He is restarting his playlist when Lorne walks into his office and immediately helps himself to half of John's paperwork.
"Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you, Major?" John asks shaking out his cramping hand.
Lorne grins at him, eyes filled with mirth, "No not lately, sir."
"Well, I do," picking one of the forms, he waved it at him, "Have you heard about this crap? Captain Ackerman is citing discrimination because the baseball clubs equipment came on the last supply run but not the cricket teams. He thinks I purposely lost his requisition form."
"Well, you did have an hour long argument about which sport was superior," Lorne points out.
"Discussion," John corrects, "we had an intellectual discussion in which we both had different opinions."
"Which," Lorne counters dryly, "resulted in both the cricket and baseball clubs in the brig. It was almost as bad as the Football/Soccer Incident."
John gives an exaggerated shudder, "Don't remind me."
They pour through dozens of forms and even with the Major's help, it takes another two hours. He signs the last one and stretched, cringing as his back cracked.
He is starting to feel old.
Lorne hums along quietly to the music and relaxes in his chair. John leans back in his chair, puts feet up on the desk and closes his eyes as he waited for Lorne to speak his mind.
He'd speak when he was ready.
As the only two Air Force officers in a sea of Marines and civilians they had to stick together. As the military XO Lorne tended to be the one everyone went to because as much as his people respected him, John was still their CO. They trusted him with their lives but there were always things that you would never go to your CO for.
Lorne was the in between; dealing with any problem before it reaches John's ears, in which case mediation went out the window and John would have to official discipline the offenders.
John was well aware that as friendly as he was with every one, he was only close to his team. Command was a lonely position and he was lucky to have the few confidants he did have.
And having Lorne as his XO was a godsend. No one could ever replace Ford and John's man enough to admit he resented Landry for sending Lorne, but as reliable as Aiden was, he didn't have the experience that Lorne has.
Their start had been rocky and he really hadn't been fair to the man but once he'd been able to stop him self from looking for Ford in every meeting, things had gotten easier.
He relies on Lorne to see the things he can't and to always speak his mind.
Whether or not he wants to hear it.
"Jameson tells me they've been having a hard time getting Connor out the shower."
"What?" John opens his eyes and gives him an incredulous look.
Lorne shrugs, "Apparently he really likes to take showers."
"I…see."
"I spoke to him yesterday and this morning. He's eating well so I don't think the docs' going to have to worry about his weight anymore. He doesn't seem inclined to making any friends however."
"From what I hear, he likes you," John takes the rubber ball from his desk and throws it at the wall, catching it on the rebound.
"I'm a likeable guy," Lorne smirks.
John throws the ball at his head, frowning when the other man catches it.
"Have you spoken to him yet?" Lorne tosses the ball back.
"No, not yet," and wait for it….
"Do you plan to?"
The thing about Lorne was that he had a way of talking to you that made you think he wasn't judging you when he totally was.
They continued to toss the ball back and forth.
"I don't know what to say to him," he finally admits after a moment of silence.
Lorne frowns, "I get the feeling from him that he doesn't remember you. He seems to recognize our flags. I've seen him studying our patches but he doesn't seem interested in asking any questions."
"Well… we've never actually met," Ignoring his second-in-command's dubious look he continues, "I'd like to wait until Heightmeyer speaks to him and the SGC should be getting back to me soon. They are going to test the results from Connor's missing case with the sample we sent them."
"What are the chances that he's not your nephew and this is all one hell of a coincidence?" Lorne asks, even though he doubts it. If the Atlantis' computers say Connor and the Colonel are related, then they are.
John doesn't even bother to answer him.
"I'm concern about his state of mind. I mean you don't just wake up one day and do the things he can do. If he's not using technology, then someone had to have done it to him. Did whatever it was they did and then left him in another galaxy where he ends up fighting things that, from what I saw, are a hell of a lot stronger that the Wraith."
Lorne nods, "Maybe Heightmeyer will be able to get him to open up about what happened to him."
"That's the plan."
"Well, I hope part of your plan involves not stalking him," Lorne dryly remarks.
John glares at him. Why does everyone think he's stalking the kid?
Before he can retort his comm goes off.
"Sheppard….what? I'll be right there," John stands abruptly, grabbing his laptop.
Lorne straightens at his furious look, "What happened."
"Looks like I won't be waiting on Kate anymore."
Elizabeth steadily avoids Sheppard's icy look as he storms into her office, laptop in hand.
After Connor had gotten over his initial surprise, he'd let her know just how impossible that was and how unlikely he was to fall for her lies.
Connor had been protesting loud enough that she had to send his escorts away when they came rushing in guns ready. Sending for John had been her best option.
It was either that or shoot him with the zat'nik'tel she keeps in her desk.
Connor paces her office like an angry tiger. Nothing like the awkward, petulant young man he was a mere ten minutes before, so despite how angry she knows John is with her in this moment, she is glad he's there.
The Colonel shifts his gaze from her to the reason he was there and Elizabeth is relieved to see his angry demeanor shift into something looser, which always means that he was aware of nearby danger.
Because it meant she was justified in breaking out in a cold sweat once she realized she had stupidly sent the marines away and she was left alone in a small room with someone that she had virtually zero chances of actually aiming at and hitting.
So yes, she is happy that John was there.
Once Connor realizes John was in the room and blocking the door he settles against the side of her office that wasn't glass and watches them both.
