Road Trip

by stella-pegasi

The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation? (Please note: For the most part each chapter is contained to one location and the story arc is complete within each. Road Trip began to take a life of its own at some point and became this epic length. And yes... I'm going to finish this... almost halfway done.)

12. Part 6 The Road Home Day One - Three

Title: Road Trip

Author: stella_pegasi

Rating: K +

Genres: Slice of life, action, friendship, humor, and Whump!

Word Count: Part Six… The Road Home Day One - Three

Spoilers: Post-Season Five (Occasional references to events during Seasons 1-5)

Warnings: Language, this segment contains mention of past suicide incident.

Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett

Summary: The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

Disclaimer: I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

Author's Notes: I know… it's been a while… I am sorry about the delay but a lot of things going on in real life. I appreciate all the messages from everyone wanting to know when the next segment would be posted and for all the suggestions. I never intended for it to be so long between postings, but it was. There will be one more entry into this now extremely long story. Part of me doesn't want to finish it but at some point, I have to. These guys have to go back on duty sometime!

This segment is a transition of sorts, a little character study, a bit of a travelogue, and some… well... you'll find out. I hope you enjoy… I've tried to stay true to these wonderful characters but also give them some depth we were never able to see on the show.

Hope you enjoy. I promise I am finishing Road Trip. I cannot guarantee it will be within the next month, but I will make every effort to have it done as quickly as possible! Thank you for your patience and support!

Happy Holidays and Wonderful 2014 for all!

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Road Trip Part Six… The Road Home Day One – Day Three

by stella_pegasi

Sheppard glanced at his watch, it was fifteen minutes before they agreed to meet for dinner, but he was restless and decided to head for the lobby early. As he opened the door, he found McKay standing in the hall, hand poised to knock.

"Rodney, I was just heading down…"

McKay held out Sheppard's black Stetson hat, "I picked it up in the street outside the restaurant, then left it in the SUV Lorne picked me up in at the hospital."

"Uh… thanks, I thought it was gone." Sheppard stepped back into the room, placing the hat on the dresser. Rodney followed him.

"Lorne found it, thought it was mine and when he and Isaacs brought the rental back here, he asked the hotel to put it in my room." McKay picked at the cuff of his shirt, his lips pressed in a thin line.

"You okay?"

McKay waved his hand in the air, "Yeah…" then shook his head, "No… I'm not."

"You want to talk about it?"

"Do you?"

"Rodney…"

"We're not very good at this talking thing, I mean you, me, or Ronon. Carson could but then… he'd just start crying."

We've been through worse."

"Yeah… on Atlantis, on a mission… I never thought we'd... we almost lost Ronon and you could have died."

"McKay, a wise general recently told me to stop feeling guilty about what's happened to us on this trip. He was quick to remind me that we didn't cause any of the things we've gone through. We reacted the way we are trained to react, nothing more."

"Um… nothing more; seems a lot to me."

"Rodney, you saved Ronon's life. If you hadn't thought to bring Sam back here to use the Goa'uld healing device, he'd be dead."

"Yeah, well, that's all thanks to Sam." He sighed, "Why us, why do these things always happen to us?"

A slight smile crossed Sheppard's face. He cocked his head and said, "General Landry asked me if I wanted a team of Marines to come with us as a protection detail."

McKay's head whipped around, "Did you…?"

"No… no Marines."

"Yeah well, probably for the best…"

"Let's go have dinner."

As Sheppard closed the door to his room, McKay said, "I am hungry."

"Oh yeah, so what else is new, McKay?"

Ronon was waiting for them downstairs, sprawled across a lobby couch. Beckett arrived just behind them, and the friends walked across the lobby to the Core Kitchen and Bar. After ordering dinner, and the server hurrying off to get their drinks, silence fell around the table. Sheppard slid his fingers around a water glass, absently tapping the icy surface. Ronon slouched in his chair, while McKay's eyes were downcast as he fidgeted with his silverware.

Carson Beckett glanced from friend to friend, then said, "You lot look like a wee bunch of numpties."

McKay's head shot up, "A wee bunch of what?"

"Yeah, Carson, what the hell does that mean?" Sheppard leaned back, fingers gripping the edge of the tabletop.

With an exaggerated sigh, Beckett threw up his hands, "It means you're all a bunch of fecking eegits."

McKay's eyebrows drew together, clearly not understanding, but Sheppard chuckled, "Well, that I understand." He leaned over the table, "Why do you think we're being idiots, Doctor."

"We need to talk about what happened, John."

Sheppard's eyes flickered to McKay briefly then back to Beckett, "It's over; we're here, we're okay, let's move on."

"Move on… simply move on, exactly how do we do that? I sat by Ronon's bed for hours, not knowing if he would survive, while Rodney was out searching for you."

Ronon grasped Beckett's shoulder, "No worries, Doc."

Beckett ran his hand through his hair, "I'm a doctor; I'm used to injury and dying, but somehow this is different. It's different from being on Atlan…" He stopped when Sheppard waved his hand to shush him as he started to speak Atlantis out loud. "Here, we're just friends, and we almost lost two of you, not once but twice since we left San Francisco. I just think we need to talk about it."

McKay stuttered, "I… I…," not able to finish his thought, he picked up his glass of ice water, taking a big gulp.

Scratching his head, Sheppard said, "I think what Rodney is trying to say is we're uncomfortable talking about the last few days. We've been through a lot, not just here; we should just move on."

Beckett frowned, his eyes tracking from Sheppard to McKay to Ronon, "If we're not going to discuss what happened to the two of you, could we at least have closure about the woman and her daughters who were kidnapped with you? I only know bits of what occurred, and I never got a chance to hear what you learned during the debriefing."

Chewing on his lower lip, Sheppard was about to answer when the server arrived with their drinks. He took a long sip of his scotch before he spoke.

"First, the good news, Lorne went by the hospital to check on Nora, and the girls before he returned to Cheyenne Mountain. Nora told him her husband, Jeff Tate was going to make a full recovery, despite being shot at blank range. She also said her daughters were fine, but they were all going to see a psychologist in order to deal with what they've been through."

"I think Nora is a very smart woman, seeing a psychologist is exactly what they should do." Beckett never took his eyes off Sheppard as he spoke.

Sheppard shifted in his chair and continued. "Lorne said the Tucson police released Vicente Cruz into FBI custody. He's being held on numerous charges, including kidnapping and the attempted murder of Ronon and Tate, in addition to the human trafficking charge, and a long list of drug charges. The FBI and Homeland Security are also investigating the Russian mob operating out of Tucson. The fact they arranged to sell me to the highest bidder, who Homeland suspects may be part of Al-Qaeda, made Homeland and the Pentagon a bit nervous."

McKay, appearing uneasy, asked, "What about Detective Martinez?"

"Going to be fine, Lorne said he was at the meeting with Montez, the police chief, and the state prosecutor."

"Montez was an ass," McKay sneered, then his face softened, "but John you'd have been proud of Lorne. He didn't take any BS from Montez, and he was in control the entire time."

Sheppard shrugged his shoulders, a slight grin on his face, "Never been a time I haven't been proud of Lorne. Not even when he tells me what I need to hear," he chuckled, "whether I want to hear it or not."

"He a good lad," Beckett pronounced and his friends nodded in agreement. Beckett hesitated, then asked, "Listen, Dr. Lam told me all of you refused to speak with Dr. Borgia before we left. Since you were all still on leave, she let it go, but she's left orders for each of you to be evaluated before you can return to active duty."

Ronon leaned forward, "I don't need one of those doctors."

The doctor smiled, "Laddie you do; you were badly injured, near death and…"

"Don't need one."

Sheppard lowered his voice, "Carson… I expected we'd have to see Ross Warren when we got back to… home. Why can't we leave this alone for now?"

"Because the three of you are obviously uncomfortable, and it will be at least two weeks before we get home. I talked to Dr. Borgia; it helped. I think if we just talked about this…"

Two servers arrived with dinner, and the friends turned quiet as they dug into their food. Sheppard popped a chunk of grilled ribeye steak into his mouth, chewed a bit, then jabbed his fork in the air.

"I think part of our problem is we are back at this hotel, and it's too familiar, too many memories. If everyone's okay with this, let's leave tomorrow and head east. I…" Sheppard hesitated, "I've been thinking I would like to stop and see my aunt in Louisiana." He glanced at his plate, not looking up to look his friends in the eyes. He was surprised Ronon was the one to answer.

"That would be good… I mean, leaving tomorrow and meeting your aunt."

"Okay, then… we leave tomorrow morning. After we finish dinner, let's hit the bar for a drink, and turn in early."

~ooOoo~

Sheppard rousted Ronon at dawn for a quick run, then woke up the other two, telling them they had thirty minutes to be packed and downstairs. He had Ronon bring the car around to the lobby portico, while he took care of the hotel bill. A groggy McKay and Beckett managed to get downstairs on time, both complaining about breakfast.

"I'm hungry and I need coffee," McKay snarked as he got in the Range Rover.

Sheppard was getting in the front passenger's seat, while Ronon took care of the bellhop. "Chill out, McKay." He reached down on the floorboard, where he'd stashed coffee, "I've got coffee right here, and we'll stop for breakfast in Tucson."

Cup of coffee in hand, McKay quieted down and a few minutes later they headed off Dove Mountain toward the interstate. Beckett was asleep before the left the hotel property.

Approaching Tucson, Sheppard was napping when McKay poked him in the shoulder, asking, "Uh… when are we stopping for breakfast. I'm starving."

Rubbing his eyes, Sheppard said, "Rodney, you can't be hungry, you ate two desserts last night. Besides, you put on a few pounds while we were at the SGC, wouldn't hurt you to miss a meal"

"I did not gain any weight."

Sheppard looked over his shoulder, "You spent two days sequestered in Lee's lab with the good doctor's stash of chips and cookies. I know you got into them."

"How do you know about his special locker?"

"Don't forget, I was stationed at Cheyenne for those months we were off Atlantis. After returning from missions, I raided his snacks, quicker than the mess."

He glanced at the GPS, "Chewie looks like we're about a mile from the exit to Grant Road." Ronon grunted a yes, and Sheppard glanced back at McKay, "If you can keep from fainting from hunger, we're just a few minutes away from an I-Hop, and you can eat all the pancakes you want."

McKay was out of the Rover first, and inside before Beckett woke up. Ronon opened the door and helped Beckett out.

"Thanks, laddie; I am really exhausted, must be coming down after the adrenaline rush of the last few days." He looked around, "Where's Rodney?"

Sheppard held the front door open, and as Beckett walked in replied, "He's already inside, must be really hungry." He chuckled, "I'm beginning to believe he has a tapeworm."

Beckett grinned, "Could be, Colonel, but I have a feeling he's just feeding that big brain of his."

As soon as they ordered, McKay pulled out a new pad, "Rodney, when did you get that?"

"Oh… uh… got it while we were at the SG… at Cheyenne. Lee ordered several for his team, and I liked it, so he gave me one."

"Lee gave you one... really?" McKay stared at him, and Sheppard added, "There better not be any SFs looking for us."

"Bite me, Lee gave this to me."

Ronon grinned, "Better leave him alone until he gets food; really cranky this morning."

Beckett changed the subject, "John, where are we going today?"

"We're going to stay on I-10 heading east for a while, stopping when we want to stop. Sound okay?"

