Thank you to Rogue1503 for her inspiration. You've been the light at the end of that very long tunnel.

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Sheppard had awoken that morning, sprawled across his bed, arms dangling to the floor, covers twisted around him, but fully clothed. As he lifted his head his morning was further diminished by the realisation that not only did he have the hangover from hell, but he could also remember, with startling clarity, his behaviour from the previous night.

He got up slowly, careful not to jar his head and aggravate the pin pricks of pain shooting behind his eyes and scrubbed a hand wearily over his face.

He'd got drunk, been embarrassingly needy and had had to be carried back to his room, and further investigation to the smell that pervaded his nostrils, he had also thrown up on his floor.

"Just great," he muttered as he staggered through to his bathroom to get something to clear it up. He knelt down and started to scrub away the smell and the stain, all the while, trying to stifle dry heaves.

He needed a nice hot shower to burn away the memories, a hot meal to fill his stomach and he needed to apologise for his actions. He felt like an ass.

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Sheppard approached Elizabeth's office in a series of stages. First he entered the gate room and walked over to one of the consoles to 'ask' if anything was going on that needed his attention, all the while throwing sneaky glances towards her office. Then he strolled nonchalantly over to the balcony to look down at the gate, casting another salubrious peek her way. And then he strode up to her door and gave the outside window a little knock, which hurt his head, and entered to sit down in the chair opposite her.

"Morning," she said as she looked up from her reports.

"Hi," he said and sat forward in his chair.

"I heard you had a good night," she said with a small smile. He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or genuine.

"Yeah, about that. I want to apologise for my behaviour last night. It will never happen again." He kept his voice low in case any prying ears were listening. The rumour mill worked overtime in Atlantis and he didn't need his exploits to be spread to the outer reaches of the city. He had barely managed to contain respect as it was.

"It was your night off," she stated simply, "Though I agree. Less is sometimes more." She studied the troubled expression gracing his face and the dark circles under his eyes, "You want to talk about it?"

He met her eyes, "I would love to," he said and then turned his attention down to his taped fingers. He smoothed down one of the pieces of tape that had managed to become unstuck and then looked up again, "But I can't."

"Cant?" she asked. She leant forward on her desk and clasped her hands together.

"I have my orders," he said. He hated this top secret bullshit. As far as he was concerned his Intel was Intel she needed to know, but the military bureaucrats wanted to keep everything hush hush and it didn't extend as far as the Pegasus galaxy.

"I understand."

"Thank you."

"I can debrief you on what's happened here in your absence if you want? That is, if you're not too hung-over." She smiled to let him know that it was playful chiding.

Sheppard nodded, "Yeah sure." She began to speak but he was just watching her mouth move, forming different curves and shapes and not hearing the sounds. He was distracted; too tired to tell her so and instead he found his mind drifting back to his first briefing with Stark all those months ago.

The journey on the Daedalus had not been a pleasant one. Being stuck in closed confinement with Colonel Stark hadn't been Sheppard's idea of fun. Stark had berated him on past missions, somehow he had gained access to their reports, he had told him none succinctly that he would have to get his hair cut to make it regulation and he had warned that he wouldn't be well received when he arrived in Afghanistan. After all, he had disappeared for a long time, and was now going to be returning with a promotion and no flight time in his log. People would ask questions as to how that was even possible.

The SGC was unfamiliar to Sheppard. He'd only been there a handful of times and he never really felt as though he belonged there. As he was led down to a lower section of Cheyenne Mountain, he smoothed down his Atlantis uniform and realised he wouldn't be wearing it for a while.

He arrived at a door and was ushered inside by Stark. There were two men sitting behind a table, coffee mugs steaming at their hands and reports strewn about in front of them.

"Lt Colonel Sheppard."

They didn't supply names, just offered him a seat, and ploughed into the briefing as if he were just another superfluous piece of paperwork.

Stark stood behind him like his shadow, watching proceedings with his arms crossed.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you've been recalled to earth," one of the men spoke without looking up.

Sheppard clasped his hands together and acknowledged both men when he said, "I must admit. I'm a little curious."

"You should be a little more than…curious," said Stark from behind him.

"As I'm sure you're aware this matter will be on a need to know basis," said one of the men as he reached for his coffee. He watched Sheppard over the top of his coffee cup.

"I'm the one that's going to know right?" asked Sheppard. He was tired. He hadn't been given the opportunity to change or even shower and shave and as he bought his hand up to rub his jaw line he could feel the days old stubble residing there.

The man before him smiled, "Yes. You're essentially our…" he paused, searching for the right words, and then said, "…specialist."

He reached down into a bag beside his chair and placed something onto the table in front of Sheppard. He was careful not to drop it and let it rest atop their paperwork.

"Do you know what that is?"

Sheppard licked his lips, examined the object before him, and then looked back to Stark to see if he knew what it was.

"Colonel?"

"Yeah," he said with a firm nod, "It's Wraith."

"John?"

Sheppard looked up at Elizabeth as she dashed away his private reverie.

"Are you okay?"

He shifted in his chair and nodded, "I'm fine."

Elizabeth had perched on the desk in front of him and he hadn't noticed it, "Ok, what have I been talking about?"

Sheppard sat up straighter and tried to think, "Uh…..Atlantis?"

Elizabeth reached out for his shoulder, "Perhaps you should get some coffee, or sleep, and I'll brief you later."

Sheppard wanted to argue that he was fine, but he had obviously zoned out, and it seemed futile to fight her. "Yeah, I could do with some coffee," he admitted as he stood up slowly. His side felt stiff as he stood and it pulled on his ribs.

"You know, I will listen if you need to talk," she said as she returned to her seat.

