Chapter 44: Land of the Living

The real world sucked.

There was no gentle wake-up, no slow return to awareness, just – pain.

It had taken a solid six hours for Dr. Beckett to get the pain back under control after Alex had inadvertently torn his stitches. And then, though it felt like the last thing he wanted to do, Dr. Beckett had drugged him back to sleep with the excuse that explanations could be made in the morning.

Only a glimpse of Sheppard through the strange window overlooking the room had made him realize he hadn't utterly failed. It was enough to let his body surrender to the pull of unconsciousness.

Now though, the pain was under control, he had slept more than he had been awake, and Alex was bored out of his mind, trying determinedly not to think about the events of the past few days. Or however long it had been.

"How you doing, laddie?" Dr. Beckett asked, bustling into the room.

Alex jerked his chin down. "Fine." His shoulder was immobilized for the time being and he had at least twenty stitches in his abdomen. His throat was a little sore, but the bruising looked worse than it felt. Other than that, perfectly fine.

Dr. Beckett gave him a skeptical look, before pulling out his stethoscope. "Right then, I'll be the judge."

Alex huffed, but let him go through the examination, listening and poking and prodding here and there. It wasn't like anything had changed in the last twelve hours.

Dr. Beckett stepped back, then pulled up the chair by the bedside. "Well, everything seems to be in order. As long as you put all heroics on hold for the next few weeks, you'll be just fine. How do you feel about some broth, then?"

"Ecstatic," Alex deadpanned. He didn't really want to eat anything, what with the recent memory of throwing up everything when he moved wrong, but…

"It'll be a few days before you feel like eating, I suspect. Did Dr. Biro go over everything she patched up?"

Alex grimaced. Probably in a little more graphic detail than he would have liked – how close he had come to losing parts of his intestines, liver, or spleen. It had seemed like she was trying to strongly discourage him from ever removing a knife from his stomach, should he have the unfortunate luck to have it happen again. Which wasn't an unfounded fear.

Dr. Beckett snorted softly, then patted Alex on the hand. "Self-removal of foreign objects is highly frowned upon."

He supposed he was lucky to not be more messed up from that – but in all fairness, he hadn't really expected to survive at that point. It had seemed more like a desperate last chance effort at not completely losing. Tulloch had lost.

"There's a long list of people wanting to see you. I have it on good authority that a few have choice words for you." Dr. Beckett grinned conspiratorially. "A certain lieutenant is particularly put out that you shoved him in a closet."

Alex crossed his arms, as best he could. "It's not like I was going to drag him around with me." Though he knew Greg wasn't going to let it go for a long time. Provided he got over the fact that Alex had taken out the majority of the invading force – singlehandedly.

"There's one though…" Dr. Beckett glanced up at the window overlooking the room. The window that had been empty the last five times Alex had dared peek at it. "He's probably going to be able to attribute a fair share of his new grey hairs to you."

Alex chewed on his lip and glanced away. "Not my fault he got captured."

"No…" Dr. Beckett drew the word out carefully. "But the only reasons he's not up there right now is because Rodney finally dragged him out for a shower. He was very… concerned when you didn't wake up right away."

Alex held back a grimace.

How to make things awkward with Sheppard again? Apparently by nearly dying and then using malfunctioning ancient technology. He bet he was going to get an earful from Rodney about that.

"I know you're both still trying to wrap your minds around everything, but maybe it's time you actually tried to have some father-son bonding time."

Alex couldn't help but turn a horrified look in Dr. Beckett's direction. They had all been peacefully just ignoring the elephant in the room. Especially after Sheppard's own near-death experience with the dinosaurs.

Which… had that only been a couple of days ago?

Things in the city went from zero to a thousand far too quickly.

Whiplash.

"Take it from someone who has died before, you don't realize what you've lost until it's gone."

Alex squinted in Dr. Beckett's direction. "Died?"

He shrugged, as if it were inconsequential. "Aye, sort of," he hedged. "Others have come back from the dead. Or gotten close. Dr. Jackson I think holds the record for three funerals…" He shook himself, before refocusing on Alex. "Whatever the case, you and the Colonel need to work things out. Whether or not he can remember when you came into the world, he's still your father."

Remember.

Alex's eyes widened, remembering the bits and pieces that the Trust agents had thrown at him. His hand shot out, grabbing Dr. Beckett's wrist. "A disk! That goa'uld lady had a disk. And they said something about a brain wipe—" He cut himself off, thinking it over. "Is that even possible?"

