Thank you so much for the reviews, and the alerts. John is really in dire straights this time, isn't he? Well on with the next chapter and apologies for the bad language to start, but the man is rather upset...
REUNION
CHAPTER 4
He was only a fucking kid. Ronon had gone to the precinct wanting to tear his heart out. Get payback for the man who was more like a brother than a friend. Yet instead of a man he'd found a boy instead. A snivelling excuse of a human being, cowering in the corner of the tiny cell, so high on whatever crap he'd pumped into his system the bastard didn't even know what day it was.
Whenever Sheppard had spoken about Earth he'd made it sound like a freaking Utopia. A place of wonders, equality for all, and opportunities for anyone prepared to work hard. Not a place where kids were so out of control they took drugs, thieved and gunned unarmed people down in the street.
Frustration replaced anger at a planet that allowed their young to turn out like this. On Sateda, a boy became a man at fifteen. Expected to take his place by his father's side on the farm or in the family business. Education was a privilege, and if you were one of those chosen to study at the Educationary, you brought pride not just to yourself, but also your kin. Disrespect, not allowed. Once, as a cocky kid of fourteen he'd dared to talk back to his mother. Ronon flinched when he remembered how that woman stared at him for a moment, didn't say a word, then suddenly grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to the john, shoving his head in the water for so long, he almost fucking drowned.
Discipline, pure and simple, taught Satedan kids how to behave, what was expected of them, and in a very real sense showed they were loved. Because if your folks didn't care, why would they bother? He knew it would surprise McKay to learn he had graduated first in his year, with an option to continue his studies. Except, much to his mother's disappointment, he'd chosen the army instead, a career he was born for, quickly rising through the ranks to become a specialist, second only to the commander himself. Ronon knew his folks would have preferred him to choose medicine, but in the end they were content he was doing something he enjoyed, something worthwhile, which gave him a sense of honour and pride.
He watched as the scrawny, pale faced kid shuddered in a trembling heap…withdrawal. It reminded him of the agonies he'd endured coming off the Wraith enzyme, and shamefully, what he very nearly did under its influence. The difference here was that his addiction was enforced by a fucking Wraith, who to gain control over his mind, painfully took his life again and again, only to give it back with a little bit more of the enzyme each time. Unlike this greedy SOB who poisoned his body deliberately, stole to fund his habit and didn't care who he hurt to get the money. None of it made any sense to him. It was dumb and pathetic; this boy wasn't worth his sympathy, and certainly wasn't worth the effort in taking his life.
"Ronon." He dragged his eyes off John's attacker and moved into the relative privacy of the corridor before he answered the hail. "Hi, McKay. What's the news?"
"Caldwell will be here to transport Sheppard in a few minutes. Do you want a ride?"
"Nope. Would rather walk…need to clear my head." Fact was, he really wanted to tear someone apart, but as the newbie's didn't deserve his aggression, a long walk would have to do instead.
"You do know it's over fifteen miles to the base?" Rodney responded, surprised, and for a second Ronon was tempted to snark back that maybe he should join him, he could do with the exercise, Except everyone was touchy at the moment, especially McKay. Besides, he liked the guy, and didn't want to hurt his feelings. "I'm good, Rodney…see you later."
As he turned back into the holding area, he saw another youth being un-cuffed and led towards a waiting cell. But just as he went to pass by the boy shouted out. "How is your friend, Mister?"
"Excuse me?" Ronon stopped and stared at the boy, surprised.
"It was my brother who shot him." Tears glistened in a face full of remorse as the youth continued. "He told me the gun was just to scare people…it wasn't even supposed to be loaded. I'm…I'm so sorry. I didn't want to leave him lying there like that…but Tony threatened if I didn't help him, he'd shoot me too. Anyway, I ran away as soon as I could and called for help. He looked real bad. Is he going to be okay?"
Ronon wanted to grab him, shake some sense into him for being so stupid as to get involved in a life of crime. Still, he knew family bonds ran deep, and sometimes you made the wrong choices to help those you cared for, even those who'd lost their way. At least his actions had given Sheppard a chance of survival.
"No. No…he isn't kid, but he will be." Words of comfort to someone who probably didn't deserve them, or maybe said just to give himself hope. Ronon didn't know, but as he left the brightly lit building and walked into the rain, he welcomed the shower. The sharp bite of the San Francisco breeze chilling his skin as it whipped across his face. Then he ran…like his life depended on it. Just like he did when he was a runner. Just like he'd done for seven years until he'd met Sheppard when his life had changed forever.
ooooOoooo
Dave groaned as he raised his head off the pillow only to flinch against the sun streaming through the window, and instantly let it drop again. His mouth felt like he'd been chewing burnt rubber…whatever the hell that tasted like, and the pounding in his head so hard it was a wonder his eyes hadn't popped out by now.
Part of him knew he should really try opening them again, find out where he was. The other part was less curious, happy to keep the mystery and the world at bay a little longer. It didn't take Columbo to figure out someone had stripped him to his boxers and put him to bed, but the who and the where, less obvious. All he could recall, was downing the best part of half a litre of scotch before being carried? Yup…carried, by John's friend Ronon. The nauseating feeling of being thrown over his shoulder and swinging upside down, was something he really, really didn't want to repeat. After that though everything was a little fuzzy. Not one damn thing came to mind, except one…John.
A sound of someone humming, then the gurgling laughter of a child flew his eyes open, to reveal a woman, sitting by his bed bouncing a small dark haired child on her lap. She was beautiful...
