Understudy

Author: Cheryl W.

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CHAPTER 6: One Day

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Ronon's years as a runner had taught him to be suspicious of the quiet, that it sometimes heralded in other dangers, not of the wraith variety, but just as malicious. So the quiet coming from the room Sheppard had disappeared into an hour ago, it was setting his nerves on edge. Suddenly he had a mental picture of Sheppard passed out on the floor, losing blood, needing medical assistance…while he stood uselessly outside the man's room.

With that fear in mind, Ronon rapped his knuckles on the door twice, pressed his ear against the metal door, straining to hear a response…that didn't come. Forgoing the worries of insulting Sheppard by barging in, he turned the handle, found the door unlocked. When the door swung open, the light from the hallway spilled into the room, exposed the bed and the figure crumpled face down on top of the sheets only half way up the bed, still clad in his stolen infirmary scrubs.

Entering the room, Ronon stood over the wounded man, guessed that Sheppard hadn't had the strength to make it far enough up the mattress for his head to find the pillow, let alone for him to draw on sheets and covers. Worriedly Ronon noted Sheppard's body was shaking minutely with shivers and though the lack of covers could be the culprit, Ronon feared the reaction was because of something direr than coldness. He contemplated calling Dr. Beckett or returning the man to the infirmary but hesitated to do either course of action.

Though he had just spent days at Sheppard's side when he was unconscious, barely clinging to life, this felt….different, like he was betraying the man by spying on him in his weakness. His own John would hate to be seen so vulnerable and he doubted this John was any different, was maybe more loathe to show weakness considering he had no position of power like his John had and no real reason to trust them to not take advantage of him in his weakness. It was probably why Sheppard had escaped from the infirmary to go somewhere he could be weak in private.

'And if I take him back to the infirmary or bring Doctor Beckett to him, he won't ever trust me again with his weakness,' Ronon knew that in his gut.Because that was the one thing he regretted about his relationship with his own John, that the man never fully let down his guard, never accepted that it was alright to be weak in his presence, never truly trusted that Ronon would take up the slack, protect John when he couldn't protect himself.

Cruelly dark memories crowded in on Ronon, made his John's lack of trust in him so very justified. 'He wasn't wrong to not put all his faith in you. When he couldn't protect himself…you didn't protect him either. He died looking right at you, thinking…maybe believing you'd save him…and you didn't.' Ronon felt bile burning in his throat and had to close his eyes, shove his revulsion with himself, with the unforgiveable way he had failed his best friend, back into the darkest depths of his soul.

He vowed then and there that he would never betray this John Sheppard, not in Sheppard's weakness, not even in his strength. And that meant not alerting Beckett to Sheppard's condition, instead Ronon would offer what aid he could to the man on his own. Here, in this room, away from prying eyes, to where the man had worked so hard to reach.

Afraid the man would startle at his touch, he quietly preambled his action. "Sheppard, I'm just going to get you settled better." Reaching out, he gripped Sheppard's uninjured shoulder and, with gentleness few would associate him with, rolled the wounded man onto his back. Sheppard groaned at the motion and fought to open his eyes.

"Easy, just getting you more comfortable," Ronon assured the half lucid man, found Sheppard's searching eyes finally latch onto his but Sheppard didn't offer up a verbal protest. The wounded man did a little hiss of pain when Ronon slid his arms behind his back and legs, picked up him a few inches off the bed to carefully resettle him properly on the bed. Mindful to brace Sheppard's head as he slid his hands from under the man, he eased John's head onto the pillow, only then realizing that he should have pulled the bed covers back before moving Sheppard.

Silently Ronon cursed his ineptitude at caring for someone else, someone who was weak and in pain. To prove how little he had helped Sheppard, the wounded man's teeth began to chatter as his shivers notched up into shuttering. Putting a hand to Sheppard's chest, he vowed, "Hold on. I'll be back," before stalking out of the room.

