HALF-LIVES

CHAPTER 5

Samantha Carter found Rodney in his lab, staring at his computer screen with his chin in his hands. Every once in a while, his fingers would tap a few keys, and the image on the screen would change. He seemed to be lost in thought, only pretending to be interested in whatever he was looking at.

Sam cleared her throat then, and Rodney jumped a little in his seat. He turned his head to look at her, and she smiled cheerfully at him. "Hey, Rodney. Whatcha doing?"

He appeared to be puzzled by her question, as if even then, he was distracted by his thoughts. "What?" he asked, then said, "Oh. I was just going over some figures for yet another simulation. I still can't figure out why the computer isn't recognizing the ventilation systems. Zelenka and I checked them, and they appear to be working fine."

"Hmm. Did you try…" she began, but he cut her off, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.

"We've tried everything. Restarting the computer, checking control crystals, disconnecting and reconnecting the ventilation." At her expression, he quickly added, "Immediately, of course, so no one went without proper venting for more than a minute."

She came toward him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "You'll figure it out, Rodney."

"Yes, I will. It's just getting fairly frustrating."

"Maybe if you needed help…"

He sighed. "Zelenka's been in here every few hours or so, trying to get me to let him help me. I just feel like I work better alone."

She seemed slightly disappointed at that, but gave him a small smile anyway. "Well, if you change your mind, I could always help."

He cocked his head at her. "You?"

She nodded.

"Don't you have…commander-ish stuff to do?"

Sam grinned at his typical made-up vocabulary. "It gets surprisingly boring up in that office."

"I bet," he replied under his breath, yet loud enough for her to hear.

"So?" He heard her ask.

"So what?" She gazed expectantly at him, until he understood what she meant, and he shrugged in return. "Right. Well, I suppose you could look over my data, though I doubt there's anything wrong with it."

Always such a proud man, she chuckled in her own head. Completely unwilling to accept that he was only a human being, that he could ever be wrong. It was what made her like him, and also what utterly annoyed her.

"Okay," she merely replied, removing her jacket and draping it over a chair. She pulled the chair close to his workstation, and sat down in it. "You have any coffee?"

He gazed down at her for a moment, thinking, then nodded. "Yeah."

When he didn't move to get her a cup, she sighed and stood up. "Thanks."

He watched her walk away, unconsciously staring at her long, blonde hair, which was braided down her back and tied with a black band. "No problem," he said, still staring. Then, realizing what he was doing, he shook his head as if to clear away the thoughts rambling through it, and turned back to his computer. She returned a moment later, and held something out to him. He swiveled his chair to look, and saw that she had brought him a mug of coffee. Confused by her thoughtfulness, he blinked rapidly a few times before he took the mug from her hand.

"Thank you, Sam," he said, and she smiled sweetly at him.

"You're welcome, Rodney."

They worked together for two hours, only arguing with each other once in all that time. Finally, their companionable, and quite uncharacteristic, quiet was broken by a burst of static on the comm. in Sam's ear.

"Colonel Carter, SGA-4 has returned."

She frowned apologetically at Rodney. "Sorry, Rodney. Duty calls."

"That's okay," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. In truth, however, he was more than a little disappointed. He'd hoped to be able to be near her for longer than he had.

"Keep working on it," she said, patting his shoulder as she passed by him, on her way to the door. "I know you can figure this out."

Before he could reply, she was gone, and he went back to staring at the computer screen. At least a dozen times while she'd been there, he'd tried to think of a way to tell her about the dream he'd had, but nothing sounded right. Any way he said it in his head, it sounded…well, creepy. In the end, he'd just given up on the subject. It was just a stupid dream anyway.

Wasn't it? He asked himself.

"Of course it was," he said aloud, instantly feeling like an idiot for it.

Stretching back against the chair, he flexed his head toward his left shoulder, then rolled it toward the right. This whole thing was stupid – the ventilation problem, the dream, everything. None of it made any sense, and so his logical mind decided to just forget everything except the ventilation problem, since it was more than a little important to the people on Atlantis.

He'd figure out the rest later.

Ronon was released from the infirmary an hour after waking up. Jennifer had gotten the last of the test results just before then, and reading them, she couldn't find a single thing wrong. There was no reason that he should've collapsed like that. Just like Teyla, she thought. None of it made any sense.

She'd gone out to the main room then, where Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon were, cracking jokes and telling stories to each other. Jennifer noticed the way Sheppard looked at Teyla every once in a while, and it set her own heart fluttering. She wondered, somewhat sadly, if anyone would ever look at her that way, then shook her head. Get your head out of the clouds, Jennifer, she scolded herself.; you have more important things to worry about.

After explaining the results of the tests, she told a grateful Ronon that he could finally leave.

"However," she said, and his scowl came back to his bearded face. "You need to relax for a few days. And that means no sparring."

