One Year Ago...

John POV

The helicopter blades and the sound of the wind dwarfed almost all sound, and the headphones we each wore dulled out anything else it was possible to hear inside the chopper. Only way we could hear anything at all was the crackly and distorted radio between headsets and the upcoming base. Still, it was arguably better flying out here, compared to Afghanistan, at least nobody was shooting at us. The General I was transporting looked over at me, speaking into the little black fuzzy bud at the end of his microphone to ask a question.

"Apache, Blackhawk, Cobra, Osprey," I answered, listing everything I'd studied at flight school. I kept my eyes on the barren, white landscape surrounding us as I held the yoke, keeping us headed directly for the base.

"That's a lot of training for the Antarctic," General O'Neill commented.

"It was the one continent I'd never set foot on," I told him with a relaxed shrug. While it was true, it was an awful lot of training, I had taken everything in flight school very seriously. Flying at two hundred miles an hour up here in the sky, regardless of location, it made me feel alive.

"It's one of my least favourite continents," he replied, a hint of bitterness in his voice. I felt the corner of my mouth turn upwards in a lopsided smile as I turned and leaned over.

"I kind of like it here," I admitted. He turned to me, affronted I could even say such a thing, which only made my grin wider.

"You like it here?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes, sir," I said. "Be there in about ten minutes, sir."

There was a brief silence as I turned and headed for the base we were closing in on. I didn't mind flying around the General, he was silent when the occasion called for it, never filled the chopper with unnecessary hot air. When there was idle chatter, he was easy to talk to. And so it was quiet, save for the whirring of the blades above us, wind rushing by, and the gentle hum of the engine. Until of course, we received a transmission over the radio.

"All inbound craft, we have a rogue drone that could seek a target on its own, land immediately and shut down your engines. This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not.."

So much for no one shooting at us. Spotting the drone coming straight for us up ahead, I moved immediately into action. "It's too late, hang on," I said. Reflexes kicking in, I applied evasive manoeuvres. Flying in a zig zag trying to throw off the drone.

"Break right," said O'Neill. Not intentionally ignoring his orders, I moved the chopper left. "I said, right!"

"I'm getting to that, sir," I said. Moving us right, I took her down closer to the ground, hoping to land this thing while still avoiding the drone. "I can't see it."

"Pull up, pull up," O'Neill ordered. I kept heading down as I searched for the drone. I heard it behind us. "What about now?"

"Now's good," I confirmed, pulling us back up with the yoke. Hoping I'd successfully crashed the drone into the snow, I was free to land the chopper and cool the engine.

"Shut it down," O'Neill barked and I started turning things off overhead. Once we were good I inwardly sighed, allowing my body to relax.

"Sir, what the hell was that?" I asked, turning to him. This was not your usual day in the Antarctic.

"Wait for it," he told me. Hearing a crash in the snow and then seeing the drone head right for us I unclipped my seatbelt.

"Get out!" I cried, throwing open the door.

Diving face first into the snow and hearing O'Neill stumbling out after me on the other side, I heard the drone soaring through the air at breakneck speed and then slow to a bouncing stop on the snow, sliding forward, just shy of the chopper on O'Neill's side. I took a moment to breathe before getting up and walking back over to the chopper, covered in fresh powder. I climbed back in beside the General, looking out onto the horizon, expecting more of them to follow.

"That was different," I commented, struggling to find words. Not only were people shooting at us, it was strange, alien looking drones, not bullets.

"For me," he replied. "Not so much."

"I'm gonna radio control back," I said after a moment of gathering my bearings. O'Neill nodded.

Thankfully, we made it the remaining 7 minutes of flight time without incident. Bringing her down safely at the landing site, I exited the powered down chopper with the General and headed inside the arctic base. We took the long elevator down into the ice and once we reached the end of the line people were hustling and bustling around right outside the cage. One crew member in particular was making a beeline straight for us.

"Jack," the man greeted the General fondly.

"Daniel," he responded. "Warm welcome."

"It wasn't me," Daniel immediately replied. "How'd you manage to.."

