It was nearing to midnight - in a slow, painful sort of way - at least for Col. John Sheppard, who was completing the second night of his imposed 36-hour watch-duty, courtesy of Colonel Asshole (I'm sorry for this terrible, terrible word! But strong force was needed!)Tonight he had loomed above the balconies for a much longer time, madness dancing in his eyes. He was just waiting for Sheppard to crack.
Sheppard was also waiting for something to crack: Caldwell's face – courtesy of Sheppard's fist. It was undoubtedly becoming unbearable. Sometimes Caldwell came down into the gateroom, just to walk around him, say a few berating comments, and almost invite Sheppard to take a swing at him. It was all he did, seeing as he had no evidence of an actual plot for mutiny. But, as he'd mention, according to Hobbes, they were on their tails.
When Sheppard was finally alone, after a few reassuring calls into his headset from his friends about the meeting tomorrow, he once again slumped against the wall. His eyes were in so much pain that he couldn't close them if he wanted to, and he felt sick and weak all over. Everything was becoming a fuzzy blur. He watched two grizzly bears fence for a while and then had a confusing conversation with Darth Vader. Apparently he hadn't been ballroom dancing with Weir at all and that Sheppard had imagined the whole thing. Sheppard apologized more than three times for the blatant lie but Vader refused to accept. Out of sheer frustration, he ended up having to have a light-saber duel to settle the matter. He couldn't remember who won.
Sheppard went back to slouching against the wall and picked up his book. The Garfield comics were ingenious, of course. All the ladies were deeply impressed by his love of literature…except now McKay ruined it. He decided to have a light-saber duel with McKay tomorrow at the poker game. Oh…it's not a real poker game.
Sheppard started to feel rather sad about that. He hung his head…one eye closed….the other eye. almost…sleep was on the horizon. But then –
"Colonel Sheppard," the eerie voice of Caldwell floated from behind.
Sheppard jerked his head up, clearing his throat and shifting as if he had just been staring at the floor.
"I didn't fall asleep," Sheppard blinked rapidly.
"I see," was all Caldwell said.
It was very strange for Caldwell to just say, "I see", because after all we've been through, we'd really expect more from him. I mean, Sheppard ALMOST just fell asleep on us. And Caldwell's not going to go nutty about it?
Perhaps our answer lies in the very next thing that Caldwell did. He was nuttier than the nutter he was before – he had to be – because just then he pulled from his jacket a handgun. One of those fancy ones you'd get from the Arms Locker. We can assume he had been down there today to pick on Mister Ford again. What a jerk. No wonder Ford went mentally insane and ran away from Atlantis. It wasn't Wraith drugs, are you kidding me? It was just the perfect excuse to get the hell away from Caldwell.
So, Caldwell is holding this gun out to Sheppard. At first, Sheppard just stared at him, wondering if he was going to shoot him…so he readied himself with his light-saber, so as to deflect the bullet…of course, it took a second to realize he didn't actually have a light-saber.
"Do what you desire. And kill me," Caldwell thrust the gun into Sheppard's hands.
Sheppard considered it for a moment...I mean…he did ask. And what if someone hands you a gun and really politely asks you to just shoot them? First of all, it takes courage to do that in the first place, and second, if they asked really politely, wouldn't it be rude to deny it to them? Like what if you were really concerned about formalities and politeness and all that. If you refused, you'd just be known as "that rude jerk that wouldn't pull the trigger."
"No," Sheppard pushed the gun back on him. "I won't. I'm not a murderer."
A red blur raced down the gateroom steps.
"John!" Weir raced up to them.
"I could hear on the headset…Colonel Caldwell, let's go. We're going to the infirmary."
"Yes, yes."
And they left.
Though the past few days had been odd…that pretty much surpassed them.
The next morning, Caldwell was back in the control centre with his usual smug self. It was as if last night hadn't had happened. Sheppard struggled to stay on awake, counting down the hours. When they were finally up, he resisted the urge to race around the room in glee and made way for his quarters. To sleep. Obviously. But he was stopped on the way.
"Colonel Sheppard!" Teyla raced up to him in the corridor.
Sheppard tensed automatically. "What's going on Teyla?"
"I heard you were in need of assistance," she said out of breath.
He blinked away the blurred lines in his eyes for a second. Who would tell him that? He glanced at the doors of his quarters and back to Teyla.
"Well, sure, I could go for some of this assistance – my place or yours?"
A strange look came over her face and her brow furrowed. "What?"
"Er…"
"You mean, there is not an emergency that your presence is required for?"
"Just sleep?"
Teyla paused in deep thought, ignoring all of Sheppard's "suggestions". Then she snapped to attention, in dark realization: "I was tricked. I've left Dr. McKay alone – Hobbes will be after him."
Sheppard instantly forgot about sleep and raced down the hall with Teyla by his side.
Oh, wow, speaking of sleep, I am sooo tired. Let say we pause this story so I can go get some shut eye. I've been writing chapters all day. (The other story I'm writing under my name). I think I'll leave you in suspense. Night chaps.