Dr. Beckett looked rueful. "Aye, some technologies – though not common in this galaxy or the next. Rodney has the disk, but last I heard, hadn't cracked the encryption."

Alex blew out a long breath.

And it was too much to hope that some random lady would carry a disk that would implicate the long-lost past. Unless they planned to do what SCORPIA had – and try to influence his decisions by showing him selected clips and points of view of his family. It had worked once, so surely someone would think it would work again.

Except he knew more now.

He wasn't going to jump to rash conclusions from one little video.

Not again.

A clock chimed on the wall, marking the hour. Dr. Beckett pushed up from his chair and circled around to the IV pump. "You're due your next dose. Perhaps a nap, some broth, and then visitors, hmm?"

Alex opened his mouth to argue, before settling back with a huff. Whatever they had him on right now was good enough to knock him out for an hour or two. As much as he wanted some… intellectual stimulation, he was going to be in no shape for it in a matter of minutes.

He could almost feel the pain meds kicking in and pulling him under, yanking at his eyelids.

"I'll let Rodney know to bring John back in two hours."

The pull was too strong.

The broth had been utterly unappetizing, but the promise of actual food in the near future was enough to make him choke it down. Then someone had come in and helped him go through range of motion with his arm – and really, he could've done with one of those Ancient healing devices that repaired all the damage at once. As it was, it was going to take weeks for his shoulder to heal – much less get back anywhere near the amount of strength he had previously.

No climbing columns in his near future. Hopefully there wouldn't be any more emergencies.

Despite his insistence he could manage another couple of hours awake... he had knocked back out before Sheppard had returned.

And in the meantime, Sheppard had showed up.

The man looked only somewhat worse for the wear, passed out in the chair next to Alex's bed. There were visible bruises on his jaw and throat – no doubt someone had tried to choke him too at some point – and the cast was still present, but he was alive.

Something uncurled in Alex's chest.

Worry.

Fear.

Awkward though their relationship had been over the past several weeks, there was no mistaking the fact that Sheppard had done his best to look out for Alex. Yet despite it all, Alex had somehow taken the fall.

Almost literally.

"You really awake this time?" Sheppard was regarding him with a bleary half-lidded stare.

"Yeah..."

Sheppard rearranged himself into a less slouched position, though the propping of his leg didn't help with that much. "Told me I had better have a chocolate biscuit." There was a hint of a grin on his face. "I take it you're not too impressed with Carson's fare."

Alex went to shrug, but froze halfway through the motion. Not a good idea. "Sounds more appetizing than broth."

Sheppard snorted. "I'm sure they'll have you back to normal food soon enough."

"Yeah, sure..." He wouldn't put it past Dr. Biro to keep him on an unpleasant diet for as long as possible. She had been pissed at him and had already scheduled him for 10 hours of first aid training. Among other things.

She was likely just the first on a long list of people ready to chew him out.

Never mind that he had saved everyone...

"You know, we're under strict orders not to stress you out, but I think you're doing enough of that on your own." Sheppard just looked amused.

Alex blew out a long breath. "No one," No one being Dr. Beckett and Dr. Biro, because they hadn't allowed anyone else in to see him. "Is telling me anything."

He had gotten the obvious goa'uld. He had gotten most everyone else that was on the goa'uld's side. But everything else...

Madsen.

Woolsey.

Hell, he didn't even know if Ronon was alive – though he suspected if there had been particularly bad news, something would've been said by now...

"There's not a whole lot to tell. At least from our side." There was that inscrutable stare from Sheppard once again, as if he were trying to put together a complex puzzle. "Woolsey and Madsen were removed. Woolsey was under Madsen's influence. Several other personnel were removed, but I'm just as out of the loop as you are."

Alex highly doubted that. Rodney was no doubt Sheppard's link to the relevant gossip. They wouldn't cut him out completely.

"Once you're released, we'll have a... debriefing."

Alex grimaced at that word. Especially because it implied some sort of official report was going to be made.

His cover was well and truly blown.

No way was O'Neill going to be able to keep a lid on this.

It was going to play right into the IOA's hands. Just what Woolsey had always wanted, it seemed.

Which...

If Woolsey was gone...

"Who's taking over Woolsey's spot?"

"He's actually-"

"Lock those doors Sheppard!" Rodney scurried into the room, looking furtively over his shoulder.

"Rodney..." Sheppard drew out the word, but Alex could almost feel Atlantis perking up to do his bidding. "Carson will kill you, if-"

"Listen, I've got answers, and we've only got about half an hour before the director comes looking for me." He shoved his laptop at Sheppard, before dragging one of the other free chairs around the edge of the bed. "And black out the observation room, would you?"

