Chapter 36: Father, Son
Christmas had been… eventful.
Since then, Alex had hardly looked in his direction, which… to be fair, was probably for the best.
John wasn't entirely sure what was expected of him just because he happened to be genetically related to someone. That he had a kid.
Thankfully, Rodney had kept all the parentage and Kirk and woe-begotten offspring comments to himself once it became clear that John had absolutely zero idea how it had happened. That there was no way he could have just… lost an entire year of his life.
He had been at Stanford.
That wasn't a dream.
He had a degree to prove it.
Had the pages of handwritten proofs locked up in a safe deposit box back in Colorado Springs. He hadn't imagined getting his degree in Applied Mathematics.
That apparently was all a lie and all he had to show for it was the stupid tattoo that he didn't even remember getting. Or why he had chosen that particular motif and phrasing.
It had seemed suiting after getting Ian's death notification – the CIA had stolen him from his family and placed him out of contact for years, so it was just John's reminder to never deal with the CIA. Years later, the few who saw it assumed it referenced his fallen comrades.
And maybe all those meanings were relevant, but… Why then?
He traced over the letters once again.
Never Forgive or Forget
Forgive or forget what?
It was like a logic puzzle inked into his own skin. Something he had brushed off as the result of a night with too much alcohol.
There was a brief knock at his door and John hastily yanked the wristband back down. If it really was related to SCORPIA, it certainly wasn't something he wanted to go around advertising.
Rodney didn't even wait for John to wave the door open, poking insistently at the opening mechanism, while simultaneously keeping his nose buried in his datapad.
"Nice to see you too, Rodney," Sheppard drawled and tried to pretend that he hadn't just been musing on his previous self's actions.
Rodney waved the door shut with nary a glance, then shoved the pad in front of John's nose. "What does that look like to you?"
John pulled back, until the fuzzy black words turned into something comprehensible. Mathematical proofs that were oh so familiar from his Master's days. It took a moment to puzzle through. "Einstein field equations?"
Rodney just swiped to another image, this one less blurry than the last. "And this?"
"Dreibein Formalism." John gave Rodney an exasperated look. "Is there a reason you're showing me work from my Master's thesis?" Work he well knew had advanced significantly in the past fifteen years. He might not be subscribed to JAMS, but he managed to stay at least somewhat informed about the topics that somewhat interested him.
Rodney just frowned, before pulling his datapad back. "Well, you're certainly not faking that." He sat down heavily in the chair on the other side of the desk. "It's just… You couldn't be in two places at one time…"
John raised a careful eyebrow, before glancing around the corners of his office. It wasn't that he thought anyone was really bugging his office, but…
Rodney waved away the concerns. "Turned on the jammer before I came in." He turned back to his datapad, swiping through several more things that looked like further images and equations. "You can't fake brains like that, anyway."
"Gee thanks, Rodney." John settled back in his chair, feeling a little more at ease. Even Rodney had been treating him strangely since the revelation.
That somehow, at least a part of his life has been a lie.
Rodney just fluttered a hand. "Oh, you know what I mean." He chewed on his lip for a moment longer, before looking up at John. "This would be so much easier if we were on earth."
Wasn't that the truth. "I'm sure you'll figure it out, buddy." Or Carter would. Or Jackson. Jackson seemed like the type of person to really sink his teeth into a conundrum of this style.
Hell, he would probably leap at the revelation that this… tattoo somehow linked John to the reality they were all in. No crossed timelines.
It still didn't rule out even more time travel, but John wasn't quite sure how that would even work. But then, no one did, really.
"Carson seems to be settling in to his new reality fairly well," Rodney said, finally putting the datapad to the side.
"It's a nephew. He's got at least half a dozen of those on earth already and he hasn't been able to see them in years." Though John couldn't help but resent the ease with which Carson had accepted the news. A nephew wasn't a life altering realization.
A son…
Rodney just peered at him for a long moment. "Is this one of those problems Teyla's going to have to deal with?" He waved a hand to encompass the outside world. "Because Woolsey's not blind – he knows something's up between you and Alex."
John let his shoulders slump. "Really?" He thought he had been doing better than that. Showing no favoritism toward Alex in the first place… but then, who else on the city but his own team did he check in with on a regular basis. Stopping that was probably doing just as much harm as good.
And this on top of whatever traumatic memories Alex had been dealing with only a few days earlier.
