A/N: I once again find myself in the position of thanking ladygris for her help with a story. She is an endless source of ideas, providing a word or a comment that sparks an idea within my much older brain that eventually becomes a full-fledged tale. And on the odd occasion, she provided the voice of a friend willing to laugh at the absurdities we encounter on a daily basis.
Again, this is not my usual type of story, and it was written with the encouragement of the aforementioned ladygris.
Gracias,
~Sandy
Not a Hero
Chapter 1
Waste Not Fresh Tears
John Sheppard lay on the hard dry desert ground bleeding profusely from several gunshot wounds, not the least of which was the one in his chest near his heart.
Heart, ha! I don't have a heart. Just a muscle that moves blood throughout my body and that's about to stop. McKay was right. It is amazing how one incident can entirely alter the course of your life.
His strength came to an end in the intense heat from the still burning trailer parts scattered all over the area. As his consciousness wavered, the reality of his life invaded his thoughts. Unable to turn away, he relived each and every bad choice, disappointment and regret, personal and professional, since the day he was born. As the last of his strength dissolved, he thought he heard the distant rumble of vehicles coming closer but dismissed it as his imagination.
Gettin' dark. Oh, crap. That's probably thunder. Sonofabitch picked a great time to rain. I should get up and get my umbrella outta the trunk…if I had an umbrella 'n my trunk wasn't so far away. Maybe I should just…take a li'l nap or somethin'.
Blackness crept in from the edges of his vision like a Gulf Coast oil slick until there was nothing. Nada. Zilch. Just a pinpoint of light in the center then it was gone as well.
~~O~~
Engines shut down and a back hatch opened to allow Jennifer Keller and her assistants to go to Sheppard. "He's alive…barely." Ana brought a stretcher while Jennifer and Derek slipped a cervical collar around the detective's neck. They rolled him onto a backboard and he was lifted carefully onto the stretcher by the team of one man and two women. Moments later, other vehicles arrived, SUVs with blacked out windows as well as armored and radiation-protected trucks.
Jennifer turned to inform Rodney of Sheppard's condition and found him in the car going through what looked like junk from the glove compartment but at one time had undoubtedly been very important to the vehicle's owner. When done, he ejected the CD from the player, glanced at the title, scoffed and handed it to Jennifer then opened the black valise. He wasn't surprised to find it full of money.
"Whatcha got there, Rodney?"
"There must be much more than the few thousand he told us about. Looks like the nightly take from the Bellagio." From his pocket he took a small device, a portable scanner the likes of which most of the residents of Earth had no idea existed. He waved it over the contents and the outside of the bag, the beeps telling him it was laden with radioactivity. "Definitely the property of the Wraith."
"What's Sheppard doing with it?" She scooped the CD case off the seat, snapped the silver disc in place and closed it hoping Rodney wouldn't ask why she was taking it. In the back seat was a rolled tube held with a rubber band. It and the CD obviously held some value for Sheppard or he wouldn't have taken them and nothing else when he made the decision to make a break for the border with the Wraith's cash.
Easing himself out of the car, Rodney signaled to his assistants. A man and woman wearing protective gear came forward and placed the bag and its contents into a radiation-proof container then carried it to the back of one of the black SUVs. "Woolsey spoke to his Captain. He'd turned in his badge and service weapon so it's not a stretch that he'd planned on moving to some tropical island that has no extradition treaty or diplomatic relations with the US. Not that it would have stopped us from bringing him back for prosecution." He brushed the dirt from his hands as he watched his people swarm over the area dressed in hazmat suits, beginning the cleanup. By midnight, there would be nothing left to show that anyone had died here aside from some lingering radioactivity.
"He'll have to pay a cancellation fee on his plane ticket." She had more to say, but her patient was ready for transport and she needed to be with him.
"He'll pay more than that. If he lives, he'll be spending the rest of his life in prison."
"But isn't the punishment for a category B felony one to ten?"
"What's your point?"
