It was a strange thing, coming back from the dead. A little like floating and a lot like trying to get into an unsteady boat from a stationary dock. He flitted in and out of consciousness for a time and his lucid moments were always brief, though he did manage to retain bits of them from time to time. He could remember choking around some invasive object in his throat. He could recall hearing Rodney call out to him and had vague memories of Carrie holding his hand. But most of it was just a rolling jumble of muddled chaos inside his head. A mess that only made his head ache when he tried to make sense of it.
John existed in that strange, in-between world for a long time just trying to find the scattered pieces of himself. To form them back into consciousness and coherent thought. He'd gone through the process before, but this time it felt bigger, like he'd taken a larger step up to that serrated edge of oblivion than he had any other time before.
Like back in the SGC infirmary, John spent a lot of time dreaming. Not nightmares, per se, but whatever one might call the strange dreams that came to him as his brain tried to make sense of everything that had happened to him.
Of all the disjointed thoughts and broken memories floating around in his brain, John could remember the light most of all. It was everywhere, soaking into every strange dreamscape he visited. He knew he'd died. Of that he was certain. Teyla and Ronon seated beside him with his mother hovering just out of sight had told him that much at least. But Rodney had been there too, so John knew that he hadn't stayed dead at least.
It was Rodney's face that flitted in and out of the chaos in his mind. Rodney's presence that he used as the cornerstone of the structures he was building with the scattered remnants of himself. The ones he hoped, if he built high enough, would help him to wake up and see that man's face for himself. Rodney, his confidant, and closest friend.
As John had discovered one summer when he took a job with a construction crew building a new subdivision near his house, construction was a difficult process. It took long days of back breaking work. Things always took longer than promised and someone always paid more than they wanted to. But in the end, there was no denying the finished product was something to be admired. Especially if the ones doing the building had put their hearts and souls into the work.
John had quite literally put his heart and soul into rebuilding himself and was rewarded one day with the ability to pull himself up out of his dreams and finally open his eyes.
John awoke to a darkened room and the sight of Rodney sitting in a chair beside his bed. Light flashed at the window, and for a moment, John wondered if that light from his dreams was back again. The rumble of thunder that came a few seconds later told him that wasn't the case.
"R-Rodney?" he somehow managed, his voice hoarse from disuse. It ached in a way that told him he'd spent considerable amounts of time on a ventilator. He could recall vague memories of choking on the tubing in one of his first moments of consciousness. His mouth was bone dry and nothing he tried seemed to soothe it.
"Welcome back, you idiot," Rodney said.
When John looked back over at him he clarified. "You're in the infirmary. Atlantis, not the SGC."
John was glad of it. He could feel his city all around him again. He even reached out to try and turn the lights down in his room, but the mere effort it took just to connect had him nearly passing out again. He abandoned the idea a moment later as Rodney held a straw up to his parched lips.
They talked some after that. Or rather Rodney did all the talking as John threw in questions from time to time, each one costing him a day's worth of energy just to form the words. John retained little of their conversation and was soon pulled back into sleep. He didn't mind this time. He knew now everyone was safe, even if he didn't necessarily remember Rodney telling him so. He didn't even dream this time.
The fight to stay awake for longer and longer periods of time became a kind of mission for John. He could tell he was still incredibly ill. The doctors who flitted about nervously and the around-the-clock care from his nurses told him as much. His favorite lucid moments were the ones when he awoke to find only one person in his room and seated in the chair beside his bed. He liked these times the most because his visitors seemed to be a lot more chatty when no one else was around. They tended to be more open and honest with him, too. If he ever expected to be able to put together an adequate picture of what really happened, he was going to need that.
And, well, it was also kind of nice to wake up and have someone sitting there that he trusted. That he knew cared about him and was just as happy to see him awake as he was to talk to them. Carson was the best surprise so far. Last time John had seen him, he was in a coma. Now he was up and walking around, all the effects of the cyanide poisoning gone. The only thing left was the broken arm he wore in a sling. The only evidence left of what Sean Fitzpatrick had done.
Liam Maguire, as John kept having to remind himself to call the man, was not someone he thought about much anymore, or at least tried not to think about anyway. People kept assuring him that the poor kid was still very dead and currently being kept down in the morgue at the SGC. John knew he was eventually going to have to face what Maguire had done to him - all of them, really - and to process it, but for now, he was too busy just trying to heal.
John's knee was the worst. The damage left behind by Liam's boot had been severe, though the orthopedic surgeon he'd been meeting with assured John he would not need any further surgeries once they removed the external fixator hardware. At least not until the entire joint failed. At that point, they would need to consider a replacement, but Rodney seemed hopeful whatever device had saved his life just might take care of that altogether. John wasn't putting much stock into that, but it was a little bit of hope out there in the darkness.