Suddenly self-conscious, he grabbed the sheets and pulled them against his chin. "Do I know you?" Dave asked, surprised to hear he sounded as rough as he felt.
The woman merely smiled. "I should hope so, as it was me who put you to bed last night, Mr Sheppard."
"Wha…" Dave felt himself blush for the first time in years as the woman continued. "My name is Teyla. I'm one of John's friends. We met at the hospital yesterday."
"Right, so we did." He coughed, suddenly remembering, but mortified at the whole being put to bed scenario. "Okay, Teyla, thanks…Anyway, could you possibly tell me where I am, because this doesn't look like the Hilton to me."
As his eyes became more focused, it was clear he was in some kind of military facility, but it was nothing like anything he'd ever imagined, with sculpted metal walls and a long narrow window…and was that spires he could see?
Almost as if she sensed his thoughts, he saw her rise off the chair, put the child gently on the floor where he proceeded to play with a toy dog, and head over to close the blinds. "Ronon and Rodney brought you here last night, knowing that John was being transferred here today. However as this is a restricted facility, Mr Woolsey, the base commander, would like you to stay here until he has had a chance to visit. In the meantime I've been asked to make sure you're comfortable. In fact, Doctor Beckett asked me to give you these." Telya took a couple of Tylenol and a glass of water from the nightstand, and handed them to him.
Angry at being confined, Dave pushed her hand away, spilling the water over the floor and started to jump out of bed when he suddenly remembered he was only wearing boxers. "My clothes would be a good start, then I'd like to see my brother…now."
"All in good time, Mr Sheppard." Dave turned to see a bald, bespectacled man standing at the open door. "Colonel Sheppard is at present being settled into our ICU, then I believe Doctor Beckett will be carrying out a number of scans. After that, I will have someone escort you to the infirmary, but first I have some paperwork for you to sign."
Dave took the papers, read them carefully, took in the words "National Security" and "Non-disclosure" then stared at the two people standing by his bed. "This is a gagging order. What the hell type of facility is this?"
"David. May I call you that?" Telya asked, but Dave noticed she didn't wait for an answer before she continued. "I understand you must be feeling upset, angry even, but if you want to stay here, see John, please sign the papers. In a way, this is as much for your protection as it is for ours."
"Fine." Grabbing the pen, he scrawled his name across the two sheets, before handing it over.
"Thank you, and please excuse my manners for not introducing myself properly before. I'm Richard Woolsey. I run this base along with its military commander, your brother. Teyla," Woolsey turned to the Athosian. "Would you give our guest a guided tour?" At her nod he continued. "In the meantime, Mr Sheppard, welcome to Atlantis…"
ooooOoooo
If there was ever a time he needed a drink, it was now. Carson pushed back his chair, raking his hand through his hair and sighed. Most of the time he loved being a doctor, ministering to the sick and injured, and he was good at it too. He'd had more successes than failures, and it was hard to describe the sense of achievement he felt after he'd brought some one back from the brink to return to full health. A miracle worker some people called him, but that was a title he neither deserved nor wanted. He was just a medic.
Carson knew his miracles, came from years of training and hard graft, nothing more. Yet today he really wished it were true, as no matter how many scans he'd done, or whatever simulations he'd tried, the result was always the same. If Sheppard managed to survive the surgery, not only would his military career be over, but John would also be left with some form of serious disability. The agonising choice now was which was the better of the two hellish scenarios.
Better, of course, being a subjective term, because there was no favourable option here. It was either leave the man with little use of his right side, condemning him to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair, but with lesser damage to speech, sight and mental functions. Or, if he operated from the other direction, the front, John would regain more mobility, but his speech, sight and ability to reason would be left seriously and permanently impaired.
It was a tragic to think that John Sheppard would never be able to fly again, or do any of the activities he loved, and was destined to spend the rest of his life as an invalid. This once fit, vital man, his friend, who'd saved countless lives, time and time again didn't deserve to end his life like this. However, Carson knew that whatever decision was going to be made, had to be made, and soon. Sheppard's intracranial pressure was building at an alarming rate, and regardless of the probable outcome, the fact was, if he didn't operate soon, both options would become academic. John wouldn't survive the night.
ooooOoooo
"Excuse me, Mr Woolsey, but I've detected an energy signature circling the base. It's not from any commercial craft; I think it could be a jumper."
Richard raised his head from writing his weekly report to the IOA when he heard a rather anxious Chuck on the other end of the radio."Is it one of ours? he asked, knowing if it was, heads would roll… his amongst them since the IOA had forbidden any jumpers to leave the base. "Do you have eyes on it?"
"No, Sir," Chuck replied. "Whatever it is must be cloaked."
"It's a jumper all right," McKay said, as he planted himself at the consol seconds before Richard got to the command centre. "But although the signature is almost identical, there's an unusual resonance which tells me it's not one of ours. It's obviously been adapted in some way. Crap!" Rodney face grew alarmed. "We're receiving an unauthorised transmission…a data stream."
Richard ran over to peer over McKay's shoulder. "Can we block it?"
"Working on it…" Rodney's hands ran over the keyboard before he turned round and answered, "No…no I can't."
"Is it Wraith?" Both men shared a look of concern, before a few uneasy moments later Richard saw McKay's jaw drop open, a mystified expression on his face.
"What the hell? From what I can make out it's in Ancient…and it's a message for Carson Beckett."
ooooOoooo
TBC
Well...Who could it be? More clues coming up in the next chapter! Hope you enjoyed and please, as always let me know what you think.