to his team, he nodded, and looked down at his watch. "Ok, we head out in thirty-five minutes."
Weir stood.
"Well, I think that's everything. I'll see you on departure. Colonel Caldwell? I believe you have some other matters to discuss with me?" Caldwell nodded. "Okay. If you'll excuse us?" She asked Sheppard and his team, who dutifully left the room quickly.
Weir cleared her throat.
"Colonel? I'd like your opinion on whether Colonel Sheppard is fit to lead the mission today?"
Caldwell shrugged.
"He seemed fine to me. He's military, and used to dealing with death. By all accounts, he wasn't on good terms with his father- hadn't had any contact with him for five years or so. I'm sure he's fine," he answered coolly.
Weir nodded, and smiled politely.
"Thank you, Colonel. So, what news is there from Stargate Command?"
As Elizabeth listened to Caldwell's words, she felt her mind focusing on John. She had a horrible feeling he was going to crash at some time, and she just hoped everyone would be around to help him when that happened.
-oOo-
Two hours later, and Atlantis' flagship team was traversing the rocky terrain on J8P-136 in search of the ubiquitously elusive ZPM. John had been unusually quiet and withdrawn, answering questions only in monosyllables, and not joking and sniping with Rodney as he usually did. His introspection hadn't gone unnoticed.
"Look, I…I'm sorry about your father, Sheppard." Rodney's voice was uncharacteristically soft.
Sheppard snorted.
"Don't be. I'm not," he replied coldly, as he walked on, willing himself to keep his emotions tightly reined in.
"You sure you're okay? You seem a bit…distant. Perhaps we'd better head back. You obviously need some time to come to terms with things…" Rodney's voice permeated John's distracted brain.
"I don't need time for anything. I haven't spoken to my father for years. I was an incredible disappointment to him, and he made sure I always knew that. I appreciate what you're trying to do here – but, believe me, I really don't care that he's dead. That's one thing he and I had in common, we disliked each other intensely. So, though your concern is noted, it's not necessary. So let's drop it, shall we?"
McKay's face hardened as irritation made itself known.
"Well, forgive me for trying to be compassionate here!" Rodney took a deep breath, and lowered his voice, as he struggled to control his anger. "Look. Nobody hated his father more than I did, Sheppard, but when he died it hit me much harder than I'd ever imagined." Rodney chewed his lip as he considered his words. "You say you feel nothing? I don't believe you. It's just the Sheppard mask covering what you're feeling again." Rodney stood in front of Sheppard and looked him in the eye. "Your father's dead. You do feel something, I can see it in your eyes. You shouldn't have come here today, you're distracted and off your game, as you would say, and therefore not fit to lead this mission."
"Don't question my ability to perform my duties," Sheppard said with cold determination. "I'm not you."
John stomped away, as Rodney stood open-mouthed.
"Rodney? I know you are trying to help, but I think it is best to leave Colonel Sheppard alone. He wants to continue as normal, and we should respect that."
"He's not fit to be here, Teyla, and you know it."
"It is not my place to question the colonel. He does appear a little…distracted, but, we will watch after him."
"Fine. Don't blame me when everything goes to hell. I'll be there saying I told you so," McKay warned.
Teyla raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sure you will," came Ronon's gruff reply. "You're not exactly the type to keep quiet, are you?"
McKay chose to ignore the Satedan's comments, and strolled after Sheppard, muttering under his breath, LSD at the ready.
-oOo-
The rocky terrain was proving hard work for Sheppard to traverse, especially as he couldn't seem to concentrate on where he was stepping. He'd stumbled twice on loose rock. Once, falling and grazing his elbow, and another time twisting his ankle; though thankfully no lasting damage had been done.
Throughout all of it, McKay had shot daggers at John. The physicist had tutted both times he'd lost his footing, and John had noticed the knowing looks thrown in Teyla and Ronon's directions.
John wandered forward listlessly, his mind returning periodically to painful thoughts about his father. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't disassociate himself from his confused feelings. Sheppard was uncharacteristically distracted as he stepped on a strange looking patch of rocky ground, which he absent-mindedly registered as being unusual. His normal, sharp instincts didn't kick in until it was too late, and John was surprised to hear McKay shouting at him, and turned in time to see Rodney running at him, full pelt.
Suddenly the ground opened up beneath him, and John managed a startled cry as he found himself plummeting downwards into an abyss of black, followed by a yelling McKay. John felt searing pain in his arm and chest as his body connected violently with the ground, and the last thing he saw was a motionless McKay lying on the floor next to him, blood pooling at the side of the unconscious scientist's head.
