Chapter Seven

Alternative Reality II.

He shivers. Evening again. And a pink and orange sunset streaks through the clouds, reflecting blood red diamonds in a calm sea.

He sets the alarm code and locks the cabin door. Something stirs in the shadows by the garbage cans. He hopes it's not vermin. Probably just some litter snagged up and flapping in the evening breeze. He'll see to it in the morning.

He pockets the keys in his shorts and takes a firmer hold of the bottle he'd tucked under an arm while he secured the premises. And it's odd. Because it's the second night running he doesn't feel the need for a drink.

But he walks across the sand, out to the shoreline, all the same, kicking off his beach shoes, shoving them into another deep pocket, not minding the cold water of the shallows against his feet as he takes a stroll.

A calm sea. The forecast had been for inconsistent and minimal surf and they hadn't been far wrong. Not a good day for business. He'd already let Freddie, a student working his way through college, and Thor (who the hell calls their kids, Thor?), his permanent assistant, home early. Freddie was glad to get away. He reminds John a lot of Rodney. Always with his ailments. Which is weird for a surf enthusiast. He'd said the smell of paint upsets his sinuses. And the sign painters had only just moved out. But John was keen to be rid of the name of previous owner… Shark's Bite. He chose Pegasus instead. Cheaper than Puddle Jumper. And Thor was impressed. 'Winged Horse… yeah… that's good.' It certainly didn't sound as dangerous as Shark's Bite… if only they knew…

And he allows himself a smile. David had said he'd make Dad turn over in his grave if he opened a surf shack. And here he is… and here he is thinking about profitability and dollars in the till…

It's not that the money is important… though he hasn't enough to squander… five years back pay accumulating in a bank account and a disability pension will only go so far… and he knows that he could only afford a small franchise on one of the lesser beaches… he's never going to make a fortune… but he's his own boss and gets to surf whenever he wants… and when you can't fly anymore… surfing is the next best thing… he's free out there… on the waves… and nothing else matters… to chose the moment… to enjoy the thrill… to drive your body to its limits… to concentrate… mind on nothing else… to make the moment perfect… a world slipping away at speed beneath your feet… clear and white… a constant white noise… the surf filling your mind and body… he can nearly forget... and... the water heals…

Perhaps he just needed something completely different to take his mind off… what's past… an analyst would probably be pleased with him…

Still, one drink wouldn't hurt… and he unscrews the bottle and takes a swig.

Not exactly good manners he knows. But it's virtually dark now, with lights twinkling from the expensive homes further along the cliffs, and he has the beach to himself.

Ah well… another drink…

The smell of a barbie drifts in the air and he feels hungry. He'll grab something on the way home… God, and tomorrow night, he'd promised to go round the neighbours… How did he ever manage say yes to that?... Unavoidable… A Mrs. Deirdre Spencer. And her daughter, Jane, a primary school teacher who's divorced and available. When he first moved into his home, Mrs. Spencer was soon round with the home-baked cakes and the invitations… And there came a point when he couldn't refuse any longer… He knows the woman is trying to pair him off with her only daughter… How can he say… How can he explain he's… screaming inside because he's lost everything he's ever known and really doesn't want the company?

He'd met Jane once on her own in the local grocery store… 'Look, don't mind Mom… she means well… Its embarrassingly obvious what she's trying to do, isn't it?… I'll try and keep her off your back… I'm not ready either, you know?… A messy divorce… not that… not that… I don't fan- … oh hell… this is embarrassing too!' And they'd laughed…

He takes another drink.

…And then Jane had glanced at the bottles in his trolley. 'You planning a party?' And it's his turn to feel embarrassed…

But… he does… does want the company… a part of him might still be screaming inside… but he knows that he misses human companionship… knew that when he first set out on his journey north… His first purchase. A Harley Davidson. Tourer. Ultra Classic Electra Glide. His... treat. Didn't let on to the salesmen that he actually couldn't feel much of the left-hand controls. Convinced him that he could. And that was what was important… Packed all he needed in the back. The freedom of the open road… Scenic routes… Solitude. He made it across the Canadian border… Thankful that the border control accepted his new papers without question… because hell he must have looked suspicious… he felt suspicious… he felt like a fraud… 'Hey… great bike you have there…' heart missing a beat… was the guy eying up the Harley or really checking something else out?… hell, John… you've faced Wraith? What was wrong with him? Nervous about one guard? For no reason… Had he changed?...

He visits Rodney's grave… except it isn't… his name on a stone only… Teyla's… Ronon's… They're some place else… an alien sea where the aschatee calls… it's the sea… it's the sea where they are now…

He thought he might buy a place in the Rockies... Montana, miles from anywhere, anyone, everyone who couldn't possibly understand what he'd been through… Pegasus… Atlantis… Wraith… Replicators… the genii… Stargates… flying Puddle Jumpers… how could he ever have a normal conversation?... How long can you talk about the weather, politics or TV that he knows nothing about?... But after five years of living in everyone's lap, he missed human company, afterall… It's sort of double pronged… He hates to be with people… strangers... but he needs company because of the resulting loneliness of what has happened… a no-win situation…

So it was back to Plan A… and the lure of the sea… coz, yes… he missed that too… a helluva lot…

A final swig. And it's time…

Night... Rodney… Ronon… Teyla… wherever you are, huh?

