John followed Rodney up the gangway and to the jet that would fly them over to Denver and tried to remember the last time he'd been on a plane… let alone as a passenger in one. Thinking back, he figured it had to have been that time he talked George Caraway into letting him fly his old crop duster after his son had left for college. Normally George would have paid someone else to dust the crops professionally, but after a promise from John to overhaul the engine, he'd finally agreed. And what a flight that had been! Riding the wind like back in the day. John had done some pretty impressive maneuvers in that plane, and George had never let him fly it again after. John was fine with that. Better not give the residents of Blue River anything more to gossip about.

John settled into first class with Rodney beside him and actually enjoyed the flight. Even as a passenger. Their helicopter ride from the Denver airport to Cheyenne, however... not so much.

John couldn't quite recall when it started. He had simply disembarked from the plane and down onto the actual runway. He caught sight of the helicopter that would be flying them over to the mountain and that was when his palms began to sweat. It was subtle at first, and barely noticeable.

The helicopter was an old, decommissioned Blackhawk that looked as though it had seen better days. It was the exact craft John had trained on during his early days with the Air Force. It also happened to be one he particularly enjoyed flying. So much so, he nearly asked their pilot if he could take the reins for a bit.

Everything seemed to intensify the moment John pulled himself up into the rear compartment of the bird and took the headset the pilot offered to him. The walls began to close in on him as soon as he started settling it down over his ears and the blades above their heads began to rotate. Memories John had assumed were long forgotten started crawling their way up out of the boxes he'd so carefully packed them away in.

Being in a space like this again was reminding him of the last helicopter ride he'd been on. And that had been nothing like his impromptu trip up in George Caraway's bi-plane.

"Everything ok?" Rodney asked him over the radio after the astrophysicist had climbed in and taken the seat beside him. Rodney looked ridiculous with the oversized headphones covering his ears and his thinning hair sticking up at odd angles beneath it.

John forced a smile and nodded, thankful when Rodney turned away and started discussing their flight path with the pilot.

But on the inside, John was starting to lose it.

The feeling was not all that dissimilar to the one that had overcome him in the hunting blind with Eddie the other day. His hands were even starting to shake now and John wiped his sweaty palms against his jeans.

He needed to get a grip. This was not how seasoned Air Force pilots were supposed to behave.

But John could not make the memories stop. The gurney… Carson… the blades whirling away above his head as they wheeled him down that pier and away from Atlantis forever. Thank god for his Aviators or McKay might have caught on to the fact that something was very, very wrong.

John gripped the edges of his seat and tried not to have a full-on panic attack when the pilot let them know it was time to go and to get ready for a bumpy ride. The helicopter lifted from the ground shortly thereafter and John did his best not to throw up all over the seat in front of him.

Seriously, what was the deal? This used to be his element; the sky the one place in all the world where he could go to just truly be free. It was his sanctuary and his respite. Yet now it seemed like his worst nightmare. Had the war really taken everything from him? And did the SGC really think they could just put Humpty Dumpty back together again?

Searching for anything that might provide a distraction, John peered out of the little window beside him and tried to make out the landscape below. He'd gotten glimpses of the ground when their flight took off and landed, but the helicopter was flying low and John could actually make out some of what was happening miles below them. John had stuck to rural areas for much of his life after the war, and it was strange to see the outlines of cities now. The population was recovering, but John could remember a time when they were dirty, dangerous places. People had flocked to them after the wars, New York especially. The Big Apple had actually been the new D.C. for a while there before they rebuilt and moved everything back. Or so John had heard. He'd made it a point after spending some time in one to never visit again.

When the bird hit a particularly rough patch of air, John wrapped a hand around the grab bar just above his head and held on for dear life. He was thrown sideways into the window. Not enough to wind him, but it was enough that he had to close his eyes again and start trying to calm his breathing. He could feel Rodney's eyes on him the entire time and knew the scientist was on to him. How could he not be? John was gulping down air like he'd just run a marathon and still clinging to the grab bar. He was also pretty sure he was visibly shaking now and hoped to god the vibrations inside the cockpit were enough to mask it.

