A/N: As always, mucho thanks to ladygris for her help with this chapter. It's greatly appreciated as is her friendship.

I know this is a little early as I usually post on Tuesday and Saturday, but I wanted to get it out now so I can take the next couple of days to myself. Hope you don't mind.

Namaste,

~Sandy

Not a Hero

Chapter 21

Chimera

John smacked the steering wheel. Dammit! Killing Lorne hadn't been part of the plan. At least not yet. The plan had been to trick one of Kenny's guys into doing it. Not this. But there was nothing left to do now except go forward.

He'd arranged to meet the others at the hotel, each of them taking a different route from the cabin just in case. Crossing a bridge, he stopped in the middle just before the drawbridge and got out. Standing there watching the water, he contemplated many scenarios and finally found one he could live with. Pulling his weapon out, he ejected the magazine and dropped both into the water. The height of the bridge made the sound of the objects hitting the water sound small, as if they were just rocks, not evidence in a homicide. Pulling Lorne's weapon from his waistband, he shoved it into the holster and snapped the safety strap over it.

Back behind the wheel, his stomach growled reminding him it was long past dinner time. His appetite was gone though he would eat just to keep up his front as a cold-blooded killer willing to do anything for money and to protect himself. He took out his phone, his thumb poised over a specific speed dial key, organizing his thoughts.

"It's Sheppard. I'm gonna need your help. Things didn't go as planned…Lorne's dead…Yes, I know, but it couldn't be helped." He held the phone away from his ear as the other party yelled. "His body won't be found for a while so don't expect to hear about it on the news any time soon. But now they know I'm not the top dog. I expect they'll wanna meet the person in charge before the deal will go through…Let's get into recriminations later…I'll keep you in the loop." Hitting the end key with a jab of his thumb, he tossed the device in the passenger seat, trying not to think about how it had all gone wrong…again and it was his fault…again.

Washington, D.C.

The Home of Lt. Col. Paul Davis

The back yard was well-kept though not interestingly laid out. Flowers bloomed in the corners, along the back of the house and around a large shade tree in the exact middle. Underneath the tree sat an old fashioned swing just big enough for three adults. Tonight, it was occupied by two, the swing moving lazily back and forth.

Paul had his arm around Melissa, her head on his shoulder as they watched the stars come out. They'd been sitting just like this since after dinner, over an hour, without speaking, just being quiet together. He'd cooked for her, something no other man had ever done, unless you counted picking up Chinese take-away and going to his place, which she didn't.

"Paul?"

"Hmm?" His hand slid down her bare arm below the sleeve of her top and back up again.

"You won't freak out if I tell you something, will you?" She felt a small chuckle where they touched.

"I work for the SGC. Not much freaks me out."

"Good." She shifted in her seat. "That day on the plane, I'd seen you before we boarded and hoped we'd sit close enough to at least be able to talk. It was just my good fortune that we ended up sitting next to each other." Her hand came down to rest on his thigh. He stayed silent so long she thought he wasn't going to respond.

"Promise you won't…freak out?"

"No." She let her tone tell him she was joking.

"Luck had nothing to do with it. I used my high level government ID to get the person sitting next to you to trade seats with me."

"Paul!"

"I had to do something. You were the most beautiful woman I'd seen in a long time and I just had to meet you. I thought if it seemed like an accident, you wouldn't Red Light me before I could work my considerable charm on you."

Melissa turned within the circle of his arm, one hand on his chest. "Very smooth, Colonel Davis. You understand that your confession means you're getting lucky tonight, right?"

Taking her hand from his chest, he kissed her fingers. "That wasn't my intention, but if you insist…"

"I do." She reached up to give him a sweet kiss then snuggled closer, her head back on his shoulder. "But later. Let's just sit here a while longer."

Palm Bay, NC

Seaside Bar and Grill

"…and then John here says, 'Kenny, you idiot! How could you steal the dean's car?' and I shrug and say, 'He left the keys in the ignition.' It was like the man was saying 'Here, Kenny. Take it for a spin.' So I did."

