The Fairy
Prompt was: let's give Sheppard some weather whump!
It took a long time for me to write this story, but it was a wonderful challenge and it turned out to be the longest story I ever wrote in English.
Thank you, my loyal betas joaniexjony and mrscopterdoc! HUGS
Author: Libero
Fandom: SGA
Characters: John Sheppard
Rating: G
Word count: 7620
The Fairy*
This was a wild dream. He was floating through water as if he was flying. His face wet, hair plastered to his head and creeping plants touching his naked arms and legs. Every once in a while some myopic fish crossed his path and knocked against his temples.
John Sheppard wasn’t enjoying this dream. He desperately wanted to wake up, open his eyes, feel the soothing vibrations of Atlantis and snuggle deeper into his soft, dry blankets.
All of a sudden something sharp pierced into his forehead, leaving a bloody gash when resuming its way.
“Crap”, he gurgled and swallowed a mouthful of salt water.
This dream sucked big time.
He concentrated on opening his eyes.
It shouldn't be so hard, should it?
He'd done it at least once a day for over 40 years now.
Why was it so hard this time?
If this really was a dream, how was it possible to feel so tired or experience pain? Something wasn't quite right with this situation.
Raise eyelids, he ordered himself. Open eyes!
He groaned, spilling more water down his throat. John struggled and managed to drag his eyes open. He peeked out through the slits.
This wasn't a dream at all …
John saw grey: dark, watery and somewhat blurry grey - water?!
Realization hit. His face was drooping under water. John jerked his head up and let out a yell, as all the physical sensations were crashing over him.
He wasn't only tired and not in his bed, he was soaking wet, floating in water and aching all over. The gash above his right eye was still bleeding, his back hurt like hell and both of his arms were in pain, hanging uselessly under water.
Yet something wasn't quite right. He should be sinking like a stone, but instead he was floating nearly without effort.
He looked right then left and saw a piece of something sticking out from under his armpit. It was grey.
Of course, grey seemed to be the fashionable color nowadays.
Despite his head hurting and the tiredness growing, his weary brain grasped at a memory. He knew this design. This grey material was soft to the touch but very strong. It was made to last ten thousand years and longer.
Was it Wraith?
John tried to remember what had happened to him, but nothing resurfaced from his tired brain. Thinking made him dizzy and he decided to rest for a while. Maybe after a nap he would be able to figure out why he happened to be here in the middle of an ocean, lying on a Wraith lifebelt. His last conscious thought was: 'It would be good not to drown' and his last rational action was to shift the grey thing, so that he could lay down his head.
Then grey blurred to black.
-------------
"How long since his last status message?"
Dr. Elizabeth Weir was nervous. Her shoulders were tense and she flexed her fingers again and again while pacing up and down the control room.
Peter Grodin was sitting at the crystal control panel, concern clearly visible on his face. He had nothing but bad news.
"Almost 5 hours. Colonel Sheppard was just reaching the mainland - which means our main scanner. We saw him for about 10 minutes, enough time to reach the coast, then … nothing."
Elizabeth forced herself to keep her hands still.
"But why did the scanner lose him? Even if he …"
She trembled and wrapped both arms around her body.
"If he … crashed, we would still be able to sense his transmitter."
"Hm."
"What?"
It irritated her that Peter looked even more worried than he did a few minutes before.
"There's a storm around the city. A huge cold front has reached the ocean and formed some kind of cover right above the water. Nothing will get through it."
"And how long will the cover take to vanish?"
Elizabeth knew she wasn't making any sense, but she had to try. Peter needed to give her something to keep her strong.
"I honestly don't know, Dr. Weir. The atmospheric layers have to mix properly."
"Ok. So we wait?"
"We wait."
-------------
The Queen's Wraith growl was bloodcurdling and the Drone in front of her ducked his head another 5 inches.
The temperature in this part of the Hive ship dropped from 34° to -10° as the Queen stood up and invaded his personal space.
"Just to clarify things …"
She pointed her right index finger at him, her arm shaking so that her jewelry rattled.
"We started our culling on a nearly deserted planet, that was once a very promising feeding ground, then we were able to capture our worst enemy, this arrogant Colonel Sheppard, and we LOST him?"
The Drone started to explain: "We …"
"Shut up!"
She screeched and spit into his face.
"You're a miserable failure. Sheppard got off this ship in a STOLEN Dart."
Furiously she punched her fist, rings sparkling at every single finger, right into his face.
He staggered but did not fall. If he would have fallen, he would have been dead within a second.
--------------
When another hour passed in unnerving inaction, Elizabeth decided to pay the infirmary a visit. As she turned to tell Peter, she saw him stifle a yawn. He looked up at her wearing a sheepish expression. The small number of people working in the control room was on their last legs. Elizabeth had lost count of the hours they'd worked without a break.
As long as their leader was still walking, they would somehow go on. She knew they wouldn't give up trying to find the colonel.
“Get something to eat and maybe a coffee too - you can’t do anything here”, Peter suggested.
Elizabeth nodded and looked around at the grey faces with dark circles under their eyes, then back to Peter.
“I’ll get you a sandwich and a cup of tea.”
That’s not what he’d meant, but he only smiled at her and looked back to his screen. The cold front on display formed some kind of cheese cover over the water.
Hmmm, blue green Stilton …
His stomach growled.
The doors to the sick bay slid open and Elizabeth was once again overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people using any available space. People were lying on makeshift beds in the corridor, sitting and lying on blankets on the ground and occupying every single chair or seat. The most serious cases were resting on hospital beds and stretchers.
It was pure chaos.
They never had so many casualties in Atlantis.
Thanks to colonel Sheppard, the evacuation of Cresda went almost as planned. He and his team had spent 4 days on the planet, supported by several units and all of their jumpers.
When the culling began, most of the residents were safe on the mainland.
Everybody else had got involved in something that major Lorne later referred to as 'Wraith wrath'.
Elizabeth sighed when she recalled the endless list of wounded on Dr. Beckett's short report. 75 easy to moderate wounded and 16 critical cases, Teyla and Rodney among them.
And one still missing … Elizabeth added deep in thought.
----------------
He had to stand in the cold a long time while the Queen ordered her scientists, technicians and pilots to report to her throne. At the end she decided what course to take and dismissed the underlings.
At last she turned to him again.
"You", she hissed and rose to her impressive height.
He snapped out of his brooding to look into her face. He wanted to show strength until the last moment of his life.
"Go after him. I wish him recaptured and killed - in this order. You find him, you bring him to me, you'll live."
There was no need for more words.
The Drone considered bowing then thought otherwise and left. He knew that his Queen would never let him live, no matter what the outcome. So he made up his mind to take his own life.
But not before he'd made the Queen proud of him again.
As long as he'd served under this Queen, he'd always wanted to be recognized by her. So he'd stood in the frontline for reconnaissance flights. He'd defended the Hive and had never missed a single culling.
He knew what he would need to do to make himself remembered.
He would destroy colonel Sheppard and as much of Atlantis as he possibly could.
------------------
John regained consciousness, shaking with cold.
This time he had no problems opening his eyes, because his ribcage and back were hurting so much. He desperately wanted to know what had hit him.
He knew all would be grey again, but this time his vision was clearer so he could see the horizon.
Was there a ship?
Did they go out by ship to search for him?
But there was no ship in Atlantis or at the mainland. The Athosians were hunters and traders but no fishermen and this was no fisher boat at all. It was a three-master, no sails were hoisted and it was moving very slowly.
Ok, so if it wasn't the Atlantis sea - where was he?
John didn't know of another planet in the Pegasus galaxy with an ocean. But there could be one, of course.
And probably the ship was about to leave its harbor, setting sails and coming his way. There was hope.
John trembled harder when another thought crossed his mind. The ship might just be calling into port.
No hope at all …
Tiredness crept back into his bones. Drifting uselessly through the water, slowly dying of thirst and ending up as fish food wasn't the kind of end he'd ever considered.
As a soldier he'd always thought that he would get killed in action. Hell, there had been enough situations that could have been his death.
Suddenly he thought of his team.
Rodney would be onto his case, no question. It was possible that they'd long since detected his transmitter, had come to this planet and had chartered a ship.
The image of Ronon at the wheel commanding the sailors, Rodney complaining about the spray ruining his tablet and Teyla standing at the bow like Kate Winslet looking out for him, made him smile like an idiot.
"Gah …"
His head hurt.
John once again looked at the ship. He wanted to wipe his eyes, but couldn't move his arms.
"What the …"
The ship had altered course and it was definitely setting out to sea. But it wasn't THAT ship, was it? He only saw two masts now and the front one definitely was under sail.
He wondered if the cold and pain were confusing his senses.
Anyway, there was a ship and he had to try to get into its course and make himself noticed.
His arms were useless, but he still could paddle with his legs. After all he was a decent swimmer. He'd never lost a swimming competition against his brother.
So paddling it was.
It turned out to be a bad idea.
Moving his legs upwards felt like being sliced from toe to head with one of Ronon's swords. John let out a deep groan and his body collapsed.
--------------
Approaching Atlantis from space was insanity, but the Drone wasn't left with another option. He knew the way to his target.
A year and a half ago, he had flown in the strike to destroy Atlantis. They had been close to victory when suddenly the huge battleship had appeared out of hyperspace and the city's shield came up.