John was determined to keep hiding behind his Aviators. Maybe if he refused to acknowledge it, it wasn't really a problem...

But those damn memories just would not stop coming. They were battering against him constantly now, taking chunks of his resolve with them on the retreat. Memories of Teyla and Ronon, their lifeless bodies on the floor of that Hive. The exact, Earth-shattering moment he realized what those IOA bastards had done to him. The desperation and fear when he realized there was nothing he could do to keep Atlantis from crashing into the Pacific ocean.

They were tearing him apart from the inside and all he could do was sit there and shake.

"We're almost there," Rodney said sometime later, his voice tinny and small over the comms.

"Got it," John replied through clenched teeth, no longer able to hide his struggle. And also no longer caring that Rodney saw.

A hand reached out to touch his arm, and this time, John didn't flinch away. The hand stayed there until their pilot informed them they were nearing the base and to prepare for landing. He managed to somehow hold it all together through their entire descent. But as soon as the landing gear hit the tarmac, John was tearing his headset off his head and climbing out the back of the helicopter like his life depended on it. And maybe it did.

He fled to the side of the mountain where he cowered beneath the shadow of the rocks. John knew he was being ridiculous, but there was no denying that getting away from the rotating blades and the intense noise was helping. He pulled in lungfuls of clear, mountain air and willed his racing heart to slow. He distracted himself by watching their pilot help Rodney down out from the back of the craft. It took the aging scientist a lot longer than it had John and he was reminded again of just how much time had passed. They'd fallen so easily back into their old roles that John had nearly forgotten they were old men now. Tired, stiff, (and apparently terrified) old men.

Rodney made his way over to where John was standing, his limp painfully obvious.

"You ready?" the scientist asked.

John knew he wasn't, not by a long shot.

Rodney had brought them to a point of no return of sorts. John knew that once he walked through the heavy blast doors that protected the helipad entrance to the base, that would be it. John's destiny would once again be in the hands of other men. Men who would be willing to do just about anything to get Atlantis back to Pegasus. Even if that meant destroying John in the process. And Rodney was asking John to let them. Sheppard knew he would, if only because it was his oldest friend who was asking.

John pulled his Aviators off and forced himself to nod. Rodney looked relieved and started making his way over to the huge metal access door that would grant them access to the base. He swiped his badge, and a moment later, the heavy door was sliding open.

It admitted them into a long corridor dim with artificial light. It took John's eyes several seconds to adjust to the gloom. Once they did, he spied a security checkpoint set up at the other end of the corridor. Rodney marched them towards it and John followed along behind.

There were three men manning the checkpoint and all of them stiffened to attention as John and Rodney approached. One was behind a table laden with bins for personal items, another was seated behind an x-ray screen while the last man waited on the other side of a huge metal detector.

John had to force his feet to keep moving forward. There was a chance the men at the checkpoint were expecting them and already knew who he was. But there was also a chance they didn't. Whatever the case, it was about to become public knowledge that John Sheppard had come back from the dead and that he had just arrived at the SGC. There was no getting around it now. Rodney had officially pushed him past that point of no return.

"IDs, please," the first soldier stated in a bored voice. Rodney already had his out and passed it over first. It took John a few seconds to fish his out from the back pocket of his jeans.

"Welcome back to Cheyenne, Dr. McKay," the man said before handing Rodney back his ID. He turned to John next who reluctantly handed over his own.

The soldier, a man whose name tag identified him as Sergeant Harris, did a double-take as he read the name on the card. Despite his best efforts, the young man could not hide his shock. He handed the ID back to John with a trembling hand. He took it and sighed. So that was it then. He was watching any hope he'd had at anonymity in this place fly out the window. John's only hope was that the men and women in the mountain would look on him with deference for now on, rather than open hostility. John Sheppard's deeds were, after all, as infamous as his name.

