Fic: Wake, Part 2
The hair on the back of John's neck stood on end as he crept through the silent halls, feeling like an escaped fugitive. It was just after midnight when he took the final flight of stairs that led to the control room. He knew he should feel nervous or at least a little remorseful for what he was about to do, but all he felt was a deep sense of relief.
Rodney's research had been easy to access once John found the right laptop. Hasty calculations of time difference ratios, estimated schematics, and power distributions all sat in a long-forgotten file. Throughout the day John made all the necessary arrangements, gathering a pack of rations and basic supplies. It wasn't much, but it was all he would need for what he was planning. He checked in with Carson when he was expected, and even managed to eat dinner with Ronon, Teyla and her family in her quarters. It was easier to be on his best behavior when he knew he wasn't going to be around much longer.
When the city switched to the overnight skeleton crew, John was in his room, double-checking his supply pack and laying out the data pad with his plans on the bed. He considered leaving a note along with it to explain himself (Ronon would understand, but Teyla would worry,) but he figured that was trite, even for him. Instead, he stuck a Post It on the screen. Read Me.
He swallowed a sick guilt, realizing he was being selfish. Still, after eight years of yanking people off death's doorstep in Pegasus, and even more in his years of military service prior, John decided he had earned the right. John snatched the Ambien off the desk and entered the empty corridor.
That's how he found himself outside the control room, taking one last steeling breath and striding in. This was the crucial moment-if he missed this opportunity the rest of the plan was a wasted effort.
The night technician jumped when John came up from behind. "Colonel Sheppard!"
"Didn't mean to scare you there, Johnson." John surveyed the workstation and there, just as he'd hoped, was a cup of coffee.
"Is there something I can help you with, sir?"
"Naw. Couldn't sleep. Just thought I'd check on things while I was passing through. How's it looking?"
"All clear, sir." He said.
"Long range sensors?" John asked, leaning over the gate tech's shoulder.
"Nothing there but space" the technician said. John nodded, satisfied. Selfish though his plan may be, he had no intention of leaving Atlantis short one military commander if there was even a chance that they would need him. As John leaned back, he dropped the sleeping pills into Johnson's coffee.
"Zelenka would kill you if he saw that," John said, gesturing at the cup sitting on the Ancient console. Johnson flushed and began stuttering out an excuse. John grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, I'm not telling. I'd rather the man at the sensors be awake. Just don't let it get on the technology." Deciding to stop tormenting the innocent bystander, John bid him goodnight and left the gate room, pausing in the doorway to see Johnson take a deep swig of his coffee.
The plan now officially in motion, John made a fast break for his quarters. By his count, he had only twenty minutes before the night patrol made their rounds in the control tower, and he still had to make it across the city without being seen. He ducked inside his room only long enough to grab his pack, gun and life signs detector.
By the first transporter, he had to make a decision: either cut through the central tower, or take the back hallways and stairs that, while more tedious, would mean less people-dodging than in the common areas. The LSD only showed the general area, so was no help in seeing ahead to other parts of the city. John chose the long way and hoped for the best as he punched the dot on the map.
Luckily, when the doors slid open no one was on the other side, but a glance at his watch told him that he had lost more time than he planned for in the jaunt back to his room. John would have to move quickly and not hit any major snags on the way if he was going to pull this off. Keeping an eye on the LSD, John took off at a dead run.
John cursed under his breath as he came up a flight of stairs. Two dots were blinking cheerily in the next hallway on his planned route, forcing John to go up an extra level and cut across. The detour didn't cost him much time, however, and he traversed the final passages without further event.
John entered the jumper bay at a sprint, going automatically to jumper three. He felt briefly guilty for nicking the best jumper, but the next move had to go off without a hitch, and for that he would need a ship he could count on. John checked his watch one last time-five minutes to spare-and flew the puddle jumper out of the bay. If he could get through the stargate then he was home free, but he had no way of knowing if the control room would be clear. He just had to hope the night patrol was on schedule and the sleeping pills had worked their magic on the lone technician. With one last, deep breath, he lowered the jumper into the control room.
A cursory glance showed Johnson slumped in his seat at the controls and the floor free of any other witnesses. The cards were in his favor-no one was expecting anything unusual tonight, with the Wraith out of the way and galaxy more at peace than it had been in thousands of years-but he didn't want to tempt fate a second longer than necessary. John punched in the address and flew through the gate as soon as the wormhole stabilized. As the stargate blinked out behind him John was overcome with hysterical laughter. It was a broken, desperate sound, fueled by exhaustion and adrenaline. John felt more untethered than he could remember ever being.
***
Less than an hour later, John found himself standing in front of a doorway he had not seen in over six years. John smiled grimly to himself. He'd always heard time was relative, but that had never meant anything until he came to Pegasus. Between time travelling, time dilation, and having years of his life repeatedly drained and replenished, John wasn't even sure how old he was, let alone able to account for how much time had passed since he was first introduced to the universe of aliens and magic genes. Perhaps the strangest part was realizing that it had all become normal to him.
John thought about his first trip through the Stargate. Everyone had been so sure of themselves; so confident that they could handle whatever was waiting for them on the other side. In truth, they were embarrassingly unprepared. They ran head first into one disaster after another, never pausing long enough to realize just how out of their depth they really were. Still, here they were, eight years later (give or take,) standing on a field of victory. The Atlantis expedition had done everything it set out to do and so much more. Bringing freedom to an entire galaxy should count as a win in anyone's book, but looking back on all the destruction that happened along the way, John had to wonder if it was really worth it. Would these people have been better off if they had just stayed in the Milky Way where they belonged? Would he?
John ran his fingers along the Ancient writing carved into the stone in front of him. The first time he saw it, it had been meaningless. He recognized the script, but couldn't even tell where one word ended and the next began. It was clearer now. Bits of sentences stood out from the rest: refuge ... let all who seek the path to enlightenment ... burden ... enter here. Not enough to understand. Even if they had just found the doorway now instead of that time long ago, when they were still travelers in a foreign galaxy, it still wouldn't be clear enough to warn them away from rushing in, guns first. Not nearly enough, and yet, so much more.
John turned to the door, taking a moment to brace himself for the pain he knew was coming (and didn't that just say it all?) then stepped forward.
***
“This is nice,“ John said, leaning back and adjusting his sunglasses.
“Nice?“ Rodney asked incredulously. “We have a month's leave saved up and you take me to the bug infested, sun baked lakes of Texas? If I wanted to fight off giant insects and pass out from heat stroke, we could have just stayed home.“
“If you're hot, we can go in the water again,“ John said. He had heard Rodney's tirades enough to know they were more perfunctory than genuine.
“Um, no. Those fish bite!“ Rodney said. John laughed and rolled his eyes.
“Fair enough.“ They looked out at the passing sailboats in companionable silence. Texas was having a record heat wave that summer, and, as a result, Lake Travis was down to a mere puddle compared to its usual depths. Boat ramps that used to lead right up to the water's edge now dropped off to sheer cliff faces that hugged the lake on all sides. Despite the many complaints they heard from the locals, it seemed cozy to John. He couldn't remember feeling so safe.
