Title: Down Time
Author: Lorr
Genre/Rating: Drama, H/C
Characters: Sheppard, McKay, Ronon, Teyla, Carter, Keller, Lorne
Disclaimer: The Stargate universe and characters belong to others. Wish it was me. I come here to play.
Spoilers: This takes place after Quarantine, but before Outcast. Some minor spoilers for episodes up through Quarantine.
Warning: None that I can think of.
Note: The story is a kind of sequel of another fic I wrote called Overload. I think I've put enough information in here, so it isn't really necessary to read it. I would love, though, if you did read Overload! Please note that I started this in February, 2008, so I didn't know what would happen in canon after that point.
The Ancient gene, and Sheppard's ability to use it to maximum effect, is pivotal. I wrote it because TPTB didn't really seem to feel the need to do an episode centered on it. Pity.
Reviews are always appreciated. Please be honest. Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy it.
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Chapter 1
A dust covered MALP emerged from the wormhole and rolled to a stop on one side of the Gate room. It was closely followed by a dozen Marines, equally dusty and smudged with soot. As they moved out of the way, each turned to watch the rest of the away team come home. They were all visibly exhausted and looked like they'd been through hell. Sheppard and Ronon were the last to appear. A lieutenant broke away from the group of Marines and approached them.
"Sir?"
Sheppard waved him off. "I'll handle the debriefing, Lieutenant. Make sure everyone is checked out in the infirmary and gets some rest. Schedule a CIS debriefing tomorrow. Everyone goes."
"Yes, Sir." The young man paused for a moment before asking, "Can I take your gear?"
"Yeah. Thanks." Sheppard unclipped his P-90 and handed it over as a sergeant appeared to take the tac vest.
The two Marines turned and led the waiting men and women down the corridor towards the armory. They secured weapons and unzipped their tac vests as they filed out of the Gate room. A technician guiding the MALP followed them.
Sheppard and Ronon walked across to the foot of the stairs as Col. Carter and Teyla descended from the ops level.
"Did you find any survivors?" Sam asked, glancing at the last of the away team as they left. She already knew the answer. Not many.
The attitude of the whole away team was easy to read. They were sick at heart. They'd seen too many burned out worlds in the last few of weeks. One was too many, but they'd all been on more than one.
The settlement on M7R-892 was the last confirmed to have been destroyed by the Replicators in their rampage across the galaxy. Survivors were few and far between. There were some miracles, people living on remote farms, a few who escaped through the Gate or some who had been quick enough to find shelter sufficient to protect them. A couple of times, no-one was found alive.
"Only a handful. Total of 47 alive out of 3,700." Sheppard exhaled wearily. "They're on 721."
The refugee compound on M9P-721 was getting much more traffic lately. It had been set up to help relocate people needing to find a new home after Wraith cullings. Now they were using it to care for and relocate the all too few survivors of the Replicator campaign to wipe out the Wraith's source of food, humans. In some cases, the refugees were trading partners and friends, allowing for groups of survivors from different planets to be resettled together. Many either could not or would not return to their own planets. Fear and the destruction of families, homes and lives made it impossible.
"Any injuries that need to come here for treatment?"
"No. If they were close enough to get injured, they died." Sheppard replied. It sounded cold, but it was true. It was also merciful. Most injuries were agonizing and ultimately fatal.
"Is there nothing left?" Teyla asked, unable to hide her pain and bitterness.
"Nothing. The survivors are alive only because they were outside of town when the Replicators got there. They were in some caves, setting up stores in case the Wraith attacked."
"They were already searching for other survivors when we got there." Ronon added.
Col. Carter nodded grimly. "We'll find a safe place for them."
"Yeah." Sheppard's tone was flat, but she could hear a deep anger in it.
"Okay, you two know the drill." Sam glanced at her watch and decided the rest of this conversation should wait. The men standing in front of her looked like they were ready to drop. "It's almost 2100 hours. Infirmary first, then get some rest. Come and see me in the morning."
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"Did any of you get any sleep while you were away?" Dr. Keller asked as she examined Sheppard and Ronon. None of the away team looked as though they'd gotten more than a few minutes during the three days they were gone.
"Some." Sheppard replied without convincing her. The desire to get off yet another ghost planet had spurred the team to search almost without stopping. The only reason they would not need to go back was the fact the inhabitants, the few able-bodied still alive, had already searched part of the town. The remainder was done with life signs detectors.
"Right." Jennifer said skeptically. "Okay, I want you both to get something to eat then sleep. Now. No detours."
"Okay." Ronon slipped off the examination table.
She stared at Sheppard. "I mean it."
