HALF-LIVES

CHAPTER 4

It was morning. Sheppard could feel the sun on his face, warm and comforting. He opened his eyes, and was instantly confused. This wasn't Atlantis, he realized; this room was strange, and yet somehow familiar at the same time. The walls were paneled wood, the bed covered in a gold-patterned comforter. The carpet was a deep red, soft and plush, the kind your feet sank into when you stepped on it.

"The hell?" He murmured to himself, getting out of the bed and staring at the room around him.

Sheppard walked over to the tall dresser that stood in a corner, and slid open the top drawer. It stuck at first, then opened with a small squeak. That single sound triggered a memory back in his mind, and his stomach suddenly felt like lead.

He was home. Well, his childhood home, anyway.

Sheppard stepped over to the door, which was standing open, and walked out into the hallway. Voices emanated from the living room, speaking in hushed tones. A woman dressed in black passed the end of the hall, her blond hair shining in the bright sunshine that seemed to pour through every window in the house.

He recognized the woman immediately, and started to run after her, but his legs wouldn't move as fast as he wanted them to. He felt as if he were running through molasses, as if his legs suddenly weighed a hundred pounds each.

"Mom!" He called out, still only halfway down the hall. His voice sounded flat and far away, and for some reason, it frightened him more than not being able to run.

Finally, he made it to the end of the hall, and stepped out into the living room. At least thirty people stood in the room, still speaking in their hushed voices. He spotted his father in a corner, talking with another, taller man. His father was wearing a dark suit, and his expression appeared subdued, if not sad. Sheppard's brother stood near where the living room met the dining room, his eyes red and swollen from crying, and Sheppard suddenly remembered this day. This was the day of his mother's funeral.

"John?" called a familiar voice behind him, and he spun around. His mother stood there before him, a pretty smile on her porcelain face. She reached out her hand and placed it on his shoulder, her blue eyes sparkling with tears.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" He asked her, afraid and confused at the same time. He knew she was dead, and yet, she seemed so real; he could feel the warmth of her hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, John, I am dead," she stated plainly, though he was certain he hadn't said that aloud.

"What's going on here?" He nearly shouted, and she frowned a little.

"You need to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?"

She nodded, then turned her face to glance at the front of the living room. He followed her gaze, and his eyes finally spotted a casket set in front of the fireplace, where a few people were standing, looking down at the person laid inside it. She patted his shoulder comfortingly, and then stepped away with an expectant look at him.

"Go on," she said before turning away to talk to dark-haired woman nearby.

Slowly, Sheppard made his way toward the casket, ignoring the presence of everyone else in the room. He edged around an older man who stood in front of the casket, nearly knocking over a bouquet of flowers set on a table beside it.

His heart seemed to fly into his throat when he saw who was placed inside the casket.

It was Teyla.

She was dressed in a long, flowing white dress, tied around the waist with a gold belt. Her long, golden-brown hair curled around her body, shiny and fragrant as always. Her thick, dark lashes rested on her cheeks, hiding her brown doe eyes from his view.

Not believing that any of this was real, he reached down and touched one of her hands, which had been crossed over her chest. Her skin was cool under his fingers, and it was only then he realized that she was indeed dead.

"No," he whispered. "No, it's not real."

"I'm sorry, John," his mother's voice said from beside him, and he turned to face her, his jaw clenched in anger.

"Why are you doing this?" He growled, and she seemed surprised by his accusation.

"I'm not doing anything, John. You couldn't save her."

Shaking his head, he said, "This isn't real. I…I have to be dreaming."

He looked back down at Teyla's lifeless form, trying to will himself awake from this nightmare. He would never accept that any of this was really happening.

Suddenly, Teyla's eyes flew open, and she stared straight into Sheppard's eyes. He jumped back, startled, and again bumped into the floral arrangement to his left. This time, however, it tipped too far, and fell to the floor with a crash.

The noise of the glass vase breaking was just enough to wake Sheppard up, and he sat up straight, flipping on the light beside his bed as he did. His breath came in gasps, and as he looked around at the familiar sight of his room on Atlantis, he realized that he was drenched in sweat. He got out of bed, tossing the damp sheets off the mattress, and made his way into the bathroom. The light went on automatically as he stepped into the room, and he frowned as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. His hair was stuck to his forehead, and the dark shadows under his eyes were more pronounced, as if he hadn't slept at all in a month.

