A/N: Final chapter, boys and girls. Many thanks again to ladygris for being a beauteous Beta babe. It was her encouragement that convinced me to write something so emotionally heart wrenching. If I didn't have her for a friend, my life would be so much less full.
Warning: Tissue/Mascara alert!
Merci, Gracias and Namaste,
~Sandy
Broken Mirror
Chapter Fourteen
Leaning up against the side of the building, hands in the pockets of his faded jeans and wearing that devilish grin stood the man Kiana loved. "John."
"How've been?"
"Not great, but not completely terrible. You?"
"Same." John pushed off the wall, his hands coming out of his pockets as he got closer, stopping just at the edge of her comfort zone. "I've been thinking. About us."
"Was there ever really an 'us', John?" That took some of the wind out of his sails.
"That's what I wanna talk about." He glanced around at the people coming and going. "Could we go somewhere a little more private?"
Not quite ready to give in, Kiana shook her head. "I have plans tonight. Just say what you've come to say."
There was a long pause filled only with the sounds of the city winding down for the night. Then he shifted his feet. A signal that he was uncomfortable with expressing his thoughts. "An apology is long overdue."
Again he paused and it seemed as if he were waiting for her to speak, as if she were the one who should be making amends. "Go on."
"I've been an ass."
"I agree."
"It's a start." One side of his mouth quirked upward just a little. "A lot of things have happened since we saw each other last."
Kiana set her laptop case and purse on the hood of her car and waited. He'd get to the point eventually.
"I, uh, I let the resentment and bitterness toward my father color what we had."
"And…?"
"It's interfered with my ability to create stable relationships. Not just with women, but with friends and family. Or so Doc Adams tells me."
Kiana's eyes wanted to widen in surprise. This was an enormous breakthrough for him. "John…"
He held up his hand. "Let me finish. You have nothing to be sorry for. I, however, acted like a jerk."
"I…"
His head down, he interrupted her again. "And if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I'd like to start over. Well, except for the being blind part."
"John!"
"What?"
She touched him on the hand forcing him to look at her. When he did, his hazel eyes were filled with emotions she'd never thought to see. Hope. Fear. And was that…love? "Shut up and kiss me."
John didn't need to be told a second time. He swept her close and kissed her with a hunger that she felt as well. But what neither of them had noticed is they'd gathered a small audience. The applause separated them. "Can we get out of here now?"
"Yeah. Follow me."
"Where we goin'?"
The smirk she'd learned from him twisted her lips. "My place."
~~O~~
Patrick opened his office door, his eyes on the sheaf of papers in one hand. As always he snarled the order. "Clara, tell David I want to see him."
"Excuse me?"
Looking up he saw a stranger sitting at his assistant's desk. The woman was five-nine, slim, dark-haired with a few white strands. Nothing at all like Clara's matronly figure and snow white hair. He guessed her age at early fifties. "Where's Clara?"
"Gone." She stood and extended her hand. "Sheila Hastings. Your new assistant."
"Where did she go and when will she be back?"
Sheila jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "She took the last train to Clarksville." At his blank stare she explained. "Her last day was Friday. Clara retired and moved to Florida."
"Why didn't she say something?" Patrick waved a hand. "Never mind. Just get my son in here." Sheila crossed her arms and assumed an air of extreme patience. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"I told you to…"
"Oh, I know what you told me. I'm not a dog and don't respond well to barked orders. What's the magic word?" Patrick was so shocked that he just stood there and gaped at her for a full twenty seconds. Sheila huffed at him, her tone one used to speak to a child. "Please. The magic word is please."
"Please?"
"Good boy!" A brilliant smile lit up her face taking years off her age. "I would be happy to get David for you, Mr. Sheppard." She returned to the desk as Patrick went into his office wondering what had just happened.
A few minutes later, David entered without knocking, carrying an iPad in one hand. "Who's the bulldog, Dad?"