Ignoring Harris who was openly staring at him now, John emptied his pockets and waited behind Rodney to be waived through the metal detector. After that was done, he snatched his wallet and keys back up and then waited again while Rodney retrieved his laptop bag from the conveyor belt. John could hear the checkpoint guards whispering behind their backs and John and Rodney walked away.

"Guess the cat's out of the bag now," Rodney muttered as he threw his laptop bag back over his shoulder.

"Looks that way," John replied glumly.

He followed Rodney towards the elevators as the scientist started in on a tirade about the merits of security checkpoints. John, however, had stopped listening. They were nearly to the bank of elevators that would take them down into the mountain now and John had suddenly realized something.

He knew this place. Everything up until then had been brand new. But this… this he remembered… The card reader affixed to the wall. The blue, red and green stripes on the floor that never seemed to go anywhere. John couldn't even remember the number of people he'd asked about those lines. No one, not even General O'Neill had been able to tell them what they were for. John found himself smiling down at those lines now, lost in all the happy memories of his time here. It was probably the first genuine smile he'd been able to pull out of himself since Rodney showed up at his door.

This was really happening.

A long time ago, the SGC had saved him from a life of obscurity in Antarctica. Now here he was, standing at the precipice of yet another great adventure. Some people went their entire lives without ever having one. John had been through thousands. Countless off-world missions against unseen foes. Trading missions with primitive civilizations. Endless dealings with alien races. John could fill entire tomes with the things he had experienced, all thanks to the SGC.

Or with the mistakes he had made... Like waking up the Wraith his first day on the job, or the people he had lost along the way.

John's face fell. Maybe they should have just left him in Antarctica. Maybe then the location of Earth might never have been received by the entire Wraith fleet. Maybe then the name John Sheppard wouldn't be synonymous with one of the worst tragedies in human history.

And just like that, John's excitement evaporated just as quickly as it had appeared. The elevator doors finally dinged and opened to receive them. John stepped inside with Rodney and watched as the scientist stuffed his badge into yet another card reader just above the bank of floor numbers. He used a thumb to punch at the unmarked white button near the bottom of the panel and then the elevator was moving.

"What about our bags?" John asked after a few moments of silence.

Rodney seemed lost in thought. "Someone will get them for us and put them in our rooms," he explained absently.

John wondered then if he maybe wasn't the only one having trouble with all this. Rodney had believed John was dead for 18 years, and their reunion hadn't exactly been a joyous one. Not like it could have been. And now John was about to become a Brigadier General, and leader of the expedition no less. Rodney had made it quite clear in the car ride to the airport that he was only interested in being left alone to continue his research, but John hadn't told Rodney the truth on a lot of things. Had the scientist pulled the same shenanigans? Because truth be told, Rodney McKay was really the person who deserved to be running things. He was the one who had stuck around and brought down the bad guys, not John. And now here John was, about to be paraded around the SGC like some golden boy. The events of the past should exclude him from all this immediately, not earn him a place at the top of the food chain. None of this seemed very fair.

The only thing that separated John from Rodney in that moment was his ability to fly entire alien cities through space. That was the only reason any of this was happening, and John needed to keep that in mind at all times while he was here. Just get through the next six months, or however long it took for them to get back to Pegasus, and then he could hand over the reins to someone more deserving.

John glanced over at his friend, contemplating if he should just talk to Rodney about some of this but realizing he lacked the courage. The elevator doors saved him a moment later when they opened up to reveal the familiar figure of Dr. Carson Beckett beaming at them from the hall.

"Well as I live and breathe. The rumors are true! The late, great Colonel John Sheppard has returned to us."

Carson was on him as soon as John exited the elevator, smacking away the hand he held out and engulfing John in a bone-crushing hug.

"Good to see you too, Carson," he forced out of his constricted lungs. When the physician didn't let go John glanced over at Rodney.

"Don't look at me," the scientist laughed, stepping to the side as if worried Carson might turn on him next.

