Bridge Over Troubled Water
Black.
The color filled John Sheppard's vision. It was a swath of darkness, of blackness with no light to illumine it, no other colors to break up the bleakness of the singular shade. It perfectly matched his dour mood, the grim black hole of despair and guilt and sorrow he kept buried within him. The pit of blackness and ugliness that he couldn't fill no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he drank or went through the Stargate or tried to pretend that everything was fine, that he was getting back to normal and nothing extraordinary had happened when he had ventured through the space/time rift to save an alternate Earth from the Wraith.
Nothing at all.
John grunted, hearing the alarm beginning to buzz. He realized the blackness was in fact one of his black t-shirts and not the manifestation of his gloom. He was sprawled face first on his bed, still clad in yesterday's clothes. He grunted again as the alarm became more insistent. Its tones were annoying. He reached over and slammed his palm onto the clock. He slammed it again and the alarm fell silent at last.
He rolled over on the small bed, onto his back and stared blearily at the ceiling. The blue and green shades should have been soothing but instead he was irritated by them. He sat, blinked and made a face as the horrible taste in his mouth informed him exactly what he had been doing most of the night. As if the evidence of the scattered beer cans on the floor around his bed weren't enough of a condemnation.
John clambered off of the bed and slouched towards the bathroom. He ran a hand through his wildly disordered hair, across his stubbly face. He stared at himself in the mirror. He looked like hell. His green eyes were bloodshot, full of weariness and ire. He scowled, sighed and stripped to take a shower. He knew he had to at least attempt to make himself presentable.
Everyone would notice if he didn't make an effort.
He stood under the spray as the hot water pounded him. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back and vigorously scrubbed the soap along his body. He licked his lips as he caught hold and began a more frenetic motion, imagining several salacious and sensual visions in his mind. He roved over the women of Atlantis, deciding he needed to get laid and laid soon. He pondered which woman to pick for the brief but satisfying sex. It wouldn't mean anything, just a physical release and some quick enjoyment.
It never meant anything.
He moaned, grunted, and freed himself. He rinsed off, smirking at his quick release. He knew he would have no problem finding a woman for a more satisfying sexual encounter but the pleasure never lasted long enough. His mind briefly flitted to a woman with long brown hair and a white lab coat, a woman with passionate brown eyes but he chased the memory aside with vicious determination.
There was no sense in dwelling on things that could never be.
He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel to wipe the water off his body. He shaved, brushed his teeth, fussed with his hair. He dressed in his usual accouterment of a black t-shirt and blue BDU pants. He strapped on his thigh holster and slid his 9mm into it securely. He pulled on socks and his military boots. He eyed himself in the mirror again. At last he was presentable, or as near to it as he could come after a night of binge drinking and sleeplessness.
John exited his room. His stomach grumbled and he headed for the cafeteria, wanting breakfast and a cup of hot, hot coffee to clear his mind. He nodded at people who passed him. People he knew but didn't bother to greet by name. He smiled at women who were giving him the eye, who were always giving him the eye or just staring at him in unabashed desire and admiration.
He entered the cafeteria and grabbed a tray. He watched as it was filled with scrambled eggs, toast and a slice of bacon. He took a whiff of the hot coffee being poured into his cup and made his way to an empty table. He began to eat, thinking of nothing. He sipped the coffee, feeling more like himself as the morning promised to erase all the gloom and pensive ponderings of the previous evening.
"Morning, John!" Rodney McKay took the seat across from his friend, uninvited. He set down an overflowing tray. Every kind of breakfast food imaginable was heaped upon it like some offering to appease an angry god. When in fact it was to appease Rodney's appetite. He began to eat and talk at the same time, an annoying and somewhat disgusting habit that John tried to ignore as he nibbled on his toast. "And how are we this morning, hmm? Never mind. I've been working on those calculations you brought back from that alternate reality and I have to say they are quite fascinating! Intriguing when one considers the possibility of alternate worlds, parallel universes and the like. Oh, I know," he continued to John's glare, "we have more immediate problems like the Wraith and how to boost our own power ratios since we are down a ZPM but hey we gave it over to defend Earth so I can't really argue about that now can I?"
"No."
Rodney drank some coffee, and John drank in the brief moment of silence before the physicist began anew. "I think I have a promising lead on a ZPM and we should probably contemplate a mission there, to M1K439, you know, the waterfall planet. I found some references in the data base to a power source and it could not only prove to be Ancient but—"
"No."
"—a possible alternative to what we already use now to what do you mean no? No?" Rodney's enthusiasm was halted mid-sentence as John's word finally registered. He set down his fork. "What do you mean, no?" he repeated.
"No. We don't need to go there. We've been there," John stated simply. He sipped some coffee and stabbed his food with his fork.
"I know that! But I think we overlooked something vital and this time we should take a full recon team and not just do a flyover."
