Day 13

Ronon sat in the chair opposite Colonel Carter, thumping his leg. Lorne was pacing behind him and kept looking at his watch. McKay was late. After another five minutes of waiting, Ronon shifted restlessly in his seat and his knee began to bounce, making a soft thud thud thud against the metal floor as his heel thumped at each nervous rebound. Carter sighed and pushed the tablet she'd been trying to read away to looked at him.

"Should we give him another call on the radio?" she asked, sounding more amused than annoyed.

"I'll go find him."

Ronon stood up, eager to be doing something. It seemed like the last five days had simply vanished underneath him. There were teams to send out, teams to debrief, Marines to train. After they'd returned from Notitia life had kindof just – gone on.

Once he was rested up, McKay had taken a science team back to Notitia to learn what they could about the Ancient Outpost. He'd returned only two days ago. Team 6 continued to search down the list of addresses from the planet where Sheppard had gone missing.

Another team had been formed to search down the list of addresses taken from Notitia, and they had been having much more success. If you call constant conflict with Michael's bug monsters and hybrids "success". Ronon felt quite certain they would find Teyla with the leads from Notitia. It would just take some time. And that's what they had least of.

Ronon was almost to the door when McKay shoved past, looking wild and disheveled. The scientist raced over to plant his hands on Carter's desk, ranting before she could even open her mouth in surprise.

"I found it! It was in the sensor logs the whole time, but I didn't even consider the possibility because we've never seen a wormhole affected in quite this way. All other time warps have occurred in a loop with the traveler returning to the same destination they left, but there was nothing in the sensors that could have caused that particular effect, so I'd ruled it out as an avenue to pursue."

"McKay? Have you slept recently?"

Carter finally managed to shove her question into a slight pause of sound. Ronon stepped closer, untwisted McKay's jacket collar, and shoved his shirt tail into his belt.

"You look like crap," he added. McKay looked taken aback for a moment.

"Well not a lot of sleep, really. Actually, yes! I mean I was asleep when I figured it out. I had this weird dream where Sheppard was in the rowboat and -."

"Jees, McKay!" Lorne interrupted with exaggerated horror, but Ronon could see a grin at the corner of his mouth. "No one wants to hear your dream. Can you get to the point?"

"The point? I already told you the point. I found the solar flare that affected the wormhole from M4S-587 the day Sheppard went missing."

Sam stood up with a lurch, shoving her chair back against the wall behind her as Ronon and Lorne stepped close to peer at McKay in tense excitement.

"McKay are you saying -?"

"I know where Sheppard is."

Ronon almost cheered and was mentally out the door and to the Stargate when he realized something was wrong. McKay's answer had been hesitant. Ronon threw a puzzled look to Carter who was scrutinizing McKay with ferocious intensity.

"Solar flare?" she said, as if the phrase explained everything. "McKay, you're saying Sheppard got thrown to the past?"

Ronon was startled. "…what?" McKay ignored him.

"No, Sam, not the past. The future. I haven't finished the calculations yet, but I think that when Sheppard stepped into the wormhole on 587, he was sent to Atlantis in the future."

McKay looked nervously at Lorne and Ronon who were both glancing at the Stargate through the window as if they expected to see Sheppard pop home at any minute. The future didn't sound too bad to Ronon. Worst case, Sheppard had missed the fun on Notita. But they had managed without him, and picked up their best lead on Teyla in weeks.

"He's not going to show up, Ronon," McKay said softly and Ronon turned back. "He's in the future. Way…in the future."

Ronon didn't understand, but he felt the news like a lead fist to his gut. He held McKay's eyes, looking, needing something to give him hope. He saw only quiet despair.

"We won't see him again. Ever."

Day 64

Ronon was sitting by himself in the commissary, staring over a full plate of eggs and bacon. Lately he'd taken to sitting with Anderson and the other pilots at breakfast, enjoying their youth and enthusiasm. In fact, the noisy crowd was still gathered at a large jumble of tables across the room, but Ronon didn't feel like joining them. Not today.

A clank of silver and ceramic pulled him out of his stupor and he looked up. McKay reached the table and stood for a moment at the chair beside Ronon, then slowly walked around to set his plate in front of him instead. He sat down and settled his dishes without looking at Ronon at all. Ronon went back to staring at his food.

"You, ah - Did you hear?" McKay asked finally. Neither had taken a bite.

"Yeah. I heard."

"KIA," McKay breathed. He suddenly leaned forward, holding his fork and knife in clenched fists. "It's ridiculous. He's not dead. He's in the future. For all we know, Atlantis is populated by beautiful Amazon women in the future and Sheppard is living it up like Buck Rogers meets Sex and the City."

Ronon almost chuckled. That was a nice way to remember Sheppard. But he couldn't bring himself to feel that Sheppard wasn't dead. He knew why the Air Force had made the decision to declare Sheppard Killed in Action: So that the living could move on. To think of Sheppard as alive was a lie. Denial. He was gone, beyond reach. That was dead as far as he understood.

Ronon would grieve – grieve like he'd never grieved before for the loss of not one, but two dear friends within the same month – and then he would move on.

When he looked up again, McKay was staring at him, anger just barely restrained beneath the surface.

"He's not dead," he repeated again.

Ronon shrugged. "You going to the funeral on Earth?" he asked.

McKay frowned, looked at his food, shoved a large forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"Of course."

