Chapter 3

Sheppard handed the cab driver $40 and told him to keep the change. He was dog tired and couldn't be bothered to wait while the man groped around for the right money just so he could tip him anyway.

The man thanked him and set off before he could even pick his kit bag up from the kerb. Sheppard remained there a moment, looking at his house and wishing it didn't feel so...uninviting. Now home, he missed the buzz and the camaraderie of his unit back in Afghanistan. Here, well, here he knew whatever problems he faced were his in the making. Here, he wasn't battling bad guys, just personal demons...and a wife who was tiring of the emotional strain it took to reach him.

Shouldering his bag, he dug deep into his pocket to find his front door key and headed down the path to let himself in.

The house was, as always, spotless. It seemed somehow sterile compared to what he faced out on duty. Sanitised. Just like the truth of his marriage. To outsiders, he and Nancy probably looked like the ideal couple, successful professionals with everything to live for, and their home was bright and uncluttered as if reflective of a simple happiness. Of course, both he and Nancy knew that couldn't be further from the truth. Their marriage was dying, withering without the love and attentiveness he should have given her. But he just couldn't do it. It all felt too perfect somehow, had done from the very day she'd agreed to marry him. And his disbelief that he deserved someone like Nancy was forcing them apart even though he suspected she really had wanted him as much as he wanted her.

It was stiflingly quiet as he walked through the lobby and into the living room. Everything sat just about where it had been when he'd last left the house. Sure, the book on the coffee table was a different one, and the TV remote was maybe a little further to the right beside it, but it was almost exactly as he remembered. So much order – so much cohesion. He was used to reacting to chaos, to thinking on his feet, to fighting for his life and the lives of others. This was too neat... too ordered. He felt like moving things just for the sake of it, maybe putting all the cushions at one end of the sofa instead of neatly spaced and exactly angled, or perhaps rearranging the ornaments on the bookshelves, but he wouldn't. This was Nancy's space...and this was how she dealt with her inner turmoil. It was childish to even think of changing things just to get a reaction.

With a sigh, he took his kit upstairs and prepared to unpack, deciding against it in the end, and instead dumping the heavy bag in one of their guest bedrooms. It spoiled the neatness and order in that room, but it wasn't in use so he could shut the door on it and forget about it until he was less tired in the morning.

Right now, his priority was taking a shower, changing his clothes, and getting something to eat and drink, and although he would prefer to do that in some other order, he knew if he sat down and relaxed he wouldn't be able to force himself back up off the sofa to get cleaned up.

So, he headed into his bedroom – Nancy's bedroom really, the finish far too precise and feminine for him to lay any claim to – and pulled out a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt from his wardrobe, tossing them onto the bed for when he was ready. That done, he headed into the en-suite and set the shower running to give the water time to warm up while he stripped down and threw his clothes into the laundry hamper. He'd been travelling for over thirty-six hours to get home now, catching sleep where he could, and his clothes had begun to feel like they were welded to him. It was a relief to be free of them, and he gave himself a moment to just enjoy the feel of the comfortable heat of his air conditioned home on his skin before getting clean. He pulled out a towel and his bottle of shower gel from the bathroom cabinet, noting Nancy's toiletries neatly arranged on her side of the mirrored cupboard. He pulled out a bottle of her body spray and gave it a squirt, just to feel like he had company, the distinctive floral aroma reminding him of happier times before his inadequacies and his job had wedged themselves firmly between them. Sometimes he wished he'd taken the easy route in life and followed in his father's footsteps to take up a position in the family business, but only sometimes. He knew it would never have actually worked, the two of them working together. In some ways they were too alike, neither of them liking to take advice from others. No, he'd been better leaving the business to Dave; he was happy to brown-nose so long as he was well paid for it.

He took his time in the shower, just leaning against the back wall for a long time and allowing the water to relax his aching limbs. Then, realising he was likely to fall asleep in there if he got any more relaxed, he washed up and jumped out, tying a towel around his hips while he shaved and splashed on some aftershave, before rubbing his damp hair almost dry and heading back into the bedroom. As he pulled out his underwear and socks a flashing red light caught his eye, and he realised there was a message on the telephone on Nancy's nightstand. He leaned over and pressed the button to listen to it, hearing her voice for the first time in weeks.