"You two are far too alike in your coping mechanisms," Rodney muttered under his breath, before huffing. "I never thought I would be the one to stay this, but… Take him on another jumper ride. Teach him to shoot Ronon's blaster. Hell, go borrow some explosives from Cadman and see if you can't blow up the impenetrable substance in Lab 22. Do something."
If Rodney was chastising him… well… it was probably pretty bad.
And noticeable.
John rubbed at the back of his neck. "And what… a jumper ride will magically fix all our problems?" The fact that he didn't remember anything. The fact that his brother Ian had raised Alex to be a spy. The fact that Alex had suffered a lot in two years, when he should've been enjoying his teenage years.
"No, you hardheaded buffoon. It's called damage control. Oh…" Rodney pushed up from the chair with a huff. "I'll just get Teyla to whack you with some sticks. Maybe that will knock some sense into you. Like father, like son." He stomped out the door before John could even get another word in.
What if I'm the problem?
He really would've liked to just slouch in his chair. But there were appearances to be made.
And he needed to do something. Otherwise, Rodney would probably carry through on his threat and Teyla would be none too gentle…
Kidnapping Alex for a little jaunt in a sanctioned puddle jumper was turning out to be a lot harder than John had anticipated.
For one, even with Lieutenant Simmons still off-duty, he seemed to have a habit of always being where Alex was. And it wasn't like John could exactly command him to be somewhere else – well, he could, but he wasn't about to be a jerk. The kid could do what he wanted with his free time. If that meant hanging around the science labs voluntarily… John couldn't really begrudge him that.
The other problem was the fact that Alex was a squirrelly little bastard and seemed to have a sixth sense for whenever John was getting close. More than once, John had caught fleeting glimpses of Alex as he hightailed it out of wherever John had hoped to pin him down.
Teyla had come after him the next day and taken him to task with her sticks.
He wasn't going to wait around for Rodney to sic Ronon on him…
Of course, apparently despite trying his best – without infringing on obvious personal space – he was no closer to clearing the air with Alex than when he had started. If anything, the utter failure of achieving anything was just spurring the rumors even further.
John glanced down at his watch, then pushed out of his desk chair.
Right.
He was the colonel.
That had to matter for something around here.
Just had to get Alex away in a manner that didn't set off the protective instincts of the entirety of Sierra Squad. How that had happened, John wasn't entirely sure. And he wasn't exactly going to question the mindset of marines…
"Colonel Sheppard, a word?"
John just barely kept himself from hunching his shoulders and plastered a pleasant expression on his face. "Mr. Woolsey."
Really, the last person he wanted to talk to.
Based on Woolsey's bland expression and the fact that he had tracked John down to his office… this wasn't something he could make up an emergency to get out of. So, he gestured Woolsey into his office and put off any hopes of catching Alex before dinner.
Woolsey didn't bother to sit down, so John didn't either, just rocked a hip against the almost empty desk.
And waited.
It didn't take long.
"Colonel Sheppard, I really do have to protest at the way the city has been run these past few months."
John just carefully raised an eyebrow. "I just deal with the military." And if Rodney was the one who really ran all the scientists, well, he wasn't going to complain.
"You're well aware of the private projects McKay and Zelenka are working on. Outside of the purview of the IOA." Woolsey's lips pressed into a thin line. "There are securities and safeguards for a reason."
Private projects.
There were at least a dozen that John could think of, off the top of his head. Though, if Woolsey had even an inkling of any of them… it could be disastrous for the entire city.
There was a reason Lorne wasn't even aware of most of them.
"This city is a base for exploration and discovery – not for developing new and exciting weapons that your government can use proprietarily."
John kept a carefully bland expression on his face. "Weapons?" The only weapons project he knew about was the Ancient Killer devices. And Rodney certainly wasn't trying to develop anything new – but figure out what had gone wrong.
Woolsey's face pinched into a frown. "Despite what you may believe, Colonel, I am not blind. And Dr. Madsen made sure to keep me appraised of any lab accidents."
Madsen.
Fuck.
That was a thorn in his side that really needed to be dealt with. Sooner rather than later. "And she just… told you?"
"Hardly more than common knowledge. Dr. Zelenka has been seen in the infirmary five times in the past four months for injuries consistent with electrical shock, accompanied by either Dr. McKay or Dr. Parrish."
The biologist?
