John Sheppard is a lot of things, including but not limited to: pilot, Chief Military Officer of Atlantis, a bit of an ass, a baker of the meanest lasagna known to humanity. "Ass" could be interchangeable with "loner," if his willing stint in Antarctica was anything to go by. He wasn't exactly a people person to begin with, and after a while, those penguins were better company than the other guys. They didn't talk and they were adorable. What more could a person want?
John Sheppard is a survivor of a lot of crazy shit. The main thing that sticks out the most in recent memory is awakening a whole slew of space vampires and watching his commanding officer get the life sucked out of him. Literally. But even that was roughly a year ago.
His current situation is a real curveball.
He isn't sure what to expect when Elizabeth calls him to her office. Hell, he isn't even sure why. A few scenarios run through his mind—his diplomatic abilities (or maybe his lack of them), Ronon because he's Ronon, or maybe they found a new planet to explore—in that order.
Elizabeth has her fingers steepled before they collapse and she's simply clasping her hands. Not a good sign. John has since learned to associate that with an Elizabeth that is either concerned or deeply disappointed. As soon as he knocks on the doorframe, her gaze flicks from him to one of the empty chairs in front of her desk.
So far, she's been completely silent, and suddenly John felt like a tiny thirteen-year-old called down to the principal's office. A disappointed Elizabeth is plenty capable of making someone choke down unholy amounts of guilt. An angry Elizabeth is completely and utterly terrifying, even when tempered with a smile. Maybe that's why she's such a renowned diplomat.
Even after John settles into one of the chairs, Elizabeth still hasn't uttered a word. Instead, she breaths deeply. Long inhale, long exhale.
John can't shake off the prickle of fear that runs up and down his spine. The atmosphere in the office is eerily familiar to the principal's office, and John half expects his father to stride in, disappointed as ever, a lecture of a lifetime on the tip of his tongue. Again.
"The Daedalus is about ten days into their trip, ten days from arriving," Elizabeth begins. That's obvious. He knows that already. There's a schedule for a reason. If anything, that means Elizabeth herself isn't even sure where to begin. Which is also concerning. "And they're carrying an important passenger."
She slides her tablet in front of him.
Raising an eyebrow, he hits the power button and then realizes why she didn't say it was some general or another IOA clown.
"A kid?" John yelps and immediately winces. His voice hasn't cracked like that in twenty-five years.
"Yes." Elizabeth presses her palms flat to the table. "Yours, John."
"What?" He all but squeaks the word. He glances at the last name—Amamiya—and all the puzzle pieces fall into place. "And she's coming . . . here? The Pegasus Galaxy?"
"The circumstances that forced her here are . . . unusual, to put it likely. And dire."
"Well yeah." John recovers some of his wits and scans the file. "They must've been if the SGC thought it was safer for her in a galaxy where the Wraith exist. And if the IOA waived a lot of their bull—uh, their bureaucracy."
Elizabeth nods, her eyes narrowing slightly, but otherwise doesn't look at all disconcerted. Then again, she was a diplomat. John figures having a good poker face is an essential job requirement. "I understand it's a lot to take in John, but all the information on the tablet can only help you prepare."
"Prepare," John repeats. "Prepare for the arrival of a daughter I didn't even know I had."
"You have ten days," Elizabeth reminds him. "She's not going to be beamed down right this second."
"But she'll be beamed down in ten days."
It's just the hand you've been dealt, John. All you can do now is make the most of it."
He can't read too much into Weir's tone. It wasn't exactly sympathetic, but it wasn't oozing in pity either. John stomach flip-flops as he keeps staring at familiar brown eyes he hasn't seen since his Stanford days.
Missions are pretty sparse in those ten days, but John hardly notices the dip in his routine. Somehow, trying to memorize every detail in that file took up as much of his attention as having to gear up and gate out. As if knowing every conceivable fact about her could make up for a lifetime of not knowing. The paperwork is practically nonexistent, but he could guess that it all got shafted onto Lorne's desk.
It's hard not to spend every waking hour wondering about how Kieran Amamiya would react to Atlantis. To him. Or most importantly, the frankly absurd amount of trauma she went through in such a short time.
Mayumi. His stomach's been churning since he got the news. They were close at one point. Real close. But in the end, they parted as friends and eventually dropped contact.
And because they both had the ATA, they had a kid. Alien DNA is weird.