"Okay. Okay." Sheppard would have rolled his eyes if he weren't so tired. He dropped off the table and followed his friend out.
Repeating what had already happened with the entire away team, the two men walked silently down the corridor and parted for their respective quarters without a word. No-one was hungry tonight and they all needed to wash away the dirt and smell of destruction. Each of them just wanted to block out the last 72 hours, and all of the ruined towns and people they'd seen since the Replicators were unleashed. More than a few silent prayers of thanks were said now that the Asurans were now dust themselves.
Sheppard stopped just inside the door of his quarters, needing to sleep but wary of what would inhabit his dreams. He finally took a deep breath and began to strip off, suddenly wanting nothing more than to feel clean, to smell something more than burned out towns and decomposing flesh. He punched the stereo on button but didn't really hear the music. It wasn't loud, but it was noise other than crying.
The jets of hot water pummeled his skin, scrubbing off the grime. Leaning on outstretched arms, he stood with his head bowed so that the full force hit his neck and shoulders. After several minutes, John straightened and reached out to grab his toothbrush and paste. A moment later, he tossed the tube into the sink. It was only the metallic tang of blood that told him he'd tried too hard to scrub the taste of 892 out of his mouth.
He turned off the water and dropped the toothbrush next to the tube. His body felt marginally better, but the need for sleep was too great. After barely toweling off, John found a pair of loose track pants and pulled them on. He didn't remember flipping the covers off the bed and falling onto it. Blackness descended and he was asleep.
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John sat up suddenly, blinking into the dimness of his quarters. He rubbed his eyes and searched the room again. Trying to figure out what woke him, he took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. He didn't remember dreaming and all was quiet. Was it time to get up? It was still night and only the light from the smaller, more distant moon shining weakly through a thin cloud layer illuminated his quarters. He glanced at his wrist and realized his watch had been discarded along with his clothing earlier. The disc changing on the stereo made him turn. The display told him it wasn't even 0100 hours. He'd been asleep less than three hours.
John rolled off the bed and walked to his desk. He picked up and turned on the radio left there for emergencies. A few minutes of listening to the mundane, late night traffic told him nothing was amiss. With a low groan, he dropped back onto the bed and closed his eyes again.
The next time he woke the stereo clock showed 0520. He looked around and listened intently. Again, there were only the normal sounds of Atlantis, the low music, the ocean far below and…nothing. After several seconds, John shook his head. Dreaming, must have been dreaming, he thought to himself.
Despite feeling like he'd gone ten rounds with both Teyla and Ronon, he decided it just wasn't worth trying to get more sleep. Stiff muscles protested when he got up and headed to the bathroom. Maybe a short run and another long, hot shower would help.
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Col. Carter was surprised when Sheppard walked into her office. It was 0630. She had a large mug of coffee and a bowl of fresh fruit salad sitting next to her laptop. "John? I didn't expect to see you this early. How are you?"
He half shrugged as he dropped into one of the chairs opposite her desk. "Fine."
She bypassed the fact that it was a less than truthful statement. He looked like he'd been through exactly what he'd been through the last few months. She decided not to press it. "The Apollo will be here tomorrow."
Sheppard blinked in surprise. He'd lost track of the days. "Already?"
Sam frowned, knowing he was aware the Apollo was well on her way back to Atlantis when he left on his last mission. She quickly replaced the frown with what she hoped was a pleasant smile. "The repair crews on Earth had plenty of time to assemble the needed parts. They've been getting a lot of practice the last couple of years."
"Yeah." He nodded sideways in wry agreement. "What about the Daedalus?"
"She'll be ready in a few days, but the SGC wants her to assist in a mission. She won't be heading back to Pegasus for at least another week to ten days."
He exhaled heavily, knowing better than to ask about the mission. "Well, it looks like the Wraith are still busy picking teams. If we're lucky, it'll be a little quieter around here for a while without the Replicators."
"We can only hope. The fact that some of the Hives don't have queens is a plus." Sam raised her eyebrows thoughtfully. She paused for a moment, taking a sip from her mug to fill in the silence. "John, I think this is a good time to let Rodney install the streamlining program he's been working on. We don't have any teams off-world at the moment except 721 and the alpha site, so this might be our only opportunity for a while."
He abruptly scratched the back of his head, staring at the floor in thought.
"John?"
His head snapped up, a sheepish expression on his face. "Uh. Sure. He said it'd be offline for only a couple of hours, didn't he?"
"About two." She looked at him a little more closely. It wasn't difficult to see he was tired. The last few months had been hard on everyone, but perhaps more so John. He'd taken responsibility on himself for many events that may or may not have been his. Along with the almost non-stop pace they'd been keeping, it was a lot for anyone to bear. "He's been tweaking it while everything else was going on for the last couple of weeks."