-oOo-
Returning to consciousness wasn't a pleasant experience for John. As his senses returned to him, he was assaulted by agony in his arm and torso. Breathing in shallow pants to try and quell the pain, John carefully opened his eyes, trying to remember what had happened. He'd fallen through a hole, a concealed hole, in the ground and McKay…Rodney? John's heart rate increased as he remembered seeing his friend's lifeless body on the floor of the - cave? Was that where they were?
Gingerly using his uninjured arm to try and prop himself up, John searched for his fallen comrade. Turning his head slightly to the side, McKay's form slowly came into focus.
"Rodney?" Sheppard managed to grind out. "You okay, buddy?"
"Colonel! Are you all right?"
Sheppard blinked as he realised it wasn't McKay who had answered him, but a disembodied voice from above. Teyla.
John lifted his head carefully and squinted at the bright light that permeated down through the dusty, dark cave.
"Teyla? I'm okay. McKay's injured," he answered as loudly as he could. His efforts were rewarded by a sharp pain in his chest, which caused John to cough painfully.
"Ronon has returned to the Stargate to get help. You will both be fine," Telya assured the colonel.
John knew he needed to assess Rodney's injuries. He pushed himself into a sitting position. His head swam, chest burned, and his arm felt like it was on fire. Looking down at it he soon figured out why. One of the bones had penetrated the skin, and was unceremoniously sticking out at an odd angle, with mangled flesh and copious amounts of blood mixing with dirt from the ground.
"Oh, God," John muttered to himself, as he felt his stomach rebel at what he'd just seen.
"Colonel, are you all right?" Teyla's concerned voice reverberated around the cave.
John swallowed.
"Not…really. My arm's broke. I'm gonna do what I can for it, and check on Rodney."
John knew he couldn't do much for the arm, but gently covered it with a field dressing hoping to try and limit the chance of infection, which wasn't looking good considering that the wound was already filthy. John felt for a pulse in his wrist, and grimaced when he felt a soft, irregular flutter on his fingers. Not so good, he thought to himself. Cradling his limp arm to his sore chest, John scrambled awkwardly to his knees and thought about standing.
Putting one foot beneath him, he tried to push himself up, but as a wave of dizziness assaulted him, John fell to the floor, whimpering as the ground brought fresh flares of agony to his arm and ribs.
"Okay. So standing wasn't such a good idea," he mumbled, as he got to his knees again.
Inching forward on his knees proved to be extremely painful, as sharp shards of rock dug into his knees, but John persisted until he finally found himself next to a very unconscious and extremely bloody McKay.
Reaching out with his good arm, John checked McKay's pulse, which was thankfully strong, though a little fast, and examined Rodney's body, sighing in relief when he felt no other obvious injuries. Reaching into his vest, John pulled out a field dressing and pressed it firmly into McKay's gory head wound. John could see Rodney had already lost a fair amount of blood, and knew he should check McKay's pupils. Doing that with one hand, when two were needed to hold open the eyelids and shine a flashlight simultaneously proved impossible, and John returned to putting pressure on the sluggishly bleeding scalp laceration.
"He's alive, Teyla, but out cold." John relayed the information calmly. "How long ago did Ronon leave?"
"About three hours. I asked him to request a 'jumper be used for the return journey, so I expect the rescue team will be here shortly," Telya answered hopefully.
A soft groan beneath him stole John's attention.
"Rodney? You with us?" John asked gently.
Another groan followed the first.
"My head hurts," came the almost inaudible reply.
John exhaled in relief.
"I'm not surprised, you've banged it pretty good. Just lie still. Believe me, you really don't want to move till Carson gets here," John warned.
Rodney groaned again.
"Does anything else hurt?" John asked worriedly, hoping he hadn't missed any obvious injuries.
"Just my head. This is all your fault. If you had been…." Rodney stopped mid-sentence, and John instantly knew what was coming next as the physicist turned a wonderful shade of green. Rolling Rodney carefully, being careful to support McKay's neck, one-handed, John grimaced as his friend started to gag, and promptly threw up what looked to Sheppard like a dozen power bars.
When McKay had finished heaving, John carefully returned him to his former position.
"Sorry…" Rodney gasped. "You do owe me, after all…how many times have you puked on me?" he asked, groaning as his head continued to pound.
John chuckled.
"Too many times. Don't worry about it. As you say, I owe you big time. This mess is my fault. You were right, I shouldn't have led this mission. God, I'm sorry…"
Rodney moaned again.
