Understudy

Author: Cheryl W

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CHAPTER 5: Chance Encounters

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Jerking awake, John's heart pounded in his chest and he was drawing in air like a drowning man. Rolling over and slipping off the bed, he huddled on the floor, back against the bed, hand still tied to the IV, bed sheets coiled around him, wringing with sweat just like he was. Blinking away the visage of the desert, the Afghanistan one and the Vegas one, he saw the metallic grey of the infirmary come into focus. Closing his eyes, he rested his head back against the bed. Damn nightmare, a twisted one at that. Crashing the copter in Afghanistan one moment and then the Wraith was there coming for him while he was trapped in the crashed bird, easy prey.

He blamed his talk with McKay for dredging up memories of his last military tour and everyone's fascination to talk about what happened out in the Vegas desert, like it was a fun topic for him to remember again and again and again. His mind was always fertile ground for nightmares as it was, before aliens stepped out of the comic books and into the world he lived in. It was why he liked playing poker all night: it didn't give his mind a chance to recall things in the scant hours of exhaustive sleep he allowed himself each night.

And now he here he was drugged to the gills and in the grips of sleep so deep it was like drowning when all he wanted to do was reach the surface, wake up. Not to mention being on display like some specimen they'd found. He hadn't missed the people who had peeked behind the curtain at him either, like he was stranger than a freaking alien race roaming on earth dressed as a goth rocker. Some peekers had dared to approach him, asked the asinine question of how he was feeling, gave lame wishes for his recovery but he wasn't fooled, knew what the attraction was: they had either met another Sheppard or heard grandiose stories about the other Sheppards. Either way, they thought they knew him, understood him, had some kind of connection to him, just like Ronon and McKay wrongly assumed.

Jerking the IV out for the second time that day, John used the bed and the nearby cabinet to pull himself upright, had to lean heavily against the cabinet a moment before he convinced his legs they could hold his weight. Hated that the world spun and he felt lightheaded but willed it down to a slight shimmering in his vision. Quietly pushing the curtain back, he eyed up the cart he had seen earlier, the one bearing fresh gowns. It wasn't his jeans and boots but it'd do better than a sweat drenched gown that was clinging uncomfortably to his cooling skin. Raising a hand to brace against the wall, he grimaced in pain as it pulled on the bullet wound and the subsequent muscles it had done harm to.

It was more a geriatric stumbling than walking to the cart, but then he pulled off his wet gown, shivered a little in the antiseptic chill of the infirmary before he tied the top strings on a new gown then slid it over his head and managed to get his arms in the sleeves, was glad someone had graced him with boxer shorts so his butt wouldn't be blowing in the wind. All in all, it was exhaustive, almost had him stumbling back to the comfort of a bed to lie down again…until he remembered the shards of his dream, of the memories he could never outrun but he tried to anyways.

Seeing that the night staff was in the back wing of the infirmary, he gave himself fair odds to make it out clean. His twenty steps to the exit were probably akin to watching a sloth run for its life. In other words: pathetic. But he made it, course he had to lean heavily against the wall just outside the door, frustratingly sweating again and his vision going a little white around the edges and he was starting to wish that the pain medication was still pumping into his veins. Crap but getting shot hurt. Now more than when it happened. Barely felt anything when the bullet zinged into his chest, only the vague notion that the bullet that broke the trailer window had to go somewhere, looked down and saw the cylinder stain in his shirt, the beginning of a sting of fire but then he was running and there was more shooting, glass showering over him, gun running dry, legs failing him….unarmed, helpless, about to be another sucked dry corpse in the desert.

Hissing in a breath, John fought down the memories and pushed off the wall only to stumble a step, until his shoulder came up against the wall's support. So he kind of walked, kind of slid against the wall but he was on the move, was getting away from all the stares, all the expectations, all the false 'you're such a hero' praise. Then the corridor divided and he had to make a decision, left or right, was contemplating that when a lithe striking brunette woman turned the corner and slowed to a stop at the sight of him, not in that 'shrieking away in terror at the escaped prisoner' look but that schoolmarm 'are you supposed to be out here without a hall pass' kind of narrow eyed inspection. When he made to keep moving, she put her 5' 2" body in his path.