Three people drop into the seats around him, and John almost jumps out of his chair. McKay, Teyla, and Ronon practically appear out of nowhere at the lunch table. The one they usually shared.
"You okay Sheppard?" Ronon asks. As usual, his tray is heaping, even compared to McKay's.
"You've seemed rather distant lately." Teyla points out. As usual, she hits the nail on the head.
"Not to mention, you've hardly noticed our one mission when we usually have three this far into the week!" Rodney pipes up.
John blinks. "Really now?" Insert a chorus of agreements here, and he figures maybe it's time to drop the bomb. Odds were that Kieran would be hanging out with them at one point or another. "So, there's a visitor coming to Atlantis on the Daedalus. Well, she's not really a visitor, because she'll be staying. Permanently. As a resident."
"You're rambling," McKay cuts in. "That's usually my think. Who is it, your ex or something?"
"Daughter," John corrects immediately. And then winces. There it is. He was hoping to drop the bombshell tactfully, instead of like that.
"You have a kid?" Ronon asks incredulously. And how could they not be surprised? Or even skeptical?
John nods. "She's sixteen. SGC and IOA decided that because of certain circumstances, the Pegasus Galaxy is safer than Earth."
"Even with a threat such as the Wraith?" Teyla asks.
"Yeah. Back on Earth, there's an organization that's actively hunting her, and—" He finds it painfully hard to swallow all of a sudden. He knows he's coming up on some very sensitive information, unsure of whether he should divulge it or not. His first thought is yes. These people are his team. His family. They might end up being Kieran's too. If she lets them. "Her mom was killed. Because of the ATA."
Utensils drop, heads turn; in McKay's case, still chewing. The atmosphere at their table takes a nosedive and he can hardly pull out of it.
"The people of your planet are killed just for possessing the gene of the ancestors?" Teyla's tone is accusatory, and the white knuckles around her fork are a clear indication that she's about to break something. John's only sitting across from her, but he scoots a bit away from the table anyways.
Abort, abort!
John shakes his head. "No. Sorry—bad phrasing on my part. There's this screwed up organization on Earth called the Trust. They were interested in the potential of the ATA, but decided they needed a human subject. Kieran's mom studied genes and the human brain, so they kidnapped Kieran to force her compliance and then Mayumi—Kieran's mom—died trying to get her out."
"Is your daughter's name Kieran Sheppard?" Teyla asks softly.
"No." John shakes his head again. "Kieran Amamiya." He forces himself to shut off the tablet. He pulls on his forgotten food tray by the corner, poking at his salad. "I had no idea she existed until last week, and I can guess she's known me only a little longer than that."
"This is what you've been wrestling with all week?" If McKay's eyes get any wider, his eyeballs are going to fall out.
"I just said so, didn't I?"
"Not to mention what she'll think of you," McKay continues. "I mean, she could just hate you from the get-go, right? I mean, if I were her—"
"McKay." Ronon's voice is more gruff than usual. "Shut up."
"And how she'll deal with me going off-world every week and then some." John continues McKay's train of thought himself. "And how she'll deal with Atlantis and—" He rubs his temples. "These are the three slowest days of my life."
Teyla smiles, in that calm and patient Teyla way that comes with leading an entire people. "I am sure that it will be fine."
John sighs. "Easy for you to say."
Three days pass. Kieran Amamiya, his daughter, is scheduled to beam down from the Daedalus in about five minutes. Three days pass, and suddenly the entire city finds out about Kieran. He can only hope they all have the good sense not to overwhelm her.
Subconsciously, he wipes his palms on his pants and winces. He's about to meet his daughter, not some famed general.
Okay, well, maybe he should be more nervous.
He's ignoring everything but the blood rushing through his ears and his heart beating with the force of C-4. He's never been one to pace, but now he's stomping trenches into Elizabeth's office. John guesses they figured beaming the girl directly into the gate room would make too big of a commotion, though he can't imagine that the city would be calm the first few weeks after today. And Elizabeth is kind enough to step out of her office. The last thing she needs to see is her Chief Military Officer give himself a heart attack.
"Daedalus ready to transport," Chuck announces from the console down the catwalk.
Oh god.
A beam of light materializes in front of Elizabeth's desk, leaving behind a teenager as it fades. There's a backpack and a standard-issue Air Force duffel slung over one shoulder, a rolling luggage in her left hand and a cardboard box under her right arm.