"We thought you were dead, laddie," Carson said in his thick Scottish brogue, holding John out at arms length when he was finally done hugging him. The doctor's eyes raked over John as if he were inspecting for cracks. A little Italian grandmother fussing over her grandson to make sure he'd been taking care of himself. Apparently convinced John had, Carson let his arms go.

"I thought for sure they'd killed ya, John."

John wasn't sure what to say. He'd never been very good with scenes like these. He was too internal, too private with his emotions to be any good at it. McKay was no help at all and was standing off to one side, his aged face unreadable.

"Well, they didn't. I'm still alive and kicking."

Carson smiled at him, his eyes going misty for a moment before he turned to Rodney. "He give you any trouble?"

"Of course he did," Rodney replied. "I practically had to drag him back here kicking and screaming."

"Well, I'd expect nothing less from our Colonel Sheppard," Carson said, turning back to John to wink at him. "You look good, laddie."

"So do you, Carson."

The doctor sobered. "I'm a lot better now that you're here. And not a moment too soon, I'm afraid..."

"Carson…" Rodney warned suddenly, and the doctor snapped his mouth shut as though he'd just said something he shouldn't have.

John looked to Rodney for clarification, raising a confused brow. Rodney just shook his head ever so slightly. It was his don't ask me, not yet head shake.

"Look, I hate to break up this little reunion," Rodney continued on as if nothing had happened, checking his watch, "but we were due in Landry's office like ten minutes ago."

"Oh of course," Carson said, stepping away. "Well, you must let me buy you a drink tonight at the officer's club, Sheppard. We've a lot to catch up on."

Carson shook his hand and then disappeared down the corridor before John could even open his mouth to answer.

"Officer's club?" he asked Rodney as they started walking again.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Do you remember that old TV show M*A*S*H?"

"Sure."

"Well, some of the Marines on base have been binge-watching all the seasons on Netflix. Someone got it in their head that the SGC needed an officer's club like they had in one of the episodes. I mean, they call it an officer's club but anyone can drink there. I didn't have the heart to tell them that the SGC already has an officer's club."

This was all news to John who had spent considerable chunks of his leave time at the Cheyenne base. Whenever they wanted a drink back then, they either got one from some superior officer who kept a bottle hidden in his desk, or down the mountain at one of the many bars that had sprung up in the small towns surrounding the base. Times certainly had changed.

"I'm sure you'll hear aaaall about it tonight if you decide to go," Rodney informed him, as though he knew from experience. "But come on, Landry will be waiting for us."

John fell into step beside Rodney, even though he was pretty sure he could find the old office that had once belonged to George S. Hammond, then Jack O'Neill, and finally Hank Landry, the senior, blindfolded and in the dark. But Rodney seemed to be taking his job of ushering John through the base very seriously. The man was practically glowing with self-importance as he returned the greetings nearly every soldier and scientist in the place gave him as they walked.

Most of these people barely even registered John's presence. But every so often a pair of eyes would linger on his face for just a second longer than probably intended. And then there was the rare occasion when people stopped right in the middle of the hall to turn around and whisper at their backs as John and Rodney continued on down the hall. These were the people John figured had recognized him immediately. It was only a matter of time before the base was buzzing with the news that the SGC's prodigal son had finally returned.

Every once in a while, John and Rodney would pass clumps of soldiers on their way to some other part of the base. John checked all of their patches and realized he didn't know how to address any of them, their insignia's completely foreign to him. The highest-ranking official on base could've come up to them right then and John wouldn't have any idea. The sooner he got through the training they had set up for him, the better.

When John and Rodney finally started getting closer to the huge doors that marked the entrance to the embarkation room, John felt some of his earlier apprehension start to resurface. Pretty soon he would climb the stairs that would take him through the control room and over to Landry's office. It was there he would get his first glimpse of the Stargate in nearly two decades.

