There was a certain feeling John would get every time he settled down into the space of a cockpit. It always seemed to start in the very center of his stomach, near his navel. The feeling would start small at first, and then explode outwards into a full-on euphoria the exact moment his landing gear left the runway. Time itself would stop. His heart would go silent in his chest for a fraction of a second. John Sheppard had nearly forgotten all about that feeling. Or at least he had until the exact moment he slipped past the invisible cloak concealing the ancient city of Atlantis and it detonated inside his stomach.
He was home.
"Holy shit," Fitzpatrick muttered, as he stumbled up beside John at the bow.
But John barely even registered the former SEAL was standing there. He was too busy blinking up into the sun and trying to spot the tops of the tall spires that rose up around him as if Atlantis had suddenly thrust her hands up into the sky in elation that he had returned. His city was brilliant in the midday sun and not even Fitzpatrick hovering near his elbow and watching his every move could deter him from enjoying every second of it.
John's blood was alive under the pull of nearby Ancient tech, his ATA gene tugging him forward by the power of the connections reaching out to him. It was as if every corner of Atlantis was suddenly calling out to every corner of John and something suddenly slotted itself back into place at the center of him. It was something he'd never even realized he'd lost, and its sudden and unexpected reappearance in its rightful place inside his chest was enough to nearly knock him over.
Atlantis looked exactly the same. From the gunboat grey color of her tall outer towers to the sparkling water that lapped up gently against her silvery, sleek underbelly. It all came at him with the concussive G-Force of a takeoff that pushed him back bodily even as the city before him drew him in greedily.
This was really happening. After eighteen fucking years, John Sheppard was home.
The dilapidated boat they were in motored its way over to one of the city's piers. There was a young man there waiting for them who made quick work of tying off the boat. Rodney made it off first and then waited for John to follow.
"Sure is something, isn't she?" Rodney waxed a little poetic when John finally joined him.
He wrenched his eyes away from the city again to look over at his friend, even though he knew there would be no checking the raw emotion he knew Rodney would see there in his eyes.
The scientist smiled. No, scratch that. Rodney McKay beamed at him like he was taking sole credit for reuniting two long-lost friends. John had half a mind to pull the old fool in for an awkward, one-armed hug. He didn't of course, but the thought was enough to get him to smile back.
"Welcome home," Rodney whispered so only John could hear.
He needed some kind of purchase, an anchor perhaps, or the enormity of what he was feeling was liable to send him over the edge of the pier. He clapped a hand on Rodney's shoulder and the scientist grabbed his elbow a second later to steady him as John swayed slightly on his feet.
"Woah there, cowboy."
"Shit," John sputtered, embarrassed at being so overwhelmed. Luckily, Fitzpatrick was too busy helping Carson out of the boat to notice.
"You'll get used to it again soon," Rodney assured him. John met and held the scientist's gaze for a moment, instantly aware of the heat on his elbow where Rodney's hand still lingered. He looked down and Rodney immediately dropped it away.
"I don't know about you two," Carson said, coming up beside them and completely oblivious to the moment he'd just interrupted. "I'd like to head inside and see what a mess they're making of my infirmary."
John took his own hand off Rodney's shoulder as the scientist turned towards the physician. "You can head over there if you want, but I need Sheppard in the Gateroom for something first."
After a brief conversation on the subject, Carson decided he'd rather stay with them and the three friends made the rest of their trip caught up in a net of old memories. Fitzpatrick fell into step behind them silently. The former SEAL didn't attempt to impinge on their conversation, but John was conscious of his razor-sharp gaze on his back the entire way. By the time they finally reached the cavernous room that held Atlantis' Stargate he was about ready to turn around and ask the man what in the hell he was expecting John to do.
Only stepping into the Atlantis Gateroom was like stepping back in time, and John forgot all about their unwanted party crasher a moment later. Nothing about the place had changed and there were even a few techs working behind a console or two up on the main platform. Had they been dressed in the old uniforms the expedition team used to wear, John would have suspected he'd really just been hurtled back in time... which had been known to happen on Atlantis.
The San Francisco Bay was on full display through the floor-to-ceiling windows across the sonorous room. The sight of the red-laddered skeleton of the Golden Gate Bridge was the only thing that suggested Atlantis was not where she was supposed to be. Even the water outside was the same azure blue as the oceans of New Lantia, and all of it was being watched over by the tall, imposing Stargate standing sentry from one end of the room.
Seeing the Gateroom again brought a flood of good memories back to John. He even let a few of them play out in his mind: Ronon's first mission, pushing Rodney off the upper-level balcony after they'd found that personal shield, Elizabeth walking across the elevated platform to greet each returning team... The memories were as much a part of John as this place was and he let himself get lost in them for a moment. Or rather for as long as he could before Evan Lorne bounded down the Gateroom stairs to greet them.
"Guys," he nodded to them each in turn before throwing up a salute to John. "Brigadier General Sheppard."
"So this is where you've been hiding," John said, ignoring the salute, and the hint of mischief in his soon-to-be second in command's eyes.
"Yeah, I've been working over here a bit lately," Lorne explained. "Just making sure everyone stays safe." With the threat of sabotage hanging over their heads, John could understand the SGC wanting a little extra security.
"How are things going on that front?" Rodney asked. "Any suspicious activity?"
"Nope, everything's been quiet. There have been a couple of ATA carriers aboard for the past few days testing systems and there haven't been any problems."
Everyone glanced over to John after Lorne said this and he flinched under their apprehensive gazes. "What? Besides Fitz over here, no one's tried to kill me. At least, not yet anyway."
"That's not funny, Sheppard," Rodney chided.
"Relax, Rodney. And here I thought you guys said all the ATA gene carriers were dead," John pointed out, ignoring the looks the men around him were still giving him.
"That's news to me, too," Fitzpatrick chimed in. No one had been paying much attention to him and he'd wandered off towards the Stargate.
"Who's your friend?" Lorne asked quietly.
"People keep telling me he's the guy who's supposed to get me back into shape," John replied.
"He's the one responsible for all this?" Lorne asked, gesturing up to John's face.
"Yes," John said. "And in return, I gave him two black eyes and a broken nose. Ain't that right, Fitz?" he called over his shoulder.
"Sure," the former SEAL said, apparently too mesmerized by the Stargate to actually be listening.
"Anyway, I guess Landry suggested he come along," John said, turning back around.
Lorne nodded. "Well, to answer your question, we do still have a few people left with the gene. None are much good at doing much else besides turning on the lights, but we wanted to keep them a secret just in case. The fewer people who know they're here, the better."
"What steps are you taking for added security Colonel?" their taciturn fifth wheel asked as he walked back over to the group.
"We're adding more surveillance cameras, tougher security checkpoints at the entrances..."
"But no one stopped us!" Rodney interrupted Lorne.
"Well, that would be because we knew you were coming, Dr. McKay," Lorne replied curtly, managing to hide any displeasure he might have felt at being interrupted.
He turned back to Fitzgerald. "But now that Sheppard is back, Rodney assures us he can get all the city's sensors working again."
"I said I'd try ," Rodney muttered.
"Tis a damn shame we even need them at all," Carson reflected, shaking his head sadly.
"Yeah well, with half the men, even less than half the budget, and an entire city to monitor, we do what we can," Lorne replied with a shrug.
"Well, as interesting as this little security debriefing has been," Rodney interrupted yet again, "I'd like to take General Sheppard over to the control chair room. You guys just... keep doing whatever it was you were doing. And try not to break my city."
Rodney started walking off towards the exit, hauling a befuddled John along behind him. He shot Lorne an apologetic glance over his shoulder, just in time to see his 2IC roll his eyes and chuckle to himself. Rodney was too eager to get John out of the Gateroom to notice.
Carson, wanting to check on the progress of his infirmary, left them in the corridor just outside. Alone at last (well, except for Fitzpatrick) John let Rodney pull him down familiar passageways and off towards a room he never expected to see again.
