Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Chapter 1

The bar was packed with SGC personnel all lined up to wish Colonel Mitchell well before he headed to Kansas for his wedding to a woman whose name John Sheppard didn’t know. When it came down to it, he didn’t know Mitchell all that well either. In fact, John wasn’t entirely certain what he was doing there.

Atlantis had been parked on Earth for all of five days. For the latter three John, along with the rest of the Atlantis command staff, had been buried in meetings at the SGC, making a case for her return to Pegasus. General O’Neill had already made the decision that they needed Atlantis on Earth, in his words, ‘like a hole in the head’ but he was letting the IOA meetings go ahead to give them the illusion that they’d had some say in the matter. John understood the political need even if he thought the whole thing was a giant waste of time like Rodney had taken to saying pointedly at the beginning of every meeting.

After, shaking Mitchell’s hand, wishing him luck and spending the requisite amount of time sitting with a group of Air Force officers to appear sociable, John chose a seat at the bar to watch the game on the muted TV. He sat back and nursed his beer. He tended to believe his team had only been invited because they were there and Mitchell, SG1 leader and all-round American hero, was the type who believed that it was the neighbourly thing to invite complete strangers to dinner and make them feel welcome.

And it wasn’t as though Mitchell and John were complete strangers since John had shown Mitchell around Atlantis during SG1’s infamous visit. Mostly, John had come away with the impression that Mitchell was an OK guy. The next time they’d ran into each other was during the period when the Atlantis expedition had been kicked back to Earth after rescuing some Ancients who had reclaimed the city. Again, between SG1’s schedule and Sheppard’s own, they hadn’t met up much beyond the occasional ‘hey’ exchanged in the locker room. But there’d been one night a few weeks in when they’d both been Earth-side and Mitchell had invited him out with a couple of the other team leaders. They’d spent most of the night comparing the aircraft they’d flown focusing on life before any of them knew about aliens. The final time had been fleeting. John had been on his way through the SGC on his way to his father’s funeral and Mitchell had stepped into the same elevator and offered his condolences. John had no idea what he’d said back.

Each meeting had solidified John’s impression of Mitchell as a good guy; a good officer; someone he wouldn’t mind taking orders since Mitchell’s promotion to full bird separated them by a rank. When he thought of Mitchell, he thought rock-solid, dependable. Not boring because John was certain that the sum of SG1 leader plus F302 pilot didn’t equal boring, but Mitchell was normal in a way that was oddly reassuring when every other person at the SGC was shaded a touch crazy, and John included himself in that. Mitchell was grounded like Teyla.

John missed Teyla. She had participated in the first meeting and then requested to go back to Atlantis to be with Torren and Kanaan. Ronon was at the SGC but had been sparring with Teal’c more than taking part in meetings. John looked for Ronon and Teal’c in the bar and spotted them exactly where he’d left them; at a table drinking outrageously pink cocktails with Vala. A smile quirked John’s lips upward for a moment. Only Ronon and Teal’c could get away with drinking pink cocktails and looking macho doing it. He lifted his beer to his lips and took another small sip, searching for his remaining team-mate.

Rodney was sequestered in a corner with a group of scientists including Samantha Carter. They all seemed to be arguing over some random scientific thing in between drinking a copious amount of alcohol. John was surprised nobody had taken an eye out with the number of hands that were flying.

John didn’t feel the urge to join either of them. Someone had to be the sensible one and get Ronon and Rodney home by curfew, he reasoned. He was not completely ignored. At some point the bartender took pity on him and put out some snacks; people trundled over to buy more beer and asked the score or updated him on the latest gossip. In the meantime, he enjoyed watching Rodney browbeat his fellow scientists and Ronon drink down more pink cocktails than John thought was a good idea for the interior of the car he’d borrowed. He was also aware that he’d started watching Mitchell.

Mitchell was laughing just a touch too loud, trying to look happy just a touch too much, drinking a little bit more than he should, and radiating tension from every pore. John would have been concerned if it had been any of his business.

Eventually, Sam slid onto the stool next to him. She looked strange in civvies; jeans and a t-shirt that seemed chosen for comfort rather than for fashion. ‘John.’

‘Sam.’ John raised his beer – it was almost empty but not quite.

‘I need to ask a favour.’ Sam said, getting straight to the point.

‘Sure.’ John replied agreeably.

‘I need you to take Cam home.’

John lowered the bottle back to the bar. That probably hadn’t meant what it sounded like, John thought, amused at where his mind had gone. ‘Excuse me?’

