Recovery
By: Rosemerry
Rated: PG-13
Disclaimer: Gilchrist is mine, but Shepard, Sydney, and all the rest belong to JJ Abrams.
Category: Drama/Angst
Feedback: Yes, please.
Spoilers: Episode 7, Color Blind
Summary: After Parting ways with Sydney, Martin Shepard begins to rebuild his life.
Thanks: To Sabine and Denz for the beta-read.
Recovery
Martin Shepard was a wounded soul. Wounded, but not dead, and he was going to do everything he could to heal himself. He desperately wanted to do something good with the rest of his life; to somehow right the many wrongs he had committed while under the influence of FTL's programming. Meeting Sydney Bristow had started him on the path towards healing. Now he had to do the rest himself, but he knew he would always owe Sydney for getting him out of Mangalev Institute in Romania and giving him that initial confidence in himself.
Shepard sat down at a table in one of the airport's cafes. He took the post card out of his bag and turned it over. He wrote the address Sydney had given him on the lines and then he wrote "Blue Skies Again. I Owe You". He picked up the postcard and his bag and walked over to the mailbox. He smiled to himself as he put the postcard in the slot. He was beginning his new life. He turned and walked under the "Outbound Flights" sign. He had decided to go back home to Glasgow, and then up to the highlands or one of the many islands off the Scottish coast because he was still anxious about being around too many people. He still wanted someplace remote. He had done enough damage and he didn't want to risk hurting anyone else.
During one of his flashbacks he had remembered having a safe deposit box in a Swiss bank and he had left the key in a locker in the train station across the street from the bank. It had been risky, but he had been able to retrieve his money from the safe deposit box. If he lived simply, he would have enough to sustain him for many years.
On the plane he looked through his map of Scotland and tried to decide where he wanted to stay. Once he decided on an area, he could pick up a list of places for rent when he got to Glasgow. He eventually decided to pick one of the islands because they received a lesser amount of tourists than the highlands. As he looked through his map, he remembered that the western islands usually get a lot of sunshine. Now that he could see colors again, he decided that looking up and seeing the bright sunshine would be very beneficial to his healing. He decided to wait until he could get to Glasgow and find out which island had places to stay before he made his final decision. He refolded his map and put it in his bag. Then he took out a sports magazine he had bought at the airport and began to read. The other passengers were all sleeping, but he didn't dare attempt sleep for fear that he would have another flashback. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself before he even got to Scotland.
Finally, the pilot's voice came over the sound system and announced that they would be arriving in Glasgow within a few minutes. Even though it had only been a few hours, it felt like days to him. He felt anxious; what if someone recognized him? He tried to relax by reminding himself that it had been several years since he had been in Scotland – and who would recognize him with that dreadful haircut? He smiled slightly at his own weak attempt at a joke. "A joke in the midst of your turbulent emotional state? That's very positive.", he thought to himself.
His only barrier now was Customs, but Sydney had assured him that the passport was perfect. If he could trust anyone at all, it was Sydney Bristow. He walked off the plane and down the concourse to Customs with the passport in his hand. He handed the passport to the agent and tried not to look suspicious.
After several long moments, the agent stamped the page and said, "Welcome to Scotland."
Shepard took the passport back. "Thank you."
He walked toward the main part of the airport to look for the rental listings. After twenty minutes of looking he came across an ad for a small croft building on the island of Coll. It sounded perfect. No neighbors, plenty of land nearby to take walks, and even a spot where he could start a small garden. He copied down the rental information and went to arrange his transportation. Then he called the number in the ad and spoke to the owner of the building. The man lived on the island of Tiree, and Shepard made arrangements to meet him there and pay the first two months' rent in advance. After talking to several different airline employees, he found out that he could take a small plane to Tiree and then charter a boat to Coll. He would have to wait several hours for the flight to Tiree, but the place seemed so perfect – he just had to have it. He went to the newsstand and bought several newspapers to keep him busy while he waited. He sat down in the small waiting area and thought about his plans. He desperately wanted to help Sydney destroy SD-6, but he would be of no use to her, or anyone else, unless he could regain his strength and get himself together.