'Hi...it's me...I thought you might be back by now, but I guess not. Anyway, I'm just calling to let you know something urgent came up at work so I'm gonna have to stay late tonight. Help yourself to whatever food there is and...don't wait up.'

Sheppard stared at the answer phone as if that might somehow make the message sound...warmer. No 'Hope you had a good trip', or 'I'll call later to make sure you're there,' not even a 'Love you' to finish, just 'don't wait up'. After six months apart, did she really care so little that she couldn't delegate for one night? Yeah, he supposed that was the case, and he couldn't blame her. And after the dozens of times he'd had to head out leaving her scribbled notes or phone messages with no clue as to where he was going or when he'd be back, he supposed he couldn't blame her.

With her emotionless message playing on loop in his head, he dressed and headed down to the kitchen to see what he could rustle up, deciding to seek out the positives in the call. She had at least called, not texted, so she had probably been hoping to talk to him. That was a good thing.

He headed straight for the fridge, finding a six pack of Bud chilling on the top shelf. At least she'd thought that much about him. He pulled one free and cracked it open as he perused the contents of the fridge, deciding it all looked like it would take far more time to prepare than he wanted to put into it. So he ordered a pizza and ambled into the living room, putting his feet up on the coffee table and flicking through TV channels until he found a quiz show to occupy his mind. He'd found quizzes, computer games and Sudoku to be the best ways to keep his brain busy and stop his mind from wandering to the many sights he'd rather forget from his tour of duty, and right now, a quiz was the best one because it required absolutely no physical input from his exhausted body.

He had been spouting answers at the screen and decrying the ineptitude of the contestants for fifteen minutes when the doorbell rang. He checked his watch, thinking it was a little quick to be the pizza, but hopeful all the same. When he reached the door, he realised he had indeed been too optimistic. The man on the doorstep wasn't carrying a pizza box, just a notebook.

'Oh...oh, hi!' he blustered, his face colouring up to the almost exact same shade of his red sweater. 'I saw the TV on and thought Nancy was home. You must be John.' He shoved the book under his left arm and thrust out his right hand for a handshake.

Sheppard accepted the gesture. 'That's right, and you are?'

'Grant...I moved in across the street a couple of months ago. Nancy and I got chatting a few weeks back and discovered we shared a love of cooking. She loaned me her book of favourite recipes she's been collecting so I could copy any I liked the sound of...I was just returning it.'

'Ah, right,' Sheppard nodded, looking at the book still tucked under Grant's arm and wondering when he was going to get around to the returning it part. 'Well, nice to meet you, Grant.'

'Oh, and I just wanted to say that I think what you guys do out in Afghanistan...you know, keeping those Taliban in order, I wanted to say you're doing a great job,' he stammered, firing off a sheepish grin and rocking back on his heels.

Sheppard couldn't help noticing how uncomfortable the guy seemed about talking to him, and the way he kept looking past him into the house. He really wanted to talk to Nancy.

'Uh, Nancy isn't here. She's working late tonight. I'll take that for her, shall I?'

'Oh...oh, yeah. Tell her I said thanks,' Grant nodded, sliding the book out and passing it to him.

The pizza delivery truck chose that moment to turn up, clearly demonstrating that Sheppard himself didn't share his wife's enthusiasm for all things culinary.

'Pizza, huh?' Grant grinned , thumbing back at it. 'Can't say I blame you. Pity Nancy couldn't be here to cook you up one of those dishes.'

'Yeah, it is. Well, it's been real nice meeting you, Grant,' he repeated, hoping the guy would take the hint.

'You too, John. Keep up the good work.'

Sheppard didn't answer that, just watched the man all the way back across to his house until the pizza delivery guy shoved a box into his face to remind him he was waiting for payment.

He settled the bill, plus a little on top, and then closed the door on the world, heading back to the lounge. He pulled out the biggest slice in the box and absently bit into it as he opened Nancy's notebook on his lap and leafed through, finding dozens of recipes, some cut out of magazines, some photocopied and some jotted down in her meticulously beautiful handwriting. She'd never cooked any of them for him, not one, and yet she'd shared this book and her love of cooking with Grant and he was almost a complete stranger.

