Author: Obsessed1
Character(s): John Sheppard and team.
Genre(s): Stargate Atlantis: H/C -Angst
Rating: T
Warnings: Dark.
Summary: Sometimes walking away is the only option.
Sheppard sat on the edge of his bed, fiddling with his dog tags and bobbing his knees up and down. The anger he had been supressing was beginning to manifest itself. He hadn't slept in days, he'd barely eaten and he'd ignored his team-mates to the extent that they now knew something was wrong.
If they thought about it, they knew why as well.
The door chimed and he just stared at it as if it would make the person on the otherside go away. This wasn't the first time he'd behaved like this and it wouldn't be the last. Usually, he just needed to be a little distant for a while.
On a base of hundreds that hadn't always been possible and so he'd just had to deal with it, compartmentalise and move on. This time he just wanted to snap. He wanted to tear his room apart, punch someone in the face, expend ridiculous and costly amounts of bullets in the firing range or drink himself into a stupor. He didn't want to talk. He wanted to act. Knowing he couldn't do that, knowing he had to keep up the façade of being easy-going, always positive Colonel Sheppard, was making him bat shit crazy.
The door chimed again and then a familiar voice was calling him, "Sheppard?"
He swallowed thickly, tucked his dog tags under his t-shirt and straightened his shoulders before saying, "Come in Rodney!"
The door opened and admitted McKay. He crossed the short distance of his room and eased himself into his desk chair, leaning it back slightly so that the front legs came off the ground.
"Colonel Carter's ready for you."
"I'll be up in a bit. I just needed a minute."
McKay rocked back and forth lazily, "Are you okay?"
Sheppard forced himself to smile, "Sure."
"Because…" and then McKay dropped forwards and the noise of that chair hurt Sheppard's ears and made him flinch a little because he'd been sat in silence for so long, "…you realise there was nothing you could have done. Right?"
He nodded. McKay only wanted him to be alright. Hell, He wanted to be alright.
"There was nothing you could have done."
There had been something. There had, but he'd been so preoccupied, so caught up in everything that wasn't normal, he'd missed obvious pointers. There was something he could have done and if anybody else told him otherwise he'd scream.
"I don't want to talk about this again," he admitted, hating himself to think it was so convenient for him to want to forget, and that there were people that had paid for him not thinking about it.
McKay stood slowly, "You shouldn't keep Sam waiting," he said giving him a look of…….pity? Worry?
He hated it when something had McKay acting so un-McKay around him. He wanted the fire back. He wanted to bicker and argue and release some of his built up tension in a way that was normal for them.
"I wont," he said, and then before McKay left, "And thanks."
When the door to his quarters had slipped shut, he found himself making, not the first trip, to the toilet to retch miserably. He hadn't eaten enough for it to be satisfying and instead his throat burned from bile. At least it was something. At least he could feel that.
--
He entered the conference room with a deliberate bounce in his stride and casually leaned into the chair, elbow on the arm rest, other slung over the back, as if he was fine.
"John," Carter smiled tightly and started leafing through the report in front of her. His report. "I thought, now you've had a few days to recuperate, that we could have another go at that debriefing."
He leaned forwards, elbows digging into the table and nodded because they'd tried this once before, only he'd completely lost it and near thrown a chair out onto the balcony, via the window. He'd been unconsolible in an angry, no tears were shed, way.
"Yeah," he cleared his throat, "Sorry about that." Except he wasn't.
"I understand that this is a difficult and upsetting situation," she paused, looking uncomfortable even bringing it up again, "I realise that you and the boy-"
"Akif."
"Akif," she amended. Perhaps she hadn't used his name because 'boy' was non-descript, a 'boy' had died and not a real person, "-were very close."
"We rescued him from a wraith culling and helped him and his mother get settled onto a new world." He told her by way of explanation.
"And she died…a few months back?"
"Yeah," he could already feel the anger swelling in his gut, "-when she died, Akif continued to live with his step-father."
