Chapter 02
It had been a week since Carson had sent him ‘home’, making a strict schedule of what therapy he had to go to and when, and it was already driving him nuts.
After Dr. Cale had examined him at the SGC and Carson dumped the damn ugly truth on him, it had been another month before Carson had released him back into the wild.
With help from Carson, Teyla and Ronon had done a good job adjusting his apartment for his current misfortune of being in a damn wheelchair. He barely recognized the place as somehow Teyla had found Athosian-style furnishings to decorate it, making his apartment feel more like the home he’d been forced to leave behind in Pegasus.
When John wasn’t off at physio or fooling the shrink into thinking he was fine with everything that had happened, Torren was using him as a playmate, which was fine with John. It didn’t feel as if he were living his own life right now anyway, and just decided to give in to what everyone else wanted to make sure they kept off his case.
Getting around the apartment on his own was a bit hard considering his left arm still wasn’t cooperating that well, despite the physio he received at the SGC. When it did work, he liked to roll himself to his bedroom and stare into nothingness for a while. He was grateful that Cale had been right about one thing; even though sudden light changes left him blind for a moment, the pain with it had disappeared.
In all honesty, his apartment was just too small for him, Teyla, and Torren and occasionally Carson or Ronon when they stayed over, and it was sometimes too overwhelming to be cooped up all day, after being cooped up at the SGC for so long.
More often than not, he had nightmares that didn’t make any sense, about Elsa, or Atlantis, or clowns performing an autopsy on him. Fortunately, they hadn’t been that bad since he’d been home because he doubted that Teyla would appreciate it if he woke her up in the middle of the night with his screams.
“Uncle John!” Torren ran over to him when he rolled himself into the living room. He crawled onto his lap and smiled widely. “Market day.”
John looked at Teyla and sighed. “Do I have to come with you?” he asked as he did not want to be stared at like an invalid
“You don’t have anything else to do, Colonel,” Teyla replied. “And it’s good to go outside every once in a while.” She handed him his sunglasses and a ball cap. He wasn’t so fond of the cap, mostly because his hair managed to push it off his head, but the sunglasses alone at this time weren’t enough to dim the light of the low-hanging sun.
“Alright.” He nodded and looked at Torren, who was still smiling. “Do you know something that I don’t?”
“Yes!” Torren squealed and turned around to properly sit on John’s lap.
John eyed Teyla suspiciously. “Should I be afraid?”
“Relax, John,” Teyla chuckled as she started to push him out of the apartment. “We’re going to the market, I like how they trade there.”
He rolled his eyes. “Typical woman. Spending money.”
“You need to eat, yes?” She smiled widely. “I like the market food better than what they’re trying to trade in your supermarkets.”
“That is because it is usually fresher and straight from a farm. They don’t have your tava beans for your tea here, though.” He frowned, feeling down again for his friend.
“No, but your people have tea leaves, and I must admit, they are better than tava beans.”
He tried to turn in the chair with the boy still in his lap to look at her in shock. “Really now. I wasn’t expecting to hear something like that from you.”
“John, as much as I’m trying to stay with the customs my people had, it does not hurt to try new things in life. Yes, I am a little disappointed that I can’t make tuttle root soup, but there are good alternatives.”
John mouthed a ‘thank you, God’ after turning around in his chair. She did not miss it either as she went to push the chair close enough to the elevator for Torren to press the down button. “One of the stand owners has promised to share some recipes with me today. I am eager to try some new dishes but I would also really love to order that chicken dish from the Italian restaurant tonight, if you do not mind.”
He made a face at the thought. Since coming to Earth, and since he had come home from the SGC, he learned that she had developed what he believed to be a rather unhealthy obsession with pollo alla potentina. Frankly, John was sick of it. “Why won’t you let me cook tonight? I’ll make you something you’ll like, but please, no more chicken.”
“I would, if you could reach the cooking stove.” Teyla pushed him into the elevator, laughing.
“There’s a grill on the balcony of the apartment, I don’t need to use the stove,” John replied. “I can make something you’ll love while in the chair.”
“I have had steaks before, I didn’t like them.” Teyla made a face after doing the math.
“Believe me, you will like them the way I make them, with homemade sauce.”
“I want some!” Torren bounced around. “Let Uncle John cook!”
“Two against one, Teyla,” John grinned.
She smiled in the way she had when she had been dealing with him with Rodney and Aiden in the early days, an amused mother to full-grown children. “Very well. However, I will prepare the side vegetables. No arguments.”
“Deal.” John would happily give up his potato salad for a steak. He was happy; at least he had something to do now that didn’t require him to feel like a helpless idiot.
Teyla sighed as she thought about how things had been recently and the frustration that she knew her friend was going through feeling, experiencing after being so strong and busy for so long. “When we return, we can make a list of what we each would be responsible for, if you like. Such as you could manage loading the dish cleaning machine after meals?”
“I could do that,” John agreed. “Thanks, Teyla.”
It took him a second or two to adjust to the bright sunlight, but was happy that he didn’t have to focus on walking at the same time. Yes, sunglasses were his best friends now.
Once they were at the market, Torren was bouncing on his lap. For some reason the little kid was psyched to be at the market and it didn’t take him long to find out why; there were clowns, and Torren seemingly loved clowns.
“Really?” John sighed and shook his head. “They’re not even…”
Teyla swatted him on the head. “Torren likes these masked men, let him enjoy watching them.”
“Have you taken him to the circus yet?” John wondered, knowing that there had been a point in his life as a kid when he’d loved the circus.
“No, I have not, because Carson looked at me in a funny way when I asked him to explain the circus to me,” Teyla replied. “He made it sound like it was pure torture.”
“Not really, kids love the circus, it’s only a torture if you don’t like…” He pointed at the clowns. “The clowns.”