"Well, what's done is done. No point apportioning blame now, is there?" he ground out.
John looked worriedly at his friend.
"OK, either you're brain damaged, or where's the real Rodney McKay? No 'I told you so'? You're definitely concussed if you can't bitch at me and oddly, it makes me feel even worse. How's your vision?"
Rodney managed a small laugh.
"No, I'm not brain damaged. Besides, my brain's so superior that a few lost brain cells won't even matter. I feel like complete shit, though. Oh, and by the way, I'm seeing two of you, and believe me, it's a pretty horrific sight."
John exhaled.
"Definitely a concussion. Just stay still, Carson's on his way," he reassured McKay.
Rodney eyed the two Sheppard's suspiciously.
"You ok? You're looking like crap at the moment. What have you injured this time?"
John managed a small smile.
"Banged my chest, broke my arm. I'm good," he answered matter-of-factly.
McKay snorted, before swallowing as another wave of nausea hit him.
"I sincerely doubt that. I hate concussions…"
"I'm sorry, Rodney. There's no excuse for me being such a jerk. I guess you were right. My dad dying has screwed me up even more…" John paused and lowered his head into his good hand. "I'll make it up to you. I'm sorry…"
Rodney reached to touch John with his arm.
"Would you stop apologising. So, I've lost some brain cells, and gained a scar. Women love scars, right? You've probably done me a favour. Arrgh, okay, maybe not…" McKay swallowed again as he battled to control his nausea. "You know, I was serious when I told you how screwed up I got when my father died. Give yourself a break here. You'll get over it." Rodney paused and closed his eyes. "I really need to get some sleep, seeing two of you is not a pleasant experience."
John shook his head.
"Hey! No sleeping, McKay. Sorry, you'll just have to put up with John Sheppard and his evil twin."
A noise above him startled John.
"Colonel? The rescue team has arrived. We will be down shortly," Teyla called.
John looked up at the light above.
"Thanks, Teyla. Tell Beckett to get down here ASAP. McKay's got a concussion."
Twenty minutes later, a complaining Beckett had finally arrived at the bottom of the cave.
"How you lot do this all the bloody time, is beyond me. What have you two got yourselves into this time?" Carson muttered to himself.
"Rodney's got a pretty nasty cut on his head. He lost consciousness for about three-and-a- half-hours, has double vision and has vomited. So I'd guess he's got a moderate to severe concussion," John answered steadily.
Carson gave John a withering look.
"Thank you, Dr. Sheppard," he answered sarcastically. Turning his attention to Rodney, Carson quickly performed neurological examinations, as well as checking the rest of the physicist for injuries. "Okay. Concussion it is. Let's get a neck brace on him, and get him ready for transport." Looking down at McKay, Beckett smiled. "Don't worry, Rodney. You may well feel terrible, but you're going to be fine. Melissa is going to start an IV, and then we'll get you back to the 'jumper."
McKay winced.
"Can I have the good drugs this time?" he croaked pathetically.
Carson laughed.
"When we get back to Atlantis, and I've completed my scans…yes, I promise, the good drugs."
As Rodney was loaded onto a litter, Carson turned to Sheppard.
"Teyla said you've broken your arm?"
John nodded.
"Yeah. It's a bit of a mess," he explained in an apologetic voice.
Carson snorted.
"I'd expect nothing less from you, Colonel. Let's take a look then," he said, as he gently reached for Sheppard's cradled arm.
As Beckett removed the dressing, his face registered a look of shock.
"Bloody hell! I don't think 'I've broken my arm' quite covers this, do you?" he asked angrily. John shook his head, and hissed in pain as Beckett continued his examination of the injured limb. Carson's face suddenly showed concern, and he motioned for Teyla to approach.
"Let's lay you down, Lad. I'm not happy with the poor blood supply getting to your hand, and I need to correct the bone alignment here." Carson gestured to Teyla to help him lie John down. "Now, are there any other injuries you want to tell me about?"
Sheppard nodded.
"I think I bruised a couple of ribs. Nothing too bad though," he answered honestly.
Carson groaned, and shook his head in disbelief.
"Which probably means you've broken them. Let's have a look."
Beckett carefully unzipped Sheppard's tac vest and pulled up John's black t-shirt, palpating the severely bruised areas carefully.
"That's a yes to broken ribs. I can feel at least three, one of which is pretty unstable. Why do you insist on playing down your injuries?" he asked in an astonished voice.
John bit his lip, as he began to feel like a chastised child.
