A/N: Many, many thanks to ladygris, her spouse, Lithane, dwparsnip and Shadows-of-Realm for all of their assistance with this chapter. I'm especially thankful for the longwinded email and IM sessions with ladygris. I helps to have someone as a sounding board for ideas, not to mention having someone tell you you're straying too far from the original premise and moving into the Twilight Zone.

Gracias,

~Sandy

Not a Hero

Chapter 2

The Past Is Just a Guidepost

Jennifer and Woolsey appeared in the Gate Room at the SGC and were immediately escorted to the commander's office by the ever-present Walter Harriman. The leader of the SGC stood and shook their hands.

"Jennifer. Mr. Woolsey. Have a seat." General Samantha Carter gestured them to the chairs facing the desk. "What can I do for you?"

"Ah…we need your help. We have a patient at the facility that is unlikely to make it another forty-eight hours and…"

"And you were hoping I'd use the healing device on him." Sam tapped the desk in front of her thinking it over. "I assume you're talking about Detective Sheppard."

"Yes. Rodney's newest pet project." Jennifer crossed her knees and linked her hands around them.

Sam picked up a sheaf of papers a half inch thick and dropped it on the desk with a slap. "Rodney's report on the incident, not including his recommendations concerning Sheppard."

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "At least it wasn't a verbal report. He'd still be talking."

"Don't I know it." Sam got up and went around the desk to perch on the corner. "You're absolutely sure he won't make it?"

With a shrug, Jennifer nodded. "Aside from the bullet wounds, there was internal bleeding from the blast and a serious concussion, all complicated by his preexisting conditions. Dehydration, high cholesterol, anemia, and he hasn't been to a dentist in who knows how long. I could go on, but you'll have my full report tomorrow. We've repaired everything as best we could, but we could only do so much. Not to mention all the incidents from his past that have brought him to this place. He'll need lots of therapy."

"The OAB would consider it a great favor if you could do this for us, General." Woolsey was good at his job, proving it now by actually giving the impression that he was completely on board with whatever Rodney had planned. "Quid Pro Quo."

Sam nodded in agreement and checked the time. "I've got drills and inspections in two hours. Let's do this so I can get back."

While Woolsey remained stoic, Jennifer allowed her breath to rush out in relief as they followed Sam first to the storage area where she collected the healing device then to the Gate Room. They didn't need to leave her office to be transported. It just seemed right that they leave from the place that so many had travelled from in the last twelve years.

~~O~~

Ana was dozing off in her chair when the monitor registered an increase in Sheppard's vital signs. It wasn't enough to set off the alarms, but her ears were attuned to the slow steady pace of his heartbeat. And when that increased, she came instantly awake. He'd opened his eyes briefly when she adjusted his position in the bed and checked his IV, but went right back to sleep without saying a word.

She watched his face, relaxed in sleep and mentally recalled what she'd read about him. Shaking her head, she walked down the hall to speak to Derek.

~~O~~

John was in court sitting at the defendant's table, a bored public defender at his side. They stood when the judge came in and listened while the man advised the court that he, John T. Sheppard, age twenty, newly expelled from Stanford University, had offered to join the military in lieu of jail time. With one crack of the gavel, his entire life had changed.

Suddenly, the stuffy courtroom blurred and distorted, turning into his boyhood home, a sprawling single-story ranch with a pool, stables and lots of land surrounding it. He was standing before a white coffin, flowers of every kind filling the room with an overpowering fragrance. One-half of the coffin was open showing the body of his dead father, Patrick Sheppard. He looked down into the face of the man he'd once idolized and eventually came to despise for his rigid stance on how John should conduct his life. His white hair was perfectly arranged, just like his life, the way he'd wanted his son's lives to be. The eyes opened and his father sat up, causing John to take a alarmed step back. "Dad?"

"Why are you here, John?"

"The heart attack. I…"

"You've been a disgrace to this family since long before you stole that car." An arm came up, one finger pointing at him.

"I didn't…steal…the…car, dad. I've told you that over and over, but you wouldn't listen. You never listened to me. It was…"

"Nothing you've done or could do will ever measure up to your brother. He was always the good son, the one I could be proud of." Eyes the same color as his own followed him as he went to the door. John stumbled to a halt when his dead father appeared in front of him, still with that same uncompromising and inflexible expression he'd seen the last time they'd been together, that he'd seen every time they'd spoken until the day he'd left. "You've brought shame, dishonor and disappointment to us for the last time. Leave! You're not wanted here!"

John stepped around his father running from the room and found himself standing with his hands on the trunk of a cherry Chevy Corvette while a cop patted him down. Taking first his right hand then his left, the cop handcuffed him as his partner read him his rights.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…"

~~O~~

Alarms blared through the ICU just as Jennifer, Woolsey and Sam arrived. Derek was already administering a sedative. John stopped writhing though the pain was emotional, not physical, but the medical staff had no way of knowing. They just saw the results of him reliving traumatic events from his life.

