Title: Drowning, or the Lack Thereof
Author: Waldo.
Pairing: Sheppard/Beckett
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Death Story
Summary: Aiden Ford finally makes it home.
Notes: Set some ambiguous time in season 3, but there are no S3 spoilers. This is all spec.

Drowning, or the Lack Thereof
by Waldo.

One of Teyla's people who'd been off-world trading had brought the message. A man had staggered into a village, sick and injured, terminally so. He had apparently used the last of his energy to get through the gate and hand two small pieces of metal to the first person he had encountered. On one side had been some words, embossed in a language the people of the planet didn't know. On the edges of the back there had been six symbols from the Ring of the Ancestors etched in. The addition of the point of origin would allow whoever had them to dial Atlantis.

When Araesis returned from his trading expedition, he asked immediately to speak to Teyla.

So it was Teyla who handed John Sheppard Aiden Ford's dog tags.

A reconnaissance mission brought back Ford's body, wasted and scarred from a year and a half of running from and then back to the Wraith. Track marks were still visible in both arms.

Ronon had carried Ford back and even when the medical team standing by offered to take his burden, Ronon simply shook his head and took Aiden to the infirmary himself. He'd long ago learned that for some reason these people needed to know both how and why a person died to be able to move past it. He'd spent a night discussing it with Teyla after they'd believed Lorne and his team to be dead. Ronon didn't need the reasons; dead was dead and there was no reason to dwell on what couldn't be changed. But he respected that Sheppard, especially, wouldn't be able to cope with the loss of one of his men without having a full understanding of what caused that loss. So he brought Ford to the medical section of Atlantis.

In the main control room, Rodney was standing at one of the consoles, either talking to the tech or looking over something on the computer, John wasn't sure. Teyla had retreated to her quarters. John stood in the middle of the room not sure exactly what came next. He knew he needed to talk to Elizabeth, but he'd seen her on the balcony, watched her face as she watched Ronon carry Ford's body through the door. He'd only be stating the obvious, and he didn't feel like he had the strength for it.

Finally Elizabeth came down to him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Let's talk in my office," she told him quietly.

The story was a simple one. Ford had apparently gated to a friendly world, some of the villagers remembered him passing through two or three times before, looking for a meal and place to sleep. Always gone the next day, usually leaving more payment than was required. The last time he came through he'd all but fallen through the gate and two men coming back from working in the field had found him. They'd taken him back to the village where he'd handed over his dogtags. He'd apparently tried to explain what they were for, but had begun coughing so severely he began bringing up blood. The man who had taken him in had turned to get him some water, and when he turned back Ford had been dead.

They'd shown his tags to anyone who came through the gate for the past two weeks. No one had understood what they were for until Aerasis had come to trade for the sweet wine the villagers were known for and had recognized them as the identification tags the military men and women of Atlantis wore. The village priest showed him where Aiden had been buried and Aerasis came back with the tags and the story.

Sheppard and his team came back with the body.

When John was done explaining, Elizabeth looked up from where she'd been studying the ceremonial bowl on her desk. She noticed for the first time the streaks of sweat and dirt on John's face, his disheveled clothes. He'd exhumed the body himself.

Diplomacy had a tendency to sound like platitudes when there was way of changing the outcome of a situation, so she was left with little to say. No way to ease the hurt, the feeling of failure. "I'll make an announcement when I get Carson's report. Why don't you go get cleaned up," she suggested quietly.

John just nodded and left. As he reached the door Elizabeth called out, "John, this isn't your fault. You did everything you could for him."

Without turning to face her, Sheppard simply said, "Well, obviously 'everything I could' wasn't nearly enough." Before she could say anything to that, John was gone.

John went back to his quarters and took a quick shower and threw on a clean uniform and then headed straight for the infirmary. He wanted to know what ultimately had killed his second in command. He wanted to know how badly he'd have to lie to Aiden's cousin and grandparents.

Doctors Carson Beckett and Carolyn Biro were both huddled around a computer when he came in. Aiden's body was under a sheet on the nearby table. While the doctors were engaged, John slipped up to the exam table. Aiden's hair poked out from the end and John found himself gently stroking it as he warred with the anger, grief and the feeling of utter uselessness. He didn't move the sheet. Besides the damage done by the Wraith and a year and half of enzyme use, he'd been buried wrapped in nothing more than a canvas shroud and his clothes, what John had seen while exhuming him had been enough to let him know that he didn't want to see the rest.

"I'm sorry," he whispered knowing it was far too little and far too late.