"I wasn't. I didn't think they were that bad. Sorry, Doc."
Carson sighed.
"All right, Colonel. I'm going to give you something to take the edge off the pain. I can't give you as much as I'd like, as I don't want to affect your breathing, which, thankfully is fine at the moment." Carson quickly put a cannula in John's right hand, and, after hooking up a bag of clear fluid, proceeded to inject a painkiller into the IV port. "There we go. This is going to hurt, Colonel, but the broken bone is most likely constricting a major blood vessel, and we need to resolve that now."
John nodded weakly in understanding.
"It's okay, Doc. Go ahead. I'm good."
Carson lifted John's arm and pulled it sharply. John couldn't help the scream that left his lips, as the bone moved back into its correct position. Beckett checked the pulse in John's wrist, and nodded in satisfaction. He swiftly poured iodine over the wound and wrapped it, before splinting the arm, and resting it gently back down on John's chest.
"Well done, Colonel. I know how painful that must have been. We'll get you on a litter and we'll be in the 'jumper in no time," Carson soothed.
John didn't answer as he battled the nausea that had accompanied his arm being tended to.
"Colonel, are you all right?"
John closed his eyes, still unable to answer.
"Colonel?"
Carson's voice became persistent, betraying his concern.
"Feels like I'm going to puke, Doc," John answered shakily.
John heard Carson asking Teyla to help roll him John on to his right side. A soft moan left Sheppard's lips as his arm and ribs complained at the movement. Unable to quell his nausea any longer, he inwardly groaned as he felt himself gagging.
"It is all right, John," Sheppard heard Teyla whisper, as she stroked his hair gently.
When his body had finished expelling the contents of his stomach, John was carefully rolled onto his back and gently lifted onto the waiting litter. Another soft moan left his lips as he was secured with straps across his upper chest and legs.
"Let's be careful of his chest. He's got at least one unstable rib, and the last thing we need is for it to puncture his lung," John heard Carson order sternly.
Opening his eyes slowly, Carson's face came into focus above John.
"We're going to lift you out of here now. Try and stay still, and I'll see you on the surface in a minute."
John smiled weakly, before letting his eyes close again.
"'Kay, Doc," he whispered before he drifted into a restless slumber.
-oOo-
The next thing John knew, he was lying on the floor of the 'jumper, with Carson fussing over him. He felt a tight pain in his chest, and suddenly realised breathing was proving difficult.
"I see you're back with us again. I'm going to give you some oxygen to help with your breathing. You're getting a little tired, and it'll help," Carson explained. John could tell the doctor was concerned, and knew whenever Beckett talked to anyone as if they were stupid that something was up.
"Rodney?" John whispered in between shallow, painful breaths, as he wondered if Rodney's condition had worsened.
Carson's face continued to show his worry.
"He's fine, Lad. Sleeping like a baby. I'm more worried about you at the moment. Just relax and try and breathe slowly for me," Carson instructed as he fixed the oxygen mask over Sheppard's nose and mouth. Turning away from him, John heard Carson ask Lorne how long it would be until they reached Atlantis. Sheppard didn't hear the reply, but heard Beckett remarking that it would be 'a bloody good idea to get a move on'.
John was wondering why Carson was in such a rush to get back to Atlantis, when he felt another painful spasm in his chest, resulting in an excruciatingly painful coughing fit. Sheppard tasted a slick, coppery taste in his mouth, and an overwhelming exhaustion swept over him. The last thing he heard was Carson's distressed voice calling his name….
-oOo-
Rodney groaned as the irritating brogue interrupted his comfortable, hazy world.
"G'way," he complained, as he batted annoying hands away from his eyelids.
"I will not go away, so stop whining. Open your eyes, Rodney. Answer my questions, and you can go back to sleep again," Carson explained.
McKay prised open glued together eyelids, and squinted at the bright infirmary lights.
"I've gone to hell, and you're the devil, right?" he asked Beckett sarcastically, as he tried to focus on his surroundings.
Carson snorted.
"Charming, Rodney. Answer my questions, please. Can you tell me where you are, who you are and what happened to you?"
McKay groaned and closed his eyes.
"I'm being tortured in the Scottish equivalent of Alcatraz. Seeing as how you've already called me Rodney twice, I'd hazard a guess that's my name, and as to what happened, why don't you ask Sheppard?"
McKay gingerly opened his eyes and looked around for the colonel.
"Where is he? I'd have expected him to be on guard duty after what happened. You send him back to his quarters already?" he asked curiously.