"Sounds good to me, laddie, since I have no idea where that road goes." He beamed, "I like surprises."

Sheppard groaned, "No more surprises, Carson… not sure we could survive them."

"I hear ya and I…" Beckett stopped when McKay's cell phone rang.

Startled, McKay fumbled to pull the phone from the inside pocket of his jacket, nearly dropping it before he glanced at the screen, then answered, "Why are you calling me? Did those goons screw up something?" He listened for a moment, "No. I don't know what that means." He was silent again, scrunching his face up as he listened. "Zelenka, shut up a minute, what makes you think this is important?" After listening for another moment, McKay spoke, "I don't know, just keep me informed if you overhear anything else."

"What the hell was that about?"

McKay stared at Sheppard before he answered the colonel's question, "I don't know. Maybe just Zelenka's over active imagination but he thinks the Area… the goons have found something in the database."

"What makes him think that?"

"Said he overheard Dr. Narain talking about someplace called Responos or something like that. Mean anything to you?" Sheppard shook his head, and McKay asked, "No mention of Responos from uh… your girlfriend?"

"My what?"

"You know, Captain Kirk, the one that talks to you."

Realization hit Sheppard that McKay meant Atlantis, "No… she's never referred to anything by that name. What…" He stopped as the server brought their food, then asked, "Zelenka didn't hear anything else?"

McKay shook his head, "No, Radek said once Narain noticed he was in the room he dismissed the tech he was talking to. Radek said the tech was one of the people working on the database."

A pensive look crossed Sheppard's face, prompting Beckett to remark, "John… I've seen that look before when you're concerned about something. What are you thinking?"

Sheppard bit his lip, then gave Beckett an almost imperceptible shrug. "I don't know, Radek mentioned something a few weeks ago and when we were at Cheyenne Mountain, I got the feeling something was up. I asked Landry and Sam if something was going on, they both tapped danced around my question, Sam wouldn't tell me what the mission was she was on when recalled to save Ronon." He shrugged again, "I don't know, either something is up, or we're just being paranoid."

McKay, shoveling a forkful of pancakes into his mouth, sputtered, "We should go back."

"No we're not going back, and please, McKay… don't talk with your mouth full, there's syrup all over your chin."

Frowning, McKay grabbed and napkin and wiped his chin, then pointed his empty fork at Sheppard, "Something is going on, I know it. We should be there."

"I said no, and don't pester Zelenka; he'll call if he finds out anything else. Now everyone... eat; we need to get on the road."

~ooOoo~

John Sheppard felt relaxed for the first time in more days than he wished to count. Slouched in the front passenger seat, arms folded across his chest; he gazed out the windshield through half-lidded eyes. The seemingly endless road stretched in front of them; worn black asphalt in stark contrast to the beige and gray of the sandy terrain, dotted occasionally with sparse green scrub brush. A distant lone ridge appeared to remain the same size regardless of how far they traveled toward it. The only thing that saved the monotonous view was the cornflower blue sky, dotted with wispy streaks of clouds.

He glanced at Ronon, so intent on driving, listening to the Brazilian jazz CDs he bought when they stopped for gas before leaving Tucson. While Ronon was fueling the Range Rover, he and Beckett walked to the drug store next to the service station. Beckett wanted some magazines and while there he browsed through a bin of cheap CDs, finding a couple of old Johnny Cash and Waylon Jennings recordings along with a couple of Brazilian jazz CDs. He bought several and now they were listening to music by Sergio Mendes and Brazil 88. The Latin-flavored jazz, along with Mountain Dew, quickly became Ronon's favorite thing about Earth.

Low snoring drifted from the back seat; a quick look over his shoulder revealed Beckett was sound asleep, an open fishing magazine in his lap. Sheppard smiled knowing the soft tapping behind him was McKay on his laptop, lost in a project. This was what he hoped for when he had the harebrained idea to take a trip, peace and quiet with no real destination. As he settled into the seat, his eyes drifted to the dark-blue sky, and he was lost in the sensation of flying through the wispy clouds in an F-16.

A decrease in speed woke Sheppard up; he squinted to focus and saw they were off the interstate and turning into the parking lot of a food mart.

His voice hoarse with sleep, Sheppard asked, "Where are we?"

Ronon snickered, "A gas station in Deming; McKay needed a pit stop and wanted to stop at McDonald's. I needed gas, so I stopped here."

Sheppard laughed, "Well I have taught you, Obi-Wan."

From the back seat, McKay whined, "I only wanted to go where I knew the restrooms would be clean."

Ronon stopped the Rover next to a gas pump, and as Sheppard opened his door, "I know you too well, Rodney McKay." He looked at his watch, "It's been three hours since you ate, you wanted food." He hopped out, stretching his legs and McKay followed.

"I did not want food," McKay declared and stomped off for the food mart.

Beckett woke up, rubbed his eyes and joined Sheppard, who was walking toward the store. "Rodney hungry? That why we stopped?"

"Said he needed a pit stop but yeah, he's hungry."

Sheppard and Beckett were paying for drinks and snacks when McKay came from the back of the store. Sheppard grinned, "Clean enough for you?"

"Bite me." He looked into the bag on the counter, "Thought you weren't hungry?"

"Never said that; watch the bag, gotta make a pit stop myself."

Back on the road, Beckett handed out the drinks and snacks. Handing Sheppard a bottle of Coke, he asked, "John, you got a soft drink? You never drink those things."

As he took the bottle of Coke and a package of Zingers from Beckett, Sheppard answered, "Decided to walk on the wild side, Doc." He opened the Coke and took a swig, almost relishing the sweet acidic burn in his throat. "Got out of the habit of drinking these in Antarctica; hard to come by there."

While he was munching on a Zinger, McKay, who had already finished his chocolate cupcakes, asked him, "Where are we going to stop tonight?"

"Don't care, any place you want to stop?"

"Uh… I've never been to White Sands, and the site where they tested the atomic bomb. After visiting that museum in Vegas, I'd like to go there."

Sheppard looked at the GPS on the dash, "Okay; we're less than an hour from Las Cruces. Let's stay there; the Trinity site's on the northern edge of the White Sands Missile range. We'll go there tomorrow." He looked over the seat, "McKay, find us a hotel in Las Cruces."

An hour later, Ronon stopped in front of the Hotel Encanto portico. The multi-story hotel was designed in the Spanish Colonial style, the exterior adobe colored, red Spanish tiles on the roof. Sheppard got out of the Rover as a bellman hurried toward them, laughing silently as Ronon tossed the man the keys and told him to park it after he got the luggage out. He felt a moment of pride, Ronon was no longer the outsider on Earth, the Satedan caught on quickly.

McKay got out and Sheppard punched him in the arm, "You did very well; this place is gorgeous."

"Ow… don't do that. Well, this hotel's on me, so don't drink up all the little liquor bottles in the room."

Beckett walked past, "That's our Rodney." He grabbed McKay by the arm, "Come on then, get us checked in."

Native pottery, live plants, large flower arrangements, and richly upholstered furniture, in hues of cream and red, with touches of cobalt blue scattered about, filled the warm, cozy lobby. The corridor leading to the elevators ended in an alcove with an enormous silver cross standing against a cobalt blue wall.

Rodney booked four seventh-floor suites overlooking the pool for them. Sheppard tipped the bellman delivering his bags, and walked into the bedroom, plopping down on the king-size bed. Sinking into the numerous pillows, he stretched, surprised he felt terrific. His fingertips traced along his abdomen; he should have a scar from the wound he suffered when rescuing Rodney from his kidnappers. But that scar, along with the others he collected the last few weeks, was gone, compliments of Sam Carter and the Goa'uld healing device.

He was having difficulty reconciling the reality of what occurred in Tucson with the physical condition he was in. His mind recalled the pain from the beating he took but not even a twinge of pain radiated as he flexed his muscles. Flopping his arms over his head, Sheppard wondered if Ronon was having the same problem. Maybe Carson was right; it might be good to talk to someone. He scoffed; it was not really in his nature to want to see a shrink, but the last few days had been unnerving. That's it, he decided, he'd talk to Ross Warren when they returned to Atlantis. He laughed out loud, and said, "John, you know better; you'll change your mind before you get back."

He jumped up and walked into the bathroom, startled at the décor; there was a huge soaking tub in the corner, accessible by steps covered in the same dark sand tile as the floor. The walls of the bathroom were deep cinnamon red; the tub area decorated with columns, dark urns, and illuminate by recessed lighting.

He whistled lightly, saying, "Okay, from now on Rodney picks the hotels."

Glancing at his watch, he saw it was time to join his friends for a late lunch in the hotel dining room. He washed his hands, splashed water on his face and after debating whether he'd rather soak in the tub or eat, he reluctantly headed for the lobby.

Beckett was in the hallway waiting for the elevator, and flashed an enormous smile, "Did you see the pool, laddie? After lunch, I'm going swimming."

"No, I only saw the tub in my room. You got one of those big sunken Jacuzzi tubs?"

"Aye, and I can tell you, I'll be in it after a swim."

Pursing his lips, Sheppard said, "I can't believe Rodney booked suites for us." The elevator arrived and Sheppard added, "Don't let on how much we like the rooms. You know Rodney; we'll never hear the end of it."

Beckett snickered, "No reason to give the lad any ammunition; he pesters us enough as it is."

Sheppard and Beckett entered the terra cotta and blue main restaurant, nearly deserted in mid-afternoon. They found McKay and Ronon sitting at a table on the covered patio outside the hacienda style restaurant's main area.

Beckett sat down, gazing at their surroundings, "We've stayed in a lot of nice hotels on this trip, and I really loved the houseboat, but this place is amazing."

"You check out that tub?" Ronon asked as he scarfed down salsa and chips.

Sheppard and Beckett laughed, and Sheppard answered, "Yep, pretty cool."

Expecting McKay to snark about the hotel, Sheppard glanced up from his menu to see McKay staring at the fountain, oblivious to their chatter regarding the hotel. Sheppard knew that look, the scientist was preoccupied with what was happening on Atlantis.

As he was opening his menu, Sheppard said, "McKay, stop worrying about what Radek told you this morning."

"What makes you think I'm worried about that?"

"Because we all nearly gave you a compliment on the hotel selection and the suites you booked for us, and you are sitting there brooding when you should be preening. So stop it, if there is something going on, we will find out soon enough."

"But Sheppard…." He stopped when Sheppard put up his hand.

"Nope, no more… unless Radek calls with more info, we don't discuss this."

McKay stuffed a tortilla chip in his mouth, chewed it up and grinned slyly, "So you like the hotel, huh?"

"No to that as well…" Sheppard replied, "Your window of opportunity to preen is over."

"Don't need to talk about it, you like the hotel," he replied smugly, his head bouncing from side to side.

Ronon glared at McKay and Beckett sighed, saying, "Rodney, you are a fecking eegit."

Sheppard intervened, "Okay, you two leave McKay alone, let's order."

Scanning the menu, Beckett commented, "I hope they have a burrito like the tasty ones we had in Tucson." He paled, realizing what he had said, "Oh, laddies, sorry; I promised myself I wasn't going to bring that night up."

Sheppard, about to stuff a tortilla chip, dripping in salsa into his mouth, paused to reply. "It's okay; we need to put the bad stuff behind us, but we can't forget the good stuff, and the food at that restaurant was definitely part of the good stuff."