Alex hastily shuffled to the side, just as Rodney decided that the bed would be the best viewing platform for his laptop.

Best not to get in the way of the man when he was clearly on a mission. And Alex suspected it was definitely breaking Dr. Beckett's no stressing rule.

"Once we had access to Dr. Carmoni's data pad, we were able to track down who the local Trust contact was within the city – one of the cooks. A cook!" Rodney started typing furiously, clearly going through layers of whatever security he deemed necessary. "From there, it was simple as breaking the local code to find the logistic algorithm these nitwits decided to use. Fibonacci sequence. Fibonacci!"

Alex caught a wary glance from Sheppard, who clearly had little more idea about what was currently piquing Rodney's interest.

"And it's a miracle you didn't short anything out with your little stunt." This was jabbed in Alex's direction, though he wasn't quite sure what he had done wrong. "But we were able to recover not only bits of the most recent transmissions – corrupted slightly, unfortunately – but were also able to use the encryption code to get into the data pack that… That. Bitch, was holding hostage."

Rodney pulled up a grainy image, distorted beyond recognition. It had clearly been a human at one point, but any identifying features were missing.

So maybe he had done a little damage.

"Gregoria, you had better have good news for me." The words were muffled, as if listening from a long distance away.

"We have run into some… difficulties. Tulloch assures me he has it under control."

Sheppard jerked at the name, but Rodney hushed him.

"Sheppard and the kid?"

"Sheppard is missing. The kid is being a thorn in my side."

"That's the problem with training them so young. They get headstrong. You just gotta know when to step back."

"It would be so much easier to go scorched earth with this project," she said. "Your little pet project is rapidly outliving his usefulness. And taking Tulloch's men with him."

The man chuckled. "I warned you," he sing-songed.

There was a scuffle, the image shuddering as if it had been lost, before returning.

Alex froze as the memories slipped into place.

This was Gregoria and the man on the orb.

This was when he had killed her.

Murdered her.

Assassinated her.

"Sorry to interrupt." His own voice cut through, and despite the distortion, Alex flinched at the utter monotone display.

It hadn't even mattered that he had just killed a woman.

"Oh, look at you little Alex." The image flickered, clearing for moments to show the man, grinning at Alex. Then, just as quickly, flickered away. "Becoming the cold-blooded killer that Rothman always knew you were. You think your friends here will be so happy to see you when they see how many bodies you've racked up? That they won't watch you from the corner of their eye, waiting for you to turn on them? Waiting for you to try to kill them?"

"Fuck. You."

"I can see spending time with daddy has helped so much. That wasn't the original plan, but… like father like son, taking out an entire invading army. You should ask him how that one went, how the guilt felt after taking them down one by one—"

Alex flinched as the audio suddenly cut off. The point where he had finally shot the orb.

Sheppard was very obviously not looking in his direction.

Taking down an invading army single handedly. It was beyond ridiculous.

"That's not—" Rodney harrumphed. "Look, you can deal with your misplaced guilt complexes at a later point in time. In therapy. Or. Whatever."

"Why Rodney, I didn't know you cared," Sheppard drawled, still pointedly not looking in Alex's direction.

"Not the point!" He waved his hands a little wildly, and Alex tried to scoot further to the side of the bed. It wasn't like he had a lot of distance to go. "This… this person was their contact back on Earth – and has clear knowledge of whatever went on between you two. Or at least, some of the backstory."

Alex wasn't quite sure why replaying that particular audio clip was absolutely necessary. He could've done without cementing those few moments even further into his brain.

"But, listen." Rodney tapped a few more keys on the laptop, pulling up another audio clip.

"Sometimes you gotta cross the line. You just gotta know when to step back."

"And with a little bit of filtering."

The clip repeated, this time with the same boomy far away sense as the first clip.

The same voice.

The same person.

Alex turned wide eyes on Rodney. "You know who this is?"

"Possibly," he hedged, before chewing on his lip for a long moment. "All we have are suspicions. But it's no one here. And could cause… significant problems back on earth." He glanced at Sheppard, before turning back to the computer. "We were… we were able to get a partial facial scan and ran it against known entities in the stargate program. There were… a few hits." Two images came up on the screen. On the left, a professional looking headshot of the man Alex had seen on the orb. The right, a grainy security camera picture from a dimly lit hallway, showing a significantly younger man, with similar, but not identical facial features.

"I've… I've seen him before." Sheppard tapped the left picture. "He's NID."