He sighed softly; there would be plenty of time to think that through on Coll. He opened the first newspaper and began to read. He became so engrossed in the story of a woman who filed a lawsuit against a major corporation and won against all odds that he didn't notice the time fly past. He was startled when the airline employee told him that he could board the flight now.
Shepard thanked the man and gathered up his meager belongings. There were just a couple of other passengers on the plane. Even though he was exhausted, he still couldn't risk sleep. He took out a sketchbook and some pencils and began to draw. This time the sketching was soothing to him; especially since he was drawing what he imagined the croft building and the land around it would look like. He spent the entire flight working on his sketch and the process of it renewed his energy. By the time the plane landed, he was feeling much better. He walked to the local pub with a spring in his step. He opened the door, walked straight up to the bartender and asked for Mr. Gilchrist, the man he was supposed to meet. The bartender gestured towards an older man sitting at a table in the corner.
Shepard walked over and said, "Hello, Mr. Gilchrist. I'm the man you spoke to on the phone about renting your place on Coll."
Gilchrist smiled. "Aye. Sit down, lad, and have a pint."
Shepard smiled back. "Thanks"
Gilchrist went up to the bar, got their drinks, and brought them back to the table. They spent a pleasant hour chatting. Shepard was still nervous about having much contact with anyone, but Gilchrist was a pleasant man and Shepard was able to steer the discussion away from anything that made him too uncomfortable. Shepard also enjoyed the simple act of having a normal conversation with someone. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he did something like this. Despite this, Shepard still didn't completely trust himself and he was anxious to get to the house.
"Mr. Gilchrist, do you know of anyone who can take me to Coll?"
"I can do it, lad. When would you like to go?"
"Would right now be ok?
Gilchrist laughed. "Sure, lad."
Shepard smiled. "I'll just give you the 2 months rent now, ok?"
"Sure."
Shepard gave Gilchrist the rent in cash according to their arrangement. They walked down the street and Shepard bought some groceries to tide him over for a few weeks. Then Gilchrist took Shepard out to his boat and they left the small harbor. The two men continued their conversation over the course of the trip and Shepard told Gilchrist a lie that he was an overstressed banker taking a leave of absence to get away from it all. He hated telling another lie, but there was no way he could tell the truth. In the next second, he thought of Sydney and Danny and his part in it all. He wanted to cry. He turned away from Gilchrist and fought back the tears while the other man rambled on about his favorite football team and how he was looking forward to next week's match. When Shepard didn't respond, Gilchrist questioned him. Shepard feigned seasickness and sat down in the boat with his head in his hands.
"Ach, lad. That's a shame. Dinnae worry, we'll be there in a few minutes."
All Shepard could manage was to nod his head. The rest of the trip passed in silence. Shepard tried to compose himself, but he worried that he had made Gilchrist suspicious. What self-respecting Scotsman admitted to seasickness? He would have to say something to minimize the damage. He would have to decide what he was going to say soon; they were approaching the dock at Coll. Gilchrist tied the boat to the dock and turned around to face Shepard.
"Feelin' better, lad?"
"Aye, Gilchrist. I shouldn't have eaten that damn airplane food." Shepard managed a sheepish look.
"Ah. That's it, then. You'll be fine in no time." Gilchrist smiled at him. "Let me show ya the place now."
Shepard nodded. "Aye."
Shepard picked up his bag and followed Gilchrist up the sandy bank. They walked a short distance and came to a charming house with a small garden along one wall. Shepard grinned. The place was just what he had hoped for.
He turned toward Gilchrist. "It's perfect! Cheers, mate!" He shook Gilchrist's hand.
"I'm glad ya like it, lad. In the next couple of days I'll bring ya a boat of yer own so ya can come back to Tiree whenever ya want."