Beckett sighed, "I will never understand how you can go through what you go through, Colonel, and act as if nothing happened."

"Not so hard, Doc."

Beckett shook his head, "Ya don't fool me for a moment, laddie. I know better."

Sheppard was saved from replying when the server arrived with their beers and took their orders. After taking a swig of his beer, he told McKay, "It surprises me that you've never been to Trinity. How come?"

"I don't know; never had the time I suppose. I studied about the Manhattan Project in high school and always wanted to go, just never made it."

"Well, I think we might need an invitation to get in. There's a museum on the base, but I think the Trinity site itself is only open twice a year. I'll call Holloman after lunch and see if we can get permission to go to the site."

McKay's shoulders slumped a bit, "You think we can't get in?"

A bit surprised McKay seemed disappointed, Sheppard quickly added, "I know the Base Commander, not only did I attend Weapons School with him at Nellis, but served with him in Afghanistan. At one time, he also served under a certain general we all know, Jack O'Neill, so I'll call O'Neill if I have any issues with Cooper."

"How did you know he served with O'Neill?"

Sheppard raised his eyebrows, "Last time I was at Cheyenne Mountain for my effectiveness report, right after we arrived, O'Neill was there for an IOA meeting." He paused, "Mercifully the IOA was arriving after I left, and I didn't have to see our little friend." He paused again as McKay whispered 'weasel' under his breath, then continued, "O'Neill and I went out for dinner and a few beers, and we ended up discussing who we knew in common; Cooper's name came up."

Ronon asked Sheppard, "You been to this Trinity place before?"

He shook his head, "No; I spent two weeks at Holloman when I was a cadet, the Academy sent us there for training in career options, then I spent a few weeks there assigned to a unit training German AF pilots, but never made it out to ground zero."

"That place we were at in Vegas, this is where that bomb went off?"

"Yep, this is where the bomb dropped at Hiroshima was developed and tested."

"Like what Cowen was making?"

"Yep, Chewie, same thing."

The server brought their food, and their attention turned from bombs to eating. After their meal, Sheppard, Ronon, and Beckett decided to hit the pool. McKay begged off, and a reluctant Sheppard agreed. He suspected McKay would be on the phone with Zelenka before he reached his room.

A half-hour after finishing lunch, Sheppard, clad in his swimsuit, was basking in the warm, late-afternoon sun, stretched out on an orange lounger next to a crystal blue pool. Ronon was swimming laps; Beckett sitting on the side of the pool, dangling his legs.

Nearly lulled to sleep, Sheppard jumped when his cell phone, laying on the small table next to his lounger, buzzed. He sat up, grabbing the phone; a quick glance told him the call was from Holloman.

"John Sheppard is that you?"

"Hey, Coop, good to talk to you. Congrats on your command."

"Thanks and I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised to get a call from Colonel John Sheppard. Congrats to you as well… where the hell are you stationed?"

Sheppard hesitate a second, "Thanks and sorry, but my current assignment is classified, you're just gonna have to guess."

"Ah… keeping things close to the vest as always. You know Henry Kresey's stationed here now, but was at Edwards on a TDY a couple of months ago and told me he saw you, but never caught up with you. Said he asked about you and got nowhere fast… so whatever you're doing, must be top secret."

His gut clenched when he heard Kresey's name, the guy was not one of his favorite people, but he didn't let on to Cooper, "Sorry I missed him. So you got my request?"

"Yeah and no problem, stop by the base, and I'll have passes waiting for you at the main gate by 0900. I've notified White Sands you and the three other names you left on the voice mail will be visiting the site. I'm sorry I can't join you; I'd love to catch up, but I've got brass coming in tomorrow, and I have a meeting in about three minutes. But great to know you are doing good, glad you beat that rap; it wasn't fair, Shep."

"I'm kinda glad myself. Sorry we can't spend some time together but maybe next time. Thanks for the passes, I really appreciate it."

"No problem, hope to hear from you soon. And Shep, a suggestion, go to La Posta de Mesilla for dinner tonight. It's in a historical area, and the food is great, just a couple of miles from Las Cruces."

Sheppard thanked him for the suggestion, ended the call and flopped back on the lounger, talking to former unit members was never easy for him. With only a few exceptions, he expected to be shunned by most of the people he served with in Afghanistan, and expected a lot of incredulous reactions upon learning about his promotion. Cooper was a good guy, easy-going, rational, and he wasn't surprised by Cooper saying the black mark against him wasn't fair. Kresey was another story, and one bastard he hoped never to cross paths with again.

Movement next to him rousted him from his thoughts, he opened his eyes to see Beckett sitting down on the adjoining lounger. Beckett asked, "That the commander at Holloman?"

"It was and he's getting passes for us. We can pick them up at the base in the morning."

"You get along with him?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"I was watching you and a really dark look crossed your face. Figured he said something about…"

Sheppard rubbed his temples, "No... Cooper's a good guy, told me he was happy for my promotion and thought the other situation was… unfair. I guess you were looking at me when he mentioned someone I hoped never to see again."

"Someone involved in your situation?"

"No… a bastard that caused one of my crew to commit suicide."

Beckett had laid down, but sat up at Sheppard's revelation, "What happened?"

"You know the type Carson, the macho blowhard, who throws his opinion around as if what he thinks matters. One of my crew, Lieutenant Jay Morgan, was a quiet kid, right out of college, and this jerk Kresey decided he was quiet because he was gay. I have no idea if he was, he might have been considering what happened, but no one in our unit cared. Kresey, however, thought differently and what he did likely led Morgan to kill himself."

"What did the bampot do?"

"He… what's a bampot?"

"An idiot…"

"Carson, how many words do you Scots have for idiots?"

"Ah, laddie, many… there's lots of idiots in the world."

Sheppard managed a slight grin, "Yeah there are. Anyway, we were stateside; I was being reassigned to Special Ops at Hurlburt, and Morgan was heading for helo training. He and a few buddies went to a club in town popular with the military, and Kresey was there. There was a juke box in the club and Morgan played some song Kresey decided was gay, and he made a scene. One of the patrons told the police Kresey was very drunk and wouldn't stop complaining about the song. He went up to Morgan and verbally abused him, called him a fag and every other foul insult he could drag up. The patron reported Morgan kept his cool, handling the confrontation, but he must have been devastated to be ridiculed and taunted. Later, an SR on late-night patrol found his body, hanging from a ten-foot fence that surrounded a deck attached to his barracks. He'd used his belt, buckled it around his neck and fastened it to the top of the fence, then jumped off."

"Tragic for a young man to kill himself, John, regardless of the reason."

Sheppard nodded, as the dark look Beckett noticed earlier returned, "I confronted Kresey, told him I knew he was responsible for Morgan's death. Bastard denied it, said Morgan was a fag and should have been thrown out of the Air Force. I was really close to slugging the SOB when my CO, who heard us arguing, came out of his office and broke it up. I never wanted to hit anyone as much as I wanted to hit Kresey."

"Aye, laddie, a man like that needs to be put in his place, but unfortunately, they never seem to be."

"Hopefully, someday, whether someone is gay or not won't matter. I'm pretty sure there are more gays serving in the military than anyone knows. It's silly for us to keep them from serving openly."

Carson sighed, "Lots of scared people in the world. People are motivated by fear, of the unknown or their own desires, hard to fight unreasonable fear."

"Well, can't solve the world's problems, at least this world." Sheppard glanced at his watch, "I know we just ate, but Cooper told me about a good restaurant, not too far from here. It's around 1630, maybe we need to figure out what we're going to do tonight."

"Sounds good to me. I think I'll lay here, dry off and soak up some sun."

Sheppard got up, "I'm gonna take a quick dip, then we'll make some plans."

~ooOoo~

At 1910 hours, Sheppard rose from the comfortable lobby couch, told Beckett and Ronon he'd be back, and headed for McKay's suite. After Sheppard pounded on the door for a couple of minutes, McKay jerked open the door, then spun, walking toward the dresser as he buttoned his shirt. Sheppard strode in behind him, "McKay you're late again. Next time you yell at one of your scientists for being tardy to your morning meeting, I'm telling on you." McKay opened his mouth but Sheppard was faster, "And don't say bite me."

McKay closed his mouth, walking to the dresser to grab his belt. As he was putting it on, he spoke, "Something's up on Atlantis; I can feel it."

Sheppard leaned against the wall, arms crossed, "So you have spidy sense now?"

"Don't patronize me, something is wrong."

Throwing up his hands, Sheppard replied, "Look, nothing's wrong, I'm pretty sure if there was a major problem on Atlantis, Woolsey and Landry would have ordered us back."

"But…" McKay pointed his finger in the air.

"Let me finish…" Sheppard had his own finger up, "I didn't say I didn't think something was going on. I've thought that for a long time. But we don't know what it is and there is nothing we can do about it at the moment."

McKay picked up his jacket, "If you think there is something going on, don't you think we should go back?"

"No, I don't. If something is going on, it's above our pay grade. I learned a long time ago it's better not to ask too many questions."

Slipping on his jacket, McKay scrunched up his face in frustration, "Okay, if you say so."

"Rodney, do you have Zelenka snooping around?"

McKay bit his lower lip, then nodded. Sheppard straightened up, "Let's go eat and forget about this for tonight."

As McKay closed his door, he asked Sheppard wryly, "You're gonna call Lorne and have him snoop around, aren't you?"

Sheppard headed for the elevator saying, "Tomorrow morning."

The La Posta de Mesilla restaurant was located in a sprawling building within the boundaries of historic Old Mesilla. The single story was covered in aged white stucco, with small barred windows painted blue and a flat roof edged with tile, flags of the territories from the past and present flying above. As Sheppard pulled into the parking lot, McKay began whining.

"This place looks like a dump. I thought your buddy said it was great."

Sheppard parked and turned around to glare at McKay, when he spoke, his tone was flat, "For once, will you keep an open mind and enjoy yourself. This is a historic landmark; I read up on it. You're so all-fired ready to learn all you can about Pegasus, maybe you need to learn about Earth. Let's go have a nice dinner."

With Sheppard and Beckett in the lead and Ronon herding McKay, the four entered the festive lobby filled with cages of exotic birds, aquariums, paintings reflecting the area, and a large fountain nestled in the wall. Ronon, fascinated by the colorful birds wandered to look at them, while Sheppard checked on a table. McKay and Beckett sat down on an adobe bench jutting from the fountain wall.

Sheppard walked over to McKay and Beckett, "Just be a few minutes; they're clearing a table in the Blacksmith Room now."

McKay wrinkled his nose, "Noisy in here with all those birds."

Sheppard looked toward the bird cages to see Ronon nose-to-nose with a Toucan. He slipped up beside the big man, "Better watch it; he might bite."

Ronon grinned, "I remember a plan… a place I visited where there were birds like this, no people just lots of these birds. I was hungry, but I couldn't bring myself to kill one to eat. It was the first time I had seen so much color in such a long time. There was lots of fruit there, the trees were bursting with all kinds, so I ate my fill. It was warm, and I stayed there as long as I dared. It was a better place than most I visited."

"You think you can remember the address?" Ronon turned his head slightly and nodded. Sheppard smiled, "Then when we get home, we'll go there. I'd like to see it."

