Richard Woolsey leaned his shoulder against the window, a small smile playing about his lips. He twirled the stem of a wine glass between his fingertips and gazed out over the water at a typical golden Atlantis sunset, light winking off the faceted spires of the city. Although Colonel Carter had declined Doctor Weir's former quarters, Richard hadn't allowed squeamishness to deny him one of the best views of Atlantis. Once one discounted bloodthirsty aliens and threat of death on a regular basis, his job did have its perks. Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard – John – stood on his balcony below, elbows resting on the railing, chin pillowed on his hands. Richard knew not to get crushes on people he worked with of course, but Colonel Sheppard's back rose and fell in a sigh, his jacket bunched up around his shoulders. He had slim hips, especially at this angle, but it was the sigh that made Richard's lips part. Impossible to tell if it was a frustrated sigh, a satisfied sigh, or just a sigh at the beauty of a romantic sunset.
It wouldn't take much to sidle up to him and ask, "Long day?" or something similarly innocuous. Just a trip through the living room, then down the hall to the transporter, where he would knock on John's door …
… and reveal that he'd been spying on him.
All right, that wasn't feasible.
Richard decided to pretend that Colonel Sheppard was a closet romantic taken in by the sweeping vista. What was the harm in a little fantasy?
He played out the rest of the conversation in his mind. Yes, it is a lovely evening. A bit chilly though, out here in the wind. Would John care for a game of chess? He'd heard he was quite a player. Dinner at eight? Yes, that would be fine.
When Richard opened his eyes, John had gone.
~*~*~
Richard puttered around his quarters, straightening the clothes in his closet. He had always been an early riser, which meant that he tried to be in bed early as well whenever possible. So by eight o'clock he was in his pajamas, a book ready on his dressing table, a small decorative paperweight holding it open, the covers turned down while he set out his uniform for the next day. Most communication in Atlantis came over the ubiquitous radios, which left him unprepared for a knock at the door. His unexpected caller rapped again.
It was John, or Colonel Sheppard rather, still in his rumpled uniform, his hair sticking up at a rakish angle. He looked Richard up and down, eyes widening in obvious surprise at the pajamas, although Richard didn't know what he expected at this late hour.
"Is there anything the matter?" Richard asked, with some asperity he'd have to admit. He found himself coiled, waiting for a snide comment about his PJs.
"Uh." Sheppard shifted from one foot to the other. "I can come back another time, I guess." He ran his hand through his hair, frowning in consternation.
Richard relented. There seemed to be no pajama comments in the offing. "What can I do for you, Colonel?"
"Well, I brought the chess set, but if you're busy...."
Indeed he had. There was a portable chess set tucked under his elbow.
"You said eight, I mean, I already stopped by the Mess earlier but...." Sheppard glanced back down the hallway behind him.
"I didn't think I--" Richard realized he was in the process of turning down a date with one Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard and thought the better of it. "Why, yes," he said, planning quickly. He straightened and gathered his dignity. "Let me fetch my robe."
They had a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Sheppard was not a stellar chess player by any means but he could hold his own. And he slouched in his chair eying Richard with a sparkle of amusement in his eye, which might have been regarding the pajamas, but he was good enough company that Richard was willing to forgive him.
By the time they packed up the chess set for the night, John was relaxed and -- dare he say it? -- boyishly playful. He wagged a chiding finger at Richard's empty wine glass and said, "Now next time, you should share. Is that a Chateau Chauvin Saint Emillion?" He picked up the bottle, turning it to examine the label. "2003. Nice."
Richard was instantly charmed, brightening. "You know your wines?" It was too good to be true. Although John always had an air of class that he couldn't quite disguise. Air Force pilots tended to be from the better families.
"I know enough to be dangerous," John said with a bashful glance at the floor. "I'm no sommelier, but my dad used to do a lot of wine tasting parties."
The mere fact that John knew the word "sommelier" made Richard's eyes go half-lidded and wistful. He found himself agreeing to a date the following night as John went almost skipping out the door with a cheery backward wave.
By then it was ten o'clock. Richard set aside the book he'd planned to read and climbed into bed. He shut off the bedside lamp, entirely pleased by the course his life had taken as he snuggled under the covers.
~*~*~
The next day it struck him as strange that Colonel Sheppard had shown up at all. He hadn't invited him. Not out loud anyway. Truth to tell, Richard was used to being virtually invisible when it came to matters of the heart. But perhaps Sheppard merely wanted to play chess. Though he had been ... flirtatious. Was he even interested in men? The issue distracted Richard all morning until he finally decided to do something about it.
Richard snapped his laptop shut and strode out of his office. He nearly ran directly into Doctor Zelenka.
"Excuse me," Richard said. Zelenka moved to the left at the same time Richard did. Richard moved to the right even as Zelenka did. Finally, they worked their way around each other.
He caught up with Dr. McKay on the way to the mission planning meeting.
"I don't suppose the ATA gene gives one, ah, peculiar capabilities, does it?" Richard asked.
Dr. McKay's tone was acid, which Richard supposed he deserved. "No. Your getting the gene therapy won't make you able to leap buildings in a single bound or see through clothing to check out women's underwear." Richard instantly saw the flaw in this argument; if one saw through clothing one would see through the underwear as well. But he let it go. "You'll just be able to work the Ancient technology. That is, if the gene therapy takes. It didn't on Radek," Dr. McKay said, with smug and obvious schadenfreude.
Richard made a brief mental note to plan some team bonding exercises for the science department. Zelenka's Myer's-Briggs scores indicated he was sensitive to personal digs.
"But if one has a natural occurrence of the gene...." Richard prodded, hurrying to keep up. Doctor McKay had a habit of walking faster when faced with a question he didn't like. "… That makes one more or less an Ancient, doesn't it? They had abilities that are far beyond the human norm."
He wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable with the thought that Sheppard could read his mind, not with the explicit images that had preoccupied him since the previous night. Pleasant to be sure, but not something he was prepared to share quite yet.