"Thanks. That'd be brilliant."
Gilchrist handed him the two bags of groceries he had been carrying and they said their goodbyes. Shepard turned and watched him disappear around the hill. Then he turned back to look at his new home. It was a lovely spot, and he felt hopeful just looking at it. The house was painted a brilliant white and it has a thatched roof. Shepard walked down the path towards the red door. Gilchrist had told him he had just repainted everything last summer. Shepard smiled and put down his bags to open the door. He took the key that Gilchrist had given him out of his pocket and put in the lock. He stood and in the doorway and looked over the room. The soft light of the sun filtered in behind him and cast warm shadows over the room. The wooden floor had a small layer of dust that had accumulated since the last person had stayed there, six months ago. To his left, he could see a corner of the kitchen. He could see part of the stove and a small refrigerator. In front of him, there was a round wooden table and two matching chairs. They were placed along the far wall under a window. To the right, there was a doorway leading to the bedroom and small bathroom. He felt so lucky to have found this place. He went inside and put the groceries away in the kitchen. Then he got to work tidying up the place. There wasn't that much to do, but he wanted to make this place his own. He went through all the rooms and rearranged them to his liking. The last thing he did was sweep the dust out the door. It felt good to get rid of the dirt and start fresh. He stood in the doorway and gazed over the land. Once again, he smiled at its beauty. After a few moments, he turned around and went back inside. Then he went into the bedroom and placed his clothing in the drawers, stacked his newspapers and magazines on the nightstand, and put his sketchpad and art supplies on the round table near the window. Next to his art things he put the small CD player and the CDs he had bought before he left Switzerland. As he sat down to survey the room, the exhaustion caught up with him. He felt weary. Then his stomach growled and he realized he hadn't eaten since that airport café in Switzerland. He went to the kitchen and made a sandwich, which he ate in record time. Then he took a shower and went to bed.
He fell asleep immediately and slept soundly for several hours. Unfortunately, his sleep did not remain peaceful. He had flashes of killing Parkashov and burying him in that marshland. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He woke up with a start and tried to catch his breath. He looked at his watch and realized that he had just slept for fourteen hours. He got up and began to pace around the cottage, looking for something to do. He thought about getting some work started in the garden, but then he remembered he had decided to pick up garden supplies next week and he cursed under his breath. Then his gaze came upon his art supplies. He decided to take a walk and see if he could find anything to draw. He put on his coat and gathered up his sketchpad and a couple of pencils and headed outside. He walked around for about twenty minutes until he came to the coast. The sun was shining upon the water and there was a gentle breeze blowing the grasses back and forth. He felt calmer just looking at the scene. He sat down on the grassy hill above the beach and set his supplies next to him. He surveyed the beach for several moments, deciding on what part of it he would draw. Finally he decided and began to draw. The time flew by as he sketched. After some time he began to have some trouble making things out and his first thought was that he was going back to black and white vision. Panicked, he looked around him to see if he could make out any colors. As he looked around he was relieved to see that it was just the setting of the sun. He was amazed that he had been sketching that long, but relieved to know he wasn't getting any worse. He picked up his art supplies and walked back the way he had come.
When he got to the cottage, he turned on the light and looked at his sketch. He was pleased with it. Looking at it gave him that same sense of calm he had felt when he first surveyed the scene. He propped it up against the wall and went into the kitchen and made himself some soup. Then he listened to some of his CDs and went to sleep.
He didn't really want to sleep because he knew it would bring another flashback, but he remembered what Sydney had said. The fact that he had flashbacks at all meant he was healing. The flashbacks hurt him like hell and he anguished over what he had done, but he knew he had to go through them if he was to have any hopes of accomplishing his goal. He wanted to right the wrongs he committed by helping Sydney bring down SD-6, so they would never be able to hurt any one else ever again. He knew it would be a long and painful road, but he could not be afraid of it. He had much to accomplish and he could not let his pain stand in the way.