Then he thought about the awkwardness in the guy's manner when he'd found him there and not his wife, and the formal way in which he'd shaken his hand, squeezing it in an alpha male kind of challenge.

Perhaps he'd been wrong about the man. Perhaps Grant wasn't almost a complete stranger to Nancy after all.

oooOOOooo

After their guest had been moved to more comfortable quarters, with a locking door and two guards for good measure, Daniel arrived at those quarters to collect her for their first interview. As he slipped in through the door, the look she gave him made him incredibly uncomfortable, almost as if he were the one being evaluated, not her. She sat on the edge of her bed peering back over her shoulder at him, her eyes drifting from his face down to his boots and back up again, but her expression reflecting no warmth or welcome. He chose to ignore the cool reception and press on with the task he'd been charged with.

'Uh, hi, Sarayah. I hope you're settling in.'

'This place is like a prison cell...no light, no air,' she grunted, turning away from him and folding her arms across herself. 'I've tended animals living in better accommodation than this.'

Well, that hadn't quite been the answer he'd expected, but he decided not to ask her how many prison cells she'd frequented and tried to make friends with her instead.

'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. This is actually one of our better rooms...you should see mine...' She glared back at him, clearly unmoved by his tale. '...in comparison to this,' he finished, his voice fading as he realised his attempt at levity had failed completely.

'But you aren't forced to stay here, are you?' she asked, turning away and facing a painting on the back wall, an impressive depiction of the Grand Canyon.

'No, no I'm not...but neither are you...not exactly.'

That seemed to pique her interest and she turned his way again, standing at last. 'Then I'm not a prisoner?'

'No...not a prisoner,' Daniel drawled, certain he knew where this line of questioning was going.

'So I'm free to leave?'

'Well, no...not really.' He scratched his head, thinking about how best to word his explanation. 'You see, you've been telling us you're from another planet, and...well, it wouldn't be fair of us to just let you got out in our big, bad world alone.'

She arched an eyebrow. 'I believe I could handle this "Earth" of yours.'

Now that he didn't doubt for a second. 'Yes...yes, you probably could, but we'd prefer to prepare you a little for what you can expect out there. Besides...you still need medical care,' he told her, dipping his head toward her missing hand.

She put that arm behind her back as if trying to forget about it. 'What are you doing here?' she demanded, her dark eyes flashing with annoyance.

'Ah, well, we were hoping you would answer some questions for us. If we ever want to find a way of sending you home, we need some better clues about where exactly "home" is.'

Her eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down again. 'You would do that for me? Send me home?'

'Sure. If we can.'

'You possess a Ring of the Ancestors?'

'Well...that depends on what you mean by –'

'A Stargate...that's what John Sheppard called it.'

And there it was, proof positive that she had knowledge of the Stargate. Along with that name again. But how would John Sheppard have known anything about the Stargate if he was running casualty evacuation flights in Afghanistan? Someone else had obviously told her the name they used for the 'gate, and they were always careful not to give that kind of information away to just anyone. 'This Mr Sheppard seems to know an awful lot,' he muttered.

'Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard,' she growled, slowly enunciating each word as if he'd gravely insulted the man.

'Sorry, yes...of course.'

Daniel found her reaction rather odd. He'd been led to believe from her file that she hated this Sheppard guy, yet here she was defending him, insisting he use the man's full rank when talking about him. Still, he figured he might be able to use this obvious "interest" in the man to draw her out. 'Well, if you're feeling up to it, we'd like to hear more about you...and this Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard. It might help us to figure out how best to help you.'

She stared at him a moment without answering. He got the feeling he was dealing with a very sharp mind in this one, always gauging things before speaking, deciding just how much to give away. Then she nodded. 'Very well.'

'Great. If you'd follow me this way.' He pointed at the door and scuttled out of it, hearing Sarayah's solid, confident steps just behind him. She didn't carry herself like a lost soul with no place to go. She barely showed any sign of concern at all for the fact she was supposedly displaced from all she found familiar.