He didn't seem happy with that, but he nodded anyway. "All right."

She stared into Sheppard's green eyes. "Colonel, you're in charge of making sure he obeys my order."

"Will do, Doc. Thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied, nodding at Teyla, who returned the motion.

Sheppard and Ronon walked together through the halls, followed closely by Teyla.

"Where are we going?" Teyla asked, though she had already guessed the answer from the direction they were headed.

"Mess hall," both men replied, and she grinned. They might as well have been brothers, they thought so much alike sometimes.

When they reached the mess hall, they all filled their trays with food, and chose a table away from the crowd of people in the room. As usual, Ronon and Sheppard sat across from each other, and Teyla sat to Sheppard's left. They ate in silence for a while, until Ronon suddenly pushed his tray aside and leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table.

"I need to tell you guys something, but you need to keep it a secret," he said, his heavy brows furrowed.

Sheppard looked at him quizzically. "O-kay."

Ronon glanced around until he was satisfied that no one would be able to hear their conversation.

"I had this dream a few nights ago, and since then, I feel like I can't sleep at all."

Sheppard grinned, and Teyla knew he was about to say something flippant. "You, not sleep? What's this world coming to?"

There it is, she laughed to herself.

"What kind of dream?" she asked Ronon, and he seemed to become embarrassed.

"I, uh…does it really matter?"

"It does if you want us to help you figure out what's going on," Sheppard put in.

Ronon rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. I dreamed that I was on Sateda, at the hospital. It was right before I lost my…someone I loved very much. Only instead of her being there, it was someone else."

Intrigued, yet feeling that pit in his stomach again, Sheppard eyed him curiously. "Who was it?"

Again, Ronon was embarrassed. A deep shade of red crept up his neck and into his face. As quietly and quickly as he could, he mumbled, "Doctorkeller."

Almost sure he'd heard what Ronon had said, Sheppard leaned forward. "What was that, buddy? I don't think I got it."

Knowing exactly what Sheppard was doing, Ronon scowled. He knew he couldn't just ask them to forget it; it had already gone this far, he might as well finish it.

"Doctor Keller."

Teyla was more than a little surprised. Every time Ronon encountered the doctor, they seemed ready to fight each other to the death. She wondered now, if that was just a front they put up, so that neither one understood how the other really felt. Or anyone else, for that matter.

Sheppard's grin was near maniacal now.

"Really?" he asked, drawing the word out as long as he could. He leaned back in his chair, his one hand tapping mindlessly on the tabletop. "This is new."

"Sheppard," Ronon growled, "if you say anything to anyone…"

Sheppard laughed then, and Teyla couldn't hide a grin in response. "Don't worry, big guy. I won't tell."

"Better not," the large Satedan grumbled.

Teyla spoke up then. "Ronon, have you mentioned your lack of sleep to Doctor Keller?"

He shook his head. "Why?"

"Maybe it has something to do with your collapse. Perhaps you were simply exhausted."

"You know, she has a point," Sheppard chimed in.

Ronon thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. "What do you think the dream means? You think the doctor's in danger?"

"Nah," Sheppard replied. "I think she'll be okay."

"So I shouldn't worry about it," he said, though it was more a question than a statement.

"Exactly."

Ronon didn't seem to agree, but he kept silent. Then, he glanced over at Teyla's tray.

"You gonna eat that jell-o?"

Teyla grinned widely at him. "You may have it."

"Thanks," he said, and reached over the table to grab it. He ate it in three large spoonfuls and tossed the empty cup on his own tray. "So," he said then, "what do we do now?"

Sheppard thought for a moment before saying, "How about a movie?"

Teyla shook her head. "I am afraid I must get back to my room. Torren will be waking soon."

"Who's watching him, anyway?" Sheppard asked.

"Colonel Carter. She came to speak with me, and…" she was about to mention the note Sheppard had left her, but realized that Ronon would take it the wrong way. She didn't wish to lie, but there was really no other alternative. "She'd informed me of Ronon's collapse. She offered to watch Torren until my return."

"Oh," Sheppard replied, shooting her a knowing glance. Then, he turned to Ronon, "Looks like it's time for a guy movie. You in?"

"Sure."

Relieved that Ronon hadn't seemed to catch her hesitation, she stood up and smiled. "You two enjoy yourselves."

"See ya, Teyla," both men replied, again in unison, and she laughed aloud.

The two men sat together for a while after she left, talking casually. Then, Ronon leaned forward again, and said, "So, are you two gonna talk about it, or what?"

"Talk about what?"

Ronon rolled his eyes. He knew that Sheppard wasn't quite that dense.

"About how you feel about each other."

Though Sheppard was panicking inside, he forced his expression to remain unchanged. "There's nothing to talk about, Ronon."

