A Colonel and a Baby

Chapter 1

The light was too bright.

It shone into his face, turning the darkness behind his eyelids red, like magma. His ribs were hurting, making each breath more painful than the last. Bruised, he thought to himself, though he couldn't quite remember how they'd gotten that way.

The air around him smelled…well, green, and when a slight breeze passed over him, he realized that he was outside. He turned his head to the side, feeling damp dirt cling to his cheek.

"Definitely outside," he muttered aloud, and suddenly, the events leading up to his awakening on the ground came rushing back to him.

AT-1, led by Colonel John Sheppard, had been checking in with a village of allies, bringing along a few crates of supplies for the people – clothes, food, a small shipment of medicine from Dr. Keller. The people had been grateful, offering to share a meal with the team, and they had willingly accepted. After supper and what seemed like endless hugs and well-wishes, Sheppard and his team made their way back to the Stargate, weary from the day's activities. Rodney McKay had dialed the address for Atlantis, and Ronon had led the way through the even horizon, followed by Rodney and Teyla. Sheppard had been about to step over the threshold, when something happened. Some kind of energy burst hit the 'gate, and the puddle suddenly disappeared. As a result, Sheppard was thrown forward through the now-empty ring, landing hard on the ground behind it. As he fell, he managed to hit a large boulder on the way down.

Which is probably where the bruised ribs come in, Sheppard guessed as he attempted to roll over and push himself up onto his hands and knees. His chest hurt, but he'd had enough of laying around on the ground; the hot sun beat down on him, probably causing a wicked burn that he'd feel later. Once he was on his feet again, he surveyed his surroundings and then headed back toward the town. He'd grab a quick drink, explain what happened, and then get back to the 'gate, hoping that by then, Rodney had figured out how to fix this mess.

When he emerged from the forest surrounding the town, Sheppard's instincts immediately put him on edge.

"What the…?" He said aloud.

The town was empty. The kids that were playing on the paths not a half-hour ago were gone, as were their mothers, who'd been happily chatting with their neighbors and calling out warnings to their offspring to stay within eyesight. Worst of all, the air around him was silent; no birds or crickets chirped out their songs, no goats or cows cried out for their daily meals. Not even the wind blew here. It seemed that every sign of life had been taken away. Or killed, his grimmer self blurted out. Sheppard pushed the thought away quickly. He didn't want to entertain that line of thinking until it was confirmed beyond a doubt.

Lifting his P-90 and pointing it ahead of him, he methodically swept each building in the village, looking for any sign of what – or who – had done this. After nearly an hour, he'd found nothing except the remains of their shared meal, and a few forgotten candles, slowly melting their hot wax over their holders. These Sheppard carefully blew out, not wanting the houses to catch fire in case the townspeople miraculously returned.
Sheppard decided to take a break, sitting on the top step of one of the houses. He was just about nodding off, when his ear caught a strange wailing sound nearby. He straightened up and leaned forward, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. It seemed to be coming from across the street, from a smallish, square house he'd somehow missed in his search.

Cautiously, he made his way across the dirt road, his gun up and ready. As he slunk around the side of the house, he glanced through the windows, but nothing moved within. Now, though, the sound was louder, clearer, and he grimaced as the wailing pitch rang in his ears. Finally, he reached the door, and used the barrel of his gun to push it open wide enough for him to step through. He followed the sound to a far corner of the dim, two-room house, where a bundle of blankets lay in a heap on the floor.

"No way!" Sheppard breathed as he saw what was lying atop the blankets. Kneeling on the dirt floor, he put down his P90 and gently picked up the bundle, holding it securely in his arms. He pulled a corner of the blankets aside, allowing him a better view of the baby he now held. Its tiny hands were balled into fists, waving wildly as it cried loudly, the little face turning a vivid pinkish-red while huge crocodile tears slid from the baby's dark brown eyes to its temples.

"Hey, now," he soothed, his eyes scanning the room for some kind of bottle for the child. When his gaze finally lit upon a full bottle of milk on the table, he sighed in relief and slowly stood up, a difficult task with bruised ribs, not to mention holding a 9 pound baby as well.