The hostess caught Sheppard's attention and led them to a table in the Blacksmith Room. The tables were covered with red table and colorful flowered runners, but the focal point of the room was a fireplace painted cobalt blue, sitting on a tall hearth and trimmed in Spanish tiles. Blue glass pendant lights suspended in front of the fireplace cast a soft bluish glow.

The moment they sat down, a server appeared with a basket of chips and a bowl of thick salsa, and taking one look at Ronon, said he'd return with another bowl of chips and more salsa. Another server followed immediately getting their drink and appetizer order.

Sheppard wasted no time diving into the chips, "Whoa... this is great salsa, just hot enough."

Beckett was absently eating tortilla chips as he gazed around the room, "John, what is this place?"

"I looked up the website after we left the pool, the place was built in the 1840s. You guys remember we watched that movie Judge Roy Bean last year?" Everyone nodded, and Sheppard continued, "Roy and his brother Sean ran a freight and passenger line at this location during the 1850s. After the Civil War, the La Posta Compound became a major stop on the Butterfield Stagecoach Line, and later the Corn Exchange Hotel opened in the building. I guess the restaurant was started when the hotel did; been here ever since."

Waving a tortilla chip, Beckett said, "I overheard someone say something about Billy the Kid when we were waiting in the lobby. Was he from around here?"

Ronon cocked his head, "Billy the Kid?"

"Yeah, Chewie, another Old West outlaw…"

Ronon grinned, "You had a lot of those."

"We still have outlaws now, but I think they are called bankers and politicians." He paused as the server brought their beers and appetizers. They dug into the chili con queso and guacamole with gusto.

Beckett, chugged down about half of his beer, and tried the guacamole, "Umm, this is good stuff. But don't you eat any Rodney, or the salsa; it has lime juice in it."

McKay scrunched up his face at Beckett and dug into the chili con queso.

Sheppard grinned, "So, Carson you like baby food, huh."

"You remembered, laddie, I'm surprised."

"Told you we could remember the good stuff that happened at the El Charro. I remember you told us that your sister made some and served it to your mum. Your poor mother thought it was baby food, and that it was your sister's way of telling her she was pregnant."

"Aye, John, exactly… you were paying attention."

"It was a funny story… I can only imagine your mother's face when she found out what the green stuff really was."

Ronon interrupted, "So… what's up with this Billy the Kid."

Sheppard shrugged, "Don't know much about him, when I read about Mesilla, there was a bit about him. Legend has it he killed twenty-one men, but history says he killed less than ten. He came here and went to work for a group of land owners, got involved in what they called the Lincoln County Wars. Bunch of business guys got into a squabble over cattle, and it got bloody. Eventually, Sheriff Pat Garrett went after Billy and captured him, he was tried here but escaped. Garrett caught up with him and killed Billy. Beyond that I don't know a lot more about him."

Deciding to order, the four men busied themselves perusing the menu, and called over the server. As they waited, they chatted about the décor of the restaurant and its history. Ronon, intrigued with the artwork hanging in the restaurant, wandered through the dining rooms to check out the paintings.

The server returned, laden with their meals and margaritas. The icy drink was served in heavy stemmed glasses, a thick coating of salt covering the green glass rim. As Sheppard reached for his glass, Beckett stopped him.

"I think a toast is in order." He paused, "To good friends…" he grinned, "and to a fun and uneventful remainder of this vacation."

As their glasses clinked, McKay muttered, "If only…"

Sheppard shook his head, "Way to go with the optimism, Rodney."

"Well… why should I be optimistic? Every time we turn around, we get shot or beaten-up…"

A couple of patrons at a nearby table turned, staring at them. Sheppard quickly shushed him, "Stop and lower your voice; our exploits aren't for other ears."

McKay's eyes darted around, a sheepish look crossing his face; he took a quick sip of his margarita, then dug into his food.

Darkness greeted them as they left the restaurant, and the exterior lights transformed the restaurant's pale adobe walls into shades of green, with white lights scattered about. McKay commented, "This place sure looks better after dark."

Sheppard, punching the remote to unlock the Range Rover's doors replied, "You look better after dark." Prompting Beckett to snicker and Ronon to thump McKay on the back.

"Har de har har, Colonel Flyboy."

Beckett was still laughing, "Rodney you walked into that comment; ya have to admit."

Getting in the Rover, McKay snarked, "Whatever."

Sated from the spicy food and two margaritas each, no one spoke much on the short trip to the hotel. Beckett fell asleep and Rodney was quiet, no doubt consumed with thoughts regarding Atlantis. Ronon was slouched in his seat, staring straight ahead.

Quietly, Sheppard asked, "What's on your mind, Chewie?"

Ronon's chest expanded as he took a deep breath, "Been thinking about the paintings at the restaurant. You remember my mother was an art teacher?" Sheppard said yes, and Ronon continued, "She told me I was pretty good, gave me lessons. I painted when I was young, but the Wraith…" he grimaced. "I haven't painted in a while, seeing those paintings in the restaurant made me miss it."

"You should start."

"Yeah…" he shrugged, "Lorne told me he'd help me."

Their conversation creased as they approached a fire station, and an engine pulled out in front of them, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Sheppard followed the fire truck until they reached the hotel, the flashing lights fading into the distance. After a brief discussion about having a drink in the bar, they decided since they planned on leaving early in the morning, they'd call it a night.

Sheppard unlocked the door to his suite and passed through the darkened living room into the bedroom, pulling off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt as he walked. Throwing the discarded clothes onto a chair, he headed for the bathroom. Since leaving La Posta, the thought of soaking in the Jacuzzi was beckoning him.

He turned on the faucet full blast and returned to the bedroom, slipping off his boots and the rest of his clothes. Spotting the snack cabinet, he chuckled softly and padded over, taking out two miniature scotch bottles. As he unwrapped a heavy glass tumbler, he knew McKay would whine when he saw the liquor on the bill. He also knew McKay wouldn't mean it; the acerbic scientist simply loved to whine.

He poured the amber contents of the tiny bottles into the glass and returned to the bathroom. When the tub was full enough, he flipped on the jets and sank down in the frothy hot water. For a few minutes, he abandoned all thoughts and immersed himself in the warmth.

After a few minutes, he tucked a rolled towel under his head and rested against the tiled tub rim. Taking a sip of the smooth Scotch, he savored the taste, a slight smile crossing his lips. He thought back nearly seven years, to McMurdo.

Hot soaks in a Jacuzzi located in a luxury suite was about as far as he could come from the cramped, lukewarm showers in Antarctica. For the first time in years, he thought about the moment that he touched the Ancient chair and felt the tingle of power flow into his fingertips. Beckett was there, chattering about stargates, and ancient genes but all he felt was the need to sit in the ornate chair.

One of his assignments on McMurdo was to test new helos and on more than one occasion during a test flight, he found himself drawn to Base Seven, a secret Air Force installation located miles from McMurdo. Why he felt compelled to return to the base over and over was something he didn't understand until the day he ferried General O'Neill to the base.

Attacked by an errant drone on the way, the general gave him clearance to enter the compound as a reward for, as O'Neill described it, his excellent flying eluding the drone. He wandered around until he entered an alcove finding the chair. Sighing, Sheppard took a drink of Scotch, thinking how it felt to touch it, and how as he circled the chair, he felt compelled to sit down. He remembered the rush of power flowing through him as he sat, the chair lighting up like a Christmas tree.

Visions of faces flashed before him, Elizabeth, Rodney, Daniel Jackson, and O'Neill running toward him. Rodney asking him to imagine where he was in the galaxy and images of stars and planets appearing out of thin air. Sheppard rubbed his eyes as he thought how confused he was then, and how he wasn't certain he was any less confused now. How he ended up with such a powerful gene thousands of years after the Ancients returned to Earth was still a mystery. His connection to Atlantis grew stronger with each passing day, and he found he missed interacting with the AI while they were gallivanting around the US.

He drank more scotch, then laughed aloud, "Well, John, seems like the only woman in your life is a computer. There is definitely something wrong with this picture."

After nearly thirty minutes, he reluctantly stepped out of the Jacuzzi, quickly crossing the tiled floor to the glass-enclosed shower. Grabbing the soap, he lathered up, rinsed, and pulling a towel off the warming rack, dried off. Grabbing what was left of his drink, he walked into the bedroom.

He tossed most of the decorative bed pillows onto the chair and pulled the ultra-soft sheets back. Without dressing, he slid beneath the covers; he'd always preferred to sleep in the nude, but years of needing to be combat ready in a split second tempered that desire. This trip at least allowed him that small pleasure.

Downing the last swallow of scotch, Sheppard turned out the bedside light. As he drifted to sleep, visions of his friends floated through his mind, replaced by visions of his family. The last thought he had was of his aunt Adelise, he knew then he wanted to go home.

~ooOoo~

"Good morning, sir; welcome to Holloman. May I see your IDs and vehicle registration?"

Sheppard handed over their CAC cards, driver's licenses and the rental papers on the Rover, "Good morning, Airman; I'm Colonel John Sheppard. Colonel Cooper said there would be passes waiting for us." The young SFO nodded, saying he would check and stepped inside the security booth.

Beckett chuckled, "I don't think that young man believed we're with the Air Force."

"Could be because not a single one of us has shaved in a couple of days. We do look a bit scruffy," Sheppard replied.

Ronon grunted, "I always look this way."

Sheppard looked over at Ronon and had to agree; with the dreadlocks and craggy facial hair, he did always look the same. "You're right, but I must say after all these weeks, I'm still surprised to see you in jeans and shirt, makes you look a little different."

"At least the lad wears shirts that are in style in contrast to Rodney," Beckett teased.

"Really funny, Carson… what's wrong with my shirt?"

"It's paisley, green and brown paisley."

"So? I like it."

Turning to look at Carson, who was behind him, Sheppard said, "Bet he wore that shirt in college."

"I did not; I got this in grad school…" McKay plopped back against the seat, "Great… that was smart."

Sheppard was about to reply when the airman returned.

"Colonel Sheppard, sir," He handed their IDs and an envelope to Sheppard, "Your IDs, and vehicle papers, vehicle pass, and an authorization letter from Colonel Cooper. The letter gives you permission to travel through the Missile Range, and visit the Trinity Site. You will need to present the letter to the MP at the gate leading onto White Sands, sir. "

"Thank you, Airman Simon," Sheppard passed the IDs and envelope to Ronon, who distributed them and then placed the vehicle pass on the left side of the dash.

"Sir, Colonel Cooper left a note suggesting you take the route through the missile range to get to the Trinity Site. It will still take around two hours, but it's a more direct route; here's a marked map, sir. Also, there are no facilities at Trinity, so the Colonel suggested you might like to take advantage of the Officer's Club before you leave the base." Airman Simon was grinning.

"I think that's an excellent idea. Thank you, Airman."

"Yes, sir. After we conduct a security sweep of your vehicle, take this road until you come to the flightline, then turn left, you'll see the Officer's Club across from Hanger C."

"Thanks," Sheppard said, handing him the Rover's keys. The SRs finished checking the rear hatch, under the hood and sweeping a mirror underneath the vehicle, then raised the security barrier, and he drove through the gate. A few minutes later, he parked outside the Officer's Club, "Okay, everyone out. It's going to be a long ride without a pit stop."