Also, last he knew, Rodney had been strongly campaigning against using the Ancient Killers even on non-ATA people – since repeated exposure seemed to rattle their brains just a bit. "And you think this is related to a weapon?"
"Colonel, whatever else could it be?"
John opened and closed his mouth because… yeah, he didn't have a better explanation either. Unless… "They're still working on the prototype of the ZPM recharger."
"A project that the IOA is well and truly aware of. And would dearly like to have one of their own scientists involved in." He slanted a significant glance in John's direction.
And really, hadn't it only been several months ago that Woolsey had been saying that even the IOA were not to be trusted? What had flipped his viewpoint and how had that happened…?
For all the distinct lack of glowing eyes, John almost wanted to force Woolsey into a body scanner just to make sure…
"Furthermore, I will not tolerate Alex Rider remaining on the city any longer and the IOA will back me up. Atlantis is no place for a child. He will be leaving with the Daedalus."
John opened his mouth to protest – no one person could decide who would leave or stay on Atlantis – but Woolsey cut him off with a flourish of papers.
"I know you've bought his intelligent teenager act, however my sources tell me that he is a trained assassin." He shoved the papers into John's hand – one, a grainy photograph that showed someone with an approximation of a resemblance to Alex pointing a gun at a well-dressed woman, and the other, a listing of events where Alex had been spotted with known terrorists the world over.
Information that by no means should Woolsey have had the ability to compile. They had been monitoring every outgoing transmission, yet somehow…
"Can you tell me that this is an innocent child?" Woolsey demanded.
John carefully schooled his face into one of blank concern. "O'Neill and his committee cleared Alex." He held up a hand to prevent those arguments. "And even though this was outside the purview of the IOA, I think you'll agree that it doesn't make it any less valid." Even if it was an entire committee that had been made up on the spot.
Really, they should've thought about changing Alex's name…
Woolsey tapped on the photograph. "And it doesn't even disturb you that there's an assassin running around the city?"
"I haven't seen any proof of that, aside from a photo that could very easily be manipulated."
Woolsey flushed at that, then grabbed the papers back. "Fine. But I still won't permit him to stay any longer. He is a menace and is stirring discontent among the civilians."
Well, that was just patently false. If anything, the Marines and scientists had rallied around Alex – quite a few had been more than eager to add fuel to the fire with the Marines who had assaulted him.
"I have my sources, Colonel." Woolsey narrowed his eyes in John's direction. "And in case you forget, the IOA put me in charge of this city. Your sphere of influence only expands to the military."
John grit his teeth. This was the result of having a leader that felt they knew more than everyone else around them.
It was going to end badly.
"Colonel Sheppard, this is your warning." Woolsey stepped closer, until he was just barely a respectable distance away. "You have two weeks. All clandestine projects from the military and science sides will be rectified before the Daedalus arrives. If not… I'll be sure that you, Drs. McKay, Zelenka, and Mr. Rider will be on board when the Daedalus ships out. And the IOA will not be welcoming you back."
"The IOA doesn't run the military," John said. Though Woolsey most certainly could try to kick Rodney and Zelenka off the city, it would probably incite a riot among the scientists. And no doubt, the military wouldn't be far behind.
Chaos.
A situation that was completely FUBAR.
The perfect storm for an outside agent to come in and take over.
Woolsey just narrowed his eyes, before calmly turning and walking toward the door. "Two weeks, Colonel."
John let out a long breath and slumped against the desk.
He should've taken retirement years ago…
John yawned, feeling his jaw pop in protest. It was early, but not ridiculously early. He had had worse call times to gate out, after all. It was just… after an already late-night herding drunk scientists and Marines that had celebrated the New Year a little too hard… He was having trouble convincing himself it was going to be worth it.
Zelenka had come through for him, finishing up some much-needed modifications and repairs on jumper three in just the nick of time. The shakedown flight was scheduled ASAP, since they never knew when multiple jumpers would be needed, and no one really looked twice when John signed himself up to be the test pilot for the morning.
That it just happened to match up beautifully with the mark of the New Year on earth when most everyone not on duty was hungover, well… He wasn't going to complain.
And no one was even going to notice his little tagalong.
Provided he actually showed.
John glanced down at his watch.
4:28
Two more minutes and the kid would officially be late.
But Rodney wouldn't be able to deny that he had legitimately tried.
