Stargate Atlantis: Jokers Wild4
John stood in the center of the apartment, staring round. He swallowed. The rooms were quiet, dusty. Bare except for the most minimum of furnishings. Devoid of much personality except for a rack of DVDs and a Johnny Cash poster that was hanging from the wall, curling up at one end. There was a stack of unpaid and overdue bills on the table. There was an empty case of beer on the floor. There were hardly any personal mementos or artifacts to mark the life once lived here.
John felt like a ghost in his own life. Or rather a ghost in his doppelganger's life as he stared round the apartment that had once belonged to Detective John Sheppard in this reality. There were eerie similarities, and eerie differences. From the little that McKay had told him this John Sheppard had had a worse life, with more tragedy. This version of himself had lost a whole crew in Afghanistan and had been booted from the Air Force. This version had never married. This version had been a down and out detective, but he had done the right thing in the end, even though it had cost him his life.
"John? You said you wanted to get some civvie clothes?"
McKay's voice broke into his dark musings. "Yeah. Just give me a sec." John glanced at the physicist. The man was looking round, a sadness on his face that spoke of a friendship lost before it had ever really begun. John stepped into the bedroom and opened the closet. He perused the narrow selection of rumpled shirts and pants and quickly chose a maroon shirt and jeans. He changed into them, feeling odd, as if he was ransacking a dead man's wardrobe, which he was, but the man was himself, well, a version of himself so it wasn't really stealing as much as borrowing.
All of this alternate reality stuff made was making his head spin.
He sat on the bed a moment, stuffing his black Atlantis BDUs into a duffel bag. He wondered about this alternate life of this alternate man. This same man had had the same doubts and guilt and grief but with a few significant differences that had changed the course of his life quite dramatically, in John's view. Curiosity had compelled him to learn more.
He stood and crossed to the dresser. He opened the third drawer and felt around, past rolled socks and underwear to a lock box. He retrieved it. It had a combination lock on it but John knew the code and he unlocked it. He opened it, setting it on top of the dresser. He was not surprised at the sparse contents there. He grunted, noting the omissions.
"John?"
"Yeah, coming!" He shut the box and restored it. Then he thought better of it and put it into the duffel bag. He slung the bag over his shoulder and returned to find McKay at the door. "Sorry. It's just weird…seeing all of this. I feel like I've been here, like I live here but I don't."
"It's bound to be strange, seeing another version of your life. Let's get that drink now."
"What's this?" John had stopped by the DVDs and he touched a group of three. "The sequels? There weren't any sequels to the Star Wars trilogy. There were the prequels."
"What? There were no prequels to the Star Wars trilogy," McKay countered. "Lucas made the sequels. Didn't that happen in your reality? Those movies about Luke and Leia and Han and their kids and the rise of the New Republic and the Jedi Revolt?"
"Huh?" John met his gaze, baffled. He shook his head. "No. All we got were the prequels about the rise of Anakin Skywalker and the Sith and…whoa, you get Star Wars?" This was even more shocking than the discovery of a new set of films.
"Of course. Who doesn't? To be honest I do prefer Star Trek, however."
"Ah. Some things never change." John smiled briefly. He took the films, sliding them into his duffel bag. "I can't wait to see these. Let's go get that drink."
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John sat in a bar, nursing his third beer, or maybe his fourth. He couldn't quite recall as he was brooding, brooding. He felt drained, exhausted after sealing the rip in the universe, not to mention uncomfortable after seeing a version of his life that he could never have imagined.
Vegas was pretty much the same in all realities, John mused, as he crunched on pretzels and drank his beer. The casinos were loud. The lights were blinding. The crowds were excited and noisy. After the relative quiet and order of Atlantis this wild cacophony was jarring to his senses. He kept shifting on the stool, uncomfortable, as if at some deeper level he missed the city, missed the connection he had to it as much he wanted to deny it.
John wasn't much of a gambling man, apparently unlike his counterpart. He had taken the money McKay had given him and played a few rounds of cards. He had played a few quarters in the slot machines and had actually won a couple hundred dollars. The drinks were mostly free so he had pocketed the money, contemplating how to use it as it was virtually meaningless in Atlantis. He had noticed women giving him the eye, giving him open invitations and he suddenly recalled that Vegas was called Sin City for several reasons. And it was all legal.
"Done." McKay joined him, sliding his phone into his pocket. "Sorry about that. I've been going over the equations and we can get you home at nine in the morning."
"That precise?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, and we will have your ship fully repaired. Enjoy your night on the town, John, you've earned it." McKay patted the other man's shoulder. "But by all means get back to the facility before nine or I can't guarantee when the next window will be open between our two realities. You might be stranded here."
"Ah. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing," John mused, stroking his scruffy chin.
"I don't believe that. Surely Atlantis needs a Sheppard. Everyone back there is probably worried about you and I am certain they rely on you."
"Yeah, sure, when I'm not getting them killed. Maybe I should do them all a favor and stay here before I get everyone killed. Better yet maybe I should kill them all and be done with it before those damn aliens do worse."