Akif had instantly taken to Sheppard. When he first rescued him, he refused to let go of Sheppard's leg until he promised to carry him everywhere. He'd had to prise him from around his neck when he had left him the first night. They'd revisited, not least because they had a formal trading agreement on their new world, but also Sheppard had wanted to make sure he and his mother were settling in. That kid, had never done anything in anger in his short life and yet an act of anger snubbed out his.
"So what happened?"
Sheppard tucked his hands under the table so he could twist them without being analysed.
"We'd bedded down for the night…..but I couldn't sleep," he readjusted his position in the chair, feeling as though he was sitting on a bed of nails, "I went for a walk and I heard a scream." The shorter version would be easier, he decided.
"Akif?"
"Yeah," he cleared his throat again, "When I got there…..to the house…..he was already-" he stared Carter straight in the eyes because if he had to say it again, he wanted to be clear, he wanted her to know how much resolve it took for him to admit it, "He was already dead."
There had been blood everywhere and his tiny frail body had been lying amongst it. He was used to seeing the bodies of men, even the occasional woman but a child…..he hadn't seen many.
"He'd beaten him to death."
"Okay," Carter had paled a little, "And you-"
"I lost it," he said with a casual shrug, as if punching somebody repeatedly in the face until their nose broke was a perfectly normal thing to do, "He beat seven shades of shit out of that innocent kid and then-"
"Colonel," she warned.
"And they might have well have given the sonofabitch a pat on the back."
"We've been trading with the Luridinuns for three years Colonel and-"
"So," the word flew from his mouth and he didn't care that Carter was supposed to be a superior, "they're letting him walk around back there as if he didn't do anything. As far as I'm concerned they're not getting anything else from us."
"We have to maintain the trading agreement, you know that and I can understand just how devestated you are but-"
He waited, posied to give her a verbal backlash.
"-We cannot dish out justice just because we know it's wrong. It's their job. Not ours."
"If they're not going to do it, somebody else should. He murdered a five year old Colonel. If we were back on Earth-"
"But we're not. I'm as frustrated as you are but if we intervene we risk losing a valuable trading partner, not to mention the only Aplha site we have."
If Atlantis was attacked at that moment, he'd go down with her. He would not, under any circumstance seek solace on a world that didn't consider child beating a punishable offence.
"Now, I'm going to suggest that-"
"I want to keep working," Sheppard told her, because she wasn't taking that away from him as well. He needed that focus.
"Are you sure you're up to it?"
He sat back and tried to relax his shoulders, "Look, I'm sorry for…..I'm just sorry okay. I'll be fine. I just need to keep working."
She stood, closed the report and gave him a look that told him she was still deciding, "Okay," she said finally, "But I do want you to talk to somebody when you're ready." She touched his shoulder and it was strange and unfamilair, "It sounds like there was nothing you could have done about it. Please don't torture yourself with this."
--
So this is what going insane feels like, he thought as he walked through the corridors.
He understood Carter's position. She couldn't be reactive any more. She had to tow the line, follow procedures, be diplomatic. He just hoped she wasn't sat in her transparent office deluding herself that what she was saying was in anyway true.
"John?"
He'd walked passed Teyla and hadn't even noticed.
"Teyla," he leaned against the wall and tucked his hands into his pockets, "What's up?"
Her hand was protectively wrapped around her stomach; if anybody understood the value of a child's life then she would.
"How was your talk with Colonel Carter?"
"As I expected," he told her, "She's towing the line."
Teyla twisted her lips, "I believe she must do so for the good of Atlantis," and then to his, obivously disgusted expression, she said, "But it does not mean I agree."
He stared at her, at a loss for words.
"I was going to perform a memorial tea ceremony and it is customary not to do it alone."
"I'm not sure I…."
"It is not about forgetting John. It is about acknowledging existance."
It was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to hide out in his room and put himself together again, but Teyla was reaching out, pulling his hand out of his pocket and tangling her fingers in his.
