Confined

Colonel (how much longer?) Sheppard could see the security guard taking up his position in the corridor just before the door to his quarters hissed shut, a low beep indicating that it was now also locked. Walking away from it, he took off his tac vest and dropped it on the floor. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, John began to undo his boots. When he had pulled off the first one he stopped, holding it in his hands. He felt the anger and frustration he had tried to suppress bubble to the surface again. Gawd, that new head of Atlantis was a pain in the neck! Probably couldn't handle to be proven wrong. The intel had checked out, they had rescued Ronon - and how had Woolsey repaid it? By informing him that he was confined to his quarters, where he would await an investigation into his disobeying a superior's direct order.

"Superior, my ass," John growled, and in a fit of fury he threw his boot against the wall. It bounced to the floor with a very satisfying thud. For the umpteenth time Sheppard wished back the days when Elisabeth and later Sam were at the helm in Atlantis. They had been in synch with the city and its inhabitants, weighing suggestions that were brought to them with an open mind and an open heart. They had trusted his judgement, and welcomed his suggestions. John had to admit that his solutions and theirs had clashed on several occasions, but they had always given him enough leeway to prove his point. Using unorthodox means in an alien and hostile environment was in their blood. Woolsey's blood, however - if it was blood at all and not ink that was coursing through those veins - ran thick and slow, encumbered by rules and regulations. He didn't even seem to make an effort to understand the people he was responsible for…

Flashback

"Why won't you realize that your actions jeopardized our position, Colonel?"

"Because they didn't. I didn't just come off the boat, you know. I have run operations in this galaxy for years. I know what the Wraith are capable of. Beckett checked Ronon through for any kind of Wraith implants, and McKay did the same for sub-space beacons. He's clean, I'm telling you."

"There are other ways of manipulating people that are not physical. This alien was at the Wraiths' mercy for over a week, he was obviously severely tortured. I can only presume that he has been compromised."

John stared at Woolsey, the total lack of emotion in the man's face making his blood boil.

"Do you ever read personnel files, Mr. Woolsey? Are you not aware of Ronon's history? The Wraith have destroyed everything he ever held dear, and because of them he's been through seven years of hell that more than prepared him for any kind of torture. He hates them with a passion. Do you really think he could be turned by them?"

"It is beside the point what I think. There is a viable possibility that this man is a danger to the city. I understand that he cannot be moved at the moment due to his physical condition, but I will have him transferred to the brig as soon as possible, and the moment he will have recovered enough I will have him removed from this planet. While you, Colonel, will suffer the consequences of your reckless actions."

End Flashback

So here he was. Woolsey had even confiscated his comm piece, effectively isolating him from the rest of the city, and his friends and team mates.

John decided to take a shower. He thought he could still smell the musty odor from those tunnels on himself. When he was done, he dressed in a black sweatsuit. While he was toweling his hair, the bell chimed, and after a polite pause the door opened. Teyla and Carson were standing outside, the latter carrying a tray with food and drink.

"May we come in?" Teyla asked formally.

"Of course," John replied, motioning to them to enter. "Glad to see you."

"I canna believe ye're cooped up in here like this, cut off from communication," Carson remarked, setting the tray on the table next to the settee. "Anyway, we figured we'd bring ye some dinner and brief ye on how the surgery went."

"I really appreciate that." John wasn't really hungry, but he didn't want to offend his friends, so he sat down and grabbed a sandwich.

"It was the right decision not tae mess with those pins onsite. The ends were barbed, and any attempt tae just pull them out would have caused serious damage tae the muscles and nerves. Still, Dr. Keller and I removed them successfully."

"Good to hear that. Where's Ronon now?" John asked.

"Still in the isolation room," Carson answered. "Dr. Keller has insisted that he stays there until it is certain there will be no post-op complications. In addition, the brain scans have shown a shadowy area that indicates a minor cerebral haemorrhage. It could explain Ronon's lethargic behaviour when we found him. It's not dangerous at the moment, and won't require treatment, but it still needs tae be monitored."

After the doctor's report, they tried to keep up a pretense of conversation, but it was forced, and interrupted by lengthy, uncomfortable silences. None of them wanted to touch the critical issue if John's decision to stage this rescue on his own would get him removed from Atlantis. Sheppard guessed that this was the reason why Rodney hadn't made an appearance yet. The scientist couldn't stand emotionally charged situations. Anyway, the men were glad when Teyla finally announced that she was tired and would call it a day.

When John crawled into bed himself about half an hour later, he used his thoughts to switch off the lights as usual. But he switched them back on immediately. He had just thought of something. Creeping towards the door to his quarters, he closed his eyes and concentrated, became one with the city that was tied to his genetic make-up. He could see the lock in the door in his mind, and he knew it would only require a thought to open it…

A smirk on his face, and feeling better than he had since leaving Woolsey's office, John returned to bed and shut down the lights.