"The scrubs are a dead giveaway that you're AWOL from the infirmary," her tone amused rather than cutting as was her small smirk. "Now you can claim you're delirious or…give me a really good reason I shouldn't be sic'ing Dr. Beckett on you."

Too exhausted to play games, John didn't try to step around her but leaned heavily against the wall, took a much needed breather and bluntly confessed, "I might go postal if I have to spend even another hour staring at that infirmary deco."

The woman's mouth flipped up into an amused smile and her eyebrow arched in playful agreement. "Yeah, the Daedalus designer was not about installing pleasing-to-the-eye specs. But I understand you've had a steady flow of visitors to distract you."

"People I don't know and who don't know me think we're pals because they met a rock star version of me in another universe," he bitterly categorized his guest list before he narrowed his eyes at her, tried to get her reaction on his too frank words. "I guess I should have asked if you fit in that category before I shot my mouth off."

"No, we have never met…in any universe," she assured him before she fell silent before coming to some kind of decision. "Well, we never met until right now. I'm Dr. Elizabeth Weir and I won't pretend to not know who you are."

"The disappointing hero knockoff?" John sardonically offered.

Surprise flickered a moment in her features at his words before she gave a, "Huh. Here I thought you were the man who singlehandedly saved Earth from a Wraith invasion."

Wiping the sweat from dripping into his eyes, John retorted, "I think the drones that blew up the Wraith and his galactic transistor radio did that."

She arched an eyebrow in amusement. "Ah…modesty."

"Reality," John inflexibly corrected. "Thanks for not dropping a dime on me," he said, hoping she got the point that he wanted her to move, that he was thanking her for something he wanted her to do. For a beat, she didn't move, eyed him up then she stepped out of his way and he began his slow trudge forward, had decided he could navigate the intersection without the wall's support and go left.

At his back, Weir called out in a light tone, "Fair warning: If they interrogate me under hot lights, I will give you up."

"I'll use my head start to my advantage then," he rejoined, taking that step away from the wall and trying hard not to sway, especially in front of an audience.

Seeing that he was heading toward the hallway that led only to the science wing, Elizabeth couldn't help intervening. "Not that I'm aiding and abetting but guest quarters are the other corridor and the 3rd room on the left is vacant."

Startled to get useful information, John stammered, "Ah…thanks" before spinning on his heel to change direction, was a move too fast for his overtaxed body and he felt himself toppling to the right, his vision going vertical on him.

Seeing the wounded man's staggering tilt to the right, Elizabeth dodged to Sheppard's right side, steadied his taller frame with her petite one. Looking up at his blanched sweat sheened face, their eyes met and she knew he expected her to use his weakness against him, march him back to the infirmary, a place he had put himself in considerable pain to escape. She warred with indecision before she gently pulled Sheppard's arm over her shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist, took on more of his weight. Though she could admit she was doing the wrong thing, she didn't steer him back around toward the infirmary. Instead she started to guide him down the hallway toward the crew quarters, registered the surprise in Sheppard's eyes when she checked his features for warning signs that she was hurting him. "Hate for you to pass out in the hallway. You might rat me out as an accomplice in your delirium," she wryly offered up as an explanation for her good Samaritan routine.

"I've been known to talk in my sleep," he joked back, fell silent until she had him at the door third on the left. "I'm fine from here." Slipping from her hold, he leaned against the door frame, suddenly felt self-conscious didn't want to have her witness him falling on his butt trying to get to the bed in the room. Wanted to bear that shame in private.

She nodded her head but before she left she gave him a colluding smile. "Next time we meet, I'll pretend it's for the first time."

John wryly retorted, "That'd be a new experience for this place." Then as she turned away, he called out, "Dr. Weir….thanks ..for…"

"Don't mention it. Really. Don't," she joked then she headed down the corridor turned the corner and left him to his so sought after solitude.