John tosses her another look that she takes to mean 'stay out of this'.
"Connor, I hear that there are some questions you need clearing up," John slouches and makes his way out of the path of the exit and closer to her desk.
Something flashes behind the younger Sheppard's eyes and he crouches, shaking his head in denial, "I don't have any questions. That's me, question-less."
"I think we both know that's not true," John mutters and slowly makes his way closer to the other man.
Connor stills completely and doesn't reply.
Elizabeth's hand tightens around the zat' so hard that she imagines the etchings are imprinted into her palm.
"What has Doctor Weir told you?" John asks, crouching in front him setting up the laptop and Elizabeth cannot remember a time she's heard John sound so gentle.
"She said that-that you got a message from your brother?" What should have been a statement ends in a question.
"She told you the truth. My brother, David, informed me that his son had gone missing. His son named Connor."
Connor squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his temples, grimacing in pain.
"I don't-I don't believe you." Connor mutters but Elizabeth gets the feeling that it's least that he doesn't believe and more that he does want to.
"I can prove it to you. I'll play the video for you, if that's all right."
Connor opens his eyes and stares at him for a long moment before giving a hesitant nod.
John studies him with tired eyes then pressed play.
"Hello, John. I hope this message reaches you in good health,"
Elizabeth silently watches the emotions play across his face as he watches the video. There is surprise and grief but what surprises her is the guilt as he reaches out to touch the screen.
"Dad?"
Tears silently fall down Connor's face and John looks as though he'd rather be anywhere than in this room right now.
By the end out the video, Connor looks washed out.
"Connor…" John starts as Connor seemed determined to scrub any signs of tears away but Connor just shakes his head and stands.
"I think-I think I'll just go back to my room," he croaks and walks out. John reluctantly lets him go with a nod at the guards and once the door closes, John throws her a nasty look.
"Dammit, Elizabeth. I said I'd handle it."
She straightens and glares right back, "I have a duty to protect Atlantis. That means that sometimes I have to ask the hard questions. Don't you think it's odd that your nephew ended up in this galaxy and somehow, out of the hundreds of planets out there, we managed to find him? Would you rather wait until it's too late to find out this was some kind of ploy?"
"I'd rather," John snarls, "have waited until Heightmeyer spoke to him."
Connor is distantly aware that he's in shock. There are no windows in his room and Atlantis has climate control but instead of feeling comfortably warm, Connor feels like he is shaking apart. His thoughts flickers wildly back forth from the years and years he's spent fighting and running and killing, (and he knows its been years, dammit, and he's made peace with the fact that he will never ever grow a beard) and what Colonel Sheppard just told him.
A year? That's it?
It makes no sense. Growing up in Quor'toth, he knows how drastic the time difference between Earth and hell dimensions can be, but there was no way with all the places he has been and the time he spent on each one, that it's only been a year. For the Power's sake, he's been on Olaf for months. Everything he's done and he ended up right were he begun.
He was home. Or as close to it as he's been in a really long time.
Going after the Partners… It wasn't something he could do while thinking about all he'd left behind.
No distractions.
He'd only wanted to put it at the back of his mind but he'd honest to God forgotten. How could he forget?
Holtz and Angel weren't the only fathers he had.
It suddenly makes sense why Colonel Sheppard has been obsessively following him. Maybe he should call him Uncle John. Connor shakes his head and covers his mouth before his hysterical giggles could escape. He's ended up in another galaxy and was found by the uncle he didn't know, who technically wasn't his uncle at all.
He hadn't even questioned why he'd introduced himself as Connor Sheppard.
His head hurts. Everything he'd suppressed was suddenly there again and he has no idea what to do about it.
He paces the length of his room as the image of his mother watches him with a smug look and tries to ground himself.
He hadn't believed her when she told him. After all she was just a figment of his imagination…something to stop him from completely losing himself. He hadn't believed Weir either, not at first. Not until the Colonel had shown him the video of his dad and god that video.
Chewing his bottom lip, he shoved his hands in his pocket, cringes and pulled out his left hand. He stares at the scalpel in his hand uncomprehending for a moment before remembering stealing from the Infirmary before he'd been released.
The world snaps back into focus and Connor knew what he has to do…what he should have done when first woke in Atlantis.
He presses the blade to his right arm and Darla gasps, "Don't."
Connor ignores her and cuts deep, dragging the blade from elbow to wrist and ignoring the sharp pain that came after. He waited expectedly with his bleeding arm extended and fingers curled to claw at the air and rip open a portal. When nothing happens, Connor snarls, angry and maybe just a tad desperate and drags the scalpel down his arm again and again and claws at the air.
Connor can feel the magic starting to build and red sparks flashes to life in front of him and it has never been this hard to open a portal when Darla suddenly snaps "no" and an ear piercing alarm starts to shrill.
He flinches back and the door to his room slides open and Connor is suddenly face to face with his startled looking guards.
They stare at each other in shock before one of them inches into the room with a hand-raised placate while the other keys his comm.
"I'm sorry, but this has to end," Darla mummers to him while the first guard asks him to put down the knife and assures him they'll get help.
He can only imagine what they're thinking as the look at him right now—standing there with a scalpel in one hand and an arm covered in blood.
Darla stands to the side looking exhausted and for the first time Connor comes to the notion that maybe she is actually there because why else would his door open and alarms start blaring at the exact moment he tried to leave.
"It's time to stop running kid."
She'd stop him from leaving.