This time, Ronon burst out laughing. "Sheppard, you're a horrible liar."

Sheppard acted hurt. "Hey!"

"Everyone can see it, you know."

"Ronon, I think all that sparring has messed up your head. Teyla and I are good friends, that's all. She's like a sister to me."

"Uh-huh," Ronon replied. "Fine. Forget I said anything."

"Thank you."

But Sheppard couldn't forget. Was it true? He asked himself. Did everyone really think that he had feelings for Teyla? Shaking his head free of those thoughts, he stood up and pushed his chair in. "Let's get to the rec room and watch that movie."

"Sounds good to me," Ronon replied, and he followed Sheppard out of the mess hall. A smile twitched the corners of his mouth as he walked. He'd gotten a reaction from his friend, and to his surprise, it was exactly the reaction he'd hoped for. It only served to confirm what Ronon had already known – that John Sheppard was more than just a soldier after all.

Sheppard had just collapsed onto his bed, fully clothed, when he heard a noise coming from somewhere in his quarters. At first, he tried to ignore it, figuring that his imagination, fueled by his lack of sleep, was in overdrive. But as it continued, the ever-present pit in his stomach told him that he should get up and investigate. Huffing out a weary and somewhat perturbed sigh, he pushed himself off the mattress and switched on his bedside light.

Everything looked normal – his car magazines still scattered across the table, his laundry basket overflowing, the walls and floor just the way he remembered – and yet there was an energy in the room, as if the room itself was alive, breathing, watching him. Sheppard walked into the small kitchen, grabbing his sidearm as he walked past the chair he'd laid it on earlier. He flipped on the light, performing a visual sweep for anything out of the ordinary. Convinced the room was clear, he continued to the bathroom, where the energy seemed to be growing stronger. He stopped outside the door, which was half-closed, and took a few breaths to calm himself. He wouldn't go so far as to say he was afraid of the dark, but the question of what or who could be there always gave him pause. Too many horror movies, he chided.

Sheppard swung open the door and in the same motion flicked on the light switch. The room was immediately bathed in bright blue-white light, as was the figure who stood just inside. Sheppard shook his head in disbelief, lowering his gun as he spoke to the person.

"Mom?"

His mother smiled sweetly back at him. "Hello, John."

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, of course."

At that, he considered raising his gun again, but his arm wouldn't move. Instead, he shook his head again. "Came to see me? You're dead."

His mother's smile faded at his reaction. She took a step forward and reached out to touch him, but stopped just short. Instead, she said, "I missed you. You left so quickly, I never got to say goodbye."

Sheppard was confused. "I left? Mom, you're the one who left. You died, and left us behind!"

"I had to. But I knew your father would take care of you."

He scoffed at that. "Take care of us? Oh, sure, if you count leaving us with nannies while he went on business trips for weeks on end as 'taking care of us'."

Her lips formed a tight line. "John Sheppard, do not talk about your father that way."

He scowled, but didn't respond to her admonishment.

"He did the best he could," she continued. "And you both grew up fine."

Sheppard was growing ever more tired of this conversation. His mother wasn't really there; he knew that for a fact. Was he dreaming? No, he told himself. He was quite sure he was fully awake. So, then, what was going on here? Taking a step back, he leaned against the door frame and asked, "What do you want from me?"

"I told you, I…"

"Came to see me," he interrupted. "Yeah, I got that. What I'm trying to say is, you're not really my mother. She died when I was young. So, who are you, and what do you want?"

At that, his mother smiled again, but it was a sinister grin, like nothing he'd ever seen on her before. A small shudder of fear edged its way up his spine at the sight. She turned to look at herself in the mirror, and as she stared at her reflection, she replied, "I want your mind."

Sheppard gulped involuntarily, and leveled his sidearm at her. "You…what?"

"At first, the only way I could invade your mind was while you were asleep. But because of your…insomnia, I soon found that your mind and body were weakening, and you were more vulnerable even while awake. Very shortly, you will be too weak to resist me from taking control of your mind."

Though panic still gripped him, he forced his voice to remain even. "That's…interesting. But, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not go Amityville here."

The impostor shook her head sadly. "You won't have a choice, I'm afraid."

"How did you get here?"

"We have our ways. Certain systems in your city are quite easy to…infiltrate."

Sheppard blinked. "We? You mean there are more of you?" His mother nodded, almost gleefully, and he followed up with another, more specific question. "How many?"

"Twenty."

His stomach now churning full speed, Sheppard gazed around for his comm., and saw it on his beside table. Cursing himself for leaving it there, he turned back to look at his "mother", but she had gone. The bathroom was empty, and the energy he'd felt earlier had also dissipated. Slumping against the doorframe in relief, he slipped his gun into the waist of his pants and covered his face with one hand, allowing himself a quick moment to gather his wits. Then, he jogged over to his bed and grabbed the comm. device. He slipped it over his ear, and pressed the button to talk.