He said the words and she believed them. But she also heard the wheels spinning inside his head. That could be good or bad and she'd know which soon enough. They'd dated a few times and decided they'd be better off as friends. Best friends. She'd even gone with him to pick out the engagement ring when he was ready to propose to the woman who is now his wife.
"I guess I don't have one." Giving his shoulder a squeeze, she left him to his thoughts and climbed into the back of the cloaked Jumper. The hatch closed, lifted off and headed for their base of operations north-northeast of Las Vegas. The facility had an official name. They had a fabulous sign, assigned parking, an onsite health club and the usual mediocre cafeteria food. However, the staff, with tongue firmly in cheek, called it Area 52 because they thought it a step above Area 51.
~~O~~
The sensation of floating brought Sheppard to semi-consciousness. He tried to remove the oxygen mask but his strength was almost nonexistent. Blinking, he saw a vision surrounded by white light and a halo of blonde hair loose around her shoulders. I must be in heaven!
He tried to tell the angel someone had made a massive, huge, colossal mistake. He was scheduled to go the other way, but his tongue felt dry and too big for his mouth. She just smiled and spoke to him in soothing tones, her hand resting gently on his arm between the elbow and the wrist, the only part of him that didn't hurt. He didn't know what she was saying, but he'd lay here forever if she'd just continue to talk to him in that voice with that smile and those big brown eyes.
Rallying, he pulled the mask down and addressed the vision. She leaned close to catch his words and pink colored her cheeks. Shaking her head, she took hold of his hand while Derek replaced the mask once more. He curled his fingers around the much smaller ones and felt them grip tight as he surrendered his consciousness.
~~O~~
Dr. Derek Slater watched his boss and friend comforting the critically injured detective, something she was very good at. She leaned close when Sheppard spoke, his words making her blush.
"What he say?"
The color of her cheeks deepening, she pursed her lips. "Um, he said, 'I didn't know angels were so hot.'"
"Poor guy. He's delirious." Derek deadpanned.
"Ha-ha." She gave him a small shove and checked Sheppard's vitals on the hand-held scanner. "Considering what he's been through, it could be worse."
"Think we can save him?" Derek checked the pressure bandages on Sheppard's upper chest while Jennifer checked the ones on his abdomen.
"Maybe. I'll know more once we get inside."
The Jumper came to a soft landing inside the hangar. "We're here," their pilot, Ana Crawford informed them unnecessarily. She and Derek carefully eased the stretcher out the opened hatch and rolled it toward the door that would take them to the Infirmary.
As instructed by the chief medical officer on the very short flight, a surgical team had been prepped. Sheppard was immediately wheeled down the hall and into a room to get him ready. With the authority of a general, Jennifer issued orders that were already being carried out before the words had finished leaving her mouth. Her people were the best of the best and they showed it every minute of every day. Here and in Pegasus.
As Sheppard's ruined clothing and personal effects were removed, a nurse inventoried, bagged and tagged everything as ordered by Mr. Woolsey, with one exception. A somber-faced agent waited outside to take the items to the forensics lab. Behind their masks, the faces of the staff were grave. Sheppard's prognosis for actually surviving the surgery was poor and he had even less of a chance of still being alive by morning.
Entering the surgical theater, her hands held high awaiting gloves Jennifer dried her hands as she said a silent prayer for the man on the table. In her experience, it couldn't hurt and from what little she knew of him, this man could use it more than most.
San Francisco Police Department
Mounted Patrol, Golden Gate Park
It was quiet in the park for a Saturday afternoon. Kids and adults were playing games, dogs ran around chasing Frisbees, each other or their owners. Others were reading or sitting under a tree with their Netbooks. A few were even asleep, books, hats, arms or shirts covering their eyes.
Sergeant Evan Lorne and Sergeant James Anthony rode their horses side by side through the park, the sun dappling the sidewalks and grass. His normally talkative partner had been unusually quiet while on patrol these last few months. After trying to engage him in conversation on more than a few occasions, he finally gave up and just let him be. Sooner or later the real Anthony would come out again and things would be back to normal. Maybe.