“I have a question,“ Rodney said. John looked up, a little hesitant. It never boded well when Rodney prefaced his questions rather than just coming out with them. “Why sailing?“ Rodney gestured vaguely around them at the boat they had rented.
“Why not?“ John asked by way of response.
“Well, we could have literally gone anywhere in the world. Surfing in Hawaii, or a European tour, or, I don't know, Disney World!“
“Did you want to go to Disney World?“
“No!“ Rodney said, already exasperated. “That's not the point. I'm just saying, I didn't even know you could sail. It's an unexpected first choice.“
“Vacation is supposed to be relaxing. This is relaxing.“ John shrugged, but he could feel Rodney's eyes on him. John may have perfected the fine art of the poker face, but somehow Rodney, who was otherwise completely oblivious to the subtleties of other people, could always tell when John was bullshitting. John was beginning to suspect that the other man had some experimental mind reading device up his sleeve. With Rodney anything was possible. “When I was little my dad would take us sailing down the East Coast every summer. My mom had this Catalina that she loved, and we'd spend a whole week on it at sea. Me and Dave would fish off the back and my dad would grill whatever we caught right there on the boat.“
“My parents sent me to stay with my great aunt in Fargo, North Dakota every summer. It was awful. Only three TV channels and at least five cats,“ Rodney said, and John laughed.
“I thought you liked cats.“
“Cats in general? Yes,“ Rodney said. “But this was a menagerie! She covered all the furniture in quilts to keep the hair off, and then put vinyl shower curtains over that to keep the quilts clean.“
“That's a little piece of Heaven right there.“
“Oh, yes.“ Rodney rolled his eyes. “I think I was the only kid that hated summer vacation.“
“Well, my mom died when I was thirteen,“ John said. “My dad just sent us off to summer camp after that.“
“Oh god, John, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-“
“It was a long time ago.“ John cut in before Rodney could dig himself a hole out of what he intended to be an apology. “I guess I just thought sailing is something you do with family.“ A moment of silence passed before John look over at Rodney who was failing to contain a very satisfied grin. “What?“
“You like me,“ Rodney said.
“I didn't say that,“ but John was grinning now too.
“But you think I'm family.“
“Yeah, the annoying cousin that eats all the pudding cups.“ Rodney had crossed the small deck and was kissing John almost before he got the words out.
“If this is what you do with your cousins then I'm going to have to seriously reconsider my choice in romantic partners,“ Rodney said and kissed John again. “And those pudding cups were mine!“
***
Going through the portal was less painful than he remembered. Maybe because he knew it was coming, maybe because he didn't fight it this time, but it didn't hurt to move afterwards. John was always grateful for small favors.
The area inside the field looked nearly identical to how he had left it, which surprised John. Hundreds of years must have passed since he had been trapped inside, but you couldn't tell by looking. That's what happens when you have a bubble of constant perfect weather, he supposed. A quick look around showed the orchards and well to still be viable. John was relieved. That was something he had been counting on. Even when the tiny village had been inhabited the occupants had lived primarily off the land as it was. Who has time for farming between all that meditation?
John inspected the buildings of the cloister. They had clearly been in disuse but were, for the most part, structurally sound. The wood was dry, and the hay thatched roofs had all disintegrated and fallen away, but none were close to caving in. A little work would have them back in shape. Night was falling, however, so repairs would have to wait until morning.
John made camp in the middle of the cloister, building up a small fire next to the water hole. He ate a quick dinner of a Power Bar and bottled water from the supplies he'd brought along, and then lay out to sleep. John looked up at the stars and wondered how they got there. He couldn't be looking at the real night sky-hundreds of nights came and went in the time one passed outside the field-so he must be looking at a high tech projection. They were real enough to fool John, though. He had looked up at them for over six months, hoping to see a puddle jumper fly out of them and come to his rescue. It was interesting that the Ancients would include such an erroneous detail, like the Ancient equivalent of sticking glow stars to your bedroom ceiling. It seemed that even after you discovered all their secrets, you couldn't escape the wonder of the stars.
As John drifted to sleep, he almost thought he heard a piano playing in the distance. But that would be impossible.
***
John spent the first week fixing the roof of the hut that had been his home the last time he was in the time dilation field. It was small-only one room, not even as big as his quarters in Atlantis-but more difficult to repair than he had anticipated. All the tools left behind by the field's previous occupants had rusted over, so he had to use his knife to cut through the straw-like plant used to cover the support beams. Fortunately, he was familiar with the general process from the regular maintenance the buildings had required on his last visit, and the physical exertion kept him occupied enough to stop his mind from wandering. He was still plagued with an unnatural fatigue and at night, he slept where he fell. He never remembered dreaming.
By the time he had finished the roof and reinforced the walls on the first building he had begun to lose track of the days. He was surprised by how little that bothered him. John had found the military an easy fit because he'd always lived a highly structured life. From age five he'd attended an all-boys private school that instituted corporal punishment for anything from smoking in the bathroom to untucked shirts. Even his summers had been spent mostly at enrichment camps. John had rebelled in small ways-brightly colored novelty socks that clashed horribly with his school uniform; loosening all the screws in his professor's desk chair so that it fell apart when he sat down; a poorly tattooed dragon snaking around his right knee and calf (Dave had been equal parts awed and horrified, Nancy had been turned on, and Rodney laughed until he had tears in his eyes)-but he had never known a life that was not ordered by a strict set of rules and consequences. Having no structure at all was both disorienting and a relief.
John went straight into repairing the former meditation house, ignoring the blisters that were quickly hardening into calluses on his hands. He didn't need the extra shelter, but he needed to stay busy. He had been testing the stability of the support beams when a noise in the forest made him pause. John had not encountered another living creature since he entered the field aside from some rabbit-like animals that had moved into one of the smaller out buildings. Even normal forest sounds were out of place here.
His gun was in the other building, but John held up his knife defensively and waited for any other signs of life. Slowly, the sound of someone running through the woods behind the cloister reached him. He took off in the same direction, not sure what to expect, but ready for a fight. Suddenly someone cried out, "John! Help, John!"
The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. "John!" it shouted again. He was leaping fallen branches and swerving around trees at full speed but didn't seem to be gaining on his quarry.
The woods opened up to a creek and John paused, disoriented. He had lost track of where he was going and was suddenly somewhere he didn't recognize without any idea how to get back. Before he had time to get his bearings, he spotted someone running through the trees on the opposite bank. He could only make out that it was a boy, no more than ten years old, with a thick head of light brown hair. John took off again, crossing the creek in three long strides. The water soaked his boots and pants, weighing down his already tired body, but now that he had seen the boy it was easier to follow. Before long, he had the boy in his sights and was closing the distance between them.
The boy turned his head to look behind him and shouted, "John, help!" But John stopped dead, recognition forcing the wind out of him.
"Dave?" he said, but before the name had even fully fallen from his lips, a snarling Rottweiler leapt out of the forest and tackled Dave into a thick patch of shrubs. "Dave!" he yelled, and bound forward. When he reached the bushes there was no evidence of his brother or the dog. John spun around, knife at the ready, expecting the two to reappear at any moment, but the woods had gone silent.
John dropped to the ground, letting his head slump forward. He took deep ragged breaths while the adrenaline rush started to fade and he tried to explain away seeing his brother from nearly thirty years ago.