Rodney hummed approvingly.

"He was on the orb," Alex said, quietly. And no doubt, that brought even more problems. Because the NID were supposed to be people they could trust.

"Malcom Barrett, current NID agent."

Sheppard swore under his breath.

"And the other is Barrett Clayton," Rodney nodded toward the right image, "Ex-NID and currently working for the Trust. He hasn't been seen in the past six months."

"So, a red herring," Sheppard said

"Perhaps." Rodney looked shifty. "Look, there are more unexpected variables here than we had originally anticipated. If the NID had a hand in this…"

"We're screwed," Alex muttered.

Just another nameless letter agency after him.

They could join the list of others that wanted him dead.

This time though, going to another galaxy apparently wasn't enough.

"Got any connections to alternate universes?" Alex asked, picking at the bed sheets. Surely, if those existed…

Sheppard snorted. "Probably not the best idea. You'd probably end up in one where you're the bad guy."

Alex blew out a long breath and let his head fall back against the bed, suddenly exhausted again.

The Trust.

NID.

IOA.

Who knew who else.

Maybe he needed to tack the goa'uld and the wraith on there just to be complete.

"Right, that's enough for now." Sheppard closed the laptop against Rodney's protests, then picked it up and shoved it at him. "Alex needs to rest and I guarantee Carson knew as soon as we locked those doors. So, you're going to do damage control. Or else." He ignored Rodney's spluttering, just nudged him out of the way with a well-placed crutch.

Alex didn't need to reach out to feel the change as Sheppard unlocked the doors – Dr. Beckett burst in with little fanfare.

"Sorry about that, Rodney will explain." And while it was obvious that Sheppard had no intention of getting up from his chair, Rodney apparently seemed to fear the or else, because he was quick to drag Dr. Beckett back out of the room.

Alex let his eyes slide shut, trying not to follow through on the urge to laugh – it would only make him hurt more.

There was nothing remotely humorous about any of it.

"Hey." A hand on his brought him out of his musing. "I'm still… we'll keep you safe here. We'll… figure it out. You and me, kid. You and me."

And while it felt like even more of his world was coming crashing down around him, Alex couldn't help but feel just a little bit comforted.

The problem with being ordered on bed rest in the infirmary was that even despite his newfound knowledge of Ancient, Alex was bored. For some of it, just because he could read it didn't mean he understood it. There was far too much mind numbingly confusing equations and theorems – many of which were disproven in the very next article that Alex looked at. For the rest… well, there wasn't exactly a library of recreational literature at his disposal.

Dr. Z had attempted to help by lending him what was supposed to be a very popular novel in Czech. The only problem was that Alex's attention span wasn't long enough to parse through some of the translations and it just resulted in more of a headache than success.

So, instead, he worried.

Worried about what was going on in the background of Atlantis that he knew nothing about.

Sheppard had disappeared from his bedside after the second day and only returned in the evenings looking worn and exhausted. They hadn't exactly touched on the fact that Alex had killed multiple Trust agents in the pursual of freedom for Sheppard and company – but presumably that was at least some of the fire he was putting out.

Rodney had dropped in once to rant at him about using authorized technology and simultaneously pick his brain about the transfer device – but had been chased out by Dr. Beckett before things had gotten interesting. Before he could tax himself. He could've gone for another hour at least.

Teyla had appeared briefly to give her thanks – protecting her people, or something like that – and promised to give him more staff lessons, once he was cleared for physical activity again. Which, if Dr. Beckett had his way, would be a very long time away.

Ronon had showed up and given him a crash course in Satedan poetry – something rarely shared, if the way Sheppard's eyebrows rose at the mention of it meant anything – which turned out to be his way of making sure Alex was okay. Somehow Ronon had survived surprisingly unscathed.

Unfair.

But five people over as many days was far too few.

Especially as the longer he was undisturbed, the more frequently Dr. Beckett – or a nurse – showed up to drag him out of bed to walk laps around the eerily silent infirmary.

Bedrest.

Only when the doctor deemed it best, apparently.

He could've done bedrest from his own room – but, no.

The only mercy seemed to be that since he was still stuck on bedrest, the official debrief was still being delayed.

Presumably, so that O'Neill had at least a little more time to figure out damage control on the earth side – though Alex suspected his cover was well and truly blown. Too many people – namely the entirety of the Daedalus command crew – had heard him and what he had planned to do. Knew that he had figured out enough about the city that he could mess with vital sensors. That was dangerous knowledge for someone that was supposedly just a college intern.