She nodded and smiled as Torren continued to be fascinated by the show. His glee increased when one of the clowns came over to give him a balloon and do a short little dance for him. To John’s dismay he began remembering the dream he had had not long after he first woke up from his coma. The hand not holding onto the child gripped the arm of his wheelchair tightly. Teyla noticed and made sure they did not stay much longer in case John continued to react negatively.
One of the clowns gave Torren a flyer. Of course, John thought. The circus is in town… He actually wondered why he had brought it all up, considering the dream or nightmare he had had about Elsa the trapeze artist.
“Can we go?” Torren smiled and pointed at the flyer, probably not knowing what was on it exactly, just seeing a huge tent on it.
You’ll have to, he told himself, maybe out of some kind of self-inflicted torture, or maybe just to please the kid. “If your mom says we can go, we can go,” John said bravely and ruffled Torren’s hair.
“Mo-o-om?”
“Maybe,” Teyla said warmly. “But for now, We should go and buy food.”
He’d liked being outside for the time they were out, but he was also glad to be back at the apartment. He was still thinking about why he had started talking about the circus and pretending as if clowns were okay. He wasn’t afraid of clowns, he just hated them, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the good part of that dream, Elsa hanging upside down smiling like the biggest goof on the planet.
However, it would be a great experience for Torren to see the circus, and maybe John didn’t have to go with them if Carson or Ronon or someone else stayed behind to look after him if he needed extra help. He wondered when it would stop, though, people treating him like he was a ticking time bomb, or like he was a child, or even worse: trying to make him talk about his true feelings.
Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? He’d be fine with food as he had a grill on the balcony, he wouldn’t mind having to eat steak and potato salad for the rest of his life if he had to. “Hey, Teyla?” He helped Torren off his lap and frowned. When had Torren climbed on his lap? “Can we please not have chicken tonight?” he asked, looking at the bags of groceries they had brought back. He had only been ‘home’ for a week, and they’d had chicken something from the Italian for two or three of those days, and it wasn’t even that good.
“Yes John, we can have your steak,” she replied, sighing. She had gotten used to the forgetfulness and repetition with him since he was released, but it continued to concern her. It wasn’t the John she knew but she was well aware of the trauma of the evacuation. No one was the same after Atlantis. Well, except maybe Ronon, as he’d had the destruction of his home before, so he had the experience to cope.
“Oh! You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he replied with a grin grabbing the bag of charcoal off the floor and wheeling himself towards the balcony.
“Yes, I do,” she said with a pained expression. She did not care for steak nearly as much as he did. More often than not, she felt ill after eating it and at times ended up vomiting it up. Teyla didn’t dare tell him because he would try to pull rank on her and make her get examined, but Carson had already explained to her that it was normal and there were many people did not digest certain meats very well. Starting the vegetable sides, she busied herself in the kitchen after setting Torren up at the table with his book and crayons.
“It looks great out here, doesn’t it?” Elsa smiled; it was her first time off world and she was as hyper as a Duracell bunny, something that annoyed John in many ways.
“Sure,” he replied and pushed her forward. She was worse than Rodney, who had managed to get himself caught up in some sort of ritual in the local village. “It’s not really necessary for you to be here, but I don’t want to take any chances with Rodney, even though he says it’s fine.”
“I’m surprised you got me, and not Carson.”
John shrugged. “You were starting to look a little pale… and it looked like you were married to the infirmary,” he said. “I bribed Carson for you to come with.”
“You’re a bad liar,” Elsa pointed out and hopped over a few rocks. “So, how dangerous is this ritual and why did you let them go ahead with it?”
“Ask Rodney,” John replied. “He might need a brain check-up when we’re back on Atlantis, I’m sick and tired of this God complex he has sometimes.”
“Unlike him being fed up with your stubbornness and knack for getting yourself almost killed?”
“That’s different.”
“JOHN!” Teyla’s voice pulled him out of that wonderful memory that was playing in his head and before he knew it, he was doused with water.
“Teyla, what the hell!” he cried out.
She looked at him with wide-eyed fear as she pointed towards the grill that was now drowned by the water. The steaks on it were charred black and black dark, inky, smoky… scorches around the rim indicated that the flames had gotten out of control. “You almost burned yourself to death,” she said. “I been calling for you…What were you thinking about?”
“Sorry.” He stared at her in shock. “Did I do that?” he asked in confusion and shook his head. “I’m… oh god Teyla…”
“What happened?” she asked, kneeling at his side.
“I was just thinking how nice this apartment actually is… I never really appreciated the view for what it was…” he said softly. “Then I remembered the first time Elsa went off world and how beautiful it was out there, and… I guess I forgot…” He waved helplessly at the grill. “I’m so sorry…” God, he was a mess.
Teyla got up to wheel him back inside. “I will clean this up. You can call and order a pizza, okay? We can save the vegetables for tomorrow.”
He sighed and slowly nodded. “I’m so sorry, Teyla… I should have paid more attention, this has never happened before.”
“It is alright. I am more concerned that you are not injured from the fire,” she said. “This is still very much a large adjustment for all of us. I know you are doing your best.”
He made a mental note to go to his room after dinner as he reached for the phone. He knew Teyla wouldn’t let him skip dinner, but he felt sick. What the hell was wrong with him? Sure, his mind had been scattered, and Carson had noticed it too, but he said that it was normal for someone with memory loss. Whatever, he thought bitter and continued to dial the number of the pizza delivery guy. “Torren buddy, what would you like to have on your pizza?”
“Fish!”
“Fish it is.” John nodded, feeling nauseated at the thought of anchovies. He could always lie to the kid and say the pepperoni was fish but doubted Teyla would approve. When the place answered, he asked if they had personal sized pizzas and was relieved that they did. He ordered one with anchovies for the boy and a large pie half pepperoni, half veggie and extra cheese all around. There, Teyla got her vegetables, Torren got his fish, John got his pepperoni. All was right in the world.
