A/N: I can't believe I almost forgot to do this part.

Many thanks go out to ladygris for her wonderful and insightful Beta services. I know she's busy with RL issues, as are we all. That she took the time to look this chapter over and thereby stop me from making a minor faux pas, I am extremely grateful.

I'm also grateful for Lithane who caught a MAJOR mistake. Thank you!

Namaste,

Sandy

Not a Hero

Chapter 33

The Redemption of John Sheppard

Jennifer went back to the party thinking furiously about how she'd explain John and Evan's absence. Pasting on a smile that felt stiff and disingenuous, she joined the rest of the group from Area 52. "Who are we talking about?"

Before Woolsey could speak up, Tish grinned. "Sergeant Cooper and her new beau."

"Pardon?" The taller woman nodded to where Bobbie was again dancing with Rohan. "Oh. She and Evan are just friends. I'm sure he won't mind."

Woolsey waved his glass. "What happened to Sheppard and Lorne?"

"They, um…went for a beer."

Tish crossed her arms. "Oh, you'll have to do better than that. We saw how they lit out of here like their backsides were on fire."

"I meant they went for a…drive." That at least was partly the truth.

"They're not fighting again, are they?"

Laughing nervously, Jennifer touched her wrist where he mother's bracelet had been. "No, of course not." She turned to Sheila. "Since my date is MIA, would you mind if I danced with yours?"

Sheila gestured. "I don't if he doesn't."

Toby extended his elbow. "I'd be honored, Dr. Keller."

~~O~~

John sat in the open doors of one of the ambulances while an EMT looked him over, his face covered with an oxygen mask to combat the smoke inhalation. When Lorne had urged him to get up and move, he'd finally returned to the present, but in the back of his mind still lingered the memories from Afghanistan mixed with the discomfiture of his flashback. He didn't remember much of what he'd said, just that, for a few minutes, he'd returned to the scene of the crash. At one point he thought his hands had been covered with blood, but now all he saw was dirt and soot. No blood. It too had been a memory from when he'd tried to revive one of the children. It hadn't worked.

The EMT handed him some wipes to clean his hands and face and a cup of electrolyte-enriched liquid. Beside him lay his tux jacket having survived without a stitch out of place though it did get dirty. Next to it lay Evan's in the same condition.

Sipping the drink, which tasted awful, he waited for his partner to come back, a smirk on his face at witnessing his partner's ultimate weakness. He could see Evan talking with the police Lieutenant in charge of the accident scene. They shook hands and Evan headed his way.

Here it comes. The questions. The demands for answers.

He didn't want to deal with it tonight. He just wanted to get back to the hotel, crawl into bed and pull the covers up over his head. It would take a while to process what had happened, and Doc Adams would insist on talking about it. But he didn't want to. Not yet.

John heard his partner's footsteps rustling through the grass but kept his eyes on the ground sipping the drink. "How's Magee?"

"Alive. Barely."

"Pity."

"Broke his neck. Gonna be paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of his life."

"Good. He can spend the time thinking about what an asshole he's been." Just like me.

Evan leaned his shoulder on the open door of the ambulance watching as the one carrying Magee turned on its lights and pulled away from the scene. "You're nothing like him, you know."

Startled to hear those words from Evan, John did his best to cover his reaction with a snort. "Says who?"

~~O~~

"Jennifer, Woolsey, McKay, Doc Adams, if she didn't have to worry about doctor-patient confidentiality, Dora, Ana, Slater, Barb, the cleaning lady…" Evan waited for John to look at him so he'd see the sincerity in his eyes, "…me. Shall I go on?"

"Please don't."

Evan hadn't liked the tone of John's statement concerning Magee's prognosis. Maybe because he'd been thinking the same thing and felt ashamed for doing so.

Without looking up, John handed him his jacket and he put it on, picking off stray bits of grass and brushing at the sand that refused to be dislodged.

"Come on. We have to get back to the hotel. I promised my date the last dance."

Draining the last of the drink, John crushed the cup, dropped it on the floor of the ambulance, and got to his feet, slipping his jacket on as they walked to the cruiser farthest from the scene. Still saying nothing, John got into the back seat, slamming the door and automatically hooking his seatbelt while Evan did the same. The cop got in and they headed back toward town.

Finally, Evan could bear the strained silence no longer. "You okay?"

John inhaled and exhaled, coughing a few times not turning from his contemplation of the passing scenery. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You inhaled a lot more smoke than I did."

Shrugging, John stayed turned to the window and Evan left him alone for the rest of the ride.

Stillwater, Pennsylvania

The Gibbs Home

Jack grunted as he pushed himself out of his chair to answer the door. An attractive middle-aged woman stood there, a Netbook clasped to her chest, an expression of uneasiness causing the lines on her face to deepen.

