oOo

1 Year Ago…

Homeland Security Building

Crystal City

Arlington, VA

Homeland Security Director Nancy Stephens sat at her desk, going over her recent encounter with her ex-husband John Sheppard, first at his father's Wake, and later at Rock Creek Park for a "secret" meeting. She recalled how angry she'd become with him.

After nearly four years of no contact, he asked her to use her security clearance to get him some classified information. When she asked him why, he hemmed and hawed, saying that he couldn't tell her. In other words, he was asking her to trust him enough to risk her job on his word alone. Typical!

Her knee jerk reaction was to tell him what she thought of him, remind him that they weren't married anymore and that she no longer had to put up with his secrets, and then she walked away.

Now, having just watched the door close behind NID Agent Bates, Nancy still wasn't entirely sure why she had not been able to put John and his ridiculous request out of her mind when she returned to her office that day. Worse, she couldn't even offer a reasonable defense for any of her follow-on—and highly illegal—actions. She only knew that the John Sheppard she had known would have never asked her for anything if it weren't important.

Determined to get to the bottom of things, Nancy took the resources she had at hand and began running a background check on John—calling in favors, running electronic searches, looking for anything she could get her hands on—only to run smack into an impregnable wall. She had never had so many doors unceremoniously slammed in her face.

An Air Force friend, whom she and John knew while married and with whom she still met on occasion for a friendly drink, even called her and warned her to drop the issue.

"I don't know what's going on, Nance." Major Scott Thayer spoke quietly over the phone as if afraid that someone might be listening. "But you've got the wrong people talking. I overheard a couple of generals mention Shep's name in passing and something about—and I quote—'a nosy ex-wife'—end quote."

Nancy felt a sudden chill run down her back.

"Nancy…you know I'd do anything for you and Shep, right?"

She nodded over the phone, only to realize that he couldn't see her. "Yeah, Scott, I know."

"Whatever's going on…whatever Shep's got himself into…it's big. Really big. You've gotta drop this, Nancy, for your own good."

"I understand, Scott."

"And, Nance…if you see him. Tell Shep I'm real sorry about his dad."

"I will…and thanks, Scott. I owe you one."

In the end, she handed John the classified information he had requested.

But, that wasn't the end of it….

A little over an hour ago, NID Agent Dean Bates paid a visit to Nancy's office at the Homeland Security building in Arlington, Virginia. As they shook hands, she noted the discoloration over his left eye, showing that he was still recovering from a very painful blow to the head.

After the introductions, Agent Bates got down to business. Without his voice changing inflection, Bates very courteously "requested" that Nancy cease and desist any further attempts to learn of the whereabouts, activities, or current assignment of Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. He handed her an order signed by Major General Jack O'Neill of Home World Security. What was that, she wondered? And countersigned by—she took a moment to re-read the second signature to ensure its authenticity—President Henry Hayes.

"Do you understand the 'Cease and Desist Order' as it is written, m'am?" Bates's carefully polite tone was beginning to grate on her.

"Yes," Nancy bit out. She was fuming—at Bates, at Major General O'Neill—whoever he was—at John for getting her into this mess in the first place, and even the President for sticking his nose into her private business.

I get it already! Good grief, you'd think I was selling nuclear secrets to the enemy—not asking questions about my very annoying ex. And since when does the President get involved in the personal affairs of a mere Air Force Lieutenant Colonel? Not to mention one with a very black mark on his record?

Oh, sure…save the day a few times and look what happens? Suddenly, John's best buds with the President of the United States—Okay…maybe not best friends exactly, but he's certainly caught POTUS' eye. I guess that black mark isn't quite so black anymore.

She crossed her arms in what she knew was a defensive posture and glared. In another minute she'd be pouting if she didn't watch out.

Bates studied her for a moment. A brief look of something…Uncertainty? She thought…flitted across his face. Then, as if reaching a decision, he seemed to physically relax.

"Ms. Stephens, I need you to listen." He quickly raised his hand to forestall any comments. "Please, don't say anything…don't ask any questions…just listen."

At her skeptical nod, Bates pulled one of the chairs she kept for guests in her office and sat down. Again, he seemed to be debating with himself, when a look of determination suddenly took over his features.

"I worked with Colonel Sheppard—then Major Sheppard—three, almost four years ago. I'm not at liberty to say where we were—"

"Naturally," she said sardonically.

"—or what we were doing, but…I will say this: It was extremely dangerous."

"Naturally," Nancy repeated, tired.

"Colonel Sheppard saved my life and the lives of everyone…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "…Everyone on base—several times." Bates held her eyes, imploring her to understand. "Four days ago, again for reasons I can't go into, I had the opportunity to work with the colonel again." He grimaced. "It was a little hard on him, what with having to walk out on his dad's Wake and all…but Sheppard being Sheppard, he did what needed doing."

Nancy frowned. "In other words…he hasn't changed a bit."

"M'am, the information you gave the colonel was the break we needed on the…case we were working. Let's just say that it was a very dangerous situation, and we lost a few men…If you hadn't turned over the info, we might've lost even more, and well…I don't know for sure what would've happened, but I probably wouldn't be standing here talking to you today, and the colonel…he could've been—"

"—killed?"

"Yeah...but he wasn't, and now he's gone back—"

"—To the 'extremely dangerous' place you mentioned, so that he can keep on doing what needs doing, right?" Before Bates could respond, she added, "Oh, but I'm not supposed to ask you questions about that."

Bates simply nodded and stood to go. Nancy realized that he was about to walk out without further word and called out to him. "Agent Bates!" He stopped but didn't turn around. "Thank you…for, you know…coming here personally, and well…"

Bates gave a slight nod and walked out, leaving Nancy feeling strangely at odds and wondering how she had arrived at this juncture.

She knew that she should put John straight out of her mind. After all, she was happily married to Grant…wasn't she? She reached for the picture she kept of Grant on her desk and studied it. Of course, she was happy. She had a husband who loved her and had time for her. A husband who didn't leave her at the drop of a hat in the middle of the night, taking off to who knew where.

So, what if Grant didn't like Ferris wheels or shared her love of college football or even of rock climbing and in-line skating? Those were all childish pursuits that she and John had enjoyed together. In fact, sometimes he seemed little more than a big kid himself who dismissed as unimportant anything that didn't involve flying or going faster than 200 mph.

In all fairness, John drew the line at the in-line skating. He happily accompanied her on his skateboard as she skated, performing his usual feats of derring-do on the sidewalks of the National Mall. She had really loved those times together, taking in the amazing sights of the Nation's Capital, while laughing at John's antics. Now that she thought of it, she hadn't skated since the divorce—nor been on a Ferris wheel, for that matter.

What if since her promotion to Director, her hours and amount of travel to different parts of the country had increased on occasion? What if she sometimes caught Grant looking at her the same way she used to look at John when he had to pick up and leave at a moment's notice? What of that? It didn't mean anything…did it?

Thinking of John brought on a familiar pang, and she forced herself to focus on the picture of Grant she was holding in her hands. This was her reality now, the life she had chosen for herself. She was happy, she told herself.

Then why was her vision suddenly blurring, and why had the old, well-known pain in her chest inexplicably returned?

"He's not you," she whispered looking at the picture. But whom was she really addressing—Grant or John? As she replaced the picture on the desk, she privately admitted that she lacked the courage to answer herself truthfully….

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