Chapter twenty-three: The future
Sheppard opened his eyes slowly. "This is becoming a habit," McKay said, but his voice sounded strained.
Sheppard blinked. There was no trace of the fog. His leg hurt, but there was no pain anywhere else. He tried cautiously to move his hands, and managed to do so without any difficulty. He moistened his lips, and realised suddenly that he felt hungry and thirsty. He had lost track of the last time his body had been aware of such a basic thing as that.
"Are you going to stay awake this time?" McKay asked. "At least this time we didn't have to carry you. Ronon put you in the wheelchair. You looked ridiculous."
Sheppard shifted, pushing himself up against the pillows. "How long?" His voice felt rusty.
McKay frowned. "Since you fainted? A day. Leaving us with all the hard work of putting the city back together again, while you slept the night away." He saw Sheppard looking at him, and seemed to understand the thing that Sheppard couldn't ask, for he added, "And it was only a few minutes before that - between you going through the Gate and coming back, I mean."
He let out a breath, sinking into the pillow. "Hard work?" he echoed. "I don't see you doing any work."
"I'm taking a break," McKay snapped. "Though why I doing that while sitting by your bed, I don't know. Probably because Elizabeth told us not to leave you alone."
You liar, Rodney. Sheppard smiled. He saw the laptop at Rodney's feet, and saw, too, the other chairs that sat nearby, empty now, but looking as if they had recently been filled.
"Did you… uh… did you mean it?" McKay was looking at the ground. "When you said this was worse than… you know."
Oh. Sheppard blinked. "Of course I didn't. It was a trick." He chuckled. "She should have learnt not to fall for the same trick twice. You really can't believe everything you see in a guy's mind."
"Oh. I thought…" McKay looked up. For the slightest moment, before his face became McKay's face again, he looked almost vulnerable.
He had been through far too much to lie now. "It did seem true for a while," he admitted. "There were moments…" When you shouted. When you told me how much I'd missed. When Elizabeth refused to listen. "But, in the end… no." Actions speak louder than words, Rodney. He decided to say it, after all. "Actions speak louder than words. I know what people said. But in the end, you all…" But it turned out that there were limits to what he could say out loud, after all.
McKay cleared his throat, smoothing out creases in his jacket. "I suppose I should tell someone you're awake."
Sheppard shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with me." He hoped it was true. He felt okay, but he didn't put it past her to have one final trick up his sleeve. No, he couldn't think like that. Except for the bullet wound, refreshingly explicable in his thigh, he felt physically better than he had felt since he had first seen her. He had to act as if he was going to fine. To act any other way was to make it a self-fulfilling prophecy. If he acted as if she had killed him, then she had won. He had to start every day with the utter confidence that she had left him alone forever.
McKay stood up; walked away a few steps, and came back. "What are you going to do now?"
Sheppard didn't pretend not to understand. The danger was over now. Everything would return to normal, and he would be back where he had been before Caldwell had been shot.
"It's just that you're the ranking military officer now, or kind of, what with Caldwell still out of action, and Brett…"
So Caldwell was still alive. "Not for long," Sheppard had to tell McKay. "They'll send someone else in a heartbeat." He sighed, listening to the gentle hum of Atlantis all around him. He could get used to this, he decided. He had never looked to be military commander, after all. As long as he had a place here, and perhaps a team to lead, he could be content here. He could accept another man's command, as long as they listened to him and allowed changes to be made to how things were run. He had only seen this new Atlantis at crisis, but he was fairly sure that something had been deeply wrong with it even before that had happened.
"You'll stay?" McKay said. "Well, I suppose I could get used to your nagging and your insanely high expectations."
"That'll depend on Caldwell or whoever comes to replace him," Sheppard said, "and the Air Force back home." But he was still too close to the fog to hide things entirely behind lies. "But I will do my damnedest to stay."
He was still ridiculously weary. His watch told him that it was eight hours before he woke again. McKay had gone, and this time it was Carson who was looking down at him.