"Sheila, Sherry, Shania. I forgot. Took Clara's place. Did you know she retired?" Unbuttoning his jacket, Patrick seated himself on the sofa facing two matching chairs with a low table between them and shelves built into the walls behind filled with books, potted plants and tchotchkes.
David chuckled. "Yes. We had a party for her while you were out of town." He took a seat in one of the chairs leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. Powering up the computer, he scanned through the files until he came to the one he wanted. "I spoke to Larson and his team and forwarded the file to you, but we need to go over…"
"That's not why I called you here."
His youngest son glanced up sharply, a frown replacing his usual intense stare. He closed the iPad and set it aside. "Okay."
"We need to talk about a few things."
"Like?"
"Like my most recent trip. I didn't go to Geneva."
The unreadable expression was back. "Go on."
Instead of answering, Patrick handed him the pages he still held. "Read this. It explains everything." He waited while David quickly scanned the pages.
"Dad, this says…"
"Yes. Now you know why it's been so important that we complete this merger. If word gets out about my illness, Sheppard Industries will take a nose-dive in the market. Thousands of people will be out of work. And not just from SI. El Povenir is what keeps Villa Estrella profitable. It's the largest employer in the area."
"Maybe you'd care to explain why you've been so adamant about helping them. Aside from…" he fluttered the papers still clutched in one hand.
"It something your mother was passionate about, the restoration of the forests and helping those who, through no fault of their own, are down and out. If you check with the CFO you'll find that 'we' have been funding several programs that assist the homeless with getting back on their feet. HomeLife and its sister programs are something she dreamed of starting before she became ill. This past year I've been working with Steve and Winfred Rutledge to get them off the ground. All the profits are poured back into the businesses. SI makes nothing from it."
"And the diagnosis. Is Henry certain?"
Pushing to his feet, Patrick went to the window that looked out over the downtown area of the city chuckling mirthlessly. "I made him do the tests four times. He's certain."
~~O~~
Rather than belabor his father's health, David changed the subject. "You said there were a few things you wanted to discuss."
Without turning, his father nodded. "I've set up trust funds for the kids which they will be able to access once they've completed college and either joined the company or have taken positions elsewhere as contributing members of society."
"There's more." David made it a statement.
Again Patrick nodded finally facing him again. "Your brother. There's so much I need to say to him, but he doesn't make it easy."
"To be fair, you haven't exactly been approachable yourself since Mother passed away."
"I know." Though it was still early, Patrick went to the bar and poured a small amount of scotch into a glass, swallowing a large mouthful. "I'm sorry for that. And if I had more time that is just one of the things I'd change. Let's get started."
"Of course." David powered up the computer again closing the merger files and opening a new one.
~~O~~
Kiana's home was exactly what John would have expected if he'd bothered to picture it. All while they'd been together he was so caught up in trying to create an image of her in his mind that he hadn't thought about other aspects of her life. Watching her move about the room putting away her purse and computer he wondered how he could have been so wrong about her in every way.
Her home was modest. Three bedrooms, one of which had been turned into a home office and the third into a storage/workout room, the treadmill showing evidence of recent use. One and a half bathrooms, a small dining area and a moderately sized kitchen. In the living room, the fireplace was inset into the internal wall with comfortable furniture in natural colors grouped in front of it. An entertainment center blended in well with the décor and was barely noticeable until the doors were opened. The walls had been painted warm rust, a color that reminded him of Atlantis. It wasn't overpowering and rather calming. Paintings and photographs of what he assumed were her family and friends hung on the walls and perched on the mantel among knick-knacks that seemed to have sentimental rather than monetary value.
She had dark hair, longer now than when they'd first met. It was black and straight. Parted on the side, bangs swept across her forehead from right to left, a small lock falling away from the rest of the strands to touch the side of her nose.
Her eyes were very striking. They slanted upward slightly at the corners showing off her Asian ancestry though the color betrayed that she was also part Anglo. They were the color of the smoke from a forest fire. A gray that in just the time they'd been together today had changed from an ash gray to deep charcoal and every shade in between with the variations in her emotions.