The Drone took a firmer grip on the control stick and let murderous rage float through his body.
Again he looked up the results of his latest scan. There was nothing unusual above the land, but what he saw on the ocean was very promising. A strange atmospheric situation with humid warm air right above the water and cold dry air covering the whole sea. This was something that could help him fly to Atlantis undetected.
All he needed to do was slide his Dart as close as possible to the water surface …
---------------
Dr. Carson Beckett walked towards Elizabeth with a very agitated Ronon in tow. The Satedan was sporting a head bandage and an angry red stitched up wound on his forearm. Elizabeth assumed that this wound had been bandaged too, but knowing Ronon well, she was surprised that he'd let the doctor suture it at all.
"How is Sheppard? Did he make it home?"
Ronon had walked in front of Carson and was now standing right in front of her, demanding answers.
Elizabeth swallowed her words when she saw Carson's angry face.
He said with a low menacing voice: "It's enough now, Ronon. I told you I'd come and tell you the news as soon as I've spoken to Elizabeth. You need to stay in bed. So …"
"I need to …"
Ronon suddenly staggered and Carson grabbed his left arm, crying for help. When two nurses reached them, the doctor was relieved and let him go. If Ronon had collapsed he would've had no chance to catch him.
"Take him back to bed please", he told the nurses, but before they left, Elizabeth took pity and said: "I'm sorry, Ronon, we haven't heard from him yet. There's a storm outside so we can't do much. Please try to rest. Carson will tell you when we know more."
The big man looked defeated. He grumbled something that sounded like 'Ok' before he was slowly escorted back to his bed.
Carson sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.
She saw how exhausted he was. Two and a half days of working non-stop had taken it's toll. 'Double shift' wasn't the right expression for what the medical personnel were doing here. It was working ad-infinitum if required and never giving up.
"I don't think I've ever seen Ronon sway", she said somewhat lightly.
The doctor looked at her, wearing a wry smile.
"He'd already keeled over twice before, that's why I want him in his bed. I don't have the personnel to constantly keep him upright."
"Concussion?"
"Aye. The wound at his temple knocked him out for a few hours, but he isn't in a bad way. 24 hours from now, he will be as good as new."
"How about Teyla and Rodney?"
"Teyla came through the surgery very well. She's still heavily sedated to help with her recovery. We fixed her broken tibia and used some artificial skin on her thigh. Provided there isn't any infection, she should make a full recovery."
Elizabeth knew how tricky burns could be and hoped for Teyla to get through it soon.
"And Rodney?"
Carson sighed again and continued: "The last scans came back promising. The swelling and therefore the pressure on his brain have declined, but he's still in a coma. We replaced the blood he'd lost through his arm wounds, but … his condition is still critical."
Elizabeth asked about the other patients in serious condition then told the doctor about their missing military commander.
"As soon as the weather allows, I'll send out two jumpers to search the ocean and the mainland. We hope that our scanner will pick up his transmitter signal."
Carson could hear her voice trembling and see her eyes glistening with unshed tears. They all were tired out and worried sick about the colonel.
John was essential to Atlantis, to the people who worked here and in the battle against the Wraith. He was essential to his friends and especially for Elizabeth who relied on him.
He had to live.
--------------
He was stiff all over. The position on his Wraith life-saver hadn't changed for what seemed like years and the pain had dimmed down to a dull ache.
Had the cold helped to numb the pain?
John went on with his physical inventory. He was cold and thirsty - which just about summed it up.
He wanted water so badly that he began to dream about the fountain in his high school. It was cool and refreshing …
He was cold. Every part of his body that wasn't under water was exposed to the chilling breeze. His hair had dried and the skin of his face felt like sandpaper.
Suddenly he remembered the ship and he looked around frantically.
Nothing.
The ship was gone.
He had been out too long and the ship had sailed away.
The tiredness and discouragement threatened to overwhelm him. Tears stung his eyes, but he swallowed them - there was already enough saltwater.
John realized he should have crashed the Dart on the mainland. His death would have been quick and relatively easy.
Dart?
He'd flown a Dart.
His memories came back and he couldn't suppress a bitter laugh. How ironic to remember all this just before dying.
The culling.
Most of the people were rescued before the war began.
He'd done his best, they all had, but then he'd been captured and taken on a Hive Ship. He'd been lucky. For once he'd been relatively unscathed and the two Drones who'd brought him in had been the most stupid ones in the Pegasus galaxy.
The escape from the Hive in a Dart had gone smoothly. He recalled remembering how to reach the mainland and he knew he had contacted Atlantis.
He didn't know he'd had a tail but realized there must have been one. John remembered the impact of the missile and the moment the Dart had tumbled down.
So why was he still alive?
Why hadn’t the enemy made sure he’d died?
He would have.
Another shivering attack coursed through his body, ending in a coughing fit.
So he was at the Atlantis sea after all.
What was the problem with localizing him, sending a jumper and picking him up?
It shouldn't take Rodney more than a minute to figure out where he was.
Rodney … his team … Lorne … all his marines …
Where were they?
What if … there was no one?
Atlantis' finest had been on Cresda to fight the Wraith. What if they lost?
There had been no time to ask Elizabeth about them before his Dart had crashed.
John didn't feel the tears running down his face.
There was no more feeling, no pain, no thirst.
Ice.
Ice was all that was left inside and outside of him.
-----------
"Dr. Weir to the control room, please."
Peter Grodin's voice startled Elizabeth, as she was standing deep in thought in the middle of the mess hall, a tray of food in her hands.
She hurried to the transporter and stood next to Peter only 2 minutes later.
"Good news, Peter?"
He watched her setting down the tray so hard that his tea spilled over the wrapped sandwiches.
Ignoring his gnawing hunger, he pointed out to the display.
"The storm has ceased and our scanner …"
An incoming message from the mainland interrupted him and Peter put them through.
"… couldn't contact … storm … tried because … single Dart … shot with the new weapon, Colonel Sheppard introduced us to. Toran out."
The static died down and the words 'Dart' and 'shot' rang through Elizabeth's ears. Her stricken expression matched the faces around her.
She made a gesture to Peter that she wanted to speak.
"Toran, please come in. Part of your message was lost to static. Say again."
"Dr. Weir, we couldn't contact you for several hours because of the storm. We tried to warn you about a single Dart flying very low over the mainland, heading towards Atlantis. We fired a shot with the new weapon, Colonel Sheppard introduced us to."
Peter sucked in some air and uttered: "The AT4 …"
Elizabeth felt cold right to the bones. Sheppard … John …
"Did you hit the Dart?"
"We did, Dr. Weir."
There was pride in Toran's voice.
"The Dart was on fire when it went down into the sea."
-------------
The scanner had picked up a signal just off the coast and Elizabeth sent out two jumpers, each with two soldiers. They were her last pilots and medical trained marines.
Meanwhile it was nearly dark, so they had to wait a long time to receive the first report. Word came back they had found pieces from the Dart and had traced them back in direction to the coast.
Finally after another hour there was the news they all were anticipating.
"We found him, Dr. Weir. He's on board of jumper two now. ETA in 15 minutes."
Elizabeth's heart began to race. "How is he?"
"His first question was 'what took you guys so long?'"
All people in the control room were laughing hysterically. So was Elizabeth.
"Bring him home, Sergeant."
"Yes, ma'am."
Turning the jumper towards Atlantis, the last thing, Sergeant Markham saw was a great fire on the coast.
------------
When the Drone reached the mainland he reduced altitude and tried to keep the Dart just above the trees.
He was a good pilot and normally he wouldn't forget about checking the controls constantly, but he was focused on his goal and how his achievement would make the Queen think well of him.
He knew that he would never be her favorite. At least he would die knowing he had pleased her at last.
The other warriors would speak of him, remember him for what he did. He would become a legend and live on in their memories.
He reached the Athosian settlement faster than he'd expected and prepared to go down further, skimming the coast and water surface.
It was dark outside the settlement so he saw the grenade illuminating the sky before it hit. It smashed into the Dart, sending him to the ground in flames.
"Sheppard!" he cried out, cursing his name, until the fire had completely engulfed him.
------------
The short flight, a fully opened heating system and two blankets hadn't been sufficient to warm him up, but when the jumper door opened in the bay, he stood up by himself and presented his best Sheppard grin.
Taking a last swig off the water bottle he threw it aside and walked towards Elizabeth. He saw that she had been crying, but now she was smiling at him.
"Colonel Sheppard. It's so good to have you back, safe and sound."
He enjoyed her embrace and thought - home, I'm really home again.
"It's good to be back, Elizabeth. What about my team, the marines … are they Ok?"
She let him go and examined him from head to toe. He looked like hell. Hair messier then ever, a bloody wound over his right eye and the man dripping wet. But he was on his feet, and the most important thing - he was back. He looked gorgeous.
"We have a lot of wounded, but fortunately no one died. Rodney and Teyla are seriously injured, but Ronon is mostly Ok. You'll see for yourself when you report to the infirmary."
"So the welcome home party is over?"
"I'm afraid so. Dr. Beckett is anxious to get you under the scanner."
"Ok."
John sighed theatrical, limped forward a few steps and turned around again.
"But we're having a couple beers soon, promise?"