And he throws the bottle high into the darkness…

"John Finley?"

"Wha…What?" He swerves round, spooked. And things spun a little with the sudden movement. He'd had too much to drink. How had he done that? And how had he let these three guys get so close without knowing? Yeah, there were three… dark shapes. Hoodies up. Faces concealed. And they're… big… bouncer types… all the feel of guys who work out… And he's... shaking… He shouldn't have drunk that much… There's a whole wide beach but they're close, one on either side pressing up close. They mean to frighten… to intimidate… and they were doing that ok…

"It is John Finley, isn't it? Owner of the… Pegasus?" The one who isn't close… voice smooth and silky and threatening…

And they're nice and polite. They're not exactly going to mug him. But his reply is only a whisper. "Yeah…" He should do better than this. He should be telling them to scram. He should be telling them to get the hell away from him. He should be ready to fight his way out of this…

"Business doing ok?"

"And it concerns you, because?" He finds his courage, and Christ, it wasn't at the bottom of a bottle, was it?

"Now, now, John…"

"I don't remember giving you permission to-"

"-Oh, I always use first names with my business associates."

"Who the hell are you?" And John pushes at the arm of the guy on the right who is just too damned close. So then the guy on the left, grabs and jerks his left arm and pulls it up tight behind John's back, nearly wrenching it out of its socket, nearly lifting John bodily off the ground…

"Hey!" is all John can yell, eyes watering with the pain… and this is his dud arm that he can only half feel…

The guy who does all the talking, the guy who looks on, that John calls Cheerleader, comes round to the front, facing John.

"Behave, John. Are you gonna behave? If you say, yes, he'll let you go… a little…"

John says… nothing… He's really not in the mood to make this easy for them. He struggles but all it does is to earn him a tighter grip from Iron Claws… and then, he has a sudden fear… Cheerleader is too smooth talking… and he remembers Lennox… Lennox warning him about Trust… But this is too public a place… but then… a deserted beach as night falls… no one's going to know… if anything happens to him… until a body is washed up on the tide…

A nod from Cheerleader and the guy on the right lopes off towards the shop… towards the small parking lot…

"Who are you?" He gasps out, repeating himself. Like they'd tell him. And he tries to watch the one who's walked off… What's he doing? So near the shop…

"Lets just say, we're your insurance brokers…"

"Got… got insurance…" and he's still worried about the shop, not thinking… damn… the penny drops… a protection ring… that's why the former owner was so ready to sell out at a cut down price… How could he have been so stupid?… Green… fresh on the planet, that's how…

"No one ever has enough insurance, John. Not in these times. Don't you watch the news? Read the papers? Seen the statistics lately? Crime is so prevalent… assault... larceny... mindless vandalism... and... arson... " And right on cue, there's a loud popping noise from the lot and flames suddenly light up the whole area…

"Fuck you! Fuck you!" His Harley. A fireball. And he's struggling again… and moaning as Iron Claws grabs his other arm and pins that up tight too.

"We'd better go now, John. Tomorrow, I'll send someone round with papers for you to sign and to lay out our terms. You really must protect yourself, you see… Good night, John. And you won't be so stupid as to go to the police, will you? Because… well... there's something in the small print that advises you to check out your health insurance too..." And Iron Claws pushes him down… and leaves with a parting kick, that curls John over, groaning, holding his side… the proverbial face in the sand… the weakling on the beach pushed around by the bullies… he should have fought this… what's wrong with him?... what's wrong?

A loud explosion as the fuel tank goes up. And though he's a good hundred or so metres away, he flinches with the heat.

He slowly and wearily picks himself up and makes for what's left of his bike, limping, holding his side tight… and holding an arm over his face to protect himself from the flames and intense brightness. It's too late to get the extinguisher from the shop… so he stands and watches with other onlookers who've now gathered round, listening to the echo of the sirens approaching along the Beach Road.

Five years dodging the bad guys in another Galaxy… and it's no different here… He really doesn't need this right now… he really doesn't…

-oAo-

AR. I.

"What are you going to do?" asks Radek in whispered tones, leaning across the mess hall table he is sharing with Rodney.

"I don't know… I don't know…" And this is the great Rodney McKay… the guy with all the answers… confiding in Radek… admitting he hadn't a clue…

Rodney looks down at his coffee, both hands firmly wrapped round the cup. His fingers taking in the heat because that helps a little with the shaking… a little…

"You have to tell them. You have to show it to them," urges Radek.

"You think?" And he looks up at Radek sharply. "I'm sorry…" and he waves a hand to the air. "Not your fault… Shouldn't take it out on you…" and returns to staring morosely at his drink.