Lorne and Anthony had been partners on this beat for two years. They'd never been as friendly as most teams were though they did have each other's back in an emergency. Lorne had been invited to the Anthony home on most of the major holidays though he didn't always go. Well, up until this past six months when no invitations had come at all which wasn't surprising as his wife had been killed in a car accident and it had been she that had issued all the invitations. Not long after that, Anthony had been out sick for three weeks and that's when everything had changed.
By mutual unspoken agreement, they brought their steeds to a stop. An all-black Tennessee Walker for Lorne and a brown Clydesdale mix for Anthony.
"Lorne." Anthony's voice intruded on his thoughts.
"Yeah."
The taller dark-haired man dismounted and handed the reins over to his partner. Pointing his chin in the direction of the restaurant, he patted his pocket. "Coffee and a cruller. Want something?"
"I'm good." He watched Anthony cross the short expanse of grass, weaving between the denizens of the park to reach path, and jog to the diner. "Dispatch, Twenty-Kilo six and seven, we are ten-seven at The Diner."
"Roger that, Twenty-Kilo six and seven."
His eyes and ears were on the surrounding area alert for any sign of trouble even though technically they were off duty. What he didn't see was his partner exiting through the side door, glance once in his direction, and slip around to the back where he was hidden from view.
Area 52
Infirmary ICU
In the observation area above the surgical theater, Woolsey and Zelenka watched as Jennifer and her team performed miracles. No words had been exchanged between the men the entire time. They'd come and gone, taking turns keeping watch or standing silently together.
"That's it. Let's close him up." Jennifer's relieved tones reached them through the intercom as she looked up at them, only her eyes visible above the mask. "I've done all I can. We'll know more in twenty-four hours."
Woolsey nodded, shared a grim look with Zelenka and left. The Czech lingered a few minutes, watching the nurses cover the incision and wheel the unconscious Sheppard to Recovery. Though he'd only met the detective on the one occasion, he'd sensed that there was much more to the man than he wanted people to know. Somewhere deep inside, he was more like the other Sheppard than he knew as illustrated by the fact that he could have just left with the money, never looked back and no one would have known until the sky filled with Wraith Hiveships. That he did come back spoke of a part of himself that he'd kept hidden, only letting it see the light of day on rare occasions, like today.
Zelenka covered a yawn and followed in the OAB agent's footsteps. Now came the waiting.
Twenty-Seven Hours Later
The soft beeps of the monitor woke Sheppard bringing with it other sounds as well as voices speaking softly nearby. Doogie Howser's sister and the phony FBI agent. Keller and Woolsey. Yeah, that was it. Straining his hearing, he was finally able to distinguish words from background noises.
"…can't do anything more. We can make him comfortable, but that's it."
"I can't think what McKay sees in him."
A small almost musical laugh. "He must have been very persuasive if he convinced you to take a chance on some 'nobody detective'."
Sheppard didn't take offense at the description of himself and his job. He was a nobody detective. Or used to be. He was as sure as he could be that he'd be dead this time tomorrow.
"Yeah, well he made a very good case." Sheppard could almost feel the derision this Woolsey guy had for him. "Are you sure there's nothing more you can do?"
"Mmm. Maybe…" She sounded pensive and he liked the way her voice sounded when it made that mmm sound.
"You have an idea?"
Keller's voice got a faraway sound and Woolsey's seemed hopeful, though why, Sheppard had no idea. What was he to them that they'd work this hard to save someone who was lost so many years ago? And why would McKay go to bat for him?
"Yes, but we'll need help from the mountain."
There was a pause. "How can they help with what is ostensibly a medical issue?"
"I'll tell you on the way. You up for a quick road trip, Mr. Woolsey?"
Now Jennifer's voice held excitement. He could even hear the smile, wished he could see it. She hadn't smiled when they met the first time over that dead body though she had sort of smiled when he and McKay had seen her in the hall after he'd seen a live Wraith face-to-face.
"Always, but why not just call?"
"She can't hang up on me if I'm standing in front of her."