~~O~~

The cabin of the chopper was filled with smoke, crying and sobbing. The small helicopter was on its side on top of the remains of an American military convoy. The rebels began shooting just as John was bringing them in for a landing causing them to crash.

Pulling his harness off, John kicked open the cockpit door that was masquerading as the ceiling and levered himself out. He wiped the blood out of his left eye, feeling a lump begin to rise, coughed a few times then climbed up to stand on the bent skid to open the door of the cabin. "Hey, you guys okay? Hey!" Still on top of the Deuce and its occupants, it tilted slightly, metal scraping against metal.

When he got to where he could look inside, all he could see was broken bodies and blood tangled together. Someone was still alive because moaning came from somewhere within, but most were dead. Bile hit the back of his throat but he forced it down. He jumped to the ground and circled the cockpit while soldiers and medics swarmed over the area. From underneath, the legs of at least two people and the arm, shoulder and sightless eyes of another protruded, the aircraft having crushed them on impact. Somehow he knew there was a fourth soldier also killed by the chopper's weight.

Smoke went in his face obscuring his vision and choking him. "Caitlin? Cait!"

The smoke did its job of stealing oxygen and he collapsed onto his knees, barely conscious, hands pressed to the window peering through a jagged hole. Inside, a head covered with short red hair lifted up, a shard of Plexiglas jutting from her forehead, the blue eyes staring at him, blood running down her face and into the collar of her BDU. "This is your fault, John. We're dead because of you!"

Wheeling away from the accusing face of the woman he'd risked his life and military career for, he found himself surrounded by the bloody, torn and dismembered bodies of the eight civilians and four military, including Caitlin, who'd died in the failed rescue attempt. All were pointing and telling him it was his fault…his fault…his fault…

~~O~~

John felt a hand on his cheek then it moved to take his hand, the one without the IV. "Sh! Calm down. It's okay, Detective. You're safe."

The soothing words in the sweet voice he remembered from before worked in conjunction with the sedative calming John, his vitals dropping down to their previous low levels. He opened his eyes just enough to see, well, it had to be a hallucination. Standing over his bed were two of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. Both were blonde, one long and the other short. One in scrubs and the other in khaki. One with eyes the color of very good whiskey and the other the blue of a summer sky. One amused and the other…not.

He licked his dry lips and closed his eyes, waited a few seconds and opened them again.

"Detective Sheppard, are you alright? Are you in pain?"

Giving a small shake of his head, he pulled the oxygen mask off. "Am I dead?"

Jennifer's eyebrows drew together in concern. "Dead? Why would you think that?"

Now John opened his eyes all the way even though the brightness of the room made his head pound. Looking from Jennifer to Sam and back again, he let his gaze linger on the young doctor, one side of his mouth lifted in a smile. "Because from here it looks just like…heaven."

Sam and Jennifer gave him identical eye rolls with Sam speaking for the first time. "Does that overly obvious charm work on many women, Detective?"

Shrugging, John tried to adjust his position and found that it didn't hurt as much as he thought it should. "Not really. But I'm dying. Thought it was worth a shot." Holding up her left hand, Sam wiggled her fingers, letting the light sparkle off the platinum and diamonds on the third finger. Next she turned so he could see the patch on her shirt that gave her name and rank. "Oh. Sorry, General." He let his head roll so he could look at Jennifer though his vision was blurry. "Guess it's just you and me…Angel."

San Francisco

Golden Gate Park

Evan looked at his watch again. Every day at this time his partner would go into The Diner for coffee and a donut. That in itself wasn't such a big deal. The problem was how long Anthony was gone. The first time wasn't so bad. Fifteen minutes and they were on patrol again. But fifteen minutes stretched into seventeen, then to twenty…twenty-five. Now it was going on thirty-plus. It was against policy to leave their steeds unattended but someone had to roust the man from his caffeine and sugar coma.

Tying the horses to the light pole, he turned to see a boy watching him curiously. Lorne tucked his thumbs into his leather belt and stood up straight. At five feet nine, he'd barely passed the height requirements for the department. However, he'd graduated with a BS in Criminal Justice and 4.0 GPA. He excelled in forensic science, criminal procedure, criminal law, and ethics and discretion, seeming to have an almost instinctive capacity to see all the pieces to the puzzle and put them together in a coherent fashion. It bothered him that he'd let this thing with Anthony go so long before doing something about it.

Pushing his concerns about his partner aside, a sincere smile came over his face. He loved kids. His sister had two and they were always excited when they knew Uncle Evan was coming to visit. "Hey."

"Hey. Can I pet your horses?" the boy, nine, maybe ten, asked boldly.