Rodney studied Carson's face, and didn't like what he saw there.
"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, instinctively knowing something had happened to John.
"Colonel Sheppard's injuries were more severe than we first thought. He's over there." Carson jerked his hand to the left of McKay, pointing to a bed with screens around it. "Before you ask, he's not in any danger any more. His arm's a right bloody mess, and he had some internal bleeding we had to sort out. His rib decided to impale itself in his left lung, but we soon had him in surgery and fixed that. He's sleeping at the moment."
Rodney's face paled.
"All the time he was looking after me, he was seriously injured himself?"
Carson sat down in the chair next to Rodney's bed.
"Pretty much. Though we were extremely careful, I think it's likely that his lung was damaged when he was moved," Beckett explained.
McKay went to nod, but thought better of it.
"Is he going to be okay?"
"He'll be fine. He'll be off active duty for a long time, though." Rodney felt a tug on his IV line. "I've finished torturing you now. You've knocked your head pretty good, but there's no sign of any bleeding inside that thick skull of yours. So, as promised, I've just given you the good drugs. Get some rest, and I'll come back and see you later."
Rodney sighed as the drugs coursed through his veins, reaching his throbbing head almost instantaneously. As sleep pulled at him, McKay suddenly thought about Sheppard. His last thought was that John had really got himself in a mess - again.
-oOo-
Consciousness returned to John as it usually did when he found himself in the infirmary – slowly and painfully. His head felt foggy and heavy; Carson obviously had him on the good drugs, as Rodney would so wonderfully put it. John was aware of an annoying nasal cannula hovering persistently under his nose, and also felt the intrusion of a catheter under the crisp white sheet that covered him. Opening his eyes, he soon saw that he was naked, and looking to his left, noticed firstly that his arm was propped up on pillows, and secondly that it had some serious metal work protruding from it. Sheppard also felt the pull of sutures in his chest and was aware of the pain he experienced every time he drew in a breath.
Turning his head to the side, he saw that Elizabeth was asleep in a chair next to his bed.
As memories started to flood into John's mind, he groaned as he remembered Rodney's bloody head staring up at him, his pale features contrasting vividly with the crimson liberally plastered over his head, face and neck.
"Rodney?" he managed to croak.
John's weak entreaty caused Weir to stir, and Sheppard saw her straighten and smile as she saw he was awake.
"Hey. How are you feeling?" Elizabeth asked warmly, as she squeezed his arm.
"Rodney?" John repeated, hoping Weir would know what he meant.
Elizabeth nodded in understanding.
"He's fine. Sleeping soundly. He has a severe concussion and 'a beastie of a scalp laceration', Carson's words, not mine," she chuckled, " but – a few days under Carson's loving care and he'll be as good as new. Unfortunately I can't say the same for you."
John grimaced.
"Sorry…screwed up," he managed to grind out.
Elizabeth's expression mirrored that of an angry schoolmistress.
"Hey. Don't go there, John. You and Rodney had an accident. You both fell into a trap of some sort. There was nothing you could've done about it. I've read Ronon and Teyla's reports and spoken to Rodney. So stop blaming yourself. What happened was out of your control," she insisted. John suspected she knew his team was being a little liberal with the truth, but she showed no signs of that in her demeanour. "I'm going to get Carson, so just hang in there for a minute," she soothed.
Several minutes later John opened his eyes to find Beckett standing over him.
"Good afternoon, Colonel. How are you feeling?"
"I'm good," he answered softly.
Carson exhaled and shook his head sadly.
"Of course you are. You're going to be with me for quite a while, I'm afraid. You've suffered a serious break to your arm. We're lucky Dr. James is here. He's a brilliant orthopaedic surgeon. As you can probably feel, your ribs are a mess, and one thought it'd be fun to annoy your lung. Everything's sorted out now, and you're progressing nicely." Carson studied John's pale features. "I'm just giving you something for the pain now," he soothed as John felt a cool numbness permeating his body. "Get some sleep, Lad."
John closed his eyes and just as he was drifting into morphine induced bliss, his father's face flashed before him. Remembering what had happened, Sheppard felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, but gave in to the pull of the powerful analgesic.
-oOo-
"Colonel? You're looking better," Rodney cheerfully called out as he approached John's bed.
Sheppard nodded enthusiastically.
"Yeah, I am. Carson said I can get out of here tomorrow – finally."
Rodney winced in sympathy.
"You must feel like a caged lion. Ten days in the infirmary would be too much even for a model patient like me."
Sheppard raised his eyebrow.
