Author's Note: "Did You Mean Me?" was written by Todd Agnew and recorded on his 2009 album, Need. I'm issuing a tissue alert in this chapter, though I don't know how many will need it. I cry every time I hear this song because of how real, how honest it is. To God be the glory! ~lg

oOo

John Sheppard settled into a chair in the mess hall. He dropped his stack of paperwork there and sighed. Lorne was coming, bringing the music for today's paperwork session, and Sheppard needed more coffee. He'd already had a cup that morning, but he hadn't slept well the night before. He really wished he could sleep, but that seemed to be a precious commodity lately.

Lorne appeared, carrying the CD player and his own stack of paperwork. "Sir," he said by way of greeting.

"Lorne." Sheppard headed for the kitchen to grab two large cups of coffee. They did this once a week, getting together to work on requisition forms, personnel transfers, mission reports, and any number of forms that required their signatures. It helped both men keep up, and they had learned that music made the time go faster.

Lorne had the music already playing by the time Sheppard returned to the table. He glanced up. "Hope you don't mind, Sir. My sister's in a band back on Earth, and she sent me a CD."

Sheppard shrugged. "No problem, Major."

The two men worked in silence for a time, both caught up in their work. Sheppard watched Lorne's head bob in time with some of the rock beats and wondered vaguely how the man could focus on his work and still keep time. Musical talent must run in the Lorne family along with artistic abilities.

A soft guitar introduction pulled Sheppard's attention from his work. He kept his eyes on his paperwork as he listened, already imagining the feel of his guitar strings under his fingers as he played the melody. It had been far too long, and the sudden urge to pick up the instrument surprised him.

I've heard these stories all my life
Every Sunday morning,
I met Jesus at the feltboard.

Sheppard blinked. This was Christian music? Since when did Lorne listen to Christian music?

Pushing the questions from his mind, he also shook away the images the words stirred in him. Those were innocent days. His mother took him to church, and he'd watched as the Sunday school teacher used a felt-covered board to tell stories, attaching paper figures with felt backing so they stuck to it. That was before his father said they couldn't go to church.

I've heard these stories so many times
Of how and why You died
And how I can live.

Sheppard remembered the Crucifixion story. He knew why Jesus had died. According to the Bible, anyway. Even though they didn't go to church, his mother made sure he knew the stories. He could still quote some of them.

But You said all sins can be forgiven
But when You said that did You mean me?
Did You mean me?

Sins. Sheppard understood sins. He had a few of them. Oh, he called them regrets. Failures. But they required absolution all the same. Colonel Sumner's face flashed through his mind, and he almost winced. He didn't think of Sumner often, only in the darkest moments. Most days, he pushed the memory of the shot he'd taken to the back of his mind, comforting himself with the idea that the Wraith Keeper had killed Sumner. But that hadn't been the killing blow.

Everett's arrival and Caldwell's caustic words as a Goa'uld ground his responsibility into him. He'd killed his commanding officer. No matter how many times he remembered Sumner's nod of permission, he'd taken the life of one of his men.

You said that we could be more like You,
But did You know what I'd do,
How I'd fall so short?

He'd fallen short. Sheppard set aside his pen and rubbed his eyes as if he were tired. He wanted to go get more coffee, but he knew he was running from the truth. He'd failed, and nothing he could have done would have changed anything. Faces popped into his mind, those he called his ghosts. Ford. Walker. Stevens. Carson. Elizabeth. Heightmeyer. All of these people had died or gone missing as a direct result of his failures and actions. Or inaction, in the case of Carson. It didn't help that Carson's code overrode everything. Sheppard should have been able to do something.

And You said confession leads to healing
Do You see I'm here and kneeling,
And I'm still not well?

He didn't want to confess. What would Lorne think if he suddenly started blubbering like a baby, spilling out all of these regrets? These sins? No, he couldn't take that step. Not here.

But You said that faith could move a mountain
But when You said that, did You mean me?

Did You mean me
When You said we were made in Your image?
'Cause I don't see much of You in this reflection.
Did You mean me
When You said we would do even greater things?
'Cause I don't see anything that I have to offer You.

What could God want with him? He was nothing, a failure. He'd arrived in Atlantis by sheer chance. How could he have known that something in his DNA would make him the perfect candidate for this position? A simple flight from McMurdo had led to his greatest mistakes.

Did You mean me?

You said that You would never leave us
But when You said that,
Did You mean me?

Nancy. Out of everything that he'd done since coming to Pegasus, Sheppard regretted his actions toward Nancy most. It wasn't because he'd killed her, but because he'd left her to rebuild her life. He knew their marriage problems grew from his inability to communicate. But what did he tell his wife when he came home from a black ops assignment that required him to kill another human being? Sheppard had no problem with war. He knew that it was inevitable. But the faces of those men and women, the children who strapped bombs to themselves, the desperation he'd seen overseas. . . . He couldn't subject Nancy to that. And she'd seen that as her failure.

By leaving her, he had told her that she'd failed him. And he thought that might be his biggest regret.

The song ended, but Sheppard's concentration had shattered. He kept hearing the question over and over again. Did You mean me? Did God mean John Sheppard when He said confession would heal him? Could there be repentance, absolution for him?

As Lorne gathered up the last of his paperwork, Sheppard held up a finger. "Hey, mind if I take that CD and copy it?"

Lorne shrugged. "Sure."

"Thanks." Sheppard grabbed the CD and headed for his quarters. He needed to think. Plugging the CD into his computer, he took up his guitar and perched on the edge of his bed. It had been too long since he took the time to truly think, to feel the weight of what he'd done. As he plucked the strings along with the song, his tears began to fall. Here, in private, he allowed the questions to flow. He didn't know if Anyone listened, but he willingly poured out his heart. As the song ended, he made the final two lines his prayer.

Please don't leave me.
Did You mean me?