"I thought you had something you wanted me to do in the Gateroom," John pointed out to Rodney as they walked.
The scientist glanced over at Fitzpatrick who was hanging back a bit as he took in the sights around him. "That was just an excuse to get you in there. I figured you would want to see it after so many years away, and Lorne was begging me to bring you by."
"Gotcha," John replied, not really sure what to make of Rodney's thoughtfulness.
"But wait till you see this, Sheppard," he spouted on animatedly. "Remember that power source I was telling you about back in Wisconsin?"
"The one you wanted to surprise me with?"
"That one," Rodney said excitedly. "You have to see this. We're storing them all in here for now."
Rodney approached the control chair room first with a very nervous John right behind him. A silent Fitzpatrick took up the rear, though John could still feel those eyes on him. He did his best to ignore the hovering and tried to focus his attention on remaining calm.
John's life had been irrevocably altered in the room they were about to visit and he had no idea how he was going to react once he eventually got inside. A million tiny emotions and sensations were all traveling up and down his spine and it all suddenly felt strange and risky. As if he were about to leave on some life or death mission. Panic played at the edges of his mind, but John held it back, determined not to let fear rob him of this moment. A moment almost 18 years in the making.
Rodney paused before the door and swiped a hand across the sensor as if it were the most natural thing in the world. A small vortex of air pulled at John's pant legs from the negative pressure as it slid open. He stiffened and his eyes went a little wide as he got his first look inside a room where life as he'd known it had ended…
When John had last been inside the control chair room, it had been a charred and smoking mess, it's center collapsed into the level below and its walls riddled with the injury of explosion. He could almost picture his body lying just inside the door where he had been thrown against the wall by the sheer force of that explosion. It had rocked through Atlantis only an hour or so after John had let the city crash into the San Francisco Bay.
The memory came back to him suddenly. All the city's systems had failed and something in the level below had blasted its way up through the floor beneath the chair. Just as he was returning to try and find Zelenka. Good grief, Radek Zelenka. How many years had it been since John had thought about him?
Memories drew John further into the room, but he didn't get far. Panic nudged up against him, persistent and demanding. He half expected another explosion to rock the room and send him flying. Fitzpatrick came up beside him, but John just shook his head to let the guy know it was nothing to worry about.
That explosion years ago had sent shrapnel ripping through John's body. His knee suddenly opened up in a phantom pain that sliced its way up his thigh. He'd been a mess of internal bleeding from the force of his flight through the air and into that wall, but the physical memories were something he could manage. It was the emotion that was threatening to unhinge him.
"Everything ok?" Fitz asked from near his elbow.
Hell, if this was how it was going to be for the next few weeks, John was going to lose it for real.
"All good," he lied.
John glanced over at Rodney who was standing near the repaired control chair, his back to them and frozen in place. Maybe John wasn't the only one Fitzpatrick should be worried about. Rodney was likely facing the same painful memories as John. He was standing in the exact same spot he'd been in all those years ago after he and Carson had burst into the control chair room screaming at John stop.
"...there are people on those ships!"
Rodney's remembered words echoed through his skull like they had echoed around the control chair room so many years ago. John closed his eyes against a wave of nausea as the lights in the room pulsed above their heads. It was as if Atlantis were remembering what happened next right along with him.
John's life had been over the moment Rodney had uttered those words. He'd just taken out the last of the Wraith Hive Ships in the skies above Earth. The deed done mere seconds before Carson and Rodney had burst into the room. Carson, disheveled and heartbroken as he told John everything. That was when John lost it. And perhaps for the first time in his life. The weight of the realization of what he'd done… what he'd been ordered to do, had just been too much. By the time he'd got a hold of himself enough to realize Atlantis was being drawn in by Earth's gravity, there was nothing he could do to avoid a crash landing. The city had ended up in the middle of the San Francisco Bay moments later.
"Someone talk to me," Fitzpatrick demanded, glancing up at the lights warily. "What's going on here?"
Rodney turned around and John locked gazes with him yet again. He nodded, letting his old friend know he knew exactly what he was going through. Rodney sighed heavily and the lights in the room settled back to baseline.
"It's nothing," John replied to Fitzpatrick, "just some old ghosts."
"Now," Rodney said suddenly, apparently over whatever it was that had just happened. "How about that surprise I was telling you about?"
John stepped out of Rodney's way as the scientist puffed out his chest a little and walked over to where a large crate was sitting along one far wall. Rodney suddenly looked like his former self again, standing there with a smug smile that dripped so much of self-appreciation John just had to laugh. When his friend gestured toward the crate proudly, all that seemed to be missing was a dramatic drumroll.
John, enjoying the sight of a happy Rodney McKay, walked up to the crate and lifted the heavy lid. Neatly organized inside, and stacked into several straight rows about 10 high, was a collection of glowing ZPMs that colored John's face orange as he peered down at them. He sucked in a breath, still tender ribs protesting the sudden expansion. There were enough Zero Point Modules in that crate to power Atlantis for an eternity.
"Where in the hell did you find all of these?" His thoughts immediately went to Todd and the Wraith, their last source of a ZPM, but that was impossible. The Wraith had been obliterated thanks to Atlantis and the weapons platform at Area 51.
"Would you believe we found them in Antarctica hidden in a chamber under where the control chair used to sit?" Rodney replied excitedly. "All those years and we had all the power we needed buried right there under the ice!"
"How? John asked, genuinely interested as he pulled out one of the ZPMs from the crate and held it in his hands. He'd forgotten how heavy those suckers could be.
Rodney made a move like he wanted to yank it from his grasp and scold him for touching things that didn't belong to him, but the scientist wisely refrained. "It was right after the chair was moved to Area 51. We scanned for energy readings there years ago, obviously, but it was always assumed the power source the team found was just the ZedPM powering the chair. But as it turned out, that ZedPM's energy source and the surrounding layers of ice were only masking the massive store of them that was hidden underneath! We only found them a few months ago when I did a sweep of the planet with a new device I'm working on."
"So you found them by accident," John pointed out, smiling over at Rodney.
The scientist scowled back. "Hardly."
"So you found a stash of Zero Point Modules and bibity-bobity-boo, the Atlantis Expedition is back on."
"Well… yeah," Rodney answered like it was the most logical conclusion in the world.
"And then the SGC tapped me to come back and fly the city home."
"Exactly!"
"Wow, Rodney. I'm impressed."
John smiled widely over at his friend, but Rodney looked like he was having a hard time deciding if John was being serious or not.
"Mock me all you want, Sheppard," Rodney snapped, apparently choosing the latter and going all high and mighty on John in an instant, "but I found us enough power to last a lifetime and we're going back to Pegasus because of it."
"I know you did Rodney," he said, handing the ZPM back over to his friend. "You did good. I'm very impressed."
John watched Rodney's face morph from indignation into smugness again when he realized John had just complimented him. "Well... thanks," he said, ducking his head a bit.
"Give credit where credit is due. That's my motto."
Rodney snorted. "Since when do you have a motto?"
"Since right now I guess."
Rodney was apparently not amused and shook his head at John as he placed the ZPM back in its crate. When he turned around again, his eyes were alight with mischief.
"So, do you want to sit in it?" he said, wagging his eyebrows suggestively as he gestured towards the chair.
John found himself glancing over at Fitzpatrick. The former Petty Officer nodded as if to indicate he had no problem with the plan. He wasn't really sure why he'd done it. It wasn't as if John cared for, or even wanted the man's opinion.
"I've routed most of the city's main systems into her so we can use the neural interface to run some diagnostics. I mean... you know, if you're up for it," Rodney went on, oblivious.
John cast apprehensive eyes back over to the chair he hadn't sat in in over 18 years. The ATA gene in his blood had been restless ever since he'd stepped through the cloak separating Atlantis from the rest of Earth. Something inside of John made him stretch his tingling fingers out instinctively. His city was calling to him and it was as come-hither a feeling as Carrie standing at the foot of the staircase curling a finger for him to join her upstairs.
And all that power , the potential .