To be continued…
By: Rosemerry
Rated: PG-13
Disclaimer: Gilchrist is mine, but Shepard, Sydney, and all the rest belong to JJ Abrams.
Category: Drama/Angst
Feedback: Yes, please.
Spoilers: Episode 7, Color Blind
Summary: After Parting ways with Sydney, Martin Shepard begins to rebuild his life.
Thanks: To Sabine and Denz for the beta-read.
Recovery
Martin Shepard was a wounded soul. Wounded, but not dead, and he was going to do everything he could to heal himself. He desperately wanted to do something good with the rest of his life; to somehow right the many wrongs he had committed while under the influence of FTL's programming. Meeting Sydney Bristow had started him on the path towards healing. Now he had to do the rest himself, but he knew he would always owe Sydney for getting him out of Mangalev Institute in Romania and giving him that initial confidence in himself.
Shepard sat down at a table in one of the airport's cafes. He took the post card out of his bag and turned it over. He wrote the address Sydney had given him on the lines and then he wrote "Blue Skies Again. I Owe You". He picked up the postcard and his bag and walked over to the mailbox. He smiled to himself as he put the postcard in the slot. He was beginning his new life. He turned and walked under the "Outbound Flights" sign. He had decided to go back home to Glasgow, and then up to the highlands or one of the many islands off the Scottish coast because he was still anxious about being around too many people. He still wanted someplace remote. He had done enough damage and he didn't want to risk hurting anyone else.
During one of his flashbacks he had remembered having a safe deposit box in a Swiss bank and he had left the key in a locker in the train station across the street from the bank. It had been risky, but he had been able to retrieve his money from the safe deposit box. If he lived simply, he would have enough to sustain him for many years.
On the plane he looked through his map of Scotland and tried to decide where he wanted to stay. Once he decided on an area, he could pick up a list of places for rent when he got to Glasgow. He eventually decided to pick one of the islands because they received a lesser amount of tourists than the highlands. As he looked through his map, he remembered that the western islands usually get a lot of sunshine. Now that he could see colors again, he decided that looking up and seeing the bright sunshine would be very beneficial to his healing. He decided to wait until he could get to Glasgow and find out which island had places to stay before he made his final decision. He refolded his map and put it in his bag. Then he took out a sports magazine he had bought at the airport and began to read. The other passengers were all sleeping, but he didn't dare attempt sleep for fear that he would have another flashback. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself before he even got to Scotland.
Finally, the pilot's voice came over the sound system and announced that they would be arriving in Glasgow within a few minutes. Even though it had only been a few hours, it felt like days to him. He felt anxious; what if someone recognized him? He tried to relax by reminding himself that it had been several years since he had been in Scotland – and who would recognize him with that dreadful haircut? He smiled slightly at his own weak attempt at a joke. "A joke in the midst of your turbulent emotional state? That's very positive.", he thought to himself.
His only barrier now was Customs, but Sydney had assured him that the passport was perfect. If he could trust anyone at all, it was Sydney Bristow. He walked off the plane and down the concourse to Customs with the passport in his hand. He handed the passport to the agent and tried not to look suspicious.
After several long moments, the agent stamped the page and said, "Welcome to Scotland."
Shepard took the passport back. "Thank you."
He walked toward the main part of the airport to look for the rental listings. After twenty minutes of looking he came across an ad for a small croft building on the island of Coll. It sounded perfect. No neighbors, plenty of land nearby to take walks, and even a spot where he could start a small garden. He copied down the rental information and went to arrange his transportation. Then he called the number in the ad and spoke to the owner of the building. The man lived on the island of Tiree, and Shepard made arrangements to meet him there and pay the first two months' rent in advance. After talking to several different airline employees, he found out that he could take a small plane to Tiree and then charter a boat to Coll. He would have to wait several hours for the flight to Tiree, but the place seemed so perfect – he just had to have it. He went to the newsstand and bought several newspapers to keep him busy while he waited. He sat down in the small waiting area and thought about his plans. He desperately wanted to help Sydney destroy SD-6, but he would be of no use to her, or anyone else, unless he could regain his strength and get himself together.