Day 71

It was spring in the Arlington National Cemetery. Cherry blossoms burst over the trees like scented fireworks and the morning sunshine beat down on their heads with sleepy warmth. It was quite beautiful, Rodney thought.

He stood next to Ronon at the graveside, a few feet away from a large silver coffin that hung balanced over torn earth. The edges of the flag that was draped over the coffin flapped in the spring breeze, snapping in little rhythms of sound that almost drowned out the drone of an Air Force clergy's eulogy on the other side of the grave.

The clergy spoke to a small family group. John's brother - Doug, or Dave or something - a woman friend he'd brought with him, and John's ex-wife, Nancy sat somberly in the reserved seats. Rodney had never met any of them and Ronon had only met them briefly during Patrick Sheppard's wake.

"Do they know it's empty?" Rodney asked softly enough so as not to interrupt the minister.

"I don't know, but I don't think so. Carter said they'd only been told that details were classified."

"It's weird. Knowing he's not in there, I mean."

"Yeah."

Rodney fidgeted. Despite Ronon's continued admonition to let it go and grieve for John as if he were dead, Rodney couldn't do it. John was alive. In the future. He just wouldn't get to see him again. Like many colleagues in Rodney's life that had gone on different paths. Like his cat.

"Lots of people, here," Ronon said, just as softly. Rodney looked around again. The family group was small, but there were many friends gathered behind them. Most were in uniform, friends and colleagues who had served with John during his 22 years in the Air Force.

In one case, it was the parents of a friend who stood to pay their respects. They'd introduced themselves to Rodney before the ceremony, and told them that their son, Lyle, had died as John tried to rescue him in Afghanistan. They were eager to tell anyone who would listen how grateful they were for his attempt, even though the act had brought a black mark down on his record.

"His brother looks pissed," Ronon added. Dave did indeed look a bit sour as he sat stiffly in the chair beside the coffin. His girlfriend kept shooting him annoyed looks.

"I heard he wanted John to be buried at some family cemetery. John's will requested Arlington. Landry shouted it out, though."

"I'm glad. He deserves this." Ronon was looking at the full military salute the Air Force had arranged. A medal of honor was carved into the headstone at the coffin's head.

"He's not here," Rodney hissed back testily.

They had to stop whispering as the clergy finished up and taps began to play its mournful tune, interrupted only by the violent explosions of the 21 gun salute. When the echoes died away, a single soldier approached the coffin and began folding the flag with crisp, formal pageantry.

"I'm leaving Atlantis," Ronon said. Rodney turned to stare at him. "When we get back."

"I…don't know what to say," Rodney whispered. Ronon suddenly smiled.

"You were right. I need to try to find a way to make a difference. Will you help me talk Carter into letting me build an offworld militia? There's a lot of scared people out there who want to fight Michael. You were right about that, too. Atlantis needs all the help it can get."

"I'll do what I can," Rodney promised.

The soldier handed the striped triangle to John's brother, who finally looked just a little bit sad as he accepted it.

Rodney felt his own eyes sting. He wasn't Sheppard who had been able find optimism in the mere fact of his own continued existence. Rodney needed an anchor to hang his hope upon, or the world got bleak and dreary, pretty quickly.

Sheppard wasn't dead. He wasn't here. But things were looking awfully bleak.

Day 180

"How many more of our own people have to die, Doctor? Colonel Sheppard, Colonel Carter, Ronon, Teyla – they were your friends."

"Sheppard's not dead!" Rodney spat at Woolsey, furious at the man's smug calm.

"Right. He's just been transported forty eight thousand years into the future. I guess that makes him one of the lucky ones."

Woolsey turned and walked away without another look back and Rodney found himself clenching his fists. Jennifer started to speak to him, but he whirled and stalked out of the infirmary. His feet carried him without direction until he realized he was standing in the jumper bay, looking into the open hatch towards the cockpit.

Sheppard had been gone 6 months and Rodney still felt a twinge every time he walked into a jumper. They were Sheppard's ships, as far as Rodney was concerned. John had been the first the fly them; Rodney himself had led then newly-in-charge Major Sheppard to the bay. John flew them the best. Somehow, they represented his friend better than any photo or gravestone ever could. They were compact, useful, even a little bit funny looking. But inside the little craft was some of the smartest equipment the Ancients had ever designed.

And they were built to explore.

He sat for a long time on the back bench, thinking. Ronon had asked him once if he would ever leave Atlantis. At the time, Rodney couldn't imagine it. But things had changed. He wasn't making a difference here anymore. Not the kind he wanted to make. Sheppard had taught him what that meant. Ronon had made him see it. But they weren't here.

He resigned the next day.

Day 9400

Rodney sat on the steps of Atlanis looking down at the quiet Stargate, feeling his age in every joint and wrinkle on his body. A pile of gear sat on the floor in front of the beautiful ring. He would go home soon.

The technicians he'd brought with him were ready. They complained about the boring assignment and how spooky the city was when it was night. Spooky and empty. The SGC didn't come back to Atlantis very often anymore, but that was for the better. The fewer people here to mess with his adaptations, the more likely they would survive. For 48,000 years.

Sheppard wasn't dead. And Rodney would be here to meet him when he arrived. Sort of.

He sighed and stretched. He was done. Finished. He would never know if he'd made a difference, but he'd found something to hang his hope upon. And it was enough.

Day 17,520,000

"This is Sheppard. Anyone on this frequency?"

"Sheppard? Is that really you?"

"McKay!"

"I can't believe it! It actually worked!"