John shivered, but it wasn't out of anticipation. Not entirely, anyway. It was more out of sudden dread... because while Atlantis called to him from somewhere unseen, there was another side to the unbridled power and control she offered. The last time John had been in the control chair he'd fallen over into that other side. That other place where defensive drones could be used to blast entire Wraith Hive ships out of the sky as billions of people lost their lives... So many lives, all thanks to one man in a chair...
John felt the familiar pull of panic threatening as bitterness flooded the back of his throat. He retracted his hand and formed a fist. This was something huge. A leap of faith he wasn't quite ready for.
John found himself looking back and forth between McKay and Fitzpatrick for some kind of confirmation on what he was supposed to do. But both men were just staring back at him impassively with nothing helpful on their faces.
John clenched his teeth, closed his eyes on a tense exhale, and made himself walk over to the chair. He climbed up the dais stairs and settled into it cautiously, half expecting Atlantis to suck him in and restraints to appear to hold him down. That was a ridiculous notion, of course, and John sat back in the chair without incident.
He might have been able to keep his face a mask of calm, but on the inside, John's heart was racing. It was like a drum line against his broken ribs, each beat swelling towards some unknown crescendo as he let his hands rest on the cool gel pads on either arm of the chair.
John could have tried to prepare himself for what came next, but it would have been useless. The back of the chair began to recline and John's body came alive with the sudden jolt of direct connection.
The feeling of completeness was instantaneous as every molecule of Atlantis passed through him at once, broadcasting hurts, severed connections, and incomplete circuits until it nearly overwhelmed him. Rodney was beside the chair in an instant, placing a calming hand on John's forearm.
"Just breathe," he murmured as he rubbed a thumb back and forth against John's arm. "It's like riding a bike. Just think about where we are in the universe."
Even though John's eyes were closed, he still smiled. Of course Rodney would use that as a way to calm him down. Of course his oldest friend would bring up the first time they had met.
Rodney moved to take his hand away again. But before he could get far, John grabbed for his retreating wrist and squeezed lightly. The overwhelming instant of everything became a calm landscape of nothing as all of Atlantis lay before John like a blank computer screen. He imagined a single white cursor blinking in the middle of it, the words 'shall we begin' appearing there suddenly as if typed.
"Ok?" Rodney asked, sounding more than a little worried. John pried his eyes open and nodded. He was breathing heavily, and his ribs were still throbbing, but otherwise he seemed to be perfectly fine.
"All systems go," John said, his voice still a little hoarse, "though you've got a major coolant leak in the propulsion systems you should probably get fixed before we take off. I doubt the SGC would appreciate us blowing Atlantis out of the sky the first day we fire her back up."
Rodney smiled with a nod, and then headed over to the consoles on the other side of the room. The two friends spent the next few hours or so identifying some of the larger issues Rodney and his team could focus on in the coming weeks.
Having three, fully powered ZPMs plugged into the city made such a difference. She was finally running how her makers had always intended: firing on all cylinders and purring like a kitten. Well, for the most part, anyway. There was still a lot of work to be done before they could get Atlantis back up amongst the stars.
Not only did the city seem happy to be at full power, but it was also making John's life a bit easier as well. He ran through her systems with ease, gaining access to things he'd never accessed before. Entire networks that had probably been dormant since the time of the Ancients. Rodney was eating it all up like some kid at Christmas and John tried to remember the last time he'd seen his friend so happy.
But as fun as running diagnostics with Rodney all day was, the fact still remained that Atlantis was a complex system. After a handful of hours, John was starting to feel the effects of mucking around in those complex systems and tweaking the things Rodney asked him to tweak. His hands were beginning to tremble a little - and not from panic this time. He could also feel the first faint whispers of a migraine building up behind his right eye. John knew if he didn't want to spend the next day huddled under the blankets of his bed fighting it off, he needed to take a break.
While they were working, Fitzpatrick had disappeared for a time. It really was boring work and John couldn't blame him for wanting to take a look around. But as soon as Fitz got back, he zeroed in on John instantly and walked over. Maybe he really was a hound dog trained to pick up on discomfort.
"Do you need a break?" he asked.
John nodded, wincing a little, and lifted his hands from the pad of the chair. The bits of code that had been projecting from the chair cut off instantly.
"Hey! Why'd you stop!" Rodney demanded, popping his head out from under one of the consoles. "I was right in the middle…" But Rodney stopped talking immediately. John figured it probably had something to do with the fact that he was hunched over in the chair and massaging his temples.
"Shit, Sheppard. I'm sorry. I should have known."
"It's alright, Rodney. I could have said something, too."
Fitzpatrick pressed a cold bottle of water into John's hands and he drank half of it down in a few gulps.
"You know what," Rodney said, setting his tablet down onto the console. "I think I need a break too. I'm going to go see what Carson is up to."
Rodney made his way to the door. John nearly asked him to stay, but stayed silent in the end.
"Just try not to beat the shit out of each other while I'm gone, ok?" the scientist said before disappearing into the hall. John watched him go, finding himself alone, once again, with Fitzpatrick. How did the guy keep managing that?
"Is this another one of those times when I'm supposed to share my feelings with you?" John muttered, entirely uninterested in the prospect of explaining any of this to the former Navy SEAL.
Fitzpatrick shrugged, lowering himself down onto one of the dais steps. "I guess that's up to you."
"Sure it is," John snorted.
"I'm serious, Sheppard. The more you work with me the quicker I get out of your hair."
"You all act like it's so easy," John grumbled.
"So start small," Fitz suggested, gesturing around the room. "Tell me about this place. From what I read, you got injured pretty badly in this room. Enough for the Air Force to pronounce you dead after you disappeared anyway."
"Guess they got that one wrong," John replied with a mirthless laugh. He expected Fitzpatrick to join in, but the former SEAL was looking up at him gravely.
"What good would it do?" John asked with a sigh.
"I would have thought our Bantos session the other day made that fairly obvious," Fitz replied. "Just talk to me."
"Are you gonna beat me up again if I don't?"
"I don't know, can you stop deflecting for one goddamn minute and give me a straight answer?"
"Pissing me off might have worked once, Petty Officer ," John said heatedly, "but not this time. You need some new material."
Fitzpatrick's eyes darkened. "I told you once before, Sheppard, don't call me Petty Officer. I'm gonna give you a pass this time, but say it again and I will kick your ass."
John was unphased. "If you're so big on sharing, then why don't you tell me why you won't re-enlist?"
Fitzpatrick's eyes narrowed. John expected him to flat out refuse, but the former SEAL was still full of surprises.
"I'll make you a deal," he said, scratching under his chin as he decided on terms. "I'll tell you my story if you tell me about everything that happened after the crash. And I mean everything, Sheppard. From right before the crash and up until they flew you out of here on that Medevac chopper. Agreed?"
John paused for a moment, trying to decide if the bargain was worth it. To be honest, he could have given a rat's ass about Sean Fitzpatrick's history at the moment. He was still too pissed over the constant hovering. But there was another part of John that knew he was eventually going to have to tell Fitzpatrick everything if he expected them to let him fly Atlantis home. At least this way the sharing part was a two way street and he got to learn a little bit about the man whipping him back into shape.
"Fine," John finally agreed. "But you go first, as agreed."
"Alright then," Fitzpatrick fired back before glancing down at his hands. He was probably trying to decide where to start.
"I was home the day the Wraith attacked," he began. "I'd just finished boot camp and was awaiting my orders when those... things started culling. My entire fucking neighborhood was wiped out in a matter of seconds and the only reason I wasn't there with them was because I had taken my mom's car to the gas station to fill it up for her. It was supposed to be a surprise. She was all by herself when the Wraith came and for a long time, I blamed myself that she had been alone when they took her.
I was pretty lost after that. I officially went AWOL but no one was paying much attention to all that back then. I just kinda started a new life for myself until Scott Bradshaw showed up at my door."
"I've met him," John grumbled.
