Happenstance
Chapter 3: Fortune's Sons
"You have to make things so bloody difficult, don't you Colonel?" Beckett cursed before rushing back to the colonel's side, taking over from the other doctor working feverishly over their critical patient.
No, this could not be happening. Sheppard had a lot of nerve thinking he could check out like that after all I went through to get him here. Had I not said the man was inconsiderate? Did he not realize the worry this little stunt of his was causing the rest of us? What was the man thinking? Did he think he could be easily replaced? Did he feel he was that expendable? I didn't care what Kavanaugh thought on the matter. John Sheppard was certainly not expendable. Not in my book.
I felt Elizabeth's hand grip mine more tightly as we watched in shock as Carson rushed back into the fray, doing his best to save Sheppard's life. Neither one of us could tear our eyes away from the frenzied activity as we both tried to will the steady hum of the monitor to change back to the rhythmic beeping that signaled a steady heartbeat.
I honestly think my own heart stopped beating for a second or two when I saw Carson plunge an enormous needle into the colonel's chest. Thank god Sheppard was unconscious or he would have had a conniption fit over the size of that needle jabbing into his flesh. Those IV's he hated so much were nothing compared to this. My mouth went dry as I watched the doctor depress the plunger, forcing the vial's fluid contents into Sheppard's body before he continued chest compressions. Whatever concoction Carson injected seemed to have done the trick as his efforts were rewarded with the return of the blip of a normal heart rhythm on the monitor. Seeing that familiar sinus pattern wave across the screen, I released an audible sigh of relief as I too began breathing again.
Shit, I really needed to sit down. That was too close for comfort. Way too close. God almighty! If Carson wasn't as skilled a healer or Sheppard as stubborn a fighter, the colonel would be dead right now. How did Carson do it? How did he keep his emotions in check when a friend and colleague lay before him at death's door? How could he not panic at a time like this? How many times could he handle the challenge of bringing someone close back from the edge of the abyss at the last moment? How did Carson face this on a regular basis when Sheppard kept finding so many creative ways to push Beckett's medical expertise to the limit?
I don't think the good doctor needed that kind of stress. I know I sure as hell didn't. No wonder he had smuggled a case of scotch on the Daedalus during the trip back to Atlantis. Oh, so he marked the crate 'painkillers', but whom did that sneaky Scot think he was fooling? He let the cat out of the bag by insisting on handling that particular load of painkillers himself. Like he would be so concerned about the mishandling of Tylenol and morphine. Yes when Beckett finished getting Sheppard through this, I planned on hitting him up for a shot or two of that fine single malt stash. I don't think he would deny me after this day. I'd need something smoother than Zelenka's home brew, and Carson's contraband liquor would do nicely.
A sudden grip on my arm brought me out of my momentary reverie. Elizabeth was holding onto my arm, though at that point I had no idea if it were to offer support or draw strength from me. Either way, it served to focus my attention back to where the medical team was still working to stabilize the colonel before they took him into surgery. After getting his heart restarted, they had inserted an airway to assist his still labored breathing.
If viewing the previous procedures were not bad enough, I next got to witness the medical staff inserting a chest tube into Sheppard's side to release the trapped blood and allow his collapsed lung to be re-inflated. I have to say, it was not a pleasant experience. Sacrificing a chicken or two would have been a walk in the park compared to the blood and gore I had to see while watching Beckett and his staff in action. Did I not mention my aversion to the sight of blood? When Sheppard fully recovered, I was so making him pay for putting me through this. It would take years for him to fully compensate me for the stress he put me through today. So he'd better plan on living a very long time in order to make restitution. A very long time indeed.
Carson and his minions must have finished getting him prepped because suddenly they were whisking the gurney through the doors leading to the operating room. Before he followed his staff into surgery, Carson took a brief moment to update us on Sheppard's condition.
"We've got him stabilized for the moment. I'll know more once we get in there and assess the extent of the internal damage. I best be getting back to the surgical suite." Carson gave us a brief nod before turning to head through the doors where the colonel had been rushed a minute ago.
"Carson...Will he make it?" Elizabeth asked tentatively.
"I'll do my best, Lass." He looked up at me and his worried eyes and pursed lips told me more than I wanted to know before he turned to leave.
