A/N: A short tag to Outcast, my first ever attempt at a episode tag. Let me know what you think. Thanks to Alipeeps the wonder-beta.
Outcast by Pilgrim Soul
It was like stepping back in time. The house had barely changed since he had last stepped over its threshold. The décor was understated, the house simple and homely in a way only the very wealthy can afford. John half expected to see his father sitting in the armchair, paper work spread out across the coffee table, the phone stuck to his ear. That had been his idea of taking it easy. Dave was no different if seemed, they'd been in the same house as one another for all of five minutes before his brother had taken a business call and left him to wander around the old house full of unwelcome memories. It had been hard enough to come here at all; he didn't need extra time alone to think. John walked over to the window and looked out toward the stables. A bay mare was out in the paddock. The horses were the one thing he had missed and he felt a longing to be out there putting the mare through her paces rather than stuck in this claustrophobic room surrounded by reminders of his past mistakes.
John jumped a little as he heard Dave step up behind him.
"The old place never changes does it?" he voiced John's thoughts.
"No. So, where are the kids?" John asked just to have something to say.
"With their mother." Something in the tone of his voice made John turn and look Dave in the face but his brother couldn't hold his gaze.
"You… separated?" John asked but he knew the answer before his brother nodded sadly. Dave sat down on the sofa. He leaned forward, his hands knitted together.
"It's been the best part of a year."
"I didn't know."
"Why would you? You weren't here." His voice was calm but there was no mistaking the bitterness that lay behind the words. John felt a the stab of remorse in his chest; just one more regret to add to the list, another ball of guilt to add to the knot in his stomach.
"I'm sorry. Really, you should have…"
"What? Given you a call?" There was that bitterness again.
"Look, I didn't come here to argue." He pulled his hands out of his pocket and sat down opposite Dave, leaning forward, subconsciously mirroring his brother's body language. "I came here to apologise. It was Dad's wake and the last thing in the world I wanted to do was start a fight. I didn't want to leave." A lie. Every moment of the wake had been excruciating; there were too many people, he felt trapped, as much of an alien as Ronon. When Ava had approached them he had almost been relieved but he lied to his brother because it seemed to be the right thing to say.
"Then why did you?"
"Because I had no choice." John emphasized every word hoping his brother would understand.
"No choice."
"Yeah. My job, it isn't 9 to 5. I can't just leave it behind in the office."
"And you think that's what I do? You know why she left me?" John was surprised by the sudden change in subject. "She said I put the business before her. She couldn't understand that it wasn't just about me, that I had people relying on me, responsibilities. You left. You led your own life but I stayed, I made the sacrifices. You think I never wanted to do other things? I've dedicated my life to the business, I've been practically running things for years. You're not the only one who has responsibilities John."
"The difference is when you make a mistake people lose money, when I screw up people die!" He hadn't meant to raise his voice but he couldn't help it; he knew he had made mistakes, hadn't always been as open as he could have been, but why could none of them understand? Dave sat upright, his body filled with tension; he looked away as he were though searching for something to say. "I know that you haven't had it easy and I'm sorry. You have no idea how much I wish I could go back and do things differently, but you're not the only one who made sacrifices. You think what I do is some kind of big adventure? I gave up my family, I lost my wife, I've watched my friends die and every time I take a life I sacrifice a little bit of my soul - so don't ever think I took the easy way out." John clenched his jaw, feeling the muscles in his face tremble beneath his skin as he willed himself not to cry. He hadn't meant to get emotional, he wasn't even sure where the words had come from. Why was he so bad at this? Why couldn't he just play nice, say and do all the right things?
A painful silence hung in the room; John dropped his head and fixed his gaze on a spot on the carpet, a tiny faded coffee stain. He imagined his father sitting in the armchair spilling his coffee during one of his agitated rants about politics or the state of the economy. He remembered his mother saying that his father shouldn't watch the news channels as one day they'd give him a heart attack.
"You know," Dave finally broke the silence, pulling John back to the here and now. His voice was quiet and calm but John couldn't bring himself to look at him. "You've never talked about it, not once."
"I couldn't."
"I'm not talking about the classified stuff, John. I'm talking about you, about what kind of life you lead - I don't even know who you are anymore."
"You're not the only one." His life had changed so fast during the last few years that sometimes he caught himself in the mirror and wondered who the guy staring back at him was. "Sometimes it'd be nice to just be John for a little while instead of Colonel Sheppard."
"That's what coming home is for. I know he wasn't always an easy man to get along with but he'd never have turned you away, John." John's hand came up to his face as he felt a traitorous tear escape. He wiped it from his cheek and swallowed back hard against the lump in his throat.
"I spent so many years being angry with him and now I'll never have the chance to say I'm sorry. I don't want to make the same mistake with you."
"Me either," Dave laughed suddenly. "Look at us; we're both as terrible at this as he was."
"Actually, I thought I was doing pretty well with the whole expressing my feelings thing." Everything had just crept up on him; the strain of the last week had been building up inside him and somewhere along the line he knew he had to ease the pressure. Better here than back home; he couldn't afford to break down there, too many people depended on him.
"For a Sheppard."
"Yeah, for a Sheppard. I don't know about you but I could use a drink." Dave stood up and walked across to the drinks cabinet; he pulled out a couple of heavy crystal whiskey tumblers and poured out two generous shots.
"Sounds like a plan," John agreed. He needed something to steady his nerves. Dave walked back across the room and John stood up to take his drink; they faced each other and Dave held up his glass.
"How about a toast?" He inclined his glass toward John. "To Dad."
John raised his own glass, touching the two tumblers together with a gentle chink.
"To Dad."