"No, no, the gene does not make you Wonder Woman Ior/I an Ancient. The Ancients were human. They only had abilities after they Ascended." Dr. McKay frowned, slowing his steps. "And a little bit before they Ascended, too." He started moving quickly again, shaking his head as if to shake off problematic implications of the question. "Anyway, the gene alone doesn't give you Ascended superpowers. If you want to shoot webs out of your palms, you're out of luck. Now," he paused at the briefing room, arms folded, mouth tilted in a sardonic smirk. "If you don't mind, I have actual work to do that doesn't revolve around prepubescent fantasies about turning into Marvel comic book characters."
Standing abandoned in the corridor, Richard found it interesting that Doctor McKay had assumed that he'd wanted superpowers. With some careful thought no doubt he could develop that into a useful insight concerning his chief of science. For the time being however, he was merely grateful that Colonel Sheppard was unlikely to read his mind anytime soon. He rubbed the palm of his hand with his thumb, stalled in the hallway outside the briefing room. He could see through the window where the colonel was sipping from a deep mug of coffee, glancing up at Ronon as he grinned over some joke between them.
It left Richard with a conundrum. How had he known of their eight o'clock date?
~*~*~
The briefing turned out to be a busy one.
"The first order of business--" Doctor McKay said, seizing the floor, "--is Hives and more Hives." Richard was left with his mouth open, one finger raised, about to approve the prior meeting's minutes. There was no way to redirect without seeming petty.
Doctor Zelenka manned the PowerPoint slides, projecting an image of the system around P97-42D, a binary system with two habitable planets: the densely populated, temperate Arras, and the more desolate Hitaea. Arras was their primary concern. They supplied much of that sector with a staple called Arras grain as they were able to produce three, sometimes four harvests per year. Atlantis relied on it as well. Arras bread was doughy and sweet.
Zelenka magnified the image.
A Hive. Silhouetted against their fourth moon it looked like an arachnid, lying in wait.
"Based on the local census one can see why they've stopped by for fast food," Doctor McKay continued, his sarcasm dry as dust.
"There will be famine throughout the sector," Teyla said, sounding at once sad and determined.
"It's in enroute to Hitaea," Richard noted with an inward moan. They were just trying to establish relations with Hitaea's new government. He hated opening negotiations with bad news.
"Blow it up. We've got the firepower with the Daedalus," Ronon said with a shrug.
"Yes, yes, of course we thought of that. Unfortunately, the Wraith are now relying on the buddy system," Doctor McKay said. Doctor Zelenka showed a second slide with, yes, another Hive ship. "It should be there in less than forty-eight hours."
"Are we sure that's not a rival Hive?" Sheppard asked. "I mean, that planet is plum pickings. No offense," he added to Teyla.
She gave him a bland smile.
"They haven't turned to shoot at each other, so I would say no," McKay said.
"Let's break up the party," Sheppard said. "Just because they're cooperating doesn't mean they really want to share." He shifted forward in his seat, forearms on the conference table. "With a banquet this big—sorry, Teyla— " She rolled her eyes and looked pained. "—They probably have some deal to not dive in before saying grace."
Zelenka nodded. "That would explain why the first Hive hasn't attacked the planet yet."
"The Wraith have their standard operating procedure. Why not dial up the gate for them, draw out their Darts…." Sheppard continued.
"They'd think that the other Hive jumped the gun," Richard said, nodding, impressed.
"They'd see us. Wouldn't they see us?" Rodney glanced around the table.
"Nah, not if we cloaked right away. Just lift our skirts and tease them a little," Sheppard said with a smirk, his eyes sparkling.
Ronon pursed his lips and shook his head. Richard had found that Ronon, when and if he gave his opinion, was an excellent tactician. "Risky. Can't count on them staying far apart."
"Oh!" McKay snapped his fingers, standing. "We can take out their lower sensor array!" He went on excitedly, "We've been doing some research. We know that Wraith sensors work like bug senses: they rely less on visuals, more on vibration and radiation. Us, even when we track radiation we translate it into a visual. Now a blown sensor array would interfere with long and short range tracking, distort the frequencies of any readings they do get, not to mention the feedback would interfere with their communications, kind of like a—" He spun his hand in the air, searching for a word. "—microphone squeal."
"Ugh. I hate that sound," Sheppard said, wincing. "We'd have to fly in close with F-302s. Puddlejumpers aren't that maneuverable. It'll be like Star Wars," he added, clearly warming to the idea.
Ronon nodded. "Torture them with noise. Turn them against each other. The Daedalus mops up the mess. I like it."
"But we'll be dialing the Arras gate. Those people will have no means to escape during the attack," Teyla said, fixing a shocked look on each of them.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"The Wraith are going to do that anyway," Sheppard pointed out.
"Yes, but we would be doing it," Teyla said, a frown creasing her forehead. Her voice remained placid, edged with disbelief.
She seemed … perturbed. Richard cleared his throat, diving to Sheppard's defense. "Given the size of their population, only a tiny percentage would be able to—"
"That doesn't matter!" Teyla said, firmly, shoulders squared, both hands planted on the conference table.
"If it works, no one will die. Except the Wraith," Sheppard said, his tight smile sarcastic.
"And if it doesn't?"
Sheppard chewed his lip before he dragged the answer out, with a conceding nod. "Then… things would definitely be worse."
Richard stepped in to mollify her. "No decision is being made at the moment. We need to review all aspects of the colonel's plan first. Plus it must be approved by the IOA."
"The IOA." Ronon groaned. He flicked something that clattered across the table. A pen cap. "Kiss the Arras bread goodbye."
McKay looked mournful. "I like Arras bread. They make these little pastry things, you dunk them in your coffee and really, they ought to sell them on Earth, they'd make a killing at Starbucks."
"You would seal their gate over pastry?" Teyla said, her tone rising.
"Yes?" McKay said nervously, looking around at the others for support.
Ronon looked at the wall. Sheppard studied his hands. Doctor Zelenka cleared his throat and became suddenly very, very busy with his PowerPoint slides.
Richard decided he was the only brave one here. He took a breath and pointed out with a delicate gesture, "I believe the issue at hand was famine."
Sheppard leaned back in his chair, stretching. "All right. Instead, let's create a program that makes them fly into the nearest sun." He let his arms drop. "All of them. All the Wraith. I've been pushing for it for years." He turned to Doctor McKay with a grin. "How's that coming, Rodney?"