Dak, Fischer and Kenny laughed as if it were the funniest thing ever. John had tried to get into the spirit of the old days, had even managed a chuckle or two. The truth was he felt anything but camaraderie for his former friend. In his mind it was Kenny who'd been on the floor bleeding out earlier, not Lorne.

He and Kenny had known each other since they were kids. Their parents were good friends, running in the same circles as all the other disgustingly wealthy families in Huntington Beach. However, wealth didn't keep kids like Kenny from making bad choices. At any other time in his life, John might have laughed with him, but not today. The story brought all the memories of that day back with a clarity that startled him.

He'd been home for Spring Break from Stanford and had just had a big fight with his dad over his grades. Sure, they weren't the best, passing-barely, but that wasn't good enough. Not for the son of Patrick Sheppard, owner, president and CEO of Sheppard Industries. Dad had been grooming him to take over the family business never once asking his eldest son what he wanted. And John had gone along with it, for a while, except for the fact that his dad had wanted him to go to Harvard instead of Stanford.

He saw his younger self taking the keys away from Kenny, climb into the driver's seat and head back toward the private school they'd both attended while in high school. He hadn't gone more than a mile when the police pulled him over. They'd searched the car and found nothing incriminating except the fact that John had been driving a vehicle that didn't belong to him.

It didn't matter that he was headed back toward the school to return it to its rightful owner. All anyone had cared about was that John didn't have permission to be behind the wheel and only his fingerprints had been on the car. That's when he realized that Kenny had been wearing gloves while driving the Chevy Corvette. It wasn't until much later that he'd found out that his "friend" had gotten involved in a car theft ring and the dean's Corvette was a hot commodity on the black market.

His father had refused to send a lawyer or allow anyone to bail him out. Joe, the gardener, and his wife, Inez, had come to see him and he'd been glad to see his friends, but absolutely refused to let them jeopardize their positions on the staff by going again his father's wishes. So in jail he'd stayed until his court date.

Beside him had been a bored public defender who didn't believe him when he said he was innocent, just like his father and Dave. The man had wanted him to plead guilty and throw himself on the mercy of the court. Instead, he'd convinced the guy to ask the judge to commute his sentence to time served if he agreed to join the military in lieu of prison time. He'd never been so relieved when his plea bargain had been accepted.

And that's when his life went completely to hell. Not that it hadn't been headed that way until now. This just completed the trip.

~~O~~

After dinner, just as John had predicted, Kenny insisted on meeting John's "boss", the head man in the organization. They would meet downstairs just before sunset giving John plenty of time to make all the arrangements.

Kenny, Dak and Fischer went into their room, Lorne's room, and spent the next couple of hours ordering room service and getting drunk. They also bought clothes and the company of three semi-attractive young ladies they'd met at the bar before moving the party to the room.

Rolling his eyes at the noise from next door, John was glad he'd had all of Lorne's stuff packed and moved. Going downstairs, he grabbed a beer at the Seaside Bar and wondered out onto the beach as far from everyone else as possible. More than one scantily dressed female had tried to get his attention. And though he had been tempted, he'd politely brushed them all off. He'd even started talking to one but when her face transformed into Angel's, he'd sent her on her way saying he had a conference call he had to get to. Which was not a lie.

John hooked the Bluetooth over his left ear and dialed. "It's Sheppard…" he rolled his eyes though the person on the other end couldn't see. "We've been over that…Yes, you'll get the details in my official report…They still want to meet you…Yeah…Well, here's what I was thinking…"

Colorado Springs, CO

The Carter-McKay Home

The only illumination in the nursery came from a pair of lamps in the shapes of spaceships, one on each of the matching changing dressers, gifts from their Godfathers. Livie was in her crib sleeping off her last bottle and diaper change. Danny, on the other hand, fussed and fidgeted while Rodney took off his soiled T-shirt. When he removed the diaper, he started making that funny sound that meant he was gearing up for a major screaming fit if he didn't get his way.