"Nonsense, John! They need you. I…" The phone rang with an annoying jingle that John couldn't quite place. McKay shrugged, producing the phone and holding it to his ear. "Excuse me? Yes? What? Again? Fine!" McKay sighed. "Sorry, I've got to go. Another crisis with the Earth's magnetic field. Remember what I said. Nine in the morning."
"Got it."
"Catch a cab and direct them to Pegasus Tours. That will get you to the facility. Oh, and John, lay low. It's extremely unlikely that anyone around here would have known John Sheppard, but just in case you need to—"
"Lay low, go it. Go on, McKay. I'll be fine. I don't want much company tonight anyway."
"If you're sure?"
"Yeah. You go save the world for a change."
"I have, in fact. Several times. Get to the facility before nine."
"Go, would ya?" John snapped. "I don't need a damn babysitter," he muttered.
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John nursed his Scotch. He had switched to Scotch from beer, deciding the upgrade was one way to use the money he had won. He was eying the scantily-clad women who were gathering like vultures near him, considering another way to use the funds. He wanted to drown his dour mood in drink and sex, exactly in that order.
He didn't care about the consequences.
"Where's my money?"
John turned at the voice. A large man was glowering at him. Tattoos lined his bulging arms. John inwardly swore, blaming McKay's oversight. "What money?"
"Ha ha. You owe me ten grand, Sheppard, remember that? Or do I hafta rough you up again like I did last time?"
"I'm not the guy you're lookin' for. Geez, this guy was a real loser, wasn't he?"
A fist swung. "I ain't no loser!" the man bellowed. His fist connected and John suddenly found himself sprawled on the floor. The bottle of Scotch was broken and spilling next to him. That pissed him off more than the unexpected punch had.
"I didn't mean you, asshole! You owe another bottle of oh crap!"
John was hauled to his feet and hit again, but he spun and lashed out, landing his own fist on the man's jaw. Again and again John was pounding the guy, unleashing a sudden fury that he had been trying to bury. The two men were pulled apart. John kept swinging, the drink dulling his reactions until he was thrown out of the bar and onto the street. His duffel bag landed next to him with a solid thud.
"John? John…oh my God…it is you! John Sheppard!"
John inwardly cursed. So much for McKay's assurances, he grumbled to himself as he looked up, hearing the shocked female voice. A lovely auburn-haired woman was approaching, staring at him. She had on a turquoise scrubs. Her pretty face was full of shock and recognition. John didn't know what to say so he stared back at her as he moved to stand, having no idea who she was. He felt blood trickling along his mouth and he wiped it away.
"John?" She reached him. "Oh John, it is you! You are alive!" She hugged him.
John awkwardly returned the hug. "Um, obviously. What was your first clue? Look, I…"
She laughed, stepping back as she freed him. "John! The papers reported your death in the desert, preventing some kind of terrorist activity out there!" Her green eyes widened at the memory. "Some kind of detective sting, was it? John?"
"Um, yeah. Sorry. Things are still a little fuzzy..."
"You're injured? Another gambling debt?" she sighed. Her gaze roved over his body, back to his face. "I'm Molly. You remember me right? Are you okay, John?"
"Yeah, I…Molly…I…" John hesitated. He licked his lips. He could still taste the Scotch dancing on his tongue, in his mouth. He could see the prostitutes watching, disappointment on their painted faces. He debated for a moment, only for a moment. He smiled. "Of course I remember you, Molly…I got a lot on my mind, being dead and all, but I do remember you."
Molly smiled. Joy lit her face, joy and love and she touched his arm. "John. Why don't we go back to my place and finally have that drink, okay? I can take care of your lip if you want." Her joy was tempered by sudden worry lest he refuse her, as he had many, many times.
It was so easy, stepping into the shoes of another John Sheppard. It was child's play, really. What did it matter? John was a free agent. He had no ties to bind him, no lover to betray. He would be gone in the morning and could at least give this woman something that apparently that other John Sheppard never had. Nevertheless John felt a pang of guilt at the deception, taking advantage of her grief to assuage his own, not to mention enjoying some quick, meaningless sex. His qualms were doused, however, as his gaze roved along her body.
"Sure, Molly," he agreed with a smile. "Why don't we do just that? But let's get dinner first."
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"All over."
McKay sighed. "I figured that. Tell me."
Zelenka pointed at the screen where a blip was traveling. "The Strip, a grocery store then the Bellagio. Then a restaurant. Now he's at the Stratosphere and he is still with some woman."
"Some things never change," McKay remarked with a smile.
"Should we reel him in?"
"No. Let him have a vacation, however small. I gather that something terrible has happened in his reality and he blames himself, although he won't tell me the details. For saving us he deserves a little R&R. I told him about the nine o'clock deadline. Reel him in if he hasn't moved by eight thirty tomorrow morning."
"All right. What if he doesn't want to go back? You know how our version was."
McKay shook his head. "He's not like our John Sheppard. His sense of duty will compel him to return, no matter how guilty he feels. He'll return to his reality, I'm sure of it."
Nevertheless McKay was glad he had placed a tracking device in John's duffel bag.