"Beth." Jack greeted Sawyer Hartley's ex-wife with a smile. He opened the screen door so she could enter. "It's good to see you. Come inside and have a seat."

"I can't stay. And I'm sorry to come so late, Jack, but I found something." She shifted her feet. "There's a document that Leroy should see."

"What sort of document?" Jack took the computer when she held it out. "And why Leroy?"

She bit her lip, her eyes dropping to the floor. "At first I thought it was a journal about the time he spent as part of the team hunting bin Laden."

"It's not?"

"No." Her head came up again. "It's a, uh, confession concerning gross misconduct while he was stationed in Afghanistan. His misconduct. I can see you don't believe me. Just read it and if you come to the same conclusions I did, take it to Leroy." She went back out into the night, the sound of a car starting up and pulling away signaling her departure.

Jack carried the computer to his chair and sat down, setting it on the table beside him not bothering to turn it on. If Beth thought it was important enough for his son to see it, then he'd take it to him. He picked up the phone. "Leroy? Dad. Put clean sheets on the guest room bed. I'm coming for a visit. Just a suggestion, but you might want to actually answer your phone now and then instead of pretending you forgot it or turning it off."

Washington, DC

Hotel Mayfair

This night was not turning out the way Jennifer had planned. The ride up in the elevator had been quiet with John leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets and staring at the floor indicator as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

He hadn't said much since he and Evan had returned from their little errand. When questioned by their colleagues, Evan shrugged, danced a few times with Bobbie then escorted her upstairs. John danced with her, evading all her questions so she never did find out what had happened to Magee.

Her door was almost directly across from his, each of them taking out a keycard as they approached. She was about to slide hers into the slot when he stopped her by taking her hand and turning her to face him.

Something felt different in that touch, but she didn't know what. There was also a faraway look in his eyes even when he looked at her, as if he'd seen or done something that would haunt him…or had been reminded of an incident that already did. Knowing his past, she didn't have to go far to figure it out. She smiled and waited for him to say something.

"Wanna watch a movie? I promise it won't be porn."

Rolling her eyes, Jennifer pushed a few stray hairs off her face. "No thanks. It's been a long night."

"Okay. How about a night cap? We can raid the mini-bar."

When he spoke, his fingers tightened bit by bit until it was almost painful. And that's when she knew. Whatever had happened tonight, he didn't want to be alone. He probably didn't want to talk about it either. Just wanted, needed reassurance. Giving in, she let him lead her into his room and shut the door. "If there's root beer, you've got a deal. And the movie or just some TV."

~~O~~

John watched Angel remove her shoes as he took two brown bottles from the mini-fridge and twisted off the tops. Handing her one, he joined her on the end of the bed. They sat in silence for a while, and he appreciated the time to gather his thoughts. Elbows resting on his knees, the bottle held in his right hand, he told her about the chase, the accident and about Magee but not about his trip into the twilight zone. When he finished, he felt her slender arm slip around his neck as she leaned against him.

"You saved that family. That makes you a hero."

"I'm not a hero. Lorne was there too."

Angel nuzzled his neck. He knew she didn't mean to, but that got him thinking of things he shouldn't be thinking about right now.

"Then that makes both of you heroes."

Her words were soft, sweet and sincere, and he wanted to believe her, turn into her warmth and use it to chase away the memories. But he wouldn't do that to her. Would never do that to her. Urging her off his shoulder, he stood, setting the bottle on the dresser. "I'm gonna get a shower. You're welcome to stay, if you want." John heard the pleading in his voice and the sound of neediness, inwardly cringing. He took boxers and a T-shirt from the dresser drawer, went into the bathroom and shut the door.

When he emerged, his hair and body still damp from the shower, Angel was sitting propped up in the bed with pillows, wearing one of his T-shirts and flipping through the channels. She too had gotten a shower because her hair was down and damp. The television stopped on TV World, a channel that featured classic sitcoms. A campy sixties iconic superhero show was on. Without a word, he propped the other pillow next to hers and they settled down to watch.

Nearly an hour later, Angel was a sleep lying flat on the bed, one fist curled under her cheek, making her look even younger. Watching her, he gave into the urge to brush the hair away from her face. He shut off the television but before he could lay down himself, his cell vibrated, scooting across the bedside table.

"Sheppard."

"Mr. Sheppard, this is Frank at the front desk. Could you come downstairs please? I'll explain when you get here."

John recognized the voice as that of the third shift front office supervisor. "Sure."

~~O~~

When John reached the lobby, he saw a small crowd watching something and occasionally cheering lightly. Curious, he moved around the pillars and potted plants until he saw that the object of their attention was his partner. Evan was alone playing an imaginary game of basketball, obviously walking in his sleep again. Frank came up alongside him. "I assume this is what you wanted me to see."