"Might as well be true," he grumbled as he turned on the faucet and splashed cool water onto his face. He stared back up at himself, the events of the dream rushing back to him like a tidal wave, making his stomach churn with worry. He had to make sure Teyla was okay.

Sheppard shut off the water and dried his face, then changed out of his sweat-drenched clothes, tossing them into a corner with a mental note to get them washed later. He glanced down at his watch. 3 a.m. With a sigh, he left his room and started toward Teyla's.

He was about halfway there when he nearly walked right into Ronon, who was taking his usual early-morning stroll around the city.

"Hey," Ronon rumbled, and Sheppard managed a small grin.

"Hey, yourself."

"Why you up so early? Or late?" His tall, dreadlocked friend asked, and he shrugged.

"Couldn't sleep."

Ronon eyed him suspiciously. "Where are you headed?"

Sheppard's eyes darted around as he tried to figure out how to answer Ronon without lying outright. Then, he replied, "I, uh, need to check on something."

"Mm," Ronon said, cocking his head to the side. He considered busting Sheppard then, but the weary look in his friend's eyes stopped him, and he simply nodded instead.

"Well, when you're done, I'll be in the gym if you wanna spar for a while."

Relieved that Ronon had accepted his explanation, Sheppard nodded. "I might just take you up on that. See you later."

"Yep."

Sheppard stood and watched Ronon as he walked down the hall in the opposite direction, and when he was out of sight, Sheppard heaved a sigh and continued on his way to Teyla's quarters. When he reached her door, he stood in front of it for a few minutes, wondering if he should really do this. It was silly, acting on a dream, wasn't it? Chances are, she was fine, and he was overreacting.

He was just about to open the door, when it slid aside, and Teyla stood there staring at him. She was wearing a silky, sapphire-blue pajama top and matching shorts, and on top of that was a fuzzy white robe, the belt left untied. Her feet were bare, and he noticed that her toes were painted a pretty shade of pink.

"Uh," he stammered, "hi."

"John." She was smiling, but her eyes seemed sad, and a little surprised to see him.

"So, I couldn't sleep, and I was taking a walk. Happened to pass by your door, and I wondered if you were up, but I didn't wanna disturb you."

"Of course."

He stood there, rocking on his heels for a moment, then asked, "Everything okay?"

"Yes. Why would it not be?"

Sheppard shrugged. See? he told himself. She's fine. "No reason. Just curious."

She gazed at him, as if she wanted to say something, then shook her head. "It is strange."

He cocked an eyebrow. "What is?"

Realizing she had said it out loud, she blushed and replied, "I was having a very odd dream just a while ago."

"Hmm," was all he said. He noticed a small group of people walk by them with curious looks on their faces, and he leaned a little closer to her. "Could I come in for a minute?"

She, too, had noticed the glances cast their way, and nodded even as she moved aside to make room for him to enter her quarters. "Of course."

As the door hissed shut behind him, Sheppard's eyes swept the room, then flicked toward the cradle beside Teyla's bed. Torren was asleep as usual, his lips moving as if he were eating. Sheppard smiled at that. Torren always seemed hungry; if he didn't know better, he'd swear that Torren was Rodney's kid.

"So," he said then, "what was this 'strange' dream of yours?"

She grinned somewhat nervously, and sat down on the edge of the bed, involuntarily smoothing the covers on either side of her slender, yet muscular, legs.

"I dreamed that I was in my village. I woke in my tent, and when I went outside, Kanaan was there, alive. Only, I knew that was not possible, and he confirmed my belief when he spoke to me. He told me that I had to say 'goodbye'. I was confused, until he led me to another tent. Many mourners were inside, and when I approached the body, I expected to find it was Kanaan."

She seemed troubled even now, so long after she had awakened from the dream. Sheppard knew exactly how she felt.

He sat down beside her and gazed into her eyes.

"It wasn't him, though," he said, more a statement than a question, and Teyla nodded.

In a whisper, she replied, "It was you."

"Figures."

She cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

He sighed and lay back on the bed, his hands folded behind his head. "I had the same dream. Only it was in my parents' house, at my mom's funeral. And it was you in the casket."

"We had the same dream?" She asked aloud, though she really wasn't addressing him; he nodded anyway.