"Bradshaw told me about how they were relaunching the old program my dad was a part of. By then I had gotten my degree in psychology and was actually working at the VA. They asked me to come back and help train some of their new re-enlistees. I already knew about the Stargate program so they were pretty desperate to sign me up."
"But you didn't re-enlist?" John asked.
"I was going to, but then someone let slip what really happened with the Wraith, and what those IOA guys did to you, and I told them they could shove their offer to re-enlist right up their asses."
"But you're still here…" John pointed out.
"Yeah, Landry convinced me to stay on as a civilian contractor. The pay is a lot better than the VA, though I do miss those old guys."
John tried not to take offense that he just might just be a replacement for Fitzpatrick's "old guys".
"Landry set me straight about what happened with the Wraith. Told me about how, if my mom had lived, she likely would have been nothing more than a meal to those animals. That was the only thing that convinced me to stay and help with your case."
"My case, huh?" John asked, eyebrows raised.
Fitzpatrick looked up at him. "If I told you we were leaving Earth this very moment and to sit back in that chair and fly us out of here, could you honestly tell me you'd 100% be ready for that?"
"I don't know," John replied after a few moments of thinking about it. "Probably not."
"Exactly. So quit trying to deflect and downplay the fact that you need to talk about this stuff. It's nothing to be ashamed of and it's why I'm here. A wise man might recognize that fact and use it to his advantage."
"You've obviously not read my file," John muttered back but Fitzpatrick just laughed.
"Oh, believe me, Sheppard. I've read it. Stubborn, obstinate, trouble with authority," Fitzpatrick said, counting them off on his fingers. "It's all in there. But trust me, I've seen worse."
"So why not re-enlist?" John pushed him.
"I said I would come back and help, not that I would forgive them completely for what they did and join up blindly again. Once bitten, twice shy, I guess."
"A skilled fighter like you, though," John said. "We could sure use you."
"I'm more of a lover than a fighter these days," Fitz replied.
"My face would say otherwise."
Fitz laughed at that. "Well, it's not like you were going to talk to me if I sat you down on a couch and asked you to share all your feelings with me."
"Probably not," John agreed. "Ambushing me after a long day in the control chair was a much better idea."
Fitzpatrick smirked. "Touché, Sheppard.
"Now, I believe we had a deal. My story for yours."
"I don't know, Fitz," John said slyly, "I don't think we've adequately delved into this fear you seem to have of re-enlisting."
"I'm not afraid of re-enlisting." the former SEAL replied.
"Then why not do it?" John asked.
"We're not here to discuss my motivations over not re-enlisting. We're here to help you get back into shape and lead an expedition. Now come on, Sheppard. I told you about my past. It's time for you to take me through what happened after the crash."
But John wasn't done with the former SEAL quite yet.
"You know, you keep deflecting. I can help you get over your fear of re-enlisting. A wise man would realize that fact and use it to his advantage." John was using the former SEAL's own words against him, and loving every moment of it.
Fitzpatrick, however, was unamused. "Enough, Sheppard. It's time to tell me what happened."
John, realizing he could stall no longer, let his mind drift back to the past...
"Colonel Sheppard?" John was pulled from his concentration by a voice in his ear that nearly startled him. "Are you there?"
It had been quiet on the comms for a while now. Everyone was trying to give him the space he needed to concentrate on flying Atlantis back to the Milky Way. Fresh from the loss of Ronon and Teyla on the Super Hive, nerves were frayed all around, and chatter had been kept to a minimum. Now that John was about to drop the city out of hyperspace, Woolsey had come back on over the comms.
John drew in a breath. "Yes, I'm here."
Flying the ship while trying not to fall apart over the loss of his friends was taking its toll. Not to mention taxing his already depleted reserves. He'd only ever been in the control chair when the city had been at half power. Now that they were nearly full capacity… well, there was so much more to her than John had ever realized. No wonder Carson hadn't been able to handle it.
"I've just received word from Earth and it's not good," Woolsey went on in his ear. "They'll need us to go in with everything we've got as soon as we drop out of hyperspace. Understood?"
"I read you loud and clear, Mr. Woolsey. Sheppard out."
His reply was terse but the voice in his ear stayed mercifully silent. John nearly took the little comms device out of his ear all the same as he tried to focus in on flying the city again. After Ronon and Teyla… well, he wasn't really interested in talking to anyone. Everybody seemed to get that, for the most part anyway.
Atlantis was already relaying John readings of the battle raging between the Hives, Area 51 and the recently arrived Daedalus and Apollo. He familiarized himself as best he could with the feel of the Earth ships and their F302s. He would need to be careful if he wanted to avoid hitting any of them when Atlantis finally dropped out of hyperspace and he began the attack. The Wraith Hive ships were everywhere and John was worried Atlantis might not have the firepower needed to destroy them all. The expedition had one advantage though, the Wraith had no idea they were coming. So maybe, just maybe, John could pull all this off before those bastards started culling and things got complicated... Or at the very least, inflict enough damage to somehow make up for the fact that his friend's corpses had been on the last Hive ship he'd destroyed.
John fought back against the grief that suddenly swelled up around him. Ronon and Teyla… How was John ever going to explain to Torren John what had been done to his mother?
"We're about ready for you to drop us out of hyperspace, Sir," one of the techs in the room let him know and John nodded solemnly from his reclined position in the chair.
This was it, the moment of truth for the human race, and one John couldn't afford to fuck up. If he did, if even one of those Hives was allowed to get away, then they would limp back to Pegasus to gather reinforcements. The Hive would alert any remaining Wraith that hadn't received the subspace transmission to Earth's location, and that would be the end of it. Atlantis wouldn't have the element of surprise any longer and having the ancient city on Earth might not be enough to deter any remaining Wraith from returning to its fertile feeding grounds. The people of the Milky Way galaxy had enough to worry about without adding the possibility of a hostile alien race returning to try and make a meal of them again.
"We're nearly there. On my mark, Sir," the tech said again, and John almost asked why the unknown scientist was giving him directions instead of McKay. Rodney, he figured, was probably still reeling from the fact that they'd just lost Ronon and Teyla.
But there was no time to linger on regret, and a moment later, John halted Atlantis' path through the stars and coasted her expertly out through the hyperspace window he could picture opening in his mind as he deposited them into the thick of a heated battle.
Piloting Atlantis was a strange mix of sensation and instinct. It felt a bit like sitting in the middle of a huge, empty stadium while the game was being projected up on the jumbotron. Only all of it was happening inside his head. On the periphery were the confused jumble of Atlantis' systems that were constantly in flux and flowing around him like a crowd of crazed fans.
The Daedalus was in trouble. He could sense that almost immediately through his connection with Atlantis and Woolsey's voice filled his ear.
"Fire! Fire! Fire on all Hives!" he cried, "Bring them all down!" and John was all too happy to comply.
Focusing all his efforts on the battle playing out in his mind, John went after the Hives targeting the Daedalus first. The 304 Class vessel was defending herself as best she could, Asgard weapons cutting through the Wraith fighters swarming her, but she wasn't really targeting the larger Hives. John nearly hailed Woolsey to ask why, but his mind was pulled in another direction before he could.
The Wraith had begun pummeling the city's shields with everything they had. Carson came to his rescue a moment later, filling the space above Earth with an impossible number of drones. That particular problem solved for the moment, John was able to focus his attention back on the Daedalus. The vessel was severely damaged but managed to somehow limp its way out of the thick of things as John maneuvered the city between the advancing hordes and the retreating ship in the nick of time.
Daedalus safely shielded behind the city for the moment, John began a ruthless attack on the surrounding Hives, targeting hyperdrives first before Carson finished them off with a barrage of drones. As each one disintegrated into nothingness against the glowing blue backdrop of Earth, John voiced a name in his head. Ronon, then Teyla, then every other person he could recall losing to the vampiric scourge that was the Wraith.