"Alright, I promise."
She had not failed to notice the limp.
"Do you need a wheelchair?"
"Nah, just some back pain. I can walk."
When the doors of the transporter closed, his old friend Dizzy came back and forced him to lean against the wall to avoid falling down.
Great idea to refuse assistance …
John was thankful for the short ride to the infirmary and made his painful way through the populated hallway. The soldiers who weren't sleeping greeted him smiling, some gave him the thumbs up when he asked them how they were doing.
He had never seen so many patients in Atlantis' sick bay.
Walking was almost impossible now. He shuffled along, his right leg burning. The pain in his back and chest nearly taking his breath away.
When he saw a nurse rushing through the chaos, he rasped "Where's Beckett?"
"He's in surgery with an emergency. Just sit down somewhere. I'll send someone to look at that gash over your eye."
"Thanks."
He'd almost forgotten about the gash.
Sit down somewhere.
He liked the idea, but there wasn't a seat and there was no chance that he would be able to rise up from the ground again.
John's vision began to blur and he tumbled against a door that opened to a supply room. It was dark but the light beam from the hallway fell onto a silver transport case.
He sank down, groaning in agony when his legs made contact with the solid material of the box.
Closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the shelf with clean towels he thought: I can wait a little while longer. Easy as …
He was out before his body went limp and he crashed onto the floor.
Peter Grodin received another message from the Athosians while Dr. Weir was with the colonel. It was from Toran. He was worried. They had seen another single Dart.
"They could be spies, looking for the best way to attack Atlantis."
"No, they're not spies", Peter reassured him.
"How do you know? They had no interest in the mainland, they were heading directly for Atlantis."
Peter had talked to Elizabeth about the fact the Athosians - accidently of course - had shot down the colonel. They had to learn about it eventually.
"Colonel Sheppard was in the first Dart. I'm assuming that the second Dart was following him to try and kill him."
There was a long pause at the other end, then Toran asked in a quivering voice: "Colonel Shep … Sheppard was … in the Dart, I …"
The Colonel was highly respected among the Athosians and Peter had compassion for this young man, who he knew admired Sheppard.
"You couldn’t have known, Toran. In this situation you did the right thing. Colonel Sheppard will tell you just the same."
"He … he survived?"
"Yes, he did. We found him and he seems Ok except for some minor injuries."
It took him a few more minutes to calm the young man and to talk him out of the idea to come to Atlantis right away.
After scrubbing his hands and gulping down two glasses of water, Dr. Beckett touched his micro to speak to Dr. Weir.
"Rodney is out of the OR, Elizabeth. We got him stabilized again, but it was touch-and-go for a while. He's in ICU again."
He heard the exhaustion in his voice himself and quickly did the math. Three days without sleep and a decent meal. If he didn't get both soon, he would be a casualty himself.
"How is the Colonel?"
"Colonel Sheppard is back?"
"Yes, they found him 2 hours ago. He seemed to be relatively well, apart from a bloody scratch on his forehead and some back pain he complained about. I sent him straight to the infirmary."
"Aye … well … I'm only out the OR a few minutes. I'll go look for him and report back to you."
"Thanks, Carson. I'll be down there soon."
Half an hour later, after they'd searched the whole infirmary and asked every member of the medical personnel, they got together in Carson's office.
Colonel Sheppard wasn't in the infirmary.
"Cheeky bugger."
Carson rubbed one hand through his hair and Elizabeth saw that it stood up almost almost as much as Sheppard's.
"You said that he was feeling Ok?"
"He seemed Ok. He was cold of course. Soaking wet and tired, but apart from that …"
"Perhaps he went to his quarters to change into something warm and dry. Then, being tired and all, he crashed on his bed. That would be very Sheppard."
"Could be. He rarely does what is expected of him."
Elizabeth smiled and tapped on her earpiece.
"Is someone close to Colonel Sheppard's quarters?"
"I am, ma'am", answered captain Howard.
"Take a look into his room and send the Colonel to the infirmary ASAP."
"Yes, ma'am."
Suddenly a shrill yelp was heard and something clattered on the floor.
Carson was out on the hallway in a matter of seconds, heading to the storage room where several people were standing.
What he saw in the strong neon light alarmed him. He couldn’t blame Rosalie for crying and dropping the kidney dishes she had been looking for.
Colonel Sheppard was curled up in front of a transport case lying in a huge pool of blood. His face was almost grey and his breathing sounded labored and congested.
"Gurney, STAT!" ordered Carson. "Take him to the OR!"
Here she was again, sitting and waiting for the doctors to bring the good news. Or the bad …
Next to Elizabeth sat Ronon in a wheelchair. She had informed him about the colonel and he had insisted he would wait with her.
It took a long time to stabilize the barely living patient. John was dehydrated, suffering from hypothermia and massive blood loss.
It took hours before they were able to perform the necessary surgery.
Carson and his colleagues removed a 3 inch long piece from the Dart out of John's right thigh. It had caused the bleeding. Thankfully, lying in cold water for so long had slowed down the blood flow.
There were two broken ribs and the deep gash over his right eye.
He also had bruised kidneys, countless hematomas on both arms but the concussion would heal over the course of time. Unfortunately he had developed pneumonia, but Carson hoped for a full recovery.
He couldn't speak to Elizabeth though, because a few minutes after the surgery, Dr. Beckett collapsed and became a patient himself.
He was put to bed with an IV and ordered to rest for the next 10 hours.
-----------
"You always have to have the last word, Sheppard, don't you? That's not a likable trait, you know? I was VERY sick. In a coma for over a week with pressure to my brain. Do you hear me? Pressure … to my BRAIN! I could have ended brain dead or worse."
"Shhhh."
Rodney looked around and hunched his shoulders while the young doctor only shook his head.
He placed his chair closer to John's bed and resumed his complaints.
"You proved your point, Sheppard. You can stay longer in a coma then anybody else in Atlantis. You happy now? It's only annoying though, speaking to the living dead. Wake up!"
He shook Sheppard's arm and was about to shake harder when Ronon and Teyla came into the room.
The Satedan was behind Rodney like a flash and caught his arm in mid-air.
"Stop it, McKay. You'll only hurt him."
"Hurt him?" Rodney was insulted.
"If that hurts, my cat would have snarled continually."
"He's no cat, Rodney. And Ronon is right, you may hurt him, because he's still very fragile. We're all frustrated that he wouldn't wake up."
Teyla carefully placed her crutches at the edge of John's bed and sat down on the second chair.
"Frustrated is an understated expression for my feelings. Carson told us that he's doing better day by day, but I can't see it. He still needs all this equipment and a nurse round the clock."
"But he does not need the respirator anymore."
Teyla tried to lighten the mood.
John had been in a coma for more then three weeks now. For the first two he had been on the respirator and several other machines she didn't know by name. When they were finally allowed to see him, they had all been shocked at how bad he looked. John looked so frail that they very much doubted Carson's assurance that he was on the mend. It had looked like their friend had been on his farewell tour - yet he was still holding on.
Carson and Elizabeth entered the room, placing themselves at the bottom of John's bed.
"I'm glad you're all here, so we can take the opportunity to have a little informal meeting."
They all glanced at Elizabeth in their newly characteristic stance. Ronon was overprotective, Teyla appeared a little nervous and Rodney was more intolerable as usual. Carson was suspiciously cheerful. She, as the leader of Atlantis, was trying to hold it all together.
She was glad to have them all here with John. She wanted to make them feel that they, along with Carson, were still a team. They were John's team. She still wanted to reassure them John would recover. He was still their military commander.
"I'm happy to tell you things have improved thanks to the devoted work of the medical department. All of those with minor injuries are either back in their quarters or already working again.
The number of the badly wounded has dropped to 2, including the colonel.
The Cresdans have been relocated on PX-9217 and Stargate Command is very pleased how we have managed the crisis."
When nobody threw confetti or shouted 'hooray', Carson rose to speak.
"I know that you're all worried about the Colonel, but he's fighting like I had expected him to do. His wounds and ribs are healing nicely and antibiotics have finally taken care of his pneumonia."
"But he's still in a coma."
"Yes, Rodney, he is. The Colonel's very weak, but I ordered a new locomotor system to help improve his muscles and strength. The Daedalus will ship it in tomorrow."
"Ship."
The croaking startled them and they looked expectantly at John's face.
He hadn't moved, but when Rodney asked "What ship?" he whispered "There was a ship."
The doctor took his pulse and talked to him quietly.
"Can you open your eyes, John? Your team is here. Elizabeth too. We would all really like to see your eyes."
John recalled how tough this eye-opening task had felt the last time. Now he felt better. The pain wasn't too bad either. He decided to give it a try.
"Hey, that's great. You're doing well, John."
A smiling Carson came into his field of vision, then Elizabeth, Teyla, Ronon and Rodney. The latter looked grumpier than ever.
The colonel was confused. He couldn't think of something he'd done wrong.
"'M sorry."
It couldn't hurt to say that.
"What are you sorry about?" Elizabeth was puzzled.
"Hiding in that closet? I must have dozed off … it wasn't intentional."
"It's Ok. Nobody is going to blame you. You couldn't help being sick."
Elizabeth had walked to his side and had taken his left hand into hers. When John squeezed her fingers, it was like all her wishes had become true.