"Keep my ass from getting blown out of the sky?" he asked, pausing in his steps to turn back. "The exceptional flying of Major John Sheppard. He likes it here."

"You like it here?" Daniel turned to me in surprise.

"Let's say we cut to the part where you start walking, real fast," O'Neill directed and Daniel switched into business mode.

"Ah, Weir's in here," Daniel replied and headed forward faster. Meanwhile I was looking around at everything that was happening around me, a few steps behind them. The General turned back to me again.

"Hey, don't touch anything," he ordered and I felt a combination of amused and curious. While he had just treated me like a naughty school child, I was also in a phase of deep wonderment. What other cool things could this place do, if you could consider getting shot at by a test drone of unknown origin cool.

"Yes, sir," I replied and went back to looking around.

Heading out of the way from the main traffic areas for a quieter area of the base, I followed what looked interesting. In the distance I could hear a Scottish accent talking about some power he'd never had before. Chuckling internally to myself, I wondered if he'd been the one to fire the drone at us, 'nah'.

"Well they were lucky, I just tried to concentrate and the drone shut itself down," he said.

'Never mind,' I thought.

"So you were the one." I said.

"Me?" he replied, sounding nervous.

"You're the one who fired that thing at me," I said, marching closer.

"Look, we're doing research. Working with technology that's lightyears beyond us, and we make mistakes. I'm incredibly, incredibly sorry…" He looked it.

"Well, next time, just be a little more careful, okay?" I replied, accepting his apology. He seemed to genuinely mean it.

"That's what I said," he confirmed.

"What the hell was that thing anyway?" I asked.

"You mean the drone?" he asked me. I nodded. "The weapon the Ancients built to defend this outpost."

"The who?" I asked.

"You do have security clearance to be here?" he asked, looking worried.

"Yeah, yeah, General O'Neill just gave it to me," I brushed off.

"Oh, then you don't even know about the Stargate," he said.

"The what?" I asked, looking at him like he was talking nonsense. Which he was. He sighed and moved over to the chair, starting to fill me in on everything. The gates, the chair, the drone thing that tried to kill us.

"We think the gene was used as a sort of genetic key, if you will, so that only their kind could operate certain dangerous or powerful technologies," Beckett - as he'd introduced himself as - finished explaining.

"So some people have the same genes as these Ancients?" I asked. Walking around the chair, to get a better look.

"The specific gene is very rare," he explained. "But on the whole, they look very much like we do. In fact they were first. We're the second evolution of this form. The Ancients having explored this Galaxy for millions of years... Major please don't." He said as I moved to sit in the chair.

"Come on, what are the odds of me having the same genes?" I asked, sitting down anyway. Immediately as I sat down, the chair reclined like a lazyboy and the ground started to glow around me. There was a slight hum as the chair powered up. 'You had to ask, didn't you, John?'

"Quite slim, actually," Beckett said, looking shocked. "Dr. Weir! Don't move." He told me, running away. Moments later a group of people, including General O'Neill came running over to me.

"Who is this?" asked a woman.

"I said don't touch anything," O'Neill said, not sounding particularly surprised.

"I, I just sat down," I defended.

"Major," a different guy started talking. "Think about where we are in the solar system."

I concentrated on that and the floor glowed brighter and an image of the solar system appeared above us.

"Did I do that?" I asked, staring up at it. I felt like Steve Urkel.

A while later, a few more tasks given to me by the man in orange, and I was up and out of the chair. The group of people went off to have discussions on their own but the woman in red - Dr. Weir as she'd introduced herself - asked me to come on some expedition with them. I politely turned her down and decided to wait out the rest of the General's visit above ground. The General eventually made his way back to me and we got into the chopper, but the silence had gone from easy, to the exact opposite. I was uncomfortable, so I threw myself into my work. Completing the safety checks and start up procedures with more caution and concentration than they really required.

"This isn't a long trip, so I'll be as succinct as possible." O'Neill said. He then stared at me for a moment, waiting for me to respond.

"Well, that's pretty succinct," I replied dryly.

"Thank you," he returned, maintaining the energy of the conversation.

