disclaimer: I don't own Atlantis, if only...
feedback: I love hearing from you, it makes me tingly all over.
ratings: K, I didn't even swear in this one, I should be rewarded.
A/N: I'm in the middle of writing an epic Atlantis novel (the sequel to The Bridge that many of you have asked for, but it's running away and I haven't been able to catch up with it yet) But just like Dave in The Bridge, who demanded I write a story from his perspective, Patrick Sheppard decided he needed one, too. Those Sheppard men can be very demanding and persuasive so I had to stop my billion word story and give Patrick his own story, But I told him he could only have a short one and he agreed that would be fine.
This takes place shortly after Conversion. The thought came to me while thinking about what Sheppard would write to the families of the two Marines who were killed while trying to get Iratus bug embryos to save Sheppard's life. And then what if...
.
.
.
A Letter From Pegasus
By kariesue
Patrick Sheppard was a very busy man and today was no exception, too much to do and not enough time. It seemed every day was like that. And everyone wanted him to solve their problems. Retirement was looking better and better. David was certainly capable of running the company on his own. It's too bad he had to, though. He had two sons. Don't go there unless you want to start that migraine up again.
He'd almost made it to his office when he saw a young man heading in his direction. He had to think for a minute to figure out who he was. Someone from accounting, he thought. Yes, his name was Walker, Wayne Walker. Patrick patted himself on the back for coming up with that so quickly. He had hundreds of employees in this building alone, he was lucky he could remember any of them.
Walker managed to catch up with him at his office door. "Mr. Sheppard, sir. I was wondering if you had a quick second."
"Of course, Wayne," he liked to address people by their first name to show familiarity with them. Seems you got more out of them when they thought you knew exactly who they were. "Is there a problem with this week's payroll?"
"No, sir." Walker seemed a bit reticent. "I hate to bother you. I know how busy you are, but I told my aunt and uncle I would ask you."
"Ask me what?" Sheppard wanted to know.
"Well, I'm not sure if you remember that I needed some time off a few weeks ago for a memorial service for my cousin." Walker stated. "I had to travel to Michigan and it took a few days. My cousin was a Marine killed in the line of duty."
Patrick didn't remember, that was too trivial for him to deal with, but he played along. "Yes, I'm sorry for your loss. How are your aunt and uncle doing?"
"It's been tough, but they're dealing with it the best they can. The reason I came to see you was because they recently got a letter from his CO. Not his immediate commanding officer but the Military Commander of the base where he's been stationed. His name is Sheppard and I've heard your other son is in the military and wondered if it was the same person."
Patrick drew in a breath but tried to keep it as subtle as possible. He gave a polite smile and said, "My son, John is in the Air Force, not the Marines."
Wayne took a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. "Yes, that's his name, John. And he's a Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force." Walker held the piece of paper up for Patrick to see.
He took the paper and glanced over it briefly. Sure enough it was written by Lt. Col. John Sheppard from the US Air Force. And there was John's familiar scrawl on the bottom of the page. Looking back at the man in front of him he responded, "Yes, this is my son. I recognize the very messy signature." He gave a small chuckle, but continued to hold onto the paper.
"Well, my aunt and uncle just wanted you to know that they really appreciated the letter and the nice things he said. It's helped them immensely in dealing with the loss." Walker paused and began again, "One thing that is bothering them, though, is that they never knew where Jake was stationed. It was very top secret stuff and even now after his death, nobody will tell them where he was or what he was doing. They were wondering, if indeed it was your son, if you could shed some light on where they've been stationed."
"I wish I could help you, son," Patrick replied regretfully for several reasons. "But I haven't really had any contact with John in a while. Apparently even Lt. Colonel's have to keep their parents in the dark."
"I understand, sir. Thank you, anyway. My aunt and uncle said they got a letter from Jake a few months back and he'd briefly mentioned how much he enjoyed working for the base commander. I guess he's not your traditional military type."
"No, John could never be called traditional in any sense of the word." Patrick held up the page and asked, "This is a copy, right?" At Wayne's nod, he continued, "Any chance I could keep this? John doesn't actually write to me."
"As the Military Commander, I imagine he must be pretty busy. Jake used to talk about how much responsibility those guys have."
"Yes, I'm sure that's it." Patrick said. "Convey my condolences to your family for their loss."
"I will, thank you, sir." And Wayne walked off down the hall.