"Do you come to seek the path, John Sheppard?" John nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a woman's voice. Standing between him and the shrubs his brother had disappeared into only moments before was Teer, the woman he had come to know the last time he was on this planet.
"What are you doing here?" John demanded, too shaken to be polite.
"That is the question I came to ask you." Teer said, smiling serenely down at him.
"It's just that the last time I saw you, you were a little more... glowy."
"We may assume the forms of the lower planes if we wish," she said.
"Yeah, I've seen that trick before," John said almost to himself.
"Come. Walk with me," Teer said and began walking before John was even on his feet. John considered not following. A part of him craved solitude and was slightly offended at her disruption of the space he had unknowingly begun to regard as his own. Still, another, more persistent part was reeling at the sight of his brother and figured her appearance must be linked, so he pulled himself off the forest floor and caught up with her.
"You do not look well, John," she said when they fell into step.
"Don't tell me you came all this way just to say I look like hell," John replied sardonically.
"You carry a great burden. I can see it in you," she said. John didn't respond. They walked a minute more until the trees broke into a clearing. In the distance John saw the cloister. He was shocked to see how close he was to the little village. It felt like he had run for miles, but he had never been more than a short walk away from where he started.
"Was it you?"
"I had nothing to do with the boy," Teer said, shaking her head. John had to think about that for a moment. He didn't know what ascended beings were capable of, but believing it had been Teer was his last ditch attempt at convincing himself he wasn't losing his grip on reality. Unless...
"But you saw him? He was real?" John couldn't completely mask the note of desperation in his voice.
"Real?" she said. "What you can see and hear may belie what you know in your heart to be true, but that does not negate it. At times, all our thoughts are misgivings." So, yes, definitely crazy then. "Who was he?"
"The kid?" John asked. Teer nodded. "I'm not sure."
"You said his name."
"Well, sure, but it couldn't have been. There's no way it was-"
"Dave?"
"Yes." John sighed. He could tell her what he thought he'd seen, but that didn't mean he had to believe it. Hallucinations didn't have to be delusions. "Dave is my younger brother. Once, when we were kids, I wouldn't let him stay after school with my friends and me. I made him walk home by himself and one of the neighbor's dogs attacked him. The cleaning lady saw him go down and took him to the hospital. He was there all night getting stitched up." Dave still had the scars on his arm and back. John knows he must have been punished by his dad, but he all he remembers is not being able to look Dave in the eye for weeks afterwards. It had been their first day back to school since their mother died.
"Why are you here, John?" Teer asked, and John was temporarily thrown off by the apparent non sequitur. He suddenly remembered why he couldn't stand talking to ascended beings.
"I just... needed some time away," he said. "Call it a leave of absence."
Teer looked at him contemplatively then said, "You come seeking the path."
"I told you before, ascension's not really my style." John said.
"There are many paths, and many ways to enlightenment," Teer replied. "We must all choose one."
"Right, well, I'll keep that in mind."
"Yes, but now you should rest. The day has been long," she said. John looked around, only just registering that the sun had sunk nearly below the horizon. He had lost the entire afternoon. When he turned back to Teer, she was gone.
***
“I know this song,“ John said.
“Of course you do,“ Rodney said, fingers never missing a note as they danced across the piano keys. “Everyone knows this song. It's Beethoven.“
“No, I mean...“ John sat down on the bench next to Rodney and shooed the other man's hands away from the keys. Rodney sighed in mock offense, but complied. John began playing where Rodney had left off. His fingers halted and slipped across wrong notes, a stark contrast to Rodney, who had played effotlessly, as if it came to him first nature.
“Don't quit your day job, Colonel. You have no future as a concert pianist.“ Rodney said, smirking.
“Gee thanks,“ John said, but continued working through the piece.
“I didn't know you could play,“ Rodney said.
“I can't. Not really,“ John said. “Dave took piano lessons in junior high. He had this piece for his first competition. Every day for a month he would play it over and over again for hours. I guess I just picked it up.“
“You just 'picked it up'?“ Rodney asked, and John could hear the air quotes in his tone.
“Yeah. I don't even know what it's called,“ John said.
“Moonlight Sonata,“ Rodney supplied. “Though that's not really accurate. It was named posthumously and Beethoven would probably have been furious. He never titled his compositions. He didn't intend to tell a story with his music. At least not in such simple terms.“
“Huh,“ was John's only reply. As he continued playing, the music became more fractured. Eventually he pulled away from the keys, unable to remember the final bars. He watched as Rodney finished the piece with a fluidity and flourish that had him wondering how anyone could say this man had no feel for the art.
“What?“ Rodney asked after noticing John's open stare. John only shrugged, then leaned over and rested his head on Rodney's shoulder. Rodney reached up and carded his fingers through John's hair, scratching gently at the base of John's skull. John hummed contentedly and wrapped his arms around Rodney's waist.
“I haven't been here since my dad died,“ John said after a moment. Rodney glanced around the poshly decorated room and murmured, “Doesn't look like anyone has.“
John laughed quietly. “You could be right about that. Dave and his family live in D.C. I'm surprised he didn't just sell the place.“
“I keep trying to picture it, but I just can't see you growing up here,“ Rodney said. “This place seems more like a museum than a family home.“
“It's not as if being here gives me warm, fuzzy memories of my childhood.“ Rodney made a soft, unhappy sound at that and tilted his head down to meet John's in a sideways approximation of an Athosian embrace.
“Well, reminders of my youth hardly fill me with a glowing nostalgia either,“ Rodney said. “Growing up, I always imagine going off to be something great. Like if my name was in a science journal or on an orchestra program my parents would suddenly repent of all the ways they screwed up my formative years.“
“How'd that work out for you?“
“They both died before I published my first paper.“ If John tightened his grip then, Rodney didn't mention it. “For so many years I wanted to erase them from my life, but it didn't feel any better when they were actually gone. I guess you never stop wanting your parents approval, even when it doesn't matter anymore.“
“Yeah,“ John said. “That's family.“
Somewhere in the house a clock began chiming the hour.
“Does it help to know that in some parallel reality we both had happy childhoods and grew up to be productive, well-adjusted members of society?“ John asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“This is the only reality of consequence,“ Rodney deadpanned.
“A house in the suburbs, 2.5 kids, his and hers SUVs-“ John continued, but Rodney cut him off with a snort of disgust. “You didn't let me get to the white picket fence and Westland terrier.“
Rodney leaned back, placed his hands on John's shoulders and looked him straight in the eye, “I don't want to live in that reality or any other that doesn't take us both to Atlantis where we belong.“ John wished he had said something more elegant than 'all right,' but Rodney let John kiss him anyway.
“Your brother's late,“ Rodney said when they parted.
“He does that sometimes,“ John replied.
“Do you think he'll like me?“
“No.“
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Colonel Sensitivity.“
“Don't worry about it. He doesn't like me either.“ John meant it as a joke, but they both knew it was the honest truth.
“Yeah, well that's...“
“Family,“ John finished for him.
“Yeah.“
***
So much time had passed without event that John started to believe he had dreamed up Teer and the chase through the woods. The long days working in the sun could easily account for his imagination getting the better of him. At least that was what he chose to believe, because the alternative was insanity, and that wasn't an option he was willing to consider.