He loaded up the dishwasher after dinner and then decided to treat himself to a shower. He smelled of burnt meat that was reminiscent of the smell of the flesh in his memories, fire and water, and didn’t like it one bit. Of course, taking a shower was a lot of work these days. First, he had to manage to get out of his clothes, then drive himself into the shower and hop on the chair standing underneath the faucet. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said to Teyla, who was reading a bed time story to Torren. “I will try to make it quick.”
He got a fresh set of jogging pants and a clean t-shirt and boxers and made his way towards the bathroom, deciding to undress in there. He took off his shoes, then socks and wrestled with his pants before the smell of burnt things got stuck in his nose.
“Why isn’t Atlantis responding to the fires?” John asked Rodney, who could only shrug. “I’m going to the chair.”
“If you do that, you’d probably end up dead,” Rodney snapped. “They’ve smartened up, those stupid Genii soldiers, so no, just let it burn and get extinguishers if I tell you to or something, just… shut up and let me work.”
“Colonel, they’re heading towards the Jumper bay, what do you want us to do?” Stackhouse’s voice sounded from behind him.
“Stop them?” John suggested as he pulled one of the bodies to the side. “I’m going to set some C4. Stay here McKay.”
He managed to get his shirt off while he tried not to cry, crying was bad, and he didn’t want to upset Teyla, or Torren for that matter. If only he had been able to get to the chair room, then he could have avoided the mess that followed the Genii’s takeover. He hauled himself up, wobbling on his feet as he turned around to sit down on the chair in the shower. He attempted to hold back a shiver when the water was cold at first, and started to adjust the heat until it was perfect. He needed to get rid of the smell, and fast.
“Oh my God, is that Parrish?” Rodney exclaimed before John could run towards the corridor a floor above them to set some charges.
“I don’t know,” John said. “We’ll do a full head count once we’ve gotten rid of the Genii.” The body didn’t look like Parrish, apart from his body build maybe, but he really couldn’t be certain as his face was blown to bits from a close-ranged shot to the back of his head.
He made his way to one or two corridors ahead of Rodney and started to place the C4, nearly tripping over another body. He tried not to look at the bodies he encountered,; he wanted to get this over and done with and then later, maybe, mourn the ones lost. “Oh crap, Lorne…”
John had to shoot a patrol of Genii soldiers en route to his next C4 placement area destination. He was angry now; Lorne had been a good man, a good soldier, and the Genii had killed him. Attacking his home was one thing, going after good people was another and trying to keep the casualties on both sides to a minimum was no longer an option. He now fully understood Teyla’s rage after finding out that her people were among the first to die.
Speaking of Teyla, he wondered where she was.
He managed to clean himself up while he remembered Lorne’s and Parrish’s bodies. He couldn’t get it out of his head, especially Parrish, how his face had been blown off. John would never have thought that the Genii would be that ruthless, although they had proven before that they had the potential to be that volatile. John now wondered who had been in charge, it must have been someone who knew the city very well.
He dried himself off and got into his clean clothes, trying to do so while standing upright. He wanted to be able to stand on his own without wobbling around or falling over, but he quickly realized that he still couldn’t. Frustrated, he let himself fall into his wheelchair and did it the ‘old man’ way.
“Can I do something anything for you?” He asked Teyla as he rolled back in to the living room. When she shook her head, he wished her good night and spent the rest of the night lying awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering when he’d be okay again. He was sick and tired of being useless, taking up space that could easily have been used for someone else. He hadn’t been home for longer than a week and he hated that Teyla was looking after him. He hated spacing out, it nearly got him burned today. He hated being unable to be the man he used to be; he was currently stuck in a chair and he sometimes doubted that he would get out of it any time soon.
Carson had said that there wasn’t anything wrong with his legs, but that they hadn’t been used for a very long time due to his coma, hence why he needed physical therapy. All John needed, according to Carson, was patience and faith.
He had neither.
“No, no… Torren… noo…” John managed to laugh when Torren hugged his legs as he got into the apartment, but all he wanted to do was to cry when he fell down. At least he managed it so that Torren wasn’t squashed under his weight.
It had been nearly nine months since he had been allowed to go home from the SGC and it was approaching the one year anniversary of Atlantis’ destruction. The physical therapist had finally allowed him to leave the wheelchair and try to walk with a cane, and John knew that it had been Carson who had been stalling the therapist’s decision.
He had been going crazy in his wheelchair, despite regaining control over his arm and sneakily walking around in his own bedroom for months. The wheelchair had been a way to try to control him and make sure he didn’t do anything stupid.
At least he had become better at pretending everything was okay. He installed a new security system in the apartment, telling everyone that despite the fact that he knew that his apartment building was safe, and if not that Teyla could kick some serious ass, better safe than sorry. The real reason — and he hated to admit it — was that he knew that he could no longer defend himself, let alone those living with him. The fact was, he didn’t feel safe in his own home, or en route to therapy, or anywhere anymore.
John thought about asking Teyla if she would start sparring with him slowly so that he would be able to get back something of what he had had before. It would not be an easy task, but he desperately felt the need to be able to protect himself and he would do anything to accomplish that.
Now that he was allowed to walk around and go outside by himself (which scared the hell out of Teyla, he knew that) he found it hard not to be in a constant state of alertness when he walked the streets. Screeching cars made his heart race, a baker who threw his crates in the alley made him pause to catch his breath, and overall there were too many dangers outside to actually enjoy being there.
Not that he told anyone. He wasn’t a baby, he used to be an Air Force pilot, saving galaxies and kicking ass. Now that he was out of the wheelchair, he noticed that it was easier to pretend he was okay, because he wasn’t obviously crippled.