Kieran Amamiya blinks a couple times, flashing warm brown eyes just like Mayumi's. "Yeah, I'm never going to get used to that," she mutters. Then her gaze settles on John. His stomach drops as apprehension flashes in her eyes, but it fades just as quickly into a slow tentative smile. "Don't shoot me," she jokes weakly. "I come in peace."
There's a beat of silence, every bit as awkward and cumbersome as John had feared.
John clears his throat, extending his hand." I'm John—"
"I know." Kieran winces, letting go of the luggage to shake his hand. Her grip's like iron, and he tries not to think too hard about her wiping her hand on her jeans. "Sorry, that came out kind of um, aggressive. I'm Kieran, but you probably knew that already."
Awkward again.
"Sooo," she drawls, rocking back on her heels. How she's able to do that carrying all of that without falling over, John had no idea. Kieran looks around, eyes darting from side to side she's glued to a particularly intriguing tennis match before it settles on the Stargate. "Lost city of the Ancients, huh?"
John nods, finally finding his voice. "Yeah." He blinks. "Have you been hanging out with Daniel Jackson?"
"And Sam Carter. The entirety of SG-1, really. And Generals Landry and O'Neill wanted to swap some words with me before I got beamed aboard the Daedalus."
He almost blanches at that. "What kind of words?"
Kieran shrugs. "Stuff. This and that. I've been reading up on the Stargate Program, Atlantis, other things." She leans to one side, somehow not falling over. John follows her gaze, raising his eyebrows at the frozen gate technicians who jump back into a whirlwind of activity as soon as he makes eye contact. "So . . . are we going somewhere, or are we just going to stand and look pretty for the peanut gallery?"
John winces. "I tried to keep your arrival on the quiet side, but I told a couple of my friends. And suddenly the whole city knows. Plus, compared to most of the expedition members, you're a bit on the young side. Even counting the new guys."
Kieran's face rearranges into wide eyes and raised brows. "You're on a city that's—that's the opposite of land-locked. It's ocean-locked, and you didn't once think gossip wouldn't go in a circle?" Kieran scoffs, but there's hints of a smile. "I thought I just escaped high school."
Her tone was all business, but her smirk means she's just jerking his leg.
And they're still standing in Elizabeth's office.
"I could carry some of that for you."
She doesn't hesitate in handing over the cardboard box and shrugging off her duffel bag. He blanches a bit at the weight, bending at the knees to compensate
"This one isn't too bad—" she nods at her backpack. "It's only a little heavier than what I'm used to. And the other one has wheels."
"Right. So, about the rooming situation—" John clears his throat a bit, heading out the open door. "We were able to get a room set up for you. There's not a lot in it, just the essentials." He nods to the cardboard box. "But I have a feeling that decorating won't be a problem. So shall we?" When he gets a nod, he figures he might as well start giving her the grand tour. "This is the gate room."
"The one with the Stargate you mean?" She asks wryly.
So she inherited his sass.
"Believe it or not." Eh, he can work with this. Better than having to work with someone with absolutely no sense of humor. "So, your technicians—the guys in green—they watch gate activity, dial us out, check IDCs—that's identification codes."
"Kind of like Sergeant Harriman back at the SGC?"
He's taken a bit aback when she drops his name. When he looks back at Kieran, she's looking at everything but him, the interfaces, the consoles, the people, the area. She's curious, and sometimes the best way to learn is by observing. "Yeah." He nods his head in the general direction of the command consoles. "Hey Chuck."
"Colonel," the Canadian nods with a smile.
John leads her up the spiral staircase in the back, and not once does she complain about her luggage hitting every step as she lifts it; she's too busy staring at everything. Luckily, there weren't any stairs the rest of the way to the transporter. He can imagine her tripping up the stairs, wincing internally. Yeah, that would do wonders for her nerves.
The hallway is bustling with personnel: reds working in command, medicals in yellow, though it's mostly scientists in blue and military in black. Unfortunately, most of them don't even entertain the idea of being subtle as they pass the elephant in the hallway. To her credit, Kieran takes it all in stride, returning they curious stares with a tentative smile.
Once they get to the transporter, John pointed to the dot in the center of the screen on the wall. "This is where we are, the control tower." He points to another in the northeast part of the city. "This is the residential part of the city."
Kieran nods, hesitantly raising her hand to the screen. "Can I?"
John smiles, gesturing to the screen. "It's just an elevator on steroids. Be my guest."