Unannounced, he barged into the room across the hallway, a groggy outraged voice demanded, "What's happenin'?! Hey, my sheet!" Then Ronon was back at John's side, spreading the pilfered sheet and blanket over the man, went so far as to tuck the sides in a little under him to ensure he was as warm as could be. Feeling satisfied at his work, he looked up, found Sheppard watching him in the strip of light illuminating them from the hallway.

John had never had someone help him when he was wounded before, had only cold, duty-bound aid from a few maids when he was sick as a kid. And he had resented that he was comforted by McKay's help earlier on his failed escape from the infirmary, now felt that resentment spilling over with Dex's concern for his wellbeing. Probably why he responded like a grade A jerk. "Your nurse maid act doesn't make us fffrriends," wished his voice sounded stronger, that he hadn't stuttered on the "friends" part because of his chattering teeth.

A little hurt by a second rejection, Ronon steeled himself to not stomp off this time. Simply replied with, "Ok," because he was starting to accept that Sheppard had to set the pace of whatever tie the man might someday allow him. Lightly putting his hand on Sheppard's forehead, he reported, "You're running a fever. Should I call Dr. Beckett?"

"I'm not going back there," John snapped, pushing Ronon's hand away, hoping his tone was determined sounding enough because his bodily strength was all blown on his trip to that room. But he was a poker player after all, talented at bluffing when he had a losing hand.

Without arguing John's declaration, Dex walked out of the room and John didn't know if the man was washing his hands of him, (and John knew that, if the man was, it was his own fault) or Dex was off ratting him out to the doctor. Though John would have opted to go back to sleep, pain was making that nearly impossible now that he was lucid enough to feel it. In hindsight, he was regretting not committing some thievery of some good drugs when he made his jail break from the infirmary. But that was his problem lately…he didn't think past goal #1. Find the killer alien…done. What to do when he found the alien?! He had flunked that part of the 'saving humankind' exam. Just like today, escape the infirmary – accomplished. Be in any shape to do anything but vegetate in agony…not so much.

'Damn it John, think for once in your life! Have a step 2…a plan B!' he silently railed at himself. Snidely thought that the other Sheppards probably had step # 100 and plan Zs in mind before they even initiated step #1/Plan A. "Stupid brown nosers!" he muttered, hated the comparison game that seemed to constantly be going on his head since he was made aware of his oh so perfect doppelgangers.

Closing his eyes against the light still shining upon him from the hallway, he wished Ronon had at least shut the door, not made him even more of a spectacle for passerbyers. But maybe that was the point, to punish him for being an ungrateful moron for the man's help. Help Dex didn't have to give to him. 'Don't get confused, John. He did it because he thinks you're in some way his BFF. Don't start to believe it's anything but that. If he knew you…he wouldn't have come for you in the desert, no one would have.' Could still see the faces of the people he had gotten killed in Afghanistan because he thought he was some hero, remembered the hatred in the eyes of their relatives. They knew he deserved to be dead instead of their loved ones, and him playing a part in stopping an alien trying to contact his brethren in another galaxy didn't absolve him from any of his guilt. Nothing ever would.

He was jerked from those happy thoughts by Ronon's reappearance in the room. Felt another shock when the man claimed a seat on the bed by his waist and offered out something to him in his outstretched hand: two different pills.

"One for pain and the other to fight the fever," Ronon explained, waited for the man to accept his offering. Hoped he did so willingly because he wasn't willing to let the man continue to suffer, had decided on his way back to Sheppard that he wasn't above forcing them on Sheppard and wouldn't that decimate any chances of friendship with the man. But he had consoled himself with the conviction that it would be in line with keeping Sheppard's wellbeing above his own needs.

Without the reluctance he knew he should playact, John reached out, took the pills and popped them in his mouth, found Ronon handing him a bottle of water a moment later. Taking a swig, he swallowed the pills, took another swallow of the refreshing water and couldn't help remembering the acrid thirstiness he had felt in the desert, lying there under the melting sun, bleeding out, dying. He must have dove deeper into those memories, got a bit lost in them because Ronon was calling his name like it wasn't the first time, "Sheppard? Sheppard!"