"What ship?"
Of course, Rodney wouldn't let this slip.
"When I floated in the ocean, there was a ship. Really big ship - a three-master, sailing slowly towards me."
Rodney looked at him horrified. John had lost it. They would never go through the Stargate again with him. He would be sent home, to harass the nurses at some looney bin on Earth.
When there was no response, John took back his hand and closed his eyes. He felt like a fool. Rodney had looked at him as if he'd lost it.
The rest had tried to hide it, but they'd all traded bewildered looks. When John didn't open his eyes again, Carson sent them out.
"Give the Colonel a little time to rest. You can come back tomorrow."
John was relieved when they left. He was exhausted, but when he sensed the doctor adjusting his IV, he opened his eyes a crack and murmured "Thank you, Carson."
"You're welcome."
"I'm not nuts, you know? There really was a ship."
"Sure, son. If you say so, I believe you."
John heard the forced conviction in Carson's voice but for now, he let it go.
-----------
"He's completely nuts, crazy, gone bananas … there never was a ship on the Atlantis sea!"
John's team members were sitting in Teyla's room with some coffee and dessert from lunch. Teyla, propped up in her bed, was worried but she was ready to give her team leader the benefit of doubt.
"John is not nuts. We should take his memories serious and let him explain what he saw."
"Oh well, support the loopy with their delusion. Great idea."
Rodney fiddled with his tablet computer.
"Why are you so aggressive?" Ronon was disappointed that Sheppard had been so subdued. Normally his friend was joking after bouncing back from the edge of death and suggesting a sparring match. He didn't like the quiet Sheppard.
"Aggressive? You call ME aggressive? I'm realistic. Here …" He showed them his computer screen with a three-master ship under sail.
"Look at this and tell me, who would have built something like this and thrown it through space right into our sea."
Ronon leaned forward and examined the photo.
"I've never seen anything like it."
"Ha." Rodney lifted his head and smirked.
Teyla was lost in thought. Her friends were right of course. It was impossible that such a ship had appeared out of nowhere. But she couldn't believe that John had gone insane. He was the military leader of Atlantis, a great soldier and a dear friend.
John was still very sick. It was possible he'd seen the ship in a nightmare or had imagined it while lying in the icy water believing he would die.
Teyla decided she would speak to him and try to find out the truth.
Elizabeth's thoughts were very similar. She sat in her office, undecided what to write into her report for Stargate Command.
She didn't want to believe John was a confused colonel, unable to distinguish between reality and imagination.
Their friendship had become strong over the time they'd been working closely together. He was the only one who could make her feel safe solely on account of his presence and he always was the first person she thought of when she had to discuss personal and official matters.
She needed him. She needed him to be the old John again.
With a deep sigh she opened her laptop.
She would write a short notice about Sheppard's recovery. She would only reveal the details by request.
Later she would talk to John again and try to find out the truth.
----------
It was in his job description to care, but this time Carson worried about his favorite patient a great deal.
Normally he had to throw out visitors on a regular basis, but this time the colonel had been left pretty much alone. There was too much time for him to think, to get depressed and to feel abandoned.
Toran had come to visit and ask for forgiveness. The young man was full of guilt, but had left feeling better after he'd learned the colonel held no grudge against him. In the contrary, John praised his courage and alertness.
Rodney and Ronon hadn't visited again after their informal meeting on the day John had woken for the first time. That was 4 days ago.
Teyla came once but had left after only half an hour. He couldn't blame her. The colonel had only given one word answers.
Elizabeth visited every afternoon. She sat by his bed for one or two hours, speaking little but showing that she cared.
Carson knew that John longed for this time with her.
He was depressed, yes, but if Elizabeth had abandoned him too, he would be devastated.
As his doctor, Carson was satisfied with his recovery. He could go to the bathroom by himself and did his exercises with the "Locomotive" regularly.
He smiled inwardly. No matter how depressed - John Sheppard would always name things.
When Elizabeth left for the day, Carson went to his patient and checked his bandages.
"How are you feeling, John?"
"I'm Ok, Carson, thanks. A little tired."
Not even once had the colonel asked when he was allowed to leave the infirmary, to get rid of the IV or could start to work again. It wasn't like him.
"Do you want to talk?"
"About what?"
"Uh … ships?"
John let out a low groan.
"No, not really, but …" He dragged one finger along the new scar above his right eye.
"I wish someone would finally say it aloud."
Carson waited. Maybe the colonel would unburden himself. He was relieved when he continued.
"That … that I've lost it. That I've gone haywire. That I …"
His voice was suddenly only a hoarse whisper.
"That I won't be allowed to lead my team anymore …"
He choked, rolled to the side and curled up like a frightened child.
"You could always speak to Dr. Heightmeyer."
"Yeah, sure." John spat out. "That would seal it then."
"No, I don't think that you're delusional. She will say the same thing. But you have to trust yourself again. You need to show them you're still John Sheppard. Don't wait for them to come and speak to you. Go to them - or better, get in a wheelchair and find them. Speak to them. Show them they can still trust you."
"How?"
He wasn't actually whining, was he?
"Like you always do, Colonel! Just remember your strength."
Carson left quietly, leaving him a bunch of things to consider and think about.
John hauled up the "Locomotive", put his legs into the treadles and started to think.
Two hours later he had his plan of action ready.
First thing in the morning - shrink talk. Ugh, that promised to become the highlight of the week.
Second - talk to Elizabeth, ask, if she was willing to let him resume his work as military commander.
Third - talk to his team … and listen …
He was bone tired. He went to the bathroom to take care of business and changed into a pair of new sweatpants. Despite his troubled thoughts, sleep would come easily this night.
As soon as he was snuggled up in bed again, the door crashed open and Rodney rushed to the bed, waving his tablet computer.
"There WAS a ship. For crying out loud, there WAS a ship!"
"Welcome to my world, Rodney."
"Huh? Yeah, whatever."
He threw the computer onto John's bed, letting himself flop on the chair.
"Did you know that you experienced a fairly unusual atmospheric condition out there, swimming in the sea?"
"No, I was busy trying to stay alive."
"Haha, funny. Do you remember it being very hot the last weeks before Cresda?"
"Rodney, please stop asking dumb questions and just spill it."
John crossed his arms and looked slightly amused at the agitated scientist. He was delighted to see his friend again, but he wouldn't tell him that.
"Ok, it was very hot 5 or 6 weeks in a row. You wore shorts on your free day … ahem, something I'm not keen on seeing again, by the way."
"Rodney!"
"Right. So it was cloudless and hot through the whole evacuation days until the last day when it began to get very humid."
When John opened his mouth to say something about meteorology to be a fascinating topic, but what the hell had it to do with him seeing a sailing ship, Rodney raised his hand and continued.
"On the day you crashed the Dart into the ocean, the sea and air were still unusually warm. That's actually the reason why you survived in the water so long."
Rodney stopped for a moment to think about what he'd just said. It still was a miracle that John hadn't frozen to death.
"Anyway, right before you crashed, a huge cold front reached Atlantis, a storm began and the cold, dry air formed some kind of shield above the water. Tada."
The scientist grinned and looked up to John who sat there, more puzzled then before.
"And this is important why exactly?"
"Look at this, Mensa boy."
Rodney gave him the computer and John studied the screen for several minutes. Then he looked right into Rodney's eyes.
"A Fata Morgana? Are you sure?"
"Hundred percent. It's a well-known phenomenon not only in the desert but also at sea. You even can see it, driving on the highway, when the sky is reflected on the hot asphalt, looking like water."
John let the words sink in. A Fata Morgana … a well-known phenomenon … a weather pattern.
He wasn't crazy at all.
"So … you believe me then?"
Rodney fiddled with the blanket, his heart beating in his throat.
"It means a lot that you came and told me about this. Thanks, Rodney."
John's words let him blush with shame.
"I'm really sorry, John. Of course I believe you", he croaked.
"I wanted to believe you all the time, but I was afraid, that …"
"Me too. Let's forget it and look forward. Have you had dinner already?"
"Uh no, actually I'm starved."
Rodney gave him a lopsided grin.
"You know, all that weather research really wore me out. But it's physics after all."
He shrugged, then rolled his eyes and when John began to laugh, he couldn't contain himself any longer and burst into a spontaneous laughter.
John recovered first.
"Go get the others and we'll grab something to eat. Oh, and ask for cake. I'm not allowed to have it, but what Carson doesn't know … won't hurt him. Since I'm not allowed any beer don't forget the soft drinks."
Rodney stood up and saluted.
"Yes sir, boss - at your command."
"Friend", John added and got an echo: "Friend!"
He closed his eyes, sat back smiling and sighed happily.
* In ancient times it was believed that Fata Morgana was the work of witches and sorcerers so they were named in honor of King Arthur's half-sister Morgan Le Fay. Morgan or Morgen, as she was known then, was a shape shifter and sorceress, a diligent student of Merlin, and generally a magical being.
A Fata Morgana superior mirage of a ship can take many different forms. Even when the boat in the mirage does not seem to be suspended in the air, it still looks ghostly, and unusual, and what is even more important, it is ever-changing in its appearance. Sometimes a Fata Morgana causes a ship to appear to float inside the waves, at other times an inverted ship appears to sail above its "real" companion.