~ooOoo~

"How much further?"

From the front passenger seat, Sheppard said, "Could you please stop asking how much further it is?

Beckett added, "Rodney, you're the one that wanted to visit this place, so stop complaining."

"I'm not complaining; I'm just asking. We aren't going very fast."

"Like you do when you drive?" Sheppard replied. "We're on an Army base; I think we need to respect the speed limit. I doubt Landry will bail us out of the stockade."

"This is desolate county," Beckett said, "at least on the main highways we saw other vehicles and road signs."

"That's why they tested the bomb here, no one living for miles," Rodney said.

Beckett looked over at McKay, "What are you working on? That looks like Atlantis on your screen."

"Nothing," McKay answered.

Sheppard turned around, "McKay, what are you working on? I know you've been hiding something."

"I'm only looking over some reports Radek sent me, nothing to see here."

"You talk to Radek this morning?"

"Yes and nothing new. Did you talk to Lorne?"

Sheppard tapped his fingers on the armrest, "I did, and he definitely suspects something's going on. He also believes Woolsey is as much in the dark as we are. Lorne said he'd let us know if he discovers anything, so we wait. And to answer your question, we should be at the site in about forty minutes."

Everyone settled in again, Ronon driving, Sheppard playing games on a hand-held device, Beckett reading a fishing magazine, and McKay tapping away on his laptop. The only noise was the sound of the Rover's tires on the rough asphalt and Willie Nelson from the CD player, until Ronon said, "Uh… Sheppard."

Sheppard looked up to see a number of dark forms heading straight toward them, getting larger every second. He pointed out the front window, "Raptors," as a squadron of F-22s flew over, so low the heavy Range Rover rocked from the wash of the jet engines. Sheppard spun in his seat to watch through the back window as the fighters rapidly disappeared.

Grinning broadly, Sheppard said, "That was cool."

Ronon asked, "What were they?"

"F-22s out of Holloman, probably on a training run; dangerous flying so low if one of them had to eject." He shuddered, "Wouldn't want to have to do that again, especially at low altitude; odds are not good."

"John, you ever ejected from a plane?" Beckett asked.

Sheppard nodded, "Not something I want to do again." Shifting in his seat, he continued, "I started out flying F-15s; I graduated from the Academy in May and was flying sorties in the Gulf in August. When the war ended, I was rotated stateside and ordered to re-cert. I was TDY at Edwards with a bunch of guys who were in Iraq; all of us had logged more hours than the instructor who was doing the re-cert."

He chewed on his bottom lip, "I had the stick when we struck a flock of birds, came up from beneath us. I was about to power up to gain control of the plane again, when the instructor took the stick and started slowing our air speed. I was yelling at him to give it gas, but he ignored me. When it became evident he was going to crash, I told him to eject, and I pulled the lever, and got out of there. He figured it out and bailed a couple of seconds later."

"That must have been unnerving, laddie."

"Mostly, I was pissed. One, he took the stick away from me; second, he panicked and nearly got us both killed. Luckily, that didn't happen, but I can tell you, ejecting from a jet is quite a ride, I was sore for a week."

McKay asked, "What happened to the other pilot?

"There was an investigation and he was found responsible for the loss of the aircraft. He was only required to take additional training, and remained an instructor pilot. Too much money goes into training and into training the trainer, so they just slapped his wrist and called it poor judgment."

"I would imagine flying jets would be quite exciting. What made you start flying helos?" Beckett asked.

Sheppard drummed his fingers on the armrest again, taking a second before he answered. "During the Gulf War, I was stationed with a group of SOs; they were flying Paves, made a lot of missions right into the thick of things, air rescue, troop deployment; they'd come back from missions exhilarated. I was only flying sorties to take out weapon's installations. They kept after me to join the Special Ops division, so when I returned to the US, I applied and was accepted; transferred to Hurlburt and began training. When I got the chance, I applied for helo training and never looked back. Had a knack for flying helicopters so that's pretty much what I flew from that point on. I did keep my training and certs up for jets, just in case I ever needed to hop back in the seat."

He paused, chewing on his lower lip, then continued, "Came in handy once I was assigned to McMurdo. Was able to train on a bunch of different helos there, plenty of time on my hands."

"Like we have now, why couldn't you just get a chopper to take us?" McKay whined.

Before Sheppard could answer him, Beckett snapped, "Rodney, John got you on the base, now be quiet and play with your computer."

"I'm not playing."

Sheppard grinned, "Then what are you working on?"

"Leave me alone."

Forty minutes passed quickly, as Ronon and Beckett peppered Sheppard with questions regarding his tours in the Gulf War and after. Ronon spotted the fencing first, "That it?"

"Yeah, Chewie, think that's it. Looks like someone is waiting for us."

Ronon pulled up next to a small visitor's hut, and exiting the Rover; Sheppard took a couple of steps toward the approaching Army officer, who spoke.

"Colonel Sheppard, I presume," extending his hand, "I'm Captain Scott Hargood, welcome to the Trinity Site, sir."

"Captain, let me introduce you to Dr. Rodney McKay, Dr. Carson Beckett, and Ronon Dex. Thanks for allowing us to visit the site on such short notice."

"No problem sir, the missile range is quiet today, so the perfect time for visitors."

Grinning Sheppard asked, "And if I might ask Captain, what did you do to have the pleasure of opening the site up for us?"

Laughing, Captain Hargood replied, "Word of advice, never lose a poker game to your commanding officer. She's hell at poker, sir."

"I've had a couple of COs like that myself," Sheppard replied.

Ronon and Beckett wandered over a large, dark steel canister sitting near a path. Captain Harwood called out to them, "That's 'Jumbo,' it's a steel casing originally designed to contain the explosion, but the scientists decided it wasn't necessary. They put the thing on a steel tower nearly 800 yards from the blast; this was all that survived."

"This way, gentlemen," the captain unlocked a gate covering a long wide walkway. "Ground Zero is about a quarter mile this way." Pointing to the ominous radioactive caution signs, Harwood said, "Don't worry, radiation is very low here, only about ten times the naturally-occurring radiation anywhere in New Mexico, you get more exposure from a chest x-ray."

Before they headed down the wide dirt path to the site, the captain handed them pamphlets, "These are the brochures that are handed out to visitors. We hold open house on the first Saturday in October and April for the general public."

"Uh… that sign says toilets," McKay said, pointing to a mileage sign with arrow-shaped wooden planks pointing in various directions, words painted on them. "I don't see any."

"Sorry Doctor, we only bring port-a-potties out here when we have the open house."

"Come on, McKay… you'll just have to wait." Sheppard smiled and popped him on the shoulder with his fist.

They walked down the long path, falling silent as the reality of where they were sunk in. Approaching the large oval area where the bomb exploded, a simple obelisk made of black lava rock rose on the exact center of the explosion. A plaque noting the site was where the first nuclear device exploded on July 16, 1945 was attached to one side.

Beckett, standing next to the obelisk, was reading the brochure, "Listen to this lads, this essay was written by Ralph Carlisle Smith; he was a lawyer at Los Alamos. He witnessed the explosion and wrote about it."

Beckett read from the brochure:

"…another rocket went up about minus one minute. About then you could hear the warning siren at the bivouac area.

I was staring straight ahead with my open left eye covered by a welder's glass and my right eye remaining open and uncovered. Suddenly, my right eye was blinded by a light which appeared instantaneously all about without any buildup of intensity. My left eye could see the ball of fire start up like a tremendous bubble or nob-like mushroom. I dropped the glass from my left eye almost immediately and watched the light climb upward. The light intensity fell rapidly hence did not blind my left eye but it was still amazingly bright. It turned yellow, then red, and then beautiful purple. At first it had a translucent character but shortly turned to a tinted or colored white smoke appearance. The ball of fire seemed to rise in something of toadstool effect. Later the column proceeded as a cylinder of white smoke; it seemed to move ponderously. A hole was punched through the clouds but two fog rings appeared well above the white smoke column."

Beckett's voice was hushed, "What did we do that day?"

Sheppard looked around for Captain Harwood's location, before he replied; the captain had walked on toward the far fence, where memorial pictures were mounted and was out of ear range. "Remember something, we wouldn't have survived on Atlantis without this technology. We used a nuclear explosion to get rid of that nanovirus the first year we were on Atlantis, then we used atomic bombs to take out the Wraith. So, maybe what these guys did here over sixty-five years ago saved our lives."

"You are right, laddie, but I still don't think nuclear weapons are for the better good."

"Me neither," Sheppard replied, as he glanced at McKay, who was staring at the obelisk, lost in thought. He decided to leave him alone.

Ronon pointed over to a lump of what looked like concrete cordoned off near the obelisk, "What's that?"

McKay answered, "That's part of the leg of the tower the bomb was mounted on. The intense heat from the nuclear explosion vaporized it, all that was left, the stubs you see."

"Pretty powerful explosion," Ronon said. No one answered, letting his comment hang in the air.

The friends spent the next half-hour walking around the enclosure, perusing the memorial pictures of the explosion and the men who built the bomb, and at the "Fat Man" bomb casing. Sitting on a flat bed, the large white casing was egg-shaped, with a large box-like fin.

Ronon asked McKay, "That the bomb?"

"The bomb casing, called the Fat Man, the bomb was inside. This is what the bomb dropped on Nagasaki, Japan on August 9, 1945 looked like."

Beckett sneered, "Bloody ugly if you ask me."

McKay's head snapped around, "That bomb was a work of art…"

Sputtering, Beckett said, "A-Art? You call this art? This thing killed millions of people…"

"Damn it, Carson…"

Sheppard stepped between them, "Enough. I think we can agree that while a technical wonder, the bomb did kill a lot of innocent people… argument settled."

Ronon grasped Beckett's arm and drew him away toward a large metal shed with a plaque attached. After a few minutes, they returned to where Sheppard and McKay were standing.

Ronon said, "Nothing to see there, once you could see the crater the bomb made but apparently, sand covers it now."

"Rodney, what's trinitite?" Beckett asked, a note of caution in his voice as he directed the question to McKay.

"Uh… wait a minute, let me see if I can find some." McKay walked around for a bit, then muttered, "There's a piece." Bending over he picked up a small object and returned to the others. Holding out his palm, revealing a piece of green glass less than an inch in diameter, he said, "This is trinitite, when the bomb went off, the heat was so intense it melted the sand into glass."

Ronon took the trinitite from McKay, "The bomb did this… hard to believe."

"When they could access the site again, they found this trinitite covering the entire area, later they removed it all. But you can't take that, they won't allow it."

Ronon dropped the glass onto the sandy ground, then grinned at McKay.

"Rodney, you ready to leave?"

McKay turned his head at Sheppard's question, "Yeah… but I like to see the McDonald house."

"Where is it located?"

"Not too far, I think."

Sheppard nodded and waved to the captain, who joined then. "Captain, we've taken up enough of your time, but Dr. McKay has one last request. He'd like to see the McDonald house."

"Not a problem, Colonel; proceed back to your car and wait for me outside the gate, I'll take you to the McDonald House."

Sheppard pulled through the outer gate, and waited while the captain secured the compound, then pulled around them and led them to the McDonald House, approximately two miles away.