Letting his arms ease down to his sides, Evan reached into a pocket and withdrew a zippered plastic bag. "Sure. Wanna feed them? Here you go." He handed the boy two carrot sticks. "The black fellow is a Tennessee Walker, name of Echo. His buddy's Whiskey and he's a Clydesdale mix."

The boy fed each horse and rubbed their noses, both horses nickering softly. "I love horses, but mom's scared of 'em so she won't take me to the stables to ride."

"Sorry to hear that." Evan stuck out his right hand. "Sergeant Lorne."

"Travis Donovan."

"Pleased to meet you, Travis." In the distance, a woman's voice called the boy's name causing his face to fall. "Better get back before she comes looking for you."

"Yeah. Thanks, Sergeant." The boy was gone before he could answer. Evan grinned at his retreating back and turned just in time to see Anthony exit the front door.

"Took you long enough. Grow the coffee beans yourself?" Evan untied the horses, passed Whiskey's reins back to his partner and leapt easily into the saddle.

"Funny, Lorne."

"We're scheduled as security for the game tonight. Let's get going before dispatch sends the Lieutenant around to check on us."

Area 52

Infirmary

When Sheppard winked at her, Jennifer blushed bright red to the roots of her hair, which he seemed to find immensely amusing as did Sam.

"Angel?"

Jennifer wanted to punch him but refrained. "It's a, uh, private joke. Right, Detective?"

"If you say so." He let his eyes linger on hers a moment before closing them again, he tried to take a deep breath. The incisions pulled a little but didn't hurt. I really should have stayed in shape. Well, too late now, Sheppard. You're goin' to hell and won't even leave a good-looking corpse.

Jennifer indicated Sam with a nod. "General Samantha Carter of Stargate Command."

"Stargate? McKay said something about that. Wormholes, travel to other planets. That kind of thing?" Neither woman responded so he continued with his previous thought. "By the way, thanks for the good drugs. I don't feel a thing. Not even my feet." He wiggled the appendages so she wouldn't think he couldn't move them.

"Just don't get used to it. You'll be up and around soon and you're not becoming an addict on my watch."

He surprised her by chuckling. "You and I both know this isn't gonna end well. The final curtain's coming down on the mostly pointless life of one John Thaddeus Sheppard." Yes, he had a sense of humor about dying, but that didn't stop the edge of bitterness from creeping into the last couple of words.

"Don't be so sure of that." Sam raised her left hand. Nestled in the palm was a circular object matte gold in color with a dark red jewel like a garnet at the center. In her left hand was another device that looked like a mutant crab, at least to John. "Just relax. This won't hurt…much."

~~O~~

Sam held the circular device over John's chest while passing the other back and forth over his torso down to his thighs and back making sure to cross over the worst of his injuries. A strange humming came from both, almost musical in tone and texture while blue and red light played over him.

Her eyes closed so she could concentrate, Sam started feeling dizzy. She figured it was a side effect of the device. They weren't sure how it worked though it appeared to transfer some of the operator's life energy to the recipient. However, that hadn't been the reason she'd hesitated when asked to help. She'd read Rodney's proposal regarding the man on the bed and wasn't certain she agreed. Again, that was only part of the reason. Her compassion would have led her to volunteer anyway, had she known his condition and had Jennifer not asked for help.

No. Her hesitation came from the fact that she'd never used the device herself. She'd only seen it used once by Nirrti when she'd cured Cassandra of the retrovirus and again by her dad when he'd tried to cure Daniel of the radiation poisoning that ultimately claimed his life. She still missed her friend.

The dizziness increased, yet Sam pressed on. This wasn't the first time she'd risked injury to herself to help someone she didn't know.

~~O~~

John began to feel warmth within his chest and abdomen at the locations of his injuries. The heat intensified almost to the point of pain, contractions in the muscles of his torso giving the appearance of a minor seizure yet Sam continued.

Squeezing his eyes shut and clamping his teeth together to keep from moaning out loud, he was surprised when the odd sensations suddenly stopped followed by a thump and Jennifer's voice calling out. "Sam!"

~~O~~

John opened his eyes to see another woman and a man rush into the room. Grabbing the rails, he pulled himself up far enough to see Carter sprawled on the floor unconscious, taking note that he was able to do so now whereas he hadn't been able move hardly at all a few minutes ago.

Letting his head fall back to the pillow, he swore to himself. If she died because of him, this was it. He'd take steps to ensure no one was ever hurt by him again and inside his head, he began to make plans. Here in this hospital, he should be able to find what he needed. Skills he'd acquired in his troublemaking youth would serve him well. There were just some things you never forgot.

Doctors, nurses and other medical personnel came and went performing all sorts of tests on him while behind the curtain they did the same to the General. Apparently he was well enough now to move because instead of bringing in the portable scanner every couple of hours as they had been doing, he was helped into a wheelchair and taken down the hall.

