I hope you had a good weekend, and thanks for the reviews and alerts - they are much appreciated! Again, I'm sorry that I can't reply to those send under the anonymous banner, as the site doesn't give me the facility to reply.

Anyway, we left John in a sorry state, so how is our Lt Colonel?

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 9

He loved it when a plan came together, and so far Brantum was happy everything was falling into place at the right time.

John of course was the one loose cannon, the only element he hadn't – so far - been able to control, but hopefully, his reticent grandson would start to come round once he began to feel better. Besides, how could he not, after seeing the results of his shopping spree? Brantum broke into a smile, at the delicious thought of finally having a fruitful working relationship alongside his own offspring.

Surrounded by brightly colored bags, he took a moment to admire his new suit in the cheval mirror. It had been expensive, but he was all too aware that the best things in life usually were. The fine, pale olive cashmere clung to him like a second skin, and even the fetching young lady who had sold it, said it complimented his eyes. She was quite lovely, and someone he would have liked to have spent some time with, but time in this instance was the operative word, as while the gate ship could keep going back and forth forever, his energy was unfortunately not boundless.

Brantum gave his comfortable quarters a last wistful look, then gathering his purchases together, made his way out the craft. The truth was, that despite the attractions of Hawaii, he missed living in his ship. It was linked to every technological device imaginable, and had all the amenities a man could ever want, including a low tech, but enjoyable full size pool table. Regrettably though, Janus wasn't much of an opponent. So in some ways he could sympathise with John, as he too liked to be surrounded by his own things, but the young man would soon learn that unfortunately some sacrifice was necessary for the greater good.

Weighed down by his parcels, he nearly didn't see the car roll into the driveway until he was almost upon it. Janus jumped out, but before he could speak, Brantum interrupted.

"Where have you been? I thought my instructions were clear, Janus, you had no right gadding about, leaving my grandson on his own."

"But I didn't, Father…" Janus stuttered, as Forant shut him down again.

"And how many times have I told you not to call me that?" Brantum retorted, unhappy with the intimacy of the greeting, but he was more angry at his instructions having been disobeyed.

Janus moved forward and for the first time Brantum noticed the look of panic on his face. "What's wrong? It's John, isn't it? What have you done to my grandson?"

"Nothing…I've done nothing." Janus protested, putting out his arms to fend off the older man. Then he explained. "Shortly after you left, I heard a noise from his room, but when I went inside he was lying on the floor struggling to breathe."

Brantum felt the blood drain from his face, and was barely aware of dropping the packages, spilling them onto the ground. "I must go to him…" But Janus grabbed his arm as he made to blindly rush inside.

Then Janus' expression turned grave. "John's in the hospital. With you gone, Master, I didn't have a choice." He said sounding nervous. "It was either call for an ambulance or let him die."

"Is he…"

"He's alive, but it was a close thing. It was some sort of allergic reaction they think." Janus responded, and Brantum felt the last vestige of rage seep from his body leaving him drained, as he sunk onto the step. "They had to perform an emergency tracheotomy, so right now, he's on a ventilator." Janus said. "But the doctor said they hope to remove it sometime tomorrow once the swelling goes down." Janus informed him, and Brantum groaned, knowing this wrinkle to the plans was all his fault.

He was aware that something in the compound must have caused this, and was angry at himself for not checking John's medical records before giving him something that had obviously caused such a violent reaction. Brantum realised he had made the classic, rookie mistake of believing John shared identical blood work to him. He didn't of course, because while they had the same blood group, as his grandson was only part Ancient, regrettably, he would never enjoy the same robust genetics of his kinsmen. In this instance, Brantum knew he would have to swallow his pride, and defer to the notes made by John's physician, Doctor Beckett, as he had been the one to care for John through his illness, and had no doubt arranged suitable medication to aid his ultimate recovery.