Sam waved a hand toward Daniel Jackson, sprawled in a chair opposite Mitchell. ‘He was supposed to be designated driver.’

‘Ah.’ John saw the problem. There was a line of shot glasses in front of Jackson and John vaguely remembered someone telling him about a drinking game.

‘I’ve ordered some transports from the base.’ Sam explained. ‘So we can get everyone else back there but…’ she motioned with her head at Mitchell. ‘He needs to go home; he has a flight in the morning.’

‘Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to take him and for me to wrangle this crowd?’ John pointed out. He figured Mitchell would appreciate Sam’s company more than his. As far as he could work out members of SG1 were members for life regardless of other assignments.

Sam looked at him impatiently. ‘I go home with Cam and there’ll be gossip.’ She said. ‘You go home with him and it’s a buddy doing another buddy a favour.’

She was right. ‘Fine.’ John agreed, draining his beer. ‘But you make sure my team…’

‘Gets home safely.’ Sam finished with a grin. ‘Yes, Dad.’

‘Mom.’ John shot back at her.

Sam made an expansive gesture that took in the whole room. ‘Then, don’t we have beautiful children?’ She smirked.

‘OK, I’m officially creeped out.’ John informed her, but he was smiling. He slid off the bar stool and headed for Mitchell. He clamped a hand on Mitchell’s shoulder, grinned at the rest of the group and jerked a thumb back at Sam. ‘I’ve been given orders to get you home, Colonel.’

There was a collective groan from the table.

‘Seriously?’ Mitchell squinted at Sam who waved back at him. ‘It’s early.’ And when John checked the time, it was earlier than he’d thought. ‘I’m sure you could ignore those orders, Sheppard.’ But he was already putting his beer down.

‘Yeah, I don’t think either one of us wants her mad at us.’ John drawled, eliciting a laugh from everyone. ‘Come on.’ He snagged Mitchell’s bomber jacket with one hand, and steered Mitchell towards the exit with the other.

A blast of cold rain hit them as soon as they stepped outside of the bar. John dragged in a lungful of air, pleased with the freshness after the stale smell of beer and sweat. Mitchell stumbled as he shrugged into his jacket and John quickly pointed him in the direction of the car. He bundled Mitchell into the passenger seat and gunned the engine.

He glanced over at Mitchell who stared at the empty road ahead of them with something of a grimace. ‘Uh, you want to give me directions or an address, Colonel?’

‘Cam.’ Mitchell replied.

John looked at him quizzically.

‘You’re hauling my drunken ass home, Sheppard.’ Mitchell pointed out. ‘I think we could lose the ranks.’

‘Sure.’ John agreed, pleased to drop the formality. He had never been good at the shift when a rank changed and someone he considered a peer moved up leaving him behind. When Sam had been in charge of Atlantis he’d considered himself lucky that she hadn’t cared for the formalities.

‘Besides, it’s not like you’re not going to catch me up again soon anyway.’ Mitchell commented dryly.

‘I am?’

‘You saved Earth.’ Mitchell pointed out. ‘Promotions come with the territory.’

John shrugged. It had been a surprise to make Lieutenant Colonel; he really didn’t expect to make Colonel especially as he was still below zone. ‘Address?’

‘Do you…would you…’ Mitchell squirmed in the passenger seat and crossed his arms over his chest belligerently. ‘Can you just drive for a while?’

John took a good look at him. Serious misery was written all over Mitchell’s face; a pained glazed look in his shadowed eyes. Something wasn’t right. John hesitated, wondering whether he should call Sam but he finally put the car in gear, pulled into the traffic and began driving.

After a while his destination started to become obvious and John stopped for gas, picking up water and a chocolate bar when he paid for it. Mitchell was asleep in the passenger seat, dozing off the worst of the alcohol buzz.

Eventually, John brought the car to a halt. John shoved Mitchell’s shoulder to wake him up and got out of the car. He climbed up on the hood and stared up at the night sky, enjoying the heavy smell of wet grass and aviation fuel.

Mitchell followed him, clambering on the hood beside him. He accepted the bottle of water John offered him, unscrewed the cap and downed half the bottle, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘The airport?’

John nodded. They were in a field just outside the municipal airport to be exact. For a long while they watched, both enthralled. It was like a bubble enclosed them; the dark, the stars and wispy clouds above. The planes took flight in seemingly random intervals; the comforting roar of engines filling the darkness when they did.

They’d been sat out an hour; cold seeping into their jeans, past the leather jackets and through the thin cotton t-shirts, when Mitchell breathed in deeply and nodded. His shoulders had dropped and the lines in his face had relaxed. ‘I needed this.’