Rodney had been doing his best to take care of the twins without waking Sam. She'd been so exhausted when he'd returned from an emergency trip to Atlantis that he'd insisted she take leave. After some considerable arguing back and forth, she'd finally agreed. Their home wasn't far from the base and they could get there in just a few minutes if an emergency came up. Less if one of the ships was in orbit.

His left hand on Danny's stomach to keep him in place while he kicked his legs and cried Rodney searched for the baby powder, finally locating it too far away to reach without letting go of his son. "Crap," he muttered under his breath. Glancing over his shoulder at the door he decided it was worth the risk.

Staring at the container, he concentrated. It lifted jerkily into the air and floated toward him. His grin of triumph was wiped away and the container fell spilling talc all over floor when he heard his wife's voice say accusingly, "Rodney!" Sam picked up the container and shook it at her husband. "You promised!"

"Sorry. But I couldn't reach it and didn't want him to wake you."

Sam took in Rodney's repentant expression and relented. She finished the diapering, picked up Danny and carried him around the room humming softly to him. He was asleep within a couple of minutes. "I know. Just be careful how and when you use it. Especially when the kids get older."

He moved quietly around the room cleaning up the mess and disposing of the diapers. "Have they done anything?" Rodney didn't have to say who theywere. When he used that tone, it was always about the kids.

She shrugged. "Not since before they were born. At least, not that I've seen. We'll just have to deal with the telekinesis if or whenthe time comes."

Rodney stood over his daughter's crib, carefully drawing one fingertip down her smooth cheek. Sam came to stand next to him, Danny now asleep in her arms. "Our little miracles."

Palm Bay Executive Airport

The four men watched the Lear taxi down the runway and come to a stop. The door opened and a uniformed man in his thirties stepped out. The name tag over his right breast pocket said "B. Miller." Nodding, he said, "He wants to see you." The man stood at the bottom of the steps, hands clasped in front of him staring straight ahead.

John went inside and a few minutes later he emerged, followed by a distinguished man in his late fifties. "Kenny, Dak, Fischer. This is…Woolsey."

Kenny laughed and the other two snickered. "Is that a first or last name?"

Woolsey, in an expensive suit and subtle burgundy striped tie, didn't change his severe expression. Just flicked his eyes to the side. "Just Woolsey." He didn't offer to shake hands, his right one in his pants pocket.

With a shake of his head, John indicated Kenny should shut up and for once he did.

"Sheppard has carte blanche to negotiate for the…merchandise. I'd advise you not to take advantage of my generosity. But if all goes well, perhaps we can do business again one day."

The three weapons brokers kept their eyes on Woolsey, not once looking at John. "Of course."

After a significant look at John, Woolsey returned to the Lear, the steps retracted and the door closed. It taxied to the runway and took off. Time on the ground: less than fifteen minutes.

~~O~~

The four men had dinner together spending the time discussing the terms of their business proposition. It hadn't been easy, but eventually they arrived at a deal that worked to everyone's satisfaction. John excused himself, leaving the others to close down the bar.

"Oh, man! This is such a sweet deal. We are gonna be set for life!" Fischer knocked back another glass of imported beer, something he only indulged in when there was cause for celebration. And tonight was definitely one of those nights.

"Don't get too full of yourself just yet." Kenny leaned closer, lowering his voice. "I received a call from Woolsey. Seems he's figured out Sheppard's the one that killed Lorne and wants us to remedy the situation."

Dak snorted derisively. "Why would he do that? Lorne was…"

"…his son." Kenny waited for the shock to begin to wear off before speaking again. "Yeah. He's a cold sonofa****. Wants revenge real bad and willing to pay top dollar. We do this right and we're in on the biggest thing since cell phones and laptops. What do you say?"

Fischer and Dak didn't even consult each other. "We're in."

Nodding, Kenny lifted his glass of 10 Year Old Laphroaig Scotch and took a sip. He may have been the scum of the earth, but he still remembered what it had been like to steal the good stuff from his dad's liquor cabinet. Gotta get me a better class of friends when this is over. He snickered to himself when he thought of the look on Sheppard's face when he took him out. The man deserved to die slowly but being as he'd been such a good sport about taking the rap all those years ago, he'd make it quick…maybe.