John had thrown himself back into the repairs with a single-minded fervor, starting the minute he was conscious and going until he could barely hold himself upright, then crashing into sleep. John hadn't seen himself in anything like a mirror since he left Atlantis, but the clothes he brought with him now hung off him loosely. He could hear the lecture Carson would give him at the sight of bones pressing out against skin where, previously, had been flat planes.
His knife had lost any semblance of a sharp edge before he had even completed thatching the second roof. Several days had been spent sharpening and replacing the handles on what tools could be salvaged. Most had deteriorated beyond redemption, but John was pleased with the few small cutting tools he had worked out of the scrap. He didn't really care about the time they would save, but he was relieved to give his hands a bit of a break from the rough treatment they received while using just the knife.
John finished hanging the newly forged tools on pegs he had installed on the outside of the meditation house, and then made for the building in which he had been living. He halted in the doorway when he saw Teer sitting cross-legged beside his bedroll. "Hello John," she said. John lifted his hand in a small wave, then crossed the room and dropped onto the floor on the far side of the room.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked.
"I came to speak with you," she replied.
"Don't you people have some rule about not interfering with the lower planes of existence?" John asked. He was tired, and not in the mood for word games with the ascended being.
"I'm not interfering."
"What would you call this, then?" John gestured to her in evidence.
"Talking."
John laughed. "Fine. What do you want to talk about?"
"Why are you here?"
"You keep asking that."
"You never answered," Teer said, and, alright, he should have seen that one coming.
"Nowhere else to go, I guess."
"When last you were here you never gave up trying to get home. That is not so this time. I've been watching."
"You know, it's a little creepy when you say stuff like that," John said, avoiding the topic. Teer didn't take the bait.
"John," she said. John sighed and surrendered.
"I couldn't stay in Atlantis anymore."
"Why?" Teer sounded truly curious.
"I've been fighting wars for more years than I can count. First on Earth, then here, with the Wraith. Now, it's over, and I know I should be happy about that, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do." John said. He was surprised to realize he was telling the truth.
"You are a warrior." Teer said.
"Yeah," John said. "That works."
"You're afraid to live a purposeless life."
"Not afraid," John countered. "I just don't know how."
Teer tilted her head in consideration. "You spoke much of your friends before. Are they not a purpose?"
"Ronon and Teyla? They came to Atlantis to help us fight the Wraith. They can have lives now; make real homes somewhere," John said, sighing. "Teyla already has a family." John's voice was harsh from disuse. He had rarely spoken so candidly about himself, but he was still not entirely convinced Teer wasn't just a figment of his imagination conjured out of his extended solitude. Even if she were really there, John decided he wasn't likely to end up the topic of gossip around the ascended water cooler.
Teer regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "There's more. You carry a deep sadness."
"No offense, but I don't really feel like-" A high-pitched whine sounded overhead, stopping John abruptly.
"What is it?" Teer asked, but John held up a hand, beckoning for silence. A second later, another whine sounded, followed by the blast of weapons fire. John ran out of the building and stared at the sky as two Wraith darts curved around and flew back in his direction. He was dumbstruck. The Wraith weren't supposed to be a threat anymore. Did some get away during the attack without them realizing it? And how did they get into the time dilation field?
The darts drew close, shooting down the outer buildings of the cloister. Bright white beams scoured the ground in search of humans, but John was rooted to the spot. Shouts and the cries of children erupted all around him, the sounds of a city in panic, but looking around the village, John saw no one. One of the darts made his position and was headed straight for him when he was hit from behind. Someone had shoved him out of the way of the dart's beam at the last second.
"We need to get out of here, sir!" cried the voice of the man still on top of him, shouting over the noise. The man moved away and dragged John to his feet. John turned to look at him, still unable to process the situation.
"Ford?" John said in disbelief.
"Yes, sir," he replied. John gaped at the sight of Aiden Ford, youthful and whole, like he had been when they first arrived in Pegasus. John had the memory of Ford's ruined face after the first siege of the city so ingrained in his mind-scarred, one eye gone black-he almost didn't recognize the young Marine. "The jumper's just over the ridge. Teyla and McKay already made a run for it."
"Rodney..." John whispered. Ford gritted his teeth. Realizing he wasn't getting through to his commanding officer, Ford wrapped an arm around John's shoulders and began dragging him bodily across the clearing. John's feet caught on, even if his mind didn't, and he began running in the direction he was being forced. More shots came from overhead, setting fire to the open field. Ford swore loudly and shoved John forward, then turned and began shooting his P-90 at the nearest dart. With nothing moving him forward, John stopped and stared openly. The fire was spreading quickly, already engulfing the ruined outer most buildings of the cloister.
Ford managed to land some hits, causing the dart to billow smoke and careen out of control, but the other one was moving in fast. "Ford, move!" John cried out, but it was too late. The last thing John saw was Aiden turning to him, drawing a breath to shout when he disappeared into a flash of white light.
"Ford!" John yelled, but his voice just echoed back to him. The clearing had gone silent, the darts and grass fire vanishing just as quickly as they had appeared. John keeled over, feeling like he was about to be sick. He tried to breathe deeply, but couldn't get any air in his lungs. His ears were ringing, and his vision began to fuzz. He held on to consciousness as long as he could, but the darkness swallowed him.
***
John woke to the feeling of a cool, damp cloth being dabbed against his cheek and neck. He brushed the hand away and threw an arm across his eyes. His head was pounding, and his eyelids failed to block out the sunlight. John lay unmoving, allowing himself to fade in and out of consciousness. When the pain finally began to subside, night had fallen. John sat up. He was back in his room in the cloister, a basin of water sitting nearby on the floor.
"You were restless in sleep," John was unsurprised to realize Teer had been watching him from across the room. "You called out many times."
"Why are you here?" John demanded.
"To help you," she said.
"Help me?" John choked on an incredulous laugh. "I was fine. I wasn't seeing my little brother get mauled by a dog or talking to people who have been dead for years until you got here. If this is your idea of help, I'm not interested."
"I am not the creator of these visions, John."
"I don't see anyone else around."
"Do you remember nothing of your previous time in the sanctuary?" She asked. "You are the master of your own demons."
"Why are you doing this to me?!" John shouted, leaping to his feet.
"You must face your fears in order to release your burden, John," she answered calmly.
"I don't want to release my burden, or find the path to enlightenment, or whatever else it is you think you're helping me do! All I want is to be left alone." John was snarling by the end.
"If that is what you wish," Teer said.
"It is," John said.
"Then I shall take my leave." Teer stood and walked out of the building. John looked out the door after her, but she was already gone.
He turned back into the room and fell onto his bedroll. John curled in on himself and pulled the blanket over his head as violent shivers racked his body. A strangled sob escaped, unbidden, from his lips, followed shortly by another and another, until he was weeping openly. Everything he had been holding back since he woke up so many months ago in his wrecked quarters in Atlantis rippled to the surface. Grief forced its way out of him in waves until he was left gasping raggedly on the floor of the hut, spent.