McKay gave a disgusted snort and held up the garbage can. "Thank you for your ever helpful suggestion." He set the garbage can down with a clang. "Sadly, clicking your heels three times does not make it so," he said. "The only way we could do it is if we're on board. All of them. All the Hives. Then we get to fly into the sun with them. Or rather, Iyou/I do, because I'm not setting foot on another Hive ever again if I can help it."
"But if you knock out the sensor array first they'll never see what hit them."
"Yes, yes, back from fantasy land, please."
The rest of the meeting was routine. They brainstormed alternate sources for Arras grain. There was the not-so-minor matter of a disciplinary hearing that was too expensive to open a wormhole through to Earth, yet too serious to be resolved by Atlantis. (Much amusement all around when Ronon cracked his knuckles and offered, "I'll handle it.") There was also the matter of a brief power surge at eight p.m. the night before that had shorted out a dozen scientific projects, drained the back-up naquadah reactors, yet interestingly had left the ZPM alone. Doctor McKay went on at length about the inconvenience. Since as a result all the clocks in Atlantis were out of sync with Pegasus gate time, Major Lorne's anthropological team had missed a meeting with the new government of Hitaea. 'My clock was wrong' went over about as well as 'My dog ate my homework.'
The Hitaens now demanded a representative of higher rank. Specifically Elizabeth.
Their information about Atlantis was a bit out of date.
Nevertheless, there were enough slow moments (particularly during McKay's diatribe) that by the end of the briefing Richard had decided that, however Sheppard had learned of their date, a little mystery was healthy in a relationship.
He gave Sheppard a smile that was likely too warm for such a professional setting, at least according to the reaction it received. The colonel dipped his head and looked away, scratching at his eyebrow. Richard reminded himself they needed to be circumspect.
But he couldn't resist cornering him after the meeting, catching up with him at the door. "I was thinking a white wine tonight would be best. For variety's sake."
If he sounded eager, well, anyone would understand.
Colonel Sheppard gave him a confused blink. "If you say so."
"Or perhaps a Cave de Tain Crozes du Fife? I have a 2003 on hand. Or else I could break out the Amadieu Romaine Machette Gigondas. 2005 was an excellent year."
"Search me. I don't know a thing about wines," John said, brushing past him.
Which was odd. Very odd.
~*~*~
That evening by a quarter past eight, Richard realized that they never mentioned a time for their date. He had just assumed it would be the same as the night before, being a creature of habit himself.
By eight thirty he put the cork back in the wine. There was letting it breathe, and then there was letting out all the aroma which comprised much of the flavor.
By nine p.m. he decided to eat dinner, an exotic fish caught off the Atlantis pier that morning (Teyla had assured him it was a Pegasus galaxy delicacy). It was getting cold.
By nine thirty he blew out the candle and cleaned up, taking the tray with the single set of dirty dishes downstairs. On his return he put on his pajamas and settled on the bed. He flipped through his book after he slipped under the covers, not really reading it. He turned over and over in his mind what he must have done wrong.
No doubt it was that smile during the briefing.
He decided to apologize to Colonel Sheppard. Hopefully they could at least salvage their professional relationship, if not their romantic one, which apparently was (tragically) nipped in the bud due to Richard's impropriety.
It was such a pity. He and Sheppard had really seemed to hit it off. Not to mention he was only two dates away from, well ... traditionally, wasn't the third date supposed to be the one where things grew a little more intimate? If that had been Sheppard's intent. Richard still wasn't quite sure.
He set the book aside, finally admitting that he wasn't up for reading at the moment, and shut off the light with a click. He folded his hands behind his head and contented himself with might-have-beens, imagining the soft brush of lips across his own.
~*~*~
The bed dipped next to Richard and he felt a warm, broad hand clapped over his mouth. He would have cried out, but a breath tickled his ear, with the suggestive scratch of five o'clock shadow. "Shhhh…."
Sheppard.
"You're early," Richard said blearily; two dates early, he meant, nonsensical even to himself moments after he blurted it out.
"Funny. And here I thought I was late," Sheppard whispered. "Sorry. Got tied up in the armory. But I can think of a way to make it up to you." There was a lascivious smile in his voice.
"I'm certain you can," Richard assured him, grateful when Sheppard rolled on top and soft lips devoured his own.
~*~*~
Water pattered against the shower wall, muffled, the sound syncopated and interrupted by a low male cough. The question of Sheppard's intent was resolved. Richard lay in a daze, the covers a shambles around him. Curiously unsatisfied.
Oh, it had been everything he'd imagined. And hoped for. But it seemed … well, he couldn't quite place his feeling of discomfort.
Sheppard considerately turned off the bathroom light before he opened the door. It was a pet peeve of Richard's, the way most men would forget that his eyes were adjusted to the dark and blind him. All right, it had happened just the once, though that was enough to put Richard off one night stands. But Sheppard was a perfect gentleman. He stood toweling off in the moist air, his body casually on display, striped with shadow.
Perhaps Richard was old-fashioned and preferred a slower courtship?
Sheppard paused in his ostentatious toweling and looked up, his eyes hooded in the half-light. "Too soon?" He had a perfect stomach, rippled, a widening furred line angling downward. He stepped over to a chair, fished through the pile of clothes and pulled his sweatshirt over his head, which gave Richard a moment to recover.
"Oh, no, not at all," Richard lied.
~*~*~
Richard huffed up the carved stone stairway, one hand to his chest, trying to breathe shallower and not seem so winded. Beside him Doctor Zelenka glanced about his surroundings with a little smile of mild interest, apparently unaffected by the steep climb. Several steps ahead, the anthropologist, Doctor Littleman, and the two Marines seemed similarly comfortable even while Richard paused to mop his brow.
No doubt they'd all had a good night's sleep.
He reached the portion of the stairway that had gleamed from a distance. Richard had expected it to be glass, but instead the steps were made of a metal alloy similar to the one used by the Ancients. As Doctor Littleman reached the steps they lit up, one by one, just like the gateroom stair in Atlantis.
"They have a ZPM?" Richard turned a startled glance on Zelenka.
"Geothermal," Zelenka explained with a dismissive gesture, pursing his lips. "We've seen it before. Inefficient, though it is clever how they've utilized an alternate power source."
