author's note: I know, I know I really should be working on all of my other stories. And I will! Just as soon as I get inspired to work on those. But this story is complete so there should be no long waits! That's something, right? I'm working on a new philosophy (one I should have started with) and that is to fininsh writing a story before I start posting. That should keep the chapters coming pretty regularly instead of having to wait for months at a time for me to write the next one.

Anyway, this story is my answer to the challenge that I posted a little bit ago. It honestly was the first idea that I came up with and I am very proud of this story. I think it's probably one of my best. However, I can't seem to write one shots so this is 5 chapters and an epilogue. I will most likely post every Friday. It really depends on the response this first chapter gets. If a lot of you like it, I may just put the next chapter up sooner (hint hint ;)

Now, I will shut up cuz I know you didn't come here to listen to me go on and on and on. So, without further ado here is the story!

disclaimer: I don't own Stargate SG-1, Stargate Atlantis or Somewhere I Belong by Linkin Park.

Somewhere I Belong

Chapter 1

Hollow and Alone

When this began

I had nothing to say

And I'd get lost in the nothingness inside of me

John Sheppard sighed as he entered his sparse, empty apartment. It was times like this that made him miss his job, even if all he did was ferry people back and forth to Antarctica. At least then he wouldn't be alone. The reason he found himself at home was because a bad storm had rolled in making it impossible to fly. The storm had, although he would never admit it, given him some much needed time off.

He finally moved away from the door, kicking his shoes off and tossing his duffle onto the floor before flopping onto his leather sofa. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, flipping idly through the channels. It didn't take him long to discover that there was nothing on worth watching. He finally settled on the weather channel for nothing more than background noise. He glanced once more around his apartment searching for something to do.

John was the type of person that got antsy when he had nothing to do and especially if he was bored. And unfortunately his apartment didn't exactly offer up many options. Of course it would probably help if he had more than a TV, coffee table, and a couch. Not for the first time the thought crossed his mind that maybe he should liven the place up. And just like every other time he shoved the thought away knowing that he wouldn't. He never did.

He had always found it hard to make a place his own, to actually settle down enough to feel like he had a place that he could call home. Of course that probably had something to do with growing up in foster care. That and he'd never had a home before, so why should he start now? And this was why he hated being stuck at home with nothing to do. It always brought up some rather unpleasant thoughts and many questions that always remained unanswered.

He had been through some traumatic experiences, especially since joining the Air Force. But even the worst of those couldn't compare to the emptiness he felt when he came 'home.' It always reminded him that he had no one. All his life he'd been alone . . . okay, so maybe that wasn't exactly true.

There was this memory he had; well at least he thought it was a memory. For all he knew it could just be something that his imagination had conjured up. But this memory (or whatever it was), was all he had. It was fuzzy and faded, more like a dream than anything else, but there were certain things that stood out.

He could clearly remember the feel of grass beneath his feet and the sun shining on his face. There was another young boy his age and they were playing in a sand pit. But he couldn't quite make out the boy's features. The only thing that really stood out was dark blonde hair and deep blue eyes. His dream-like memory was also filled with laughter, his, the other boy's, and someone else's. There would always be two people there watching over them, a man and a woman and that is where the other laughter came from, but he could never make out any details about them. The only thing that he really knew for certain was that he felt safe and happy and loved.

John usually tried not to think about that memory or dream or whatever it happened to be. Mainly it was because he had no idea if it was even real or not. Most days he wished that it wasn't because if it was then that would mean that he had a family out there that he didn't know and who had, for some reason, given him up. And on those days that he did wish it was real, that's what bothered him the most. And that, of course, always led to those unanswered questions.

What happened? Who were his parents? Why had they given him up? Were they even still alive? And the other boy in his memory, did that mean he had a bother? Or maybe a childhood friend? And he could go on all day listing off questions. In fact he had before. He'd halfway filled a small note pad with questions before forcing himself to stop.

Shaking his head to force those thoughts away, John rose from the couch and headed for the kitchen. Of course even the slight distraction of his trek to the kitchen on a mission to get a beer from the fridge wasn't enough to keep those thoughts at bay. They were still there fighting to come back full force, just like always. And this was why he always hated it when he was alone where he couldn't help but think about this stuff. It would be oh so easy to get lost in his thoughts and that was somewhere that he never wanted to get lost in.

He was about three steps from the fridge when there was a knock at the door. He sighed in relief and practically ran to the door almost tripping over his duffle in his haste to reach it. He easily caught his balance, smoothed down his shirt, cleared his throat, and then yanked the door open.