Coming back to himself, John focused on the man who, by all rights, shouldn't care a thing about him, a stranger he only met days ago and even then he had been unconscious for most of their "together" time. Selfishly not wanting to point that out to the man yet again, to push the man away for a third time, he instead remarked, "Thought the doc would order you to bring me back," because he didn't think Dex had a handy stash of the just the right drugs he needed in his room, that he had had to seek out the doctor for the medication.

Ronon smirked, amused. "Probably wanted to but he had orders to not drag you back to the infirmary unless you got real bad."

"Guess my medical coverage is being cut because my insurance policy lapsed, right?" After all, why would they spend more time, money and effort patching him up now that he had refused Dr. McKay's invite to join their galactic black ops team. Going forward he was just another civilian that wasn't their responsibility.

Not quite understanding Sheppard's comeback, Ronon replied with the truth he knew. "I think its Dr. Weir's way of keeping her promise to you."

John's head snapped up, gave Ronon a narrow eyed glare. "She told you that?" Had really thought she wouldn't mention their embarrassing meet and greet in the hallway to anyone, felt a little betrayed she already had. Had probably laughingly told Dex how pathetic he was.

Ronon shook his head in denial of John's question. "Heard your conversation."

John tilted his head, knew that meant the man had been following his pitiful, embarrassing journey from the infirmary. "Following me to make sure I didn't sabotage the ship?"

Ronon couldn't hold back a chuckle at Sheppard's ludicrous suggestion. "No. Thought you might bleed out in the corridor."

"Oh, well…your faith in me …doesn't exactly cheer me up." Strange that he rather be considered a security threat than a bumbling helpless invalid. He still had some pride left apparently.

Instead of his statement chasing Ronon off, the man got comfy at a position on the bed closer to John's ankles and drew his bended knee up on the mattress. But he didn't say anything and that kind of unnerved John.

"If this is part of the recruitment package to get me to join your space unit, you're wasting your time. I told McKay no and it's staying no." Pretty sure he had hit on why the man was still there after his rebuffs at the man's attempts to make him an exact cloned replacement for his lost BFF.

"Huh," was Ronon's comeback, like John's words stumped him.

Knowing he was playing right into the man's hands, John couldn't help demanding, "What's that mean?"

"Just thought a guy who sacrificed his own life to stop the Wraith from invading his planet would want to make sure they didn't succeed in the future." Ronon felt a tinge of shame at baiting the man but smothered it. His need to have Sheppard in his life, on Atlantis overshadowed any damage trying to achieve that did to his honor.

Not being oblivious to Dex's manipulations, John shot back, "You have an entire black ops program to prevent that from happening,"

Holding John's look, Ronon drawled, "Yeah but they didn't prevent it this time..you did. You found the wraith." Sharpening his gaze's intensity, he asked, "And if you thought this black Ops program could handle it, why'd you get involved? Still try and find the wraith on your own?"

"I had a hunch and…" John hesitated a beat before bitterly acknowledging, "…sometimes I can't mind my own business." And look where that had gotten him time and time again. Where it had gotten him this time.

Reading the self-aversion in Sheppard's tone, Ronon countered with "Sounds like two good traits to me," a question in his tone of why Sheppard thought differently.

"They really aren't," John resentfully contradicted his visitor. "Get people killed." Good people, people who shouldn't have died if he'd just swallowed down his pride, believed his superior officers were in the right, didn't disobey direct orders following some hunch he had about Melody's location, regardless that his gut instincts were right. They found Melody, sure enough, and a contingent of Taliban who blew his copter and the 12 people he had in it out of the sky. And Melody …he watched them kill her right in front of him, punishment for his ill-fated rescue attempt that pinpointing where their encampment was to the US's closest base. "Make things worse than they already are."

To John's surprise, no judgment clouded Dex's expression at his reveal, instead the man from another galaxy stated matter-of-factly, "Don't know about that but it saved your planet this time."