It still struck John as funny that he was actually here. Traveling down these corridors that were so familiar they sometimes took his breath away. It felt like coming home. And if he was feeling that way here in the SGC, then how was he going to feel when they eventually let him step foot on Atlantis. Being here again felt like coming full circle. Like a beginning right after an end. Had it not been for the events of the past, John might even have been able to enjoy it. But as things stood, it wasn't eager anticipation that flooded his veins as they neared the Gateroom, but a twinge of dread and just the slightest hint of guilt.

Rodney paused at the entrance of the staircase that would take them up into the control room and shot a glance at John over his shoulder. Sheppard expected his old friend to say something, or ask him a question, but the scientist just spent a few seconds looking over him before abruptly turning away again. John wasn't quite sure what that had been about, but thought he might have an idea. Rodney was still worried about him.

A hush fell over the control room as soon as John reached the top of the stairs a moment later, several pairs of eyes widening as they realized who had arrived. John ignored all of this as he took in the sight of the Stargate sitting silent, grey and cold in the chamber below. It was as beautiful as he remembered.

"Colonel Sheppard!" a wizened old voice called out to him, and John tore his eyes away from the gate to see who had addressed him. Several Marines were helping a very old man up from out of his seat.

It took him a second or two, but as soon as Walter Davis smiled up at him, John recognized him immediately.

"Master Sergeant Davis, it's good to see you again," he said warmly, taking the hand Davis held out to him. Walter seemed ancient, as though he might evaporate on the spot if John shook him too hard.

"Oh hell, it's just plain old Walter these days," the aged voice replied with a smile. "I'm still retired."

John was relieved to hear it. If the SGC was asking 80-year-old men to come out of retirement then they really must be desperate.

"This is my grandson," Walter informed him proudly, pointing towards one of the Marines that had helped him out of his chair. The one still hovering close to his grandpa's side as though he was worried Walter might topple over at any moment. "He brought me by for a visit."

John nodded a hello to the young man. "That's wonderful, Sir."

"I had a hankering to see the old girl again," Walter said, inclining his head back towards the Gateroom.

"You know what, Walter," John said, leaning in. "That's exactly why I'm here, too."

Walter beamed up at him, his smile increasing the wrinkles around his eyes. It made John's heart ache a bit.

"I really hate to do this to you guys," Rodney interrupted their moment, "but I really do have to steal Colonel Sheppard away. General Landry is waiting for us and we are very, very late."

The old Master Sergeant's face fell.

"Don't you worry, Walter," John said, "I just gotta go do this one thing with the boss, and then I'll come visit with you for a bit if you're still around when we're done."

"I'll be waiting," Walter said, his face lighting up once again.

John said his goodbyes and then Rodney was dragging him away again. They arrived at Landry's closed door a moment later.

"What, Rodney?" he asked when the scientist just stood there.

Rodney spun around to face him. "Are you sure you're still ok with this?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"It's just… I was with you in the helicopter, remember?"

John did remember, suddenly aware that he was miles underground and surrounded by nothing but rock. The wide open spaces of Blue River seemed so very far away. "Yeah, so?"

"So, I was serious when I told you Landry looks a lot like his uncle. It can be a little… disconcerting at times."

"I'm not a child, Rodney," John said, scowling. "You don't have to protect me."

"I know that. It's just…" It was as if Rodney could see through all of the layers of his bullshit, around every single barrier John had thrown up since arriving here.

The scientist was right, John was a bit skittish about meeting Landry for the first time. Especially after hearing about the strong family resemblance. John was the reason the young General's uncle was dead, after all. So yeah, he was still feeling a bit apprehensive about all this. Hank Landry, Sr. was dead, and like Sam Carter and Cameron Mitchell, that blood was on John's hand.

"See!" Rodney exclaimed, snapping his fingers under John's nose. "You see what I mean?"

" What ?"

"You keep disappearing on me. You clearly aren't ready for this."

"It's just a lot to process, Rodney," John snapped before lowering his voice again. "I'll be fine."

Rodney looked as though he hardly believed him.

"I promise, ok?" John tried again. "Let's go. We're late enough as it is."

Appealing to Rodney's sense of punctuality seemed to do the trick and a moment later he turned away and rapped his knuckles against the door. A high, nasally voice from within let them know it was ok to enter a beat later.

