Chapter 49: ASPIRE

As much as Alex desperately wanted to know what was on the drive that Pilkes brought back with him – in time! – there was also reality that he needed to grapple with. Pilkes had been sent back right around the same time that Sheppard had his missing memories. Was it possible that they were connected?

Surely if it were, he would have said something.

After all, Pilkes had all but implied that he was already aware of the relationship between them. A multigenerational gene carrier after all.

But what did that mean in reality?

Time travel was confusing.

Alex flopped back on his bed, taking care to prop his shoulder carefully.

If everyone was to be believed, then the only thing Pilkes had done wrong was to conceal his true intentions – nothing nefarious, but rather intent on protecting Alex. Which, to be fair, Alex hadn't exactly made that an easy task for anyone in the past year. Pilkes had concealed his true identity – but the mention of the Lo'Estra people had niggled something in his memory.

A story Ronon had once told him.

Alex grabbed his data pad and pulled up the city network. No doubt, Rodney was going to lock down the capabilities of his data pad any day now – as soon as he realized that Alex could now suddenly read everything. It didn't mean he understood it all, but it was enough to definitely get him in trouble.

For now, though, he just wanted to access the main database.

Access.

Data center.

Central processing.

Planets.

Communities.

Second gen establishments.

Lo'Estra.

There.

He tapped through to the short description that branched off into several different directions. But it was the planet. The people.

Admittedly, it was information that was highly out of date – the modification marker showed a series of numbers he was unfamiliar with, nothing similar to anything that they used these days. Likely, no one had touched this particular society in hundreds of years. Maybe thousands…

Which was terrifying.

And although Alex could read Ancient now, he wasn't exactly about to start reading through their prose and poetry – which this section seemed to be more similar to. Less technical and more… flowery. But there was enough that he could get detail. The Lo'Estrans were a highly secretive people that only allowed outsiders onto their planet with careful consideration. If Alex was reading it right, only two or three Ancients had been allowed onto their planet. The gate address was protected by a multi-step gating process, with only a handful of people knowing the true address. The planet itself held several technological advances that had caught the ancients' interest. A sea silk. The rapidly changing weather patterns. The native's ability to fend off wraith attacks. Their planet had never been culled. And they had planned to keep it that way.

Alex tapped through to the page about the sea silk – because it seemed like a strange addition. Only preliminary testing had been completed – samples were in a lab that had probably long since succumbed to age – but it had shown some sort of protective ability.

This was a people that had existed.

And, if Pilkes was to be believed – wiped out, with only a few remaining members. If they had had some sort of technological advances that protected them against the wraith, then Alex would see why they would be at target. It was the same reason the Satedan's had been wiped out.

But it didn't answer the pressing question of why Pilkes had traveled through time. Why had he been the best candidate? Did Pilkes' past/future self not have a choice in whether or not he agreed?

And alien or not, sixteen years had done a good job at making Pilkes a convincing earther. There were none of the cultural differences that were still notable with even Teyla and Ronon – the aliens that had been around the city the longest. It was surprising that nothing had been picked up in blood tests or scans though, since there were known differences in physiology between galaxies. Yet Pilkes had made it all the way through the security clearances of the SGC. That alone was impressive, if not concerning.

The door chimed.

Alex blew out a long breath and put the tablet to the side. If someone was knocking, it meant they had gotten past Braxton. So, it was probably important. He crossed the room and thought open at the door.

"Greg!"

Greg hardly looked any worse for the wear. He had been shot in the leg, but it seemed that the infirmary had been able to patch him up enough to not need any crutches. Greg gave him a wry smile, before nodding at Braxton. "I see you got an upgrade."

Alex rolled his eyes. "As if I had a choice."

Greg hummed appreciatively as Alex waved him in. There wasn't much to offer for amenities – Dr. Beckett usually brought his own tea set with him – but there was at least the couch.

And well… it was awkward.

Did Greg even know what he had been accused of?

Did he even know why he had been in the brig for the past two days?

Did he know about Alex's role in it?

Had he heard about Pilkes?

And the last time they had seen each other Alex had locked him into a supply closet…

"So, what's this I hear about you trying to die on all of us by getting stabbed?"

Alex flushed. Right. That. "Didn't ask for it."

"But you didn't exactly hide either." Greg settled back on the couch, stretching his leg out in front of himself carefully. No crutches, but it was probably still quite sore. "Generally, it's recommended to run away from danger, unless you've been trained for it." He gave Alex a knowing look.