"Yes. He came down about fifteen minutes ago looking for someone named Brian Summers. We didn't have anyone listed by that name and I finally figured out he was sleepwalking. My sister did it as a child."

"I'll take him to his room. Can we keep this between us?"

Frank shrugged and grinned. "I won't say anything if they don't." He jerked his head in the direction of the onlookers.

"Thanks. Can I get a key?" Frank was ready. He passed the keycard over, listening while John gave him a way to spare Evan embarrassment.

Frank agreed and asked the crowd to disperse thanking them for watching while local talent from an improv group worked on a new routine.

~~O~~

As Evan was lining up for a free-throw, John made his presence known. "Hey, Evan. What's the score?"

Evan turned and smiled. "Brian. About time you got here. Thought I was gonna have to play all by myself again."

John could see that his partner's actions and demeanor were that of a much younger person. Maybe ten years old, no more than that. "Sorry. Can't stay and neither can you. Your, uh, mom wants you to get to bed."

"Okay." He willingly followed John to the elevator and up to his floor. John opened the door and ushered him in. Evan stood there looking around in confusion. "This don't look like my bedroom."

"It's not. You and your mom are here on vacation. How about I stay with you until you fall asleep?"

"Cool. Thanks, Bri."

After Evan had gone back to bed and was truly asleep again, John left the keycard on the dresser and went to his own room one floor up. Angel was still asleep only now she was on her side under the covers facing the side of the bed. He crouched in front of her, brushing the hair back and planting a soft kiss on her cheek. She stirred but didn't awaken.

Circling the bed, he lay down, slipping under the covers next to the woman who'd become one of the most important elements in his life. Switching out the light, he watched the shadows flit across the ceiling. The bed shifted and Angel rolled over to cuddle against his left side. He let his arm curve over her back, pulling her close, his hand resting on her ribs thinking he'd never get to sleep now.

He was wrong. And so was Evan. Yes, having a purring cat sleep with you made sleeping pills unnecessary. But having a warm body, especially that of someone who cares for you and that you care for in return, that was the ultimate sleep-bomb.

NCIS

Autopsy Room

The body on the table was burned almost beyond recognition making it impossible to tell if it had been male or female without an internal exam. Such an exam was being performed now by two men. One elderly and slightly stooped. The other much younger and dark-haired with a perpetually eager expression.

Adjusting the microphone out of his way, the older man stripped off his gloves, washed his hands and sat down at the desk. Glancing at the clock, he mentally counted and when he got to ten, Gibbs entered right on cue.

"What've you got for me, Ducky?"

Sighing, Ducky stood again, picking up a clipboard. "This poor unfortunate young man was still alive when he was set on fire."

"What…"

The door opened again and McGee joined them, his face carefully neutral. "Boss, you have a visitor."

With little patience in his tone, Gibbs didn't even turn around. "Tell 'em to wait, McGee. We've got a homicide to solve."

"I think you're gonna want to see this one."

"Why?" McGee walked over to peer into the empty chest cavity of the deceased, grimacing in disgust. "McGee!"

"Oh. Uh, it's your dad."

~~O~~

"You're certain?" Gibbs knew the answer, that's why he asked the question.

"Absolutely. The document you gave me to analyze was written by Colonel Sawyer Hartley and no one else. It has not been altered or tampered with in any way," McGee told his boss without reservation. "It was accessed and read on two occasions though."

"Did you track down Sheppard's current whereabouts?"

"It wasn't easy. Seems he's working for some super-secret department attached to Homeworld Security."

An accented voice intruded into the conversation. "Do you not mean Homeland Security?"

"No, Ziva. I do not. Homeworld Security is tasked with…"

"Protecting Earth from alien invasions." Their boss made this statement without changing expression. Only his eyes told the story. Gibbs paused to take a sip from his ever-present cup of coffee then set it aside. That same hand picked up the receiver of the landline on the desk, the forefinger dialing from memory. "Jack? Jethro. I need a meet…Yes, with you…I suggest you include one of your agents, John Sheppard, and whoever his boss is…Woolsey? Really? The sooner the better." Gibbs stood up, buttoned the front of his sport jacket and took the stairs two at a time, ending up in front of Director Vance's office. Cynthia wasn't at her desk but she wouldn't have been able to stop him anyway. He knocked on the door and entered without awaiting permission.

Area 52

Employee Overnight Area

Room 2A

A towel wrapped around his waist and drying his hair with another, Evan sat at the desk. Tossing the towel over the back of the chair, he powered up his computer. Accessing Area 52's personnel files, he typed in "Sheppard, John T.", his finger poised over the enter key. With a grunt of irritation he shoved the computer away and stood, going to the dresser and closet to take out clean clothes. He'd just pulled on his boxers when his cell rang. Glancing at the caller ID, his eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. "Unknown number?" With a shrug, he hit the answer key. "Hello."

"Is this Evan Lorne?"