“What did I tell you, buddy?” John slowly sat up and ruffled Torren’s hair. “Don’t surprise me like that because as you see, I will fall and I don’t want to hurt you.” He smiled, got Torren to his feet, and got up himself.
“Did you bring me something?”
“You’re spoiled.” John replied and fished a lollypop out of the pocket of his jeans. “Don’t run around with it.”
“Thanks!” Torren smiled widely.
John still had nightmares, although they were becoming less frequent. He usually managed to muffle his screams by falling asleep with his pillow over his head. His shrink, whom he hated because there was something about the guy that gave him the creeps, had given him some medication to help him sleep, and something else to stop him from zoning out and flooding the apartment again when drawing a bath. It had been hell to clean up too, not to mention, the people living in the apartment downstairs weren’t all too happy either.
He and Teyla still had to have ‘the talk’, where Teyla would tell him exactly what happened with Elsa, and he still wanted to know, but Teyla still wasn’t ready for it. He never asked, knowing that she would come to him when she was ready.
The SGC had planned a memorial service for the lives lost on Atlantis for sometime next week, and even though he didn’t want to go, he had to. He hadn’t spoken to any of the survivors apart from Teyla, Ronon, and Carson.
He hadn’t gone to Lt. Cadman’s funeral when her family finally decided to take her off life support. He hadn’t gone to visit Katie Brown at her new job, tending to some big tropical garden with special plants in some zoo. He was happy to hear from Ronon that Chuck was working as a gate tech for the SGC now that Walter had retired, and that Stackhouse was serving on SG-3. A scientist who worked with Rodney was working at Area 51, and the families of Vega and Banks were still hoping that one day, their daughters would wake up from their comas.
He didn’t need to be confronted by the fact that he hadn’t been able to save his people, or at least more of them.
As he walked further into the apartment, he found Ronon and Teyla sitting on the couch talking with some fighting program on the television. He looked at them suspiciously because as soon as he entered the room, they stopped talking and had pensive expressions on their faces. Well, Teyla did, at least. Ronon looked pissed.
“Hey…” he said as he greeted them both. “What’s wrong?
“I was trying to do you a favor,” Ronon grunted. “And that favor isn’t cooperating.”
John blinked, and then shrugged it off. “I see…” he said. “Are you staying for dinner?”
Teyla glared at Ronon as she answered her friend. “He is not.”
John nodded. Ronon must have seriously pissed Teyla off for her to deny Ronon dinner. “Oh, I went to look for a job after therapy,” he said. Carson had been on his case to do something useful during the times that he wasn’t in therapy so he wouldn’t hang around at the apartment all the time, and the SGC had basically abandoned him. “I didn’t really find anything yet, when I went in to ask for details they implied that they don’t hire cripples or old people,” he said lightly to diffuse the tense atmosphere. Regardless of discrimination laws, he knew that they would come up with alternate reasons why he wasn’t considered – being overqualified he later discovered that many said.
“I’d better go.” Ronon got up. He patted John on the back on his way to the door. “Keep trying.”
He watched his friend leave before turning back to Teyla. “What was he talking about?”
“You’re doing a great job in trying to get back onto your feet, John,” Teyla smiled half-heartedly. “And you shouldn’t give up.”
“You’re making me nervous, Teyla,” he replied slowly as he studied her carefully. “Who said that I was going to give up?”
“We all know how you handle disappointment, John, and words of encouragement rarely seem to help.”
“Teyla…”
“I know, you’re ‘fine’.” She smiled sweetly and got up. “What did you have in mind for dinner, it is your day today, is it not?”
“Stop changing the subject. What were you and Ronon talking about, because frankly I am sick and tired of everyone talking about me or walking on eggshells around me. Anything about me, tell me!”
“Fine.” Teyla looked up to him with grief in her eyes. “Ronon was trying to convince me to tell you about how Elsa… You must understand that she was my friend too.”
“I know, Teyla. Which is why I haven’t asked you to tell me, I know that when you’re ready, you will.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Frankly, I’m actually wondering when I’ll remember it on my own.”
She lowered her head in grief. “Carson told me that you might never remember it on your own. That some block in your mind might be keeping it from you, to protect you.”
“Then so be it,” he said after thinking about it. “Honestly, Teyla, I want to know what happened, I’m still trying to get a full picture of the siege in my head and I do remember things on my own. Not as fast as I want to, but I can’t complain about it because it’s obviously my body telling me to slow down too.” He lifted her chin and made her look at him. “I don’t blame you for not telling me. I’m not angry.”
She sighed and shook her head. “No. Ronon is right, though. In knowing, you might be able to truly put Atlantis behind you and it is difficult in keeping such information from you.”
“Teyla, only when you’re willing to share, then I’ll listen,” he said softly. “I don’t want to hurt you even more than I already have. Elsa wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“No, but she did not like secrets either. Come with me,” Teyla said, as she took his hand to lead him back to his room. Torren did not need to see how John might react. However that might be, she was not entirely sure. “It was one of her greatest qualities and flaws that she could not and would not keep a secret such as this.”
He followed her to his room and closed the door. “I’m not sure Teyla.”
“Is anyone ever ready to receive ill-fated news?” she pointed out.
He sighed and sat down on the bed. “I guess you’re right.”
Teyla paced the floor, wringing her hands around her wrists nervously, as she thought on how she would word what she had to say. “You remember that she insisted on going back to the infirmary to help with one of the scientists who had been trapped but was yet undiscovered by Ladon’s men.”
“Wait, Ladon was among the Genii on Atlantis?” He frowned. “Really?”
“Yes, he was. We did not find him suspicious as he had done well by us in the past,” she explained. “Which was one of the reasons why their take-over had been a surprise.”
Had he had known that Ladon Radim had been on Atlantis when they took the Genii in, John would have made more sense of his flashbacks sooner. “It makes sense now.”