He sighed softly; there would be plenty of time to think that through on Coll. He opened the first newspaper and began to read. He became so engrossed in the story of a woman who filed a lawsuit against a major corporation and won against all odds that he didn't notice the time fly past. He was startled when the airline employee told him that he could board the flight now.
Shepard thanked the man and gathered up his meager belongings. There were just a couple of other passengers on the plane. Even though he was exhausted, he still couldn't risk sleep. He took out a sketchbook and some pencils and began to draw. This time the sketching was soothing to him; especially since he was drawing what he imagined the croft building and the land around it would look like. He spent the entire flight working on his sketch and the process of it renewed his energy. By the time the plane landed, he was feeling much better. He walked to the local pub with a spring in his step. He opened the door, walked straight up to the bartender and asked for Mr. Gilchrist, the man he was supposed to meet. The bartender gestured towards an older man sitting at a table in the corner.
Shepard walked over and said, "Hello, Mr. Gilchrist. I'm the man you spoke to on the phone about renting your place on Coll."
Gilchrist smiled. "Aye. Sit down, lad, and have a pint."
Shepard smiled back. "Thanks"
Gilchrist went up to the bar, got their drinks, and brought them back to the table. They spent a pleasant hour chatting. Shepard was still nervous about having much contact with anyone, but Gilchrist was a pleasant man and Shepard was able to steer the discussion away from anything that made him too uncomfortable. Shepard also enjoyed the simple act of having a normal conversation with someone. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he did something like this. Despite this, Shepard still didn't completely trust himself and he was anxious to get to the house.
"Mr. Gilchrist, do you know of anyone who can take me to Coll?"
"I can do it, lad. When would you like to go?"
"Would right now be ok?
Gilchrist laughed. "Sure, lad."
Shepard smiled. "I'll just give you the 2 months rent now, ok?"
"Sure."
Shepard gave Gilchrist the rent in cash according to their arrangement. They walked down the street and Shepard bought some groceries to tide him over for a few weeks. Then Gilchrist took Shepard out to his boat and they left the small harbor. The two men continued their conversation over the course of the trip and Shepard told Gilchrist a lie that he was an overstressed banker taking a leave of absence to get away from it all. He hated telling another lie, but there was no way he could tell the truth. In the next second, he thought of Sydney and Danny and his part in it all. He wanted to cry. He turned away from Gilchrist and fought back the tears while the other man rambled on about his favorite football team and how he was looking forward to next week's match. When Shepard didn't respond, Gilchrist questioned him. Shepard feigned seasickness and sat down in the boat with his head in his hands.
"Ach, lad. That's a shame. Dinnae worry, we'll be there in a few minutes."
All Shepard could manage was to nod his head. The rest of the trip passed in silence. Shepard tried to compose himself, but he worried that he had made Gilchrist suspicious. What self-respecting Scotsman admitted to seasickness? He would have to say something to minimize the damage. He would have to decide what he was going to say soon; they were approaching the dock at Coll. Gilchrist tied the boat to the dock and turned around to face Shepard.
"Feelin' better, lad?"
"Aye, Gilchrist. I shouldn't have eaten that damn airplane food." Shepard managed a sheepish look.
"Ah. That's it, then. You'll be fine in no time." Gilchrist smiled at him. "Let me show ya the place now."
Shepard nodded. "Aye."
Shepard picked up his bag and followed Gilchrist up the sandy bank. They walked a short distance and came to a charming house with a small garden along one wall. Shepard grinned. The place was just what he had hoped for.
He turned toward Gilchrist. "It's perfect! Cheers, mate!" He shook Gilchrist's hand.
"I'm glad ya like it, lad. In the next couple of days I'll bring ya a boat of yer own so ya can come back to Tiree whenever ya want."