"Tell me about it. Any news?" he asked with interest. "I'm going mad with boredom. My arm's still pretty useless, and though my sutures are out of my chest, my ribs still don't like me breathing. I'm sort of an invalid at the moment."
McKay sat next to John's bed, and filled him in on the latest gossip from the lab. Sheppard sat and lapped up the information. Carson had kept everything about Atlantis' daily life well and truly away from his patient, and John craved to hear about the normality of day to day events.
After half an hour of listening to McKay's amusing recounting of life in Atlantis, John looked seriously at the scientist, and started to say something, stopping when the words wouldn't leave his mouth. He tried again, and stuttered a few times, before exhaling and looking Rodney in the eye.
"Look. Here's the thing. I feel I should apologise again for what happened. I shouldn't have been on that mission and my stupidity could've cost you you're life."
McKay sighed.
"You've apologised every single day I've visited you here. Enough already. You're forgiven, okay?"
John smiled sadly.
"Yeah, okay. I just feel like I haven't made it up to you."
"Listen, " Rodney began. "I've been thinking, and there is something you can do for me." McKay looked down at his hands. "You're much better now, and I'm heading back to Earth next week. My brilliant mind is needed for a big scientific pow wow at the SGC. Want to come with me? Carson said you can, if you'd like."
John's mouth dropped open.
"You want me to come to Earth with you?" Rodney nodded. "It's not that I'm not flattered, but, why?"
McKay nervously twiddled his thumbs.
"I thought we could go visit your father's grave."
Sheppard's face blanched.
"What?" he asked weakly.
"Look. You're not going to get over this until you've had some sort of closure. You won't talk to Kate, so I did on your behalf. Not that I needed her to tell me what to do or say, I obviously know from my own experience with my father." Rodney looked up from his fidgeting hands. "Come with me and get on with your life, Colonel."
John sat dumbfounded in his bed as he considered Rodney's request.
-oOo-
The morning was grey and overcast. A fine drizzle fell from the imposing sky, and John involuntarily shivered, as he stood alone in front of the grey slab. Small rivulets of water dripped down the dreary stone, and John thought the weather reflected his own mood quite nicely.
Sheppard didn't like dressing up smartly, but it had been appropriate to wear his dress uniform. To make matters worse, John's left arm being in a sling under his jacket made him feel even more uncomfortable, if that was possible. He'd last worn his uniform when he'd been promoted to Lt. Colonel, and he'd hoped at the time that he wouldn't be required to wear it anytime soon. As usual his hopes were dashed.
Looking at the gravestone in front of him, John sighed.
"Well, here I am, Dad. I know you didn't want me here, but I came anyway," he began falteringly. "Apparently talking to you here…now, is supposed to be cathartic for me. I'm supposed to bare my emotions to you, and tell you what's upset me so much." John snorted, and stifled a laugh. "One thing you and I both had in common was our dislike of emotional outpourings. So, I'll make this brief. I'm sorry your dead. I'm sorry I was a disappointment to you. I regret we never sorted out our issues." John turned to see Rodney waiting quietly under a nearby tree, and a small smile graced his face as he saw the physicist awkwardly adjusting the collar of his shirt. "My friends tell me I'm a good person, a loyal friend, and surprisingly enough, a good officer. Why couldn't you ever see those things in me? Why was I never good enough for you?"
John exhaled and shook his head.
"It might surprise you to know that I'm happy. I've found the nearest thing I've had to family in a long time. I'm needed, Dad. I've found somewhere I really belong. I'm sorry you weren't around to see that. I'm also sorry you never found the happiness I've got now. I don't know if I can ever forgive you for how you've made me feel about myself over the years, but I want you to know that I won't let your disappointment in me ruin my life anymore." John smiled. "If you knew the things I've seen, the things I've experienced, well, I think you'd be surprised." Sheppard looked up at the dreary sky, and then back at the headstone.
"Well, that's all I've got to say. I hope you've found the peace you deserve."
John walked away, towards McKay.
"Hey. You okay?" the concerned scientist asked.
Sheppard shook his head.
"Not really."
"Come on. We've got a few hours to kill before we head to the airport. Let me buy you a beer. None of the wishy washy American rubbish. Real, Canadian beer. What do you say?" McKay asked hopefully.
John allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch upwards.
"Sure. Why not?" he answered easily.
As the two men walked out of the cemetery, John turned round and gazed at his father's gravestone one last time.
"Goodbye Dad," he whispered, before he turned his back and walked resolutely away.
The end.