The sheer tactical advantage Atlantis provided was keenly felt as Carson and John ripped apart the skies. John could sense the exact moment the Wraith realized they were about to be obliterated and turned to run. He relished the feeling as he destroyed their hyperdrives one after the other to leave them floating vulnerable in the vacuum of space as Carson finished them off with a volley from Earth below.
They were doing it. They were actually fucking doing it! And John nearly whooped as the last Hive finally broke apart under their combined efforts.
Cheers erupted in the control chair room and John was surprised that the comms device in his ear stayed quiet. Woolsey wasn't even there congratulating him on his victory. Not that he needed the praise. Seeing those bastards get wiped out was all the reward John needed.
As the celebration continued in the chair room, John sent up a silent prayer for the friends that had lost their lives to get them to this moment. Ronon and Teyla had been avenged, but his celebration was cut short a moment later when he sensed some danger approaching Earth.
A Hive, half blasted apart but still managing to limp forward somehow, was entering Earth's atmosphere. John wasn't sure if it was some last desperate attempt by the dying Wraith inside, or just the result of the planet's gravity pulling the disabled Hive in. Whatever the case, a ship of that size could do some serious damage if it was allowed to fall to Earth, and John wasn't about to let the Wraith have the last word. He eased Atlantis forward into the atmosphere to give chase, hanging back to see if the exosphere would just break the damaged ship apart for him. It was already starting to, but thoughts of dead friends had him sending out a drone or two just for good measure. He watched on in satisfaction as they impacted the hull of the ship and the Hive broke apart.
John was just about to maneuver the city out of Earth's orbit when someone burst into the room.
"John! Stop!"
He looked over at his friend, confused. Rodney never used his real name.
"John, you've got to stop!" the scientist repeated, running over to his side.
"McKay, relax. It's over. The last..."
"No, you don't understand!" Rodney was trying to pull John right out of the chair.
"What the hell, Rodney?"
"You have to stop! There are people on those ships!"
"What?" It was a joke, right? It had to be. "what in the hell are you talking about?"
But before Rodney could answer, Carson Beckett pushed himself into the room and sealed the door behind him. It was just in time to stop the group of advancing Marines that were hot on his heels. Their angry fists could be heard pounding against the heavy door a moment later.
"What the fuck is going on? And how the hell are you here, Carson?"
John deactivated the chair and sat up. The techs in the room watched on nervously from behind their instrument panels.
"John, have you destroyed all the Hives?" Carson asked him, coming up on the little elevated platform to capture both of John's shoulders in his hands as Rodney stepped aside. There was a look of terror in the doctor's eyes John had never seen before.
"This is very important, lad!" Carson all but screamed in his face, shaking John as he stared at his friend, speechless. He'd never, in all his years of knowing Carson Beckett, ever seen the physician behave like this.
"Yeah, Beckett," John answered defensively. "You and I just blasted the last of them out of the sky a few minutes ago. Or at least I assumed that was you! What the hell is going on?"
"John, the Wraith have been here for days! We've been trying to tell you as much since you got back. They started culling, lad," Carson tried to explain to him, gripping the sides of John's arms so tightly, John knew there would be bruises. "Those Hives were full of people!"
A cold, clawed hand ran up the back of John's spine as his heart very nearly came to a stop in his chest. He blinked back stupidly between Carson and Rodney, trying to discern from their faces if this was all supposed to be some stupid, cosmic joke.
But Rodney and Carson were not joking, and John suddenly lost the ability to breathe.
The very air was sucked from the room as John gripped the armrests of the control chair.
"How many?" he asked with a voice he barely recognized.
"Too many to count," Carson replied, his own voice cracking.
"Sir?"
One of the techs had come over beside them and Carson's hands fell away from John's arms. His skin still stung, the bruises from Carson's fingers already forming. John looked straight ahead, eyes seeing nothing as he forced his brain to inspect this odd thing that Carson had just given him. This weird little piece of information he couldn't quite get himself to comprehend. All he knew was that it was enormous, and 100% his fault.
"Colonel Sheppard? We're losing altitude, Sir. We need you to re-engage thrusters."
But John barely heard the words.
The hives had been on Earth for days. They had begun culling. And the Daedalus knew. That's why they hadn't been firing on the Hives, just the Darts attacking them.
They knew.
...But no one had bothered to tell John.
"He told me to fire…" John stammered, not really caring if the words had actually come out or if he just said them in his head.
"Colonel Sheppard, please! We need you to take control of the city. She's losing altitude."
John turned towards the tech addressing him. "Woolsey didn't tell me."
"Sir?"
John turned his eyes back to Carson who was staring at the floor as his shoulders shook.
"You're lying," John forced out. "Tell me you're lying Carson because if you're not then that means I just murdered every single human being aboard those ships."
Carson raised red-rimmed eyes to meet John's heated gaze. A lone tear snaked its way down his cheek. "I can't tell you that."
"It's a lie!" John bellowed, getting up from the control chair and turning towards Carson. The doctor stumbled back a few paces in surprise and then recovered.
"I'm so very sorry, laddie, but it's not. I tried ta get back to the city to warn you," Carson's brogue was almost too thick to understand, "But we couldnea get through on the comms. Landry is dead and the IOA has apparently gone mad."
A blast at the door behind Rodney and Carson rocked the room as if proving the point and everyone inside gasped. Woolsey was saying something in John's ear but he just plucked the comms device out and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot.
"Colonel Sheppard, please! If you don't take back control of the city soon, we're going to crash!"
John's tech was back, tugging him back towards the chair. John pulled his eyes away from the devastated faces of Rodney and Carson to stare at the young man. He didn't even know the kids name…
Well, that ended today. John was going to find out all of their names. Every single one of those he let die. He would seek them out and brand each one on his heart so he could carry them with him forever.
Murderer. That was what they would call him now. Not Colonel. Not Sheppard. Not Guide . He'd taken the lives of millions of people, and that was just a guess. No one could even give him a number yet. John could feel the hands of the dead reaching out to him. A million voices all calling out to him for rescue, just like Ronon and Teyla had.
Something big and ragged opened up inside John's chest, spilling bits and pieces of him all over the control chair room floor. He bent forward under the weight of it, trying to wrap his arms around his middle to help keep at least some of it inside.
"Atlantis, Sir! Please! You're going to kill us all, too!" someone begged him on a sob. It was probably the only thing that could have reached him at that moment.
"He's right, Sheppard," Rodney said from behind the console he was checking. "We're going to crash unless you get the city back under control."
Hands pushed him back towards the chair and John let them.
Someone grabbed his wrists and forced his palms down onto the pads. John let them.
The city instantly reconnected with his mind and warned of the impending impact. They were over the San Francisco Bay and falling fast. With his friends screaming at him to stop their descent towards the bay, John focused what little sanity he had left and tried to coast her into the water.
For a few breathless seconds, it looked like he just might do it. But the city had taken on a lot of damage. A few thrusters gave out just seconds before John could settle her softly into the bay.
"Brace for impact!" somebody screamed as Atlantis dropped from the sky like a stone, tossing John from the chair as if he were nothing but a ragdoll.
Screams and smoke filled the air as stress fractures appeared on the walls and debris began raining down around them. But it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. John had slowed their descent considerably and the inertial dampeners had done their jobs.
Sparks were issuing from nearly every workstation as people began to recover and pull themselves back up off the floor.
John had been launched across the room and it took a few minutes for awareness to seep back in. All around him alarms clanged and people called out for help. An electrical fire had sprung up in the console he'd been thrown against and John scrambled away from it quickly. He pulled an unconscious tech away with him just as the entire thing exploded in a shower of sparks.
"Rodney?" he called out. The lights above sputtered for a second or two and then went out entirely as the city lost power. The small fires and electrical sparks from the busted panels still managed to illuminate the room.
John tried to shake some of the cobwebs away from his brain as he pulled himself up onto his unsteady legs.
"Carson?"
But calling out just made him cough hard on the smoke invading his lungs. Something stung at his side as well, making his eyes water from the pain. John just pressed a hand over the source and tried to ignore it. He could worry about smoke inhalation and possible injury later. He needed to find Rodney and Carson and make sure they were okay.