The guards walked along just behind them both, accompanying them into the elevator to take them down two floors to where Sam was waiting in a room they'd set up for the interrogation. He opened the door and allowed Sarayah to enter first, the woman now showing the first signs of any kind of unease as she faltered a few steps beyond the threshold.

Sam was standing in front of the table, fingers casually knitted in front of her, wearing a warm smile. 'Hi Sarayah, I'm –'

'Colonel Samantha Carter,' Sarayah finished for her. 'But you look...different. Your hair...it was much longer when we last met.'

Sam's jaw dropped, but she recovered well. 'Actually it's Major Samantha Carter, and this is how I always look. How do you know my name?'

Daniel watched a frown score its way into Sarayah's forehead. 'We've met before. Don't you recall?'

So now, not only had this John Sheppard guy supposedly been in her galaxy, but Sam had too. Either Sarayah's delusions were becoming more complex or there really was some truth to the alternate reality theory, especially since she'd said Sam looked different.

'Really?' Sam looked at Daniel, clearly concerned.

'You remember, we met on a planet where people who committed terrible crimes went to be judged.'

Recalling what Sarayah had supposedly said when picked up by the helicopter, Daniel steered her toward the chair on the far side of the table where the camera was aimed. Behind it, they'd set up a forty inch screen to enlarge her face for those watching from behind a one way window in the observation area, not that she would know what it was for.

She eyed the screen suspiciously as she sat down, noting that it bore her image as she turned to look at it. 'Am I really this fascinating?' she asked, turning back and flashing them a smirk.

'Actually...yes...yes you are,' Daniel nodded, trying his best to keep his expression and body language open, even though she gave him the creeps. He sat down opposite her as she eyed Sam again. There was something odd about the way she looked at her, as if she really were taking in her differences.

'So this planet...you went there for judgement?' he pressed.

She shook her head. 'No...I never truly believed it could happen when I went there. I thought it was a story to frighten those foolish enough to believe.'

'And now?'

Her dark eyes fixed on him. 'I will be more careful not to dismiss the beliefs of others in the future.'

He chuckled, nodding. 'Yes, that's probably wise. You see, I've made a career of studying the traditions and customs of people in our planet's history, and most beliefs have some element of truth in them.'

Her attention had drifted from him before he'd even finished his sentence, his attempts at conversation clearly boring her. He tried not to take offence.

'You say you think we met on this planet,' Sam interjected, taking up the baton. 'What was I doing there?'

That question apparently amused their guest. 'Are you worried you were some kind of criminal?'

Sam's smile was markedly tighter than usual. 'Well, the thought had crossed my mind.'

'You needn't worry, your record will be blemish free, I'm sure. You had personnel trapped there, you came through to help.'

'Help in what way?' Sam asked.

'You're an expert in the Ring of the Ancestors. The one on the planet wouldn't dial out so you came to help fix it.'

Beside him, Daniel heard her surprise in the way Sam drew breath. Whatever she might have overheard about the word Stargate, there was no way Sarayah could know that Sam was the foremost expert in 'gate technology without it having been discussed with her.

Despite her apparent growing discomfort with the situation, Sam asked her another question. 'Did I solve the problem?'

'Not that I'm aware of. Neither you nor Dr McKay could figure out a way to make it work while I was there...but then...' she looked down at her hand, 'then I woke in horrendous pain with no clue how I got to this land.'

She cast out the name so casually that Daniel almost missed the import, but she'd mentioned Rodney McKay, the bane of Sam's life, and self-professed genius. He exchanged a look with Sam, who had clearly noticed too. For now, neither of them chose to pursue the matter.

Instead, Daniel flipped open the file on Sarayah, careful not to show the photographs of her injury. 'Apparently, when you were picked up, you said, "See? I wasn't judged. I am still here." Does that mean anything to you?'

She frowned, clearly trying to recall. Then she nodded. 'The light...he summoned the Divine One and it consumed me...but I survived.'

'I'm sorry...who summoned the Divine One?'

'John Sheppard.'

'And what is 'The Divine One'?