God, but he does so hate Kavanagh right now…

And Rodney likes to think that Dr. Rodney McKay's actually a nice guy… ok… he rants and raves at his subordinates… but he never actually hates anyone… ok… so he fears the Wraith and wishes they wouldn't go around doing that vampire thing on all and sundry… but still it's not hatred… not the seething white rage of Ronon that cries out for revenge… nor the simmering bitterness of Teyla… and Rodney never hated Kavanagh either… low opinions aren't hatred… but he hates Kavanagh now… hates Kavanagh for making him watch that tape…

And now, Rodney has to consider, whether to show it to his two closest friends… and hadn't they been through enough already?...

He hates Kavanagh.

If Kavanagh had ever planned payback for all Atlantis had ever done to him, then this is undoubtedly, his finest hour. But Rodney's convinced that Kavanagh was in terror when he sent that tape. It was genuine. Not even Kavanagh could have put on such an act.

He hates Kavanagh.

Because now… now Rodney has to be more positive… He has to do those things that Ronon wants of him. He has to make that stand, on behalf of Sheppard. He has to live up to the name of Commander… because until now… he's been a sham… He knows that and he's nearly ashamed that he might have actually let Sheppard down… to have not done more at this point to defend the good name of Sheppard… to have not asked questions… to simply let things drift on… now... he knows he has to put things right… really, he shouldn't hate Kavanagh… really, he should like Kavanagh a lot… because Kavanagh has given him the ammunition… and the will…

"It's just… won't it?… don't you think?… you know…"

"Yes, Rodney?" Radek inclines his forehead slightly, encouraging Rodney to finish, to make sense… And Rodney stares at him, suddenly forgetting what it was he was going to say anyway… because here he is… asking for advice… from Radek… about… personal stuff… when… once it'd been Sheppard… once it'd been Teyla and Ronon… And he's asking himself why he didn't go to Jenny? Perhaps he thinks that Radek is a more likely candidate to talk him out of this…

"Won't it… it'll just make more of a mess of things… Ronon is likely… you know…" And he gestures with a hand. And he imagines Ronon, loading up knives… guns… more knives, like some sort of Rambo… 'What are you going to do?' He'd ask, and Ronon would growl back as he storms towards the Daedalus, 'what do you think I'm going to do?! Start what you should have started two weeks ago! Talking is over!'

"And Teyla…" Rodney shakes his head. Imagining Teyla. Who should be the voice of reason. Joining Ronon. 'And I too, Rodney… I too, am going to do this thing… even though I am with child… I will not back away from my duty!' Spitting out her words… stamping on what little is left of Rodney's manhood…

He looks around the mess hall, cautious and lowers his head to whisper back to Radek. "And... what if Kavanagh is right? What if it is… you know who?" Trust. "And it has to be true… Who else would have the know how or a motive to hack into Stargate computer system and no one any the wiser?"

"Know how? Other than us two? No one… Colonel Carter? Dr. Lee perhaps? Motive? None of us…" And Radek purses his lips. Because you couldn't imagine any of them being so… dishonest.

"And…" and Rodney looks round a second time and pulls his chair closer… "if its… them… how can I endanger Ronon and Teyla, especially Teyla, especially with the children, with this information… I may have already put you at risk, telling you this, you know."

"Oh." And Radek sits up straight, alarmed. Because he really hadn't thought of that. And he's looking round anxiously too.

"We can't trust anyone…"

"Trust… no…" echoes Radek and it feels like a pun in there somewhere…

"And what can we do? It'd be the four of us against… them."

"Four of us? Yes." And Radek is not relishing that notion and he looks like he's wishing Rodney would un-tell him that instant.

"Well, five…" because he guesses he can include Jenny… "Kavanagh…" and Rodney looks round a third time. Perhaps he shouldn't even be mentioning the scientist's name, as Kavanagh had suggested he was already on their hit list. "Our mutual friend…"

"Friend?"

"Ok, our mutual enemy… said that Caldwell was ok… He's been… one of them already so he's not about to let it happen again any time soon… He's our only hope… but how can I tell him without Teyla and Ronon ever finding out? Especially as they're going to plead a case for returning with him?"

"Well, Rodney, you've come round full circle… it is like I have said, you have to show Ronon and Teyla the video. Or least tell them of its contents."

So he wanders through the corridors of Atlantis, absently answering questions about the evacuation, aware of odd looks, because he's no longer yelling at everyone… trying to find mindless little tasks to put off the dreaded moment… in rooms miles from Teyla and Ronon… and then forgetting why he went there… trying to pick up the courage… wandering like a ghost… haunting… carrying a picture of another ghost… not on the USB flash drive that's hanging on a chain round his neck... though that's there too… but in his head… those images forever… Sheppard falling to the ground… jerking with each successive shot… an image that has joined that of Sheppard looking back through the Gate… for the last time…

-oAo-