He lay down on the padded table and closed his eyes as the scanning mechanism slid back and forth over his body. A few minutes later he heard Jennifer's soft footfalls enter and the murmur of her voice mixed with the deeper tones of a man. They seemed to be more than satisfied with the results.

He clasped his hands together over his stomach circling his thumbs first in one direction then reversing trying to listen in on their conversation. But they weren't novices at discussing a patient in his or her presence. Only a few words reached his ears and they weren't at all helpful.

John's stomach grumbled reminding him that he hadn't eaten in more than forty-eight hours, though that wasn't unusual for him. Food had never been a big priority causing him to be about fifteen pounds under his ideal weight. He ate to fuel his body and for no other reason, consuming whatever products were served at the nearest fast food franchise, eating without tasting and just enough to get by. Without fail, he always ordered the number six combo, regular size. The rest of the time he drank coffee or water. He lived in the desert after all.

Most people who didn't know him and went by his appearance would probably think he was an alcoholic as well as a gambling addict. He had the occasional two fingers of Jack just to be sociable, but seldom more than that.

In the military, he'd been at the top of his game physically though not mentally, often going on runs with his squad or alone. Now, when it came time to run down a perp, he became winded much quicker than some of the older officers on the force. Naturally, it brought to mind his last foot chase through the casino after the strange man that had turned out to be an alien called a Wraith, a creature from a galaxy three million light years away.

Stilling his hands, John rubbed his cheek and chin feeling the beginnings of stubble. Someone had shaved him, probably while he was still out following the surgery. The vision of the blonde doctor he called Angel carefully spreading white foam over his face and wielding a straight razor with surgical precision while he slept caused parts of him that should have remained dormant to react in predictable fashion. At least he was wearing a gown instead of those scrub things that provided no way to hide what was happening.

To distract himself, he sat up and swung his legs over the side. A brief moment of dizziness came over him then was gone. Tentatively, he touched the location of the first GSW through the cotton, the one on his chest. Though there was some pain, it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. Pulling the neck of the gown away, he peeked inside and saw a reddish area slightly larger than a quarter with a textured surface. The same hand dropped down and reached inside to touch the spots on his upper and lower abdomen finding what felt like similar wounds. He had a high tolerance for pain but only remembered feeling the first one. After that, adrenaline had fueled his body, blocking the pain impulses and increasing his physical performance allowing his fight or flight instincts to take over. And he'd chosen flight. He had run for his LIFE! In the end it had been futile, but he'd tried.

He slid off the edge of the scanner bed and stood on his own for the first time since he'd tried to get away from the burning trailer and almost screamed in pain when every muscle in his back tightened up. Bending forward to ease the pressure on his battered spine, he worked his way to the wheelchair by holding on to anything that looked solid enough to take the strain pulling his wheeled IV pole along with him. His legs and arms hurt too, as if he'd been beaten.

He was weak but within that weakness he could feel the capacity to gain strength signaling that there were better days ahead. Maybe. He'd reserve judgment until he found out what these people wanted in exchange for saving his pitiful life.

John had just sat down when Jennifer left by another door and he knew she was avoiding him. The other doctor, Slater, came around the big machine. "Detective, you aren't supposed to be up and around without assistance."

"Had to let the cat out."

Confused, Derek tossed a blanket over John's lap, unlocked the brakes and pushed him from the room. "Cat? I'm not up on the current lingo. Is that some sort of euphemism?"

"No. Just my way of saying I was bored."

"Next time, just call. We'll be happy to take you where you want to go, Detective."

"In that case, can we hit the casino?" He rubbed his hands together. "I'm feelin' lucky."

San Francisco

Golden Gate Park

Here it was Wednesday and Evan was already so damn tired it wasn't funny but at least they were off the next few days. The game he and Anthony had chaperoned last night had gone into overtime. He hadn't gotten into bed until nearly midnight. Hiding a yawn behind his hand, he counted to sixty and checked his watch again. If Anthony stayed in the diner more than fifteen minutes he would go in after him.

Movement in the corner of his eye turned his head in time for him to see Anthony slip out the side exit and disappear into the stand of bushes. He dismounted swearing the man would be on report if he was getting a little afternoon delight while they were on duty. Tying Echo and Whiskey's reins to a light pole, he crept silently in the direction he'd seen his partner go. When he got close, he heard voices, both male. They had this eerily deepened register that echoed even though they spoke quietly to each other.

His forehead crinkled as his thoughts chased each other. Coming back to himself, he heard them take their leave of each other. Moving backward, Evan went to the horses and waited for Anthony to return. When he did, they mounted and rode off on their rounds as if nothing odd had occurred.

"Dispatch, Twenty-Kilo six and seven, we are ten-eight at The Diner headed East."

"Ten-four, Twenty-Kilo six and seven."

TBC