She rolled her eyes as if she thought he should be keeping up far better than he was. 'The one who sits in judgement on the planet we were trapped on. A powerful energy being who will either take your life or spare it –'

'And so because you survived, you feel you weren't judged,' Daniel finished for her.

Sarayah just nodded.

He flipped on a little further to more conversations medical staff had made written records of. 'So, you're from somewhere called Medulsa. Where is that...exactly?'

'You've not heard of it?' She narrowed her eyes at him. 'Surely Col...Major Carter told you of my homeworld.'

'It must have slipped her mind,' he smiled. 'Why don't you tell me about it?'

Her expression changed at that point. 'I don't know you well enough to share that kind of information. You might use it against me.'

'Is there some reason we should want to do that?' Sam asked, picking up on the insinuation that she had reason to fear some kind of reprisal. 'We have nothing against you or your people...do we?'

The next change in Sarayah's expression was hard to read at first, but suddenly she looked, just for the briefest of moments, a tiny bit afraid.

'What trick are you trying to pull here?' she asked, what tiny scrap of warmth she may have exuded now entirely disappearing from her manner. 'You know all you need to know about me.'

'Actually, we know very little...that's why we want to talk to you.'

'I've already said more than enough,' she snapped, folding her arms and glaring at them. 'If you need to know any more about me, ask John Sheppard. He knows me very well.'

'And exactly how well do you know him?' Carter asked, her tone also losing its friendly edge now.

'Well enough for him to do this,' Sarayah spat, holding up her handless arm. 'And I demand recompense before I say anything else.'

And that was her final comment, no matter how many more questions they put to her. In the end, at 2030 hours, they brought the interview to a close and escorted her to her quarters, where she would remain until they tried again.

'So, what now?' Daniel asked as they headed away from her guarded room.

'Now we get clearance to find this John Sheppard and we bring him in. If Sarayah is so sure he knows her, it might be worth finding out if she's right.'

oooOOOooo

Sheppard woke to the sound of curtains drawing back and the shock of sunlight hitting him straight in the eyes. He was still slouched on the sofa where he'd fallen asleep the previous evening, feet propped on the coffee table, but now with a blanket draped over him. He didn't recall the blanket...that was definitely new. He blinked against the brilliance of the morning until he brought the silhouetted figure in front of the window into focus.

Nancy looked troubled as she gazed down at him, not even a flicker of a smile on her face. 'I told you not to wait up for me.'

Not the morning welcome he'd been hoping for, but at least she'd given him the blanket. He stretched out his stiff neck with a groan, setting his feet on the floor and scooting forward to straighten out the kinks in his back. 'I didn't. I just fell asleep watching TV.'

'And reading my recipe book,' she said in a slightly accusatory way, as if she'd caught him reading her diary.

He looked down at the book, which had fallen into his lap as he'd sat up straight. 'Well, Grant stopped by to give it back to you. He says thanks, by the way.'

Her face flushed and she played with her hair in a worrying way, looking at just about anything in the room other than him.

'I didn't know you were into cookery,' he added, trying to keep the conversation alive.

She shrugged as if it were a minor thing. 'No, well, it's a recent realisation,' she told him. 'It helped me pass the evenings when I was worrying about whether you were dead or not.'

And so it began to go downhill. 'Nancy –'

'You want some breakfast? I made pancakes.'

She strode out of the room and after a few seconds wondering where all that had come from he followed her out, sitting down at the granite breakfast bar while she busied herself at the hob.

She set a plate piled high with pancakes in front of him along with a jug of maple syrup. That was followed by a mug of steaming hot, strong coffee. 'There you go.'

'Thanks.'

She sat down opposite him with a small bowl of Special K and a glass of orange juice, along with a pile of papers, presumably work related.

'That all you're having? You can share my pancakes,' he offered.

She raised her large brown eyes to his, and smiled for the first time. 'Thanks, but not all of us are blessed with metabolisms as fast as the jet planes you fly.'

He paused as she returned her attention to her reading, wondering whether he should correct her. Then, remembering how he'd felt finding out she had a hobby he had no idea about, he decided he should. 'I'm flying helicopters at the moment...moving troops and supplies, evacuating the injured, that kind of thing.'