Not willing to confirm or deny his identity, Evan asked, "Who is this?"

"My name is David Sheppard." There was a pause. "John Sheppard is my brother."

Evan's back straightened in shock. "How did you get this number?"

A chuckle came from his caller. "Our company does a lot of business for Stargate Command."

"Wait. You're that David Sheppard?"

"'Fraid so." Again there was a pause, not as long this time. "What I want to know…the reason I'm calling is…I haven't seen or spoken to my brother in almost twenty years. Our father disinherited him just before he joined the Air Force. I've kept tabs on him since then, but he disappeared a few months ago. Thought he might be dead. At least I did until he called a few weeks back then again last week. He didn't say anything but I knew it was him. Please, tell me, is he okay?"

Now Evan knew why John had gotten drunk that night. The call to his brother had been the impetus. And what he'd taken for drunken ranting had been the truth. He had been disowned by his family or at least by his only surviving parent. Evan thought about what to say and how to say it to his partner's brother. The answer wasn't as hard as it might have seemed. With a smile, Evan finally relaxed back in the chair. "Mr. Sheppard, your brother is doing fine. He's well, maybe not as happy as he'd like or deserves to be, but working on it."

A long sigh of relief reached through to Evan. "That's…that's good. Great. I was so afraid he'd died and I wouldn't be able to ask his forgiveness for all the wasted years."

"I am happy to say that you'll get that chance and soon. Just give him time to forgive himself. There is one more thing you should know." Evan's smile turned into a grin. "Mr. Sheppard, your brother is a hero."

~~O~~

Evan hung up the phone pleased with the role he'd decided to play on the strength of a hunch. He'd taken on the task of helping his partner reconcile with his estranged family. And dammit! It felt good.

Vaulting out of the chair, he quickly dressed then headed for the women's locker room. He pounded on the door until Cooper finally stuck her head out. Her hair was dry on one side but not the other. "What the hell do you want, Lorne? I'm tryin' to get dressed here."

"How about dinner and a movie? On me."

Bobbie's eyes narrowed at him with suspicion. "You offering to foot the bill for a night out? Have you been fighting with Sheppard again? Hit your head? Had a stroke?"

He chuckled. "No."

"Then yes, dinner and a movie sound great. Give me five minutes to make myself beautiful."

She slammed the door in Evan's face when he said, "You want to look beautiful? I'll go grab a snack 'cause that's gonna take hours."

Homeworld Security

Office of General Jack O'Neill

"Director Richard Woolsey, Special Agent John Sheppard, meet Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs of NCIS."

The men shook hands, John's forehead creased in thought. "I met a Jackson Gibbs on a case a few weeks ago. Nice old coot."

Gibbs gave up a rare smile. "That old coot is my father."

John had the good sense to be embarrassed. "Oh. Sorry." At least until Gibbs' response let him off the hook.

"Don't be. He is an old coot."

After everyone had been seated, Woolsey spoke. "So, what's this all about, General?"

O'Neill exchanged a look with Gibbs before speaking. "New evidence has come to light in the chopper crash in which Sheppard was the pilot." Before he could go on, Lieutenant Velasquez entered, passing each man a cup of hot coffee made just the way he liked it.

Woolsey looked at his cup as if it might be tainted in some way. "How did…"

Waving a hand to stop Woolsey's question, O'Neill said, "She just knows." He took a sip and set the cup on a coaster that Velasquez insisted he use. Opening a manila folder, he took out two hard copies and passed them to Sheppard and Woolsey. "Read. I'll wait."

~~O~~

"I, Sawyer Edward Hartley, being of sound mind and not so sound body, do solemnly swear that the events I am about to relate are true to the best of my recollection.

"In the case of U.S. v Air Force O-3, Captain John T. Sheppard is innocent of all charges surrounding the crash of Air Force unit NFD-1855B, commonly known as Betty Boop. He is specifically innocent of the charge of disobeying orders and thereby causing the deaths of four members of the military and eight civilians.

"Captain Sheppard was given permission by me to travel to the area known by the code name Short Stack for the purpose of rescuing November Squad trapped in an area of heavy fighting. What I did not know at the time was that the unit I gave him the go-ahead to take was in for maintenance due to a faulty fuel gauge. When the crash occurred, I denied giving such consent as I was on the list for promotion. I lied to my superiors, to the judge, to the prosecuting and defense attorneys and to myself. The latter eventually became the cause of the break-up of my marriage…"

John had to remember to breathe as he read the document O'Neill had given him. It was so much to take in that his brain seemed to have shut down from the overload.

After all the years of dealing with the guilt and having the deaths of so many hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles, he was finally exonerated. Maybe. He'd see what O'Neill had to say first.

Carefully closing the file and setting it on the edge of the desk, John kept his features neutral waiting for the next shoe to drop.

TBC