When they had entered her quarters, Sheppard was regretting his decision to come here. He didn't feel at all comfortable being in her prescence when he was that angry. She was moving a tray from her bed and was going to put it on the floor, but Sheppard took it from her before she could drop it. Being top heavy wasn't doing anything for her balance. She set about lighting candles and strong smelling incense sticks and then dimmed the lights.
"Please, sit," she instructed, but again he had to help her down, reaching for a few cushions to make her a little more comfortable.
He joined her on the floor, rapping his fingers on his knees as she poured the tea.
"Rodney's been acting kind of weird around me," he told her, "Kind of normal actually."
Teyla smiled softly, "You are supposed to be silent."
"Sorry," he told her.
She handed him a cup and saucer and he realised his hands were shaking. He had to grab the cup to stop it from making a horrendously loud jangling noise.
"The pouring of the tea," she told him, "symbolises memory and to sip the tea is to consume that memory, to consolidate it, to make it part of us."
She stared at him for a second and he wondered what she saw in him at that moment in time.
"Now what?" he asked, forgetting and then instantly remembering that he was supposed to be quiet.
"Now we drink," she took a sip of her tea, "And we remember not to forget the ones we have lost."
Sheppard stared at his tea. Remember not to forget the ones we have lost. There wasn't enough tea in the world for the amount of people he'd lost over the years, counting the ones that were still alive.
The tea was heavily perfumed and his stomach protested the small amount that he sipped.
"I knew," he said suddenly.
Teyla arched an eyebrow, but she didn't speak. He needed her to say something because otherwise he might just have to admit to the truth.
"He was always covered in cuts and bruises," he told her setting the tea down, "but I thought that was just kids. They climb trees and they pretend to have wars and………"
He swallowed down the bile that was rising. He wondered what was compelling him to tell her. Because she was safe? Because she wouldn't tell the others? Because he thought she might already know? He suspected it was the result of four and a half years worth of mission time and down time. He had never intended to become close to any of them. He liked distance. Having real friends had been painful; he'd lost the best ones he'd ever had many years ago and still blamed himself for their deaths. Sometimes he hated being in that position again; because if anything ever happened to his team………
He realised he didn't want her to hate him. If he told her the truth she would. Just as he hated himself.
"John?"
He shook his head and tried to look neutral, "Thanks for this," he indicated to the tea and then left without looking back.
--
He'd been on a routine mission with another team when he'd re-dialled to the Luridinun homeworld. An hour later and he was being escorted back to their gate, the leader was having a few choice words with Colonel Carter and he was being sent back through the gate.
When he emerged on the other side, he scanned the collection of faces, including his own team, who were watching him, handed his P90 off to one of the soldiers by the gate and without a word followed Carter up the stairs of the Gateroom and into her office.
She waited until the door was firmly closed before sitting behind her desk. He stayed standing, hands on his hips, feeling a sense of Déjà vu.
"I shouldn't have done that."
Carter nodded, "You're damn right you shouldn't have done that. What posessed you to-" she held her hands up, "No, don't answer that….i know why you did it, I'm just wondering why you thought it was a good idea Colonel."
Sheppard stared out the clear window to his left and at the many eyes looking his way.
"I just had to go back and talk to the guy."
"The Counceller said you were harrassing him, following him around the square and shouting abuse-"
"He was just walking around like nothing had happened!" he told her, trying to keep his voice even and failing at that too.
"I told you, we cannot-"
"Intervene, yes I know."
"It is embarassing enough for you to publicly disobey an order from me but it is an entirely different thing to have you escorted back to Atlantis by the Luridinuns. You are not to go back there."
"I heard them."
"Did you?" she stood up and leaned on the desk, "Please John. I need your support here."
He wanted to laugh because where was his support. She was glossing over his report as if it was an issue of Cosmo.
"I want you to take some time off. I'm putting you on light duty until you've had some time to deal with this and I'm scheduling some appointments with Doctor Mead."
Sheppard nodded dumbly. He knew he'd lost it.
"We've all lost people here. You're not alone in being angry because a friend died." And then she said, "I really think Doctor Mead can help you."
"Can I go now Ma'am?"