Her beautiful brown eyes met and held his again, a hint of surprise on her face. 'Really? I...I'm sorry...I had no idea. You...you must have seen some terrible things.'

He could see something there in her eyes, a pain, a yearning of some kind, and he realised she wanted him to open up to her, to share a piece of himself that was real and raw.

As always, he simply looked away and shrugged. 'You get used to it,' he lied, not wishing to sully her mind with the true horrors he'd witnessed.

He heard her sigh and she went back to reading again.

The silence that followed weighed heavily between them, as did his guilt for letting her down when she'd offered to listen. But the things he'd seen weren't meant to be shared with people like Nancy. Bubbly, intelligent, beautiful, Nancy. He could smell her perfume, her shampoo and even the natural scent of her skin from that distance, and she was wearing a dress that hugged in all the right places. Right at that moment he could have grabbed hold of her and kissed her in the hope it would melt all this ice between them, but he wasn't sure it would be welcome any more. 'You look nice,' he blurted out, trying to move things in another direction.

'Thanks. I'm picking Mom up in an hour. We're having a girly day in the city...getting our hair done, having lunch, then a shopping spree.'

'Today?' His stomach sank. Since he'd got back at six yesterday evening they'd spent a sum total of ten minutes together and now she was talking about going out without him.

'Well, I'm sorry, John, but I made these plans weeks ago. It's not like you run to an exact schedule. I've known you be over a week late home before, with little more than a text at the last minute to tell me you've been delayed. How was I supposed to know you'd make it back on time?' She looked as upset as he felt, but although the right thing would have been to accept she was right, he couldn't just let it go.

'Couldn't you postpone it and go next week?'

She stared at him, her eyes glistening. 'It's her birthday, John. I guess you've forgotten that.'

Crap. Yes he had. It wasn't like his in-laws' birthdays had been a high priority while flying for his life or for the lives of others. Could she not understand that? Could she not even begin to comprehend the kinds of things he was up against on a daily basis out there? No...of course she couldn't...because he never told her anything.

'I'm sorry...I did forget. Wish her a happy birthday from me.'

'Yeah...I will.'

She got on with eating while reading, and he picked at his pancakes, looking at her soft brown waves and flawless complexion and realising how much he'd missed seeing her every day. Sadly, he didn't get the impression she felt the same. She'd barely looked at him when not so many years ago she would have had trouble keeping her hands off him the moment he set foot through the door. Their relationship was dying because he'd neglected her through no choice of his own. While he sank deeper into his own sense of misery his mind wandered to Grant. The man's behaviour when he'd seen him standing at the door and not Nancy had been awkward to say the least, and that handshake, as if trying to usurp Sheppard in his own territory, had been far firmer than the situation had required. Plus Grant and Nancy had talked about food...maybe they'd even tried out some of those recipes together. Food was kind of intimate when you really thought about it, something that not only sustained life, but also celebrated great moments in life – birthdays, holidays, romantic dates...and of course he wasn't the only man in the world who would think of Nancy as desirable. Every man in his right mind would see her that way, and now she wasn't as besotted with him as she'd once been, it might be possible for one of those many potential admirers to catch her eye.

He was losing her... to a man who liked baking...

'Why don't I go through that recipe book of yours and pick something to cook us for dinner tonight?' he suggested, trying to take an interest in her, trying to make a connection.

Nancy just shook her head. 'No...not when I'm having lunch out. I'll just have a fruit salad or some soup when I get back.'

'I think you could eat two big meals in one day without worrying, honey –'

'I said no...thank you.'

He dropped the subject, knowing her tone meant pressing for more would only make things worse. Perhaps a day alone to gather his thoughts would be a good thing; maybe later he'd be able to find some way to talk to her that actually meant something rather than a bunch of words thrown together to fill the silence.

'Maybe tomorrow,' he said more quietly, and she just nodded without comment.

Once her breakfast was finished she made an excuse to leave the kitchen to get ready, although she looked like she'd already done everything other than grab a jacket and her bag. He wanted to follow her upstairs to try to apologise for...for something...for anything that might make her look at him the way she used to, but he was too proud to do that. Even though he knew it was his job and his hang-ups that were coming between them, he also knew there was no way he could change those things. They were what made him who he was; he couldn't apologise for that.