They parked outside the low stone wall surrounding the one-story tan stucco building. McKay hopped out of the car, and headed straight toward the dwelling. Captain Hargood walked up to Sheppard as he got out of the Range Rover, noticing McKay heading for the front door. He yelled out, "Doctor... you'll need the keys." McKay turned, and Hargood tossed the keys to him.

"Colonel, I didn't ask but Doctor McKay's a scientist, not a medical doctor, isn't he?"

Sheppard's eyebrow raised, "Astrophysicist, but why do you ask?"

"I've been out here with VIPs before, sir. I can always tell the guys who might have worked on this project if they'd been around then. They get real quiet and reflective, but not reverent. It's almost as if they find the place fascinating and repulsive at the same time."

"An astute observation, Captain; I believe Doctor McKay is experiencing just what you described." He pursed his lips, "I think the people who are smart enough to create such a weapon, are smart enough to be scared by it."

Ronon was standing next to a rectangular concrete box, its lid laying to the side. He asked the captain, "What's this?"

"That was a time capsule; it was buried in 1984 when the house was restored and opened last year. It contained pictures, some documents and a scroll with the names of the people who were present at the dedication. The documents are on display in the WSMR Museum Trinity exhibition."

Sheppard jerked his head toward the building, "Gonna check on McKay."

He found the scientist in one of the back rooms, "You okay?"

"I… I didn't expect this place would make me feel…"

"Excited and depressed at the same time?"

McKay stared at him for a second, "Yeah… more disturbed really. This is where they assembled the bomb. Did you know the Manhattan Project had spies in Germany learning all they could about the German's efforts to build one of these things?"

"You built one of these things… or rebuilt one."

"Yeah, but not one of these."

"Well, if you're jealous, you did blow up a solar system. These guys didn't do that."

McKay opened his mouth, but shut it when he saw Sheppard's impish grin. With a slight grin of his own, he said, "Rebuilt that 'bomb', so I guess I never created such destruction."

"Right or wrong, Rodney, the US didn't think they had a choice. They did what they thought they had to do."

McKay sucked in a deep breath, "I guess so."

Sheppard peered past McKay out the window into the back yard where Beckett and McKay were peering into a concrete container. He asked, "You ready to go? I'm hungry and if we don't feed Ronon regularly, we'll all be in trouble."

McKay nodded and they headed outside, where Beckett, coming from around the house, met them; Ronon and the captain behind him. "Did ya see the swimming pool? These guys used an old cistern as a pool, Captain Hargood says it gets really hot here in the summer."

"Saw it through the back window," McKay answered as he handed the key to Hargood. "We locked it."

Hargood smiled, "Sir... Colonel Cooper thought you might not want to make the long drive back to Holloman, if you prefer to exit the base on the north perimeter you can. It's much quicker to get to Highway380 from here and just about 12 miles to the interstate; it'll be a faster trip to Las Cruses."

"That would be great; I wasn't looking forward to the drive back to Holloman."

"Sir, you will pass by the Stallion Army Air Field, there's an MP shack right on the road, leave the pass there and an MP will escort you off the base. I'll notify Holloman you've departed. When you get to 380, turn left, and if you are hungry, there is a place in San Antonio called Buckhorn Tavern, best hamburgers anywhere. The green chili cheeseburger is my favorite food of all time. It'll be on your left, past Main Street; got a big buck head on the roof."

"Thanks, Captain, it's been a pleasure. We appreciate your time."

The pleasure was mine, Colonel, gentlemen." He shook hands with everyone, then pulled out a map, "Follow this road and when it dead ends turn right, and it will take you to the air field. Enjoy the rest of your leave."

~ooOoo~

The MP escorting them off the base, made a U-turn at the main highway. As he pulled up beside the Rover, he pointed toward the left and gave Sheppard a quick salute. Sheppard returned the salute and turned onto Highway 380 heading toward the small town of San Antonio, NM.

"How far is this restaurant?"

"Not that far, Rodney; be patient, we're all hungry," Sheppard answered. A harrumph was all he heard from the back seat.

The two-lane road stretched toward the horizon; green scrub dotted the terrain, rolling ridges in the distance. During the trip from the McDonald House to the gate, Beckett kept their attention, reading from the Trinity Site brochure.

Beckett sighed, looking at Rodney, "Glad you wanted to visit the site, very humbling. I remember studying all of this in school, but it didn't feel real, any more than reading about any history we haven't lived through. This made it very real to me."

"The problem with each generation, Carson; we never really learn from the past we didn't experience." Sheppard tapped the steering wheel. "I've been pretty up-close and personal to those bombs. Hope never to do that again."

The small town of San Antonio was little more than a sagebrush town with an old Spanish Mission church and a collection of stucco buildings. As they crossed Main Street, Sheppard said, "Look on the left for a building with a mounted elk head on the roof, that's where we're going, The Buckhorn Tavern."

Seconds later, Ronon pointed. "There it is."

The restaurant was unassuming but slightly more festive than the surrounding businesses. A low rail fence surrounded the building; an outdoor patio faced the street. A large mounted Elk head with a huge antler rack adorned the roof.

McKay hopped out of the car, and looked around, "Yep, Sheppard, always take us to the finest places."

Sheppard pulled off his sunglasses, squinting in the early afternoon sun, "Best green chili cheeseburgers around, McKay. What more do you want?"

Beckett pushed passed them, announcing, "I want a bathroom."

The interior of the restaurant was rustic, dark and cool; walls of knotty pine with Tiffany style lamps hanging from the ceiling. Just past two o'clock, there were still several diners inside; the bartender seated them, handing them menus. As they looked over the food selections, their server, her curly red hair pulled back in a pony-tail, arrived with glasses of water.

Smiling broadly, she said, "Welcome to the Buckhorn Tavern. I'm Cadi and what can I get for you?"

Sheppard gave his friends a questioning look, "Green-chili Cheeseburgers?" Everyone nodded and he said, "Four Buckhorn burgers, basket of fries, basket of onion-rings, four of your best local beers, and the Frito Pie."

"I'll take good care of you handsome boys, be back in a jiffy."

Rodney rolled his eyes upward, "Yeah… there you go, another waitress…"

"It's more appropriate to call them servers, Rodney, and she said boys… that certainly includes you."

Beckett snickered, "At least the boy part."

McKay sat back in his chair, rigid, crossing his arms. Sheppard stared at him, then leaned over, "Lighten up... you should be used to teasing by now."

The scientist glanced quickly at his friends, "Sorry… I…"

Sheppard asked, his voice low, "The Trinity Site really got to you, didn't it?"

McKay rolled the napkin-wrapped silverware in his fingers, taking a slight breath before his spoke. "Richard Feynman was a physicist who worked on the Manhattan Project; his picture was posted on the fence at Trinity. He was a junior scientist on the project, having just received his PhD, and his task to calculate the yields of a fission bomb. I met him; a couple of years before his death, he guest-lectured at my university. There was a reception for him afterwards, and I was invited by one of my professors. Listening to him talk about science for nearly four hours was amazing. But at one point, someone asked him about his work on the bomb, and his demeanor changed, he clearly didn't want to talk about it. I'll never forget the haunted look in his eyes, but I didn't understand why he felt that way. Back then I thought working on the Project would be a fascinating experience." He paused, rubbing his temple, "After what we've been through, I understand now."

He stopped as Cadi brought their mugs of beer, "Here you go, boys. You wanted our best local beer; this is La Cumbre South Peak pilsner on tap." She left patting Ronon on the shoulder.

"Rodney," Beckett said, "Apparently, Feynman made quite an impact on you."

Sheppard nodded, "I didn't think you had heroes, you always say you're smarter than all of them."

"I… yes, if I had a hero, he'd be it. Feynman was brilliant; his work on quantum electrodynamics won him the Nobel Prize." McKay's mouth turned up in a faint smile, "He had a wicked sense of humor, used to play pranks on people. He got bored while working on the Manhattan Project and figured out how to pick the padlocks on some of the scientists' file cabinets… left notes inside. Feynman had them all worried that there was a spy among them. Turned out there was a spy and Feynman used to borrow his car to go see his ill wife not realizing the spy was also using the car to transport secrets. One of my professors told me he used to go out into the desert and play drums, dance and chant, starting rumors about a mysterious Indian they called "Injun Joe."

Ronon grinned and lifted his beer, "To Injun Joe."

Echoing Ronon's toast, they tapped their mugs together and drank to Richard Feynman. Sheppard said, "Everyone should have a hero, Rodney; but if you start dancing and chanting, I'm going to claim I don't know you."

"Oh yeah, this from a man whose hero is Evil Knievel."

Sheppard grumbled, "Better than Batman."

Sheppard and McKay debated the merits of Batman until their food was served. They dove into their meals, conversation spotty as they ate.

Ronon took a huge bite of the green-chili burger, and mumbled, "This is good."

Overhearing him, Cadi walked over, "You bet that's a good burger, beat Bobby Flay in a showdown, last year. Can I get you guys another round?"

Everyone nodded, and Ronon asked, "Who is Bobby Flay?"

Cadi looked surprised, "You boys don't know who Bobby Flay is?"

Beckett threw up his hand, "I do, me mum likes him. He's a celebrity chef, but mum likes Gordan Ramsey better."

"Well, honey, I'd take either one of those boys." She grinned, asking Sheppard, "Military right?"

Sheppard laughed, "What gave us away?"

"Been around these parts too long, I know military bearing when I see it, plus you guys never know anything about TV. Enjoy your food and I'll be right back with your beers."

A quizzical look on his face, Ronon asked Beckett, "What's a celebrity chef?"

"They are trained cooks like Sergeant Mackie on… at home. A lot of them have television shows."

Ronon stared blankly at Sheppard, "Teyla was right; you do have some strange customs."

"Can't disagree with that." Sheppard snatched the last onion ring, "Finish up and let's get on the road; that hotel pool is calling me."

~ooOoo~

Cold beer in hand, John Sheppard sank down into the Jacuzzi tub, happy to relax after a very long day. After finishing lunch, they took the interstate back to Las Cruces, and spent a couple of hours at the pool. Now, he had two hours before they left for dinner, and he planned to do absolutely nothing.

Enveloped by the steam rising from the gurgling water, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander. Images of their trip floated through his thoughts, Carson and Rodney drunk; the harden stare of the biker at the roadhouse, Carson's face when Rodney was kidnapped, the rocking of the houseboat, Ronon being shot. Jumble memories of the situations they encountered, and while there were certainly bad things, something good had come from this trip. Despite being resistant to forming relationships, he knew the three men with him were the closest friends he could hope to have. He took a long swig from his beer and let the good memories wash over him.

Getting uncomfortable as the water cooled, Sheppard dragged himself from the tub and took a quick hot shower. He walked into the bedroom and pulled a T-shirt and track pants from his suitcase, slipped them on and sat down on the bed. Looking around the room, he realized something else was happening to him. Listening to the others talk about their families made him think about his own. Well… maybe not Rodney, he never talked much about his family other than Jeannie. Sheppard wondered if he had not needed his brilliant sister's help, whether Rodney would have told them about her.

He got up and grabbed another beer, chilling in the ice bucket, popped the cap and drank a third of the cold brew. As the icy liquid slid down his throat, he picked his wallet up from the dresser and pulled out a well-worn folded square of paper. As he opened it, he wondered if he was doing the right thing, but he took a deep breath and dialed the number written on the paper.