"Thanks. That'd be brilliant."
Gilchrist handed him the two bags of groceries he had been carrying and they said their goodbyes. Shepard turned and watched him disappear around the hill. Then he turned back to look at his new home. It was a lovely spot, and he felt hopeful just looking at it. The house was painted a brilliant white and it has a thatched roof. Shepard walked down the path towards the red door. Gilchrist had told him he had just repainted everything last summer. Shepard smiled and put down his bags to open the door. He took the key that Gilchrist had given him out of his pocket and put in the lock. He stood and in the doorway and looked over the room. The soft light of the sun filtered in behind him and cast warm shadows over the room. The wooden floor had a small layer of dust that had accumulated since the last person had stayed there, six months ago. To his left, he could see a corner of the kitchen. He could see part of the stove and a small refrigerator. In front of him, there was a round wooden table and two matching chairs. They were placed along the far wall under a window. To the right, there was a doorway leading to the bedroom and small bathroom. He felt so lucky to have found this place. He went inside and put the groceries away in the kitchen. Then he got to work tidying up the place. There wasn't that much to do, but he wanted to make this place his own. He went through all the rooms and rearranged them to his liking. The last thing he did was sweep the dust out the door. It felt good to get rid of the dirt and start fresh. He stood in the doorway and gazed over the land. Once again, he smiled at its beauty. After a few moments, he turned around and went back inside. Then he went into the bedroom and placed his clothing in the drawers, stacked his newspapers and magazines on the nightstand, and put his sketchpad and art supplies on the round table near the window. Next to his art things he put the small CD player and the CDs he had bought before he left Switzerland. As he sat down to survey the room, the exhaustion caught up with him. He felt weary. Then his stomach growled and he realized he hadn't eaten since that airport café in Switzerland. He went to the kitchen and made a sandwich, which he ate in record time. Then he took a shower and went to bed.
He fell asleep immediately and slept soundly for several hours. Unfortunately, his sleep did not remain peaceful. He had flashes of killing Parkashov and burying him in that marshland. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He woke up with a start and tried to catch his breath. He looked at his watch and realized that he had just slept for fourteen hours. He got up and began to pace around the cottage, looking for something to do. He thought about getting some work started in the garden, but then he remembered he had decided to pick up garden supplies next week and he cursed under his breath. Then his gaze came upon his art supplies. He decided to take a walk and see if he could find anything to draw. He put on his coat and gathered up his sketchpad and a couple of pencils and headed outside. He walked around for about twenty minutes until he came to the coast. The sun was shining upon the water and there was a gentle breeze blowing the grasses back and forth. He felt calmer just looking at the scene. He sat down on the grassy hill above the beach and set his supplies next to him. He surveyed the beach for several moments, deciding on what part of it he would draw. Finally he decided and began to draw. The time flew by as he sketched. After some time he began to have some trouble making things out and his first thought was that he was going back to black and white vision. Panicked, he looked around him to see if he could make out any colors. As he looked around he was relieved to see that it was just the setting of the sun. He was amazed that he had been sketching that long, but relieved to know he wasn't getting any worse. He picked up his art supplies and walked back the way he had come.
When he got to the cottage, he turned on the light and looked at his sketch. He was pleased with it. Looking at it gave him that same sense of calm he had felt when he first surveyed the scene. He propped it up against the wall and went into the kitchen and made himself some soup. Then he listened to some of his CDs and went to sleep.
He didn't really want to sleep because he knew it would bring another flashback, but he remembered what Sydney had said. The fact that he had flashbacks at all meant he was healing. The flashbacks hurt him like hell and he anguished over what he had done, but he knew he had to go through them if he was to have any hopes of accomplishing his goal. He wanted to right the wrongs he committed by helping Sydney bring down SD-6, so they would never be able to hurt any one else ever again. He knew it would be a long and painful road, but he could not be afraid of it. He had much to accomplish and he could not let his pain stand in the way.
To be continued…