Sheppard retrieved the bottle and carefully put it to the baby's mouth. He was rewarded by sudden silence as the baby's hunger was eased. Sheppard found a chair near the window, where he could keep watch for rescue as he cared for the infant, and sat down carefully.

"Well," he said after a while, "I need to call you something other than 'Baby'."

Now satisfied by the bottle, the baby quietly gazed back at him, no doubt curious as to who he was, as well.

Sheppard smiled. "Pretty sure you're a boy – though I'll find out for sure sooner or later – so how about…Aiden? After a good friend of mine."

Still, the baby stared at him, and Sheppard nodded. "Okay, then. Aiden it is."

He set the empty bottle aside, and gently rocked back and forth, hoping the motion would soothe Aiden to sleep. He checked his watch and sighed.
Three hours. Aloud, he wondered, "Where are you guys?"

Suddenly, Aiden began to squall again, his little legs kicking under the warm layers he was swaddled in. Though he had virtually no experience dealing with babies, Sheppard had watched Teyla with the various children of the Athosians enough to know what was wrong.

"Okay, okay," he said to Aiden, and placed the baby against his shoulder, alternately patting and rubbing Aiden's back until a loud burp erupted from his stomach.

Sheppard chuckled as he laid the baby back across his arms. "Nice one, buddy. I rate that one an 8."

As night slowly fell over the nearly-empty village, Sheppard continued to keep watch. Aiden slept cozily in the crook of his arm, and Sheppard envied the little one; he was tired, himself, but he couldn't afford to sleep now. Whatever had made the townspeople disappear could come back again to search for anyone who'd escaped. And, more importantly, his team could be looking for him. Moving carefully so he wouldn't wake Aiden, he checked the time again. He'd been missing for seven hours now. A tiny feeling of worry niggled at the base of his brain. What if they couldn't fix this? Would he be left alone here, forever?

Sheppard shook his head to clear away the thought. No, he told himself; they'd figure this out. They always did.

But there was another, more pressing worry on his mind. All too soon, Aiden would need to be fed again, and he'd only found the one bottle. Just where did he think he was going to find milk?

I'll look for some when it gets a little lighter outside, he told himself. Right now, there wasn't much he could do, since Aiden was still sleeping and Sheppard didn't want to risk waking him by moving.

Carefully, he slouched a little farther in the chair, ignoring the ache in his ribs, and closed his eyes, intending only to rest until the sun began to rise again.

Sheppard started awake when the baby in his arms began to stir, and was mildly surprised to see that it was now daylight. He looked down into the infant's wide eyes and smiled sleepily.

"Hey, Aiden. Guess I dozed off, huh?"

Aiden cooed softly in response, then stuck his fingers in his mouth and sucked on them. Sheppard shifted him from one arm to the other and realized that he had another, even more pressing problem than finding food for the baby.

"Geez, kid," he muttered, "we gotta find a diaper for you, and a clean shirt for me."

Again, the baby made a quiet noise around his fingers. Before he actually moved from his chair, Sheppard did a visual search for anything suitable for use as a diaper. Finding nothing, he realized he'd have to move after all, and sighed loudly. His ribs protested as he stood and turned toward the corner he'd found Aiden in, and again when he finally bent over and placed the baby atop his blankets.

"It's just for a minute, buddy," he murmured, this time moving slowly as he stood back up.

He ended up finding a clean linen shirt hanging in the bedroom closet, and decided to exchange his dirty – and now, wet – t-shirt for it. He tossed the t-shirt haphazardly into a corner, then continued his search for diapers. He'd been hoping that Aiden's mother had kept all the baby's things in one place, but he had no such luck. From what he could tell, the kid didn't even have a crib, let alone a neatly-stacked pile of cloth diapers.

"Great," he said to himself, resting his hands loosely on his hips. Glancing around again, he knew he'd have to improvise, and when his eyes spotted a clean linen sheet laying at the foot of the bed, he decided it was as good as anything. He reached for the knife at his belt, and in less than five minutes, he had four nice-sized (if crudely-fashioned) diapers for Aiden cut from the sheet. And just in time, too, he mused as the baby started to squall in the other room. Sheppard slipped his knife back into the sheath, grabbed the pile of homemade diapers, and walked back into the main room.