Teyla nodded and paused in her pacing to look out the window. “His second, I do not recall his name, was injured. He found Elsa trying to get out of the infirmary with a geologist who had been in there when the attack began. I am sure that he killed the scientist then forced Elsa to treat his injuries, and she was doing such when you and I arrived to get her.”
He slowly nodded. Elsa was always busy with her job, she wanted to do her absolute best and if not, die trying. It had been difficult to pry her away from the infirmary for her first off-world trip to look after Rodney, and even during their lunches together, she observed the people having lunch in the mess hall to look for a hint of sickness or other ailment.
Glancing back, Teyla found that John was managing well so far as he listened silently. “When we reached them, the Genii soldier took her by her neck and held his weapon to her. We had a standoff for, oh, I don’t know how long.” She sighed. “There was nothing but evil in his eyes. I could tell that he had no intention of leaving any of us alive…”
“She’s going to finish patching him up,” Ladon’s voice sounded as his man let go of Elsa, keeping his weapon trained on John and Teyla while the injured soldier had his gun on Elsa. “Shoot me, and he will shoot her.”
“Why are you doing this?” John demanded. His eyes were burning from the smoke coming from the corridor behind him, his chest was hurting from the knife wound he had received earlier, and he had a few broken ribs from continuously falling over and getting stuck under debris from collapsing ceilings.
“Until YOU came back to the galaxy with this ship of yours, we were doing fine in helping the people of this galaxy rebuild their worlds.”
“Oh, so it’s a jealousy thing then,” John said. “You could have said something. Instead, you’re destroying our home.”
“…just as we started to believe that he might actually let Elsa go and allow us to leave through the gate – he did not know we set the self-destruct – the soldier released her from his hold.”
“She had nothing to do with us coming back, this is her first time out of her own galaxy,” John tried. “You can let her go through the gate, as well as Teyla, and do whatever you want with me.”
“John, don’t. I won’t leave you,” Elsa said calmly but with clear fear in her voice. She held her head high but could not help in crying out when the soldier forced her to her knees.
The smile on the soldier’s face turned sadistic as he made the connection between the two. He grabbed Elsa by her hair and pulled back for her to look up at him. “She really is quite attractive, Colonel Sheppard. You have good taste,” he growled as he studied her, bending over to press his nose into her neck as a lover might.
He tightened the grip on his P90, not sure who to shoot first; Ladon or his lackey. “Let. Her. Go,” he ground out, trying to control his rage.
“No no, I think I might give her a try myself,” he taunted with a grin as he attempted to unbuckle his pants as Ladon held Sheppard and Teyla back. “Such a pretty thing…”
With Elsa on her knees John now had a clear shot of the soldier towering over her, but there was still Ladon to deal with, who was grinning like a madman. Yes, he was crazy for coming to Atlantis and attacking it from the inside out, crazy enough for it to actually work. John steadied his breath, and before he knew it, he had placed a bullet in the middle of the soldier’s head, dropping him to the floor like a house of cards.
“Instead of letting her go, Ladon turned his weapon from us to Elsa. He – he executed her right there. She did not have a chance to do anything but get out a few words before he pulled the trigger,” Teyla said before she broke down crying.
He just sat there in silence for a while, not realizing that he was holding his breath, not realizing that Teyla was sitting next to him now, crying. He had gripped his knees tightly, his knuckles were white and he was angry as hell. She didn’t even have a weapon, and that… scumbag shot her, he killed her, she was gone, the hope of ever seeing again was gone. What was there to live for now?
He slowly put his arm around Teyla, feeling numb, and softly comforted her by caressing her back. Apart from that, he hardly moved at all.
Once the initial shock began to wear off, Teyla laid her head on John’s shoulder. “Her last words,” she said softly, “her last words to you were that she would always love you. She knew that by going back to the infirmary, she would die. I saw that in her face when she insisted on helping.”
“She knew the risks…” he managed to say softly. “We all did…”
Teyla nodded. “Elsa would not want you to spend the rest of your life grieving for her but to cherish her memory and live. Please do not give up on living, for her.”
“Please tell me that I at least killed him.”
Taking a deep breath to find strength, she nodded. “Yes, and more. You were the one that had armed the self-destruct and right after Radim fell, you made a comment about all of them dying for what he did. You tried to go for her body but I could not let you. There was not much time left and I had to pull you out to get to the gate. Unfortunately, on the way, you and I got caught under another ceiling collapse. Sergeant Stackhouse had been on his way back when he found us and helped me get you out.”
For the lack of having anything better at hand, he threw his cane across the room. He was angry and sad at what had happened to Elsa, and even more angry with himself for not remembering on his own. He wanted to seriously hurt someone right then, but tried to remain calm. “Thank you, Teyla, for sharing this with me….”
“Please do not leave us,” she said barely in a whisper. Her greatest fear now was that John would cause himself harm, whether it was physical or emotional torture.
He couldn’t promise that. His first reaction was to go to a hotel for a couple of days to get it out of his system without causing harm to Teyla or, god forbid, Torren. “I can’t promise that,” he muttered and planted a kiss on the top of her head.
Nodding, Teyla wiped the tears from her eyes. “I will go check on Torren and give you time to yourself. I do not think you and I are very much up to eating lunch now but I must make something for him. If you would like anything, please let me know.”
He reached into the drawer of his bedside table and retrieved an Air Force-issued knife. He handed it to Teyla, who just stared at him in shock. “Just in case I do consider hurting myself.”
She looked down at it before taking it. “Thank you.”
He quietly spent the rest of the day in his room, not even going out to have dinner. He didn’t know what to do with himself, other than knowing that he really wanted to get into trouble, and hurt someone,. He wanted to release his anger, but he knew he’d probably get his ass handed back to him if he started a fight.