It took a long time for me to write this story, but it was a wonderful challenge and it turned out to be the longest story I ever wrote in English.
Thank you, my loyal betas joaniexjony and mrscopterdoc! HUGS
Author: Libero
Fandom: SGA
Characters: John Sheppard
Rating: G
Word count: 7620
The Fairy*
This was a wild dream. He was floating through water as if he was flying. His face wet, hair plastered to his head and creeping plants touching his naked arms and legs. Every once in a while some myopic fish crossed his path and knocked against his temples.
John Sheppard wasn’t enjoying this dream. He desperately wanted to wake up, open his eyes, feel the soothing vibrations of Atlantis and snuggle deeper into his soft, dry blankets.
All of a sudden something sharp pierced into his forehead, leaving a bloody gash when resuming its way.
“Crap”, he gurgled and swallowed a mouthful of salt water.
This dream sucked big time.
He concentrated on opening his eyes.
It shouldn't be so hard, should it?
He'd done it at least once a day for over 40 years now.
Why was it so hard this time?
If this really was a dream, how was it possible to feel so tired or experience pain? Something wasn't quite right with this situation.
Raise eyelids, he ordered himself. Open eyes!
He groaned, spilling more water down his throat. John struggled and managed to drag his eyes open. He peeked out through the slits.
This wasn't a dream at all …
John saw grey: dark, watery and somewhat blurry grey - water?!
Realization hit. His face was drooping under water. John jerked his head up and let out a yell, as all the physical sensations were crashing over him.
He wasn't only tired and not in his bed, he was soaking wet, floating in water and aching all over. The gash above his right eye was still bleeding, his back hurt like hell and both of his arms were in pain, hanging uselessly under water.
Yet something wasn't quite right. He should be sinking like a stone, but instead he was floating nearly without effort.
He looked right then left and saw a piece of something sticking out from under his armpit. It was grey.
Of course, grey seemed to be the fashionable color nowadays.
Despite his head hurting and the tiredness growing, his weary brain grasped at a memory. He knew this design. This grey material was soft to the touch but very strong. It was made to last ten thousand years and longer.
Was it Wraith?
John tried to remember what had happened to him, but nothing resurfaced from his tired brain. Thinking made him dizzy and he decided to rest for a while. Maybe after a nap he would be able to figure out why he happened to be here in the middle of an ocean, lying on a Wraith lifebelt. His last conscious thought was: 'It would be good not to drown' and his last rational action was to shift the grey thing, so that he could lay down his head.
Then grey blurred to black.
-------------
"How long since his last status message?"
Dr. Elizabeth Weir was nervous. Her shoulders were tense and she flexed her fingers again and again while pacing up and down the control room.
Peter Grodin was sitting at the crystal control panel, concern clearly visible on his face. He had nothing but bad news.
"Almost 5 hours. Colonel Sheppard was just reaching the mainland - which means our main scanner. We saw him for about 10 minutes, enough time to reach the coast, then … nothing."
Elizabeth forced herself to keep her hands still.
"But why did the scanner lose him? Even if he …"
She trembled and wrapped both arms around her body.
"If he … crashed, we would still be able to sense his transmitter."
"Hm."
"What?"
It irritated her that Peter looked even more worried than he did a few minutes before.
"There's a storm around the city. A huge cold front has reached the ocean and formed some kind of cover right above the water. Nothing will get through it."
"And how long will the cover take to vanish?"
Elizabeth knew she wasn't making any sense, but she had to try. Peter needed to give her something to keep her strong.
"I honestly don't know, Dr. Weir. The atmospheric layers have to mix properly."
"Ok. So we wait?"
"We wait."
-------------
The Queen's Wraith growl was bloodcurdling and the Drone in front of her ducked his head another 5 inches.
The temperature in this part of the Hive ship dropped from 34° to -10° as the Queen stood up and invaded his personal space.
"Just to clarify things …"
She pointed her right index finger at him, her arm shaking so that her jewelry rattled.
"We started our culling on a nearly deserted planet, that was once a very promising feeding ground, then we were able to capture our worst enemy, this arrogant Colonel Sheppard, and we LOST him?"
The Drone started to explain: "We …"
"Shut up!"
She screeched and spit into his face.
"You're a miserable failure. Sheppard got off this ship in a STOLEN Dart."
Furiously she punched her fist, rings sparkling at every single finger, right into his face.
He staggered but did not fall. If he would have fallen, he would have been dead within a second.
--------------
When another hour passed in unnerving inaction, Elizabeth decided to pay the infirmary a visit. As she turned to tell Peter, she saw him stifle a yawn. He looked up at her wearing a sheepish expression. The small number of people working in the control room was on their last legs. Elizabeth had lost count of the hours they'd worked without a break.
As long as their leader was still walking, they would somehow go on. She knew they wouldn't give up trying to find the colonel.
“Get something to eat and maybe a coffee too - you can’t do anything here”, Peter suggested.
Elizabeth nodded and looked around at the grey faces with dark circles under their eyes, then back to Peter.
“I’ll get you a sandwich and a cup of tea.”
That’s not what he’d meant, but he only smiled at her and looked back to his screen. The cold front on display formed some kind of cheese cover over the water.
Hmmm, blue green Stilton …
His stomach growled.
The doors to the sick bay slid open and Elizabeth was once again overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people using any available space. People were lying on makeshift beds in the corridor, sitting and lying on blankets on the ground and occupying every single chair or seat. The most serious cases were resting on hospital beds and stretchers.
It was pure chaos.
They never had so many casualties in Atlantis.
Thanks to colonel Sheppard, the evacuation of Cresda went almost as planned. He and his team had spent 4 days on the planet, supported by several units and all of their jumpers.
When the culling began, most of the residents were safe on the mainland.
Everybody else had got involved in something that major Lorne later referred to as 'Wraith wrath'.
Elizabeth sighed when she recalled the endless list of wounded on Dr. Beckett's short report. 75 easy to moderate wounded and 16 critical cases, Teyla and Rodney among them.
And one still missing … Elizabeth added deep in thought.
----------------
He had to stand in the cold a long time while the Queen ordered her scientists, technicians and pilots to report to her throne. At the end she decided what course to take and dismissed the underlings.
At last she turned to him again.
"You", she hissed and rose to her impressive height.
He snapped out of his brooding to look into her face. He wanted to show strength until the last moment of his life.
"Go after him. I wish him recaptured and killed - in this order. You find him, you bring him to me, you'll live."
There was no need for more words.
The Drone considered bowing then thought otherwise and left. He knew that his Queen would never let him live, no matter what the outcome. So he made up his mind to take his own life.
But not before he'd made the Queen proud of him again.
As long as he'd served under this Queen, he'd always wanted to be recognized by her. So he'd stood in the frontline for reconnaissance flights. He'd defended the Hive and had never missed a single culling.
He knew what he would need to do to make himself remembered.
He would destroy colonel Sheppard and as much of Atlantis as he possibly could.
------------------
John regained consciousness, shaking with cold.
This time he had no problems opening his eyes, because his ribcage and back were hurting so much. He desperately wanted to know what had hit him.
He knew all would be grey again, but this time his vision was clearer so he could see the horizon.
Was there a ship?
Did they go out by ship to search for him?
But there was no ship in Atlantis or at the mainland. The Athosians were hunters and traders but no fishermen and this was no fisher boat at all. It was a three-master, no sails were hoisted and it was moving very slowly.
Ok, so if it wasn't the Atlantis sea - where was he?
John didn't know of another planet in the Pegasus galaxy with an ocean. But there could be one, of course.
And probably the ship was about to leave its harbor, setting sails and coming his way. There was hope.
John trembled harder when another thought crossed his mind. The ship might just be calling into port.
No hope at all …
Tiredness crept back into his bones. Drifting uselessly through the water, slowly dying of thirst and ending up as fish food wasn't the kind of end he'd ever considered.
As a soldier he'd always thought that he would get killed in action. Hell, there had been enough situations that could have been his death.
Suddenly he thought of his team.
Rodney would be onto his case, no question. It was possible that they'd long since detected his transmitter, had come to this planet and had chartered a ship.
The image of Ronon at the wheel commanding the sailors, Rodney complaining about the spray ruining his tablet and Teyla standing at the bow like Kate Winslet looking out for him, made him smile like an idiot.
"Gah …"
His head hurt.
John once again looked at the ship. He wanted to wipe his eyes, but couldn't move his arms.
"What the …"
The ship had altered course and it was definitely setting out to sea. But it wasn't THAT ship, was it? He only saw two masts now and the front one definitely was under sail.
He wondered if the cold and pain were confusing his senses.
Anyway, there was a ship and he had to try to get into its course and make himself noticed.
His arms were useless, but he still could paddle with his legs. After all he was a decent swimmer. He'd never lost a swimming competition against his brother.
So paddling it was.
It turned out to be a bad idea.
Moving his legs upwards felt like being sliced from toe to head with one of Ronon's swords. John let out a deep groan and his body collapsed.
--------------
Approaching Atlantis from space was insanity, but the Drone wasn't left with another option. He knew the way to his target.
A year and a half ago, he had flown in the strike to destroy Atlantis. They had been close to victory when suddenly the huge battleship had appeared out of hyperspace and the city's shield came up.