John walked into General Hank Landry's office and was struck by how different it looked. It was bigger, for starters, someone having cannibalized a nearby conference room to create a much larger space. The furnishings were completely unfamiliar and everything had a sharp, modern look to it. It was like they had stepped out of the mountain and into a museum. But instead of cold and unfeeling, the space was surprisingly comfortable and inviting. A table and chairs had been added to one corner of the room and several uniformed officers were leaning over it discussing something in lowered voices. Papers and maps were strewn about the tabletop. Every single one of them stopped what they were doing as John and Rodney entered. John also stopped what he was doing as he finally got his first look at Hank Landry, junior.

Everything everyone had told him was true. The young general was a spitting image of his uncle. And if John hadn't known any better, he would have just assumed the two men were brothers.

But there were subtle differences, too. This incarnation of Landry sported thick glasses and a receding hairline. He was also rake-thin and incredibly tall. He towered over nearly every single man in the room, including John.

"Colonel Sheppard," the man in question said, walking over to them. "I can't even begin to tell you how happy I am to meet you." Landry took John's hand in both his own and shook it vigorously. John had to tilt his head up just to look the man in the eye.

"General," John greeted him back. Landry dropped his hand and turned to address the other officers in the room.

"Gentlemen, why don't we pick this back up again, say around…" he glanced down at a ratty old watch encircling his wrist, "0600?"

The men all nodded in agreement and began gathering up their things. There were whispers among them as they all filed out of the room and past where John stood, still rooted in place. The glances they shot him ranged anywhere from bewildered to all-out shock. John knew he was going to have to try and get used to that. He couldn't imagine those looks were going to go away any time soon.

Once the officers were gone and Landry's office door was closed again, the man ushered them over to the two pointy-looking chairs that sat in front of his all white desk. They were deep, comfortable, and well padded, a fact that surprised John who half expected to cut himself on their sharp edges as he sat down. This place was a far cry from his cozy cabin in Wisconsin.

"How was your flight?" Landry asked them as he took his own seat behind the desk.

"No problems whatsoever," Rodney answered for them.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. It turned more than a few heads when I requested the Colonel's new ID."

As if remembering the Colonel in question, Landry turned his cool, steely grey eyes on John. They looked enormous yet friendly behind the man's rather unfortunate glasses. If this had been before the war, John imagined the man would have been ineligible for the military on his eyesight alone.

"Colonel Sheppard, may I say again what an honor it is to have you here with us? I can't even begin to tell you how much we appreciate your willingness to come back to the SGC and give this another try."

John considered telling the General right then and there that he had no intention of sticking around once Atlantis was back home. But instinct told him maybe he should just keep that bit of information to himself, at least for the time being. He needed more time to figure out how all of this was going to work.

"I'm just happy for the opportunity, General," John replied as diplomatically as he could.

Landry tilted his head ever so slightly to the side. "I find that hard to believe."

"Sir?"

"From what Dr. McKay has told me, you weren't too thrilled with the fact that he showed up on your doorstep the other day."

John glared over at Rodney. But the scientist just gave him a look which seemed to suggest he saw nothing wrong with his actions. John had seen Rodney sneak off last night and make a few phone calls. He figured his old friend was probably talking to someone at the SGC, he just never imagined it would be the General himself. Or that Rodney would just go and blab all of John's business to his brand new boss.

"I'll admit, I was rather surprised to get a visit from Doctor McKay," John said, emphasizing Rodney's title with a glare. "But it was your boy Bradshaw who really mucked up the waters."

"Ah yes, Major Bradshaw," Landry said, leaning forward in his chair and resting his arms on the desk. "Believe me, Colonel Sheppard, the Office of Appropriations is well aware of the mistakes they made. I saw to that personally."

John wanted to ask if that included Richard Woolsey but couldn't bring himself to even utter the man's name.