Alex chewed on his lip. Right. Greg had no idea about any of his history. Any of it.

"You know, when Sheppard told me that I was going to be your escort, I thought it was a demotion. I'm supposed to be a lieutenant over a squad – why would I spend my hours chasing after a teenager, that by all accounts, shouldn't even be here in the first place." Greg chuckled ruefully. "But you're more than that, aren't you? There are all sorts of rumors – you took everyone out singlehandedly, you broke into the mainframe and worked to bring them down, you guided Ronon through the city, you used their own technology against them. If I didn't know you, I wouldn't know what to believe."

Alex blinked. Some were more fantastical than could've imagined. "And what do you think?" Alex asked quietly.

The question itself was almost terrifying. Baring himself. Because he didn't want to be lauded for what had happened. He had just wanted his people, his city, to be safe.

"You did what you had to." Greg's eyes flickered over him, as if searching for the points that were still injured, landing for a long stare at the still lurid bruising around his throat. "And as much as we might like to pretend, you can get through those corridors with hardly a notice." He slanted an amused grin in Alex's direction. "You and Sheppard aren't as sneaky as you thought about those war games."

Alex jerked back. "You knew?"

"Well, I didn't have it confirmed until now, but… you had a scrape and bruising across the back of your knuckles. A torn fingernail. Little injuries that didn't match your lab time. I've done worse when I've tried to pry my hand into those small crevices in the corridors." He held a hand out in front of him, turning it front to back, examining. "You've got a slightly smaller grip and probably a lot more strength, and no one expects the teenager."

And if Greg was that observant, Alex shuddered to think what else the rest of the squad had noticed about him. Was he really that bad at blending in?

"You qualified for weapons in one day," Greg started ticking it off on his fingers, "You've got a mean right hook, have decent endurance, and have gone head-to-head with Ronon without completely failing. You had training somewhere before you came here. We could tick off the negatives too, but we'll stick to the positives."

Alex choked back a laugh. Positives. They were just leaving out the – at times – crippling PTSD, entirely dysfunctional family structure, swaths of killing, and organizations out to kill him.

Just peachy.

"What happened with you?" Alex croaked out, mouth suddenly dry.

Greg studied him for a long moment, before tilting his head curiously. "You mean after you left me in the closet?"

Alex nodded.

"Well, it took a while before I realized you had taken my gun. Good one, there. Pilkes was dead as far as I knew, you were off running the halls alone, and everyone else was trapped by whatever invading force had come for us." He shrugged, looking a little put out. "There really wasn't anything I could do. Then rescue came, I got patched up in the infirmary, and a couple days later, Director Daniels called me in for questioning."

And the rest was history. "And rumors about Pilkes?" Because as far as many of them were concerned, he was the last person to be seen with Pilkes before he disappeared.

Greg snorted. "The barracks are like a hornet's nest. Most of Sierra Squad are pissed that another person has been pulled in for extended questioning – especially since I don't exactly have any answers."

"And do you know…"

"No." He raised an eyebrow in Alex's direction. "But I think you do."

Alex chewed at the corner of his lip. It didn't surprise him. An outlandish rumor that had anything to do with time travel wasn't going to get out unless someone leaked – and the only ones that knew were high enough up that there was no chance of that happening.

So, it all came back to him.

"You know, you did a good job. I'm not sure anyone else could've gotten away with it."

"What?" Alex jerked up to stare at him.

"Some of the rumors are just that, rumors. Exaggerations. But it's pretty clear that you're the reason we had any chance at all – the Daedalus wouldn't have known what was going on until it was far too late." Greg rubbed the back of his neck, ruefully. "Believe you me, all the squads are going to have some serious retraining and reorganization at the end of all this. It's not the first time Atlantis has been invaded, but…"

It was probably one of the worst.

It didn't get much worse than the leaders all getting captured, after all.

"You were the wildcard that no one expected."

Alex snorted a laugh at that. "Not the first time."

Greg regarded him carefully. "Yeah, I'm getting that impression," he said, softly.

Alex blew out a long breath, shoulders slumping in defeat. He had tried so hard to be a normal teenager here, but it had all blown up in his face. And the result was that there were more questions than answers surrounding his existence. His entire existence.

Having someone in his corner was something Sheppard had pushed for, for weeks. Someone that Alex alone could trust.

And if this little witch hunt hadn't done anything else, it had reassured Alex of Greg's loyalties. There was little risk that he was Trust affiliated at this point.