"Rodney? Rodney, wake up!"

Rodney's voice, annoyed by the interruption of his sleep, replied, "I'm awake, thank you. What the hell is it?"

"Are you still having problems with the ventilation system?"

The mention of his latest problem piqued Rodney's interest. "Yes," he replied slowly, his mind already wondering why someone like Sheppard would suddenly be interested in it. "Why?"

"I think I know what's causing the problem. I'll meet you in the lab in twenty."

"Twenty? Why twenty?" Rodney whined. He knew without a doubt it should only take the Colonel ten minutes to reach the lab from his quarters.

Sheppard rolled his eyes at his friend's tone. "I need to do something first. Just meet me in twenty."

"Fine," Rodney muttered, and Sheppard could tell that he'd cut off his radio.

Sheppard reached Teyla's room sooner than he'd anticipated, and entered her room without sounding the chime. He didn't want to wake Torren, after all.

Teyla was sleeping fitfully, tossing her head from side to side. He stepped over beside her, and lightly shook her shoulder to wake her.

He hadn't anticipated what happened next.

Teyla swung her fist at him, catching him square in the jaw and sending waves of pain all the way to his temple. Then, her blanketed feet tried to kick him, but by then he'd recovered, and had pinned her legs down with his knee.

"Teyla!" he shouted, still trying to evade her swinging fists. "Teyla, wake up. It's me!"

Finally, her eyes opened, and she was met by the sight of his face inches from hers, his left cheek slowly turning a bright red. Her confused mind tried to understand why it felt as if there was a heavy weight on her legs, why Sheppard was holding both of her wrists in his hands.

"John?" She asked, unsure if she was really awake.

"Hey," he replied, though he still didn't release her from his grasp. "Some dream you were having, there."

"Yes," she muttered, refusing to meet his gaze at first. When she peered into his eyes, she could see some sort of inward battle raging there. Not fully sure she liked where his thoughts were headed, she cleared her throat, and he shook his head, sufficiently brought back to reality.

Sheppard stood back up, opening his hands as he did so. She sat up in bed, gazing at him curiously before she finally noticed the red mark on his face.

"John! Did I…?"

When he nodded, she sucked in a breath. "I am sorry."

His signature smirk crept onto his lips. "No big deal. You hit like a girl." It wasn't true of course, and they both knew it, but it eased the tension between them and told her she was forgiven.

"I wanted to make sure you were all right," he continued, "and that there wasn't anyone hiding in your room."

She was openly puzzled. "In my room?"

"Yeah. Let's just say I had a little visit a few minutes ago, and I think I know what's been going on around here."

Teyla had slipped out from under her covers as he explained, and was already grabbing her regular clothes when the door chime sounded. She looked at him helplessly, and he smiled and said, "I'll get it. You go ahead and change."

When he saw the bathroom door shut tight, he slid open the door for Doctor Keller, and then stood aside for her to enter.

"Colonel," she acknowledged, and he nodded.

"Hey, Doc." His gaze took in her outfit: striped pajama pants and a college football t-shirt, paired with white sneakers. Her hair had been in a ponytail, he noticed, but most of it had come loose in her sleep, and she hadn't bothered to fix it. He didn't care; it was nearly four in the morning, and everyone was entitled to look like crap at that early hour. Even doctors.

He gestured around the room as he spoke. "The baby should stay asleep for another hour at least, so if you want, you can crash on the couch. There should be bottles in the fridge, and his diaper bag is on the floor next to the crib-thingy."

"Thank you, Colonel. I'll be fine."

Just then, Teyla emerged from the bathroom, her long hair braided neatly down her back.

"Ready?" He asked, and she nodded to him before flicking her eyes toward Jennifer.

"Thank you so much, Doctor Keller," she said, inclining her head to her.

Jennifer waved her hand. "It's no problem."

Sheppard shot her a look of gratitude as he ushered Teyla out the door into the hallway, and she almost laughed out loud. Really, she said to herself, as if watching a newborn was harder than performing surgery. She'd been babysitting since she was 11 years old, and it came almost naturally to her now.

With a quiet sigh, she relaxed on the couch and pulled a book out of the bag she'd brought with her. Knowing she had quite a while before Torren woke up, she fully intended to use that time to catch up on her murder-mystery.

TBC...

Notes: I've succeeded in shutting Sheppard up for a while, but I gotta be fast...many may wonder how Shep is able to figure out what's happening so soon...well, you may recall his MENSA scores?? Yep. He doesn't like to publicize it, but he's actually incredibly intelligent for a humble "flyboy". Not to mention, it's not like they haven't been in a similar situation before, so it's pretty simple to figure out, at least for him. Leave me some feedback, let me know what you think....