"I'm so sorry, Major." Carson's eyes looked bruised with guilt.
"Wasn't your fault, doc," Sheppard told him.
"But I…" Carson wrang his hands. "I injected people with that stuff, that serum. I did more than anyone else…"
"And no more than anyone else did," Sheppard said firmly. If his conjecture was right, Carson had been one of the first to be infected, by Major Brett himself. Sheppard and McKay had resisted, but many strong people had succumbed, including many military officers, and scientists accustomed to standing up to McKay. There was no shame in it. "And I trusted you," he said, "and you didn't let me down."
Carson still looked tormented. It occurred to Sheppard that there was a long, slow recovery ahead for many people in Atlantis. It was easy for him, on the outside, to say that they should move past it and forget about it, but how would he feel if he had shot one of his own men, or hunted a friends through the city? He shook his head, dismissing it. He would not judge them, but he could not help them heal. He didn't have the words.
"Colonel Caldwell…" Carson seemed to remember what he had come to say. "He'll live, but he's not good. I don't know if he… I didn't give him proper care while I was… while I was not myself. What if I…?"
"I saw you treating him." Sheppard felt embarrassed by all this, but he knew that this was something Carson needed to hear.
Carson heaved a shaky breath, passing his hands across his face. "Anyway, he wants to see you. Can you…?"
Sheppard swung his legs over the side of the bed. Apart from the wound in his thigh, which caused Carson to exclaim and shout for crutches, he felt fine. "Where is he?"
And at times things seemed almost like a dream, as if he was still half-lost in the fog. Caldwell was wired up to far too many machines, and he looked like an outline of a man, without the colours fleshing him in. "Major Sheppard." He nodded with his eyes, seemingly too weak to do anything else.
Sheppard settled himself down on the chair beside his bed. He hated seeing strong men like this; there were too many memories involved. "Colonel." A little late, he remembered to add a rough approximation of a salute.
"I'll cut to the chase," Caldwell said. "Don't think I can stay awake for much longer. This…" His eyes gestured at his body. "Not going to kill me, they say, but unless the doctors on Earth have a different taken on it, apparently the prognosis is grim for a full recovery. Enough for normal life, but for the Air Force… No."
Sheppard said nothing. There was nothing that he could say that was not an insult. To never fly again…
"I've been hearing things about you," Caldwell said. "Doctor Weir, in particular. And Doctor McKay had some choice things to say."
Sheppard stared straight ahead, his hands gripping the sides of the chair.
"Doctor Weir has friends in high places, she tells me." Caldwell smiled, but the smile soon turned into a grimace of pain. Sheppard pretended not to see. "I was going to recommend it, anyway."
Sheppard breathed it, and held it.
"I was too hasty when I first met you," Caldwell said. "From all accounts, you're the only one who saw clearly through this whole sorry mess. You risked your life to save the city. I'm going to recommend that you're given the chance to do so again."
He let out a breath, tried not to show the hope on his face.
"Of course, they'll insist on a promotion. I can't promise, mind, but that'll be my recommendation." He shifted; grimaced again. "Now please get the doc."
Sheppard left.
Hours passed quickly, and the fog still didn't return.
Sheppard drifted through Atlantis, not sure what his place was. He still had no quarters, though he had no desire to return to the infirmary. Caldwell's news was a recommendation only, and not confirmed. Caldwell was still in command, but when men Sheppard had once commanded came to him almost sheepishly for orders, he gave them. News seemed to have spread. By the time evening came, he felt as if he had his sleeves rolled up, and was deep in the work of restoring the city to normal.
Elizabeth found him as he wandered through a lull, wondering whether to head for a balcony, or to try to find himself somewhere to spend the night.
"I just wanted you to know…" She looked uncharacteristically nervous. "What Brett said… And what I said to you before that…"
"Doesn't matter," he told her. It wasn't entirely true, but it was true enough. It had hurt at the time, but he supposed she had ever cause to distrust him. Hell, he'd probably have asked serious questions had someone he known returned two years after apparently dying. As he had said to McKay, what mattered was how you acted afterwards.