So, Alex told him everything.

From Ian's death to Ash's betrayal. From the school in France, to the crocodile infested waters. From the stupidity of joining SCORPIA, all the way through Cairo.

About Jack.

About his failures.

His inability to keep people safe.

And he talked about Byrne's determination to get him out and into a new life. And then the betrayal of his therapist, sending him on this terrible adventure, when all he wanted was to study his degree.

There was nothing left for him on earth. Just people who wanted him dead.

And Greg listened.

Listened attentively. Never made a move to leave. Just waited patiently thorough it all. Through the tales of a teenaged ex-spy.

But the explanation on why the Trust was focused on him… That was the hardest to explain. Because it wasn't just his story anymore. It involved Sheppard. And Dr. Beckett. And General O'Neill. It involved the lives of more people than just him and showed how deep they had been entwinning lives for years.

Decades.

Alex trailed off as he finished the barest of bones of that story – that Sheppard was his father, somehow, and they still had more questions than answers. He wasn't going to touch whatever was going on with Pilkes though. His throat felt sore, and his mouth dry from all the talking. And he wasn't sure he had any more words left in him.

"Huh." Greg tilted his head curiously. "That explains… a lot."

Alex smothered an almost hysterical giggle. A lot.

"You know, though you and the colonel don't share strong physical similarities, you've got the mannerisms down pat. Right. You need a distraction." Greg pushed up from the couch, nodding toward the door. "Come on, between me and your shiny new bodyguard, I'm sure we can keep the rest of the Marines from swamping you at the mess."

Alex let out a long breath, before getting up to grab his things. A distraction is exactly what he needed.

Aside from Pilkes' conspicuous absence, things in the city were slowly returning to normal. Sheppard had finally stepped back into a more consistent role at the head of the city, with Lorne doing more of the footwork. Ben Daniels had taken over and restructured in such an efficient manner that there were very few complaints from any of the various scientists whose work had been impacted by both the invasion and Woolsey's meddling.

When it became clear that Alex was going to go utterly stir-crazy, Dr. Beckett had finally approved him to return to the labs on a limited time basis. Once again, Alex was thanking his lucky stars that someone had thought to put Dr. Z in charge of him, because he had a suspicion that Dr. McKay would have caught on to his newfound understanding of Ancient already.

And that was an advantage Alex was going to try to keep close to the chest for as long as possible.

Besides, there were a lot of really interesting things to read in the Ancient database and he had no doubt that McKay would cut off his access as soon as possible.

"Kid."

Alex glanced up and scowled at Braxton. "Not a kid."

"The colonel wants to see you."

Alex huffed, before starting to shut down his station. It had been nearly a week since he had last really seen Sheppard and he had no doubt that if it was this last minute, something had come up. Whether that something was going to be lifechanging this time… well, he would have to see. "Did he say anything else?"

Braxton just stared at him.

Really. He couldn't wait until Greg was back on duty full-time. But that would also require someone to make a decision about Pilkes' future in the city – and that was a whole can of worms that he hadn't gotten any answers on. Nor did he expect to, any time soon.

So, for the time being, he resigned himself to dealing with Braxton's utter curtness.

Alex shoved the last of the crystals he had been working with into the workbench and got up. "Alright, where to?"

Braxton led the way through the city – once again with an unfair ease since he had only been on the city for a few short weeks – down toward a set of labs that were most definitely not Sheppard's office. There was little surprise when the doors opened into a lab where McKay was picking at a set of crystals and Sheppard was leaning slouched against a table.

"Thank you, Captain." Sheppard dismissed Braxton with a wave. "You can rejoin your unit for the rest of the day."

So, likely lifechanging.

Alex dropped into a chair, letting his bag hit the floor unceremoniously. The door slid shut with a sense of finality and Alex felt the locks slide into place. A moment later, the all too familiar buzz of the damper slid over the room and this was obviously a conversation that they wanted no one listening in on.

Almost as soon as the door closed, McKay whipped out a data pad and connected a clear chip. It was unlike anything Alex had seen used previously.

Sheppard dropped into the chair next to Alex, drumming his fingers on the table. "Alright, what've you got?"

McKay sent a glower in Sheppard's direction, before making some decisive taps on the screen. "Our little time anomaly brought some interesting information back with him." He sketched a glance in Alex's direction. "There isn't much, but it's enough to paint a pretty clear picture. And it's not fake."

Pilkes' information. Which was… from the future. "So, he's actually… you know…?"

