Decision

Missing scene from "Rising"

The setting sun warmed his face. John stretched his legs out and leaned back, the soft grass cushioning his palms. Letting his head fall back, John closed his eyes and let his mind wander. Cars passed over the bridge next to him, the hum of their engines offset by the quiet lapping of water on the banks below him, as the slow moving river steadily followed its course.

Taking a deep breath, Sheppard tried to quiet his racing mind. Hours he'd sat there, pondering...debating the biggest decision of his life. John flexed his fingers, feeling the soft, spring grass bunch in his grasp. After 11 months in Antarctica and nothing but snow, John relished the nuances of spring. Green grass, chirping birds; a touch of warmth in the air, all caressed his senses, and Sheppard took pleasure in it, allowing the soft touch of nature to quiet his mind.

John smiled ironically. How did he end up here? Ever since saying yes to General O'Neill's request for him to join Dr. Weir's expedition...

He chuckled. Request wasn't exactly the right term. With the way the General had put it, how could he have said no? He shook his head. That was probably the whole point.

But any way he put it, John had still said yes, and from that moment, he'd felt as if his own life was out of his hands. Leaving Antarctica almost immediately after his encounter with the Ancient Outpost, John found himself here, in Colorado, waiting to leave on a mission where he may never come back.

The small hotel room the Air Force had arranged for him, was stifling. Combined with the sudden and rapid change to his life...

Sudden hell, his life had been turned upside down from the moment he'd sat down in that damn Control Chair. Dozens of times in the last couple days, John wondered exactly why he'd sat in it in the first place, but he'd come to realize there wasn't a why. On impulse, he'd just done it. John chuckled, in spite of himself. He'd just wanted to sit down. That was all. He shook his head. How could he have known?

Buried up to his nose in mission reports and classified information on the Stargate program, he'd had enough. John decided to take a walk, and what was to be a short diversion to clear his head, had turned into an all day event. Drawn to the steady flow of the river, he'd sat down on the bank, and hadn't moved for hours.

Why was he doing this anyway? What did he care about expeditions to another galaxy or mutant genes or Stargates? All he wanted to do was fly. That was all he'd ever wanted to do...that's why he was in the Air Force. Flying was his first love. But somewhere deep inside, an insatiable curiosity for the unknown whispered almost seductively at him. Sheppard sighed, his opinion on the whole matter once again changing. Seeing himself ying and yang back and forth on the issue made him feel like he was watching a bad tennis match. What would Weir's team find on the other side of the Stargate? Curiosity he couldn't deny spread through him and Sheppard realized that General O'Neill had probably read him better than he'd thought. He couldn't help but wonder what they'd find in the Pegasus Galaxy.

Sheppard pulled his legs up and rested his arms on his knees. Could he leave his life here behind? Maybe forever? A wry smile pulled at his mouth as he shook his head. What life here? As far as the military was concerned, he'd pretty much botched his career from the moment he'd blown off orders in Afghanistan. All through his military life, he'd moved from post to post, never laying down roots. Hell, he didn't even have a house to sell. So what was keeping him from going? Family? John's smile faded. All he had left was his dad...and they weren't exactly on the best of terms. John swallowed hard. Still...he was his dad and deep down, John loved him. He shook his head again. Probably why their strained relationship bugged him so much.

No one can make us madder than the people we love...his mother's words, spoken softly a few years back on the heels of yet another fight between John and his dad, stuck with him. John chucked sarcastically. Considering how pissed off he was at his father, he must love him quite a bit.

He had a deep respect for his father. Marcus Sheppard had a distinguished career, and in many ways, John had tried to follow in his footsteps. But they were different, his dad and him, and those differences, most of the time, made it hard for them to relate. Follow your orders. How many times had his dad said that to him? That was okay...most of the time, but how could he follow orders when deep down he knew they were wrong? John sighed. He didn't like being at odds with his dad, but they just couldn't see eye to eye. His mother had disagreed with him. You're more alike then either of you will admit. She'd told him, the same stubborn streak runs through both of you. John smiled, fond memories of his mother washing over him. She'd always found a way to smooth things over between them and single-handedly kept John and his father on speaking terms, but when she'd died, the buffer zone between them had died with her.

Frustrated, John berated himself for letting his mind wander and once more focused on the choice before him...an issue that no matter how many times he turned it over in his mind, he couldn't decide on. Impatient and ready to be done with the whole problem, John reached into his pocket, fumbled with his loose change, and pulled out a quarter. Heads: he'd go. Tails: He'd stay. Simple enough.

Flipping the quarter in the air, John deftly caught it and slapped it down on the top of his free hand. He stared at his knuckles covering the coin for a moment, unsure if he wanted to know the outcome. He closed his eyes, pulled his hand away and then stared at the quarter.

Tails.

John pursed his lips. The outcome of his coin toss didn't give him the satisfaction he'd hoped it would. Every part of him defied the fate chance had given him. Wrongness swept through him, and John realized he'd never had a choice in the first place. His gut was telling him to go...and his gut instinct had been right enough times, that John listened to it.

Abruptly the cloud of indecision lifted from him and for the first time in days a genuine smile formed on his mouth. Slowly, John stood. He stared at the quarter for a minute, before throwing it as hard as he could. He watched as it sailed over the river before dropping into its depths. The hell with chance. He turned, and slowly walked up the embankment, his stride full of purpose. One thing was for sure, his gut instinct told him this expedition wouldn't be boring.

And his gut was almost always right.

Author's Notes:

I always wondered what he was thinking as he sat on that bank and flipped a coin...

Standard disclaimer applies: I don't claim ownership to anything Stargate, I just like to play in the world sometimes :)

SGAFan