Patrick walked into his office and sat behind his desk. He knew there were a thousand and one things he should be doing right now, but he needed to look more closely at this letter that was written by the son he'd hadn't seen in far too long. It was neatly typed with only the signature being handwritten.
.
.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Walker,
I am writing to give you my sincerest condolences on the death of your son, Jake. He was a fine soldier and outstanding Marine. His service and dedication to his country were unsurpassed.
As the Military Commander of the base, I oversee a few hundred men and women and Jake was one who always stood out. We'd worked together on numerous missions and I never worried when Jake had my back. He was someone I could always count on to be in the right place at the right time.
He died with honor and courage in the performance of his duties. He made the ultimate sacrifice, his life, and in doing so, saved mine. I will never forget that sacrifice or him. I want you to know that he will always be remembered by his brothers in arms.
I was lucky enough to get to know Jake on a personal level to some degree as well. He was fun and energetic and played a mean game of poker. I think I still owe him a few dollars.
He spoke often of his family back in the States and missed you terribly, but was steadfast in his desire to keep you safe. Know that his thoughts were always with you and he loved you very much. And he knew of and felt your love, even from so far away. I can assure you that this knowledge is vital to the emotional well being of soldiers so far from home, facing what we face every day.
I apologize for this letter coming much later than the news of his death, but I spent several weeks out of commission and was only recently cleared for active duty. But because of your son, I am alive and able to write it.
Jake will be posthumously awarded the Purple Heart and I am also recommending he receive the medal for Meritorious Service. Be proud of your son's accomplishments. I'm proud to have known and served with him.
Sincerely
Lt. Col. John Sheppard
U.S. Air Force
.
.
Patrick re-read the letter several times. The letter was not about John, but there was much he could learn written between the lines. He looked at the signature, Lieutenant Colonel. He'd known about John's most recent promotion, was even proud John had come so far. John hadn't told him, but he had his sources. Actually, John hadn't told him much over the past five years. The last information he'd gotten was John had been flying helicopters in Antarctica, part of a penance, he figured, for disobeying a direct order in Afghanistan. He should have been sorry about John's predicament, but he was actually relieved. He figured how much trouble or danger could he be in surrounded by mounds of ice and snow. He'd also gotten that information from his source. He was actually surprised that John had lasted this long in the military as he was never one for taking orders from anyone.
When his mother was alive, she had served as a sort of referee between the two of them, getting them to compromise. But after her death, John had seemed to rebel even more. Although if he were truthful, he may have tightened his control over John so much that the boy couldn't breathe. But he'd had such great plans for his youngest son.
His first born, David had always been the obedient child and had done everything asked of him. Harvard Business School, an MBA and then right into learning about the family business. He'd done a great job. Patrick had no regrets about leaving Patrick Sheppard Industries in the hands of David when the time came.
But John, John had been given a gift. He had an amazing mind that could see patterns and numbers in ways others couldn't even think about. When he was only fifteen he'd been sitting in the office waiting for a ride, casually flipping through some spread sheets to keep himself occupied. In less than five minutes, he'd found a dozen errors that could have cost the company thousands of dollars. Patrick knew at that point what John was capable of. If he could pick up on mistakes like that when he was bored, what could he do when he was actually concentrating? Patrick had come to realize that John had the uncanny knack for solving complex equations in his head in a fraction of the time it would take someone else to do it on the calculator or computer. But the more he tried to use John's skill, the more John had resisted.
And then at his high school graduation, he'd dropped the bomb that he wasn't going to Harvard or even Stanford, regardless of his acceptance into both. He'd gone behind his father's back and applied to the Air Force Academy in Colorado, and been accepted. Patrick had outright refused to pay the tuition, but John had calmly said it didn't matter. The Air Force Academy was free to those who were chosen and he'd already signed all the forms. He was leaving for basic training in two weeks. He'd spend four years earning his degree, then some time in flight training if he qualified for that, and then he owed the US Government eight years of service. To say Patrick had been livid was an understatement and the fight that had ensued was the second biggest they'd ever had.
John had stormed out of the house and stayed away for three days. When he'd returned, he'd started packing up his room and said he'd put anything of value in storage, he didn't care what they did with the rest. The Academy provided everything he'd need and no personal items were allowed for his first year anyway.
Over the next four years, John came home rarely and things were very strained when he did. And then he'd started flight school. His letters and phone calls were always filled with enthusiasm, but Patrick felt John slipping away even more as he became fully engrossed in his new career path.
