Title: Paying His Dues (Vegas)
Author: ltcoljsheppard
Rating: PG
Word count: 1887
Summary: Episode 5.19, "Vegas", a missing scene.
Disclaimer: Stargate: Atlantis characters, logos, license, etc. are owned by someone else, like MGM, Sci Fi channel, NBC, and various PTB at Bridge Studios. I just borrow them to do them right and add onto the incomplete stories the paid writers were so good at giving us.
A/N: Although I do give kudos to Robert C. Cooper for this very fine episode for Sheppard, too bad he was only given 43 minutes to make it work as well as it did. These little additions are simply written to help explain away some of the in-between stuff we didn't get to see. I give all characters back after each story though, until I need them again.
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NIGHT TIME. PLANET HOLLYWOOD.
Detective Sheppard took his leave from the poker tables around 1:45 a.m. and headed out of Planet Hollywood's casino area alone. As usual.
He was always alone. Day or night.
A solitary man. He lived alone. He worked alone.
More by design than by choice, he would say.
Others would say it was by his own choice. But when fate deals a man a heavy hand, his choices aren't always clear cut. The bluff isn't always obvious.
So he trotted down the steps carrying a rolled up paper bag and headed toward the red Camaro waiting loyally at the curb when a voice called out his name. He slowed his pace as he turned toward the night shadows near the side of the building.
"Hey, Sheppard," greeted the man, as he stepped out of the darkness with his partner and another, unknown, man.
"Urbanski?" Sheppard inquired, unsure, even as he backed up a few steps reflexively.
"Yeah, it's me."
"What's up?" John asked. He swallowed thickly and dropped his chin, but kept his eyes on the three strong arms.
He owed Mikey a lot of money and Carl Urbanski was Mikey's number one debt collector.
"You know why I'm here," Carl told him, although his tone sounded a bit sorrowful. "You know I like you, Sheppard. You're okay. But Mikey wants his money, dude."
"Yeah, I know," John told him, glancing at the other two. He knew Frankie, Carl's smaller partner and Sheppard gave him a nod. Frankie returned a sad grin before John's eyes fell on the third man. "Who's that with you?" he asked.
"New guy," Urbanski told him. "He's in training, so to speak. You won't be seeing him again… just for tonight."
"Oh… okay," John backed up to the passenger side of his car as the three men approached him casually.
"You know the routine," Carl mentioned and John swallowed.
"Yeah," Sheppard replied and tossed the small paper bag into the front seat through the open window. Reaching into the front pocket of his jeans, John fished out his police badge and shoved it into the glove box beside his hand gun. Closing the glove compartment he turned back toward the three men.
"C'mon," Carl gestured with one hand and held his arm out as if the two men were the best of friends. The worst part of this job was that Carl actually liked John Sheppard and hated making him pay his debt this way. But the two men had the routine down to where Sheppard would pay his debt to Mikey, but perhaps not as severely as Urbanski could make him.
John stepped toward them and Frankie and New Guy moved to his left to make space for him. Carl put his arm around Sheppard's shoulders and walked him to the dark alley way behind a nearby building.
"You know the drill," Carl told him as he left Sheppard standing in a chosen spot and the other two men joined him, standing side by side like a firing squad. John licked his bottom lip and then bit down on it as he looked at the three men. His expression made Carl want to walk away, but he knew if he didn't take care of this debt Mikey would send someone else. Sheppard was better off with him and he knew it.
As John stood in the dark alley looking at the three men, Carl stepped forward and Sheppard braced himself for the hit. He doubled over as the air was forced from his lungs and Carl held him up as John's head pressed against his belly. He gave him a moment to catch his breath and as Sheppard began to straighten again, Carl offered quietly to him, "Sorry," and planted another sledgehammer punch to the detective's belly.
Urbanski stepped back and Frankie stepped forward holding a wooden club. John gasped for air and tried to straighten up as the smaller man waited. As soon as Sheppard was standing as straight as he could Frankie pulled a face that told John to expect a hit… he did. The club was swung and landed across his left side and Sheppard dropped to his knees with a painful groan.
Frankie ended his turn with a heavy jab to the kidney's that would keep the cop limping for a few hours. Then New Guy stepped forward on his own and pushed past Frankie. Before Carl could move to stop him, New Guy reached down and pulled Sheppard to his feet forcefully and held him there with one large hand fisted in his lapel.
He pulled back a big, meaty fist and snarled at John. Sheppard's eyes went wide as Carl lurched forward. Both John and Carl shouted out at the same time.
"Not in the face!"
It was too late though as the large knuckles caught John in the left eye, a heavy gold ring leaving a bloody laceration high on his cheek beneath his eye. Carl pulled the New Guy off and Frankie pushed him backward as Urbanski grabbed onto John. He inspected the wound carefully in the dim light of the nearby streetlights as the detective panted for air after the physical exertion.