"Why does that worry me?" His eyes narrowed a fraction. "When?"
"Tomorrow. Once the Apollo is in orbit, and right after we report to Earth." She chuckled silently. "Don't worry, I've gone over it with him. Meantime, I think you and Ronon, and your team from this last mission, should stand down for several days."
"I've scheduled all the teams that have been on search and rescue to have a week on base with days off and light training."
"You and Ronon, too, John." She knew he'd missed the point, purposely or not. "It's been a hectic couple of months. Take some time."
"It isn't necessary."
Sam shook her head once, a knowing glint in her eye. "Well, you have no option. Besides, Dr. Keller says she wants to run a complete physical on you."
He exhaled heavily. "Great."
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"Col. Sheppard." Jennifer Keller studied his face with a critical eye. Even though she would have expected he would still be tired, he appeared to be much less rested than he should. "How are you feeling today?"
He shrugged. "I'm good. Col. Carter said you wanted to see me, something about a physical?"
"Yes, it's been nine months since…well, since you were shot." The young doctor swallowed in discomfort, not wanting to actually say that it had been nine months since he'd been forcefully drugged and manipulated into almost destroying Atlantis. It was determined that he should have a complete physicals every three months for a year, just to be sure there were no long term effects from the experimental drugs and treatment he'd received. After that, annual physicals, in combination with the post mission exams, would suffice. She frowned, checking the notebook cradled in her arm. "I have a pretty full load at the moment. Would this afternoon be okay?"
"Sure." John was only partially relieved at the delay. "What time?"
"How about two o'clock?" She smiled.
He shrugged disinterestedly. "Sure, no problem."
"Thank you Colonel. I'll see you later." She watched him leave before turning back to her patients.
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"How's it going, Rodney?" Col. Carter looked over his shoulder at two computer screens. The chief science officer had been working on the laptops simultaneously, and grumbling none too quietly for the last hour and a half. "Everything alright?"
His face scrunched up as he pointed to one screen then the other before typing again. "Well…I thought. No, no. Everything's okay."
She looked at the screens more closely. He wasn't working on the upgrade. Instead, he seemed to be going through part of the programming in the city's systems.
"Thought what?" She pressed.
McKay wiggled his fingers at one of the screens then rubbed his eyes. "I'm just tired. I was verifying some of the settings when it, well, when I thought, for a split second, the program changed."
The colonel's eyes narrowed as she leaned in a little closer, reading the displays more thoroughly. "Changed? What changed?"
"I said thought, and I said tired. I've been working almost nonstop when we haven't been busy with the Replicators and Wraith." He threw her a look of impatience. "It's fine. I've gone back over the code and it's fine."
"Okay." She said evenly as she straightened. Sam knew better than to respond to Rodney's mood. Instead, she suggested, "We can postpone for 24 hours."
"Postpone? Why? There's no need to postpone." He sputtered in surprise at the thought of it. "Everything is pretty much ready. I just have a few small tweaks to make."
Sam decided to leave it at that. Everyone was exhausted and getting a little squirrelly. The need for down time was more than apparent, especially with long timers. She was determined to make sure everyone on the base took at least a few days off over the next two or three weeks. The question was who needed it most and who could wait?
She turned and walked to her office, making a mental note to talk with Zelenka later in the day. He'd been working on the project, too, and knew the Ancient systems almost as well as McKay. As much as she trusted the chief scientist, it would be unwise to just dismiss the incident, real or imagined.
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Sheppard stared at the gauze covering the needle marks in the crease of his left elbow. He was certain the infirmary technician who drew the umpteen vials of blood was new to the business. It took him three attempts to find the vein. He was all apologetic, but the colonel was not in the mood. Finally, the nervous young man found the vein, got what he needed and scurried out.
"Colonel?"
He looked up to see Dr. Keller watching him with concern in her eyes.
"Are we done?" He moved to get off the exam table.
"No, no, not quite." She stepped back. "We just have the scan left and then we'll be finished."
"Right." John slid off the table and followed her to the scanner. He stretched out on the bed and silently waited for the test to be completed.
A few minutes later, Jennifer powered the machine down and walked over to Sheppard. "Okay, now we're all finished. So far, everything looks good, but I'll…"
"Let me know. Thanks." He finished for her as he abruptly got up and walked out.
He left her standing, mouth open. Sheppard was rarely dismissive and never flat out rude. Something was up. She slowly returned to the scanner controls and sat down. It was some time, though, before she began reviewing the scan results.