Watching his departing back as he strode through the operating room doors, I felt my chest tighten and my throat constrict. Damn Sheppard! He'd better not die on me. I had already lost too many colleagues in recent months from the small number of people that made up my circle of friends. The few that remained were all I had left. I was not the type to amass a large group of friends. Unbelievable, yes, but true. Being a nerdy genius two grades ahead of my contemporaries tended to isolate me in my youth so I never developed the talent for the social skills necessary to become popular. I was always the kid the others picked on unless they had needed the answers for an upcoming exam, or until they had discovered I could build working bombs out of supplies found in their parents' garages. After that, they were a lot afraid and a little in awe. Both caused them to maintain a healthy distance. So I grew up a loner with my brains and my hard-earned cynicism to keep me company. That is until Dr. Elizabeth Weir recruited me for this expedition.
Now since coming to the Pegasus galaxy, I counted among my closest friends a gruff Scotsman with a heart of gold, a little wily Czech engineer who wore many hats be it bookie, bootlegger, Kavanaugh baiter, or brainy scientist, and a brilliant, multi-lingual, take-no-prisoners diplomat who truly cared for all those in her employ. But the biggest surprise came in the form of one hotshot Air Force pilot gifted with a rare gene who was too curious for his own good. When he first displayed his hidden and until then unknown talent for turning on Ancient devices, I was all too prepared to dislike him. He had all the traits I would never look for in a friend. He was career military and quicker to act than he was to think. He was a real guns blazing, gung-ho adrenaline junkie. Or so I mistakenly thought. Underneath the devil-may-care, flyboy facade was a complicated individual. In time, I discovered he was a closet geek with a protective streak a mile wide, along with determination and loyalty that knew no bounds. And best of all, the man was able to match me snark for snark. No matter how many snide or caustic comments I tossed his way, he just took them in stride with a cheeky grin, giving back as good as he got. Honest to God no one had ever done that so easily before. Even Carson with his droll humor had sometimes cowered at first when confronted with one of my full-on rants. Not Sheppard though. No, the man never showed an ounce of fear when faced with the likes of me. He was either a very brave man or a very reckless one. The jury was still out with the verdict on that one.
Even more remarkable, this authority-bucking soldier actually understood me in all my wonderful complexity. No matter the glorious twists and turns my hyperdriven, caffeine-fueled mind took, Sheppard was right there to meet me at the pass, not only hanging on for the ride, but also offering interesting side trips along the way. The man was a mystery within himself--one I have yet to fully solve I admit. But all the unknowns of what made the colonel tick also made the journey of our friendship so vastly entertaining. Elizabeth might have been the heart of this mission and I the brains, but John Sheppard was its soul. Without him, something truly vital would be irretrievably lost.
I lost track of time as I stood there, physically tired and emotionally numb. I felt as if I were looking down a narrow, dimly lit tunnel, my field of vision focused only on the operating room door in front of me, the peripheral edges gray and blurred. Dare I say Sheppard was like the brother I never had? I wasn't ready to face the possibility of his death. He had already cheated the grim reaper several times before, so why not now? Why not now damn it?
"Rodney? Rodney!" Elizabeth's voice cut through the haze of my runaway thoughts.
"What? Did something happen? Is something wrong?" I stuttered in momentary disorientation.
"Are you all right? You look pale and a million miles away. Maybe you should sit down." She pushed down on my arm and bade me to sit in the nearby chair. "Should I get a doctor?"
"No, I'm fine. Sheppard was the only one hurt." I answered.
"You don't look fine. You look like you're about to faint." Weir's hazel eyes were full of concern as she studied me.
"Elizabeth, I told you I was fine. My blood sugar's probably just low. A bite or two of a power bar, and I'm good. Besides, I don't faint. Pass out from manly hunger maybe, but never faint."
"Look, it's going to be a long wait. Let me go get you something to eat. Carson will have a fit if you go into hypoglycemic shock while he's in surgery." She gave me one of her patented looks that broached no argument. You know that penetrating, raised eyebrow stare that lets you know she's giving you an order, and you'd better damn well follow it.
For once, I was too tired to contradict her, so I just nodded and waved my hand in compliance. If it took her mind off her anxiety about Sheppard and made her feel useful, so be it. Who was I to argue? Besides, it had been hours since my last meal, and what good would I be to the colonel if I went into a starvation-induced coma?