"Oh, definitely. There's no way he would've managed this without my help."

Alex rolled his eyes. Of course. The tipping point to believability was that the only person who could out-hack McKay was McKay himself. "Right. Okay. So what, now we've got details that tell us the Trust, what, wants me dead?"

"Eh…" Sheppard rocked his hand back and forth. "Not dead, per say. They definitely want to snake you. But that's not what this is about. Apparently." He sent a frustrated glance in McKay's direction.

"I was able to open the drive that contained the files our future selves thought would be helpful. The primary files were related to a little… zat problem we've had lately." He waved that off, before flipping the screen around for Alex and Sheppard to see. "The other files were less robust and it's not clear whether that is because the original file was corrupt or that something has happened in the intervening time. But… if we hadn't already determined you have no memories of these events… I would seriously question who I had worked with these past few years."

Sheppard blew out a long breath at that, before he firmed his jaw. "Okay."

In a display of terrifying tact, McKay cast a quick glance in Alex's direction. "From the little I've seen, these were targeted selections, originally made by the Trust."

Manipulation. If they were anything like the clips carefully chosen and selected by SCORPIA, then Alex had no doubt that the Trust was equally as conniving. Equally as determined to showcase their narrative – whatever that was that would be the most likely to get Alex under their thrall.

McKay pulled up a video, showing a cold and impersonal room. Bare. Clinical. A man sat at a desk, facing away from the camera.

"Commence session #7." A monotone voice cut through the silence, audio staticky with age. "Code name Hunter."

An involuntary shudder passed through Alex at that name. Hunter. His father's code name within SCORPIA – and apparently outside of it as well.

"Subject has been assimilated into his role and is aware of his operational duties. Life of project is estimated to be twelve months. Final project compliance will be assessed, before subject is introduced to his handler."

There was a sharp creak as the door to the room opened and a younger John Sheppard entered. Young. Fresh faced. Unencumbered.

Perhaps the most out of place part was the casual dress. The complete lack of arm bands. The regulation hair.

"Have a seat." The voice had taken on a warmer tone. Eerily familiar. "You're settling in well?"

There was the same cocky grin, but less of a slouch as he sat down on the chair. "Yes, sir." The words sounded clipped. Strange. Like he was putting all the stress on the wrong syllables.

Or the right ones.

If he were British.

Which he wasn't. But…

"Alright, let's start with the basics. What's your name?"

"John Rider." No hesitation, not even a blink. It was as if he utterly believed what he was saying.

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-one."

"How did you end up in jail?"

"I murdered a taxi driver." That earned a twitch. The part of the story that he knew wasn't the truth.

Alex dearly wished for better recording quality, but the film was too grainy and low-lit to read clear facial expressions. It was enough though.

"And your code name?"

"Hunter."

"And your mission?"

"Infiltrate MI6 and pose as an informant for SCORPIA." The cocky grin was back once more, but this time it unnerved Alex.

"Excellent. And your reverber?"

Young Sheppard tapped his chest for a moment, face rippling as it morphed into something else. Someone different. A broader nose, a longer face. Small details that were almost imperceptible on the recording, but matched the few photos Alex had seen of his father.

McKay stopped the recording on a closeup, and Sheppard peered closer. "Alien technology."

"Working alien technology." McKay corrected, zooming in on the vague squiggle on Young Sheppard's chest. "This was years before the Stargate opened. By all accounts, there shouldn't have been a Trust in the first place, much less reliable access to alien technology."

"Do we have record of anything like this?" Sheppard reached out to tap the screen, but McKay yanked it away.

"We haven't cross checked with the SGC database yet, but tentatively yes."

Alex raised a finger in question. "So, what? The Trust was active long before it should have been?"

"The Trust had access to technology they never should have. If they had that in the 80s… it's a wonder they haven't taken over the Stargate program at this point."

And that wasn't concerning.

McKay pulled up another video. "These recordings seem to be taken from a diary log, tracking the progress of their… project."

The same office, this time more brightly lit. But once again, the speaker wasn't visible. "Commence session #14. Hunter has been successful on both aims of the project. Showing no signs of resistance on mission assignments, despite familial situation. Subject reporting for mandatory counseling."

The video shuddered, switching to what could only be a different day.

"Commence session #33. Retraining has been necessary following a mishap on assignment. Distractor known as Cossack has been removed from the equation."