To his credit, he made it to the bed without crawling but his descent onto its contours was more a crumbling collapse than a dignified landing but he didn't care. He was away from prying eyes, uncomfortable conversations, ludicrous job offers and that sickening disinfectant smell of the infirmary. It was a sense memory, one of his time spent recuperating in a German hospital because he might have lived but he hadn't walked away unscathed from that doomed rescue mission. Course there were far worse smells, worse memories, like the stench of burning flesh as his helicopter went up in flames before exploding.

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Watching this John Sheppard make his painful, halting journey from the infirmary had been torture for Ronon. More than once the Satadan almost went to the man when he faltered. But he hadn't, had held himself back, knowing his help wouldn't be welcome, that this Sheppard would think his concern wasn't truly for him but was for the other Sheppard, the one he'd lost. Even in his own head, his own heart, Ronon couldn't make that discernment, so he could offer no judgement for this Sheppard's mistrust of his motives. So he remained a silent, unperceived shadow to the injured man's trek, witnessed when Sheppard's path crossed with Dr. Weir's with unease.

Honestly, he had expected Dr. Weir to be harsh with the man that she had fought against still having aboard the Daedalus. Instead of calling for security at the sight of the "unauthorized civilian" roaming the highly classified spaceship's corridors, she was gentle with Sheppard, even steadied him when he faltered, what Ronon ached to do and could not. At that, Ronon felt no jealous, only relief that someone was there to help the man in his weakness.

But he wondered at Weir's decision to not order Sheppard back to the confines of the infirmary, instead she supported Sheppard's taller frame with her own lithe strength right to the door of an available crew quarters. Her actions crumbled every prejudice Ronon had formulated about her. She was not the cold woman she had portrayed herself to be when she strongly vocalized her opinion that Sheppard shouldn't be on the Daedalus, should have been moved to an Earth hospital immediately following his transporter ride from the desert. But then again, maybe she was as he had concluded her to be and this John Sheppard, like his own, simply had a knack for getting into the hearts of some of the gruffest people. Ronon should know, he was one of John Sheppard's converts…and he was better for it…and he'd wager so was Dr. Weir after this encounter.

Passing Dr. Weir in the corridor, Ronon offered her a simple but meaningful, "Thank you for helping him." Then he approached the quarters Weir had deposited Sheppard to and listed at the closed door to ensure there were no thuds indicating the man had collapsed. Not hearing any alarming sounds emanating from the room, he leaned against the wall, would be there if the man needed him.

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Rodney went into his meeting with Dr. Weir with an agenda and he resolved that he wasn't going to take no for an answering. Before the new leader of Atlantis could even direct the conversation, Rodney blurted out, "I know you are opposed to John Sheppard joining the expedition but he'd be a great asset. Dr. Becket tested him, without his knowledge, of course, and he has a strong ATA gene presence, just like the other Sheppards did. That alone should sell you on the idea of him just being stationed at Atlantis. With his high concentration of the gene, we might be able to decode things even our computers working for four years have not accomplished. Not to mention he's an experienced combat pilot who used to work for special ops so his military skills are top notch. Yes, he has disciplinary issues but that can be knocked out of him."

"Knocked out of him," Elizabeth sardonically parroted back.

Rodney blushed at his misstep but plowed forward, "Well…whatever the military says when they reprogram one of their soldiers to be more "yes sir"."

Playing devil's advocate, Elizabeth prodded, "So you oppose free thinking, Dr. McKay?"

McKay's eyes widened at her implication. "What?! NO! None of this would be possible without free thinking. Wait….did you just indicate you liked John Sheppard's ability to NOT obey orders."

"Depends who gives the orders and what they are," she diplomatically answered, enjoyed seeing the usually unemotional McKay on the ropes.

"That's… well…interesting," Rodney slowly drawled, was reshuffling his debate now that Weir was throwing him different vibes. "I thought you were…..very verbally opposed to John Sheppard even remaining on the Daedalus to recover let alone joining the expedition but now you sound….less opposed," he almost ended his statement in a tone of a question.

Folding her hands together on her desk, Elizabeth faced down her senior science officer. "I've read the mission report, reviewed John Sheppard's records, interviewed his superiors and fellow soldiers and consulted Dr. Beckett about the status of his physical recovery. I may be …inclined to change my mind."

"Inclined?" McKay dazedly repeated back the word.

