Chapter 3
A Place Called Home
Weeks must have passed since he woke up, surprised and vaguely annoyed to find himself still alive, but how many, he couldn't tell. Time didn't mean anything to him anymore, the bastards had taken his watch, and here there were no days or nights, just walled in darkness; some days he felt like he had always been here and that his memories were just fantasies. No one ever opened the door, no one ever spoke to him; if it wasn't for the food that was occasionally pushed through the slot at the bottom of the door, he would have thought they had forgotten about him, or that the universe outside had simply ceased to exist.
They had taken his clothes too and replaced them with a thin shirt and trousers, leaving him bare foot. They had taken his dog tags, they had taken everything that identified him as being John, except one thing; they had left his sweatband. He didn't know why but it was still there on his wrist, tattered, bloody, but still there. It seemed silly that such a small thing could hold so much meaning for him but it was like a lifeline to the real world, the life he had before; before the world had consisted of these four walls. It was proof that he really was John Sheppard.
ooOoo
Eighteen days on the Daedalus felt like a year; she really didn't know how Caldwell and his crew stopped themselves going crazy. There was little in the way of paper work to do until she got back to the city, when she knew she'd be overwhelmed with it, and so she had found herself wandering aimlessly around the ship, trying to find something to keep herself occupied. She'd heard the life stories of half the Daedalus crew; bored with each other's company, they seemed relieved to have a new audience for their stories and anecdotes, some had proved to be talented narrators, others had proved mind-numbingly dull.
Colonel Caldwell had challenged her to games of chess or backgammon when he was off duty and she had even spent time with Hermiod who, she was surprised to discover, was actually something of a gossip. When she needed time to herself, she sat and reviewed the mission reports from the SGC detailing the ongoing conflict with the Ori. So far they were unaware of the existence of the Pegasus Galaxy but they had to be prepared for any eventuality.
This wouldn't be Steven Caldwell's last return trip to Atlantis with the Daedalus, he was still technically the ship's commander and would remain so until his next return to Earth, when it had been agreed that he would be officially confirmed as the military commander of Atlantis. Elizabeth hadn't challenged the decision, in fact she supported it; in the time she had known him she had gained a great deal of respect for the Colonel and, the better she got to know him, the more she valued his input. He was a good man and he would do his best for Atlantis and she could ask no more than that.
As soon as they had begun the approach to the Atlantean planet, she had gone to the bridge to watch. Standing up close to the panoramic window of the bridge, it almost felt like she was flying down through the atmosphere and across the wide expanse of ocean and then, rising up out of the water like a magical citadel from a fairytale, there was Atlantis. Her heart swelled with pride and joy at the sight of the city, her city; she was home.
ooOoo
Stepping out of the Daedalus and pausing to breathe in the cool sea air, she realised just how much she had missed Atlantis. The gentle breeze encircling her felt almost like an embrace, gently blowing her dark curls around her face. As she stood drinking in the moment, she heard Rodney's voice above the bustle of the crew disembarking the ship. The tide of people were going against him.
"Excuse me! Excuse me! Important person trying to get through here." The crew continued to jostle past him. "What? Am I talking to myself?" She laughed gently under her breath; yes, it was definitely good to be home.
"Rodney, good to see you." Stumbling through the last wave of people and straightening himself up, he smiled at her, a softer version of that familiar self important expression.
"You too. How was Earth?"
"Oh you know, still there. How about Atlantis? I hope you haven't blown up anything too important while I've been gone." He narrowed his eyes at her, and she looked back in mock innocence, her eyebrows slightly raised and a playful smile on her lips.
"It's nice to know you have such faith in me. A guy blows up five sixths of a solar system one time and he's never allowed to forget it."
"Well, we have to remind you you're not perfect sometimes. So really, what have I missed? Any trouble?"
"A little. Lorne's team had a run in with some Wraith a couple of weeks ago but nothing they couldn't handle." He dismissed the incident with a wave of his hand before a more serious expression took over. "Edison's team had a close call though; ran into some less than friendly locals. Granger was shot twice in the leg but Beckett tells me he's making a good recovery."
"Do we know anything about the people who attacked them?"
"Not really, we were told they were traders but if that's the case they need to work on their customer service."
Elizabeth furrowed her brow. "What else?"
"Well, the exploration of the central western section of the city is going well; we've discovered what we think was a school room, the linguists and anthropologists are having a field day translating children's stories."