He exhaled, feeling hollowness replace the pressure that had taken up residence beneath his sternum for so long he hadn't even noticed it was still there. His head throbbed again from the exertion; somewhere in the distance Moonlight Sonata played him softly to sleep.
***
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Part One
Part Three
Rodney's research had been easy to access once John found the right laptop. Hasty calculations of time difference ratios, estimated schematics, and power distributions all sat in a long-forgotten file. Throughout the day John made all the necessary arrangements, gathering a pack of rations and basic supplies. It wasn't much, but it was all he would need for what he was planning. He checked in with Carson when he was expected, and even managed to eat dinner with Ronon, Teyla and her family in her quarters. It was easier to be on his best behavior when he knew he wasn't going to be around much longer.
When the city switched to the overnight skeleton crew, John was in his room, double-checking his supply pack and laying out the data pad with his plans on the bed. He considered leaving a note along with it to explain himself (Ronon would understand, but Teyla would worry,) but he figured that was trite, even for him. Instead, he stuck a Post It on the screen. Read Me.
He swallowed a sick guilt, realizing he was being selfish. Still, after eight years of yanking people off death's doorstep in Pegasus, and even more in his years of military service prior, John decided he had earned the right. John snatched the Ambien off the desk and entered the empty corridor.
That's how he found himself outside the control room, taking one last steeling breath and striding in. This was the crucial moment-if he missed this opportunity the rest of the plan was a wasted effort.
The night technician jumped when John came up from behind. "Colonel Sheppard!"
"Didn't mean to scare you there, Johnson." John surveyed the workstation and there, just as he'd hoped, was a cup of coffee.
"Is there something I can help you with, sir?"
"Naw. Couldn't sleep. Just thought I'd check on things while I was passing through. How's it looking?"
"All clear, sir." He said.
"Long range sensors?" John asked, leaning over the gate tech's shoulder.
"Nothing there but space" the technician said. John nodded, satisfied. Selfish though his plan may be, he had no intention of leaving Atlantis short one military commander if there was even a chance that they would need him. As John leaned back, he dropped the sleeping pills into Johnson's coffee.
"Zelenka would kill you if he saw that," John said, gesturing at the cup sitting on the Ancient console. Johnson flushed and began stuttering out an excuse. John grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, I'm not telling. I'd rather the man at the sensors be awake. Just don't let it get on the technology." Deciding to stop tormenting the innocent bystander, John bid him goodnight and left the gate room, pausing in the doorway to see Johnson take a deep swig of his coffee.
The plan now officially in motion, John made a fast break for his quarters. By his count, he had only twenty minutes before the night patrol made their rounds in the control tower, and he still had to make it across the city without being seen. He ducked inside his room only long enough to grab his pack, gun and life signs detector.
By the first transporter, he had to make a decision: either cut through the central tower, or take the back hallways and stairs that, while more tedious, would mean less people-dodging than in the common areas. The LSD only showed the general area, so was no help in seeing ahead to other parts of the city. John chose the long way and hoped for the best as he punched the dot on the map.
Luckily, when the doors slid open no one was on the other side, but a glance at his watch told him that he had lost more time than he planned for in the jaunt back to his room. John would have to move quickly and not hit any major snags on the way if he was going to pull this off. Keeping an eye on the LSD, John took off at a dead run.
John cursed under his breath as he came up a flight of stairs. Two dots were blinking cheerily in the next hallway on his planned route, forcing John to go up an extra level and cut across. The detour didn't cost him much time, however, and he traversed the final passages without further event.
John entered the jumper bay at a sprint, going automatically to jumper three. He felt briefly guilty for nicking the best jumper, but the next move had to go off without a hitch, and for that he would need a ship he could count on. John checked his watch one last time-five minutes to spare-and flew the puddle jumper out of the bay. If he could get through the stargate then he was home free, but he had no way of knowing if the control room would be clear. He just had to hope the night patrol was on schedule and the sleeping pills had worked their magic on the lone technician. With one last, deep breath, he lowered the jumper into the control room.
A cursory glance showed Johnson slumped in his seat at the controls and the floor free of any other witnesses. The cards were in his favor-no one was expecting anything unusual tonight, with the Wraith out of the way and galaxy more at peace than it had been in thousands of years-but he didn't want to tempt fate a second longer than necessary. John punched in the address and flew through the gate as soon as the wormhole stabilized. As the stargate blinked out behind him John was overcome with hysterical laughter. It was a broken, desperate sound, fueled by exhaustion and adrenaline. John felt more untethered than he could remember ever being.
***
Less than an hour later, John found himself standing in front of a doorway he had not seen in over six years. John smiled grimly to himself. He'd always heard time was relative, but that had never meant anything until he came to Pegasus. Between time travelling, time dilation, and having years of his life repeatedly drained and replenished, John wasn't even sure how old he was, let alone able to account for how much time had passed since he was first introduced to the universe of aliens and magic genes. Perhaps the strangest part was realizing that it had all become normal to him.
John thought about his first trip through the Stargate. Everyone had been so sure of themselves; so confident that they could handle whatever was waiting for them on the other side. In truth, they were embarrassingly unprepared. They ran head first into one disaster after another, never pausing long enough to realize just how out of their depth they really were. Still, here they were, eight years later (give or take,) standing on a field of victory. The Atlantis expedition had done everything it set out to do and so much more. Bringing freedom to an entire galaxy should count as a win in anyone's book, but looking back on all the destruction that happened along the way, John had to wonder if it was really worth it. Would these people have been better off if they had just stayed in the Milky Way where they belonged? Would he?
John ran his fingers along the Ancient writing carved into the stone in front of him. The first time he saw it, it had been meaningless. He recognized the script, but couldn't even tell where one word ended and the next began. It was clearer now. Bits of sentences stood out from the rest: refuge ... let all who seek the path to enlightenment ... burden ... enter here. Not enough to understand. Even if they had just found the doorway now instead of that time long ago, when they were still travelers in a foreign galaxy, it still wouldn't be clear enough to warn them away from rushing in, guns first. Not nearly enough, and yet, so much more.
John turned to the door, taking a moment to brace himself for the pain he knew was coming (and didn't that just say it all?) then stepped forward.
***
“This is nice,“ John said, leaning back and adjusting his sunglasses.
“Nice?“ Rodney asked incredulously. “We have a month's leave saved up and you take me to the bug infested, sun baked lakes of Texas? If I wanted to fight off giant insects and pass out from heat stroke, we could have just stayed home.“
“If you're hot, we can go in the water again,“ John said. He had heard Rodney's tirades enough to know they were more perfunctory than genuine.
“Um, no. Those fish bite!“ Rodney said. John laughed and rolled his eyes.
“Fair enough.“ They looked out at the passing sailboats in companionable silence. Texas was having a record heat wave that summer, and, as a result, Lake Travis was down to a mere puddle compared to its usual depths. Boat ramps that used to lead right up to the water's edge now dropped off to sheer cliff faces that hugged the lake on all sides. Despite the many complaints they heard from the locals, it seemed cozy to John. He couldn't remember feeling so safe.
“I have a question,“ Rodney said. John looked up, a little hesitant. It never boded well when Rodney prefaced his questions rather than just coming out with them. “Why sailing?“ Rodney gestured vaguely around them at the boat they had rented.