His body was healing in all sorts of ways that were baffling his doctors. The bandages on his chest wounds were gone, as were all the stitches in his forehead. But his heart was still struggling to heal fully and his body ached in ways he couldn't even explain. He was still as weak as a kitten, but there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he was on the mend.
About five days later, if the whiteboard someone had set up with the date and name of his current nurse was to be believed, John found himself wide awake. He'd just been through some therapy with the heart and lung specialist they'd flown in from San Francisco. There was a breathing treatment involved and the medicine had him feeling jumpy. Carrie was in the chair beside his bed this time, pretending to read a book but stealing glances at him every few seconds. She seemed to be looking for the right moment to ask him something.
John knew they'd had prior conversations about some important things already, but he honestly couldn't remember any of the details. He was fairly certain none of them had involved much beyond her asking him how he was doing, but he was still nervous. His guilt over Teyla and Ronon and all those people in the hives had dissipated considerably, but John was still responsible for Carrie getting kidnapped and drawn into all of this. She never should have had to deal with any of it.
But she had, and here they were, and now John was going to have to deal with the aftermath whether he wanted to or not.
It was very bright in his room at the moment. The walls were painted in the violent orange of a winter sunset. Dust moats played in the slats of sunlight making their way in through the blinds on the window. John scratched at the damn oxygen tubing sitting on his upper lip and tried to come up with a way to start the potentially very awkward conversation they were about to have.
Carrie had her head bent over the book and hadn't looked over at him in a bit. Normally, after a therapy session like the one he'd just had, John would be exhausted and slip right into sleep almost immediately, but today it was different. Today needed to be different.
"So I seem to remember something about you saving my life."
She looked up from her book, her dark eyes surprised yet soft. "And I thought you were asleep."
John shrugged, wincing as the movement pulled at injuries still struggling to heal.
"Do you need anything? Should I get the nurse?" Carrie asked, apparently picking up on his discomfort and immediately sitting forward in her chair.
"No," he ground out through gritted teeth. "I'll be ok."
"You know, they warned me about this," Carrie sighed, marking her place in the book and closing the cover.
"Warned you about what?"
"That you would try to downplay your pain. And about your inability to ever ask for help."
John let out a breath as he finally found a position that didn't hurt quite as much. "I ask for help."
"You're lucky I know your tells."
"And what's the verdict?" John asked, amused by their little standoff.
"I think you're okay for now, but wince like that again and I'm calling for someone."
"Fair enough."
Carrie leaned forward to set her book on a cart near the side of John's bed. There were empty food containers and candy bar wrappers littering the top of it. The mess had Rodney McKay written all over it. Carrie eyed the detritus left behind by their endless hours of waiting around in chairs for him to wake up before sweeping it all into a nearby trash can.
"How are you doing with all of this?" he asked when she finally settled back into her chair.
Carrie studied him for a second or two before answering. "Do you want an honest answer to that question?"
"I'd prefer it," he said.
"I'm pretty overwhelmed by it all. I mean, last week I was a waitress at a bar and today I have people telling me I could probably fly this place to another galaxy if I tried hard enough."
John nodded, remembering those strange few days after he'd found out how strong his ATA gene was. "You're like me," he said as her words sunk in fully.
"So they keep telling me." She probably didn't mean for it to happen, but the words sounded almost bitter.
"I'm so sorry you ever got wrapped up in all of this. I never meant to…"
But Carrie put up a hand. "Stop right there, John. Not another word. Your friends told me everything."
John raised a brow in surprise.
"Yes, I mean everything. I know about the war and what you were forced to do all those years ago. I know you had to run away from this place because of it. I know how much you meant to every single person here and I know about Teyla and Ronon. Rodney even took me through everything to do with Sean Fitzpatrick, or Liam Maguire, or whatever I'm supposed to call him. I've heard all the stories John, and none of them have changed how I feel about you. I still love you."
John opened his mouth to interrupt, but Carrie gave him a warning look that said not to even try.
"I know you love me too, but just not in the same way. I know you love me the way you love your friends and your teammates. I know you care just as deeply for Blue River as you do this place. That feeling is mutual, by the way. You would not believe the number of people who have been by asking about your condition. How many people I've comforted or hands I've held.
"It's a lot, John. And not one of them has ever given any indication that they blame you for any of it. I sure as hell don't and whatever guilt or blame you're feeling over me and what happened, you can just put that out of your mind right now. It's stupid and pointless and I won't have it."