Then something dawned on him, and his head shot up to make eye contact with the other man. "You didn't bring them here did you? Please don't tell me you brought strangers into this house!" Brantum grew angry again at the thought this episode could leave a trace of John's appearance in this time line.

"No…"Janus answered. "I made the call as a concerned by-stander, then left him lying at the side of the road in a quiet area just off the strip. I waited until he was safely in the ambulance, then later, went down to the hospital to ask how he was."

Brantum scrubbed a shaking hand through his coarse grey hair, upset at the thought of his grandson being dumped like a piece of unwanted garbage, waiting for collection. "Well we can't just leave him there," he said.

"Why not, fath…I mean, Master? He can't speak and is being well looked after, in any case, John doesn't know anyone here. Or correction, I should say those people he does know, his friends, are only children in this decade." Janus reasoned.

Brantum could hear his bones creak as he struggled to his feet. "I'm well aware of that, Janus. However I would rather keep him away from strangers just in case of repercussions. Gather all our belongings together and pack up the house - I don't want any trace that we were ever here." He instructed. "Oh, and when you're finished I have an errand I want you to run."

ooooOoooo

His first sensation was the familiar hard plastic covering his face, but the cool air flowing through the mask was welcome, as he no longer struggled to breathe. The second, was the pain in his throat. It felt raw, despite the presence of good drugs in his system. Regardless, John still felt like crap and pretty much ached all over from the top of his throbbing head, to the tight spasms ripping through his chest.

Still, considering that he'd expected to wake up dead, finding himself alive was a pleasant surprise. John cracked open an eye and knew immediately where he was – in hospital. The lingering smell of antiseptic and sterile white walls was unmistakable, but how he got here, and why Forant had relinquished control, he hadn't a clue.

"Hi! It's nice to see you finally awake, that was quite a scare you gave us."

John opened his eyes wider and saw a pretty, dark haired doctor smiling down at him. Though when he opened his mouth to speak, a sharp pain speared through his neck, and he grimaced, gripping onto the sheets, as he tried not to pass out.

A soft hand took his and held it tight, as he rode out the pain until it gradually started to ease, and he felt more in control. "Don't try to talk. It was necessary to carry out an emergency tracheotomy to open your airways, but although the tube is out now, it will still be a few more days until you'll be able to speak." She said, then introduced herself. "My name is Doctor Willis, but I don't know yours, so would you care to tell me?" John felt a pen pressed gently into his hand, and was vaguely aware of a note pad placed by his side.

He was so damned tired, but feebly grabbed the pad, made a note and gave it to her.

The young doctor smiled, and it lit up her whole face "Well hello, Mr Sheppard, but there's no need for 'thanks', it's my job. Now I'm going to leave you to get some rest, but I'll be back later." She said, but as she went to move away, the woman hesitated for a second. "I know you must be tired, and if I'm out of line I apologise – but are you in the military by any chance?"

When John slowly nodded his head she continued. "It's your hair. All the men I know wear it longer."

John took the pad, wrote then handed it over.

Her eyes went wide. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Colonel. I didn't mean to be disrespectful. " She apologised, and John saw her face turn scarlet.

The young woman was clearly mortified, and despite not meaning to, John realised that the doctor thought she'd annoyed him. He couldn't let her leave feeling upset, so he grabbed the pad and wrote one more time. It's okay – call me John.

She smiled and her jet black hair bobbed around her shoulders, as she thanked him and walked away. He was wiped out, and sleep was pulling him under, but as he watched her leave John couldn't help reflect that life could be really weird sometimes. Here he was feeling like road kill, unable to speak, but having enjoyed his first decent conversation in days…

ooooOoooo

The strong amber liquid burned as it slid down his throat, but Carson savoured the aftertaste of the smooth single malt.