"They are technologically advanced then," Richard asked, not attempting to hide his surprise. Shouldn't this have been mentioned in the briefing?
"Ten thousand years ago. Now they merely play with what the Ancients left behind." Zelenka gave him a wry glance.
"Like us?" Richard said, eyebrow raised meaningfully. He had to be fair after all.
"No. They know nothing, can fix nothing." Zelenka shook his head. "They have only one industry. A very profitable one."
Yes. The sex trade. And the sex slaves had risen up against their masters. Bare-chested men in leather tunics and Wraith stunners slung over their shoulders guided Richard's party. It appeared the city was still under martial law.
An hour later, the sun high overhead, Richard stood on the dais outside the colonnade of Hitaea's palace, extending his hand to the new minister of Hitaea. It had taken some effort to convince them he was, in fact, the new leader of Atlantis, though the Hitaeans refused to believe he hadn't violently overthrown Elizabeth's government.
"Welcome," the minister said with a sneer, his cloak thrown back. He was a handsome man with dark hawk-like features. "Take your ease with the comforts of our city." He gestured to a pair of blonds, a man and a woman, who were chained and forced to kneel beside him. "You may have two of my own for the duration of your stay."
"Ah. The gesture is much appreciated," Richard said. Beside him Zelenka visibly cringed. "But that won't be necessary. Our visit, ah, will be too brief."
As the new lord of Hitaea swept them towards the welcome feast, Richard asked Zelenka in an undertone, "Is it normal for them to, ah," he swallowed, "extend sexual invitations to their visitors?"
Zelenka leaned closer. "It is." He nudged in the direction of the proffered slaves. "However, they're the former leaders of Hitaea."
~*~*~
Richard tapped away at his computer, peering closer as he backspaced.
He hadn't been avoiding Sheppard. He merely had a great deal of paperwork to catch up on. He was the head of a very important base, in another galaxy, in charge of a group of adventurers who (probably predictably) rebelled against proper procedures more than most. It explained a great deal about the first three years of the Atlantis expedition, most especially Michael. That would not have happened on Richard's watch.
"You wanted to see me?" Colonel Sheppard peered around his door.
The answer to this of course was no, but he was too much of a professional to admit it. "Yes, come in." Richard mustered a smile.
Colonel Ellis had informed him that Sheppard's plan was ridiculous and insane. All the men below Ellis had informed him that it would probably work. Colonel Caldwell had agreed with both assessments. He had a go.
The fact that it made Richard's heart seize with worry was immaterial. He told Sheppard as much. Well, without the worry part.
The fact that Sheppard's face lit with happiness at the idea of ruthlessly killing approximately eight hundred Wraith, risking death in the process, confirmed Colonel Ellis' point. Once again Richard decided the military were a breed apart. He tightened his resolve to break it off with Sheppard.
"Colonel," Richard hazarded as Sheppard turned to leave. His voice came out shakier than he'd prefer. "Ah. John," he amended, looking down, his cheeks warming. They were surely on a first name basis now.
The colonel blinked.
Richard took a deep breath. "I realize that we're both professionals."
The blink turned to a confused frown. It was distracting what a kissable mouth he had, particularly with that puzzled pout.
"And naturally I won't permit, ah, recent developments to in any way effect my decisions."
Sheppard's eyes flicked to the side. Good, he was uncomfortable also. That made this easier.
"However," Richard straightened the paperweight on his desk. He looked up earnestly. "I do feel it's best that it not continue, for the sake of the expedition. Any complications could potentially have a very real impact on the success of this mission." Sheppard's mouth had opened, his eyes narrowed to a squint. "I'm sorry. I wish it could be different."
Sheppard stared at Richard while his mouth worked, mouthing a silent wh-- as he shook his head. Apparently he wasn't used to being dumped, which Richard supposed this was.
Colonel Caldwell appeared at the door, peering through the glass. He craned his neck towards Sheppard.
Sheppard licked his lips, glanced in Caldwell's direction, and said with a casual swipe of his hand, his head bobbing, "Glad to hear it."
Richard blinked several times as the door slid shut and Sheppard followed Caldwell, already deep in conference.
Oh.
Sheppard had certainly taken that well.
~*~*~
He was disconcerted, to say the least, during his next appointment with Doctor Zelenka. Since Doctor McKay busy preparing for the Wraith mission, Zelenka had been tasked with looking into the power disruption.
"It came from within the city. We believe a non-essential system of some kind may have malfunctioned," Zelenka reported.
"Of some kind. Could you be more specific?" Richard snapped.
"Not unless it happens again, I'm afraid." Zelenka shrugged. "The power drain temporarily deactivated the very systems that would record it, so it wasn't noticed till morning."
"So whoever it was covered their tracks skillfully," Richard said, his jaw set.
"Ah." Zelenka licked his lips, a clear gesture of nervousness Richard had read about in IHow To Win Friends And Influence People/I. "It may not be so nefarious. I have a theory."
"Yes? And-?" Richard made himself breathe. His natural impatience was something he tried to keep in check.
Zelenka shifted in his seat and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He was definitely nervous. "May I… have some latitude in researching this problem?"
"Some latitude? What kind of latitude?" Was this a scientific project gone wrong? He mentally ransacked the list of past disasters but this didn't resemble any of them, with the possible exception of the creature that ate power. But surely it would have attacked the ZPM first.
Zelenka shifted in his seat. "If I can solve the problem do I need to say what caused it?"
Richard shook his head. Giving scientists carte blanche to cover their mistakes didn't strike him as a good idea. "I'm sorry. You must properly document both the problem and the solution should we encounter it in the future," he said primly.
"Very well," Doctor Zelenka said.
~*~*~
Richard took several minutes to fluff his pillow, patting and straightening it, till he turned around and settled his back comfortably to finally read his book. He put on his bifocals, tucked in his chin as he adjusted the distance. The crisp pages sounded uncommonly loud as he turned them, trying to recapture the thread of the story.
After a while, he sighed. He took off the glasses and rubbed his eyes.
It was no use. While he had no illusions that one amorous night made for any depth of feeling, Richard considered himself a "sensitive soul." He had grown attached to Colonel Sheppard entirely too quickly. But it was clear from Sheppard's casual entrance, and equally casual exit, from their relationship that he did not feel the same.