"I will give it serious consideration," she decreed.

It was finally sinking in to Rodney that his argument on John Sheppard's behalf wasn't needed after all. And that was a relief and yet baffling to him and his scientific mind never could let an anomaly go unanalyzed. "Can I be so bold as to ask what changed your mind?"

Elizabeth, thinking of her chance encounter with John Sheppard hours before in the hallway, him wearing the infirmary gown, looking so vulnerable, being so vulnerable, so ..weak, their conversation. "That's on a need to know basis," smirking as she said it, thought of her secrecy pact with Sheppard. But then again, she did rat him out, let Carson know where his wayward patient was but she had ordered the doctor to leave him in peace for the night unless he feared for the police detective's health.

She did, however, reassure the doctor that, if Sheppard was in pain, needed help, there was someone right outside his door, standing guard. Though the tall muscled man with dreadlocks came off more bouncer than protector, his words to her as he passed her in the hallway proved differently. "Thank you for helping him," and they were the first respectful not incensed words Ronon Dex had said to her and his sincerity…. affected her. Had her backtracking to watch as the imposing man listened at Sheppard's door a moment then, apparently not hearing any signs of distress from its occupant, leaned against the wall beside the room door and looked like he wouldn't budge even if the Daedalus plummeted from the sky.

Though Dr. Weir's comeback was absolutely no answer to the questions running through his head, Rodney happily conceded because he was getting what he wanted, sort of. "Oh…OK. Well….I'm pleased you're going to …considerate him for the expedition. Course there is one snag to all this: he's refusing to sign up. He didn't believe me when I said he would be allowed to fly the 302s, not to mention jumpers and Atlantis itself, which we didn't get into. He thinks that we will just stick him at a desk. Then there is his ludicrous notion that, if he refuses to the join the program, we will shove him in a dark prison cell so he can't spill the beans about the wraith."

Elizabeth found herself defending John Sheppard. "They are not entirely unfounded concerns, Dr. McKay. The military has been known to pull the bait and switch on job postings and Sheppard has been involved in black ops, he knows the consequences for intel breaches."

"Yes but we're not military…" at the tilt of her head he amended, "Ok, we half are but not…we wouldn't do that, either."

"You wouldn't, you mean." Getting an entirely new take on Dr. McKay since John Sheppard had entered the scene, first with McKay's championing Sheppard's admission into the Stargate Program and now the nearly protectiveness he was showing in regards to the Vegas police detective.

"No, I wouldn't!" Rodney's tone bordering on outrage at even the thought that he had lied to Sheppard about being able to fly. "I know he has no reason to trust my word but…I'm not trying to trick him or coerce him."

"But you do want to find the perfect argument to get him to join the expedition," Elizabeth said, recognized an urgency in McKay's request for Sheppard's inclusion to the Stargate Program and specifically Atlantis

"Absolutely," Rodney admitted without qualms.

"Because he has the gene, because he impressed you?" She pressed, even as she knew his intentions ran deeper than that, were more…personal.

"Certainly. Yes," Rodney stiffly answered.

"Dr. McKay, admit there is more to your desire to have him join the team," her tone gentle instead of interrogative.

Rodney almost sighed before he begrudgingly confessed, "Ok, yes, after meeting the other alternate universe Sheppard, hearing about Dex's Sheppard, I am ….partial to having our own Sheppard on the expedition. How can so many alternate universes have him involved in the fight against the wraith and that not be his destiny."

"Destiny?" She challenged back with a smirk. "I didn't think a scientist such as you would bandy about the word destiny and not mean it disdainfully."

Rodney's stiff stance wilted a bit as he admitted, "A year and half ago, you would be right. Before I stepped into another universe, before Ronon stepped into ours, until I met a remarkable man named John Sheppard who had saved Earth from the Wraith. Until Ronon talked of his Sheppard saving their Earth and now this Sheppard saving ours. I could run the numbers, the probability but…I don't have to. He's part of this, all of this, is meant to be."

There was a little scoffing incorporated in her words as she replied, "You make it sound like it's an obvious outcome."

"It is!" Rodney shot back, determined to convince Weir that Sheppard belonged on the Atlantis expedition.