He wrote a note to Teyla, promising that he wasn’t leaving forever, and that he was even taking his cellphone with him, but that he needed to have some time to himself without disrupting the peace of the apartment, and scaring Torren in the process.
Late at night, he snuck out of the house and took a cab to the hotel that he had made reservations at earlier that day. Once there, he raided the mini bar while he cried his eyes out.
Of course, he’d known that there was no chance in hell that he’d ever see Elsa again, but with his own memory of her death failing, and Teyla finally telling him about her last moments, it was all too real all of a sudden. The woman he had dared to open himself up to after so long, was gone, never to return, and he had to continue to live with himself and the shitload of problems that had come down on him after he had woken up from his coma.
Sure, he had been lucky. For one, he had made it off Atlantis and he was up and about, and that had to mean something, right? Yeah, he’d rather have bounced back to his normal self, his confident, carefree and ABLE self, but that was impossible.
John was still angry with Carson and that specialist for telling him that he wasn’t allowed to go back to work at the SGC due to his injuries. He realized that they’d probably have made him retire anyway if he hadn’t been hurt, because of his tendency to do stupid things when feeling down.
He felt like crap, maybe it was for the best if he’d just end it all, but he didn’t want to leave Teyla. He couldn’t help but feeling guilty about disappearing when she asked (or begged) him not to leave them, something inside of him had shattered when she had said that.
He was tired of crying when he called room service to bring him more alcohol. He wasn’t drunk enough yet, he wanted to get completely wasted and forget about his pain for a while. Forget about about the uselessness of his life, the emptiness that he felt, and act like the pathetic jerk he was, but didn’t show his friends.
It was 7 am when someone finally knocked on the hotel room door and he staggered to open it – okay, so maybe there had been more alcohol in that mini bar than he had anticipated – thinking that it would be room service, only to find Carson standing in front of him.
Damn the tracker, he thought. He had forgotten about the subcutaneous tracker that came standard with signing the release forms and contracts for joining the Stargate program. “Tell me that you’ve at least brought alcohol,” John greeted his friend and stepped aside to let Carson into the room.
“Are you out of your mind?!” Carson ranted as soon as the door closed. “Teyla’s worried sick about you!”
“I’ve only been gone for a couple of hours… relax…”
“Make that days, Colonel.” Carson glared at him. “I hope you had your fun and your pity party, but it’s time for you to go home, and clean yourself up. Eat. Rest and feel fresh again tomorrow, as tomorrow you’ve got a memorial to attend to.”
“I haven’t been here for days!” John blurted. “I left the night Teyla told me about Elsa, which was yesterday.”
“That was Monday, yes. It’s Thursday,” Carson said worriedly. “Are you okay?”
“I was until you showed up,” John grunted.
“Have you had lapses in time before?”
“I don’t believe it’s Thursday,” John said. “So, no, I haven’t.”
Carson threw today’s paper at him. “See for yourself.”
John mouthed an ‘Oh’ when he managed to read the small date printed on the paper. “Teyla could have called me when she was worried,”
“She has, I have, Ronon has,” Carson said. “You weren’t picking up.”
“Oh.”
“Let’s pay for your room shall we? I’ll take you home.”
The moment he staggered into the apartment he got assaulted by Teyla, first hitting him a few times in the chest, then kicking his legs before she flung her arms around him and started to sob. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t know…”
Carson managed to pry Teyla off John and then pushed John into his room. “I need to check if he’s alright, Teyla, then you can hurt him in any way you see fit.”
“I don’t want to hurt him.” Teyla said in a tiny voice, happy that Torren was spending the day with Ronon. “This is the exact reason that I’m not letting him out without knowing where he is or where he’s going to, Carson,” she said. “He sometimes still forgets things or wanders off and then comes home all disorientated.”
“He had raided the mini bar in the hotel, and assaulted a few of the staff, I’m actually surprised that they called Cheyenne Mountain instead of the police.”
“I should never have told him…”
“It’s not your fault, Teyla,” Carson soothed her. “John needs to find a way to deal with his emotions. He used to do that by sparring with you or Ronon, or running around on Atlantis. Those aren’t options for him anymore.”
Teyla nodded and sighed. “Perhaps we moved too quickly with getting him on his feet? Do you think we should continue?”
“Oh yes, but now, let me check him out, I think he must have fallen asleep by now.” Carson smiled warmly at Teyla before he disappeared into John’s room.
“I’m fine,” John muttered when Carson started to examine him.
“You might be,” Carson said as he sat down on the bed. “But still, I’d like to take you in to make some scans of your head.”
“Not necessary, I’m fine. Just drunk.”
“John…”
“Carson, I’m drunk.” John looked at him. “That’s all, I’ll be fine and back to my usual self tomorrow, I promise.”
The doctor sighed heavily. “That’s our point. We are concerned about your usual self…” Carson looked at Teyla and quietly asked her to get some bottles of water so that their friend could begin the process of rehydrating himself.
“Look… I misbehaved, I get that,” John groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. “I’m working my ass off otherwise to satisfy the rest of you, I’m fine, I just slipped up.”
Teyla came back looking tired and emotionally drained. “Other than – this – he has been doing well. As you said, he previously had an outlet for his emotions…Would it be good if I began training with him again? It might help us both.”
“Aye, it might, if you’d take it slow.” Carson nodded and lifted the pillow off John’s head and pushed a bottle of water in his face. “Drink.”
“No.”
“Yes, otherwise I will call the SGC and have them lock you up in that padded room,” the doctor argued.
“I don’t think I care at this point.” John decided to humor Carson anyway and unscrewed the bottle before making the effort.
“You’re one depressing drunk,” Carson told him and handed him another bottle when John drained the first in one go.
“Better than a touchy-feely drunk,” John retorted and sighed, taking the other bottle and drinking that too. “Satisfied?” he glared at Carson.