He headed over to the window and looked out on his street, watching a couple of kids skateboarding past, and another one delivering the morning papers on his bike. A couple of years back he'd wanted to do the whole kids thing with Nancy. Now he couldn't help but feel glad they'd decided against it.

Over in his house, Grant was also looking out of his window. As soon as he noticed Sheppard had spotted him he made a big deal of messing around with his curtains to cover the fact he'd been watching their home, or more precisely, looking for Nancy. Sheppard's thoughts slipped to wondering if their relationship had already gone beyond the sharing recipes stage...

'Right, I'm gonna head out,' Nancy announced, walking into the lounge without him even having heard her descend the stairs.

He spun round. 'Already?'

'Yeah, well, I just remembered I need to fill the tank so I ought to go now.' She bustled across the room and reached up to plant a brisk kiss on his cheek. 'I'll see you later. Try to get some more rest; you look exhausted.'

He nodded and followed her out, standing on the doorstep as she headed out toward her car. It occurred to him then that she hadn't even asked if he would like to join her. Shouldn't she at least have offered him that chance?

A black car with dark windows pulled up at the end of their driveway. Nancy stopped next to her car and stared at it, clearly just as surprised as he was.

A man about the same age as him in dress uniform jumped out of the back. 'Major Sheppard?'

'That's right,' Sheppard replied, watching as the man took that as an invitation to approach.

'Good morning.' He dipped his head at Nancy. 'Ma'am.'

She gave him a tight smile, but John could see she wasn't happy.

'Major Sheppard, I'm sorry to bother you. I'm Major Davis of the United States Air Force and I've been asked to pick you up.'

Sheppard frowned. The guy looked trustworthy enough – you could usually tell from peoples' eyes, and he had honest eyes. But why would anyone want Davis to pick him up?

'What's this about?' Nancy asked, momentarily forgetting her journey and walking over toward them.

The man stopped half way up their path and waited for her to join him before replying. 'I'm sorry, Mrs Sheppard, but I can't disclose any details. All I can say is there was an incident in Afghanistan and your husband's name came up during the investigation. We just need him to answer a few questions.'

'Am I in trouble?' Sheppard asked, wracking his brain for anything he might have done wrong.

Davis shook his head. 'No, it's nothing like that, Major. We really do just need you to clear a few things up for us.' He gestured toward the car. 'If you'd like to join me I'll explain what I can on the way to the airport.'

'Ok...can I at least ask where you're taking him? Nancy demanded.

That was one question the major was apparently allowed to answer. 'Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Base. Don't worry, ma'am. We should have him back to you in a few days.'

That polite response did little to placate Nancy's mounting agitation. 'A few days! John, what did you do?' she gasped, her gaze little short of accusatory.

'Nothing!' Sheppard turned to Major Davis, exasperated. 'Major, I only just got home last night. Are you sure this can't wait?'

To his credit, the man had the decency to look apologetic. 'I'm sorry, but I'm acting under instruction from the president himself. You should probably pack a few things.'

The president? What the hell had he got himself into? 'I haven't even had chance to unpack!'

'Not a problem, Major,' Major Davis said with a smile. 'If you grab your kit bag we'll make sure it's laundered at the facility.'

Apparently, there was no getting out of this. Sheppard looked at Nancy, her expression a mingling of disappointment and anger. 'I'm sorry –'

'Don't worry, I'm used to it,' she choked, fighting back tears. 'And it's not like you can say no to the president.'

'Nancy!'

'Just go, John. I'll see you when you get back.'

She strode away again, jumping into her car and backing out of the driveway without another look in his direction.

Major Davis gave him a sympathetic smile. 'I take it this is a bad time?'

'No worse than any other,' Sheppard muttered, watching her car turn the corner at the end of the street. 'I'll go get my stuff.'

Yesterday, he'd thought things were a little too ordered and quiet for him. It seemed all that might be about to change.

A/N: Once again, thanks for all the reviews alerts and favourites so far. They're very much appreciated and welcomed. :)