Alex huffed as he lowered himself into the chair someone had rustled up once it became clear that he wasn't going to tolerate sitting around in bed for many days longer. There were only so many hours he could stare at the ceiling wishing for sleep, or stare at the tablet wishing for entertainment.

A sharp knock on the door preceded someone entering the room, but Alex didn't even bother to look up.

"If you're here to put me out of my misery, I won't even fight this time," Alex grumbled into his chest, staring at the data pad as if it had the answers. It didn't.

There was a sharp snort, as whoever deigned to visit him stepped through the door and let it slide shut behind them. "But then, all my hard work would be for naught."

Alex jerked upright, wincing as he pulled on the remainder of the stitches, and turning to look at the figure lounging against the door. "Ben!"

Ben Daniels, in the flesh, smirked in Alex's direction, before crossing over to the edge of the bed and taking a seat. "Imagine my surprise when I find out that there's a little cub hiding out in another galaxy."

"What… what are you doing here?" Alex asked warily. Because last he knew, Ben had been with MI6. Or something. And that was really the last thing he needed to add to the mess of his life.

"I've been with the SGC for the past six months, preparing to take on a diplomatic position." He made a vague gesture at the walls around them. "Just to get delayed by a couple of megalomaniac aliens and my predecessor being poisoned."

Alex blinked.

Processing.

Delayed.

Aliens.

Poison.

"You're taking over for Woolsey."

There was that half smile once again. "A little ahead of schedule, but yes."

"And no… urges to… kill me?"

"They've checked us all over quite thoroughly. I've intercepted anything negative Woolsey had prepared about you, so I don't think you'll have to worry about getting kicked off the city any time soon." He shrugged slightly. "A heads up from O'Neill would've been nice, but between you and me, I don't think he put our particular timelines together."

Or he liked to meddle.

Alex let out a long breath. Like a weight off his chest, just because now the leader of the city didn't entirely despise him. Wasn't campaigning for his removal from the city. Wasn't inadvertently colluding with the Trust – and whatever nonsense it had to do with his past.

"The others have been clamoring to see you, but Dr. Beckett has this place locked down tight."

"The… the others?"

Ben snorted. "You thought O'Neill would send me out here by myself? He got a SAS trained team without having to jump through any of the politics."

"K-unit?"

"None other."

Another blast from his past that he was so sure he had left behind on earth. He didn't even know their names.

"I'll recommend you wait until getting out of here to see them though. They were a little… enthusiastic when they found out Cub was in the city. And then… uh, a bit enraged when you went and tried to die on all of us." There was a knowing glance at that.

It wasn't like he had planned to nearly die.

It was just…

He had run out of options.

And maybe pulling the knife out had been a bad decision among a sea of bad decisions, but… everything had worked out in the end?

"And just a suggestion," Ben leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You figure out what's going on between you and Sheppard sometime soon."

Alex jerked back. He couldn't—

If he knew something, then—

That meant—

"Sheppard told me."

Alex blinked. "Oh."

Because why would that just casually come up in conversation.

"As a responsible older friend, who happened to be around during the whole Ash debacle—"

Alex winced at that.

"—listen to your father for once in your life. That's half of what got you into this mess in the first place – wanting answers about your family – isn't it? Why don't you listen to what he has to say, since he's risen from the dead." Ben leaned back onto his arms. "From the brief explanation I heard, no one has a good explanation. Which means there was probably some sort of… voodoo." He wiggled his fingers. "But he clearly wants to have some part in your life – and not just because you're his son. He spent days waiting for you to wake up, then made sure that you were given enough space and time to recover before being dragged back into the masses to be lauded a hero. No one does that merely out of familial loyalty."

Alex chewed on his lip for a long moment, trying to reconcile everything he knew with everything he had experienced. Sheppard had been trying. Even before the stupid planet with the dinosaurs. He had tried to meet Alex wherever he was at – on a level he was comfortable with.

But…

"My life is such a mess," Alex groaned, letting his head fall into his hand.

That earned a light chuckle from Ben, before he pushed up off the bed and headed toward the door. "Well, you've got a few more days of your… seclusion. And if, in the process, you can get Sheppard out of my hair for a couple of hours, I'll be more than thankful."

Alex slumped in the chair and watched the man leave.

If only it were that easy.

A/N: Come on boys, stop dancing around each other. Alex and John just really need to sit down and talk… but do we think that's going to happen any time soon? I had great plans to give this as a New Years gift, but… managed to get COVID after successfully avoiding it for nearly four years. Thankfully, it seems to be a rather mild case. So, stay safe and healthy out there.