Her figure wasn't slim for her height though he could tell she'd lost weight recently by the slightly baggy fit of her clothes. In bare feet, she came up to his collar bone, but in heels, the top of her head touched his chin.
He followed her into the kitchen as she fixed them each a cold drink. Seating himself at the island counter, he smiled when she set a tall glass of lemonade in front of him. Taking a sip, he waited to see if she would be the first to speak aside from the welcome he'd received when they first arrived. Guess not. He decided to just take the plunge. "There was an explosion on the base. People were killed, a good friend was severely injured. She survived because of Carson and his medical team. He was the head doc at our base.
"We discovered that a second bomb was about to go off and he was in the blast area. I went to pull him out, but didn't get there in time. The explosion killed Carson, the bomb disposal tech, and injured five others, including me."
Pausing, John took another sip of his drink, his eyes on the table in front of him. He glanced up briefly, but Kiana's expression was giving nothing away.
"I was…am responsible for a good man and supremely skilled doctor being dead."
"Why?" It was a simple question, but not so simple to answer.
"I'm the military commander of the base. It's my responsibility to protect everyone, including our commander. And because I wasn't fast enough, Carson and the others are dead."
"No. I meant why is that your fault? Carson chose to do what he did and from what you're not saying, I doubt you could have stopped him. Blaming yourself serves no purpose and I doubt that's what he would have wanted."
"Ronon said the same thing." John stood abruptly, going to stand gazing out the door into the back yard. A large tree stood off center casting cool shadows over a swing, table and chairs. Away from the house, a built-in barbeque squatted. In the far corner, a small stone fountain babbled down into a koi pond. He glanced over his shoulder then back to the view, his arms hanging at his sides.
"He's right. It's not your fault that Carson died, John."
Anger swelled and without turning, his hands clenched into fists. "I should have been able to stop it. Stop him. It's my fault. Mine and no one else's!" Stinging at the back of his eyes signaled the approach of tears. Desperate to get away before he broke down in front of her, John twisted the doorknob with more force than necessary managing to escape before his weakness was showcased to the woman he loved.
Once in the sun, he was able to get himself under control. Taking a deep breath, he threw himself down beside the tree, his back against its rough bark. Yanking a handful of grass, he tossed the strands one at a time. The breeze blew them away, but he didn't care. His emotions still threatened to get out of control and no amount of meditation would calm them. Only time could do that.
~~O~~
From the back door, Kiana watched John sitting under the tree. He needed her. Not as a therapist, but as the woman who loved and supported him. The woman who would hold him close when he was feeling vulnerable and sad. Just like now. And though it was difficult, she set aside Dr. Saito, the professional and brought out Kiana, the woman who loved him with all her heart. She had tried, but had not been able to convince herself to get over him and move on. Something she often advised her patients to do.
He was sitting with his legs bent, hands clasped together and arms resting on his knees, his head down so his face wasn't visible. She walked over and knelt next to him. Tentatively, she touched him on the hand. His arm twitched at the contact and as if her touch had been the trigger, he drew in a shuddering breath and was suddenly in her arms sobbing. No words were spoken between them. She just held him as he cried out his grief. When his tears finally tapered off and stopped, she loosened her embrace and he leaned back keeping his face averted as he wiped away the wetness with the tail of his shirt. "I'm…"
"Don't you dare say you're sorry." Getting to her feet, she extended her hand and after a moment's hesitation, he took it. They walked back to the house hand in hand. Inside, she led him down the hall to her bedroom, kicked off her shoes then urged him to sit on the side of the bed. She untied the laces of his sneakers and pulled them off. Without being told, he lay down waiting for her to join him and when she did, he rolled onto his side pulling her close. Emotionally drained, he was asleep within minutes.
~~O~~
John awoke to darkness. Night had fallen while he slept and now shadows flitted across the ceiling.