"Apparently John Sheppard doesn't agree with your belief," she countered a bit of steel in her voice, like McKay wasn't getting that very important detail, needed to be reminded, strongly.

"But he has to!" Rodney exclaimed, clearly agitated that she and John Sheppard weren't taking his destiny theory to heart.

"There will be no shanghaiing him, Dr. McKay. He has to willingly sign up to join the expedition…" At Rodney's almost excited look as he grasp the direction her statement was heading, she stipulated, "Willingly signed up after you've made him fully aware of the extreme dangers, the stakes we are facing, that him flying again is in the package but lives will be in his hands again…and last time…things did not end well for those entrusted to his care."

McKay paled at her reference to Sheppard's Afghanistan fubar mission, as if the sins were his own. In a low but intense voice, he tested the truth of her early statement, didn't want her backing out on her word and causing him to promise Sheppard something he couldn't deliver. "But knowing that, you're still willing to green light him into the expedition?"

Weir paused, honestly couldn't logically explain away her change of heart in respect to John Sheppard, only that…he had made an impression on her, wasn't the cocky pilot she expected, was broken by his failures, took that weight and lived with it. And somehow she knew, he'd do all in his power to not lose lives again, that he would weigh the consequences even in doing what he felt was right. And hadn't she negotiated peace with people feeling the same things? Having suffered the consequences of wrong decisions and now she trusted them to use better judgement, be better in the future?! If she offered that trust to leaders deciding the fate of millions, shouldn't she offer it to a leader of military service personal like Sheppard? Didn't he deserve a second chance?

With decisiveness, she decreed, "If Sheppard agrees to join the Stargate Program, he'll have a place on Atlantis and yes, that means he'll get to fly 302s."

"Thank you Dr. Weir!" McKay enthused as he surged out of the chair and left their meeting.

"You still have to get his consent, Rodney!" she called after the man but she doubted he heard her. "And here I thought the excitement would begin after I got to my new assignment in Atlantis," she spoke aloud to herself. Something told her that John Sheppard entering her life, their lives, had already changed the path they had previously been on. She didn't know about destiny but she believed that people had the power to influence the people and the world around them and it seemed John Sheppard had that power in spades. And she was trusting her gut that told her that he was a force for good, and considering the bad forces they were up against, it certainly didn't hurt to stack the deck in her favor with another ace up her sleeve.

She almost chuckled at her metaphor. They had barely hovered over Vegas for a few hours and she was already using gambling lingo. And she had only spent a few minutes in John Sheppard's company and here she was putting her faith in him. But it wasn't just her, McKay and Ronon, they were taking the same leap of faith she was.

Now it was Sheppard's turn to either put his trust in them, to join the fight, or walk away. Like she had told McKay, the decision had to be Sheppard's but part of her ached to try her own shot at convincing him to join the expedition. Almost instantly she dismissed the idea. It wouldn't be her words that swayed him, would have to be someone else's. Someone who understood Sheppard better than she ever would, someone who knew about war, about losing battles, about losing people under their command, about getting back up when the world tried it's best to knock you down for the count. For a fleeting second she thought about herding Colonel Caldwell to Sheppard before she thought better of it. Caldwell was a soldier, yes, but he wasn't the right man for this job, didn't come off as the pep speech kind of guy. Instead an unlikely candidate came to mind: Ronon Dex.

She had misjudged the tall hulking man before, thought all he was insolence and action but today she had seen a different side of him of devote loyalty and concern. No, Caldwell wouldn't be the one Sheppard would listen to but Dex just might be. Putting John Sheppard out of her mind, she started diving back into learning the Ancient language. She had an entire expedition team that would be counting on her to keep them alive, and tonight, John Sheppard wasn't among that number. Realizing that this might be the last night before he did become her responsibility if McKay got his wish, she took the reprieve while she had it. Let Sheppard's wellbeing rest in Dex's capable hands tonight with a murmured, "Godspeed Dex," because she sensed the man would need all the well wishes he could get if he took it upon himself to be Sheppard's guardian angel.

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TBC

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Thanks for the awesome reviews and my silent readers!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.