The phone rang three times and Sheppard nearly hung up, but stopped when a soft voice with a lilting Cajun accent answered. He hesitated for a moment, and she repeated hello; in a quiet voice, he said, "Aunt Adelise?"

The gasp she emitted was nearly audible without the phone, her voice quivering as she said, "John… John is that you?" He could hear her rapid breathing as she waited for his reply.

"Yeah, it's me. How are you?"

"How am I? Better than I have been in years now that I hear your voice. Where are you? The last time I spoke with Dave, he told me he hadn't heard from you since you were in Maryland, and had no clue where you were stationed."

He hesitated at hearing Dave's name, "I'm on leave and traveling with some people I work with at the moment."

"Well, that's a first; I don't remember you taking leave very often. Where are you right now?"

"In New Mexico, we rented a car, and we've been wandering through the Southwest."

"That sounds like fun. How are you? I know we didn't have much time to talk at your father's wake; I was worried about you."

"I'm fine. I… uh… had a chat with Dave before I returned to duty and… well, things are better, I guess."

"That's good; I knew things were a bit tense at the beginning. Have you spoken to him while you're on leave?"

"No, I understand he's traveling in Europe. So, how are you and Uncle Don and everyone?"

"Well, fishing in the Gulf hasn't been the greatest since the oil spill, but we're getting by. Don's been really involved in the fishing association's efforts to hold the oil company responsible, so he's been gone a lot."

"I heard about the spill; didn't they just get the well capped?"

"They did, finally, declared it sealed on September 19. That, however, doesn't mean the problems are over; there's a lot of oil left in the Gulf. But enough about us, I want to know more about you. How long is your leave?"

Sheppard bit his lip, getting up the courage to tell her why he called, "Actually we have a couple more weeks. I was thinking, would you mind if we stopped by for a couple of hours… I'd like to see you."

"Alright? What do you think? John, we'd love to see you and your friends. And none of this 'couple of hours' nonsense, you plan on spending a couple of days."

"I don't want to impose… you don't have to put us up; we'll get hotel."

"John Francis Sheppard, no more… you and your friends will stay right here. You know we built a house next door to the homestead. Tristen and Angie live in Pop's old house… they fixed it up; it looks great."

The excitement in her voice was evident and Sheppard felt something he hadn't felt until he arrived on Atlantis, something he felt the summer he spent with his grandfather when he was eighteen. He felt a sense of belonging.

"Okay, we'll stay with you. We're in Las Cruses but will probably leave here tomorrow. Maybe we'll be there by the end of the week?"

"That would be perfect! Don will be home by then, and we will have the biggest cookout. I'm so happy you called."

"Me, too; I'll keep in touch and let you know our timing a bit later in the week."

They said good-bye and Sheppard blew out a deep breath. He was going home.

~ooOoo~

Just past 1930 hours, they walked into the Cattle Baron restaurant, located a few blocks from the hotel on the busy main thoroughfare. All the tables were occupied, and the hostess directed them to the bar, assuring them a table would be available soon.

Sitting at a rustic long table in the bar, Beckett said, "This is a nice place, I love the wooden tree trunks everywhere." He pointed to the polished, stained timbers framing sections of the interior.

Sheppard looked around the understated room with tan stucco walls and soft lighting; wagon-wheel chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the backs of the leather barstools covered with cowhide. "I like this, very pleasant. The desk clerk said it was his favorite place to eat, great steaks and I am in the mood for a big steak."

Ronon grinned, "The bigger the better."

The server brought their beverages and for a moment, they sat quietly, enjoying the atmosphere of the restaurant, chatting about their day. True to her word, the hostess called for them within fifteen minutes, and drinks in hand they headed for their table.

After they placed their order, Ronon and McKay went to the salad bar, as Beckett as Sheppard waited for Caesar's salads. Beckett threw back the last of his scotch then caught Sheppard's eye.

"So… what's up with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Since we got back this afternoon, you've seemed preoccupied with something. Are you worried about Zelenka's call?"

Sheppard bobbed his head slightly indicating no, "Intrigued, concerned, but not worried about what's going on. I do think something is going on but nothing I can do about it at the moment."

"Then what's going on with you?"

"When did you become a psychologist?"

Beckett didn't respond, prompting Sheppard to lean forward, elbows on the table, spinning his scotch glass. For a second, he watched the amber liquid swirl inside the heavy glass. Without looking up, he said, "I told you yesterday, I was thinking about stopping in Louisiana to see my aunt." Beckett remained silent, and Sheppard continued, "I called her after we left the pool, and she said she'd be happy to have us visit."

"That's good, laddie, but should we go with you? Wouldn't you rather see them alone?"

"No." Sheppard realized he'd answered sharply. "Sorry, I suppose… I don't know… I'd just like for you to see where my grandfather lived." He gulped down the last of his scotch.

"He meant a lot to you, didn't he?"

Sheppard stared down at his now empty glass, "He did. When Dave and I were young, our grandfather was always present at the holidays. We even went to Houma one year; I was five, and my grandfather took Dave and me out on one of the fishing boats. I remember telling my mother that I almost like boats as much as planes."

"Almost…" Beckett grinned.

"Yeah… almost." Sheppard caught the eye of their server and indicated they needed another round. "I didn't see my grandfather from Christmas when I was seven until the summer I was eighteen."

"Why?"

"When my mother died my grandfather was on a fishing trip; he didn't get word until the day of the funeral. My aunt and uncle came as soon as they heard, but my grandfather didn't make it until three days later. My dad refused to let him see us."

"John, I'm sorry."

Sheppard looked blankly beyond Beckett, then noticed McKay and Ronon returning from the salad bar. "No more talk about this, okay?"

Beckett nodded and as Ronon sat down, said, "Laddie, did ya leave anything?"

Ronon looked at his plate, piled with various salads and a lot of watermelon, and replied, "Tried not to."

The server brought Sheppard and Beckett's salads, followed up by another round of drinks, and took their dinner order.

Sheppard ate a few bites of salad, then said, "So, uh… I talked with my aunt Adelise this afternoon, and she invited us to spend a couple of days with her. You guys okay with that?"

Ronon swallowed a chunk of watermelon, then said, "Told you it would be good to meet your family."

"I've never been to Louisiana, always wanted to go to New Orleans." McKay said, then asked, "Are the mosquitoes rampant now? I'm allergic to them."

Beckett scoffed, "You're allergic to every bloody thing, or so you say. How do you live, Rodney?"

McKay sputtered, "I am allergic to insect…."

Sheppard interjected, "It is fall, but still humid, so there might be. We'll get mosquito netting and drape it over you."

Beckett snickered, "There's a lime wedge on the table," pointing to Ronon's tequila, "don't get too close."

"Go ahead, have fun at my expense; just wait until I die from a mosquito bite."

They fussed until their entrees arrived and after one taste of the thick, succulent steaks, conversation fell to a minimum, mostly consisting of groans of delight. After a round of coffee and dessert for Beckett and McKay, Sheppard paid the bill.

In the parking lot, Sheppard was opening the Range Rover's door, when he noticed Beckett wasn't with them. "Where's Carson?"

McKay got into the back seat, "Stopped by the restroom, said he'd be right out"

Sheppard and Ronon got into the vehicle, parked across the drive way, facing the street. Ronon patted his stomach, remarking, "That was a good steak."

"Yeah, it was one of the best I've ever tasted." Looking in the side mirror, he saw Beckett exiting the restaurant, "Here he comes."

A flash of light momentarily blinded Sheppard, and he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. When he realized what he was seeing, he went cold, adrenaline flooding his body. A car had careened off the highway over the curb and was heading directly for Beckett.

If asked to describe what happened, Sheppard would only be able to say the sequence of events moved into extreme slow motion in his consciousness. He vaguely remembered yelling Carson's name, and hearing Rodney's anxious shout. He didn't remember getting out of the Rover but did recall hearing a thud as he reached the rear of the vehicle.

The errant car veered off, striking a parked car, horn blaring. Sheppard's heart seized as he saw what appeared to be a lump lying against the restaurant wall, near the door. Running, he glanced over at the car in time to see the driver jump out and run, Ronon on his heels. He was aware of sirens, but his only focus was Beckett.

Dropping to his knees, Sheppard touched Beckett's neck with his fingertips, not breathing until he felt the steady thump of Beckett's pulse. He sensed someone nearby and looking to his left saw McKay, eyes wide, visibly shaking.

"John… is he?"

"He's alive… call 911."

"No… police just pulled in, must have been chasing that car."

Sheppard looked around to see a Las Cruces police officer running toward him, three others racing in the direction Ronon and the driver ran.

"Officer, my friend took off after the driver, they ran that way. He's tall with dreadlocks, don't hurt him."

The officer didn't hesitate, keying his radio, "Suspect fled southbound on foot, three officers and a civilian, tall with dreadlocks ran after him, use extreme caution. I repeat, use extreme caution." He then called dispatch, "Roll rescue to the Cattle Baron restaurant, 790 S Telshor Blvd, auto vs. pedestrian."

Kneeling down next to Sheppard, "What happened sir?"

Sheppard filled him in and as he finished, the officers who ran after Ronon and the driver, returned with the driver in custody, Ronon following.

Ronon ran toward them, "Sheppard?"

"He's alive, but unconscious."

Sirens reached them, and a red and white Las Cruces Fire Rescue ambulance pulled into the parking lot. Two paramedics hopped out the back, unloaded a gurney, and headed toward Beckett.

Ronon grabbed McKay and pulled him away as Sheppard stood up, backing up a few steps. The paramedics began triage, securing Beckett's neck as they turned him over, then placing a collar on him and strapping him to a backboard. As the paramedics continued to assess Beckett, the driver asked for information.

"Rodney, give Carson's info to this firefighter, while I talk to the police."

Rodney nodded and Sheppard, along with Ronon, approached the police officers, who were gathered around the suspect. The first officer on the scene motioned for them to approach.

The officer looked up at Ronon, "I'm Sergeant Len Parks. Gotta thank you, I'm not certain we could've caught up with Keeler. Curt here," pointed to one of the officers who ran after the suspect, "said you ran like the wind."

"I was motivated."

"Uh… yeah, apparently. How's your friend."

"Don't know yet, but he's alive. What happened here?"

"Keeler's a chronic offender, mostly petty theft. This time, however, he robbed a convenient store and carjacked a woman who just pulled in, threw her to the pavement and broke her arm." He paused, then asked, "Now, who are you and your friends, noticed the Range Rover has California plates. You just passing through?

Sheppard glanced at the Rover, the doors wide open, smiled slightly, "Not hard to tell which vehicle we were in. I'm Colonel John Sheppard, US Air Force, the others are members of my team, Ronon Dex, Doctor Rodney McKay, and the injured man is Doctor Carson Beckett. We're on leave, traveling through the southwest."

"Doctors Beckett and McKay, both physicians?"

"No, Carson's a physician, McKay's an astrophysicist."

At the mention of astrophysicist, the officer's eyebrow rose, but he didn't comment. "Look, they're loading your friend onto a gurney; they'll be taking him to Memorial, which is just down Telshor. Go ahead and follow the ambulance, but at posted speed. I'll get everyone's statement there."

"Thanks." Sheppard pivoted on his heel, and he and Ronon rejoined McKay. "Rodney?"