Embarrassment swept through him at the memory of his emotional breakdown after talking about Carson and his part in the man's death. And Kiana had stayed, held him while he'd grieved for all the people he'd cared about and had lost over his lifespan. And the fact that she hadn't turned away in disgust made him love her even more, though he wasn't sure how that was possible.
Easing away so he wouldn't wake her, John went into the bathroom, emerging a short time later to quietly make his way out to the kitchen. He'd just finished off what was left of his lukewarm lemonade when Kiana's arms slipped around his waist from behind. She loosened her grip just enough for him to turn within the circle then tightened them again.
One arm around her waist, the other holding her against his chest, he kissed the top of her head. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
"Hungry?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Starving. Pizza? Chinese? Fast food?"
She brought her arms up between them to rest on his chest, her head tilted back so he could see her eyes and loving smile. "Anything. You pick."
~~O~~
John's arm around her shoulders and the remains of dinner scattered on the coffee table in front of them, Kiana sighed in contentment. When they'd been like this before, there had always been a slight bit of resistance as if he were holding something back. Now it was different. He was totally relaxed showing her he was committed to their relationship though neither of them had said the words yet. She wanted to tell him she loved him, but it was important that he be the first to say it. Important for his emotional healing. So she waited.
The movie they were watching ended. She shut it off and was startled when he suddenly scooped her onto his lap then got to his feet. Her arms went around his neck holding tight at the heady sensation of being carried. "John! What are you doing?"
He headed down the hall toward her bedroom. "I know it's been a while, but I'm pretty sure this is how making love starts."
Grinning against the side of his neck, she tightened her hold briefly. "This does seem vaguely familiar."
Using his foot to push the door open, he carried her over and laid her gently on the bed, following her down. They kissed, the sweetness blossoming into a passion Kiana had never felt before. It wasn't long before their clothes were scattered over the floor and they were engaged in a dance as old as time itself.
And when the end came for both of them, she cuddled against his side, his hand idling brushing up and down her ribs. She closed her eyes and just before sleep claimed them both, she heard John softly mutter the words she longed to hear.
"I love you."
Atlantis
A Few Months Later
Time. Yes, it can be an illusion sometimes. Now however, it was not. It was the bane of John's existence as he counted down the weeks and days until he would see Kiana again. He still hadn't been able to convince Carter, Woolsey, Landry and the IOA to allow him to tell her about the Stargate program and his part in it. If they didn't make a decision soon he'd just do it and the rest of them be damned.
~~O~~
Having just finished a workout, John walked beside Ronon on the way back to their quarters.
"I watched it last night. There was hardly any fighting." He sounded annoyed and John didn't blame him.
"That's 'cause it's not about fighting."
The big man snorted. "Then why's it called 'Blades of Glory'?"
"'Cause it's about skate blades."
"And this is a real sport? Men and women dancing around on ice?"
John shrugged, his mind already composing his next email to Kiana. "Unfortunately."
Again Ronon snorted. "Your planet's weird."
"Mmm. You can say that again." They reached his quarters and John swiped his hand over the biosensor to open the door just as Carter walked up to them.
"Colonel." Both men turned to face her and John didn't like the troubled expression on his CO's face. "I was just coming to see you. Do you have a minute?"
"Yeah. Sure."
Carter glanced nervously at Ronon, unsure if she should be talking to John in front of him, but then continued. "I received a message from Stargate Command. I'm afraid I have some bad news."
"Okay." John prepared himself for yet another rejection of his application to have Kiana brought in as the staff shrink, totally unsuspecting of what Carter had to say.
"Your father suffered a heart attack last night. I'm sorry, John, but he passed away."
All he could do was stare at her, shocked.
~~O~~
John stood in front of the Stargate holding his duffle bag as the 'gate began to dial. Feeling more alone than ever and anxious to be with Kiana and his family, he was surprised when Ronon came to stand beside him also holding a bag. John looked up at him. "Where are you goin'?"
Without looking at him, Ronon said, "With you."
The 'gate ka-whooshed and Ronon headed towards it without another word. John frowned though he was heartened at the gesture of friendship displayed by the Satedan as he followed him through the event horizon.