"But Major Bradshaw is not the only reason you're reconsidering your agreement with Dr. McKay, is it?" Landry continued. The General seemed to be reading John like a book, something he was not entirely comfortable with. Either he had somehow lost his ability to play things close to the vest over the past 18 years, or Landry was incredibly perceptive. Of course, there was always the possibility it was all just one big shot in the dark. Either way, John's new boss was calling him out.

Well, two could play at that game. "I'm not sure what you mean, Sir."

Landry looked at him seriously. "I'm no fool, Colonel Sheppard. I know what you must be thinking. What right do we have to track you down after all these years and ask you to return? That had to have made you incredibly angry."

"Suppose that it did," John said, ignoring the way Rodney stiffened in the chair beside him. "Let's say that I am pissed. Pissed that after 18 years of doing everything I possibly could to get away from this place, the organization responsible for destroying my life had the nerve to come back into it and ask for my help. For a favor . How would you feel if you were in my shoes?"

A slight smile had been playing at the corners of the General's mouth, but he suddenly went serious. "I imagine I would have reacted much the same way you did," he admitted. "And would also have told Major Bradshaw to…" Landry pulled a file over from a stack on his desk and flipped to the first page, " get the hell out of my town and tell those assholes at the SGC to fuck off , if I may be so bold as to paraphrase your own words."

Rodney snorted in his chair.

"But then ," the General continued, "I would have gotten a visit from my very good friend, Dr. McKay and he would have explained to me the real reasons behind the SGC wanting to find me. I would have learned of the changes that had been made and the opportunities awaiting me if I decided to give it another shot."

John contemplated this for a moment. He knew the next question he wanted to ask, but there was no way of asking it that didn't sound pathetic and juvenile. "But… why me ?"

"Well, I would think that was obvious," Landry replied. "You are the only one on Earth with the ATA gene strong enough to fly Atlantis back to Pegasus."

"But that's not the whole story, is it General? They don't just give someone like me a promotion and a command. Not after…" John couldn't finish and Landry thankfully didn't make him.

"Give yourself some credit, Sheppard," the General said. "You wouldn't believe the number of people who came through my office, sat in that very chair no less, and whispered in my ear how you're the only man for this job."

"But there's more to it, isn't there?" John repeated, recalling something Carson had said to him in the corridor by the elevators. Something Rodney hadn't let him explain. "There's something else going on here."

"You're right Colonel," Landry replied with amusement lighting up his eyes again as he leaned back in his chair. "Flying Atlantis home and leading the expedition are not the only reasons we asked you back."

"I suspected as much," John said dryly.

"Colonel, if we could have left you alone in that little cabin in Wisconsin, believe me, we would have. But the SGC has an ongoing situation here that goes beyond us needing just your Ancient gene. We need your expertise."

"I'm listening..."

"Having Atlantis on Earth has afforded us the opportunity to try and find other people with the ATA gene naturally occurring and who might be able to handle the city. We searched for years, but no one was ever able to command the Ancient's technology like you could. The hope was that we would eventually find someone so that we wouldn't even need to bother you. And we did find some really promising candidates. Unfortunately, none of those prospects panned out."

"Why not?" John asked.

"Because they're all dead," Rodney replied before the General could.

John turned towards his friend, eyes wide. "What happened?"

All the color had gone from Rodney's face. Whatever was happening here had him spooked. "Someone is trying to sabotage the mission, and attacking anyone associated with the expedition to do it."

"Don't you think that's something you ought to have told me yesterday , Rodney? You know, when you were going on and on about how I should come back?" John was mad now. He hadn't signed up for this.

"Well forgive me for not starting our conversation out with 'Oh hey, Sheppard, how've ya been? Guess what, someone is killing off all of our ATA gene carriers back home. Want to catch a flight with me back to Colorado and help me figure out who?"

"Actually, Rodney, you should have!"

"Oh please," Rodney shot back, waving a hand dismissively.