John made his way across the room, tripping and groping as best he could in the flickering semi-darkness. He finally spotted Rodney and Carson huddled near the door to the control room, trying to pry it open. Just as John reached them, they finally managed it.
"You guys okay?" he asked around a cough as they all backed up and several unconscious Marines tumbled into the doorway. Carson bent to check pulses.
"What do you think?" Rodney rounded on John, panic evident on the astrophysicist's soot-covered face. "You just crashed landed the city into the San Francisco bay!"
"Not helping, Rodney!" Carson jumped in before McKay could say more and John broke a little under the look the scientist gave him next. Fuck, this was all his fault.
"We're okay, John," Carson promised, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Aren't we, Rodney?" But the scientist just looked away, still angry. "I said, aren't we, Rodney!" Carson repeated and Rodney finally offered a terse nod back.
"And you, laddie?" Carson had to ask loudly to be heard over the alarms. He grabbed at the hand John was using to cover his midsection. His palm came away soot covered and bloody.
"It's nothing," John said quickly. They didn't have time for this. They needed to get out to the jumper bay and start getting people out of the city. Carson would be needed for triage.
Ignoring him completely, Carson lifted the hem of his shirt to have a look. John stopped him with a hand around the wrist.
"We need to get to the Gateroom!" he yelled over the alarms still clanging away in a cacophony of sound so loud and dissonant he almost wanted to put his hands over his ears to make it stop, "You know the drill. Lord knows I've put you all through enough of them!"
Carson gave him a reproachful look.
"I'm fine, Carson! I promise, but we need to report to the Gateroom!"
"He's right, Carson," Rodney chimed in, apparently ready to put his anger at John aside and help with the problem at hand. "We need to go."
Carson pulled his wrist out of John's grasp. "There are people here who need me."
"As far as I'm concerned, you're acting medical director right now. Or at least until we find Jennifer. If something has happened to her, they're going to need you in the Gateroom."
This information finally seemed to resonate with the doctor. He nodded, though it appeared to physically pain him to do so.
The halls of Atlantis were teeming with the injured and trapped as the three men made their way to the Gateroom. They constantly had to halt their progress to stop and help someone pull free of a collapsed bit of equipment or track down more hands to help move those they came across who couldn't walk. It was slow, arduous work but eventually, they reached the wrecked and ragged Gateroom and spied a familiar figure walking aimlessly through the debris.
Their fearless leader had a cut on his forehead that was bleeding profusely. The blood had even started soaking into the front of his uniform.
Richard Woolsey was alone amid the wreckage and staring out over the calm waters of the San Francisco bay through broken windows. When he heard them approach, Woolsey turned, and his eyes immediately landed on John. Like something out of a movie, the alarms still clanging above their heads ceased the exact moment their gazes met.
For a while in the corridor, John had imagined that Woolsey had just been a pawn. That he'd had no real knowledge of the fact that the Wraith had begun culling Earth before Atlantis arrived, but the look on the man's face as he turned said it all. Richard Woolsey knew exactly what he had just ordered John to do.
"Colonel Sheppard..." he started but John put up a blackened hand to stop him.
"What did you do, Woolsey?" he asked dangerously, his voice going low. Rodney and Carson shifted nervously beside him.
"We had no choice," Woolsey answered, wringing his hands.
"You're gonna have to do a hell of a lot better than that," John said, taking a step forward. Had he been in control of all his faculties, he probably would have tackled the guy right then and there. Beaten him into unconsciousness with his own two fists. Right there in the middle of their ruined Gateroom.
The one thing that saved Richard Woolsey that day was the fact that John Sheppard was an exhausted, grieving mess. And the fact Rodney and Carson stopped him from going much further with hands on either of his shoulders. Wolsey immediately fell into a crouch, throwing up his arms to protect his head and neck when he thought John really was coming for him.
"We don't have time for this," Rodney pleaded with him. "There are people out there who need our help right now. We can deal with Woolsey later. I promise. We'll get what we need from the city and make every single one of them pay."
Rodney increased his grip as John struggled to throw them off.
"Come on, think about it for a second! Another day, when we're ready for it and you're not in danger of murdering someone in cold blood right here in the Gateroom! Enough people have died today."
"He's right, laddie," Carson added.
John let all the fight drain right out of him. Everything Rodney had just said was true. He had murdered enough people today.
John looked over at Rodney. He wasn't expecting to see calm kindness behind his friend's eyes, not after how Rodney had reacted back in the control chair room. Yet there it was.
"There he is," the scientist said quietly, his grip on John's shoulder lessening. "Now here's what we're going to do. Carson is going to take you over to the puddle jumper bay to help with the evacuations. I'm going to stay here and try to restore power. I'll get us some insurance for the shitstorm we all know is coming while I'm at it."
John just blinked. When had their roles suddenly reversed? In what universe was Rodney McKay the cool, centered one while John went off like a firecracker with no regard for who might get singed when he went off.
"Dare I say it," Carson piped up again, "but Rodney's plan is a good one. We've got bigger problems to deal with right now than this coward ." Carson practically spat the word in Woolsey's direction.
John let his eyes settle back on the man in question, who was actually starting to snivel. Woolsey had risen up onto his knees and had his hands clasped in front of him as if he were getting ready to pray. Rodney and Carson's hands were back on John's shoulders in an instant.
"It's alright," he promised, looking at them both in turn. "I'm not going to do anything to him."
Rodney and Carson seemed to believe him and let their hands drop away again.
John took a step forward, meeting Wolsey at the direct center of their shared, mutual destruction. As soon as Wolsey saw the look on John's face, he shrank to a quivering ball on the floor.
"If I ever see your face again," John said, his voice dark as he kneeled down beside a man he had once respected, ignoring the pull of pain at his side, "I will kill you. And that goes for every other member of the IOA who decided that it was better to murder our own people today than try and come up with a better solution.
"You lied to me, you son of a bitch, and I will never forgive you for what happened here today." John leaned in closer. "Never."
Woosley brought hands up to cover his face.
"The world is going to know exactly what you did, what every single one of you assholes made me do..." John nearly choked on the words. "...and I won't rest until you all hang. I can promise you that."
John stood up, looking down on the simpering man at his feet. Woolsey was openly sobbing now. John turned away from the pitiful display and let the sounds of that weeping man disappear behind him as he left the tattered remains of the Gateroom. When he reached the hallway, John stopped to rest a hand against a nearby wall for support. His entire body was shaking.
Something primal ripped from John's throat. A sound he'd never really heard himself make before. Well, maybe once that day after his mother died. The corners of his eyes burned with his own unshed tears, but John wouldn't let them come. There would be time enough for tears later when he actually let himself stop and acknowledge the full weight of what had just been done…
Were there millions? Billions?
John let his head fall.
It hadn't been done consciously or with malice, but he had been responsible for mass murder on a global scale today and all he could ask was why ? Why hadn't anyone stopped him? Why had Woolsey ordered him to fire? With one word that supposed leader of Atlantis could have stopped it all, but he hadn't. The system worked because they trusted each other and John had put his faith in that man, given him his absolute loyalty, and had been utterly betrayed in the process.
Betrayal. The word sat dark and heavy on his tongue.
John pulled his hand away from the wall to form it into a fist. Without thinking, he slammed that same fist into the metal panel in front of him with all the force of his anger. Knuckles cracked. Pain exploded out of his hand and John let out another bellow that finally hollowed him out. Rodney and Carson rushed over as John put his palms against the wall and tried to reteach his lungs how to breathe.
"John, you must keep it together now, lad," Carson pleaded beside him. "We cannot do this without ya!"
John was about to come apart at the seams but Carson's desperate pleas for help seemed to be what he needed to pull the threads in tight again. Carson was right, just like Rodney had been. There wasn't time to think about what he had just been betrayed into doing. The members of the Atlantis team were in this mess because of him and he needed to pull himself back together and help them get out of it again.