Richard was not well-equipped for one night stands. He was more the sort to, oh, flirt at the coffee pot, develop an acquaintance trading ibon mots/i, followed maybe with a dinner date or two as he built rapport. Then he'd book, say, a ski lodge for a romantic rendezvous.
Or at least that's how he imagined himself to be. He didn't actually date much. Eyes half-closed, he pictured it with a satisfied smile.
The snow drifting down outside. Sheppard in a cable knit turtleneck, laying a fire in a sunken living room. His smile lighting his eyes as Richard came in to tell him dinner would be ready shortly.
~*~*~
Richard woke to find his light still on, the book open on his chest, one page rumpled. He rubbed his face with the back of his hand, sniffing, then caught the scent of smoke and the crowded sense of someone else in the room. He blinked, trying to clear his eyes, and reached for his glasses.
Sheppard blew out the match in his hand, the thin trail of smoke curling upward. On the windowsill behind him a row of Athosian temple candles flickered, making reddish gold highlights in Sheppard's hair and over his bare shoulders. He wore a pair of loosely knotted linen sweats, Satedan style.
"You didn't have a fireplace," Sheppard said by way of explanation.
"How do you keep getting in here?" Richard asked, bemused.
Sheppard tapped a forefinger to his lips for secrecy. "I have my ways."
"We broke up," Richard pointed out as Sheppard proceeded to prowl across the bed on his hands and knees. Squirming till he was sitting up, Richard started to suspect he was dreaming.
"We both know you didn't mean that."
True enough.
~*~*~
When Richard woke, he meant to roll over and ask Sheppard just how he'd known about the fireplace, but he found the bed empty. He was a light sleeper yet Sheppard moved more quietly than anyone he'd ever known. Richard scratched his head.
Of course, Sheppard's mission was scheduled for today, come to think of it. He probably went back to his own quarters to get some uninterrupted sleep.
~*~*~
On the long-range scanners a squadron of seven dots blinked closer to the two Hive ships, seeming to rise from the nearby planet. Richard paced in the Atlantis control room, tapping his chin.
Sheppard's voice came hissing over the comm. "Has everyone gone potty?"
He got an answering splutter of expletives from the other pilots.
"I'm just saying, we're going to be a while," Sheppard continued. "We'll need to keep them engaged long enough to take out their sensors."
"I was planning to take a leak right here, sir," Major Lorne said.
"Better your seat than mine." Sheppard laughed. He was in a very good mood. "How's it going back there, R2?"
"Stop calling me that or you can find the sensor array on your own," Dr. McKay complained. "And for the record, I am cramped, claustrophobic—and did I mention cramped?"
"A good aircraft should fit like a condom, Dr. McKay," one of the pilots sang back.
The others laughed, including Sheppard.
"The glove of love," added another.
"Yes, well, aerodynamics aren't an issue in interstellar travel so this is unnecessary—oh my God," McKay interrupted himself, shock evident in his voice. "They're huge. I hate Hives. It looks like we're approaching islands, not spacecraft."
"Aircraft carriers in space," Sheppard agreed.
"We're like gnats in comparison," McKay said, sounding worried.
"Very irritating gnats," Sheppard corrected him in a school teacher's voice. His voice turned businesslike, "Daedalus. This is Sheppard. We're going in."
"Copy that," the Daedalus responded. The larger dot of the Daedalus was tucked behind a small moon, in position to cut off the most obvious angle of retreat.
As long as the Hives didn't get spooked and go into hyperspace, Sheppard's plan stood a chance.
~*~*~
It was a strange experience, watching a battle from a console, attempting to correlate human shouts to the movement of dots on a screen. One of them winked out. Richard's pupils dilated.
"We lost Remley, repeat, we lost Captain Remley!"
"Keep on them!" Sheppard's voice snapped. "God damn it, Rodney! If you don't find that array--!"
"It's not here, I keep telling you!" Dr. McKay shouted. i"Our schematics are wrong, or else they changed the design, but I can't give you what's not here!"/i
"Abort! Abort!" Major Lorne announced. "We're getting creamed, Colonel!"
"Oh, Jesus, we're going to die...." McKay said.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it, I can't shake this one!" another fighter pilot shouted.
"I've got you," Sheppard said, calmer than the rest. There was the sound of weapons fire. Then Sheppard came back on the comm. "I've got another plan. Daedalus, you're invited to the party. Let's push 'em into hyperspace."
Richard glanced up, startled. That was exactly what they didn't want.
This time it was Colonel Caldwell who responded, sounding cautious. "What do you have in mind, Sheppard?"
"It's time to do a little hitchhiking," Sheppard said. "Let's fly these bastards into the sun."
The soldiers in the room exchanged glances.
~*~*~
Richard shook his head in fear at Sheppard's plan but since he wasn't military he didn't even get a vote. He put in his two cents anyway: "Go ahead. Atlantis out."
The Daedalus emerged from behind the moon, electronic streaks across the board hitting the Hive ship from below, the ultraviolet destruction multicolored on the screen. A direct hit.
The second Hive, in position above its sister Hive, was cut off from battle. They couldn't so much as fire without hitting their own ship. Tiny dots like so much chaff around the first Hive scrambled, pulling in close as that blip grew brighter and brighter on Richard's screen. They were spooling up their hyperdrive.
Sheppard's team dove in close to the Daedalus' landing bay, firing at any Darts that got near. They had to land before that first Hive vanished and left the Daedalus wide open to attack from the undamaged one.
The Hive blip disappeared. There were light streaks and multicolors on the Daedalus--they were getting slammed, one strike after another--and Colonel Caldwell announced, "Get us out of here!" The Daedalus pulled upward, fired off its parting shots, then glowed white hot and disappeared. The Hive listed from the damage, one wing going dark on the monitors.
~*~*~
The techs stood and went into a flurry of action, scuttling to change consoles. Their hands moved at lightning speed over the controls as they tried to pick up the Daedalus at the new location. The physicists knew all the worst-case scenarios of hyperspace travel on a good day, the likelihood a ship wouldn't emerge at all.