John let her little speech settle in. He hadn't been expecting it. In fact, he had been expecting this conversation to take a completely different turn. One that ended with her storming out of the room and never wanting to see him again. That was John's old way of thinking. The new way was something he was still trying on for size. That whole accepting the past was still a part of him but moving on and forgiving himself, thing. Rodney had demanded it from him that first day. Carrie was doing it to him now, and he was going to try. He really was.
"Tell me you're ok," John said after a moment of thought. "Tell me you're ok and then I'll try to do as you ask."
"I'm fine," she promised, her eyes bright with conviction.
"And that device you used? Were there any side effects?"
"Rodney and Carson are still running tests on my bloodwork, but there doesn't seem to be any."
John lifted a hand to massage at his neck. The muscles there were tight and bunched thanks to the constant pain he was in and the thin pillows he never could get comfortable against. "I'm still a little fuzzy on all the details."
"I've forgotten a lot of it, but from what Rodney and I have been able to piece together, I was able to find some kind of ancient tech that helped me heal you."
"How on Earth did you manage that?"
"The city showed me," Carrie shrugged. "Or at least I think it was the city. Either that or Teyla's ghost showed up and told me all about it."
"Teyla?" John asked, elusive memories of her just out of reach.
"I told you this before, don't you remember?"
John shook his head, embarrassed to have to admit it. "Like I said, still a bit fuzzy."
"Well, that's understandable considering your heart stopped and you were basically dead."
"Well, don't sugar coat it or anything," John tried to joke with a smile. With the pain radiating from his knee at the moment, he was pretty sure it had come out as a grimace. "So Teyla, huh?"
"As crazy as that sounds," Carrie replied. "She told me she could see why you cared for me so much, and that I should tell you she said so after we got you through all of this."
"That sounds like something Teyla would say."
"She also told me that I'm supposed to tell TJ that she loves him," Carrie continued.
"That's her son," John pointed out.
"So they tell me."
"He's supposed to join the Atlantis expedition. I asked General Landry to push through his transfer. I hope he does."
"Didn't anyone tell you?" Carrie asked.
"Tell me what?" John replied, suddenly very wary. If she was about to give him bad news, he really was going to ask for the pain meds he knew he was due for so he could shut the world out for a while again.
"TJ is here, John," Carrie said, surprising the shit out of him.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, General Landry worked it out right after you got hurt. He's been here for weeks."
"No shit!" he exclaimed, suddenly very excited. "Where is he? Can I see him?" he asked, even as his injuries throbbed in time with his heart.
"I think he started his training with Colonel Lorne this morning. He's probably still in the middle of it, but as soon as Rodney gets back we can try and track him down for you."
"I'd like that," he said, though he had a funny feeling by the time Rodney got back from wherever it was he'd disappeared to, John was going to be asleep again. The pain from his injuries was increasing exponentially by the minute and a thin sheen of sweat was beginning to form on his brow. He had more to say to Carrie before he got carried off again by the drugs.
"So what's next for you?" he asked, kind of terrified at what her answer might be.
"Well, Landry offered me a job here," she said slowly.
"I kind of figured as much. People with the ATA gene are in pretty short supply around here."
"That's what they keep telling me."
"So are you considering their offer?"
"I am," she said. "Or at least, I was."
John tried to keep his face blank but a tiny little part of himself was sad to hear it. They would never be able to rekindle… whatever it was they had back in Blue River, but he still cared for her. Just not in the way she cared about him. He knew now that she recognized that, which was the only thing making this any easier. "I kinda figured that, too."
"But it's not what you think John," she said before he could start in on those guilty feelings again. "I'm not going because of what happened with that Maguire man. This is a lot to handle and I'm sure I'd be fine with some training. But I have to think about my own mental health right now. I'm not a soldier and I know my own limits. Hostile alien races and other galaxies are just not something I can handle right now. Blue River is my home and as far away from civilization as I want to go."
"I get it."
"I have Eileen to think of as well. She'd never be able to run the store without me there to help and I am not leaving her alone again."
They were all perfectly logical explanations, and ones John supported entirely.
"So… it's goodbye then."
Carrie sighed. "But not for forever, and it's not like I'm leaving tomorrow. General Landry is going to let me stick around for a little while to learn about this place in case I ever change my mind about coming back."
John could live with that.
"Hey," he said a moment later, "do you think you could go and track Rodney down? I'm dying to see TJ."
Carrie smiled, her dark eyes crinkling around the edges. "I'd be happy to."
Having no comms device, John realized that meant she would need to leave. He was ok with that because he was seriously considering calling the nurse to find out when he was due for another round of pain meds. His knee and his chest were really starting to bother him. He kept wanting to reach under the horrid hospital gown they had put him in and scratch at the skin around his scars. They were still healing and the itchiness was driving him insane. He knew he wouldn't though. They were still so tender.
