Blood & Leather… Sheppard's turn!

Set not long after 'Remnants' but it could hardly be considered a tag, as I've not actually seen it yet. *cries*

There are spoilers but only the sort that *everyone* knows eg: Sheppard got whumped and we all know *who* by.

XXX Sheppard's POV XXX

Sheppard walked purposefully out the gates of the SGC. He'd just returned from Pegasus, and although he knew Cam was waiting for him, John found he just couldn't face his old buddy. When Cameron had being going through a bitch of a recovery, after his F302 crashed almost five years ago, Sheppard- the then Major; exiled to Antarctica- had risked yet another court marshal to visit his friend; to offer moral and occasionally physical support. John knew that Cam wanted to do the same for him in return. But just thinking about what had happened to him, made his skin crawl. He'd never felt so violated or more vulnerable in all his days. He'd decided to spend some time alone, getting his head sorted and working through his emotional shit. He was a very private person, so he knew Cameron would understand him not wanting to go straight out for a beer upon his return.

Ever since the Ancients had returned and kick him out of his home, John kept a small apartment in Colorado, not too far from Cam's place actually. It was rare that it was used, but it provided him with a base. Sure, you could say it was a waste of money to keep a place on when 95% of the time is was lying empty… but as he opened the stiff door with his key, he knew it was money well spent. His pad was nicely decorated, nothing girly, but well kept. There were blue chequered cushions on the sofa and a cactus slowly dying by the window. He drew back the heavy, brown curtains to let the light come bursting in and exhaled a breath he never even knew he'd been holding.

This place wasn't home, not like his beloved Atlantis, but it was a sanctuary for him. Sheppard pulled a chilled beer out of the fridge, opened it, took a long draft and leaned heavily against the counter-top. Not for the first time that day, he closed his weary eyes and watched the horrific images play out. With a rough shake of his head, John cursed and slammed his beer down, the bubbles fizzing so that beer overflowed the bottle and dripped onto his hand.

"Damn it!" he swore again and threw the offending bottle across the room, to smash in a rain pour of glass shards and chilled beer. John ran a hand through his hair, picked up his backpack from the wardrobe and began throwing the gear he would need haphazardly inside. He would go climbing. He'd prefer to go flying – not in his perfect jumper – but something a bit rough around the edges. Something that would *make* him feel alive. An osprey would be good. Regrettably he didn't have an osprey handy so rock climbing - freestyle- would just have to do.

Slinging his pack over his lean shoulders, Sheppard breezed out of the apartment and down to the car-lot where he kept a beat up old Volkswagen. It wasn't pretty, but it got you where you were going. In John's case, he was going to the old mountain trail; he could park up and spend the next few hours exhausting himself on the rock face. Good times.

As he felt the absolute *need* to feel, John had purposefully left his safety ropes at home. He was an accomplished climber, these cliffs were nothing compared to some of the places he'd scaled- including that one time on Atlantis; now that had been a buzz.

XXX (Cam's POV) XXX

Cameron was starting to get concerned. He'd heard rumours and read Sheppard's sparse mission report; Mitchell knew a succinct Shep was never a good sign. Unfortunately he'd been offworld when John had gated back…Teal'c said that he'd looked pale and withdrawn - again, never good signs with Sheppard. They had made arrangements for a guys' night out, Sheppard clearly needed to have a few beers, have some fun and maybe let it all out in the dead of night. Cam knew this, because Sheppard had done it for him.

Mitchell drove home, in the car this time, and stopped outside John's apartment, to see if his buddy was inside. He's searched the SGC until someone mentioned seeing Col Sheppard *walk* out of the gates. Now there's a man who's distracted; if he's walking 15miles to his place. Cameron fetched the spare key from the top of the window ledge and opened the door. He visits his buddy's place about once a month, just to check the cactus is still alive (barely) and that there's no sign of break-ins.

The broken glass on the floor shimmers and shines in the sunlight streaming in through the window. It took him a moment to realise the place hadn't been burgled; the owner caused the damage. "Oooh, that's not good!" he cringed. Ignoring the mess in the kitchen, Mitchell went to the wardrobe in the bedroom, where John kept his climbing gear.

"Oh for the love of…of…all things holy!"

Naturally, Shep had omitted his ropes. The damn fool that he was, going out climbing, while distraught without any safety ropes! What the hell! Cam snatched the ropes up from the floor and stormed out of the apartment block.

Cam was not entirely sure where Sheppard had gone, but when John was teaching him to climb, they'd always got to the old mountain trail. The rocks were easier there… so if you were going to be a moron and not use safety ropes, you might go there. Unless you were really suicidal. Mitchell hoped that John had the good sense to go where the rocks & cliff faces were relatively simple for an experienced climber. They might not be able to decide who the better flyer was, but there's no doubt that Sheppard was the natural climber. Cameron had always been a better swimmer though… old rivalries die hard, sometimes.

When Cameron had been ill, after his 302 crash and again last year, Sheppard had used climbing as an incentive to get better. He taught Cam to climb in a different way than the air force had. In the air force climbing is about survival… to Sheppard it offered freedom, not unlike that of flying. You still had the feeling that you were taking your life into your own hands… but it cost less and the views were always amazing. For John's sake he hoped he'd learned those lessons well enough. The mountain trail could be murderous to those who didn't know her. Cam was pretty well acquainted, having nearly died on the road below the cliffs about a year before. Sheppard had been the one to save him- wonders never cease, how friends can almost read each others minds when needed.

John's crappy Volkswagen was parked, unceremoniously at an angle on the road side. Cameron hurriedly called the SGC on his mobile,

"Sam? Hi, I might need a favour in a bit, could you hang on there until I call?"

"Sure, what this all about?"

"Hopefully nothing. Can you have a chopper ready to go too?"

"For nothing? You're gonna have to tell me more than that Cam!"

"I can't. It's private. A friend of mine may be in trouble… I'm not sure yet."

"You're talking about Sheppard aren't you?"

"You didn't hear it from me. The chopper?"

"No problem… and, good luck."

Throwing rope and a first aid kit in his backpack, Cameron began to climb.

more to come...