"He may have a concussion, but nothing appears to be broken. The paramedics are worried about internal injuries."

The three friends stood silently as Beckett was loaded into the ambulance. Sheppard led them to the Rover, and they pulled out behind the ambulance.

~ooOoo~

Sheppard was alone. Sergeant Parks was interviewing McKay; Ronon wandered off somewhere, and Beckett was in radiology. He closed his eyes shutting out the blinding lights in the treatment room; he despised fluorescent lights. Bright lights reminded him of too many times waking up in the infirmary and of Beckett, who recognized his phobia and always kept the lights over his bed dimmed when he was a patient.

He was queasy, the delicious steak he'd enjoyed two hours before felt like a churning blob of grease in his stomach. Dropping his head into his hands, elbows on his knees, he wondered why it had to be Beckett. How many times had he awakened in the infirmary to hear the doctor's Scottish brogue reassuring him that he'd be fine? Or the times when one of his team or one of Atlantis' crew was injured and Beckett was there, taking care of them all. A crushing pain gripped Sheppard's chest; losing Beckett for the second time was an unbearable thought.

"Here."

Startled, Sheppard looked up to find Ronon standing over him, a cup of coffee in his extended hand. He took the cup, "Thanks."

He took a sip of the strong, hot coffee, then asked, "Where's Rodney, still with the police?"

"The sergeant left; McKay's at the nurses' station demanding to know why Beckett wasn't back yet."

Sheppard stretched out his long legs into the area vacated by the bed, "He's having a CT and an MRI; sometimes MRIs take time."

Ronon sat down next to him, "You, okay?"

"Me?" Sheppard slouched deeper into the chair, "I'm fine."

"I know better, somehow you think this is your fault."

Sheppard's head snapped around, his eyes' dark, "What makes you think that."

"Something Teyla told me… that you always took responsibility for everything regardless of your actual role in whatever happened."

"Those her words?"

"Yeah, more or less."

Sheppard didn't reply right away, too many emotions surging through him. When he did speak, his voice was raspy, "Teyla's usually right, but not this time. This was an accident, a result of unfortunate timing. I couldn't have prevented it. Maybe that's what's really bothering me… I couldn't prevent it."

McKay entered the glass-enclosed treatment room, "These people are idiots, they can't or won't tell me anything."

"Patience Rodney, they'll tell us soon enough."

Ronon stood up and handed a cup of coffee to McKay, "Here, little man; sit down and drink this." Ronon sat on the rolling stool, while McKay took the other chair.

The next twenty minutes passed in near silence as the men waited for Beckett to return. All three jumped to their feet when a radiology tech steered Beckett's bed into the room.

"All done, the doctors are going over the results of the MRI and CT now, so they should be with you shortly." He squared the bed up in the room, and reconnected the monitors. "Just so you know he woke up a couple of times, but fell right back to sleep." He fiddled with some of the tubing," Okay, looks like he's all hooked up again, nurse should be in soon."

Sheppard thanked the tech and joined McKay next to Beckett's bed. "Good news about him regaining consciousness."

"He'd better…" McKay turned to Sheppard, "Why does this keep happening to us?"

Scratching his head, Sheppard replied, "I don't know… this was an accident, nothing more than an accident."

"We have a lot of those."

A mirthless smile crossed Sheppard's face, "That we do."

Both men were startled when Beckett spoke, "Um… where am I?"

McKay grinned, "You're in a hospital, had a run-in with a car."

"O-Okay… don't re-remember."

"Better you don't, Carson. Don't try to talk, just rest." Sheppard glanced over at Ronon to find the big man rubbing his eyes. He knew exactly how Ronon felt.

A few minutes later, the doctor arrived. "Gentlemen, I'm Doctor Regas. I understand you are on leave at the moment; heck of a thing to happen while on leave." He walked over to Beckett, who grunted a hello. "Nice to see you awake, Doctor, and I have good news. Your injuries are minor; you were very lucky."

He turned to Sheppard, "Rescue informed me you are a colonel in the Air Force, and your companions are members of your team." Sheppard answered yes, and the doctor asked, "So, no next of kin available?"

"No sir, his mother lives in Scotland, and we'd rather not upset her with this, better he tells her. As his CO, I can authorize any treatment."

"Well, the good news is there is very little treatment to do. Doctor Beckett was very lucky. Fortunately, he received a glancing blow from the car. He has a badly bruised left hip and thigh; knee ligaments slightly stretched, but radiology didn't show any internal injuries or broken bones. The mild concussion likely occurred when he hit the restaurant wall. There's a minor abrasion on his cheek, and it looks like he's developing a nice black eye, but the prognosis is good. Rest, some over the counter pain meds, and he should recover quickly. I do want to keep him over night, just to be safe. If all looks well tomorrow morning I'll discharge him."

"That's good, Doctor, thank you."

"One request, I know you are traveling, but I would prefer if he rested at least another day after he's released before you travel."

"Not a problem; we'll stay here as long as necessary."

"Good… the nurse should be in shortly; I believe they have a bed ready for him in TCU."

After the doctor departed, Sheppard turned to McKay and Ronon. "It's getting late, you two go back to the hotel and get some rest; I'll stay here. Tomorrow morning bring Carson a change of clothes." He grabbed the plastic bag with belongings and fished out his hotel key card, handing it to McKay. Ronon and McKay didn't move.

Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck, "Don't make me have to order you. Go… I'll stay with Carson."

Ronon crossed his arms, "Sheppard…"

"Please, take McKay and go back to the hotel."

The steely glare on Sheppard's face conveyed only one meaning to Ronon, don't argue. "Okay… come on McKay." He grabbed McKay by the shirtsleeve and hustled him out the door.

Beckett was moved to the Transitional Care Unit about thirty minutes after Ronon and McKay left. It was midnight before the nurses had him settled and left them alone. Sheppard sat down in the recliner next to the window and stared out into the dark night.

Unsettled was the only way to describe his mood. He knew most of his unease was due to Beckett's injury, but he also knew that making the decision to see his aunt, along with whatever was happening on Atlantis certainly was affecting him.

He had cultivated compartmentalizing his emotions to an art, never opening himself to anyone, other than his grandfather, since his mother died. He scoffed, muttering to himself, 'You did try once." He'd tried with Nancy, but that part of his life could only be classified a disaster. He should have known to stay away from anyone his father introduced to him. She thought she could turn him into another Patrick Sheppard; when she realized she couldn't, she also realized she wanted no part of being married to the military. It wasn't her fault; she was a good person, but he had no intention of becoming his father or his brother.

A soft moan from Beckett brought Sheppard to his feet. Leaning over the bed rail, he whispered, "Carson, you're awake?"

"Ummm… yeah…. thirsty…"

Sheppard poured water into a Styrofoam cup and help him sit up to take a sip. "How do you feel?"

"A little shaky, and my head hurts. What happened?"

"Police were chasing a robber and carjacker; the punk lost control of the vehicle as he approached the restaurant. He jumped the curb, and you were in the way. Doctor said you suffered a glancing blow from the car, but hit your head on the restaurant wall."

"Don't remember… I remember leaving the bathroom and going outside, then nothing. What are my injuries?"

"Mild concussion, abrasion on your cheek and a black eye. Your left hip and thigh are bruised and the ligaments in your left knee somewhat stretched. No broken bones or internal injuries."

"Lucky…"

"Very lucky… now go back to sleep, the doctor said if you rested and looked good tomorrow, he'll discharge you in the morning."

"Aye… laddie… very tired…" Becket drifted off to sleep.

Sheppard sat down, reclining the chair until he was nearly prone. As he listened to Beckett's even breathing, he drifted off to sleep. Throughout the night, he awoke each time the nursing staff entered the room to check on Beckett. Too many years of combat readiness brought him instantly awake from even a deep sleep.

Waking with a start, he expected to see the nurse again, instead found Rodney standing near the foot of the bed, looking disheveled. Glancing at his watch, he asked, "McKay, its 0530, what are you doing here?"

"Ronon woke me up thirty minutes ago and insisted we come. Here are Carson's clothes." McKay dropped a plastic bag onto the end of the tray table and glanced at Beckett, "How is he?"

"Good, vitals are stable; he slept most of the night, woke up a couple of times, and we talked. He doesn't remember a thing after exiting the restaurant. He peered around McKay, "Where's Ronon?"

"Stopped by the coffee shop," he paused, "You okay?"

Sheppard stood up, stretching, "Keep your voice down. Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

Ronon walked in with coffee and a bag of doughnuts, answering Sheppard's question. "Because it's usually you lying the bed injured, while we wait for you to get better. McKay thinks the fact you're okay and Beckett's hurt is messing with your mind."

McKay was glaring at Ronon as Sheppard grabbed a coffee cup and dug through the bag, finding a cinnamon doughnut. He took a bite, a sip of coffee and then replied, "I have to admit it feels pretty weird; Carson's supposed to be taking care of us, not the other way around."

Sheppard looked at McKay, "I'm fine. The important thing now is to take care of Carson."

"I'm fine, too, just have a wee headache, and I'm hungry, got another doughnut?"

McKay reacted first to the weak voice coming from the bed, "Carson, you okay?"

"I told you, I'm fine, stop worrying about me."

Ronon chuckled, "Sounds like you, Sheppard."

Sheppard compressed his lips in a mock frown, "Watch it, Chewie." Ronon grinned, as he handed Beckett a doughnut.

McKay asked, "So what's the plan? When does he get out of here?"

"The ER doc said if he was stable, and if he felt good this morning, he would release him this morning. Hopefully, that will happen."

The hospitalist released Beckett at noon, and they arrived at the Encanto by 1300 hours. Ronon accompanied Beckett to his suite, while Sheppard headed to his room to take a shower, and McKay picked up lunch from the hotel.

When Sheppard arrived at Beckett's room, he found the doctor stretched out on the couch, McKay and Ronon sitting at the small table eating lunch. Sheppard grabbed a beef burrito and sat down in an arm chair. He asked Beckett, "Feeling better?"

"Aye, felt good to get a shower, although I didn't need mother hen over there making certain I didn't fall."

Sheppard smiled at Ronon, "Good man."

Beckett said, "John, I'm sorry to slow down your plans to get to your aunt's."

"No problems, Houma's only fifteen hours from here and I told her I'd let her know when we'd be arriving. She's not expecting us until late in the week. I'll call her when we leave here and let her know."

McKay asked, "So we'll drive straight through?"

"No, if we leave day-after tomorrow, which will be Tuesday… we can stop a couple of times if we want and still get to Houma by Friday or Saturday. We'll stay in Houma for a couple of days and decide where to go from there for the rest of our leave."

McKay, his eyes bright, asked, "Then we go home?"

Sheppard nodded, "Then we go home."

Rodney smiled.

---

Off to Houma! Hope you enjoyed…. Would love to hear from you.

As I try to do, all the hotels, restaurants, and attractions are real (I really want to stay at the Encanto). The excerpt from the essay by Ralph Carlisle Smith and most of the information regarding the site and its history can be found online on the White Sands Army Missile Range site. There is a change regarding the Trinity Site… due to budget issues, the site is only open one day per year now, instead of two.

I promise I will finish this story as soon as I can… and I promise to tie up all the loose ends, and maybe we'll even find out what the mystery is on Atlantis.

Thanks for taking the trip with me so far…. I really appreciate it!