The doctor shook his head no but said nothing. Opening another bottle he handed it over while Teyla watched on from across the room.
“Are you trying to drown me?”
“You need to get re-hydrated, you’ll feel better,” Carson said, wondering when John would drink up the bottle.
“And piss like a horse in an hour.”
“I’m not the one who decided to get drunk, now drink up.”
He sighed and drained the bottle, then nearly vomited the water right out again, but he managed to keep it inside. “Carson, one more bottle and I will throw up on you,” he warned as he lay back down, groaning, and feeling sick.
“Good. Serves you right,” Carson replied and left for Teyla to tend to the man.
Teyla managed a chuckle when she pulled the covers over the fully clothed – and slightly smelly – Colonel. “Rest, you have the entire day and night to sober up before the memorial tomorrow.”
“I’m not–”
“Yes, you are, Colonel.” Teyla hit him on the head and put the pillow back over his head. “Sleep well.”
John tightened the grip on his P90, not sure who to shoot first; Ladon or his lackey. “Let. Her. Go,” he said, trying to control his anger.
“No no, I think I might give her a try myself,” he growled with a grin as he attempted to unbuckle his pants. “Such a pretty thing…”
This time, though, as he managed to shoot the soldier, Teyla took out Ladon Radim. He felt a perverse sense of happiness when he pulled Elsa in his arms and kissed her senseless while Teyla insisted that they make their way towards the gate. “I’ll never leave you now, you’ve saved my life!” Elsa laughed.
John woke up crying, trying to find his bearings. Right, he was in bed. His own bed. Elsa wasn’t here. Of course not. She’s dead, he told himself and got out of bed. He needed to piss, and to take a shower. Then, he’d make himself some fried eggs with ham and cheese and a big mug of coffee to make him feel better. He was definitely hung over and didn’t know what time it was, and he honestly didn’t care.
He got rid of his smelly clothes by putting them in the hamper in the bathroom and stepped under the shower. For months he had to wash himself while sitting down, and now that he was able to stand, he was able to finish much quicker. After his shower, he went to shave himself – Carson had been right, he had been in that hotel room for days, according to his beard – and felt a lot better when he got into clean clothes.
Time for a good anti-hangover breakfast, he thought as he made his way to the kitchen where he found Teyla making tea. “Good day, John,” she chuckled. “You’ve slept well.”
“I have?”
“I was about to come and wake you myself,” Teyla said. “Carson is picking us up in an hour to go to the SGC.”
“I slept that long?”
“Yes. It is good to see you in good spirits, we are going to need that today.” Teyla shifted over to make room for him at the stove.
He slowly nodded as he started to break an egg into the frying pan. “Would you like some?” he asked and pointed at the pan as he grabbed the ham and cheese.
Teyla made a face and shook her head as she stirred in her tea.
“Your loss,” John shrugged. He was already dreading the memorial. It was going to be hard for all of them, and it was times like these where he secretly wished that he wasn’t, hadn’t been, a high ranking officer so that he could skip the whole thing. Since Woolsey and Carter hadn’t made it out/through the gate/something like that, he had to go.
“While you were… out, the last couple of days,” Teyla started, “the family of Amelia Banks made the decision to take her off life support.”
“Oh hell…”
“I worry for Ronon. Even though he and Amelia separated before we returned to the Pegasus Galaxy, he did love her.”
“Yeah…” John sighed, wondering when the endless body count of the Genii siege of Atlantis would end. Probably soon, he realized, as the only one still in the infirmary was Captain Vega, and she wasn’t conscious; with her, it was a question IF she’d ever wake up again.
“John?”
“Yes?”
“Did you ever contact your brother or your ex-wife, informing them about your return?”
No, he didn’t. He shrugged and lowered the fire on the stove as he grabbed a few slices of bread. “They wouldn’t care.”
“John…” Teyla rolled her eyes.
“No, Teyla, they wouldn’t.” John cursed himself for raising his voice. “Nancy… well she might, but Dave?” He shook his head. “He’d be telling everyone the same thing he’s been saying my entire life: that I had it coming.”
She looked at him. “I thought you had resolved your problems with him after your father’s death.”
“No… we reached a mutual understanding about dad’s money and my intentions for being at the funeral, that’s it. I’m still the black sheep of the family.” He didn’t really care about it either. Sure, he could always call Dave, say ‘hi’ and then what? He didn’t want to deal with his biological family. He had a new family now, but he had his own that cared about him, even if he didn’t know why they did.
Just before Carson was due to arrive, Teyla took Torren to one of John’s neighbors who had agreed to watch the boy while they attended the services. Heading down the in elevator to go to the car, the mood between John and Teyla was quite somber and dark.
During the memorial service, John was glad to see that there was one piece of good news as well; Stackhouse received a promotion for his heroics and leaped from being a Sergeant to being a Master Sergeant. John agreed wholeheartedly.
John kept to himself, occasionally comforting Teyla, and tried not to listen to the words General Landry spoke. When they were all in the mess hall for coffee after the memorial service, John decided to sit in a corner quietly and drink his coffee, biding his time, waiting for Teyla and Carson to return back home. Remembering what happened on Atlantis was still hard for him, and he had wanted to throw up when Landry had named every single casualty during the memorial.
John went as far as thanking Stackhouse for saving his ass and congratulating him on his promotion during the time they were in the mess hall, but that was it. He only wanted to get out of there and move on the best he could. If he was able to, he’d probably walk away from everyone, everything that would remind him of Atlantis and Elsa, but he couldn’t. In a way, he was responsible for Teyla as it was their agreement all those years ago when they planned for a scenario such as this if they had to evacuate to Earth and she was separated from her people.
Having had enough, he went looking for her, despite the fact that Carson was their ride home. He’d just pay for a taxi. John found her talking to someone from SG-10 in the gateroom. “Hey, want to go?” he asked, his tone clear that he needed to get far away from there.