"I know," he said.

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Sheppard had grabbed a mug of coffee and hurried back to the gate room. He had new recruits waiting for him to begin their induction. He wasn't looking forward to it.

To that end, he wasn't in any rush. They were all huddled around by the gate, talking and chattering excitedly, and he was finishing his coffee up on the balcony watching over them. They had failed to notice that their commanding officer was watching them yet.

He felt a presence and Mckay leant against the balcony next to him, "I've been looking for you everywhere," he said.

"I've been around," said Sheppard.

"So you haven't been hiding?" said Mckay with a sidelong glance.

Sheppard took a long sip of his coffee and watched Mckay over the rim.

"I mean you were pretty hammered last night," he didn't even attempt to regulate the volume of his voice.

Sheppard nearly choked as he swallowed, "Could you keep your voice down."

"Hey, you can thank me anytime. I mean, I only carried you back to your room last night."

"No you didn't," said Sheppard. He felt strangely dislocated from the conversation. He just couldn't get invested enough in it to care and it worried him. Ever since he'd got back he'd felt off keel and distant.

"Okay, so Ronon helped," he said.

"You've had your fun. I don't want it mentioned again," Sheppard said.

From below he suddenly became aware of raised voices and as he peered over the balcony he could see that two of his recruits were stepping up to one another, squaring up for a fight.

"What's going on down there?" said Mckay with a sigh.

"I don't know," said Sheppard distractedly.

"Figures it's the testosterone laced military guys who are fighting."

Sheppard descended the steps as quickly as he could and watched as the small group closed in around the two fighting soldiers. Their voices were loud and echoing through the room and Sheppard wanted to put a stop to it before it could escalate further.

He pushed his way through the crowding bodies and was about to tell them to break it up when one of the soldiers reeled around and before he could react he was hit in the face. His head snapped back, his legs crumbled beneath him and he fell to the ground, jarring his ribs in the process. He could feel the blood running out of his nose and over his lips as he looked up at his recruits.

One of the soldiers, the one who had hit him, held up his hands in a placating gesture and his eyes went wide in horror, "Oh my god. I am so sorry," he said.

Sheppard shrugged off the hands which tried to help him up and he straightened up, hissing when his side ached. It had borne the brunt when he had fallen. "What the hell is going on here?" He stood in the centre of them and moved in a tight circle.

"We were having a …..disagreement," said the soldier.

Sheppard recognised an element of himself in the young man standing before him. Cocky, confident and self sacrificing. "What are your names?"

"Adams."

"Jefferies."

Sheppard placed a hand on his side and licked the blood off his lips.

"Do you want me to call Carson?" he heard Mckay shout down from the balcony. He ignored him.

"The rest of you go. I'll assign you onto the roster later. You two-"

"I'm so sorry."

"You two," he repeated barely suppressing his anger, "-follow me," he said turning on his heel and stalking up the stairs towards the conference room.

Elizabeth had come out of her office and was standing at the top of the stairs, "John, what happened?"

He merely held a finger up and walked past her. She watched as two rather scared looking soldiers followed him into the debriefing room.

When the doors had closed, Sheppard turned around slowly, breathing through his mouth.

"I can't tell you how bad this looks," said Sheppard as he faced the two men standing in front of him.

"I'm-"

"Did I tell you to speak?" Sheppard was angry, barely concealing it, and his head was now throbbing. "I'm assuming you didn't see that your commanding officer was watching you?" There was no answer, "Because I'm sure if you had, then you wouldn't have started a fist fight." He hated the way that he was sounding like Colonel Stark. He couldn't seem to control it, perhaps he'd spent too long with the guy, or perhaps he truly had been jaded by his last mission. He closed his eyes and took in a deep, calming breath. "Why were you fighting?"

Jefferies stepped forward, "We were arguing over who was going to go off-world first. Sir." At least he had the grace to look embarrassed and he flushed red.

"Neither one of you," said Sheppard, "For a long time."

"We're really sorry," said Adams.

"Sorry doesn't cut it. I don't need punk ass kids acting like idiots. This isn't a playground. I won't have my men squabbling in the gate room."

He paced back and forth, his hand up at his nose to try and staunch the blood, "If you're not going to take this seriously, you should consider going back on the Daedalus. I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour." He leant against the table, "Get out of here. I want you to go to your quarters until I can think of a suitable punishment for you. And trust me, it won't be half as exciting as going off-world."

"Yes sir."

"Thank you, sir."

Sheppard watched the two men leave quickly. Elizabeth leant against the doorway in their place.

"What was that all about?"

"Just getting some things clear."
"The whole gate room heard," she said, "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm going to get this cleared up."

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Sheppard entered his quarters and went straight into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror and could recognise in himself an anger which he had never seen before. His eyes looked cold and dead and his face was formed into hard lines. He looked older than his years, dark circles were visible under his eyes and he couldn't stop shaking. He gave his nose a prod and saw that it was mainly cosmetic. Instead of scrubbing the blood off, he turned off the water, and walked back into his bedroom. He stood in the centre of the room, "Shit!" he called out and kicked his bed for good measure. He couldn't keep his emotions under control much longer, every hour was a strain on the exterior he had painted on and it was getting harder.

His mind reeled back to the last time he had been struck in the face. He could feel the white hot flashes of pain, could hear the jeering and could remember every sensation as if it was yesterday.

He was panting hard, his breath coming out in strained gasps as his memories gave him a cruel reminder.

He sat down in the centre of his room, "Come on Sheppard. Pull yourself together."

TBC

Okay so you'll have to keep reading to piece together what's going on with our Shep. Please review and let me know what you think.