And maybe Teyla and Ronon would stop ganging up on him…
Maybe the entire conversation wouldn't crash and burn so badly when there was no additional audience…
There was the faintest creak as someone stepped onto ramp and John did his best to just flash an amused glance in Alex's direction. And not pay attention to the fact that the kid looked nervous as hell.
Which… yeah.
"Good to go?" Which translated to, did you successfully convince Private Higgins that going to the labs to work with Zelenka at four in the morning was a normal thing to do?
Alex just slumped into the co-pilot's chair and hummed noncommittally.
Since there wasn't another person trying to join them on their little jaunt, John took that to mean a success. He handed over a thermos of coffee – pilfered from Rodney's personal stash – and figured that more coherent conversation could wait until they were at least up the in sky.
Away from everyone else.
"Command, this is Jumper Three, ready for test flight protocol."
"Copy that, Jumper Three. You are cleared for takeoff."
John snorted. "Not like they could stop us."
That earned a quiet scoff from Alex, which John counted as a win.
The jumper was like putty in his hands, lifting off with nary a thought. Zelenka had upgraded some of the sensors and wanted a slingshot route around the closest moon. It would take a minimum of three hours and the worst that could go wrong was one of the sensors would be off. No fatal flaws possible.
"Have a good flight, sir."
John signed off, settled into the quiet, and let himself fall into the familiar motions of breaking through the atmosphere.
As easy as cake.
After nearly half an hour of silence, it became clear that nothing was going to suddenly go wrong with the jumper and Alex had perked up a bit. Space wasn't near as exciting after the first instance, but there was definitely some charm to breaking through the atmosphere.
John stretched, letting go of the controls and switching the jumper onto autopilot. Or at least, what he had termed autopilot. Only a handful – Rodney most definitely excluded – were able to coax the jumper into the mode without triggering a dozen fail-safes in the process. Now though, so long as Alex didn't get it into his head to start poking around, it would work like a charm.
It would be… probably forty-five minutes until they reached the moon.
John pushed up out of his chair and headed toward the back of the jumper. "Come on." There was a muffled exclamation of surprise as Alex jumped up as well, but he definitely hesitated. "It's on autopilot."
"Cool." It was quiet, but awed. So he hadn't quite been jaded by all the gizmos on Atlantis.
John hid his smile and just pulled out the bag he had stashed in the rear compartment. "Hungry?" They had left well before the mess had been serving breakfast. Most people waited at least another hour before trying to descend on the cooks.
Alex lifted one shoulder in a shrug, before sitting down on one of the benches. He took the not-bacon and not-egg sandwich with only a slightly skeptical glance, before chowing down.
After so many years, purple eggs were just the norm, but John suspected it was a little more off putting for someone to grow accustomed to in just a matter of months. They were fairly similar to normal eggs, just naturally salty and well, purple. Bacon was bacon, as far as John was concerned.
They ate through the contents of the breakfast John had begged off the cooks in silence.
Really, there were a lot of silences, suddenly.
And while John was about the last person to want to talk about his feelings…
He cleared his throat, then carefully didn't make eye contact with Alex. "It's been pointed out that… well, despite saving you from the clutches of the Trust and then dropping you in with the scientists here… we're still more or less strangers."
And Alex just stared at him, assessing.
Right.
Probably even more reason they were actually related.
Feelings, emotions, and experiences not involving gratuitous violence were difficult to talk about.
Which was why John had brought along a handful of sentimental items.
He pulled his wallet out of the bag and thumbed through until he found a well-worn photo. The color was fading and the edges nearly torn, but it had survived quite a few years still intact. He handed it over to Alex, watching the expressions flicker across his face.
Recognition.
Confusion.
Loss.
There were two individuals depicted – lounging carelessly in front of an '85 corvette. John, fifteen at that point, shared quite a few features with Alex. Ian, just barely twenty-three then, had changed little over the intervening years.
Alex traced over the image, just barely, then glanced up at John. "You really don't look similar."
John couldn't help the smile at that. "He was a half-brother." No one had really mentioned Ian's mother, just that she was out of the picture. "He dashed all of dad's hopes for running the family business." And had up and disappeared just after that summer. Never to be seen or heard from again.
"And you were… told he was dead?" Alex glanced back at the photo, brow furrowing. "But he just… became someone else?"