"But I…"
"It doesn't matter." It was the same as he had said to Carson. He couldn't help if people felt their own private guilt. All he could do was freely give his forgiveness for any wrong they felt they had done to him, and hope that was enough.
She smiled, clearly not entirely buying it, but managing to live with it, for now. "It was just because you were completely right." Her words belied her smile. "I didn't want to hear it. But it will be different from now on. Whatever happens with… with that. Whatever happens… I'll make sure things are different."
With that. He thought he knew what she meant, and her next words confirmed it. "Caldwell talked to you, I know. I'm recommending really strongly that you're allowed to take up your old position. Even if they don't allow that, I'll fight them tooth and nail if they try to get rid of you. You'll still have a team and a place at the conference table."
He hoped she wasn't motivated out of guilt. He searched her eyes, but couldn't read them. He was not always good at such things.
She grabbed his hands and squeezed it tightly, just once. "I'm glad you're back, John." Her eyes were shining, but when she turned away, he thought she looked a little embarrassed.
He knew he should give her a reply, but he had no words, just a nod.
In the end, he just appropriated a spare room, grabbed some bedding from the stores, and made himself at home. He wondered what had happened to the sparse quantity of personal items that he had had in his old room. A few things had meant something to him, although items were less important than people… and until a few months ago, he would have said that people didn't mean that much, either.
He lay down on the bed, but couldn't sleep. After an hour of it, he left the room, wondering if he could find one of the others.
His limping steps took him to the training rooms, where he heard sounds that showed that one room was still in use. He opened the door, and saw Teyla and Ronon practicing stick fighting. They became aware of him instantly - he knew that by minute changes to their stance - but finished their bout before stopping.
"I thought you guys were injured," Sheppard said.
"Which is why we are not fighting properly," Teyla said. "I am teaching Ronon the initial techniques of the style."
Ronon grinned. "I'd kick her ass if we fought for real." Sheppard wondered if Ronon had always known that phrase, or if he was picking things up from the Marines already.
Sheppard sat down on the bench at the edge of the room, stretching his leg out in front of him. Despite having slept for the best part of a day, he was deeply weary, and suddenly hoped very sincerely that Teyla, too, didn't come to him with her face full of guilt, begging for forgiveness. We're good, he thought at her. Surely they had both shown that by the manner of their last words in the small room, in the way she had stayed to guard the door, in the way she had walked with him to the Gate that final time. Actions meant more than words, always.
"Wanna try, though," Ronon said, still grinning. "Then I'll fight you."
"You'll kick my ass, that's for sure," Sheppard said, with no trace of regret.
He traced his finger up and down the seat beside him, tracing patterns. Breathing hard, Teyla came and sat beside him, not close, but close enough. "Even before I knew you were going to live," she said, "I told Elizabeth that I wanted to stay. She has already let it known that I am allowed to carry weapons, and that I can walk freely through the city. Though perhaps she should have asked you first."
His finger froze mid-pattern. "Then you've heard. It's not certain yet. But it does look as if I'll be staying, yes." It was so easy to say, but it meant so much. "Even if they send someone else, I'll have a team…" His words ran out. He had never been able to say the truly important things.
But Teyla always knew. "Yes, I will." She smiled.
Sheppard nodded his thanks, then his eyes flickered to Ronon. "I know you probably want to go…"
"Got nowhere to go." Ronon stated it like fact, with no apparent emotion.
"Uh… Yes…" His finger started moving again, but he stopped it. "If you want to… It doesn't have to be permanent, just for as long as…" But he remembered Ronon saying that he wouldn't follow the orders of someone he didn't respect. "Of course, if you don't want…"
Ronon flashed his teeth. "It was good to fight with others. I'll stay."
And it was as simple as that.
Ford found him not long after, and Sheppard cursed himself, knowing that he should have sought out the young lieutenant earlier. Looking after the physical well-being of his men came so easy; looking after the emotional well-being was something he was just not equipped to deal with.