"Alright," John said as he pushed himself away from the wall. "Rodney, I lost my earpiece so you're gonna need to see if you can reach Lorne about any issues you find with the city that need immediate attention. Once Carson and I get to the jumper bay, I can hopefully find replacement comms. Gather whatever you can on what happened and who might be responsible. I have a feeling this might be the only chance we get to do some digging around. Especially once the cavalry shows up and people start trying to sabotage things."
"You really think they would do something like that?" Carson asked, eyes wide.
"After what they just made me do with those Hives? Yes. I think we should assume those orders did not come from anyone in charge."
"What makes you think that?" Rodney asked.
"It's just this feeling I've got," John replied. "There was a reason Woolsey cut me off from all radio communication. Something's going on here we just don't see yet." Carson visibly shuddered beside John.
"Once you're done, we can rendezvous and put together a game plan going forward." There. That was better. John felt in charge again.
"Sounds good," both of his friends said at once, marshaling at his side in an instant. It almost made John smile.
They were all beat to hell. A red slash was painted down Rodney's face from a head wound hidden just beyond his receding hairline. Carson was trying unsuccessfully to hide a limp and was protecting his ribs with a hand. They were each covered head to toe in grey soot from the fires that had broken out all over the city after the crash as well. But they were alive. The ragged remnants of a once proud and powerful team, maybe, but ready to dive headfirst into yet another fight. Even the ever-pessimistic Rodney McKay was looking over at John with his jaw set squarely in determination.
There were no two people in all the world John Sheppard would have rather had by his side at that moment than the two men standing before him now. If only Ronon and Teyla could have been with them.
"Let's meet by the east pier in an hour. Will that give you enough time Rodney?" John asked when he finally found his voice again.
The scientist's baleful eyes met his, "Of course it's enough time."
John should have figured. "Alright then. Let's go, Carson."
Their small group broke apart but John stopped one last time before following Carson off down the hall.
"Rodney," he called out. The scientist turned and John felt something strange constrict his ribcage. There was still so much they hadn't said to each other about… certain things that had recently been admitted. John felt like it needed some kind of acknowledgment then, seeing as how some tiny instinct inside kept suggesting to him that this was the last time he would be seeing his friend for a while. It was a confusing feeling considering they'd just agreed to meet up again in an hour on the east pier.
John realized he'd let several silent seconds go by. Carson was hanging out at the end of the hall waiting for him. The moment deserved something more, but all he could seem to come up with was, "Good luck. And please try to be careful."
Rodney gave him a small half-smile. "I'm always careful, Sheppard."
Something twinged again as John watched Rodney walk away. That feeling was back, urging him to draw his friend in close before he was lost forever. But John just pushed the feeling aside and made himself head off down the corridor and towards Carson.
It wasn't long before the two men came upon another medical emergency that Carson could not walk away from this time.
"I'll follow along shortly," the doctor promised as they neared a terrified group of scientists trying desperately to free one of their colleagues from beneath a huge pile of crumbling rock.
"We should stick together," John argued, even though he knew it was pointless.
"I'm needed here," Carson replied gently, pushing him further down the hall. "Just as you are needed in the jumper bay."
"East pier, one hour," John repeated seriously as he allowed Carson to keep pushing him.
"Aye, laddie, the east pier."
John forced himself to leave, cursing the fact that he'd destroyed his comms. It would have kept him in touch with his friends even after they were forced to separate. Replacing it would be his first priority once he reached the jumper bay.
The massive room where the puddle jumpers were all kept was the place to be, apparently. John stumbled in through the automatic doors a few minutes later, supporting an injured civilian on one arm, to find it a hive of frenetic activity. The disaster plan John himself had put into place was being followed to the letter, and he took it all in with a proud smile.
The disaster plan dictated that all wounded be brought to the bay to be removed by jumper if the Gateroom was inaccessible. John was glad to see the sure signs of ordered movement amidst all the chaos. He'd trained his men well and while the scientists flung themselves about in a panic, he could sense the calm undercurrent of his men keeping everything from falling apart.
John delivered his injured civilian into the waiting hands of a medic just as Evan Lorne bounded up to greet him.
"Colonel Sheppard, thank god. We've been trying to reach you for over an hour!"
"I know, my comms are down. Can someone find me a replacement?"
Lorne bowed his head to speak to someone on his own comms. "It's on the way."
John headed deeper into the jumper bay. "What's the status, Major?"
Lorne was suddenly all business. "No casualties to report that we've been informed of so far, Sir. We've got mostly bumps and bruises though there are a few critical."
"Are we evacuating them first?"
"Already on it, Sir. Jumper One is evacuating some to the mainland as we speak. We called everybody with the ATA gene in to help."
"What about the SGC. Have they been notified?"
"They have, Sir. When I couldn't hail you or Mr. Woolsey on the comms, I took the liberty of contacting them myself. I've been assured help is on the way."
"Good work, Major," John said. "I need you to keep coordinating the rescue efforts. I want all the wounded secured first then we can start evacuating all nonessential personnel after that."
"Very good, Sir," Lorne said as he gave John a stiff salute before leaving. John returned it automatically, but the Major had already turned away. Evan Lorne was one of those rare soldiers who actually got better under pressure, if that was even possible. John was going to have to remember to thank the man for keeping a level head and getting the job done when he couldn't reach anyone. It was the kind of act that warranted accommodation.
As John made his way around the room assessing the progress, several people approached him. They were his men mostly, looking for direction or to ask him a question. John had a comms device back in his ear and barked out orders as he thought of them. It wasn't often that John had to fall into full-on Commando Mode as Rodney liked to call it. Today he had to, if only to keep his mind occupied as he walked past the soot-covered faces of the men and women waiting around to be evacuated.
"Let's set up a command post just inside the bay doors," John said to Lorne once they got word from the mainland that a temporary hospital was being set up to triage their wounded. "Someone needs to start compiling a list of names and where we're sending the wounded. When families start calling, I want to be able to tell them exactly where their kids are."
"I'm on it, Sir," Lorne said in his ear.
John clicked off again and tried to ignore the way his chest kept trying to tighten up on him the more he thought about what was happening. They were evacuating the city because of something John had done. He was personally responsible for all of this. He was the one who had let Atlantis crash into the bay. All because he couldn't get his damn mind to focus. And none of them knew. Not even Lorne. He'd given them no warning. This was all on John.
How had it come to this? How in the world had they ever been allowed to get to this particular moment?
Woolsey, his brain provided. Woolsey must have cut him off from radio communication. That was the only explanation John could come up with for why no one had been screaming at him about the Hive ships stuffed full of human beings that he was blasting out of the sky.
John shook his head, trying to stop the intrusive thoughts. He needed to keep his head on straight if he was going to get everyone out of this alive. Once that was done then he could focus on getting to the bottom of what Woolsey had done and why. Just like Rodney had suggested back in the Gateroom, then they would find out how much damage had been done and then begin the process of rebuilding. That was his duty. The way he began to atone for his sins, and the evil the IOA had forced him to do.
But there were people on those hives, his mutinous brain reminded him. You murdered them. They never stood a chance. You should help these people and then run, because they're going to throw you in a prison cell for the rest of your life for what you've done. The IOA will make sure of that. You'll rot in there and then you'll rot in hell for what you did.
John ran a shaky hand through his hair.
You failed them. Every single one of them. And don't forget Teyla and Ronon. What must they think of you now? ...Oh that's right, they can't think, because they're both dead. And it's all thanks to you. Your men, all these people, they're all going to blame. The IOA will parade you in front of the cameras and lay it all on you. Your career is over. And you know what, it should be. You're a murderer now, John Sheppard.
John grabbed the sides of his head as he began to hyperventilate. He was normally so calm in situations like these, but the people in the hives had pushed him over the edge. In his panic, he nearly missed a tiny voice calling out to him. For a moment he just assumed it was that voice inside his head again. A beat later he realized it was very real.
"Colonel Sheppard! Colonel Sheppard, please! Are you there? Do you read?"