"Why would she hang up on you? I thought you were friends."
"We are. Which is how I know that she'll be more responsive to a personal appeal."
"And she'll see us why?" Woolsey sounded reasonable and John could almost hear Keller's shrug. The man sighed heavily, knowing he was beat. "Okay. Lead the way."
"The Daedalus is in orbit so it'll be a quick back and forth."
Daedalus? What the hell is that? Sheppard listened to their footsteps fade, Keller's lighter and quicker than the agent's, and thought about what they'd said. Was there hope for him? If he'd been given a choice one way or the other, he'd have told them to let him die.
But apparently it wasn't up to him anymore. Fate, in the form of a beautiful doctor and a super-secret need-to-know agency had intervened and now he'd be forced to go on living this sorry excuse for a life another thirty or forty years. Yeah, he had a death wish, or thought he had until the alien had tried to kill him. After that first shot he'd dived over the hood of his car looking for cover, any cover.
Well, John, what do ya wanna do? Make up your mind. If you wanna die, die and stop screwing around! If you want to live, live! Stop just existing. Live or die. Do good or do nothing.
I don't care what McKay says dammit! I'm not a hero.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well, those are the choices, asshole. Live. Die. Good. Bad. Pick one from column A and one from column B and get on with it!
He relocated the conversation he'd overheard to the back of his mind along with the one he'd just had with himself. They obediently dwindled away to be replaced by Johnny Cash singing Solitary Man, the soundtrack of his life. He was a solitary man. And this wasn't his first ride on life's Ferris wheel. He knew the score and his side was coming up a big goose egg. Just like always.
Sheppard let sleep claim him without choosing. Didn't matter. The choices would be made for him and he would let it happen.
When the nurse came in to check his vitals and replace his IV, she was surprised to see two small tears coming from the outer corners of her patient's eyes.
~~O~~
Pulling off her gloves, Ana Crawford brushed a hand through Sheppard's unruly hair. She'd tried combing it when he'd come out of surgery but it refused all attempts to tame it. Maybe once it was washed… He'd also been shaved and she thought he was quite handsome, boyish in a way, without the three-day growth on his face that had patches of gray.
One hand rested on his stomach, the one with the IV, and the other, with the oxygen sensor, on his chest near his collarbone as if he were waiting for her to leave so he could remove the mask. Opening the bedside table, she took out the gold chain he'd been wearing around his neck when they brought him in, running her thumb over the shape of the Celtic cross before tucking it into his right hand and closing his fingers over it.
She made notes on his chart and as she left the room, her hand found and gripped the dog tags she wore in remembrance of her husband who was killed in a fight with the Wraith over three years ago. Her footsteps muffled by the covers over her shoes, she went down the hall to the office Derek shared with Jennifer to give him a verbal report.
"There's no improvement in his vitals and he still hasn't regained consciousness."
Derek shook his head sadly. "Damn. Continue to monitor every fifteen and call me if there's change in either direction." He pushed away from the desk. "I'm making a run to the Commissary. Want me to bring you something?"
"Pass. I'm gonna get back. Someone should be there when he wakes."
The brown eyes that looked at her did so with skepticism. "When? How very optimistic of you. Not that that's a bad thing. I've seen patients much worse off come back better than ever. Of course the opposite is true too." She turned away with a nod, coming back when he called her name. "Ana? Thanks. I'm sure he appreciates the great care you're giving him."
"Oh, he does."
"Yeah? How do you know?"
Ana smirked at him. "A woman knows these things. FYI - He also appreciates Dora's special brand of attention at night."
Derek chuckled, shaking his head, and turned left as she went right. Back in the ICU, she dragged a chair up next to the only occupied bed. If her mom were here, she'd say something about Sheppard being another of her strays. As a kid, she was always bringing home cats, dogs, hamsters, birds, whatever and nursing them back to health.
Taking her Kindle from the bedside table, she pulled up the novel she'd been trying to finish for almost a month, one eye on the monitor beside Sheppard's bed.
TBC