Then a few years after flight school, John had met and married Nancy. She was lovely and bright and he thought for sure that she would be the thing that made John forget about flying into war zones and settle down. But the secrecy of his job and constant absences had proved too much for the marriage and barely two years after it had started, it ended.
But the final blow came when John was thirty-one, five years ago. Patrick had been counting the days until John's commission was up, knowing he could finally welcome him into the family business. Then John had shown up and announced that he'd re-upped for another eight years. It had been too much for him. He'd lost it and said things he should never have said. Looking back now, he realized that he'd said them because he was afraid of losing his son to some war in a far away country. He'd wanted both his boys with him, near him, the way families should be.
But he'd lost his son anyway. John had left in anger and they both had too much pride to try and erase the hurt they'd caused each other. And that had been the last time he'd seen or heard from John. David hadn't fared much better, although he'd gotten a somewhat cryptic note from John about a year and a half ago. John had informed him that he was no longer in Antarctica. He'd been chosen for a new assignment that had him both excited and completely freaked out at the same time. Unfortunately, he couldn't tell him anything about it. But he'd wanted him to know there was a possibility it was a one-way trip. John had told Dave to take care of himself and to take care of Dad. There was no other information.
Patrick had immediately contacted his source, an old college buddy who was a General in the Army. But his friend had discovered John's service record just ended in Antarctica. And no amount of digging could produce anything further. Then several months ago, his friend had called and reported that John's name had shown up on a list of recent promotions, with John going from Major to Lt. Colonel. He had no information on why he'd gotten the promotion or where he had been stationed for more than a year. His friend had been told to stop poking around, that any information on John Sheppard was highly classified. The relief that John was alive was counter balanced with concern that whatever he was doing was big and dangerous.
Patrick came out of his musings and looked at the letter again. Wayne had said and John had confirmed in the letter that he was the Military Commander of whatever base they were stationed on. That's my boy! I always knew you had the ability to be a great leader. I just wish you'd done it here with me. Pride filled him at the thought of two hundred service men looking toward John with respect and admiration.
But apparently command didn't keep him from any of the danger. Wayne's cousin had lost his life and apparently John had nearly died too. It had been several weeks before he'd been cleared for duty? That must have been some injury. John had always been injuring himself as a kid with his daredevil lifestyle, but his resilience had always had him bouncing back faster than a rubber ball.
The frustration started eating at him when he realized he'd received no notification that his son had been badly injured. Shouldn't the Air Force have done that? But thinking back to the finality of their last words to each other, he wondered if John had left instructions for him not to be told. That thought alone brought a sadness to him that he hadn't felt in many years. His eyes strayed toward the latter part of the letter where John talked about how vital it was for soldiers away from home to have the love and support of their families. And he knew, regretfully, that John had never had that. All he'd wanted was for his boys to be with him, but his methods had only pushed the youngest one away.
But maybe there was still time. He pulled out a yellow legal pad, fairly new with only a few pages scribbled on, and flipped to a spot near the back.
.
Dear John,
I know the last thing you'd expect is a letter from your father, but I've been doing a lot of thinking lately…
.
Patrick Sheppard stopped for a few seconds and dug around in his bottom drawer. He pulled out a picture of John that showed his promotion to Captain. So many years and several ranks ago, but the quirky grin still amused him. He didn't know why the picture was in the drawer. It really should be displayed where others could enjoy it.
He put the picture on his desk and continued to write the letter. It was difficult, but he knew it had to be done. He was almost finished when a knock sounded at his door. Work always interrupted. He tucked the letter from John into the legal pad, flipped the other pages back down and slipped it into his briefcase so he could finish it later. He called out, "Come in!"
His oldest son, David walked through the door, greeting him, "Hey Dad, you got a couple of minutes? We've got a few problems down in production and I figured you'd want to be aware."
Patrick gazed again at the picture of John. David looked at his father curiously. "Everything okay, Dad?"
Patrick looked up and said, "Yeah. I was just thinking about your brother."
David looked concerned and replied, "Don't do this to yourself. John made his decisions and he's got to live with them."
Patrick just nodded. He knew all about living with decisions. He placed the picture of John carefully back in the drawer and followed his oldest son out the door. Patrick Sheppard was a very busy man and today was no exception.
.
.
.
.
And if you want to know what's in the letter...I'm thinking that will be part of the epic novel I'm in the middle of. But apologies since it's sooooo long it may be a while before I can post it. That annoying thing called "real life" can so get in the way.