"Seems so."

"How is this possible?"

Sheppard shrugged, the movement lessened by the position of his arms. "Maybe it's just a coincidence. A very odd, and somewhat creepy, coincidence."

Teyla eyed him, unsure of his explanation, but said nothing. The silence continued for a while, but it was a comfortable silence. Sheppard closed his eyes, completely at ease there on her bed, and soon felt Teyla's weight lift from the mattress. A few moments later, he heard a drawer open, followed by the sound of her bare feet on marble. When he heard the muted noise of water splashing into the sink, he figured she was in the bathroom, most likely washing her face.

Sheppard let his mind flow wherever it wanted to, not staying on any one thought for long. At first, it went back to his rescue of Kanaan, wondering if he could've done anything different. Next came images from his dream earlier that night. The sight of his mother standing there in the living room, looking as alive as he'd remembered her. Her golden hair shining in the sun, curled ever so slightly as to reveal her Scottish heritage; her blue eyes so vibrant, they seemed to make everything else around her fade in color. God, he missed her so much.

Teyla watched Sheppard sleeping peacefully, for what must've been the first time in months. His chest rose and fell slowly, calmly; his eyes underneath their lids moved, but not very quickly. She smiled softly at the sight before grabbing a spare blanket from the couch and carefully laying it over him. She checked on Torren once more, and was glad that he also was sleeping.

She idled around the kitchen, washing a few of Torren's bottles, then setting them in the drainer to dry. She was about to get herself a drink of water when she heard Sheppard murmur her name, and she turned to look at him. He appeared to still be sleeping, but she went over anyway.

"John?" she whispered, and he opened one eye to peer at her.

"You should sleep," he said, fatigue cracking his voice.

"I will, soon."

He moved over on the bed, making room enough for her. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of sharing the bed with him, but she forced her voice to stay calm, "John, I think it would be best if I…"

"Teyla." With that one word, her name, he reassured her that it would be alright, that nothing would happen. Reluctantly, she removed the robe she'd been wearing and hung it over the back of a nearby chair, then climbed under the covers, savoring the softness of the sheets against her bare legs. Sheppard got up and also slid beneath the comforter, his body turned to face hers. He blinked slowly a few times, drinking in the sight of her. Then, he smiled that roguish smile of his, before touching his forehead to hers. She was surprised by his gentle demeanor, and wondered instantly if this was a big mistake. Just then, he rolled over to face away from her, and said, "Goodnight, Teyla."

She gazed at the back of his head, noticing the way his hair rested against the nape of his neck. She had the sudden and overwhelming urge to reach out and touch it, but she resisted. Instead, she only replied, "Goodnight, John."

Dr. Jennifer Keller sat at her desk, just beginning to go through a few patient files that needed to be put in order. It was very early, the sun hardly a sliver on the horizon, and she yawned, wishing she could go back to bed for an hour or two. Alas, it was not to be. The door to the infirmary slid open, and a young Marine walked in, a cut on his forehead bleeding fairly quickly.

Jennifer sighed as she reached where he stood. "Sparring with Ronon?"

The Marine nodded.

"Hop up here," she said, patting the bed nearby. He did so, and she checked the wound, trying not to prod it too much. "Okay, looks like you just need a few stitches. I'll send Marie over."

"Thanks, Doc," the young man said, and she nodded.

"Be more careful next time."

She turned to leave, and nearly ran into the subject of her ire. Ronon stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, sweat from his workout with – no, on, she corrected – the Marine still standing on his forehead.

Jennifer recovered and jabbed a finger at his broad chest. "And you! If you want to beat up on someone, why don't you get some dummies or something?"

He seemed amused by her anger, as was the Marine, who was stifling a chuckle behind his hand. It only served to intensify her temper. "Dummies?" he rumbled, and she nodded.

"Yes. They're made of foam, and made to look like people."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "But they don't fight back."

She stood there, staring at him in unbelief. Finally, she threw up her hands in defeat. "I give up! Next time someone comes in here with 'battle wounds' or whatever, you're stitching them up yourself!"

"Fine," he shrugged.

"Fine." She stalked away from him and found Marie in the back room. She told her to stitch up the Marine's head wound, and walked back into her office. A few minutes later, as she slid the files she'd been working on into the cabinet, she was aware of a hulking shadow over her shoulder.