Eyes went skyward in relief when the Daedalus flashed into view, right on schedule. "Atlantis. This the Daedalus," Colonel Caldwell's voice came loud and placid over the comm. The man was implacable.
Richard unconsciously stepped forward, despite the fact this didn't make him any easier to hear. "Sheppard-?" He held his breath, raising his chin.
"He and Dr. McKay are on board the Hive," Caldwell said. "The first stage of his mission is complete. And it had better damn well work because if my damage reports are correct then we're going to be laid up with repairs for a week. I'm not going to be able to pull Sheppard's fanny out of the fire."
"Understood," Richard said with a curt nod, as if he'd any input in Sheppard's plan at all.
Richard wasn't a stupid man. It was highly unlikely that Sheppard had come up with a plan on the fly, in the midst of combat. Oh no. Sheppard must've had it in mind all along and waited until circumstances pushed them into accepting greater risk.
Richard glowered down at his hands and quietly planned Sheppard's murder.
~*~*~
It was nearly two a.m. when Richard's radio went off. He looked up from his spreadsheet (sleep was a lost cause so he'd opted to get some work done). He tapped his radio and replied, trying not to hope, "Woolsey here."
"We got 'em," Chuck said, his voice hoarse.
He didn't need to say anything else.
"I'll be right there," Richard said, standing abruptly. He left his spreadsheet open, neglecting to save his changes.
The control room was full of Atlantis staff jittery on coffee. It looked more like the day shift and most of them had no business being there, but Richard understood. After hours of stretching the long-range scanners to their utmost, the greenish glow of the Hive blinked on the screen above them. It pulsed just outside a solar system where the sun was ringed with multiple bands of asteroids instead of interior planets. The outer planets looked strangely smeared, fingers of gas stretching outward like ribbons. There was a shining ring around the sun in the place of the orbit where the innermost gas giant had once been.
"That's...." Richard began.
"Doranda. Hell if I know what they're doing there."
Unbelievable. Richard shook his head. Sheppard never ceased to amaze him.
"They'd better get out of there tout suite. A Wraith ship can't hold up to that kind of radiation but it's flying right into that mess. Their tech is biologically based," the tech explained, turning around. "Think flypaper over a bonfire."
"The Hive's lower sensor array must be down," Richard surmised, startling a surprised look out of the tech. No, he had not needed the explanation, thank you very much. "They can't read the radiation levels. And no doubt Dr. McKay has uploaded an autosequence to their navigational system, locking them on course."
Now it was time to pray that Colonel Sheppard had left himself an exit strategy, because what was lethal to Wraith was doubly dangerous to humans. Richard had been assured however, that both the Daedalus and to a lesser extent the F-302s could handle it. For brief periods of time.
"What do we do?" the tech said, eyes wide and desperate.
Richard took a breath and folded his arms. "We wait." His Adam's apple worked as he swallowed.
~*~*~
Twenty minutes went by in heart-stopping silence. The Hive inched toward the solar system. The slow movement, Richard knew, was actually very fast in the context of space travel. McKay had jammed the throttle on full.
A wing of the Hive ignited white-hot as it came into contact with one of the streams of gas. That end of the ship went transparent, spreading. It was breaking up.
Then a speck launched itself from the port side of the Hive ship, aimed out of the system at top speed. An escaping Dart? But a Dart couldn't handle the radiation.
The Atlantis radio crackled to life, "This is Sheppard. Come in, Atlantis."
The crew whooped and clapped. Richard couldn't hear him for a moment.
"--hope you've got the blankies and hot chocolate ready. We ended up in the deep freeze," Sheppard said in his laconic California drawl.
Doctor Zelenka interrupted, leaning over the microphone, "Colonel. You must leave that system immediately. The F-302s are not designed to withstand the exotic particles generated at Doranda. Nothing is."
McKay's voice cut in, "Thank you, Doctor Obvious, we're not stopping to sight-see."
"We were in the neighborhood. Although it is quite a light show--look at these colors. You know those shots of the ocean bed in the Caribbean? Kinda like that. The place sure has changed since our last visit."/I He added, I"We should hire you out to redecorate the rest of the galaxy, McKay."
"Oh, ha, ha."
~*~*~
Atlantis rocked gently on the heavy seas. Richard normally would have waited indoors where it was warm and out of the rain, but he made a point of being out on the pier just this once.
Sheppard's F-302 made its way through the atmosphere, the clear white contrail stretching behind him. Colonel Caldwell had given the okay for the rest of Sheppard's wing to meet him in an impromptu honor guard. Five F-302s rose straight up into the sky in tight formation, engines screaming. They arched up and then fell into place behind Sheppard's ship. Sheppard dipped his wings, left-right, in cheerful recognition.
They streaked past the towers of Atlantis. Sheppard's men on the ground whooped, swinging their fists, jackets, or whatever else they had on hand, in the air. Richard adjusted the hood of his rain jacket, chin raised. His chest swelled as he watched Sheppard.
Sheppard circled back around, swooped in a sharp slope--showing off his piloting skills--and eased into a three-point landing on the pier.
The canopy raised. Sheppard stood up in the cockpit with a broad grin and tore off his helmet. He waved to his men, his hair now soaked into black spikes, bangs plastered to his forehead. Behind him Doctor McKay struggled awkwardly out of his seat, ignoring the crowd as he complained in a voice that cut through the noise, "We could have landed on the Daedalus and beamed directly to sick bay!"
"Where would be the fun in that?" Sheppard said. He slapped McKay heavily on the back.
McKay stumbled on the ladder and called for a medic. "Thanks to you I'll probably have radiation poisoning iand/i a head cold."
With so many witnesses Richard was forced to restrain himself to a dignified, approving nod as Sheppard disappeared behind a wall of well-wishers. The medical staff, Ronon, and Teyla descended on him.
Sheppard hadn't made eye contact, no doubt distracted.
But in his mind Richard could seize John's shoulders and shake him, "Don't ever do that to me again!" Then he'd pull Sheppard into a desperate hug before dragging him back to his quarters where he'd dote on him shamelessly during his recovery.
Richard flowed inside with the rest of the onlookers, his head bowed in thought. He caught up with Colonel Caldwell who had stayed dry, watching through the window. They walked together.