The Drone took a firmer grip on the control stick and let murderous rage float through his body.
Again he looked up the results of his latest scan. There was nothing unusual above the land, but what he saw on the ocean was very promising. A strange atmospheric situation with humid warm air right above the water and cold dry air covering the whole sea. This was something that could help him fly to Atlantis undetected.
All he needed to do was slide his Dart as close as possible to the water surface …
---------------
Dr. Carson Beckett walked towards Elizabeth with a very agitated Ronon in tow. The Satedan was sporting a head bandage and an angry red stitched up wound on his forearm. Elizabeth assumed that this wound had been bandaged too, but knowing Ronon well, she was surprised that he'd let the doctor suture it at all.
"How is Sheppard? Did he make it home?"
Ronon had walked in front of Carson and was now standing right in front of her, demanding answers.
Elizabeth swallowed her words when she saw Carson's angry face.
He said with a low menacing voice: "It's enough now, Ronon. I told you I'd come and tell you the news as soon as I've spoken to Elizabeth. You need to stay in bed. So …"
"I need to …"
Ronon suddenly staggered and Carson grabbed his left arm, crying for help. When two nurses reached them, the doctor was relieved and let him go. If Ronon had collapsed he would've had no chance to catch him.
"Take him back to bed please", he told the nurses, but before they left, Elizabeth took pity and said: "I'm sorry, Ronon, we haven't heard from him yet. There's a storm outside so we can't do much. Please try to rest. Carson will tell you when we know more."
The big man looked defeated. He grumbled something that sounded like 'Ok' before he was slowly escorted back to his bed.
Carson sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.
She saw how exhausted he was. Two and a half days of working non-stop had taken it's toll. 'Double shift' wasn't the right expression for what the medical personnel were doing here. It was working ad-infinitum if required and never giving up.
"I don't think I've ever seen Ronon sway", she said somewhat lightly.
The doctor looked at her, wearing a wry smile.
"He'd already keeled over twice before, that's why I want him in his bed. I don't have the personnel to constantly keep him upright."
"Concussion?"
"Aye. The wound at his temple knocked him out for a few hours, but he isn't in a bad way. 24 hours from now, he will be as good as new."
"How about Teyla and Rodney?"
"Teyla came through the surgery very well. She's still heavily sedated to help with her recovery. We fixed her broken tibia and used some artificial skin on her thigh. Provided there isn't any infection, she should make a full recovery."
Elizabeth knew how tricky burns could be and hoped for Teyla to get through it soon.
"And Rodney?"
Carson sighed again and continued: "The last scans came back promising. The swelling and therefore the pressure on his brain have declined, but he's still in a coma. We replaced the blood he'd lost through his arm wounds, but … his condition is still critical."
Elizabeth asked about the other patients in serious condition then told the doctor about their missing military commander.
"As soon as the weather allows, I'll send out two jumpers to search the ocean and the mainland. We hope that our scanner will pick up his transmitter signal."
Carson could hear her voice trembling and see her eyes glistening with unshed tears. They all were tired out and worried sick about the colonel.
John was essential to Atlantis, to the people who worked here and in the battle against the Wraith. He was essential to his friends and especially for Elizabeth who relied on him.
He had to live.
--------------
He was stiff all over. The position on his Wraith life-saver hadn't changed for what seemed like years and the pain had dimmed down to a dull ache.
Had the cold helped to numb the pain?
John went on with his physical inventory. He was cold and thirsty - which just about summed it up.
He wanted water so badly that he began to dream about the fountain in his high school. It was cool and refreshing …
He was cold. Every part of his body that wasn't under water was exposed to the chilling breeze. His hair had dried and the skin of his face felt like sandpaper.
Suddenly he remembered the ship and he looked around frantically.
Nothing.
The ship was gone.
He had been out too long and the ship had sailed away.
The tiredness and discouragement threatened to overwhelm him. Tears stung his eyes, but he swallowed them - there was already enough saltwater.
John realized he should have crashed the Dart on the mainland. His death would have been quick and relatively easy.
Dart?
He'd flown a Dart.
His memories came back and he couldn't suppress a bitter laugh. How ironic to remember all this just before dying.
The culling.
Most of the people were rescued before the war began.
He'd done his best, they all had, but then he'd been captured and taken on a Hive Ship. He'd been lucky. For once he'd been relatively unscathed and the two Drones who'd brought him in had been the most stupid ones in the Pegasus galaxy.
The escape from the Hive in a Dart had gone smoothly. He recalled remembering how to reach the mainland and he knew he had contacted Atlantis.
He didn't know he'd had a tail but realized there must have been one. John remembered the impact of the missile and the moment the Dart had tumbled down.
So why was he still alive?
Why hadn’t the enemy made sure he’d died?
He would have.
Another shivering attack coursed through his body, ending in a coughing fit.
So he was at the Atlantis sea after all.
What was the problem with localizing him, sending a jumper and picking him up?
It shouldn't take Rodney more than a minute to figure out where he was.
Rodney … his team … Lorne … all his marines …
Where were they?
What if … there was no one?
Atlantis' finest had been on Cresda to fight the Wraith. What if they lost?
There had been no time to ask Elizabeth about them before his Dart had crashed.
John didn't feel the tears running down his face.
There was no more feeling, no pain, no thirst.
Ice.
Ice was all that was left inside and outside of him.
-----------
"Dr. Weir to the control room, please."
Peter Grodin's voice startled Elizabeth, as she was standing deep in thought in the middle of the mess hall, a tray of food in her hands.
She hurried to the transporter and stood next to Peter only 2 minutes later.
"Good news, Peter?"
He watched her setting down the tray so hard that his tea spilled over the wrapped sandwiches.
Ignoring his gnawing hunger, he pointed out to the display.
"The storm has ceased and our scanner …"
An incoming message from the mainland interrupted him and Peter put them through.
"… couldn't contact … storm … tried because … single Dart … shot with the new weapon, Colonel Sheppard introduced us to. Toran out."
The static died down and the words 'Dart' and 'shot' rang through Elizabeth's ears. Her stricken expression matched the faces around her.
She made a gesture to Peter that she wanted to speak.
"Toran, please come in. Part of your message was lost to static. Say again."
"Dr. Weir, we couldn't contact you for several hours because of the storm. We tried to warn you about a single Dart flying very low over the mainland, heading towards Atlantis. We fired a shot with the new weapon, Colonel Sheppard introduced us to."
Peter sucked in some air and uttered: "The AT4 …"
Elizabeth felt cold right to the bones. Sheppard … John …
"Did you hit the Dart?"
"We did, Dr. Weir."
There was pride in Toran's voice.
"The Dart was on fire when it went down into the sea."
-------------
The scanner had picked up a signal just off the coast and Elizabeth sent out two jumpers, each with two soldiers. They were her last pilots and medical trained marines.
Meanwhile it was nearly dark, so they had to wait a long time to receive the first report. Word came back they had found pieces from the Dart and had traced them back in direction to the coast.
Finally after another hour there was the news they all were anticipating.
"We found him, Dr. Weir. He's on board of jumper two now. ETA in 15 minutes."
Elizabeth's heart began to race. "How is he?"
"His first question was 'what took you guys so long?'"
All people in the control room were laughing hysterically. So was Elizabeth.
"Bring him home, Sergeant."
"Yes, ma'am."
Turning the jumper towards Atlantis, the last thing, Sergeant Markham saw was a great fire on the coast.
------------
When the Drone reached the mainland he reduced altitude and tried to keep the Dart just above the trees.
He was a good pilot and normally he wouldn't forget about checking the controls constantly, but he was focused on his goal and how his achievement would make the Queen think well of him.
He knew that he would never be her favorite. At least he would die knowing he had pleased her at last.
The other warriors would speak of him, remember him for what he did. He would become a legend and live on in their memories.
He reached the Athosian settlement faster than he'd expected and prepared to go down further, skimming the coast and water surface.
It was dark outside the settlement so he saw the grenade illuminating the sky before it hit. It smashed into the Dart, sending him to the ground in flames.
"Sheppard!" he cried out, cursing his name, until the fire had completely engulfed him.
------------
The short flight, a fully opened heating system and two blankets hadn't been sufficient to warm him up, but when the jumper door opened in the bay, he stood up by himself and presented his best Sheppard grin.
Taking a last swig off the water bottle he threw it aside and walked towards Elizabeth. He saw that she had been crying, but now she was smiling at him.
"Colonel Sheppard. It's so good to have you back, safe and sound."
He enjoyed her embrace and thought - home, I'm really home again.
"It's good to be back, Elizabeth. What about my team, the marines … are they Ok?"
She let him go and examined him from head to toe. He looked like hell. Hair messier then ever, a bloody wound over his right eye and the man dripping wet. But he was on his feet, and the most important thing - he was back. He looked gorgeous.
"We have a lot of wounded, but fortunately no one died. Rodney and Teyla are seriously injured, but Ronon is mostly Ok. You'll see for yourself when you report to the infirmary."
"So the welcome home party is over?"
"I'm afraid so. Dr. Beckett is anxious to get you under the scanner."
"Ok."
John sighed theatrical, limped forward a few steps and turned around again.
"But we're having a couple beers soon, promise?"
"Alright, I promise."