~~O~~

Standing on the balcony, John looked out over the beach watching the palm tree branches sway lazily in the light breeze off the Atlantic. Though it was night, he could see people on the shore, singles, couples and groups. One hand came out of his pocket, snagging his phone from the railing. He dragged a finger over the screen until he came to the voice recordings. There was only one, he touched the play icon and listened to Kenny's voice saying once more that it had been him, not John who'd stolen the car. He shut it off with satisfaction then accessed the stored photos. Scrolling through, he finally located the one he wanted. It was a candid shot of Angel sitting in the Commissary with Lorne. Using his thumb and forefinger on the touch screen, he zoomed in until she was all he could see.

Her brown eyes sparkled with laughter and her skin glowed. This was the Angel he wanted. More than that, he wanted her to want him in return. And though he'd made the decision to take the risk, he still wasn't certain he was the best thing for her. She was sweet and kind with an air of innocence about her that made him want to protect her from all the bad things in the universe, even if one of those bad things was himself. He wasn't any of the things she was. No one had ever accused him of being sweet or kind and he hadn't been innocent in so long he hardly remembered being anything but what he was now. Or rather what he'd been before something called a Wraith had shown up on his turf and began killing people.

Getting out of his clothes, he showered and lay down on the bed with just a towel around his waist. The cold water hadn't helped much so he threw the towel in the tub and pulled on a pair of boxers and a T-shirt. It wasn't until he was about to drift off that he realized he was wearing one of the shirts Angel had slept in and now her scent surrounded him. Freudian slip? Oh, what the hell. With a sigh of contentment, he fell asleep.

Early Afternoon

The Warehouse District

Not for the first time did John wish he had back-up. Woolsey had wanted to send a squad of Marines to follow at a discrete distance in case he got into trouble, but John insisted he'd be able to handle Kenny. Once he did that, the others were sure to fall in with the party line. Now he'd changed his mind and it was too late.

He followed the mint condition Dodge Daytona custom painted with Color-Shift Crystal Pearl in green, gold and burgundy down streets filled with cars parked along both sides. Dumpsters and loading docks were all that showed with the offices deep inside where you had to get past a bunch of burly dockworkers and crazed forklift drivers to reach them. That is until they reached the end of the dead end street.

The building looked like it hadn't been used in a couple of years, all but one of the doors and retractable gates heavily padlocked. And that's when he became nervous, his ears picking up every little sound wondering if he was about to be jumped by a band of thugs who'd kill him for the price of a Happy Meal.

"Sheppard? Come on." Kenny stood near a stack of crates that looked just like any other stack of crates with a few smaller boxes scattered here and there. He tossed a crow bar to Fischer and another to Dak. "Open that one."

The men got to work, the sound of nails giving way from the wood echoing in the enormous room. Digging down into the packing material, Kenny brought out an S-shaped device. John had never seen one in person and more than ever they looked like snakes. He suppressed a shudder as the device was passed to him. Recalling the video on how to activate it, he said, "Once stuns, twice kills, three times disintegrates."

"Yeah." Now Kenny was getting suspicious. "How'd you know that?"

Thinking fast, John said, "We like to know what we're getting before we even consider meeting the sellers. For all you told us, we could have been buying kids toys. And that's not what we're looking for."

Waving around at the room in general, Kenny snorted. "So try it out."

Shrugging, John looked for a target and located an old generator that had seen better days around the time John had graduated to the big boy potty. His finger found the trigger, the Zat practically jumping from his hand as it extended upward, whining through the power-up. Squeezing the trigger three times in rapid succession shot bolts of electricity at the generator. It sparked, the snap crackle making the hairs on John's neck stand up, then the generator was gone.

Trying not to show that he was overly impressed, the undercover agent brought his hand down to his side, starting to turn. "We'll take…" His words locked in his throat when a single arc of electricity hit him in the chest. His last thought before his consciousness winked out was, "Oh, crap!"