She patted my shoulder and offered me a wan smile before heading off to procure a quick meal to go. I leaned back in the chair until my head rested against the wall, closing my eyes and letting out a sigh as I tried to get comfortable for the long vigil ahead. I swear that these damn infirmary chairs had to have been designed by a sadistic chiropractor looking to drum up more business. You would think chairs in a medical environment would be ergonomically contoured to promote proper spinal alignment. But no, these metallic nightmares had no lumbar support whatsoever. Well, a sore back was the least of my worries right now. I wished it were my only worry.
My perception of time must have been skewed by the stress because if asked I would have said Elizabeth was only gone a minute. It seemed I had only just closed my eyes when I heard her clearing her throat to get my attention. Looking up, I saw her standing in front of me with a cafeteria tray loaded with food.
"Oh, you're back. That was quick."
"I was gone almost thirty minutes." She set the tray down on a small table next to the chairs and nodded towards the operating room doors. "Any word yet?"
"No, and I expect it will be awhile yet." My stomach began to rumble at the sight of the nearby food, reminding me it had been a long time since breakfast and the power bar I had on the planet. I looked over at the tray and pointed. "What did you get?"
"Some mashed potatoes, vegetables, meatloaf--don't ask me to guess what the mystery meat is--and chocolate pudding. Oh, and I got us both some fresh coffee." She handed me a streaming mug as I snagged the pudding cup off the tray. Ah yes, caffeine and chocolate, the food of the gods that kept us going in the science labs. I like to think of coffee as nirvana in a cup. I took a sip of the liquid energy, feeling its warmth slide down my throat.
"Thanks." I replied in gratitude as I wrapped my fingers around the mug filled with my own personal taste of heaven.
She half smiled in response before becoming lost in her own quiet thoughts. The two of us sat watching the doors before us, wondering what was transpiring just beyond them. I picked idly at the plate of food on the tray, but didn't really have much of an appetite. Strange for me I know, but even I at times could be off my feed. Gulping down the rest of the coffee, I slouched back down in the chair and once again leaned my head back for support as I closed my eyes and watched the events of the last few hours replay in my mind.
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew someone was tugging my arm and insistently calling my name.
"Rodney, wake up!"
"Huh? What's the matter? What's going on?" I snapped awake suddenly and sat up in the chair I had previously been slouched in. Feeling wetness on my lower face, I swiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, surreptitiously wiping away the residue of drool. Damn, I must have fallen asleep with my mouth open again.
Elizabeth was nudging me in the elbow as she nodded towards the operating room doorway. "Carson's coming out. John must be out of surgery."
The two of us stood and rushed over to the doctor, eager for news on the colonel's condition.
"Carson, is he going to be all right?" Elizabeth beat me to the punch, asking him the question foremost on our minds.
"It was a bit close for comfort, I'll tell you that, but aye, I believe he will pull through." Beckett sighed as he pulled his hand through his hair. "The bullet hit a rib and deflected upward where it punctured his lung, and lodged close to his heart. He almost bled out before we managed to repair all the damage."
"That can't be good. Will he make a full recovery?" Christ, Sheppard had had a bullet near his heart, and I had been dragging him through a mile of forest. What had I been thinking? I could have hastened his demise if the bullet had shifted even a fraction of an inch during that jolting journey. Then again, what choice did I have? If we hadn't gotten back to the jumper when we did, he would have bled to death on the planet. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place.
"Well, it was a dicey place to have to extract the bullet, I admit. But the colonel was very, very lucky that the fragment did not nick the aorta. If it had, you would have never gotten him back to Atlantis in time to save him. We had a rough enough time as it was pulling him through the blood loss and shock." Beckett's eyes reflected the concern he felt for our injured friend.
"Can we see him?" I asked impatiently. Not that I doubted that Carson pulled off yet another medical miracle, but I needed to see for myself that Sheppard was still alive. My brain couldn't quite process the fact that John was going to be fine unless I saw him.
"Aye, but only for a moment. He's still unconscious and should be for a while. However, I will let you see him briefly. Come with me then." He beckoned us to follow him into the next room where his staff had settled Sheppard into an infirmary bed. He left us alone while he went to presumably give instructions to his staff concerning the colonel's care.