"I don't think it needs stitches," Carl assured him. "Sorry about that." Behind them John could hear Little Frankie reaming out the New Guy for going against their protocol when it comes to cops. New Guy was apologizing heatedly, but didn't sound that sorry to be honest. "You okay?" Carl asked him and John nodded wearily.
"Yeah," he answered.
Carl pulled him up away from the wall he'd been leaning heavily on. "Come on. We'll get you back to your car." He assisted John back to the curb and let him lean against his car for a moment. Frankie kept New Guy at a distance and John looked at Urbanski with those sorrowful hazel eyes.
"Here, take this to Mikey," John told him and reached into the front seat to snag the paper bag. He handed it to Carl, who looked at him curiously as he unrolled it and looked inside.
"Sheppard!" he exclaimed, looking at a couple thousand dollars at the bottom of the bag. "Why didn't you give this to me when we approached you?"
John shrugged and dabbed at his cheek with a hanky from his back pocket.
"Why'd you make me do that to you?" Carl demanded to know and John ignored the question. "Sheppard?"
John just looked at Urbanski and Carl finally nodded. He understood. He knew there was something going on with Detective Sheppard, deep inside, that the guy just purposely seemed to punish himself, or had others do it for him. Carl wondered what in the world he'd done that he felt he actually deserved to be beaten up for.
"I'll give this to Mikey," Carl assured him and John nodded his thanks. "You okay? Need help getting in?" he asked, pointing at the car.
John shook his head. "No, I'm fine," he said and walked gingerly around the vehicle to the driver's side. Opening the door he carefully slid himself into the front seat and shut the door. He dropped his full weight against the seat as he tried to prepare for the drive.
About twenty minutes later someone nudged him hard and he opened his eyes, trying to focus on who was shoving him.
"Hey, asshole, move it along. You can't sleep here," the unknown man ordered. "Come on, get out of here."
John fished out his keys and found the ignition. He sat up gingerly and put the car in gear, heading away from the hustling downtown area.
~ * ~ * ~
The next afternoon, Sheppard sat at his desk looking over the latest case in a string of homocides when Captain Hendricks came into his office trailed by another man in a suit.
"Sheppard, this is Agent Woolsey, FBI," Hendricks said, introducing the suited man. John barely gave them notice though as he fingered the folder in front of him.
Agent Woolsey walked toward his desk, holding his hand out for Sheppard to shake. "Nice to meet you."
John looked up at Hendricks, without acknowledging the FBI agent at all. The fresh laceration on his cheek, just below his eye, looked raw and had barely stopped bleeding. He probably should've looked into getting a stitch but then he'd have questions to ignore from the friendly nurses at the local emergency department.
"What the hell happened to your eye?"
John ignored the question. That was the last thing he wanted to tell his superior, much less with an FBI agent standing in front of him. "This case moved jurisdiction?" he asked, wondering if his case had been yanked out from under him.
"Not yet," Hendricks assured him before Woolsey interjected.
"I'm not at liberty to discuss our interests at this time, but I'd appreciate your co-operation," he told Detective Sheppard.
John regarded him for a moment and then gave a slight nod. Dropping the photo in his hands back onto the open folder, he leaned back in his chair. "Well, I've got nothing," he admitted, barely resisting the urge to throw his hand in the air to emphasize his lack of progress.
"I'm surprised at that, Detective. The victims are turning up much more frequently. This is obviously a progression," the agent told him and John simply regarded him seriously without a word.
"First few bodies were buried," Capt. Hendricks offered in place of Sheppard's glare. "We only found them because coyotes dragged one onto the 564."
As Hendricks informed Woolsey of the initial aspects of the case, Sheppard's Blackberry began to buzz. He lifted it up to see a text message from the coroner waiting for him. As Hendricks continued to speak with the FBI agent John read the message.
"Now they're just being dumped out in the open for the vultures."
Woolsey listened to the police captain's information as he watched Sheppard closely, as he read the report coming over his phone. "So, is that more careless or more bold?" he asked.
His question, again, was ignored by Detective Sheppard who tossed the phone back down onto the desk when he was finished. He looked up at the two men standing in front of him, focusing his attention on Woolsey. "Somebody wanna tell me why the Coroner's report on the latest victim shows no signs of radioactive... Umm…" John paused, at a loss for the word he was looking for, and gestured toward Woolsey as if asking him to supply it. "What do you call it?"
"Isotopes," Woolsey inserted and then added, "I assume because there weren't any found."
John stood up without a response to that and grabbed his jacket up from the back of his chair. Walking over to Woolsey he looks at him pointedly, up close.
"Well, there were on the first seven," he informed the agent, letting the man know that he's not fooled. He steps past the man and heads for the door, leaving the two men standing in his office as he heads down the hallway.
"Where are you goin'?" the captain calls out after him, realizing Sheppard's about to get himself in deep.
"Gonna go see a nurse," John told him without looking back.
End//