~~O~~
His room was dark though it was still day. Outside a storm was raging. Not as bad as the one that had caused the evacuation of the city the first year the expedition had been in Pegasus, but bad enough for the Athosians to be brought from the mainland.
John didn't care though. The weather suited his mood. He'd tried to talk to his father when he'd gone home for Christmas, but it hadn't worked out. They hadn't fought, not like in the past. Just a few differences of opinion. With all the holiday activities that had been planned there just hadn't been a good time for them to really sit down and converse in the way they really needed to. And now his father was gone.
At least he and Dave had talked things out and he had a better understanding of some of his father's thought processes.
The reading of the will was the hardest part. John had expected to receive only a token inheritance and was shocked to find out that his father had bequeathed him thirty percent of his estate with a thirty percent interest in the company. Nancy had been there as well. They'd had just a short time to talk before she was called back to DC on some Homeland Security emergency.
John had completely forgotten the letter he'd received from his dad just before their battle with the crystalline entity. He held in his hands now. Why he didn't just read it and get it over with he didn't know. Maybe because they were the final words of the man who'd given him life and he was ashamed that he hadn't read them before now. Or was it because reading them would essentially bring full circle the relationship he had with his father? Whatever it was, John had to deal with it if he wanted to be the man that Kiana needed him to be. The man that Felicia thought he was. With the help of his family and friends, and Kiana, he was certain he'd make it one day.
Reaching out with his mind, he brought the lights up so he could see the words, his eyes falling on the painting propped against the dresser.
The SC in the lower right corner told him the artist's name was Shannon Coyle, a popular contemporary artist from Australia. She'd painted him wearing all black, a T-shirt in place of his uniform shirt, facing to the left with his head turned to look out at anyone looking in. Standing back-to-back with him was the unmistakable silhouette of Johnny Cash at the same age holding his guitar behind his back. It appeared as if each was a reflection of the other. It had been painted in black and white with one spot of color to draw the attention to the words written there.
I Walk the Line
According to Dave, his father had commissioned it just the year before. Probably about the time his doctor had first given him the diagnosis of his illness. With a deep sigh, he began to read.
~~O~~
John,
Or perhaps I should call you 'son'? I'm not sure which one anymore because I've finally realized how bad a father I've been to you and for that I am incredibly sorry. We've spent so many years not speaking that when the time came for it we couldn't so I hope you'll forgive me for not giving you this news in person. I should have told you before you left, but I didn't know how. When I took all those business trips while you were here, I wasn't taking care of merger talks.
John, there's no easy way to say this, but I'm dying. The diagnosis doesn't matter at this point, just that I will be gone from this Earth much sooner than I ever expected. Mourn me if you can, but don't spend your life with the grief wrapped around you like a cloak. It only keeps others from getting close and that's not what life is about.
Now let me explain about the snow globe and why it was so important. Your mother loved snow globes and I bought that particular one for her the day you were born. It was a reminder of the days we'd spent on vacation in Florence where you were conceived. And don't roll your eyes. Your old man is quite sentimental in his own way.
Unlike the Chairman of the Board, I have more than a few regrets and one is the way I've treated you since your mother died. Though my actions are unforgivable, I hope you can let it go for the sake of your own peace of mind.
An even bigger regret is the quarrel we had that kept us estranged for so many years. I will always feel great sorrow for the cruel and punishing things I said. My heartlessness and disregard for your feelings, wants and needs haunts me daily.
When the announcement was made that you and Nancy were divorcing, I couldn't believe it as I'd thought the two of you were quite happy. She did her best to convince me that it was all her fault, but of course I knew better. I blamed you and you alone.
My son, the screw-up.
My son, emotionally distant and never there when his wife and family needed him.
My son, who had no idea what was best for him.
And all that time I should have been boasting, telling anyone who would listen about my son.
My son, the defender of freedom.
My son, the protector of this great country and its citizens.
My son…the hero…
My son...whom I love more than life itself...
La Fin