She had not failed to notice the limp.
"Do you need a wheelchair?"
"Nah, just some back pain. I can walk."
When the doors of the transporter closed, his old friend Dizzy came back and forced him to lean against the wall to avoid falling down.
Great idea to refuse assistance …
John was thankful for the short ride to the infirmary and made his painful way through the populated hallway. The soldiers who weren't sleeping greeted him smiling, some gave him the thumbs up when he asked them how they were doing.
He had never seen so many patients in Atlantis' sick bay.
Walking was almost impossible now. He shuffled along, his right leg burning. The pain in his back and chest nearly taking his breath away.
When he saw a nurse rushing through the chaos, he rasped "Where's Beckett?"
"He's in surgery with an emergency. Just sit down somewhere. I'll send someone to look at that gash over your eye."
"Thanks."
He'd almost forgotten about the gash.
Sit down somewhere.
He liked the idea, but there wasn't a seat and there was no chance that he would be able to rise up from the ground again.
John's vision began to blur and he tumbled against a door that opened to a supply room. It was dark but the light beam from the hallway fell onto a silver transport case.
He sank down, groaning in agony when his legs made contact with the solid material of the box.
Closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the shelf with clean towels he thought: I can wait a little while longer. Easy as …
He was out before his body went limp and he crashed onto the floor.
Peter Grodin received another message from the Athosians while Dr. Weir was with the colonel. It was from Toran. He was worried. They had seen another single Dart.
"They could be spies, looking for the best way to attack Atlantis."
"No, they're not spies", Peter reassured him.
"How do you know? They had no interest in the mainland, they were heading directly for Atlantis."
Peter had talked to Elizabeth about the fact the Athosians - accidently of course - had shot down the colonel. They had to learn about it eventually.
"Colonel Sheppard was in the first Dart. I'm assuming that the second Dart was following him to try and kill him."
There was a long pause at the other end, then Toran asked in a quivering voice: "Colonel Shep … Sheppard was … in the Dart, I …"
The Colonel was highly respected among the Athosians and Peter had compassion for this young man, who he knew admired Sheppard.
"You couldn’t have known, Toran. In this situation you did the right thing. Colonel Sheppard will tell you just the same."
"He … he survived?"
"Yes, he did. We found him and he seems Ok except for some minor injuries."
It took him a few more minutes to calm the young man and to talk him out of the idea to come to Atlantis right away.
After scrubbing his hands and gulping down two glasses of water, Dr. Beckett touched his micro to speak to Dr. Weir.
"Rodney is out of the OR, Elizabeth. We got him stabilized again, but it was touch-and-go for a while. He's in ICU again."
He heard the exhaustion in his voice himself and quickly did the math. Three days without sleep and a decent meal. If he didn't get both soon, he would be a casualty himself.
"How is the Colonel?"
"Colonel Sheppard is back?"
"Yes, they found him 2 hours ago. He seemed to be relatively well, apart from a bloody scratch on his forehead and some back pain he complained about. I sent him straight to the infirmary."
"Aye … well … I'm only out the OR a few minutes. I'll go look for him and report back to you."
"Thanks, Carson. I'll be down there soon."
Half an hour later, after they'd searched the whole infirmary and asked every member of the medical personnel, they got together in Carson's office.
Colonel Sheppard wasn't in the infirmary.
"Cheeky bugger."
Carson rubbed one hand through his hair and Elizabeth saw that it stood up almost almost as much as Sheppard's.
"You said that he was feeling Ok?"
"He seemed Ok. He was cold of course. Soaking wet and tired, but apart from that …"
"Perhaps he went to his quarters to change into something warm and dry. Then, being tired and all, he crashed on his bed. That would be very Sheppard."
"Could be. He rarely does what is expected of him."
Elizabeth smiled and tapped on her earpiece.
"Is someone close to Colonel Sheppard's quarters?"
"I am, ma'am", answered captain Howard.
"Take a look into his room and send the Colonel to the infirmary ASAP."
"Yes, ma'am."
Suddenly a shrill yelp was heard and something clattered on the floor.
Carson was out on the hallway in a matter of seconds, heading to the storage room where several people were standing.
What he saw in the strong neon light alarmed him. He couldn’t blame Rosalie for crying and dropping the kidney dishes she had been looking for.
Colonel Sheppard was curled up in front of a transport case lying in a huge pool of blood. His face was almost grey and his breathing sounded labored and congested.
"Gurney, STAT!" ordered Carson. "Take him to the OR!"
Here she was again, sitting and waiting for the doctors to bring the good news. Or the bad …
Next to Elizabeth sat Ronon in a wheelchair. She had informed him about the colonel and he had insisted he would wait with her.
It took a long time to stabilize the barely living patient. John was dehydrated, suffering from hypothermia and massive blood loss.
It took hours before they were able to perform the necessary surgery.
Carson and his colleagues removed a 3 inch long piece from the Dart out of John's right thigh. It had caused the bleeding. Thankfully, lying in cold water for so long had slowed down the blood flow.
There were two broken ribs and the deep gash over his right eye.
He also had bruised kidneys, countless hematomas on both arms but the concussion would heal over the course of time. Unfortunately he had developed pneumonia, but Carson hoped for a full recovery.
He couldn't speak to Elizabeth though, because a few minutes after the surgery, Dr. Beckett collapsed and became a patient himself.
He was put to bed with an IV and ordered to rest for the next 10 hours.
-----------
"You always have to have the last word, Sheppard, don't you? That's not a likable trait, you know? I was VERY sick. In a coma for over a week with pressure to my brain. Do you hear me? Pressure … to my BRAIN! I could have ended brain dead or worse."
"Shhhh."
Rodney looked around and hunched his shoulders while the young doctor only shook his head.
He placed his chair closer to John's bed and resumed his complaints.
"You proved your point, Sheppard. You can stay longer in a coma then anybody else in Atlantis. You happy now? It's only annoying though, speaking to the living dead. Wake up!"
He shook Sheppard's arm and was about to shake harder when Ronon and Teyla came into the room.
The Satedan was behind Rodney like a flash and caught his arm in mid-air.
"Stop it, McKay. You'll only hurt him."
"Hurt him?" Rodney was insulted.
"If that hurts, my cat would have snarled continually."
"He's no cat, Rodney. And Ronon is right, you may hurt him, because he's still very fragile. We're all frustrated that he wouldn't wake up."
Teyla carefully placed her crutches at the edge of John's bed and sat down on the second chair.
"Frustrated is an understated expression for my feelings. Carson told us that he's doing better day by day, but I can't see it. He still needs all this equipment and a nurse round the clock."
"But he does not need the respirator anymore."
Teyla tried to lighten the mood.
John had been in a coma for more then three weeks now. For the first two he had been on the respirator and several other machines she didn't know by name. When they were finally allowed to see him, they had all been shocked at how bad he looked. John looked so frail that they very much doubted Carson's assurance that he was on the mend. It had looked like their friend had been on his farewell tour - yet he was still holding on.
Carson and Elizabeth entered the room, placing themselves at the bottom of John's bed.
"I'm glad you're all here, so we can take the opportunity to have a little informal meeting."
They all glanced at Elizabeth in their newly characteristic stance. Ronon was overprotective, Teyla appeared a little nervous and Rodney was more intolerable as usual. Carson was suspiciously cheerful. She, as the leader of Atlantis, was trying to hold it all together.
She was glad to have them all here with John. She wanted to make them feel that they, along with Carson, were still a team. They were John's team. She still wanted to reassure them John would recover. He was still their military commander.
"I'm happy to tell you things have improved thanks to the devoted work of the medical department. All of those with minor injuries are either back in their quarters or already working again.
The number of the badly wounded has dropped to 2, including the colonel.
The Cresdans have been relocated on PX-9217 and Stargate Command is very pleased how we have managed the crisis."
When nobody threw confetti or shouted 'hooray', Carson rose to speak.
"I know that you're all worried about the Colonel, but he's fighting like I had expected him to do. His wounds and ribs are healing nicely and antibiotics have finally taken care of his pneumonia."
"But he's still in a coma."
"Yes, Rodney, he is. The Colonel's very weak, but I ordered a new locomotor system to help improve his muscles and strength. The Daedalus will ship it in tomorrow."
"Ship."
The croaking startled them and they looked expectantly at John's face.
He hadn't moved, but when Rodney asked "What ship?" he whispered "There was a ship."
The doctor took his pulse and talked to him quietly.
"Can you open your eyes, John? Your team is here. Elizabeth too. We would all really like to see your eyes."
John recalled how tough this eye-opening task had felt the last time. Now he felt better. The pain wasn't too bad either. He decided to give it a try.
"Hey, that's great. You're doing well, John."
A smiling Carson came into his field of vision, then Elizabeth, Teyla, Ronon and Rodney. The latter looked grumpier than ever.
The colonel was confused. He couldn't think of something he'd done wrong.
"'M sorry."
It couldn't hurt to say that.
"What are you sorry about?" Elizabeth was puzzled.
"Hiding in that closet? I must have dozed off … it wasn't intentional."
"It's Ok. Nobody is going to blame you. You couldn't help being sick."
Elizabeth had walked to his side and had taken his left hand into hers. When John squeezed her fingers, it was like all her wishes had become true.