John shrugged. "As far as we knew, he joined a secret government organization and cut all ties. I…" He swallowed, breath catching in his chest for a moment. "I've always assumed it was the CIA he got mixed up with, but… We were told he died in a car accident." No foul play, no intoxication, they were assured. Just… bad, bad luck. The wrong place at the wrong time.
Alex snorted. "Well, they didn't get that wrong. Just… thirteen years too early."
John nodded, as if he hadn't spent the past two days going over every detail Director Byrne had told him. Assassinated and staged to look like a car accident. Only this time, real.
"He never really talked about his family. Or my da-Joh-uh… you, I guess." Alex tripped over the words, face flushing a bit.
John blew out a long breath and slouched down on the bench. "Ian left home at seventeen. I'm not really surprised he never talked about dad. The rest of us… Dave is four years younger, married with a kid on the way. Dad died a couple of years ago, heart attack. There… hasn't been a whole lot of family communication over the past ten years." That was probably an understatement, but he and Dave were trying to mend some fences. Though John wasn't entirely sure how he was going to explain this little hiccup.
"Why'd he do it?" Alex muttered, finger tracing along the photograph once again.
And no matter John's confusion on it, Ian had known the truth. Had known John was still alive. Could've put an end to the charade at any time.
But he hadn't.
Why?
Protecting Alex from something worse?
"I don't know why Ian did anything he did, but… kid, I don't doubt that he loved you." Because Ian… was never one for children. But the fact that he had stuck around and raised Alex… that spoke volumes. "There are a lot of details we're missing, but… He was clearly trying to put you in the best position possible."
"And then I ruined it by stalking MI6…" Alex let out a sharp huff, then passed the photo back across to John. "But there's no answers to how all of this…" He made a sharp gesture with his wrist, probably trying to encompass the insanity of the entire situation.
John grimaced and rubbed at the back of his head. "No. O'Neill and Jackson are working on it on their side, but…" They weren't going to hear about any of those results for a while. Not until the next scheduled dial in. "All we've got is the tattoo to work off of." And well, he had never really been unnerved by the tattoo, but now it seemed more… sinister. Like someone marking their property. An event he did not remember.
"I watched him get shot," Alex murmured, fingers twining together. "Rothman had me convinced that MI6 killed him."
John opened and closed his mouth for a moment, before it sunk in that the him, was him. John. Alex's father. Or at least, supposed to be.
"That's how they got me, you know. Ian never talked about him. And then, suddenly all these people were referencing a man that had been dead for well over a decade. Telling me that he had been such a great man for going up against MI6 – until MI6 decided they were done with him, and killed him. I just… wanted to know something about my family." Alex scoffed, chin tilting downward until he was practically speaking into his chest. "If I had just—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "SCORPIA was the one who killed him, but I guess, now, even that isn't true. I was just a foolish kid."
And that… that was probably the reason for at least half the awkwardness.
Because Alex was having to reorient his world view based on the new information.
If John had just known… at least half the trauma of Alex's past two years could have been avoided.
They settled into a long silence.
"Ian left clues though," Alex finally said, breaking through the silence. "He made sure I had the proper paperwork to get dual citizenship. Even if none of us knew why it had been filed and accepted."
"And look where it got you." John couldn't help the slight chuckle at that. There was no way Ian had even anticipated them ever coming into contact. Not if he had spent thirteen years making sure Alex wouldn't ask any questions.
"Yeah…" There was a bit of wistfulness to his sigh.
John reached into the pack and pulled out the handful of personal belongings he bothered to keep with him after this many years. The childhood photos he had only brought because of a dare from Rodney. The first ribbon he had won showing horses in his childhood. Nancy's engagement ring – more a reminder to not take stupid steps without thinking it through. The singed patch he had pulled off his uniform from the first year of the expedition. "Now, under no condition are you to admit any of this exists to Rodney."
That earned a hint of a smile and John launched into his favorite story from his childhood – when he had gotten first place in the showing arena after Ian had been disqualified for having too sour a face.
Even if they might never quite figure out the whole father-son thing, John was going to do his best to make sure Alex knew some of his own history as well.
A/N: It has been a day, not entirely happy, so have some sort-of fluff. I really do enjoy writing and editing these, if only to get a few speculations from you all. There are so many directions we can go... I'll try to get one more chapter out before school starts again (I'll be adjunct teaching, so hello 50+ hour work weeks), but no promises.