"Sir…" Ford looked terrible, as if he hasn't slept for a week.
Sheppard gestured to him that he should follow, and led the way to a balcony. And then he cursed himself again, for it was the same balcony that Ford had attacked him on.
"I'm so sorry, sir," Ford blurted out, as soon as they were private. "I shot at you. And I need to find Teyla and McKay. I hurt both of them. I tried to kill them."
"But you didn't."
Ford slammed his fist against the railing. "But I tried to."
"And you didn't," Sheppard said patiently. "Teyla told me what happened. You didn't aim at her. You didn't look to make sure that she was dead. I bet that's because you didn't want her to be dead, but you didn't want Brett to know."
Ford gripped the railing. "I…"
"Stop it." Sheppard barked it like a command. "You succumbed to mind control, just like virtually everyone else on the base. And, no, McKay and I managed to resist, but don't beat yourself up about that. Everyone else was taken. But who else managed to shake it off in the end?"
Ford was looking away, out across the ocean.
"Lieutenant," Sheppard commanded. "Listen to me. You shook it off. You saved us all. You knew that McKay wasn't dialling Earth, and you didn't tell anyone. You didn't kill Teyla. You came good in the end. You have nothing at all to feel bad about. Of course…" He smiled. "I doubt McKay will see it that way. He'll probably moan for months about the life-threatening scratch you gave him, but that's McKay for you. Just ignore him."
"I…" Ford turned towards him, desperate hope on his young face. "They say you're staying here. Can I be on your team? Please?"
And this was something that he had to crush. Aiden Ford had been so confident and so cheerful, capable of anything. Life had driven all that out of him, and the rot had started with Sheppard's own disappearance. "No." He shook his head. "I should never have put you on my team, Ford. You deserved to lead a team of your own. You still do. And that's my deal. If I get the prime off-world team, you get the second. It's what you deserve."
Ford stood blinking, the lights of Atlantis suffusing his face with silver and making him look very young.
"I've not seen you do anything you can be ashamed of," Sheppard told him truthfully. "I saw you keep your head under fire, and put your team first. And in the end, McKay gambled everything on your strength of character, and he was right. You're far more able than you think you are, Ford. I'm going to give you the chance to find out."
Sheppard himself stood in the shadow, and was grateful for it. He was not made for such speeches, and he was no shrink. The memory of the fog was close enough, and today he could still speak of such things. He grinned, clapping Ford on the shoulder. "Best get some sleep, lieutenant. I plan to make you work hard for your pay."
"Yes, sir. Thank you sir."
"Ford…" Sheppard said warningly.
Ford hurried off, but Sheppard caught a quick glimpse of him in the doorway, and saw that he was smiling.
He let out a breath, and stood at the railing, looking up at a sky that was entirely free from fog.
And it was there, hours later, that McKay found him. "You're staying," McKay said, without preamble. "Going to get promoted. Lieutenant-Colonel Sheppard. That'll be hard to remember. And leading a team."
"Did they put it up in lights?" Sheppard asked. Honesty forced him to admit, "And it's not certain yet. It's just a recommendation."
"From Caldwell and Elizabeth. And Elizabeth has friends in high places, as I've heard her say at least three times today. She can be one scary lady. I'd kind of forgotten that."
They stood together in silence for a while, looking at the stars. But Rodney was not really made for silence. "So this team…"
"You're on it, McKay."
"Oh. Oh." He couldn't see McKay's face, but he heard the pleasure, badly concealed by the complaining. "Oh God, back to the life of wacky adventures and running for our lives. I'll have you know that I've been injured twice since you came back. I suppose this is what I'll have to get used to now - running along behind you as you lead me into one ridiculous…"
"And Teyla," Sheppard added. "And Ronon."
"The barbarian?" McKay looked at him as if he had gone crazy. "Just don't blame me when he disembowels us all."