"What now?" she asked the man behind her. He took that as an invitation to enter the room, and took a step forward.

"I just wanted to say I was…uh, sorry."

His tone startled her, and she whirled around to face him. Ronon's gaze at her told her he was telling the truth. She cocked her head. "Sorry? For what?"

"For making you angry."

"It's fine," she replied, waving off his concern.

"You sure?" He asked, crossing his arms again and staring straight into her eyes.

"Yep." She looked down at her feet, suddenly shy for some reason that even she couldn't figure out. "I shouldn't have yelled at you, anyway. I'm just…I haven't been sleeping well for a few days, and I snapped."

Ronon shrugged. "You're under a lot of stress. It happens."

Jennifer frowned. "Still, I shouldn't have gotten so angry. It was an accident, after all."

He was silent for a while, seemingly bothered by something, but not willing to discuss it. She put her hand on his arm and looked up into his dark brown eyes.

"Are we cool?" she asked him, and he nodded.

"Yeah."

She grinned at him. "Good."

He seemed to still want to say something to her, to ask her something, but then he thought better of it and left her office without another word. Jennifer shrugged. He wasn't much of a talker, anyway; it was his way to be the strong, silent type. She turned back to her work, but was interrupted by Marie shouting for her at top volume. She rushed into the infirmary, and what she saw made her feet skid to a full stop. Her heart jumped into her throat, and she had to mentally force herself to stay calm.

Ronon was lying on the floor, unconscious. Marie was bent over him, trying to feel for his pulse.

"What happened?" Jennifer asked her, kneeling beside her. She peeled open his eyelid, and shined her penlight at his pupil, then repeated her motions with his other eye. They seemed to be okay.

"I don't know," Marie replied, "he apologized to Sergeant Lucas for the wound, and as he was walking away, he just stopped, put his hand to his head, and went down."

Puzzled, Jennifer looked down at him, then at Marie. "Well, we need to get him in a bed. Seems like he's gonna be out for a while."

Marie stared at her as if to say, "You've gotta be kidding." There was no way the two of them could lift his massive body off the floor, much less get him up into a bed.

Jennifer nodded. "Yeah. I'd better call someone to help."

Marie stood up and walked over to prepare a bed for Ronon, as Jennifer tapped her communicator.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

His hushed voice spoke into her ear after a short silence. "Dr. Keller?"

"Could you please come to the infirmary right away?"

From where he stood near the door, Sheppard turned to look at Teyla's sleeping form. He didn't want to leave without explaining where he'd gone, but he didn't want to wake her, and Keller's voice sounded urgent. Rubbing a hand through his hair, he sighed.

"Sure. I'm on my way."

He found a scrap of paper on her bedside table, and a pen in the kitchen. He scribbled a note as quickly but legibly as he could, and then realized he didn't know quite where to put it. Finally, he decided to stick it on the pillow he'd slept on, and as he did, he stole yet another glance at Teyla. Then, he turned and left her quarters, jogging down the hall toward the infirmary.

"Colonel? Where are you?" Keller again.

"Almost there," he replied, trying not to sound too winded.

A moment later, he rushed through the infirmary door. "What's so important, anyway? Did I miss another physical?"

Jennifer shook her head and moved to the side. He immediately noticed Ronon there on the floor, and his eyes searched Jennifer's face, wanting – no, needing – an explanation.

She understood his expression, and began to fill him in. "He was fine one moment, and the next, he grabbed his head and collapsed."

"How long's he been out?" he asked.

"Around five minutes. We couldn't lift him by ourselves, and you were the first person I thought of."

"All right," Sheppard said, kneeling down beside his friend, "you two take his legs, and I'll get his top half."

After a few failed attempts to lift the huge Satedan, they finally had him situated in a bed, and Jennifer was taking his blood pressure. Sheppard stood silently nearby, trying to look unconcerned, but failing miserably. He had the nagging feeling that something horribly wrong was going on in Atlantis, and not just because two of the strongest warriors in the city had collapsed, within hours of each other. Call it his military training, call it intuition – hell, blame it on the Ancient gene he carried in his blood – something was trying to warn him. And what was up with his and Teyla's shared dream? Did that have anything to do with this somehow? There seemed to be more questions than answers, and that frustrated him even further. Nothing made sense. Nothing like this had ever happened to Ronon before. Unless, he argued, you count all the times he'd been hit with a Wraith stunner. Nah, he shook his head; those didn't count, at least not to him.