"I told Dr. Weir that I'd think about it," I told him realising that I wasn't going to get out of this conversation that easily.

"And?" he asked, putting on his space age sunglasses. "So? Well? What?"

I shrugged. "With all due respect, sir, we were just attacked by an alien missile. Then I found out I have some mutant gene. Then there's this stargate thing and these expeditions to other galaxies."

"You know, this isn't about you, Sheppard," O'Neill told me. "It's a lot bigger than that."

"Right now, at this very second, whether I decide to go on this mission or not seems to be about me," I answered, putting on my helmet.

"Let me ask you something," the General said. He pulled on his earmuffs and mic. "Why'd you become a pilot?"

"I think people who don't want to fly are crazy," I told him honestly.

"And I think people who don't want to go through the stargate are equally as whacked. Now if you can't give me a yes by the time we reach McMurdo, I don't even want you."

That was the last of the conversation I got from the General before we reached the next stop and I bounced what he said around in my head. I thought about the first time I was ever in a plane, able to take stick and fly. What it felt like, the queasiness first going away as I was in control, the force, the speed the Gs. And from that moment, I knew I'd made all the right calls, that walking away from my dad and brother, it was worth it, it was all right. I loved flying. And if O'Neill loved walking through this supposed stargate that much, then maybe he was right. It's not exactly like I had much tying me here anyway. I radioed McMurdo control, letting them know who we were and that we were coming in. I landed us and started shutting down the chopper. Nodding to myself, I knew I'd made the right call. I turned to him before either of us got out of the chopper.

"General?" I said.

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"Atta boy."

His excitement didn't last long however, as a marine ran right over to the door and opened it for him. He looked winded but incredibly concerned, worried even. I wondered if it was another one of those alien missiles we'd just dealt with. From what I'd heard - hell, from what I'd seen - it wouldn't be surprising.

"Sir," the marine said. "We just got a call in, it's pretty urgent. It's your daughter."

"What about her?" O'Neill asked.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, sir," I said.

"I try to keep my private life and work life separate. She spent a lot of her childhood with her mother, as I was always off on ops," he explained quickly. "Now, what kind of trouble has she gotten herself into this time?" He was smiling, he didn't seem all that concerned compared to the marine in front of him. In fact, he seemed even proud, like whatever mischief she was causing made him happy. If only my father could be so happy, hell, if only we were still on speaking terms.

"That's just it sir, it's big trouble," the marine said. "You'd better come inside, her CO is on the line waiting."

"Alright," he nodded, getting himself out of the chopper and heading into McMurdo. I wondered just what kind of trouble it was she'd gotten herself into, and what trouble she usually got herself into.

Present Day...

Jack POV

It wasn't easy, laying down my pride for a man this much my junior. Course I'd pulled strings, cashed in favours, made special arrangements before - nothing was too much for my darling girl - Sheppard was a little different. He was a good man, and he wouldn't mind me asking, so that made it easier, but it was still a hard thing to ask for.

"So it's Lieutenant Colonel now, I hear," I said as I headed into the command room Sheppard had commandeered to conduct his interviews in. He was sitting in a desk chair around a conference table, looking pained as he read over reports and files.

"Hard to believe it myself, General," he replied. He put down one of the files he was reading and gave me his full attention. "What can I do for you? Are you planning on telling me there's something more outrageous than Stargates, mutant genes, and expeditions to other galaxies?"

"No," I chuckled. "This is a matter of more... normalcy."

"Well that's good," he replied. I approached his chair further, hoping that he'd do as asked, no question. I didn't often pull rank, not seriously, but I was hoping I wouldn't have to. Not really he'd just offer me this one as a favour.

"If it's not too much, I'd like you to take a look at another file for potential candidates," I told him. Holding out the manila folder, he took it instantly. "Pay no attention to the, uh record, I can give you my personal assurance this candidate won't give you any trouble." Sheppard opened the folder and skim read the file, he paused at the very top, moving his hand to hover over the photo. He looked a little surprised at her smiling face.