He bit his lip and forced the tears back. He had no idea that finality would be so painful. He'd spent so many nights praying for an end to the endless pursuit one way or another, but now that the end was here, it was more than he felt immediately prepared to cope with.

He was startled out of his contemplations by a gentle hand on his back. He turned to find Carson standing next to him.

"Let's go talk in my office. Carolyn's going to finish up with him in the pathology lab."

John nodded and let Carson steer him into the quieter confines of his new office. As John dropped into a chair, Carson dropped the black curtains that covered the windows that allowed him to monitor the main ward before he pulled his chair up to where John sat.

"Are you okay?" he asked him quietly, gently holding one hand in his.

John shrugged. "I always figured that it would be easier knowing… one way or the other. Either getting him back so you could make him better, or at least knowing that he isn't out there…" John waved his hand around ambiguously, not sure how he planned to end that sentence.

Carson gently caressed John's knuckles with his thumb. "Carolyn should have some answers for us in a while. But I think perhaps there may be some other information for you."

John looked up, perplexed, but as Carson reached into the top pocket of his lab coat and drew out a piece of folded paper, he suddenly understood. And felt a little nauseas.

"This was in his pocket." Carson handed over the note and stood up. "I'll give you a minute."

As Carson started to head for the door, John's hand shot out and caught his. "Don't!" he yelled a little louder than he meant to. "Stay here, okay?" He was sure he didn't want to face the recriminations he was sure the letter would hold alone.

Carson perched on the arm of John's chair and lightly rubbed his shoulders, waiting silently.

John wasn't sure how long he sat there staring at the folded paper, memorizing every stroke that formed the words Lt. Col. John Sheppard – Atlantis. He stared at the rough sketches of the gate symbols for Atlantis drawn under his name.

"You don't have to do this now if you aren't ready," Carson said quietly.

John shook himself and took a deep breath. "No, I need to know." He leaned a little closer to Carson as he unfolded the note.

John,

I never learned to swim as a kid. I was always afraid of the water. I always thought the worst way to die would be drowning. Now I know surviving is worse. At least surviving like this. I've taken myself off the enzyme. I know that if I came home back to Atlantis that Dr. Beckett would do his best to save me, but I'm beyond saving at this point. I can't get enough. An entire Wraith full of enzyme is barely enough to take the edge off anymore.

I know I screwed up, running off like I did. I've heard that McKay took a massive dose and survived. And that Teyla and Ronon came off it okay. If I'd stayed, I know you all would have done anything you could have to help me.

So I have no one to blame for my death but myself. Since falling in the ocean I've done nothing but make one bad decision after another. Tell Dr. Beckett I'm sorry for shooting at him. And for strangling him. And tell Dr. McKay that I'm sorry for shooting at him too. And for drugging him. And everyone else I drugged. Ah hell, if I list everything I'm sorry for at this point I'm going to need another ream of paper. Just know that I truly am sorry and would do anything to take back the things I've done to the people I had the privilege to call friends. Maybe even family.

I only have one request. If you're reading this, I'm going to assume that my body made it back to you, so please cremate me and send me home. My grandparents will need something. I know I could never let them see me like this, but they'll need some kind of closure. And even though we both know it'll be a lie, tell them I died painlessly. We know better, but knowing the truth won't help them.

I'm sorry I couldn't do better by you. I know you put a lot of faith in me when you had no reason to. I never meant to betray that.

Aiden Ford

Carson was handing him a tissue as he folded the note back up. He wiped his eyes and took several calming breaths. "It wasn't his fault."

Carson looked down at him, waiting for John to explain, but not pushing. John handed him the letter. "He blames himself. But it wasn't his fault."

Carson gently pet John's hair with his free hand as he read the letter. He was sniffling a little too when he was done. "Why don't you go wash your face and take a little time for yourself. When Dr. Biro has her report we'll meet with Elizabeth."

John scrubbed his face with his hands. "Can you get out of here for a little while?"

Carson thought for a few seconds. He was technically on duty, but there were no patients in the infirmary and nothing on his desk that couldn't wait. "I'll need to stay on my radio, but certainly. What were you thinking of?"

"I just want to go for a walk… and I don't want to be by myself right now. It's a nice day… maybe we can go out onto the south pier or something." John looked so hopeful, so needy at that point, that Carson knew he wouldn't be able to deny him anything for a while.

Carson kissed the top of his head, "Let me go tell Carolyn to radio me when she has her results together." With that Carson slipped out, giving John a minute to get himself together before they went for that walk.