I tried to ignore all the equipment situated around his bed. It was disconcerting enough to see Sheppard lying so pale and still, his chest swathed in bandages, and his body attached to numerous wires connecting him to the various machines monitoring his vital signs. An IV line ran down one arm and a transfusion line was connected to his other, resupplying him with the life-giving fluid. I swallowed nervously as I watched the red substance slowly dripping from the bag suspended on a pole next to the bed into the line connected to Sheppard's forearm. I had seen enough blood today spilling out of the colonel; I did not want to see more flowing into him to remind me of how much he had lost.
I turned away from my examination of the transfusion bag to see Elizabeth looking intently at Sheppard's unconscious form, her eyes slightly misted with a telltale wetness. As if aware of my scrutiny, she looked away for a moment and blinked back the tears before returning my gaze. With a faint smile and nod, the professional mask was back in place, and her inner turmoil safely stowed until later when she could deal with the emotions in private.
"Hey, he's going to be fine. Beckett said so, and I've never known him to lie. Complain yes, threaten yes, but never lie." I tried to reassure her. "Besides, you know Sheppard is like a Timex watch. He takes a licking and keeps on ticking."
She smiled at that before becoming serious once again. "This time. But I worry someday he will walk out through that gate and not come back. One day his luck will run out."
"Someday, maybe. But that someday is not today. The truth is, none of us really know when our time is up. I've learned in this galaxy especially, it's best not to dwell on tomorrow. Just take each day as it comes and hope for things to work out in your favor."
"When did you get so optimistic?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and tilted her head as she pondered my words.
"Sheppard tends to rub off on people, whether you want him to or not. The man is nothing if not persistent." I replied truthfully. Sheppard did teach me to be more accepting of situations, of people, and of life in general. He taught me many things without even trying, things I hoped made me a better man and a better human being.
"That he is." She murmured softly as she gently placed her hand over one of his.
As we stood by the colonel's bedside, Beckett came back into the room to check on his patient. After examining the monitor displays, he jotted down some notes on the medical chart next to the bed before speaking.
"The colonel will be under sedation until morning. So off with you two for now. He's in good hands so don't be worrying your pretty heads about him. Go on now. Out. Out." Carson shooed us off with the promise we could visit Sheppard again later.
"Come on, Rodney. You can brief me on what happened on the planet in the meantime. We can come back after you've filed your mission report. " Elizabeth held her hand out for me to follow her as we left the infirmary.
I wasn't looking forward to writing up this mission report, but I best get it over and done with. It was time to face the music on everything that had gone wrong on M5J-346, a planet I never wanted to see again. I took one last look back at Sheppard's sleeping form, then sighed as I headed out the door after Elizabeth as she departed for her office.
I came back to the infirmary early the next morning. So early in fact, the rest of Atlantis was still asleep except for the graveyard shift in the control room and the nighttime medical staff. When Carson said I could come back in the morning, he probably meant around 7 or 8. It was 4:00 am, but that technically counted as morning, so I could use that as my excuse if Beckett attempted to keep me out of the sick bay. As if he would even try.
Sheppard was trying to win the record for most infirmary visits of any expedition member on Atlantis. Or so it seemed at times. I had racked up quite a few stays in the medical bay myself, but I couldn't hold a candle to our injury-prone soldier boy. Sheppard was a patient so often, I swear Beckett was going to start charging him rent on a bed. Suffice it to say, the doctor had enough past experience in the matter to know that whenever Sheppard was in his care, one of his team members would hold vigil. He now took it in stride that we would invariably take shifts by Sheppard's bedside, so that our friend was never alone. The Scotsman had long since given up trying to convince us to sleep in our own quarters. Besides, he slept on a cot in his office whenever one of us was injured or ill. To tell us not to do the same would be calling the kettle black.
Elizabeth had taken the overnight watch so I could get some sleep. Right. Like I would really rest while Sheppard was in intensive care. Who was she trying to kid? I tossed and turned, then spent the last hour pacing in my room. Finally, I had decided to give up all pretense of sleeping and came back here. I grabbed my laptop before leaving my quarters so I could do some work while sitting next to Sheppard. Commandeering the currently vacant chair, I settled into it alongside his bed. He lay surrounded by the clutter of tubes, wires, and machinery that were the tools of Carson's trade. The click-click of my computer keys and the steady beep of the heart monitor sounded abnormally loud in the relative silence of the darkened room.