Carter sat down and nodded tiredly. He left her office and avoided the looks coming his way.
--
It was the middle of the night when he awoke, breathing harsh rapid breaths, sweating and balling the sheets up in his hands. He lay back and closed his eyes and willed himself to drop off into a dreamless sleep. Perhaps he did, because the next thing he knew the lights were being turned on and his pants were being tossed at his chest.
"Get dressed," Ronon told him.
Sheppard rolled out of bed and pulled his pants on, watching Ronon as he buckled up, "What's going on?" and then Ronon was passing him his 9.mil and he understood, "We're going back?"
Ronon nodded and handed him his tactical vest without another word.
"I knew I could count on you," he told him.
Ronon looked away and Sheppard cursed himself because he would have to have been a complete moron not to have noitced how Ronon had changed over the years. He wondered if what he had said was taken to heart by Ronon, but then he said, "Well, I am good at shooting things."
--
Getting through the gate hadn't been a problem. Sheppard was still technically the Commanding Officer and therefore had the luxury of pulling rank on whoever happened to be working the late shift. Colonel Carter would have been in bed hours ago, so the worst that could happen was that she'd find out in the morning and he'd get another dressing down.
They stalked through the woods and when they came to the clearing that looked down over the village, Ronon held his hand out and pressed it into his chest, "Stay here."
"I thought we were doing this together."
Ronon looked up at the sky and then back to him, eyes dark, "You're not allowed into the village."
"Oh," he nodded, "Yeah right."
"Wait here," and then Ronon took off, coat flapping out in the wind.
Sheppard paced back and forth in the clearing, occasionally wandering to the edge of the hill to look down at the blinking lights below him. It felt good to be doing something finally and he really had known he could count on Ronon. They had an understanding. McKay and Teyla, they never got it; something he was secretly glad about.
The rain started to fall after a while and he crossed his arms and hunched inwards, feeling exposed and weird after so little sleep. Maybe this was all a dream and he'd wake up in the next few minutes.
The thought was cut off by Ronon crashing through the trees and dragging somebody with him. He came to stand beside him, the mass of flesh and bone struggling and trying to speak through the gag over his mouth. Sheppard immediately reached out, connected with the man he recognised shoulder and pushed him down to his knees. He missed the hand reaching out to tear at him and felt the skin on his cheek tear open as a nail connected and made it's mark. It was okay though, because it just made him angry and of all the emotions, anger he could deal with.
Ronon walked away and was somewhere behind him, not imposing, not saying much of anything but the intonation of 'he's all yours' was there.
Sheppard pulled his 9.mil out of his holster and unlatched the safety, pressing it to Salish's head and wanting nothing more than to press the trigger outright. But this man had to pay first.
He slugged Salish in the back of his head.
The gun felt heavy in his hands; heavy and disconnected and wrong, but he couldn't pull away. Daren't. Because he'd come here to finish this, to make this man atone and there was no walking away. Not now.
He depressed the trigger a little, tested himself to see if there was any resistance. He could have pulled it all the way; feel the satisfying recoil and it would all be over. Instead, he dug the barrel into the back of his head and listened to the way that he pleaded for his life.
"I trusted you Salish!" he shouted as thunder rumbled overhead, "I told you to look after him!"
Salish twisted around to look at him but he dug his hand into his shoulder and pinched a nerve he knew would disable him.
"Why?" Because he just couldn't understand why anyone would do what he had.
"What was it? Did he cry for his mom too much?" he paused, his words sounding foreign to his ears.
He pushed his boot into his back, all the while thinking this isn't me.
"You shouldn't be allowed to live…."
He wanted to pull the trigger. Instead, he dug it into the back of Salish's head a little harder. Pulling the trigger had always been so easy before, but then there had never been any other choice, this time he did. This time he had chosen to end a man's life and he wasn't fighting back and he was unarmed. Perhaps if he pushed a knife into his hand it would make this easier.
Salish muttered something and he knew what he was asking.
"I'm going to kill you," he said matter of factly.
But he didn't. He just stood there.
"Go on then! Do it!"