“Alright, John,” Teyla agreed. “I will find Carson.”
“Nah, let him stay and chat. I’ll pay for a taxi,” John said, carefully avoiding looking at the stargate behind him.
“Well, did you call for one already? I’m sure Carson wouldn’t mind…”
He looked at her steadily. Of course he would have called because whether she wanted to leave or not, he was. “I need to get out of here, Teyla.”
“I was just wondering,” Teyla said. “Let’s go then.”
John was relieved when they finally got home, he could breathe again, but he felt extremely tired. He let himself fall onto the couch and didn’t plan on getting up for the next few hours as he kicked off his shoes. He was still feeling as if he could snap or freak out at any moment but at least he was in a safe environment now, no guns could accidentally go off, and no Stargate for any threat to come through.
“I’m going to pick up Torren, and then I’ll be taking him for food shopping, is there anything you wish to have for dinner tonight?” Teyla inquired, as she looked at the ‘sack of potatoes’ sitting on the couch.
“I’m not really hungry, Teyla,” he said softly.
“Then we’ll be having chicken,” Teyla said. “I’ll make sure to get slices of Turkey for you so you can make a sandwich if you’d like.”
“Thanks.”
A month later, John had found a job in a store as one of the maintenance men. He wasn’t good at it, but they agreed to let him work for them for minimum wage and teach him some things here and there, but it wasn’t what John wanted. He didn’t mind the minimum wages, he had enough money, he hated it that whenever something fell, his entire body tensed up and scared the shit out of him. He also hated interacting with the customers, which he tried not to, but they kept asking him things that he couldn’t possibly know and had “You can go and ask a teller, ma’am,” in his head as a default response.
Sure, he could probably get a better job, since he had a college degree, but he didn’t see the point. He was actually surprised that the department store hadn’t fired him on his second day after he nearly crushed the larynx of one of his co-workers when he poked John in the back with a broomstick. He suspected that General Landry had given them a heads up and paid the man some ‘danger’ money or something.
Today, had been a bad day. There were crying children all over the department store when he was on his ladder trying to replace a broken light bulb, he could feel the ladder wobble whenever the other children, hyped up on sugar, decided to run around it, annoying the hell out of him. He loved children, he loved Torren, who was a model child compared to little rats he was currently dealing with. He managed to replace the light bulb, but he decided to quit there and then. At least he had tried.
On his way back home, he bought Torren a new toy he had seen on TV, and bought some expensive chocolate to bribe Teyla with in case she got angry with him for quitting his job. He’d try to find something else, he’d promise that, and he just hoped it required a minimum of spending time with other people.
“Why won’t you offer yourself up as a guest lecturer for colleges?” Daniel Jackson suggested that night at dinner. “I mean, I do it all the time.”
“That’s because you have PhD’s in just about everything,” John pointed out. “I have a BA from Stanford, with a major in economics.”
“Then do something with your economics stuff,” Daniel shrugged.
“Too boring,” John chuckled as he took a bite out of his stupid chicken. Teyla had learned many ways to prepare chicken, and her home-made Italian chicken was better than the one she used to order from the Italian restaurant. He still hated chicken, though, just as Teyla couldn’t stomach steaks. He was convinced that it couldn’t be healthy to eat chicken at least three times a week.
She rolled her eyes as she smiled at Daniel before getting up to clear the table. “Then what would you like to do? You enjoy cooking at times, how about the small diner down the street? I heard they were looking for some help,” Teyla suggested.
He winced at the thought of working at the diner but smiled anyway. “Sure Teyla, I’ll go and have a look tomorrow,” he replied, not telling her that what he wanted, was something he wasn’t allowed to, or couldn’t do anymore.
“I would have thought that the SGC would have helped you find something,” Daniel commented, shaking his head.
“They probably don’t know what to do with me,” John shrugged. “And I haven’t asked. I try to avoid the SGC as much as I can, I don’t want to torture myself.” Well, he did, but not full-blown Stargate torture; being there reminded him of Atlantis, and that was wrong. However, unknown to Teyla, he had stopped by the shooting range one day, and had started to practice to shoot again. Not that he didn’t know how to shoot a gun, but he needed to learn to work it with his bad eye, and he was making a lot of progress with it. Maybe, in the future, he could go and work for a security firm or something.
The diner had been a bust, they made him clean up after the patrons first, and clean the toilets and all the shitty work they made you do when you had no experience whatsoever.
He tried to work at a video rental store next, surprised to see that there still was such a thing, but the kid he worked with liked war movies and had the most recent release of some movie on repeat all day on a big screen and he nearly punched the kid for finding it ‘awesome’.
In the end, he just gave up trying to look for a suitable job and spent most of his days outside, walking around the park in town and feeding pigeons, only to make Teyla think that he was actually keeping a job this time around as an ice cream vendor.
One day when John came to the park, he found General Landry feeding his pigeons. “The handy thing of a tracker is that we can see where you are at all times, Colonel,” General Landry said smiling.
“Last I knew, I wasn’t a Colonel anymore, General.”
“You’ll always be a Colonel. You’re just not an active one. That’s something completely different.”
John shrugged and sat down on the bench next to the General.
“Fancy ice cream cart you have.” Landry pointed at the loaf of bread John was holding in his hands.
“Yeah, it could use a little paint…”
“John, I’ve been following your every move… well, almost every move, in the past few weeks. How’s the shooting going?” He smiled and threw some more seed on the ground.
He winced. “That was something I didn’t want anyone to know about…”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“Getting there,” John eventually said, knowing that he was fighting a losing battle with the man. “My percentage is at about 85% or so.”
Landry nodded. “That’s good to hear. There – may be a job that you can do for the SGC and IOA…”