"Sheppard has nine lives," Caldwell noted, shaking his head.
"Hopefully more than that at the rate he's going through them," Richard said. Caldwell chuckled.
"So. Arras?" Caldwell asked and stopped, coming to the real point of their meeting.
"They were attacked," Richard said. Caldwell heaved a sigh. "But the other Hive was crippled. Apparently they didn't wish to see if we'd come back. They jumped into hyperspace not long after you did," Richard reported with a smile. "Famine has been averted. At least for now."
"Any refugees?" Caldwell asked.
Richard glanced at him in surprise.
"I told our people not to dial the Arras gate." Caldwell shrugged and made a face. "McKay took so long finding the damned array, they weren't going to fall for it anyway."
"Then the Wraith managed to dial it," Richard said. "There were none."
Caldwell blew out a tired breath, shoulders sagging. "Well, at least we won today."
"A population that size will continue to attract large, hungry Hives."
"Always one to look on the bright side, aren't you?" Caldwell said, smiling at him ruefully.
"I long ago learned to look gift horses in the mouth," Richard said. He frowned as his normally quick mind came to a few belated conclusions about his late-night visitor.
~*~*~
At the first whisper of movement Richard slid the device out from under his pillow. Sheppard stood in the middle of his bedroom wearing a bathrobe draped open to his waist--and apparently nothing else.
"Want to play doctor?" Sheppard said around a bit of a mumble. He pulled the thermometer out of his mouth and grinned, arms spread for a hug.
Richard raised the weapon and aimed. The snake-like mechanism engaged with a metallic click and sparking hiss. He'd brought the Zat from the SGC months ago, not such a fool as to think he could fire a gun accurately under stress.
"What are you doing?" Sheppard's outspread arms slowly dropped as he stared down at the device. His head tilted in mild confusion, clearly taken aback.
The total lack of recognition of the Goa'uld technology in Sheppard's eyes would have confirmed Richard's worst fears, even if Richard didn't have other, far better, evidence.
"You'd be more convincing if Colonel Sheppard weren't in sick bay being treated for radiation poisoning right now." Richard double-checked the life signs detector, in case he was wrong. In fact, Sheppard hadn't moved from the infirmary. He rose to a kneeling position on the bed, the Zat aimed at the intruder. "I assure you, this weapon can completely disintegrate your body." With three shots, which Richard had no intention of firing.
The Sheppard imposter slouched insolently, one hand on his hip, and smirked. "What are you going to do? Call your royal guards?"
Royal guards? "That's not a bad idea."
"I don't think so. They'll know what you've been up to," the impersonator said, with a completely un-Sheppard-like lilt. "It's not good to be caught in bed with the military."
Confused, Richard asked, "Is that what you hoped to accomplish here? To sully my reputation, and Sheppard's?"
"The royal consort is a powerful position," the imposter-Sheppard said, examining his nails. He didn't seem to believe the Zat was dangerous. Richard tipped it in his hand. The weapon did look rather strange. "And we need Atlantis to bring the country back under control. Plus, with just one of your ships we could control the entire world."
The country? The world—singular? And royal consort? With a little breath, Richard understood. "You're from Hitaea."
"Of course," the imposter said, as if there were no other planets in the galaxy or other possible enemies of Atlantis.
"We just saved you from a Wraith attack," Richard said, aghast.
"What are you talking about?"
But Richard didn't waste any more time. He set down the life signs detector and picked up his radio. "Security. My quarters, please. We have an intruder."
"No need." Doctor Zelenka's voice came from the direction of the doorway. Richard spun around. Zelenka aimed a small thin rod at the Hitaean.
The Hitaean's eyes widened. He recognized it, whatever it was, and said, low and mean in Sheppard's voice, "I'd rather have had Weir...." even as Zelenka waved the rod.
The man disappeared.
"We have the real imposter in the brig," Zelenka said.
Richard took a moment to try to bring his racing heart under control. He hadn't counted on the adrenaline rush that came with aiming a weapon at another human being.
Finally, Doctor Zelenka spoke, saying in a mild tone, "Colonel Sheppard is very handsome, is he not?"
Richard paused. Then admitted, "Yes."
~*~*~
The following morning's briefing was … interesting.
Doctor Zelenka began, "As soon as we realized the ZPM hadn't been touched, we knew we were dealing with Ancient technology, of course, but something with low priority in the Atlantis systems blocked from using primary power."
"It's a toy," Doctor McKay cut to the chase in a tone tinged with disgust. He tossed the decorative paperweight from Woolsey's room on the desk, the one Richard had used to hold his book open. The rounded stone glowed a soft blue. "The Pandora device Elizabeth took away from Sheppard years ago."
"Hey!" Sheppard protested.
McKay barreled on, ignoring him. "Either she kept it in her quarters for safekeeping or the Hitaeans planted one of their own. It's meant for little kids to call up, say, a pony if they want, although leave it to Sheppard to disable the quote-unquote 'parental controls' and corrupt a perfectly innocent children's game for adult purposes."
"I didn't do it on purpose. I didn't know what it was!" Sheppard insisted.
Richard took his cue from the others and ignored Sheppard as well. "Was that why it used Sheppard's image?"
"It probably defaulted to the last image stored." McKay snorted. "Unless you've been fantasizing about Sheppard lately."
Richard wisely didn't say anything even as Zelenka continued, smoothly changing the subject, "The Hitaeans similar devices which they use for, ah, stimulating their clients."
"See? It's not like I corrupted it," Sheppard said.
"You see, more sophisticated users of the machine can control the, ah, imaginary pony from a different location," Zelenka said.
"Or whatever else you plan to ride," McKay muttered.
"McKay…." Sheppard whined. "It's not like you think."
"I don't understand," Richard said, cutting off the pointless argument at the pass. "How could they ever hope to take over Atlantis through this device?"
"That's how they took over the Hitaean government," Doctor Littleman, the anthropologist, broke in. "The royal consort was never real but a perfect fantasy construct. Through it they manipulated the empress, read her emotions, predicted what she would do. That machine is like having a window into your head."
Sheppard straightened in his chair. "That's dangerous."