"I got lucky," John shot back, didn't understand why no one could get that he wasn't some savior of the world. Was just a guy whose brain never quit working through a problem, over and over again, needing to solve it. To prove to himself that he could do something right.

Ronon snorted at John's comeback, asked incredulously, "You call getting a bullet to the chest and bleeding out in the middle of nowhere lucky?"

"Compared to some other days I've had…yeah," John testily retorted.

Ronon didn't protest John's claim, sat there in silence a few minutes, debating with himself if he should open himself up to this John, risk his own pride for the sake of gaining this Sheppard's trust. Tell this…stranger what he hadn't told this McKay or Teyla, had left his life in that other Atlantis, that other Pegasus galaxy behind but it still was part of him, made him who he was. 'Just like this Sheppard's failure, his regrets make him who he is,' and it was a revelation..that he actually had more in common with this Sheppard than he had had with his own.

His eyes drifting down from Sheppard's face to some random spot on the blanket on the bed, Ronon began to speak, "My planet was overrun by the Wraith when I wasn't there to protect it and that haunts me." Inhaling a steadying breath, he looked up, wanting to gauge the man's reaction, note any judgement coming his way but there was a look of grim understanding on Sheppard's face. The wounded man's response was enough to embolden Ronon on. "Maybe I couldn't have made a difference, saved any lives, stopped my planet's council from making a devil's pack with the Wraith, agreeing to turn over three fourths of the population so their elite could survive, become servants to the Wraith," raw bitterness in the recounting of what those in power had done to save themselves and betray their world's population.

He paused, tried to push down the raging fury that always threatened to consume him, was why he didn't choose to speak of this…that and his shame at his failing. A shame that this Sheppard knew, carried with him as Ronon carried his own. Hoarsely, he continued, "I can't help wonder if I could have changed things..saved even a handful of lives…sabotaged our council's plans."

John swallowed hard, that was the rub, wasn't it. The what ifs. If he hadn't tried to save Melody, if he had followed orders, if Melody could have been rescued by another team, a prepared team instead of him and his innocent passengers. If…if…if. He couldn't offer one word of consolation to Dex, had none to offer himself after seven years of trying to find some.

Looking up, holding John's haunted gaze, Ronon darkly warned, "Trust me, you don't want to see your world ravaged or become slaves to the Wraith and regret you didn't do all you could to stop it. Because whatever pain your past failures cause you, failing your entire world…" he swallowed hard at that condemnation he placed on himself before direly cautioning…"it is so much worse."

Companionably patting John's leg, Ronon got up and walked out of the room, closing the door on his departure. Letting Sheppard have his privacy; deal with his weakness without an audience. Knew he had told this John about Sateda, not as some tactic to sway him to join Stargate Atlantis but as a warning…for a friend. To not see someone he cared about drown in the guilt that threatened to overwhelm him some days. Because this John, he was barely staying afloat as it was, didn't need even another drop of guilt added to his soul.

And, like it or not, John Sheppard was vital to Earth's survival, to Atlantis'. Didn't get to sit on the sidelines and let others pay in blood and soul wrenching despair for the cost of the battles that had to be waged. This was John Sheppard's fate, to have lives in his hands, worlds saved or lost on his conscience. Ronon almost wished he could spare him that…had not gotten his wish to meet this world's John Sheppard. But fate had stepped in, had a Wraith cross this Sheppard's path and now things were in motion none could undo. All Ronon could do if Sheppard accepted this fate was stay steadfastly by his side like he had his own best friend's and pray fervently things didn't end the same way between them because there wasn't enough of his soul intact to survive losing another John Sheppard.

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With Dex's departure, John curled onto his unwounded side, wanted to shut out Ronon's words that had dug deep into his soul, to make this not his problem. To go back to days ago when his biggest concern was how he was going to win enough money to pay back the loan he got from Mikey. To no one counting on him, putting any faith in him, to everyone knowing to keep their distance, that he didn't want conversations, drinking pals, acquaintances and he sure as hell didn't want anyone labeled as a friend. Didn't want anyone to ever get that close to him again because people close to him…they died, he got them killed.