Sheppard let out a slow breath, suddenly ridiculously content. He knew he had no right to be. His future was not yet ensured, but he was fairly sure that Elizabeth would pull strings to ensure that he had at least some position on Atlantis. Several men were dead because he had given the order that they could be killed, and although he could not regret that order, he could still mourn them. Brett had gone, and he could perhaps have brought him back, but he had not fought it. But all of those were guilts for late at night, when he was alone.
For now, he stood above the ocean in a city that whispered to him and told him that he was at home. McKay was beside him - irritating, infuriating, familiar McKay. There was no talking with McKay. There was no I'm sorry I said… or How can you forgive…? McKay had pushed him away, and then, somehow, along the way he had slotted back into his old position as comrade and sparring partner and… yes, and friend. Sheppard had not really stopped to think about it, and he doubted that McKay had thought about it, either.
So much was still uncertain. Atlantis had a long road to recovery, not just from this latest crisis, but from the distrust and the breaches that had apparently risen up over the years. He had no magical answer for that - he was no shrink - but no matter what position he ended up in, he would do whatever he could to help it recover. Deeds, not words. Action. Look to the future. Stay positive now, and forget the fog - forget that the fog had ever existed. Look forward, never back.
But there, as he stood with McKay beneath the stars that spoke of the future, he remembered Elizabeth's last words to him. I'm glad you're back. He hadn't been able to answer her, but perhaps now he could. "I'm glad I'm back." He breathed them quietly under his breath, then turned to McKay, grinning.
"Fancy a late night raid on the mess hall?"
"As long as there's chocolate involved."
They turned way from the ocean. As they did so, Sheppard trailed his fingers softly over the wall, feeling the city's hum. "I'm glad I'm back," he said out loud, and McKay snapped his head towards him, startled, perhaps, into honesty, and said, "So am I."
Yes, Sheppard thought, and he smiled. The city enfolded him, warm with the sense of home, and Rodney was beside him, and Teyla and Ronon not too far away. I'm glad I'm home.
END
Notes (I always do rather long author's notes):
Thanks to everyone who's stuck with this to the end. And thanks in particular to those who've reviewed. I'm very grateful. This was my first long story in this fandom, so I was very nervous. Still am, of course. The more people seem to like a story, the more convinced I get that I'm going to throw it all away and disappoint them in the final chapters.
This story is now on my website in a single file, for anyone who fancies a reread without the distraction of author's notes along the way.
I agonised long and hard over the ending. There are a tonne of character issues that need to be worked out, and I could easily have filled 4 or 5 chapters of aftermath. However, it would have felt like just that - like aftermath. The tension was over. So I opted to keep it short, and have the final chapter just imply the way things are going to go, without going into details.
However, it had occurred to me that a sequel is entirely possible. I don't mean a "return of the nasty fairy woman person thing", or a "return of the things that possessed Major Brett, whatever they were." No, I mean a completely different and self-contained adventure, that just happens to be set in this AU, a couple of months after this story. This would allow me to explore such issues as Ford's self-confidence, Carson's guilt, the healing of Atlantis, and all the other things that are outstanding at the end of this story.
I'm making no promises. I have a few shorter story ideas I want to play with first, and don't as yet have any clear ideas on the actual plot of any such sequel. But one day, perhaps, I might return to this AU.
Speaking of AUs… This was actually my first ever SGA fanfic idea, but I forced myself to sit on it for a while, while I wrote some shorter pieces that weren't AU. It seemed a bit foolhardy to launch myself into a new fandom by writing a long AU, before I'd even written the "real" versions of all the characters. However, I do love AUs, especially ones where one small change has led to a darker future, so may very well write others. I like the freedom AUs offer to take characters on a long emotional journey, without having to return them in the same condition as they were when I got them.
This was also the first long story I posted as a WIP, rather than posting serially once I'd finished writing it. I'm still not entirely decided on which posting method I prefer, but I think I'm tending to favour the WIP method, as long as I keep a good buffer of chapters between what I'm posting and what I'm writing.
Thanks once again for reading!