"Gentlemen, please!" Landry cut in before John could say something he'd regret. Rodney turned away with a scowl and crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

"Look, Colonel Sheppard," Landry continued, "We have an unusual situation here, and quite frankly, we could use someone with your knowledge of the Stargate program and the SGC to help us figure out what's going on. Not to mention get us back on schedule and keep our members safe."

"So you want me to come back after nearly two decades out of uniform, figure out who's sabotaging your program, help you fly Atlantis back home, then stay on as expedition leader when I'm done?"

"Exactly," Landry replied simply.

John shook his head, still in shock over what he'd just been told. "Do you guys even have any leads on who might be behind the sabotage?"

"No," Landry replied. "Only that they're doing everything in their power to keep this expedition from getting off the ground."

"What about Beckett's research? Why don't you just synthesize the ATA gene like we did 20 years ago?"

"Believe it or not," Rodney chimed in, though John still refused to look over at him, "Carson only just agreed to start his ATA gene research back up."

"Why did he stop?" John asked.

"You know why," Rodney muttered.

And he was right. John did know. All of them did, especially the General watching them from behind his white desk with an unreadable expression on his face. It was Area 51, where Hank Landry Sr. had met his unfortunate end, but that was a story for another time.

"I can go over all this with him later if you want, General," Rodney was offering, acknowledging the sudden awkwardness that had settled between them.

Landry just shook his head. "No, go on Dr. McKay. This is all important information Colonel Sheppard should know."

Rodney cleared his throat and carefully danced around any further mention of Area 51. "We're still running into the same problems we had with the gene therapy before," he explained. "Only 50% or so of the people who get it actually take to it, and even less than half of that 50% are actually able to use the Atlantis technology safely."

"And believe me, Colonel Sheppard," Landry cut in, "we've tried everything we can think of to find someone else to do this, but there's just no one quite like you left in the world. Not with your background or extensive knowledge of the Pegasus galaxy and Atlantis. Our numbers are just too few to trust this with anyone else but you. You're the one the IOA wants."

John contemplated the General's words for a moment.

They were wrapped up in fancy paper, but what Landry was implying was that John was a last resort. A gamble the new IOA was willing to take in order to get their precious expedition back off the ground. They were willing to let bygones be bygones, but only under the threat of sabotage. John couldn't decide if he was honored by what they were asking of him, or incredibly pissed at their presumptiveness.

"If I do this," he started slowly, sitting forward, "what would the next step be?"

"We honor our promise, of course," Landry said. "We give you the rank of Brigadier General and then we get you started on a several weeks long program we have set up for our returning retirees. You help us investigate the sabotage while you're here."

"And what, you just pray who's ever behind this doesn't come after me directly?" Again, not what he had signed up for.

"I know it's not exactly the best of circumstances, but know this. We will do everything in our power to make sure you and the rest of your crew are safe."

Landry couldn't promise him anything concrete, John understood that, but it was still an incredible thing they were asking him to do. And so much more than he'd bargained for.

"Look Colonel," Landry went on, "as of right now you are still technically a civilian and not under my command. Tomorrow at 1100 hours we will conduct the re-enlistment Ceremony in the Gateroom. Until then, your time is your own. Take a walk around the base. Say hello to some old friends. If tomorrow you show up at the ceremony, fantastic. If not, I thank you for your service and the valiant and brave years you gave to your country as an officer of the United States Air Force. My uncle had nothing but the utmost respect for you, Colonel Sheppard. As do all the men and women who would be under your command if you decided to stay. We are all honored to have known you. Even if, for some of us, that time may be very brief."

Landry rose from his seat, their conversation apparently over. Old training had John snapping up out of his chair to give Landry the salute his rank demanded. Rodney got up, too, but it took longer for him when arthritic knees apparently protested again.

Landry returned John's salute, smiling sadly. "I think Uncle Hank would have been very happy to know that we'd met," the man said quietly, leaning in as he shook John's hand firmly.

Not trusting his voice at the moment, John just nodded. He followed Rodney out into the hall and didn't start breathing again until the door had closed behind them.

"Well," Rodney said after a dramatic sigh, "that could have gone worse."