The voice ripped him out of his fugue – Ronon was standing next to him, dripping wet. He had been too numb to feel and suddenly everything seemed too bright, too loud and the hammering of his heart made him feel sick.
"You came here to finish this Sheppard!"
He had. He'd been weighed down with so much guilt and this had been the solution. He swallowed thickly.
"I'm not walking away," he shouted coldly; not even recognising the edge to his own voice, "He has to pay!"
"Then do it!" Ronon paced beside him, arms folded, defiant.
He could do it. Had done it. Killing in cold blood had always been easy. It was just the flick of a switch or the pull on a trigger. You became indifferent to the blood, the smell…..you could even become indifferent to the way it made you feel. The gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach, the surge of adrenaline. Easy. And yet, he still hadn't pulled this trigger. He still hadn't flipped the switch. He was just a man, standing in the rain, with a gun to a man's head.
Ronon suddenly gripped him by his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. It dug into the nerve and he leaned into him, careful not to press the trigger, careful not pull away. Ronon's mouth was inches from his ear and he could feel his hot breath, just before he said, "You can't do it Sheppard. You never could."
He tried to move from his grasp but Ronon had him rooted to the ground.
"If you do this. It won't make any of this better. Face it."
"But he……"
"Killing him won't change a thing. Revenge is one thing. Redemption is another."
"I have to do this," he said, feeling his sanity spiral away, "I have to because-"
Ronon was still close and breathing hard, "Because…."
The relentless tugging on his sleeve had Sheppard opening his eyes only to have the sun blotted out by Akif. He sat up in the grass and squinted.
Akif regarded him with a tilt of his head, "What are you doing?"
Sheppard scanned the village, could still see McKay arguing with Ronon about something or other and then turned to the kid, "Nothing much. What are you doing?"
"Nothing much," he replied and sat beside Sheppard, elbow digging into his side.
"Where's your dad?"
"Out hunting…said I should stay at home, but I got bored." Kids the world over were saying the same thing.
"None of your friends around?" Sheppard wiped grass shards off his pants absent-mindedly.
"Nah," the kid started brushing imaginary debris off his own shorts, mimicking him.
"You know when I was younger-"
"Years and years ago," Akif smiled.
"Yes, years and years ago….because I'm old," he rolled his eyes, "I used to make up my own games and-"
Akif sighed, "I'm too old for that. My dad says I should grow up. He's going to teach me to hunt."
"Really?"
"Uh huh…..but I don't want to. Hunt that is. I want to play."
"Well next time I visit, I'll bring my football. We can have a kick around….." Sheppard pushed himself up and heard an ominous click in his knee. He remembered thinking how old he was at that point.
"Football?"
"You know…..round thing…..you…kick it?" he smiled and helped Akif to his feet, but not before noticing the large bruises on his wrist and collarbone, "You been in the wars again kiddo?"
"Fell out of a tree," and he shrugged, "It didn't hurt."
"Yeah well maybe next time you shouldn't climb so high."
"Akif!"
Sheppard turned and saw Salish emerging from the tree's with his hunting party. He waved and smiled, "Home time!"
He should have realized that something was wrong there and then, but he'd just brushed it off as a kid being a kid. Akif clung to his leg and tried to hide, "I don't want to!"
Sheppard tried to extricate him, pulling on his wrist a little, "Hey you don't want to get in trouble."
"Akif!" Salish shouted.
"John!" the kid pouted, "Please can I stay up here a while longer…….please…I'll be good."
"Akif come here!"
"Please, please I'll be good. I don't want to go home! John!"
"I know you will but you're dad's waiting. I'll see you later," and he ruffled Akif's hair and started off towards McKay and the others, feeling a little guilty at the way Akif just stood there and sniffed.
"Because?" Ronon repeated and Sheppard blinked, remembering where he was.
"I could have done something," he whispered and then turned back to Salish, wanting to pull the trigger.