"Yeah," Littleman said with a laugh. "When the empress figured it out, they had no choice but to resort to a coup. They're not educated. They're just sex slaves. They don't know anything else. Now Hitaea's falling apart. It could be they were just opening up some options, hoping to do the same thing someplace else."
"A back-up plan," Richard echoed.
"Well, I'm crossing them off my Christmas list," McKay said, folding his arms. "I can't believe I nearly flew into a isun/i for these people."
"It was nice seeing the old neighborhood though, wasn't it?" Sheppard said with a fiendish smirk at McKay.
McKay sniffed. Then he asked Richard, a cagey gleam in his eye, "So what were you doing with Sheppard anyway?"
Richard had prepared for this question carefully. There were principles, and then there was foolhardiness. Plus it appeared Zelenka planned to keep his secret. It occurred to him that this secrecy was probably why he hadn't known about the device in the first place.
"Playing chess," Richard said, calmly folding his hands.
McKay rolled his eyes and said to no one in particular, "Leave it to Woolsey to turn a highly advanced sex toy into a chess machine."
He picked it up. Doctor Zelenka held out his hand, giving McKay a reproachful look.
"What? I'm not going to keep it," McKay snapped, holding it closer to his chest. But Zelenka's hand remained outstretched, insistent. With a heavy sigh, McKay reluctantly released it. "Fine. But I'd like to know why Elizabeth kept it in her bedroom."
"Thanks for that image, McKay," Sheppard said.
"You--" McKay pointed at Sheppard. "--are still in trouble, buster."
Zelenka placed the device in a paper bag and folded it shut. "I think this ought to be sent to Area 51. For further study."
Sheppard stayed behind as the meeting adjourned, watching McKay leave, heaving a petulant, frustrated sigh.
"It wasn't what McKay thinks," he complained to Richard. "I mean, it was, but it wasn't, you know?" Sheppard scrunched his face in a cringe. "It was like … getting a ten dollar whore, but it's someone you know."
"Yes," Richard breathed. Then added, "I mean, I can well imagine."
Sheppard turned to him, pupils darkening with sudden understanding. He seemed to pause, going still, eyes scanning Richard. After a few dates Richard knew this was Sheppard's assessing face, the one he made while planning his chess game, attempting to predict Richard's next move.
Richard considered this. Although his relationship with Sheppard hadn't been real, he'd had a trial run, hadn't he? And as they said, practice made perfect.
"On the lighter side," Richard said, stunned that he was being this bold. Internally, his instincts clamored for retreat. His heart pounded. "The Daedalus has brought our latest shipment. Including our personal items."
"Cool," Sheppard said. "I bet my new surfboard's here. I'm upgrading," he added.
Richard gave a stilted laugh. "Well, surf's up," he said, raising his hand in an imaginary toast. "And I just received a 2005 Prieur Montrachet," he said with a twinkle, "If you'd care to share it." As if Sheppard would turn down a Prieur Montrachet.
"Um, yeah. Thanks, but I'm more a six pack and football kind of guy," Sheppard said, eyes going a little wide. He thumbed over his shoulder as he rose and walked backward a few steps. "Besides, McKay would kill me if I didn't—"
"Sheppard!" McKay's familiar snappish voice cut across the room. He hovered in the doorway. "The Daedalus shipment's here and you didn't tell me? What are you trying to hide?"
"Why, I would never hide a Wii from you," Sheppard said with a smirk, crossing the room.
"You bought me a Wii?" McKay said, his eyes lighting with hope.
"Nope," Sheppard said, bouncing in place with a broad smile.
McKay's face fell. He turned and headed in the direction of the loading bay. "Fine. Then see if I bought two souped up remote control cars -- with studded rubber tires for extra traction."
"You didn't." Sheppard lit up. "You did!" He followed McKay closely, jogging a step. "Did you get the flame throwers like we talked about?"
"No, that's only workable in theory and anyway, I couldn't get the stainless steel parts," McKay said, one finger raised. "But see if I let you touch them now. I'm going to invite Zelenka instead." He turned smug. "You can watch us with your nose pressed to the window."
"Only little children play with toys." Zelenka brushed by them as he returned, his chin raised, looking down his nose at McKay.
Richard watched Sheppard and McKay leave, arms sinking to his sides as the last vestige of the Sheppard he'd known evaporated. His favorite parts, as it happened. He'd thought the fantasy had been at least based upon the real John Sheppard.
One possibility had never occurred to him, although it did now as he watched the two of them side by side, talking animatedly, standing too close and too comfortably in each other's space. He'd never imagined that Sheppard might be taken.
~*~*~
Richard stayed behind, elbows on the conference table. He needed a quiet moment to recover from the excitement of the last few days.
Someone cleared his throat and Woolsey felt a tugging motion under his feet. He picked his feet up as a cord slithered away, looked up and found Zelenka disassembling the laptop network they'd created for the meeting. He was winding cords in his hand.
"Thank you," Richard said.
"No, no, don't mention it. There is no need to air our private matters," Zelenka said. He tapped his head and smiled. "They are kept in here, in the dark, for a reason." He looked down, continuing to wind the cords somewhat more slowly. "We need to watch each other's backs, yes?"
Our. We. Richard weighed the implications of that phrasing in his mind. Possibilities crowded his mind. It couldn't hurt, could it? After all, he'd been bold enough to make a pass at Colonel Sheppard just moments ago. He finally gathered his courage and said, diffidently, "You… you wouldn't happen to play chess, would you?"
"I know the rules," Zelenka said, choosing his words with exaggerated care. But his eyes glittered like a true chess shark. "And a little bird tells me that you have a 2005 Prieur Montrachet--?"
"Ah, only to be shared with those who appreciate its value."
"I'm sure I've lost my palate," Zelenka admitted. "The wines from M38-527 are good but…."
"Not the same, no. I suspect it's the wood they use in the barrels."
"Too acid?" Zelenka suggested.
"That's my guess." Richard nodded sagely. "I also suspect, Doctor Zelenka, that I'm about to lose a chess match."
Zelenka blushed, staggering a little into Richard's personal space. Richard had never been a stupid man. A man inflicted with McKay's temperament on daily basis would thirst for even the slightest praise.
"Please," Doctor Zelenka said. Always a gentleman. "Call me Radek."