It warmed him, and almost chased away the cold, icy rock of despair that lay heavy in his gut. This whole bloody awful mess was his fault. What the hell had he been thinking to send a trouble magnet like John Sheppard away from his friends? Carson realised he'd been a fecking eejit to even think John could enjoy a seemly peaceful beach holiday without incident. He was after all, Colonel Calamity, as Rodney aptly named him, so he should have known it was a sure-fire certainty Sheppard would get into bother anywhere.

It was a beautiful place Hawaii, not in the same grandiose way as his beloved homeland, but nonetheless the lush, green vegetation made a striking backdrop to the deep, azure sea rolling onto the golden sands. Carson sat back and admired the scenery as Dave topped up his glass, then staggered, falling into the wooden recliner next to his. His companion was worse for wear and while he could hold his drink a little better, the sensible side of his brain knew he should have refused, as the headache from hell would make a familiar appearance in the morning. Still, Carson reckoned he deserved the misery a hangover would bring, as payback for the unhappiness he'd caused.

"Car…sun." Dave slurred as her rolled his head to face him. "I'mm a bad brother…"

Carson shook his head sadly. "No, son – you're not. You did what you thought was best to help John. It's not your fault this happened."

"Isss too…"

"No, it isn't. The Colonel just has a way of finding trouble wherever he goes." Carson explained, "I'm just sorry it happened here, while he was away from his friends."

"Seeee…told u it ws my fault! If…iff I'd been Rumen, orrr Tey…la, even Rudney, nun of this wud have happened." Dave banged his glass on the chair, spilling half the contents onto the ground.

Carson sighed, and scrubbed a hand over his face, as in that one small statement, he finally realised what had happened to John wasn't his fault or Dave's. Both of them had been acting in the man's best interests, and now he needed to get Dave Sheppard to believe that – as well as himself.

"Hell - I'm sorry, son. That came out wrong," Carson got to feet and stumbled towards the railing, then turned around. "What I meant to say was if this had happened in Pegasus, we would have known who we were up against, or at least had some idea. But here…well it wouldn't have mattered who was with him, none of us expected this. Besides, I'm starting to think it was an inside job."

"Surioeus…seri…u mean that? But wh…o?" Dave's glazed eyes' grew puzzled.

"Aye, I do, but as to who...Right now, I'm still finding it hard to believe that anyone on base would want to hurt him." Carson extended a hand to help Dave off the chair. "Now, you've had too much to drink, me too. Besides, I think it's about time I got back to work - did you hear that?" There was a scuffling sound coming from somewhere close by, and he already knew Dave didn't own a cat…

"Wha?" Dave shouted, and Carson put his finger up to his lips, then whispered. "Are you expecting anyone?"

Dave shook his head, and both men staggered to the side of the patio door and peered inside. It had become dark without them realising it, and now the room was shrouded in shadows. They couldn't see a thing.

"Do you have your cell with you?" Carson asked and Dave nodded. "Good, lad. Now I want you move away from the house and phone 911, then stay out of sight in those trees."

"No…wa..y! Wha…what about u?" Dave asked, as he slumped against the door, nearly landing on his ass.

The Scot steadied him, and made sure Dave could stand before he answered. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Just go and make that call and I'll come and join you in a minute."

Truth was, Carson had no idea what he was going to do. He didn't have a gun, not that he would have used one, as he couldn't abide violence, plus his flashlight had been left on base with the rest of his off world gear. He was also a wee bit drunk. Too many whiskeys were now making themselves felt, and although he wasn't completely legless, he was still in no condition to get into a fight. Carson didn't want to join Dave just yet though, as if this was an intruder, maybe they had something to do with John. If he could just stay out of sight long enough to see who it was…

A loud crash behind him made him turn round just in time to see Dave Sheppard fall over a chair.

"Damn it man, I told you to wait over there."

But as Carson went to help him, the blow came from behind…

ooooOoooo

TBC

Well now poor Carson has been whumped too! Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review - I really like to know what you guy's think.

A/N:- in case you don't know, eejit, is an old Scottish word for dumb or stupid ( But you probably guessed that!)