He sagged and just like that the anger dissolved away and instead, he just felt incredibly guilty. He couldn't get rid of the image of Akif out of his head. He didn't want to have to let Teyla down or make Rodney fear him, more than he already did. This wasn't him. He didn't do this shit.
"Give me the gun," Ronon told him.
He stared at him dumbly.
"The gun, Sheppard."
He passed it to him and walked away, hearing the familiar sound of Ronon's weapon on stun.
Sheppard sat down on a rotted log and bowed his head, tired and confused, and wondering why this had happened now. He'd always been told that holding back would result in some sort of breakdown. He'd naturally laughed it off, but at that moment in time, he really felt as if he had completely lost his way.
Ronon sat down beside him, gun trained on Salish's unconscious form.
"You couldn't be with the kid all the time. It would have happened whether you were here or not."
Sheppard scrubbed a hand through his wet hair and shook his head, "I could have taken him back to Atlantis."
"Could have."
Sheppard stared at his hands, but it was the sting of rainwater in his cut that had him remembering, "I'd noticed the bruises before……and that last time…..I knew something was wrong but-"
He'd been too naïve to even contemplate that it was child abuse because in the grand scheme of things it seemed too normal. He'd overlooked something common place on earth just because they were in another galaxy.
"Still there was nothing you could have done."
"I don't want there to be nothing I could have done," he told Ronon, "I don't want something to happen to you or Rodney or Teyla and have to sit there and say there was nothing I could do."
"Some things you can't stop."
Ronon didn't say much, but when he did it was usually the truth.
"I know that," and he said it in such a desperate voice that it made him realize the stark truth. One day, one of them would die and he either wouldn't be there, or he wouldn't be able to swoop in and save the day. One day, they're luck was going to run out. Maybe next time it would be him.
They had been sat there in silence for a while, Ronon letting him be, when Salish was stirring on the ground and starting to get up slowly.
"I could still shoot him," Ronon offered, already reaching for his weapon.
He considered it. Let someone else do what he couldn't.
He didn't even look up, "Let him go."
Salish would have to live with what he'd done and living was a lot harder.
"He doesn't deserve an end to this. If we've got to live with it, so should he."
--
On the other side of the Gate, Ronon handed Sheppard his gun back and patted him on the shoulder. Sheppard gave him a long look and sighed, reached up to wipe the blood that had accumulated on his cheek, and then he walked off, head down and without another word.
He wouldn't sleep tonight. Sheppard was a pro when it came to hoarding guilt.
Ronon watched him go and then headed up the stairs of the Gateroom, passed the night shift workers and into the Conference room to where Colonel Carter was sitting at her desk, hands clenched together nervously.
"How'd it go?" she asked, getting up quickly and looking behind him for Sheppard.
"He's not with me."
"He didn't?"
"It went to plan," he told her.
Her shoulder's dropped, "And he didn't notice you'd switched his side arm?"
Yeah, Sheppard hadn't had bullets in the first place. He'd felt guilty at first, because he hadn't wanted to see Sheppard commit to firing that weapon and then realize what he'd done. Sheppard had made the right choice so he'd never had to find that out.
"No, didn't notice."
"How did you know he wouldn't shoot?" Carter asked.
"Because I know him."
Carter pushed her hair behind her ears and smoothed out an imaginary crease in her uniform, "When you came to ask me if you could do this, I was skeptical………this could have ended badly…"
"I told you I knew Sheppard."
"I know…..that's something I need to learn I guess." She smiled softly, "but do you think it's helped?"
"He had a choice. He walked away. Give him a week or two and he'll have something else to feel guilty about."
He was about to leave when Carter said, "I've decided to cease trading with the Luridinuns."
"For Sheppard?" he asked without turning.
"And a little bit for me," she admitted.
Ronon understood her implicitly and knew she also, had made the right choice.
And with that, he walked away.
The End
AN/ This was a strange little idea that came to me. I was initially going to make this much longer but I think otherwise it would have been a bit too heavy. I'm pretty please with this. I enjoyed writing a slightly different Sheppard and the various interactions between him and his team.
Please review and tell me what you think.
Oh, and thanks for reading.