"What ship?"
Of course, Rodney wouldn't let this slip.
"When I floated in the ocean, there was a ship. Really big ship - a three-master, sailing slowly towards me."
Rodney looked at him horrified. John had lost it. They would never go through the Stargate again with him. He would be sent home, to harass the nurses at some looney bin on Earth.
When there was no response, John took back his hand and closed his eyes. He felt like a fool. Rodney had looked at him as if he'd lost it.
The rest had tried to hide it, but they'd all traded bewildered looks. When John didn't open his eyes again, Carson sent them out.
"Give the Colonel a little time to rest. You can come back tomorrow."
John was relieved when they left. He was exhausted, but when he sensed the doctor adjusting his IV, he opened his eyes a crack and murmured "Thank you, Carson."
"You're welcome."
"I'm not nuts, you know? There really was a ship."
"Sure, son. If you say so, I believe you."
John heard the forced conviction in Carson's voice but for now, he let it go.
-----------
"He's completely nuts, crazy, gone bananas … there never was a ship on the Atlantis sea!"
John's team members were sitting in Teyla's room with some coffee and dessert from lunch. Teyla, propped up in her bed, was worried but she was ready to give her team leader the benefit of doubt.
"John is not nuts. We should take his memories serious and let him explain what he saw."
"Oh well, support the loopy with their delusion. Great idea."
Rodney fiddled with his tablet computer.
"Why are you so aggressive?" Ronon was disappointed that Sheppard had been so subdued. Normally his friend was joking after bouncing back from the edge of death and suggesting a sparring match. He didn't like the quiet Sheppard.
"Aggressive? You call ME aggressive? I'm realistic. Here …" He showed them his computer screen with a three-master ship under sail.
"Look at this and tell me, who would have built something like this and thrown it through space right into our sea."
Ronon leaned forward and examined the photo.
"I've never seen anything like it."
"Ha." Rodney lifted his head and smirked.
Teyla was lost in thought. Her friends were right of course. It was impossible that such a ship had appeared out of nowhere. But she couldn't believe that John had gone insane. He was the military leader of Atlantis, a great soldier and a dear friend.
John was still very sick. It was possible he'd seen the ship in a nightmare or had imagined it while lying in the icy water believing he would die.
Teyla decided she would speak to him and try to find out the truth.
Elizabeth's thoughts were very similar. She sat in her office, undecided what to write into her report for Stargate Command.
She didn't want to believe John was a confused colonel, unable to distinguish between reality and imagination.
Their friendship had become strong over the time they'd been working closely together. He was the only one who could make her feel safe solely on account of his presence and he always was the first person she thought of when she had to discuss personal and official matters.
She needed him. She needed him to be the old John again.
With a deep sigh she opened her laptop.
She would write a short notice about Sheppard's recovery. She would only reveal the details by request.
Later she would talk to John again and try to find out the truth.
----------
It was in his job description to care, but this time Carson worried about his favorite patient a great deal.
Normally he had to throw out visitors on a regular basis, but this time the colonel had been left pretty much alone. There was too much time for him to think, to get depressed and to feel abandoned.
Toran had come to visit and ask for forgiveness. The young man was full of guilt, but had left feeling better after he'd learned the colonel held no grudge against him. In the contrary, John praised his courage and alertness.
Rodney and Ronon hadn't visited again after their informal meeting on the day John had woken for the first time. That was 4 days ago.
Teyla came once but had left after only half an hour. He couldn't blame her. The colonel had only given one word answers.
Elizabeth visited every afternoon. She sat by his bed for one or two hours, speaking little but showing that she cared.
Carson knew that John longed for this time with her.
He was depressed, yes, but if Elizabeth had abandoned him too, he would be devastated.
As his doctor, Carson was satisfied with his recovery. He could go to the bathroom by himself and did his exercises with the "Locomotive" regularly.
He smiled inwardly. No matter how depressed - John Sheppard would always name things.
When Elizabeth left for the day, Carson went to his patient and checked his bandages.
"How are you feeling, John?"
"I'm Ok, Carson, thanks. A little tired."
Not even once had the colonel asked when he was allowed to leave the infirmary, to get rid of the IV or could start to work again. It wasn't like him.
"Do you want to talk?"
"About what?"
"Uh … ships?"
John let out a low groan.
"No, not really, but …" He dragged one finger along the new scar above his right eye.
"I wish someone would finally say it aloud."
Carson waited. Maybe the colonel would unburden himself. He was relieved when he continued.
"That … that I've lost it. That I've gone haywire. That I …"
His voice was suddenly only a hoarse whisper.
"That I won't be allowed to lead my team anymore …"
He choked, rolled to the side and curled up like a frightened child.
"You could always speak to Dr. Heightmeyer."
"Yeah, sure." John spat out. "That would seal it then."
"No, I don't think that you're delusional. She will say the same thing. But you have to trust yourself again. You need to show them you're still John Sheppard. Don't wait for them to come and speak to you. Go to them - or better, get in a wheelchair and find them. Speak to them. Show them they can still trust you."
"How?"
He wasn't actually whining, was he?
"Like you always do, Colonel! Just remember your strength."
Carson left quietly, leaving him a bunch of things to consider and think about.
John hauled up the "Locomotive", put his legs into the treadles and started to think.
Two hours later he had his plan of action ready.
First thing in the morning - shrink talk. Ugh, that promised to become the highlight of the week.
Second - talk to Elizabeth, ask, if she was willing to let him resume his work as military commander.
Third - talk to his team … and listen …
He was bone tired. He went to the bathroom to take care of business and changed into a pair of new sweatpants. Despite his troubled thoughts, sleep would come easily this night.
As soon as he was snuggled up in bed again, the door crashed open and Rodney rushed to the bed, waving his tablet computer.
"There WAS a ship. For crying out loud, there WAS a ship!"
"Welcome to my world, Rodney."
"Huh? Yeah, whatever."
He threw the computer onto John's bed, letting himself flop on the chair.
"Did you know that you experienced a fairly unusual atmospheric condition out there, swimming in the sea?"
"No, I was busy trying to stay alive."
"Haha, funny. Do you remember it being very hot the last weeks before Cresda?"
"Rodney, please stop asking dumb questions and just spill it."
John crossed his arms and looked slightly amused at the agitated scientist. He was delighted to see his friend again, but he wouldn't tell him that.
"Ok, it was very hot 5 or 6 weeks in a row. You wore shorts on your free day … ahem, something I'm not keen on seeing again, by the way."
"Rodney!"
"Right. So it was cloudless and hot through the whole evacuation days until the last day when it began to get very humid."
When John opened his mouth to say something about meteorology to be a fascinating topic, but what the hell had it to do with him seeing a sailing ship, Rodney raised his hand and continued.
"On the day you crashed the Dart into the ocean, the sea and air were still unusually warm. That's actually the reason why you survived in the water so long."
Rodney stopped for a moment to think about what he'd just said. It still was a miracle that John hadn't frozen to death.
"Anyway, right before you crashed, a huge cold front reached Atlantis, a storm began and the cold, dry air formed some kind of shield above the water. Tada."
The scientist grinned and looked up to John who sat there, more puzzled then before.
"And this is important why exactly?"
"Look at this, Mensa boy."
Rodney gave him the computer and John studied the screen for several minutes. Then he looked right into Rodney's eyes.
"A Fata Morgana? Are you sure?"
"Hundred percent. It's a well-known phenomenon not only in the desert but also at sea. You even can see it, driving on the highway, when the sky is reflected on the hot asphalt, looking like water."
John let the words sink in. A Fata Morgana … a well-known phenomenon … a weather pattern.
He wasn't crazy at all.
"So … you believe me then?"
Rodney fiddled with the blanket, his heart beating in his throat.
"It means a lot that you came and told me about this. Thanks, Rodney."
John's words let him blush with shame.
"I'm really sorry, John. Of course I believe you", he croaked.
"I wanted to believe you all the time, but I was afraid, that …"
"Me too. Let's forget it and look forward. Have you had dinner already?"
"Uh no, actually I'm starved."
Rodney gave him a lopsided grin.
"You know, all that weather research really wore me out. But it's physics after all."
He shrugged, then rolled his eyes and when John began to laugh, he couldn't contain himself any longer and burst into a spontaneous laughter.
John recovered first.
"Go get the others and we'll grab something to eat. Oh, and ask for cake. I'm not allowed to have it, but what Carson doesn't know … won't hurt him. Since I'm not allowed any beer don't forget the soft drinks."
Rodney stood up and saluted.
"Yes sir, boss - at your command."
"Friend", John added and got an echo: "Friend!"
He closed his eyes, sat back smiling and sighed happily.
* In ancient times it was believed that Fata Morgana was the work of witches and sorcerers so they were named in honor of King Arthur's half-sister Morgan Le Fay. Morgan or Morgen, as she was known then, was a shape shifter and sorceress, a diligent student of Merlin, and generally a magical being.
A Fata Morgana superior mirage of a ship can take many different forms. Even when the boat in the mirage does not seem to be suspended in the air, it still looks ghostly, and unusual, and what is even more important, it is ever-changing in its appearance. Sometimes a Fata Morgana causes a ship to appear to float inside the waves, at other times an inverted ship appears to sail above its "real" companion.