“Why not?“ John asked by way of response.
“Well, we could have literally gone anywhere in the world. Surfing in Hawaii, or a European tour, or, I don't know, Disney World!“
“Did you want to go to Disney World?“
“No!“ Rodney said, already exasperated. “That's not the point. I'm just saying, I didn't even know you could sail. It's an unexpected first choice.“
“Vacation is supposed to be relaxing. This is relaxing.“ John shrugged, but he could feel Rodney's eyes on him. John may have perfected the fine art of the poker face, but somehow Rodney, who was otherwise completely oblivious to the subtleties of other people, could always tell when John was bullshitting. John was beginning to suspect that the other man had some experimental mind reading device up his sleeve. With Rodney anything was possible. “When I was little my dad would take us sailing down the East Coast every summer. My mom had this Catalina that she loved, and we'd spend a whole week on it at sea. Me and Dave would fish off the back and my dad would grill whatever we caught right there on the boat.“
“My parents sent me to stay with my great aunt in Fargo, North Dakota every summer. It was awful. Only three TV channels and at least five cats,“ Rodney said, and John laughed.
“I thought you liked cats.“
“Cats in general? Yes,“ Rodney said. “But this was a menagerie! She covered all the furniture in quilts to keep the hair off, and then put vinyl shower curtains over that to keep the quilts clean.“
“That's a little piece of Heaven right there.“
“Oh, yes.“ Rodney rolled his eyes. “I think I was the only kid that hated summer vacation.“
“Well, my mom died when I was thirteen,“ John said. “My dad just sent us off to summer camp after that.“
“Oh god, John, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-“
“It was a long time ago.“ John cut in before Rodney could dig himself a hole out of what he intended to be an apology. “I guess I just thought sailing is something you do with family.“ A moment of silence passed before John look over at Rodney who was failing to contain a very satisfied grin. “What?“
“You like me,“ Rodney said.
“I didn't say that,“ but John was grinning now too.
“But you think I'm family.“
“Yeah, the annoying cousin that eats all the pudding cups.“ Rodney had crossed the small deck and was kissing John almost before he got the words out.
“If this is what you do with your cousins then I'm going to have to seriously reconsider my choice in romantic partners,“ Rodney said and kissed John again. “And those pudding cups were mine!“
***
Going through the portal was less painful than he remembered. Maybe because he knew it was coming, maybe because he didn't fight it this time, but it didn't hurt to move afterwards. John was always grateful for small favors.
The area inside the field looked nearly identical to how he had left it, which surprised John. Hundreds of years must have passed since he had been trapped inside, but you couldn't tell by looking. That's what happens when you have a bubble of constant perfect weather, he supposed. A quick look around showed the orchards and well to still be viable. John was relieved. That was something he had been counting on. Even when the tiny village had been inhabited the occupants had lived primarily off the land as it was. Who has time for farming between all that meditation?
John inspected the buildings of the cloister. They had clearly been in disuse but were, for the most part, structurally sound. The wood was dry, and the hay thatched roofs had all disintegrated and fallen away, but none were close to caving in. A little work would have them back in shape. Night was falling, however, so repairs would have to wait until morning.
John made camp in the middle of the cloister, building up a small fire next to the water hole. He ate a quick dinner of a Power Bar and bottled water from the supplies he'd brought along, and then lay out to sleep. John looked up at the stars and wondered how they got there. He couldn't be looking at the real night sky-hundreds of nights came and went in the time one passed outside the field-so he must be looking at a high tech projection. They were real enough to fool John, though. He had looked up at them for over six months, hoping to see a puddle jumper fly out of them and come to his rescue. It was interesting that the Ancients would include such an erroneous detail, like the Ancient equivalent of sticking glow stars to your bedroom ceiling. It seemed that even after you discovered all their secrets, you couldn't escape the wonder of the stars.
As John drifted to sleep, he almost thought he heard a piano playing in the distance. But that would be impossible.
***
John spent the first week fixing the roof of the hut that had been his home the last time he was in the time dilation field. It was small-only one room, not even as big as his quarters in Atlantis-but more difficult to repair than he had anticipated. All the tools left behind by the field's previous occupants had rusted over, so he had to use his knife to cut through the straw-like plant used to cover the support beams. Fortunately, he was familiar with the general process from the regular maintenance the buildings had required on his last visit, and the physical exertion kept him occupied enough to stop his mind from wandering. He was still plagued with an unnatural fatigue and at night, he slept where he fell. He never remembered dreaming.
By the time he had finished the roof and reinforced the walls on the first building he had begun to lose track of the days. He was surprised by how little that bothered him. John had found the military an easy fit because he'd always lived a highly structured life. From age five he'd attended an all-boys private school that instituted corporal punishment for anything from smoking in the bathroom to untucked shirts. Even his summers had been spent mostly at enrichment camps. John had rebelled in small ways-brightly colored novelty socks that clashed horribly with his school uniform; loosening all the screws in his professor's desk chair so that it fell apart when he sat down; a poorly tattooed dragon snaking around his right knee and calf (Dave had been equal parts awed and horrified, Nancy had been turned on, and Rodney laughed until he had tears in his eyes)-but he had never known a life that was not ordered by a strict set of rules and consequences. Having no structure at all was both disorienting and a relief.
John went straight into repairing the former meditation house, ignoring the blisters that were quickly hardening into calluses on his hands. He didn't need the extra shelter, but he needed to stay busy. He had been testing the stability of the support beams when a noise in the forest made him pause. John had not encountered another living creature since he entered the field aside from some rabbit-like animals that had moved into one of the smaller out buildings. Even normal forest sounds were out of place here.
His gun was in the other building, but John held up his knife defensively and waited for any other signs of life. Slowly, the sound of someone running through the woods behind the cloister reached him. He took off in the same direction, not sure what to expect, but ready for a fight. Suddenly someone cried out, "John! Help, John!"
The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. "John!" it shouted again. He was leaping fallen branches and swerving around trees at full speed but didn't seem to be gaining on his quarry.
The woods opened up to a creek and John paused, disoriented. He had lost track of where he was going and was suddenly somewhere he didn't recognize without any idea how to get back. Before he had time to get his bearings, he spotted someone running through the trees on the opposite bank. He could only make out that it was a boy, no more than ten years old, with a thick head of light brown hair. John took off again, crossing the creek in three long strides. The water soaked his boots and pants, weighing down his already tired body, but now that he had seen the boy it was easier to follow. Before long, he had the boy in his sights and was closing the distance between them.
The boy turned his head to look behind him and shouted, "John, help!" But John stopped dead, recognition forcing the wind out of him.
"Dave?" he said, but before the name had even fully fallen from his lips, a snarling Rottweiler leapt out of the forest and tackled Dave into a thick patch of shrubs. "Dave!" he yelled, and bound forward. When he reached the bushes there was no evidence of his brother or the dog. John spun around, knife at the ready, expecting the two to reappear at any moment, but the woods had gone silent.
John dropped to the ground, letting his head slump forward. He took deep ragged breaths while the adrenaline rush started to fade and he tried to explain away seeing his brother from nearly thirty years ago.