~~O~~

John came to slowly to find himself sitting on the cold, hard floor, his hands tied to a large pipe that ran along the length of the wall just above him. The enormous gauge covered in dust had a large red area meaning this thing had gotten very hot at one time. Hopefully it never would again. At least not while I'm here. Shaking his head cleared away the rest of the cobwebs that had infested his brain while he'd been out.

Standing in front of him, grinning, Kenny, backed-up by his cohorts, held one of the Zats as if he'd been doing it all his life. "Welcome back, Sheppard."

"Wish I could say it was nice to be here, but I wouldn't wanna lie." In spite of the circumstances, John grinned sardonically. "How about you turn me loose so we can get back to our little business transaction?"

"About that…" Kenny came over to crouch next to John, "…I think it's time to cut out the middle man-that's you, by the way-and do business directly with the head honcho. See, what you don't know is me and Woolsey have been talking since that little meet and greet yesterday. We made a little agreement. He knows you killed his son and asked me to handle your…disposal. In return, I move into your place and up a couple of tax brackets. Well, I would if I was paying taxes." He seemed to think that was hilarious until the sound of a door slamming startled all of them. "Go check it out. And stay together."

The other men nodded, pulled ordinary Magnums from the back of their waistbands and disappeared into the dull light filtering in through the windows near the ceiling three stories above, the only ones not boarded up.

"Where were we? Oh, yeah. I was about to thank you for taking the rap for me all those years ago. If you hadn't, I'd have been on my third strike by now and contemplating life in prison."

With a smile that held no real humor, John remarked, "Glad I could help. Though joining the military in lieu of prison wasn't exactly the fun 'n games I thought it'd be."

"Heard about that. Your dad's army of lawyers tried to keep it quiet, but word gets around. And here I thought I was a bad guy for killing eleven people for one reason or another. You did me one better."

It was an accident! I was trying to save them! John screamed in his head. How can you joke about ending people's lives as if it were nothing? They had families, friends, people who cared about them. Instead of saying those things, he settled for, "I've always been an over-achiever." That was apparently the wrong thing to say because Kenny's eyes darkened with anger.

"Well, Mr. Over-Achiever, I bet you didn't know it was me that called the cops on you after you drove off in the dean's cherry Corvette. It was either that or take a beating from the man who hired me to steal it. I'd already messed up once. With him there were no third chances." Kenny got to his feet, walking backward until he could easily see John's eyes.

"You've already been hit with this once. One more and you're a dead man. Then me and the boys are taking our merchandise and heading to the airstrip to wait for Woolsey. He's the one that wanted you dead. Me? I'd have settled for you going to jail, being paralyzed or living as a vegetable for the rest of your life." He aimed at John's head, his hand not wavering. "Say hello to your dad for me. Oh, I forgot. You and he aren't gonna end up in the same place. Pity."

"'Fraid I can't let you do that."

Though the voice was unfamiliar to Kenny, his aim stayed rock steady as he tossed a quick glance over his shoulder, eyes widening as if he'd seen a ghost. "But you're…"

"That's what we wanted you to think." The figure came closer passing into a small pool of light and stopping, a Zat in one hand pointed at Kenny. "You okay, Sheppard?"

John shrugged as if they were friends meeting on the street. "A little hungry. Didn't have lunch yet."

"How about that little place up the street from the hotel?"

"The one with the pirate theme?"

"Yeah." The man grinned.

"I'm there. You're buyin', right?"

The newcomer took another step forward, stopping when Kenny tensed again. "Put the Zat down, Kenny, untie Sheppard and this thing'll end without bloodshed."

Kenny finally found his voice again. "Who the hell are you?"

Fishing in the breast pocket of his jacket, the man pulled out a leather ID cover and flipped it open. "Special Agent Evan Lorne. And that's my partner you're about to shoot."

TBC

A/N: CHIMERA

1: a (capitalized) : a fire-breathing she-monster in Greek mythology having a lion's head, a goat's body, and a serpent's tail b : an imaginary monster compounded of incongruous parts

2: an illusion or fabrication of the mind; especially : an unrealizable dream a fancy, a chimera in my brain, troubles me in my prayer — John Donne

3: an individual, organ, or part consisting of tissues of diverse genetic constitution