"I bet, I wouldn't mind a look myself."
"Each to her own, all seems rather pointless to me." She shook her head. "Well, it does. What are we going to learn from the Ancient equivalent of Little Red Riding Hood?"
"You can learn a great deal about a culture from the stories they tell their children." He didn't look convinced and she knew she'd never be able to persuade him, so she changed the subject. "Anything else I should know?"
"Not really. Oh, there is one thing, Dr Kavanaugh is currently in the infirmary with a concussion." Rodney's blue eyes shone with amusement and a smug smile appeared on his face.
"What happened?"
"I thought it might do him good to pay a visit to the kids on M7G-677. Unfortunately they got a little too…playful…with him." Elizabeth caught herself laughing.
"That's not funny."
"Oh, I don't know, it kinda is." Smirking, he fell into a leisurely pace beside her as they wandered into the city.
"Nothing else. No…news?" She already knew the answer but couldn't help herself asking and felt guilty when she saw his shoulders visibly slump.
"No." They walked in silence for a while, each of them lost in thought. She knew he blamed himself, even though no one else did, but she also knew there was nothing she could say to make him believe otherwise.
When finally he did speak again his upbeat tone of voice sounded forced. "Well, some of us have work to do." He reached out and patted her arm awkwardly, showing affection was not something he was particularly good at, which to Elizabeth made the gesture all the more touching. "Good to have you home."
"Thank you, Rodney. It's good to be back."
ooOoo
It had become something of a ritual; when he heard their footsteps coming to bring him food he would lay flat on the floor, his head on one side against the cold stone, so he could see through the gap that the tray would be pushed through. All he ever saw was a hand place down the tray and a booted foot push it through. The only real comfort he got from this was the fact that it was a human hand - the way he saw it that had to be a bonus. To begin with he had called out to them, at first wisecracks but that had soon degenerated to screaming abuse and eventually just begging for them to say a word, to say anything, even just to tell him to shut up. It felt like a lifetime since he had heard another voice; now he rarely made the effort.
Opposite his cell he could see another one but that stood empty. He had watched for hours in the hope of seeing movement but he never did and the guard never left food there. The footsteps echoed down the corridor - at least in his mind he imagined it being a corridor, in truth he didn't know what was beyond the door, had never even seen the faces of his captors. The boots stopped outside the door, boots so shiny they could only belong to a soldier, and a hand came into view, setting down the tray. A long scar ran across the palm of the hand; this was his usual guard. The hand retracted and the tray was kicked through. He watched as the feet disappeared, heavy footfalls moving away from him, the tiny piece of human contact he clung to had passed for another day.
Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he reached out and dragged the tray toward him. He looked at the dark stew in the bowl and the grey flatbread. The first time he'd eaten it he'd retched but he'd soon discovered the easiest way was to swallow it quickly, not giving himself time to taste it, and to never try and work out what was in it.
ooOoo
It had taken her half an hour to get back to her quarters, being stopped by at least a dozen people on the way. Teyla and Carson were waiting near the transporter and she had hugged them both, thinking that it was strange that it had taken something like this to strengthen their friendships.
Carson had his mother hen face on, worried that she would go straight to her office and throw herself into work again, especially when she insisted on accompanying him to the infirmary to check on Granger's progress, but, after seeing the sergeant for herself, she assured him that she intended to go straight to her quarters, shower, and then sleep for at least ten hours. He didn't look convinced but at least he stopped nagging.
Even Ronon had made the effort to see her, though he claimed that his presence in the corridor between the transporter and her quarters was purely coincidental and that he had forgotten she was returning so soon. She knew in his own way he was checking up on her and letting her know he was still around.
Once she finally got through the door, and it had closed behind her, she dropped her bags on the floor and slumped down on the bed, exhausted. She needed a good night's sleep. Somehow she never quite managed that on the Daedalus. Most of the unpacking could wait until the morning, she decided, and reaching down, she unzipped one of the bags and pulled out a couple of paperback novels she'd bought herself. Pure fluff of course, and she'd never admit to reading them, but she was entitled to her guilty pleasures the same as everyone else.
Opening the cover of one of them, she took out the envelope that had arrived at the SGC two days before she departed. Opening it, she found herself smiling again; John looked back at her from the photograph, baby faced and floppy haired, but still undeniably John, that same lazy grin, the same hint of mischief in his eyes. Turning it over she looked at the message John's father had written on the back.
'We don't leave people behind.'