"Hey, little man. I'm right here," he soothed, but the crying only rose louder. Sheppard knelt down in front of the baby and inspected the diaper he wore. The top looked folded, somehow, and two pins secured it at the sides. I can do that, he assured himself as he began to undo the dirty cloth encircling Aiden's tiny waist.

After multiple tries, through which Aiden cried quite loudly, Sheppard finally managed to secure a clean diaper around the baby, and all without accidentally pricking either of them with the pins. Feeling quite proud of his accomplishment, he lifted Aiden to his chest and patted him lightly on the back, which seemed to calm him.

At least until Sheppard's stomach rumbled – a low growl followed by a single gurgling noise. Whether Aiden had heard it or felt it didn't matter, as his cries returned all the same, sharp and desperate-sounding. Sheppard cuddled him closer, readjusting his grip on the squirming infant.

"I know. I'm gonna find you some food. Somehow," he added softly. He'd wracked his brain for hours, and hadn't come up with a single good idea yet. All the animals in the village were gone, so cow's milk was definitely out. And in all the time he had been here, he hadn't seen a wild animal of any kind, let alone a sheep or goat. He suddenly found himself wishing he was home on Atlantis, surrounded by his team – his family – and where there was a great big kitchen full of milk.

"Please, help me out here," he uttered to the air above his head. But it was an empty plea, and he fully knew it. He couldn't remember a time when God had actually answered any of his prayers. If He had, maybe his mother would still be alive, as would at least one member of his team in Afghanistan.

Still, the words offered him a little comfort, and a tiny warm spot of peace spread through his aching chest. He carried Aiden out to the porch, hoping the warm breeze would soothe them both. As he stood there, he gazed emptily into the trees around the village, watching as the breeze stirred the branches, fluttering the leaves like butterflies' wings. Then, a small sound reached his ears, one that filled him with more hope than he had ever felt before. His eyes pinpointed the place he'd heard it come from, and nearly forgot to breathe as he waited for the source of the noise to come closer. Soon, the underbrush parted, revealing an animal the size of a Great Dane, but that closely resembled a cow. Its coat was white, spotted with a dark chestnut color, and there were small horns protruding above its eyes. He's seen the same animal in one of the village corrals a few days ago, and knew that although it carried horns, it was indeed a female. He'd watched one of the women expertly milking her.

Overjoyed, Sheppard again laid Aiden on his blankets, and then returned outside. The cow still grazed on the underbrush at the forest edge, so he slowly stepped off the porch and made his way over to a nearby corral, grabbing a fistful of hay from the manger.

"Here, girl. Here Bessie," he called softly, holding the hay at arm's length as he carefully moved toward the cow. He didn't really think "Bessie" suited her, but right now he couldn't think of a better name. The cow saw the hay he offered, and began to pick her way across the road to him, stopping uncertainly every now and then.

When she finally reached him and began to munch the hay, he rubbed his hand gently down her neck. "Good girl," he said as he felt her slowly relax under his touch. When she was fully calm, he began to lead her to the paddocks. There were nearly there when Aiden made a sudden noise inside the house, sending Bessie running back toward the underbrush. Not willing to let his only means of feeding Aiden escape, Sheppard sprinted after her, though the pain in his ribs threatened to tear his breath away. Just before the cow could disappear into the forest, Sheppard leaped forward, wrapping his arm around her neck. He let himself fall heavily to the ground, his weight pulling her down with him, and he suddenly knew what a cowboy must feel like. He didn't envy them in the least.

"Come on, Bess," he growled as his free hand probed his pockets for anything to use as a lead rope. "We can't let the baby starve to death." Finally his fingers closed on a length of hemp twine he'd been planning on using as tinder for a fire. He pulled it out and quickly tossed it over Bessie's neck, knotting it twice to make sure it would hold.

Exhausted and in pain, Sheppard scrambled to his feet, holding the rope just slack enough to allow the cow to stand as well. When she was up, he rubbed his hand between her horns, and she licked his hand. It seemed as if they'd made peace with each other again.

"All right, let's get that kid some breakfast," he said to Bessie as he led her into the nearest corral. She stood patiently as he locked the gate behind him, didn't even blink as he grabbed a clean pail from nearby and got to work.

Continued next chapter...