The room they got her is on the same floor as his, a little further down the corridor. It's a decent-sized one, nothing special, but—
"Oh holy shit—" Kieran whoops.
"Uh—language?" John says like a reflex.
Kieran wrinkles her nose. "Holy crap?" She tries. John gives her something between a shrug and a nod. Alright then. "This is huge! Do I get my own bathroom? And a balcony?"
"Is it a lot bigger than your old room?"
"My room in Colorado, yeah. And last year I was in a dorm, which wasn't bad. But it was still tiny."
"So this was in . . . Tokyo then."
"Yeah." Kieran gives him a wry grin. "Property value is insane over there."
"I bet."
And they settle into another awkward silence. Great. They were overdue for one anyways.
"Um, this is going to be awkward but . . ." Kieran clears her throat. "What do you want me to call you?"
"John," he answers immediately. He wouldn't dare impose the d-word. Maybe she would, one day, but they just met. He's fine just being John to her, and he has a feeling she didn't have any qualms with that either. A dad was something she never had to begin with, and honestly, he wasn't so sure that he could be one—let alone a good one. "How about we get some dinner?"
With perfect comedic timing, Kieran's stomach growls. She looks up at him sheepishly. "That sounds good."
It's pretty late, but she'd get to see more of the city that way. And hopefully, she'll remember where to go for breakfast in the morning in case he gets called in early. Thankfully, the staff had good enough sense to put the mess hall in the residential area.
It's a bit later than John's used to eating. The dinner rush is starting to peter out. He doesn't see anyone too familiar, namely his team or Lorne. Sometimes Carson would be up grabbing a mug of coffee if he was on the graveyard shift.
John grabs a tray and points out what he knows about the food. Due to the highly diverse population of Atlantis, there is a variety of food for every meal, from nearly every culture. But still, every cafeteria has that one food that everyone knew to avoid.
Kieran glances at the plastic trays. "Just like high school. Except, I don't have to guess whether the food hit its expiration date or not."
"I thought that was a stereotype," John mutters, scooping up some mashed potatoes.
Kieran shrugs, getting some fish and a bit of salad. "To be fair, I spent half of my high school in Japan. More than half, probably. I didn't really talk to a lot of people in Colorado. All of my closest friends are in Tokyo. And I didn't even meet them till last year."
"Tokyo huh?" John leads to her a table on the open walkway. All her closest friends were across the ocean. And she didn't meet them until last year? "That's uh . . ."
"Lonely?" Kieran offers. "Yeah. I didn't have a lot of friends in Colorado Springs. I wasn't bullied or anything like that. I just wasn't anyone's first choice."
John swallows. She said it so matter-of-factly, like it was something she already accepted about herself. "I know the feeling."
"Yeah."
Loneliness is one of the worst feelings, John supposes—not that he can talk. He was the one who took the Antarctica assignment willingly. Feeling alone is even worse. He knows what it's like to feel like a rock in a stream, watching people slip past. But the difference between him and Kieran is that she had friends, and maybe his friends could be her family too, if she'll let them.
But for now, he says, "Tell me about Tokyo," and smiles with her as her eyes light up.
He keeps up as best he can, but from the way she jumps around between memories he's not sure whether her mouth can't keep up with her brain or if she's hiding something the way all teenagers do, or both.
There's Ren, her cousin who might as well be her brother. Ann and Ryuji were her first friends at Shujin Academy. Yusuke, who's literally kind of a starving artist with his head in the clouds but he's got people to help keep his feet on the ground. Makoto, the student council president that kind of had a stick up her ass until the whole debacle with the yakuza happened (wait what). He tries to ignore the waver in her throat when she talks about Futaba, whose mother died and she couldn't do anything but watch. Haru, who's the heiress to the mega conglomerate Okumura Foods and trying to weed out the corruption her father left behind (John thinks he remembers something about the old CEO dying in the middle of a press conferences on national television. He's not sure if he's remembering correctly, but if he is—Jesus fucking Christ). Morgana has so much personality it takes John a solid five minutes to realize she's talking about a cat. And Akechi . . . is complicated. Kieran doesn't go any further than that, and he's not planning on asking, but he doesn't miss how she uses Akechi's family name as opposed to his given name.
His heart is bleeding, because one kid—his kid—should have had to lose and endure so much, and yet she is. And yet she's here, gesturing wildly like a hurricane on a chair.
She'll be alright.
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