Carrie got up to leave, but as soon as she got to the other side of John's bed she stopped.
John paused mid-shift under his blankets - the friction was the only thing that helped with the itch sometimes - and met her eyes. She closed the gap between them, capturing the sides of his face with her hands. She was leaning in, hesitating ever so slightly to give him a moment to decide if this was what he wanted. When John kept still, she drew him the rest of the way in.
The kiss was brief but intense. A goodbye of sorts, not a declaration of love and they said nothing to each other as she left a moment later. John watched her go, trying to decide how he felt. He pushed his call button a moment later when the icepicks in his knee returned.
By the time Carrie returned with Rodney, he was fast asleep again.
The next morning dawned sunny and cloudless outside his window. John found himself awake on his own as the early morning light gathered outside his window. He ensured several difficult hours of PT before the first of his visitors arrived.
Carson came trouncing into this room before the sun was even fully up, fussing over John and checking his bandages while John pretended to watch the TV someone had brought into his room on a rollaway cart. Carrie was next, looking sleepy-eyed in an Air Force sweatshirt that was too big for her. It looked suspiciously like one John used to own, but every time he tried to ask her about it she just shrugged.
John was still pretty weak, but he managed to hold court well enough from his hospital bed as people popped their heads in from time to time to say hello. His doctors hadn't let him ditch the oxygen yet, despite his many protestations, but therapy was helping and he seemed to feel stronger and stronger with each hour that passed.
Carson and Carrie were still in the room by the time Rodney arrived.
"I see I'm late to the party," he joked, coming over to the side of John's bed. If anyone noticed the hand he used to touch John's shoulder lightly, they didn't say anything.
"Did you bring him?" John asked, hating how hoarse his voice still sounded.
"As promised," Rodney replied, gesturing towards the door to the room.
John watched as a tall, lanky kid walked in, looking dapper yet nervous in his shiny new USSF uniform.
"My god," John muttered before he could hold it back. "You look just like her."
TJ was the spitting image of his mother. Her eyes stared back at John through his youthful face. His mouth curved up in that same way hers always had when she smiled. He even moved in a similar way and it was so surreal, John couldn't help but grin from ear to ear as they shook hands.
"I'm really glad to see you're doing better, Sir," TJ intoned as he straightened.
"You can save the formalities for missions, kid. Until Atlantis takes off, I'm just John... or Sheppard if you feel like it."
"Or how about Uncle John?" Carrie piped up from across the bed and TJ's face colored slightly as he looked away.
"Uncle John?" John questioned.
"It's just what Pops always called you and it just sorta stuck," TJ replied sheepishly. "I called you that one night and now she won't leave me alone about it." He tilted his head in Carrie's direction good-naturedly.
John could tell the two were well on their way to becoming friends, and that thought made him smile. Everything was finally sliding back into place.
"Alright kid," John said, recovering. "Out with it. I want to know everything. And the more ammunition you give me to use against your father, the more points you get."
TJ ginned as everyone laughed, looking even more like Teyla as he settled himself into a chair and started regaling them with stories of Rodney and his life on Earth.
Even Lorne showed up shortly after that, standing in the doorway and listening as they all laughed at some off-color remark Carrie had interjected into the conversation. John met Lorne's eyes over the heads of the gathered group, indicating with his head that the Colonel should come in and join them. He tried to also put something else behind his eyes, and hoped Lorne understood.
It was a look of thanks for taking care of everyone while John was out of it. It was an acknowledgment for having saved his life in the cottage and for keeping Atlantis afloat while everything went to shit around them. Lorne accepted the look with a thankful nod before taking an empty seat near Rodney. The scientist was mid-story, having naturally taken over the proceedings with overdramatic tales of his own heroics, but paused to clap Lorne on the shoulder in greeting.
It was perfect, John suddenly realized as he let his eyes linger over each smiling face in turn.
They were all alive and ready to embark on the next great adventure. The universe had somehow managed to stitch the ragged and tattered edges of their individual lives back together again to form something new. Something whole and complete. It was woven in place with the memories of the past, made strong by the threads of those they'd lost along the way. John found he no longer worried about those seams pulling apart again. Through everything fate had thrown at them, they'd managed to persevere, and even though he never would have thought it possible, John finally had his family back.
It was new and it was different, but it was his.
With sudden clarity he realized he had no more "what if" moments, just endless possibilities stretching out ahead of him.
And as the sun sank outside his window and Atlantis rumbled happily beneath them, John Sheppard knew, for the first time in twenty years, that he had finally rediscovered that elusive and precious thing called home.
FIN.