Of course, the sound alerted Carson to my presence. The man had the aural acuity of a border collie. Such sensitive hearing came in handy when either herding sheep or checking up on patients from across the room. From what I could gather, both talents were second nature to our Highland healer. Hearing the husky, guttural noise of a throat being cleared, I glanced up to see a bedraggled, bleary-eyed doctor standing with his arms crossed, giving me a look that would make most people run for the hills in terror.
"Rodney! Just what do you think you're doing back here, laddie? Didn't you hear me tell you to go get some rest? Do you know what time it is? It's still the middle of the night and you should be sleeping like any other sane person is doing." Carson shook his head at me in exasperation as he barely stifled a yawn.
"It's 4:30. Technically, Carson, it's already morning. Albeit, it's very early I grant you, but it's still morning. And since you are awake yourself, I take it you're not counted among the sane population according to your aforementioned parameters of behavior, hmm?" I leveled my best 'so sue me' glare back at him.
"I am awake because your typing bloody woke me up, you daft bugger! Don't you ever sleep? Am I going to have to cut you completely off caffeinated beverages or do I have to resort to heavy sedation to make you stay in your bed for the night? I have large bore needles, and I know how to use them." He warned in a semi-gruff tone. The man was incredibly cranky when sleep-deprived.
"Yes, yes, I got some sleep. But now I'm awake, so I thought I might as well come back here and sit with the colonel. Good thing I did too, since it seems Elizabeth has abandoned her post." I replied as I pointed to the chair by the bedside.
"Because I finally convinced her that the colonel was doing just fine, and she wasn't helping him a bit if she were exhausted. She went off to bed in her own quarters two hours ago. Now there is someone who understands when it is wise to follow a chief medical officer's advice, unlike some stubborn people I know." Carson put his hands on his hips for emphasis.
"Fine. I will promise to get some rest a little later once someone else takes a turn at bedside vigil. Will that be satisfactory?" I asked, trying to get him off my case. Carson could show more tenacity on some issues than a bulldog guarding his favorite bone.
"Aye, all right. As long as you do get at least seven hours of uninterrupted sleep today, or I will be introducing you to the business end of a very large syringe loaded with the strongest tranquilizer in the dispensary."
"Okay, point taken. I just needed to see that Sheppard was still okay. I won't stay long." I promised him as I sat down again to resume my watch over the colonel.
"Right then. I will be holding you to your promise to get some sleep. I plan on doing the same." He quickly scanned the monitor readouts to check the colonel's vital signs before leaving us alone once again.
Before resuming my typing, I glanced at Sheppard as he lay still unresponsive amid the clutter of machinery. Although his face was more pale than normal, the dark circles had faded from under his eyes, and the EKG monitor displayed a regular and strong heartbeat. Intellectually I knew sleep was the best thing for his healing body, but psychologically I wanted him to awaken and assure me everything was going to be just fine. Carson had said more than once that even in the state of unconsciousness, comatose patients often were aware on some level of people conversing with them. So I spoke to my friend in the hope that he could hear me.
"I wish that you would plan on waking up soon, because this chair is killing my butt. Why is it that being in your presence always causes pain to that part of my anatomy? Oh, and Carson is threatening me with needles again. The man is sadistic. But what do you expect from someone who likes haggis? So if you want to save me from becoming Beckett's practice pincushion for his voodoo rituals, you'd better snap to it and regain consciousness." I muttered half to myself, not expecting a response from the prone form before me.
The slight movement of his hand against the sheet and a hint of flutter of his eyelids caught me by surprise. His eyes slowly opened as a soft groan escaped his lips. I called out to Carson to get back in here as the colonel gradually focused on his surroundings as full awareness sank in.
"McKay, is that you?" His voice sounded faint and gravelly as if it still hurt to speak.
"In the flesh, Colonel."
Beckett arrived back to the injured man's bedside, looking happy to see his patient awake and lucid. Taking out his penlight, he examined Sheppard's pupils and asked him a few questions to test his neurological responses.
"Ah, Colonel. It's good to see you awake. Do you know what happened and where you are, son?"
"Last I checked I was Lt. Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force. And this looks like the infirmary on Atlantis. Now can I have some water?"