"Go ahead for Sheppard," he somehow managed to force out.
"Oh Colonel, thank god! We need you in the control chair room immediately," Radek Zelenka begged him over the comms.
"What's up?"
"One of Atlantis' thrusters is malfunctioning. We are having great difficulty getting it to turn off. I fear the city may explode if we don't get it under control immediately."
"I'm kind of busy in the jumper bay at the moment, Zelenka. Is there no one else who can help you?"
"All of the gene carriers have been called to the jumper bay to assist with the evacuations. If we don't stop this within the next ten minutes, the blast wave will be large enough to take out half of San Francisco!"
"Go, boss," Lorne said in his ear after Zelenka had finished. "We've got everything covered here."
"I'm on my way, Radek," John said, taking off towards the control chair room.
"Anyone on comms with the gene close enough to the chair room to help in case I can't get there in time?" he asked as he ran.
"I am, sir, but I'm pretty far away," someone said and John was pretty sure he recognized Sargeant Stackhouse's voice.
"Head over there anyway. Hopefully one of us makes it in time."
"On my way, Sir."
John double-timed it, tripping over debris as he ran down darkened halls. He made it there before Stackhouse.
Zelenka was standing over the smoking remains of a workstation just inside the door and muttering irritably under his breath in his native tongue.
"What can I do?" John asked, breathless and panting.
"Divert all power away from the thrusters."
"Have you been in touch with Rodney?" John asked as he put his hand directly on the console Zelenka was pointing at. The scientist quickly moved off to another. "He was in the Gateroom last time I saw him."
"Who do you think sent me over here?" Zelenka snapped moving farther into the room.
But before John could even open his mouth to speak again, a massive explosion ripped through the center of the control chair room floor. The force of the blast sent John hurtling backwards and directly into the wall behind him. His head impacted with it heavily as bright white lights exploded in front of his eyes. The left side of his body went numb as John crumpled to the floor.
Somehow, and he would always wonder how he managed to pull it off, John remained conscious as he was forced to watch the center of the room collapse inward. Listen to the screams of Zelenka and his team as they were swallowed up by the gaping hole left behind. John cried out and reached, trying desperately to pull his unresponsive body away from the wall so he could grab at the hands scrabbling for hold on the tilting floor. But something white-hot and greedy stole the breath right out of him and John closed his eyes in defeat as the hands fell away and everyone disappeared.
Someone bounded into the room soon after, but all John could see from his place on the floor was a pair of black combat boots the figure wore.
"Oh shit! Oh fuck!" Stackhouse swore as he fell to his knees beside John. "Colonel Sheppard? Can you hear me?" Hands reached out, touching him gently, reigniting the fire on the left side of his body.
"Major Lorne, Lieutenant Stackhouse here. That explosion came from the control chair room, Sir. Colonel Sheppard is injured."
John made his tired eyes look up at the young soldier kneeling beside him in full combat gear. Did he just say injured? John figured that made sense.
Stackhouse held his gaze for a second or two before turning away to whisper something into his comms again. John's wasn't working again, but he still heard what Stackhouse said next. "It's bad, Sir."
The world slid out of focus as John felt the air in his lungs catch and then stop altogether.
Near-death experiences were nothing new to him. He'd taken a step or two right up to the end of the line countless times before, but never like this. He'd never been conscious enough to feel it when a mouth covered his and started forcing air into his lungs. Never been aware enough to realize hands were pushing down on his sternum and trying to get his poor heart to restart.
John put every last bit of himself into not dying, and after a few unknowable minutes when he'd nearly lost the battle, he somehow managed to pull in a heaving breath. He sputtered and coughed as those shriveled little things he used to call lungs actually obeyed the order to fill. The hands that had been giving him CPR stopped as Stackhouse helped him to roll over.
The pain the movement ignited in his side was unimaginable, but John didn't let it carry him away into oblivion. He held onto it and forced his tired eyes to open. Half his line of sight had been invaded by black dots but he could still make out Stackhouse leaning over him. The young Marine looked worried as he clamped a hand down hard on John's leg. The world seemed to dip in and out of focus. He tried desperately to get away from the pain, but Stackhouse just shushed him.
"Colonel Sheppard, hush. You must lie still, Sir. You're badly injured."
"Zelenka?" John somehow managed to choke out.
"I don't see him, Sir," the young man replied, his sweaty face grave. "I'm sorry."
"Need you... I need you to do me a favor... Stackhouse," he heaved, oxygen becoming more and more difficult to pull in as his body prepared to shut itself back down again. The young Lieutenant's eyes went wide.
"Help's on the way, Colonel. Please don't try to talk."
But John had things to say. Things that other people needed to know.
"There were..." he swallowed back something metallic and tried again. "There were ... people on th-those Hives," he managed and Stackhouse's eyes careened away from John's wounds and back to his face to stare at him thunderstruck. "Make sure... people know."
"I… I will. Sir," the young Lieutenant stammered.
"I'm sorry..." But John couldn't go on anymore. He let the tension go out of his body just as Carson Beckett arrived with a team of EMTs.
"Out of the way," Carson ordered, and Stackhouse immediately obeyed. John forced his eyes open again to look up at his friend.
"Bloody hell," was all he could say.
Time had a funny way of flowing over John after that. He watched the rest of it play out as if he were sitting in the audience of a performance. The characters were familiar, but John could not get his brain to focus on any one thing long enough to figure it all out. There was a pinprick of pain at his elbow and then numbness as something else took over him entirely.
He was lying on the floor in the chair room, that much he knew. He also knew he had nothing left to fight with against the realizations that came at him in the confusing calm of the pain meds.
With no purpose, no task to complete and occupy his mind... that was when it began to creep in again: that little voice from before.
You killed them all.
You crashed the city and now more people are going to die.
You couldn't save any of them.
"Colonel Sheppard?" Carson's face swam into focus. "John?"
He'd lost track of time. He was on a gurney outside, heading down one of the city's long piers and towards the helicopter that was parked at the end of it. Carson was clutching at his hand tightly.
"Stay with us now, lad," he pleaded.
"Rodney?" he rasped from behind an oxygen mask someone had put over his face.
"He's fine, John. But I need you to listen to me very carefully. Are you listening?" Carson asked him as they neared the swirling blades of the Medevac helicopter and the EMTs left them for a moment. John pulled his wandering gaze away from the memorizing swirl of the blades and tried to focus on his friend.
"Now you must listen to me, laddie. This is very important," Carson pleaded again and John tried to clear his cotton-filled thoughts enough to absorb what he was being told.
"These nice young lads are going to take you to a separate trauma center. Rodney picked up some chatter at the IOA is already trying to cover this up. He gave me this thumb drive." Something cold was pressed into John's hand. "Protect it at all costs, John. People's lives may very well depend on it."
The EMTs were back and John's gurney was rolling forward again.
"Hold on John," Carson called out as they began loading him into the back of the helicopter. "You keep fighting until I get there, you hear me?"
"We have to go now, Sir," one of the EMTs was saying. Carson was blocking the door.
"Do not take him to the field hospital in San Francisco. Is that clear?"
John was fading again and it felt like he was trying to listen to their conversation through a wind tunnel.
"We've got it, Sir. We'll take him over the bay to Berkley."
"That's good," Carson said, nodding. He turned back to John. "Remember what I told ya, laddie. Hold on. Keep fighting. We'll join you there as soon as we can."
John clutched the hand still holding the thumb drive to his chest and nodded. But he paid for the movement with a wave of pain that took his breath away. Monitors began to beep and alarms squawked as the EMTs began working over John feverishly.
"Let's go!" one shouted as Carson stumbled backward and out of the way of the slamming door.
John turned his head, catching sight of Carson in the window. His friend had his hands pressing against the glass, worry etched so deeply into his face, John wondered how he would ever get it off again.
For the second time that day, John Sheppard got a funny feeling that he would not be seeing his friends again for a very long time.
How very right he turned out to be.