'And if you do nothing, not just the people you know could die but everyone …EVERYONE could die.' Crap crap crap! Didn't they know they were tapping the wrong guy on the shoulder?! He was a screwup! How'd McKay put it, that somehow he managed to live with his pride killing twelve people but McKay didn't think others could stand to look at him it they knew that about him.

But the kicker was, McKay knew the truth, that truth about him…and he was leading the charge to get him on this team, had apparently talked Ronon into trying to mess with his head, make it seem joining was the only way the world would be safe. And wasn't that a crock of crap! The world was better off without him trying to "help it".

John hated that doubts were creeping in on that conviction.

What Ronon had said, about losing his world, living with the regret, the what ifs… John knew that torment better than most. What if he hadn't tried to rescue Melody, what if he went alone, what if he had succeeded instead of failed. What if, what if, what if. They ate of him and that was dealing with 12 lost lives. If he didn't join this team, if half the world's population got wasted in some alien war he could have prevented…Crap but how did it come to this?! Him standing between the world's destruction and some alien invasion?!

'I don't need this!' he wanted to scream and more importantly, he didn't want it. Lives in his hands, the fate of others dependent on him not screwing up, stakes higher than he could ever have dreamed even when he was so full of himself and his righteous belief that he could do some good in the world. That John Sheppard, the one before the crash, he'd think Ronon and McKay were dead-on, that he was the right guy for this job, the only guy for this job. But this present John…he knew better…had learned the hard way the cost of being wrong. Just one time cost him more than he could bear.

'And if you say no now, to this, isn't that you being wrong again, on a freaking apocalyptic scale?!' Wished he had someone to call, to bounce this crazy proposition off of them, to have someone tell him what to do, what was best to do. But that was the problem with cutting himself off from everyone…he didn't have a sounding board, a friend to talk things over with, didn't even have a family member he was on speaking terms with. He was alone in the world. 'Maybe that's the answer…you've got no reason to stay in this world, no ties, no longer any job…no obligations to uphold, no close relations holding you back.'

Truth was, he could step off Earth and no one would ever know he was gone, would miss him. Surprisingly, that truth didn't bother him, what rattled him was thinking of where he was headed. Not the unknown world, another galaxy thing that should terrify him but the certainty that hewouldn't be alone.

He already knew there would be people there who would care about him, would track him down and help him if he got hurt. Like Ronon had tonight and McKay had expressed concern for him in the infirmary and the doctor genuinely seemed to care about his recovery and Elizabth..Dr. Weir hadn't tossed him in the brig for his jail break from the infirmary. It would be …different…where he might be heading. And it scared him…not going up against the Wraith, not maybe dying in a different galaxy, no what frightened him most was opening himself up to caring about people again, letting them care about him. If he failed this time…failed more people who trusted him…he wouldn't make it back from that, wouldn't want to. 'You're really thinking about doing this?! John …you do this…there's no going back. You screw up in a scale like you're going to face there…more blood will be on your hands than you could ever deal with."

"So don't screw up," he muttered to himself, wished it was a vow, a promise instead of a pleading reprimand to himself to not fail his entire world. But either way, good decision or the worst he'd ever make, his mind was made up. He couldn't stand by and let his world come under attack, had to join the fight. Hadn't defied his father and joined the Air Force to let his country…his world fall to evil men's manipulations. Or, in this case, some evil, hungry alien race's eating spree.

Ironically he recalled his conversation with the CSI guy at the Wraith's victim's crime scene out in the desert: "I thought I'd seen everything" and he'd naively replied, "Yeah, me too. One day we'll learn." Today was turning out to be that day, the day that he realized that he'd barely seen anything in his life, that he didn't know a thing about the threats to his own world, and certainly wouldn't have ever guessed the path his own life would take to some other galaxy. He just prayed it wasn't also the day he doomed his planet by once again thinking he could save lives simply because he couldn't bear to stand idly by and lose them.

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TBC

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Thanks for spending time with this story!

Have a great day!

Cheryl