"Do you come to seek the path, John Sheppard?" John nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a woman's voice. Standing between him and the shrubs his brother had disappeared into only moments before was Teer, the woman he had come to know the last time he was on this planet.
"What are you doing here?" John demanded, too shaken to be polite.
"That is the question I came to ask you." Teer said, smiling serenely down at him.
"It's just that the last time I saw you, you were a little more... glowy."
"We may assume the forms of the lower planes if we wish," she said.
"Yeah, I've seen that trick before," John said almost to himself.
"Come. Walk with me," Teer said and began walking before John was even on his feet. John considered not following. A part of him craved solitude and was slightly offended at her disruption of the space he had unknowingly begun to regard as his own. Still, another, more persistent part was reeling at the sight of his brother and figured her appearance must be linked, so he pulled himself off the forest floor and caught up with her.
"You do not look well, John," she said when they fell into step.
"Don't tell me you came all this way just to say I look like hell," John replied sardonically.
"You carry a great burden. I can see it in you," she said. John didn't respond. They walked a minute more until the trees broke into a clearing. In the distance John saw the cloister. He was shocked to see how close he was to the little village. It felt like he had run for miles, but he had never been more than a short walk away from where he started.
"Was it you?"
"I had nothing to do with the boy," Teer said, shaking her head. John had to think about that for a moment. He didn't know what ascended beings were capable of, but believing it had been Teer was his last ditch attempt at convincing himself he wasn't losing his grip on reality. Unless...
"But you saw him? He was real?" John couldn't completely mask the note of desperation in his voice.
"Real?" she said. "What you can see and hear may belie what you know in your heart to be true, but that does not negate it. At times, all our thoughts are misgivings." So, yes, definitely crazy then. "Who was he?"
"The kid?" John asked. Teer nodded. "I'm not sure."
"You said his name."
"Well, sure, but it couldn't have been. There's no way it was-"
"Dave?"
"Yes." John sighed. He could tell her what he thought he'd seen, but that didn't mean he had to believe it. Hallucinations didn't have to be delusions. "Dave is my younger brother. Once, when we were kids, I wouldn't let him stay after school with my friends and me. I made him walk home by himself and one of the neighbor's dogs attacked him. The cleaning lady saw him go down and took him to the hospital. He was there all night getting stitched up." Dave still had the scars on his arm and back. John knows he must have been punished by his dad, but he all he remembers is not being able to look Dave in the eye for weeks afterwards. It had been their first day back to school since their mother died.
"Why are you here, John?" Teer asked, and John was temporarily thrown off by the apparent non sequitur. He suddenly remembered why he couldn't stand talking to ascended beings.
"I just... needed some time away," he said. "Call it a leave of absence."
Teer looked at him contemplatively then said, "You come seeking the path."
"I told you before, ascension's not really my style." John said.
"There are many paths, and many ways to enlightenment," Teer replied. "We must all choose one."
"Right, well, I'll keep that in mind."
"Yes, but now you should rest. The day has been long," she said. John looked around, only just registering that the sun had sunk nearly below the horizon. He had lost the entire afternoon. When he turned back to Teer, she was gone.
***
“I know this song,“ John said.
“Of course you do,“ Rodney said, fingers never missing a note as they danced across the piano keys. “Everyone knows this song. It's Beethoven.“
“No, I mean...“ John sat down on the bench next to Rodney and shooed the other man's hands away from the keys. Rodney sighed in mock offense, but complied. John began playing where Rodney had left off. His fingers halted and slipped across wrong notes, a stark contrast to Rodney, who had played effotlessly, as if it came to him first nature.
“Don't quit your day job, Colonel. You have no future as a concert pianist.“ Rodney said, smirking.
“Gee thanks,“ John said, but continued working through the piece.
“I didn't know you could play,“ Rodney said.
“I can't. Not really,“ John said. “Dave took piano lessons in junior high. He had this piece for his first competition. Every day for a month he would play it over and over again for hours. I guess I just picked it up.“
“You just 'picked it up'?“ Rodney asked, and John could hear the air quotes in his tone.
“Yeah. I don't even know what it's called,“ John said.
“Moonlight Sonata,“ Rodney supplied. “Though that's not really accurate. It was named posthumously and Beethoven would probably have been furious. He never titled his compositions. He didn't intend to tell a story with his music. At least not in such simple terms.“
“Huh,“ was John's only reply. As he continued playing, the music became more fractured. Eventually he pulled away from the keys, unable to remember the final bars. He watched as Rodney finished the piece with a fluidity and flourish that had him wondering how anyone could say this man had no feel for the art.
“What?“ Rodney asked after noticing John's open stare. John only shrugged, then leaned over and rested his head on Rodney's shoulder. Rodney reached up and carded his fingers through John's hair, scratching gently at the base of John's skull. John hummed contentedly and wrapped his arms around Rodney's waist.
“I haven't been here since my dad died,“ John said after a moment. Rodney glanced around the poshly decorated room and murmured, “Doesn't look like anyone has.“
John laughed quietly. “You could be right about that. Dave and his family live in D.C. I'm surprised he didn't just sell the place.“
“I keep trying to picture it, but I just can't see you growing up here,“ Rodney said. “This place seems more like a museum than a family home.“
“It's not as if being here gives me warm, fuzzy memories of my childhood.“ Rodney made a soft, unhappy sound at that and tilted his head down to meet John's in a sideways approximation of an Athosian embrace.
“Well, reminders of my youth hardly fill me with a glowing nostalgia either,“ Rodney said. “Growing up, I always imagine going off to be something great. Like if my name was in a science journal or on an orchestra program my parents would suddenly repent of all the ways they screwed up my formative years.“
“How'd that work out for you?“
“They both died before I published my first paper.“ If John tightened his grip then, Rodney didn't mention it. “For so many years I wanted to erase them from my life, but it didn't feel any better when they were actually gone. I guess you never stop wanting your parents approval, even when it doesn't matter anymore.“
“Yeah,“ John said. “That's family.“
Somewhere in the house a clock began chiming the hour.
“Does it help to know that in some parallel reality we both had happy childhoods and grew up to be productive, well-adjusted members of society?“ John asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“This is the only reality of consequence,“ Rodney deadpanned.
“A house in the suburbs, 2.5 kids, his and hers SUVs-“ John continued, but Rodney cut him off with a snort of disgust. “You didn't let me get to the white picket fence and Westland terrier.“
Rodney leaned back, placed his hands on John's shoulders and looked him straight in the eye, “I don't want to live in that reality or any other that doesn't take us both to Atlantis where we belong.“ John wished he had said something more elegant than 'all right,' but Rodney let John kiss him anyway.
“Your brother's late,“ Rodney said when they parted.
“He does that sometimes,“ John replied.
“Do you think he'll like me?“
“No.“
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Colonel Sensitivity.“
“Don't worry about it. He doesn't like me either.“ John meant it as a joke, but they both knew it was the honest truth.
“Yeah, well that's...“
“Family,“ John finished for him.
“Yeah.“
***
So much time had passed without event that John started to believe he had dreamed up Teer and the chase through the woods. The long days working in the sun could easily account for his imagination getting the better of him. At least that was what he chose to believe, because the alternative was insanity, and that wasn't an option he was willing to consider.