"No."
Rodney sighed. "I don't suppose you would care to elaborate on your reasons why you are refusing a perfectly justifiable mission?"
"No." But this time John smiled to further irritate the scientist. He was about to add some cutting remark when a voice brayed over the comm unit.
"Colonel Sheppard to the 'Gate room! Colonel Sheppard to the 'Gate room!"
"Gotta go, McKay. Could be vital."
"Not as vital as this conversation! John!" Rodney called, but John was on his feet and striding out of the cafeteria. People made way for him. Rodney sighed, gave a last fond look at his breakfast and quickly made to follow the military commander to head off today's disaster.
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The control room was a sea of calm, but technicians were swarming at their consoles. Radek Zelenka spun in his chair and felt a wave of relief as both John and Rodney reached him. "We've got unauthorized activation of the 'Gate."
"Location?" John asked, watching as the Stargate's chevrons began to light up one by one.
"Close the Iris!" Rodney said almost at the same time, shoving a technician aside to quickly type the commands. A shimmer of silver blocked the Gate after the KAWOOSH erupted. "Incoming transmission from M1M396," Rodney announced.
"What? That's, that's Pleistocene Park!" Evan Lorne exclaimed. He had rushed to the control room hearing the summons of his superior officer, knowing that more than likely he would be needed. He clutched a P90 in his hands, exchanged a look with John.
"Sir! It's Bath's IDC. Receiving. Authenticating! Sir, orders?"
John was staring at the shimmering, shielded wormhole. Disbelief vying with suspicion. He felt uncertain, out of sorts and didn't know what to do, what to say. His normal brash confidence had seemingly fled. His heart was hammering in his chest and he could feel a cold sweat bathing his skin. He tried to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat.
"That's impossible! Bath was killed there! Horribly killed by those, those things, those sub-Wraith," Evan reminded, clutching his gun all the tighter. The creatures had also killed a friend of his, a member of his team and he hadn't quite let the grief go. Not yet.
"Open the Iris," John decided, finding his voice.
"What? Are you crazy? We know it's not Bath! It could be anything out there! What if it's one of those sub-Wraith creatures?" Rodney objected.
"I said open the damn Iris!" John ordered gruffly. "Lock down the 'Gate room. Delta, positions!" He moved to the glass wall. Below him the marines flanked the Stargate, their guns aimed at its shimmering center.
Rodney swore, but with a touch of a button he made the Iris dissolve.
The wormhole shimmered like a silver pool. It was silent. The marines kept their weapons trained on it but nothing emerged from the Stargate. Terse minutes passed. John's lips were pursed together as he stood, arms folded across his chest. He stared balefully at the wormhole, as if daring something or someone to come through the device.
There was a crackle of static. Then a voice. Weak. Female.
"Atlantis…copy? Atlantis…are you read…me…Doctor O'Meara from the…expedition to…Wraith…the…Colonel Sheppard? John?" The voice seemed to crack over the name. "There's an entelodont and it will...Evan? Evan, can you hear me? Atlantis, this is…"
Abruptly the voice stopped. The wormhole disengaged, dissipating into nothing.
There was silence in the control room. Stunned silence. As if everyone was afraid to speak, having heard what was in all likelihood impossible. Or so they had believed. Doctor O'Meara had been left for dead over a month ago on M1M396. Dragged away by the horrid sub-Wraith creatures the team had encountered on the mission. John had lost hold of her and she had been taken away by the creatures.
He could still feel her fingers slipping out of his even now.
John was already moving, jolted from his shock, his surprise. "Dial it up, now! Lorne, with me! Get Beckett down here now! Let's go!" He spun to a comm unit and slammed his hand on it. "Beckett, to the 'Gate room now! Emergency!"
"Whoa, wait! John, it can't possibly be that missing scientist! The cryptozoologist? There's no way!" Rodney was standing near the console, his fingers hovering over the dialing device as he tried to process what had just happened.
"Paleozoologist," John corrected icily, pausing to meet his friend's gaze. He saw the concern, the worry. Only Rodney had caught a glimpse of how much her loss had affected John. Only Rodney had seen the terrible cost, and had heard about the odd occurrence of John seeing a whole life with this woman before she had been torn away from him. "And there's only one way to find out! Page Beckett now! Lorne, let's go! Dial it up, damn it, and remember it takes two ATA people to do it!"
"Then how in the hell did she dial us?" Rodney asked, but John and Evan were sprinting down to the Gate room. Rodney gestured as Carson Beckett entered the control room.
"What is it, Rodney? I was practically shoved here by a—"
"Dial with me! Then you are going through the 'Gate."
"What? Why?" asked the Scottish doctor, perplexed. He glanced to the 'Gate room to see John and Evan impatiently waiting. "What's happened? Where's the emergency?"
Rodney shrugged. "Apparently there's a ghost on M1M396."