"Captain Evelyn O'Neill." he said. "This isn't the daughter of yours, who likes to get herself into trouble, is it?"

"It is," I confirmed. "I wouldn't worry, it's harmless trouble. The only real trouble she gets herself into is saving lives."

"I wouldn't call saving lives trouble," he replied, looking impressed as he skim read, still fingering the photo.

"No, you wouldn't. But as you probably well know, saving people from trouble usually lands you in it."

"That it does," he smiled with a nod. "So what? You want her off-world so she won't get into so much trouble with her COs? The kind of danger she might be in out there, the Wraith…"

"That would be a comfort to me, yes, but it's another reason I'd like you to take her back to Atlantis with you. It's no picnic off world, I know, but she needs this."

"Oh?"

"That call I got, in McMurdo, her Blackhawk got shot down while she was assisting in a theatre evac," I explained, throat tightening just a little. "She was off duty at the time, and she wouldn't have even been in that seat if her lieutenant hadn't been the one needing an airlift. Ironically, he's fine."

"And she's not?" Sheppard asked. My throat tightened.

Feeling my bones begin to ache and the muscles begin to numb, blending into the plastic chair I was sitting in beside her bed, I realised being promoted was probably a good thing. I was getting too old. And despite my age, she still tried to beat me to the grave. Parents shouldn't outlive their children, it isn't natural. And I'd already done it once, for the life of me, I wouldn't do it again.

The constant beeping and whirring of the machines around us did nothing to ease my discomfort as I watched on with tired eyes. I refused to take my eyes off her for even a second, no matter how much sleep threatened to take me. No matter what happened, I would be here with her. I would hear every breath, see every muscle twitch, and every rise and fall of her chest. I was glad I had been able to have her transported to SGC, pulling rank to a place where we had the technology that could aid in her recovery. Where it would. This was much better. She'd been stabilised at the nearest military base, flown with the other injured to American soil and then once she'd had her surgery she was brought here. I'd have preferred it if she'd been brought straight here from being stabilised, but, being a General isn't everything, there's still protocol even I can't fight. I wondered if we'd've been able to do better. We could have fixed her better, faster. More. She'd needed more, I'd failed her, failed to give it to her. She'd needed me and I'd gotten lucky I hadn't lost her all together.

I watched the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, glad she was off the vent now and was using a nasal cannula to supply oxygen. Her breathing was steady, that was good. I just wished she'd wake up. I knew it would take time, but how much, I didn't know. I was so deep in thought I almost missed the slight fluttering of her eyelids. The wince and following grimace as she was hit with the harsh fluorescence of the lights.

"Hang on a minute sweetheart," I told her and got up to dim the lights. Her brow furrowed as she heard me talking for a moment but then she seemed to relax.

"Dad," she croaked. "What are…"

"In a minute," I told her and pressed the call button for a nurse. I walked back over to her, standing at her side instead of sitting. I reached down to wipe some of the dirty blonde hair she'd gotten from her mother, off her face, her forehead sweaty from the fever she'd been fighting before she woke up. Her head was cooler now at least, meaning that she'd beaten the infection."You gave me quite the scare."

"I'm sorry," she said, chocolate brown eyes shining with fresh tears, threatening to fall. She looked up at me properly, now the lights were dimmed and she could focus. You'd think I'd be used to seeing my own eyes staring back at me, but no, I could never get used to seeing her in so much pain. Not when they looked this sad. All I wanted was to take her pain away. My sweet girl. She took my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's alright, sweetheart," I soothed and smoothed her hair away from her face again, it never did sit where it was supposed to. She looked like she was on the verge of letting loose fresh tears and that's when I realised, I was too.

"It's not," she shook her head.

"This wasn't your fault, pumpkin," I told her. "These things happen sometimes."

"But after Charlie," she said and my heart clenched unbearably tight. Of course she was thinking about that right now.

"Another accident," I told her. "You can't control everything, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you want to. You said that to me, remember? So get better, do as your quacks say and try not to scare me like this ever again."

She nodded, blinking tears away when the nurse, and a doctor I didn't recognise came in.

"No," I said, regaining myself. "She's not."