John had thrown himself back into the repairs with a single-minded fervor, starting the minute he was conscious and going until he could barely hold himself upright, then crashing into sleep. John hadn't seen himself in anything like a mirror since he left Atlantis, but the clothes he brought with him now hung off him loosely. He could hear the lecture Carson would give him at the sight of bones pressing out against skin where, previously, had been flat planes.
His knife had lost any semblance of a sharp edge before he had even completed thatching the second roof. Several days had been spent sharpening and replacing the handles on what tools could be salvaged. Most had deteriorated beyond redemption, but John was pleased with the few small cutting tools he had worked out of the scrap. He didn't really care about the time they would save, but he was relieved to give his hands a bit of a break from the rough treatment they received while using just the knife.
John finished hanging the newly forged tools on pegs he had installed on the outside of the meditation house, and then made for the building in which he had been living. He halted in the doorway when he saw Teer sitting cross-legged beside his bedroll. "Hello John," she said. John lifted his hand in a small wave, then crossed the room and dropped onto the floor on the far side of the room.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked.
"I came to speak with you," she replied.
"Don't you people have some rule about not interfering with the lower planes of existence?" John asked. He was tired, and not in the mood for word games with the ascended being.
"I'm not interfering."
"What would you call this, then?" John gestured to her in evidence.
"Talking."
John laughed. "Fine. What do you want to talk about?"
"Why are you here?"
"You keep asking that."
"You never answered," Teer said, and, alright, he should have seen that one coming.
"Nowhere else to go, I guess."
"When last you were here you never gave up trying to get home. That is not so this time. I've been watching."
"You know, it's a little creepy when you say stuff like that," John said, avoiding the topic. Teer didn't take the bait.
"John," she said. John sighed and surrendered.
"I couldn't stay in Atlantis anymore."
"Why?" Teer sounded truly curious.
"I've been fighting wars for more years than I can count. First on Earth, then here, with the Wraith. Now, it's over, and I know I should be happy about that, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do." John said. He was surprised to realize he was telling the truth.
"You are a warrior." Teer said.
"Yeah," John said. "That works."
"You're afraid to live a purposeless life."
"Not afraid," John countered. "I just don't know how."
Teer tilted her head in consideration. "You spoke much of your friends before. Are they not a purpose?"
"Ronon and Teyla? They came to Atlantis to help us fight the Wraith. They can have lives now; make real homes somewhere," John said, sighing. "Teyla already has a family." John's voice was harsh from disuse. He had rarely spoken so candidly about himself, but he was still not entirely convinced Teer wasn't just a figment of his imagination conjured out of his extended solitude. Even if she were really there, John decided he wasn't likely to end up the topic of gossip around the ascended water cooler.
Teer regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "There's more. You carry a deep sadness."
"No offense, but I don't really feel like-" A high-pitched whine sounded overhead, stopping John abruptly.
"What is it?" Teer asked, but John held up a hand, beckoning for silence. A second later, another whine sounded, followed by the blast of weapons fire. John ran out of the building and stared at the sky as two Wraith darts curved around and flew back in his direction. He was dumbstruck. The Wraith weren't supposed to be a threat anymore. Did some get away during the attack without them realizing it? And how did they get into the time dilation field?
The darts drew close, shooting down the outer buildings of the cloister. Bright white beams scoured the ground in search of humans, but John was rooted to the spot. Shouts and the cries of children erupted all around him, the sounds of a city in panic, but looking around the village, John saw no one. One of the darts made his position and was headed straight for him when he was hit from behind. Someone had shoved him out of the way of the dart's beam at the last second.
"We need to get out of here, sir!" cried the voice of the man still on top of him, shouting over the noise. The man moved away and dragged John to his feet. John turned to look at him, still unable to process the situation.
"Ford?" John said in disbelief.
"Yes, sir," he replied. John gaped at the sight of Aiden Ford, youthful and whole, like he had been when they first arrived in Pegasus. John had the memory of Ford's ruined face after the first siege of the city so ingrained in his mind-scarred, one eye gone black-he almost didn't recognize the young Marine. "The jumper's just over the ridge. Teyla and McKay already made a run for it."
"Rodney..." John whispered. Ford gritted his teeth. Realizing he wasn't getting through to his commanding officer, Ford wrapped an arm around John's shoulders and began dragging him bodily across the clearing. John's feet caught on, even if his mind didn't, and he began running in the direction he was being forced. More shots came from overhead, setting fire to the open field. Ford swore loudly and shoved John forward, then turned and began shooting his P-90 at the nearest dart. With nothing moving him forward, John stopped and stared openly. The fire was spreading quickly, already engulfing the ruined outer most buildings of the cloister.
Ford managed to land some hits, causing the dart to billow smoke and careen out of control, but the other one was moving in fast. "Ford, move!" John cried out, but it was too late. The last thing John saw was Aiden turning to him, drawing a breath to shout when he disappeared into a flash of white light.
"Ford!" John yelled, but his voice just echoed back to him. The clearing had gone silent, the darts and grass fire vanishing just as quickly as they had appeared. John keeled over, feeling like he was about to be sick. He tried to breathe deeply, but couldn't get any air in his lungs. His ears were ringing, and his vision began to fuzz. He held on to consciousness as long as he could, but the darkness swallowed him.
***
John woke to the feeling of a cool, damp cloth being dabbed against his cheek and neck. He brushed the hand away and threw an arm across his eyes. His head was pounding, and his eyelids failed to block out the sunlight. John lay unmoving, allowing himself to fade in and out of consciousness. When the pain finally began to subside, night had fallen. John sat up. He was back in his room in the cloister, a basin of water sitting nearby on the floor.
"You were restless in sleep," John was unsurprised to realize Teer had been watching him from across the room. "You called out many times."
"Why are you here?" John demanded.
"To help you," she said.
"Help me?" John choked on an incredulous laugh. "I was fine. I wasn't seeing my little brother get mauled by a dog or talking to people who have been dead for years until you got here. If this is your idea of help, I'm not interested."
"I am not the creator of these visions, John."
"I don't see anyone else around."
"Do you remember nothing of your previous time in the sanctuary?" She asked. "You are the master of your own demons."
"Why are you doing this to me?!" John shouted, leaping to his feet.
"You must face your fears in order to release your burden, John," she answered calmly.
"I don't want to release my burden, or find the path to enlightenment, or whatever else it is you think you're helping me do! All I want is to be left alone." John was snarling by the end.
"If that is what you wish," Teer said.
"It is," John said.
"Then I shall take my leave." Teer stood and walked out of the building. John looked out the door after her, but she was already gone.
He turned back into the room and fell onto his bedroll. John curled in on himself and pulled the blanket over his head as violent shivers racked his body. A strangled sob escaped, unbidden, from his lips, followed shortly by another and another, until he was weeping openly. Everything he had been holding back since he woke up so many months ago in his wrecked quarters in Atlantis rippled to the surface. Grief forced its way out of him in waves until he was left gasping raggedly on the floor of the hut, spent.
He exhaled, feeling hollowness replace the pressure that had taken up residence beneath his sternum for so long he hadn't even noticed it was still there. His head throbbed again from the exertion; somewhere in the distance Moonlight Sonata played him softly to sleep.
***
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