"Commence session #57. Retraining has failed for a third time. Subject's genetics may be incompatible with ongoing refreshers. Subject no longer necessary for secondary objective. Primary objective has failed."

"Commence session #68. Secondary objective achieved. Nearing end of twelve-month service. Code name Gatherer assuming responsibility for secondary objective. Gatherer was a resounding success with no need for retraining in past twelve months. Discarding the peripherals."

The video shuddered again, this time showing the Young Sheppard in the chair once more. But he looked different. Washed out. Unsettled.

"K is dead." There was a touch of amusement to the voice this time.

Young Sheppard didn't even twitch.

"If we didn't need you, you would've been right there next to her. Poetic like. But…" There was a light chuckle. "it's not like you're going to remember any of this later." The man leaned over and pushed a button on his desk, before leaning back in the chair, steepled hands just barely visible.

The screen flickered, silence so quiet Alex could barely breathe.

Then, a door opened.

An indistinct figure, with wavering features, entered. Someone else using their alien devices.

"Escort the project to reprogramming." The man at the desk waved his hand carelessly. "Make sure that the offspring is thoroughly removed. We'll arrange a new wife for him, in the wake of the tragic death of his brother."

Sheppard swore under his breath, before stalking off to the far side of the room, looking eerily like someone that needed to punch something. Or someone.

Dr. McKay closed out of the video and chewed nervously on his lip. "That's not all…"

"And what more?" Sheppard made a furious gesture toward the datapad. "What else could they… possibly have done." He ran a hand through his hair and yanked. "Nancy, Rodney. Nancy."

There was some sort of inflection on that name, some significance that Alex didn't understand. Whatever it was… seemed worse than the whole wiping memory thing they had going on.

McKay's lips pressed into a thin line. "You hated her."

"Not. The. Point." Sheppard grit out. "They used her. And I've just… been their puppet. For decades!"

"Woah, hey." McKay threw a half-panicked glance in Alex's direction. "Maybe save the existential crisis for O'Neill. You can commiserate on how this project fucked you both over."

Sheppard seemed to deflate. "Right."

Alex glanced between the two of them. "Project?"

McKay waved Sheppard back to a chair. "ASPIRE."

Alex could almost feel the capitalization.

"It was started in the 80s, headed up by… Malcolm Barrett. It was shuttered just before the NID came into existence. Other than that… you'll have to wait for the report from the SGC. They were… secretive."

Which made sense if they had access to alien technology that technically shouldn't have existed on the planet at that point. Of course, that begged the question of how they had gotten it in the first place.

"So secretive that they wipe the memory of anyone involved with it," Sheppard muttered, before dragging a hand across his face. "Alright, so where does this leave us?"

"Well… it confirms that you were present in the project at the right time and based on Barrett's comments in the recordings… it matches the timeline that Jackson has pieced together."

"Jackson?" Sheppard raised a quizzical eyebrow.

McKay sniffed imperiously. "He had nothing better to do."

Alex slumped back in his chair, chewing on his lip. It seemed that SCORPIA had just been the tip of the iceberg. And that MI6 had had the wool pulled over their eyes as well. But governmental agencies up against literal alien technology that should have never existed… there was no contest.

"I'll send this through to Jackson on the next secure data burst and…" McKay shrugged, looking put out that he didn't have better answers. "Hopefully they'll have more information in return. But there's documented reason to believe they had access to alien technology and clearly didn't… intend for you to remember."

There were explanations now for the details that had never added up. Explanations for a memory wipe so clean that no one had ever suspected Sheppard was missing a year's worth of memories. Perhaps even an explanation for why he had such clear memories of the time he had spent working on his thesis.

But what had stopped them from using that exact same technology on him?

Surely over the past two years there had been plenty of opportunities. Places where they could've grabbed him and no one would have been the wiser.

Why now?

"And the Trust?" Alex asked.

Sheppard glanced over at him, careful mask of controlled calm coming back into place. "That's in the SGC's hands. For now, personnel transfers are halted for a thorough review and the IOA has been removed from controlling day-to-day operations. Daniels is heading up the review here." There was almost a note of bitterness to his voice and Alex hesitated to ask what exactly Ben had done to receive Sheppard's ire. "Changes will be made and not everyone is going to be happy."

And wasn't that the truth.

A/N: And we're back! Hopefully. Life has been… busy. And somehow, we're almost at the end of summer, which means the craziness of the school year is coming quickly. I'll do my best to update, but I've got a new class I'm teaching, so things are going to be a bit hectic on my end.