"Good. Sorry to say, but ice chips will have to suffice for now, Colonel." Always prepared, Carson managed to have some at the ready and fed them to Sheppard, who accepted them gratefully.
"How are you feeling? Are you in pain?" Carson asked as he checked the drip on the IV line and jotted down the latest vital sign readings on his medical chart.
"Chest and side hurts like a son-of-a-gun. But considering I should be dead, I can't complain." Sheppard winced as Carson checked the drainage tubes snaking out from under the sheets.
Beckett nodded in sympathy as he injected some of his happy-juice into the IV port. "It's to be expected after being shot and having major surgery, I'm afraid. I'll be giving you something to ease the pain and help you sleep. That should be making you feel much better, son."
"Thanks, Carson." Sheppard closed his eyes briefly against the discomfort before opening them again.
"Aye, glad to be of help. I'll let Rodney see you for a bit longer, then you need to rest. You have a lot of healing to do, and listening to this bloody fool yap his mouth off will not be conductive to doing either." He shot me a sly wink over his shoulder before patting the colonel's shoulder and departing back to his office, no doubt to notify Elizabeth that the colonel had regained consciousness.
"Hmm, Carson has as bad a sense of humor as you do, I'm sorry to say. He just doesn't appreciate the words of true wisdom and insight that emanate from these lips." I said glibly as I pointed to my mouth.
Sheppard gave me one of his habitual eye rolls. "Whatever would I do without your infinite font of knowledge, McKay?"
I waved my hand in the air. "Probably languish in ignorance."
"Heard somewhere that that was supposed to be bliss." He replied as he tried to shift to a more comfortable position.
I adjusted the angle of the bed until he nodded in relief. "Bliss is overrated. Besides, I have seen my share of unhappy idiots. Look at Kavanaugh for instance. He is a prime example of a miserable moron if I ever saw one."
"Okay, I'll agree with you there."
Seeing how tired he looked, I was reminded how much he needed to rest if he wanted to make a full recovery.
"Well, you'd better plan on having a speedy convalescence. I would like to be able to get back to my lab so I can get some real work done. Who knows what havoc my underlings could be causing in my absence while I am busy playing nursemaid to you. If they blow up the lab, I am holding you responsible."
"Not to worry, McKay. Your lab rats are the least of your concerns. You're still the king when it comes to causing explosions and mass destruction." Sheppard whispered hoarsely. Even injured and drugged to the gills, the man felt it necessary to reply with a touch of sarcasm. Maybe I had influenced him as much as he did me.
"Ah, flattery will get you nowhere, Colonel. You'll wish you had my superior knowledge of bomb building the next time you are inclined to play demolition squad with the C4. Mark my words. You'll come begging for my assistance as usual." I retorted smugly.
"Speaking of assistance, you saved my ass out there."
"More like I was the one who got you shot in the first place. If I hadn't insisted we go it alone and we had brought more military back-up, maybe those locals would not have been so eager to use us as target practice."
"Not your fault, Rodney. You didn't force me to go against my better judgment and not take a couple of marines with us into an unknown situation. I'm the military head of this expedition, and I should have known it was a bad idea. I could have gotten you killed."
"Wouldn't have happened. Not with your disturbing tendency to jump into the path of discharging firearms. You took a bullet meant for me. As much as I am grateful for your need to be a hero, could you be a little less self-sacrificing for once?" I felt a lump forming in my throat as the memory of Sheppard throwing himself between me and the shooter flashed before my eyes.
Sheppard gave me an intense look before tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling tiles. "It's my job to protect everyone on Atlantis, McKay. It's what I do."
"Sometimes you take the meaning of your name too literally. The shepherd watching over your appointed flock. You're going to get yourself killed one of these days. The law of averages will catch up with you." I admonished him.
Yeah, I guess I cut it close this time. Which reminds me, it was because of you that I made it off that planet alive. Thanks for watching my back, McKay. I'm lucky to have you on my team." The colonel's green eyes met mine as he lifted his hand off the sheet and reached over to grasp my own in a weak handshake.
I clasped his hand back and nodded back at him before releasing it. He dropped his hand back onto the bed and leaned his head down against the pillow, his eyes beginning to slowly close as fatigue overtook his healing body.
Watching him drift back off to sleep, I murmured to myself. "You got that wrong, Sheppard. I am the lucky one, for fate gave me a friend like you."
The End.