His thoughts were interrupted by him suddenly becoming aware of Teyla's presence in the room. She caught his eye and slightly inclined her head, and then made her way to Jennifer's side.

"Dr. Keller," she greeted, and Jennifer smiled at her.

"Hi, Teyla."

"What happened to him?" Teyla asked, placing her hand on Ronon's arm

"I'm not quite sure yet. He collapsed, and so far, all the tests I've run have come back normal."

"Could this be related to what happened to me, earlier?"

Keller shrugged. "It's possible, I suppose. But I'm not sure how."

Teyla's eyes showed a hint of fear. "When will he awaken?"

"Could be minutes, hours. I don't know."

The fear in Teyla's eyes was replaced by something Jennifer couldn't quite figure out. Then, Teyla nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Keller." She looked at Sheppard, who was wearing an invisible path across the infirmary's marble floor. "Could I wait here until he does awaken?"

Jennifer smiled again. "Sure. Just try to keep your voices down, okay?"

"Of course."

With a nod, Jennifer walked away, and Teyla moved toward Sheppard and placed her hand on his arm. He stopped pacing and looked up at her, seeming to finally remember where he was, and why.

"Hey," he said.

"Are you all right?"

Sheppard nodded, but his expression remained the same. "I'm fine. You?"

She gave him a small smile. "I am well, thank you."

They let another long pause sit between them, content to simply stand near each other and watch Ronon for any sign of movement. Then, Sheppard turned to face her, and said, "I wanted to thank you for earlier. For letting me sleep."

She inclined her head at him. "You seemed to need the rest."

He grinned at her. "That's an understatement. But seriously, thank you."

"You are welcome, John."

His expression suddenly turned worried, and he asked, "I didn't…talk in my sleep, did I?"

Teyla laughed softly. "No, you did not."

Relieved, Sheppard sighed. "Good."

"Why?" She asked playfully.

"No reason," he replied, too quickly. She quirked an eyebrow at him, but kept silent.

Sheppard opened his mouth to speak, when they both noticed Ronon's eyelids fluttering open.

"Doc!" Sheppard called, and Jennifer immediately emerged from her office. By the time she had reached Ronon, he was already trying to sit up.

"Whoa there, big guy," she said, laying her hand on Ronon's chest. "Take it easy."

"What happened?" he asked.

"You had yourself a little impromptu nap on the infirmary floor," Sheppard replied, and then grinned at Ronon's confused expression.

"What?"

Teyla stepped closer, and explained, "You collapsed."

"Do you remember anything?" Jennifer asked him, and he shook his head.

"I remember talking to Logan. I walked away. That's all." His jaw clenched tightly, obviously angry that he didn't know what was going on. "Can I go now?"

"Sorry, Ronon," Jennifer said, "I want to run a few more tests first."

He scowled darkly, but said nothing.

Sheppard felt bad for him. A big guy like that, stuck in a stupid hospital bed with nothing to do; it had to be driving him nuts. He leaned down and patted Ronon's shoulder. "Don't worry, buddy. I'll stick around until the doc says you can leave."

It seemed to work. Ronon leaned back, sliding his right hand behind his head. "Thanks, Sheppard."

"I will also stay, if you wish," Teyla chimed in, and Ronon nodded.

"Sure, if you don't have to go back to Torren."

She smiled good-naturedly at him. "Dr. McKay has agreed to care for him once again. I believe that his…dislike for children…has all but disappeared."

Ronon chuckled. "Don't count on it. He only likes Torren because he can't talk yet."

Sheppard smiled at Ronon's jab at McKay. It seemed that Ronon was his old self again, and it slightly eased the pit that had knotted in his stomach. Only slightly, Sheppard reminded himself. The feeling that this wasn't the end was still there, digging its claws deep into him.

There was certainly more to come.

TBC...

Notes: Ample amount of angst and weirdness, yet? No? Well, rest assured, the best is yet to come! Sheppard: "If it has anything to do with Ferris Wheels or football, I'm SO in!" Me: Quiet! You talk more than Rodney!

Anyway, R&R...blah blah...I'll try and keep this updated as much as possible...but 4 kids can keep me extremely busy at times...LOL