John dug into the bag and brought out the chocolate. Mitchell accepted a chunk, popped it in his mouth and licked his thumb. He washed it down with more water.

‘You ever been married?’ Mitchell asked with studied indifference.

John tensed. He didn’t want to be the guy who Mitchell confided in. He wasn’t comfortable being the guy anyone confided in. ‘Look, uh, I’m seriously not good at this…’ he gestured obliquely with his water bottle, ‘stuff.’

Mitchell looked at him.

John sighed heavily and capitulated. ‘Once.’

‘Do you mind if I ask…’ Mitchell began; polite now John had given in.

‘She wanted a husband and I failed at being one.’ John answered honestly. He placed the water by his feet.

Mitchell nodded solemnly. ‘Sorry.’

John lifted a shoulder and looked out toward the airport and the chain link fencing separating them from the planes. ‘It was a long time ago.’ Nancy had always been honest and he’d thought that he could be what she needed. He’d been wrong. ‘Mostly, I couldn’t clip my wings.’

There was a long silence.

Mitchell drank down the rest of the bottle of water and dropped it by his feet, following John’s example. They were both resting against the windshield, legs stretched out along the hood. It was damn uncomfortable but neither of them moved.

‘Amy’s wonderful.’ Mitchell began, staring at the ceiling of stars above them. ‘We met in high school.’

‘Sweethearts?’ John asked because Mitchell seemed the type to get the American dream.

‘God, no.’ Mitchell laughed out loud. ‘I couldn’t get the courage up to ask her out back then.’ He shifted position on the car. ‘I was kinda goofy.’

John hid his surprise; he’d imagined star quarterback and Homecoming King, the complete opposite of John’s experience which could only be described as geeky; chess club, math tournaments, horses and planes. He’d been ahead of his peers and if it hadn’t been for the track team, he might never have had any kind of cool status. Even so, it had been a shock his senior year when girls had started paying him attention.

Mitchell sighed. ‘Anyway, we reconnected at my high school reunion. It got crashed by an Alliance thug so she knows some of what we do.’

John tracked the constellations absently. The sky seemed empty with only one moon.

‘Then, uh, after the Ori thing, I spent over a month convalescing at my parents’ place.’

John vaguely remembered the reports. Mitchell had beaten up by some kind of Terminator Replicator monster. John also remembered that Rodney had talked a lot about why the Replicators would want to create a human hybrid and what that might mean for their own Pegasus Replicator versions since they hadn’t defeated them at the time.

‘Amy was visiting and we fell back into dating.’

‘That can happen.’ John agreed. He and Nancy had been like that; sliding from friends into dating into marriage. He wondered absently if his wedding photos showed him looking as stunned as he’d felt.

‘And I…’ Mitchell sketched a shape in the air, ‘let it happen.’ He paused. ‘Just seemed time you know? Sam has what she has with O’Neill, I thought Daniel and Vala would get their acts together with her ex being out of the picture, and Teal’c’s as good as married to his Jaffa girlfriend.’

John knew how lonely it could be surrounded by couples. He’d spent weeks avoiding conversations with Rodney on his future with Keller, Ronon on whatever he’d got going with Amelia, and Teyla on Kanaan. He could imagine meeting someone, having that hollowed out feeling of alone go away. If he was honest, that want for something to fill the void every so often was mostly the reason he thought fondly of Larrin, a woman who had done nothing but beat him up and shoot him down every time they’d met.

‘She proposed.’ Mitchell announced brusquely. ‘And what the hell am I supposed to say?’ He lurched up into a sitting position.

John was half a heartbeat behind him but he stopped unsure what to do. He wished Teyla was there. He wished Sam was there. Hell, he wished anyone was there but him.

Mitchell was huddled over, knees drawn up, head bent. ‘Crap.’

John lifted his hand to place it on Mitchell’s shoulder, stopped, started again, and finally committed to it. He squeezed gently. ‘Cold feet, huh?’

‘More like cold everything.’ Mitchell huffed out. He wasn’t looking at John but he leaned into the touch. ‘Sorry.’

John just squeezed his shoulder again.

‘What the hell’s the matter with me?’ Mitchell muttered. ‘I said yes.’

‘Did you want to say yes?’ John asked bluntly.

‘Amy’s wonderful.’ Mitchell repeated as though that was an answer.

John patted Mitchell’s shoulder and dropped his hand because he wasn’t going to press him. They were barely colleagues never mind friends; Mitchell had seniority on him. If he wanted to continue talking, it was up to him. John wasn’t all that bothered.

Well, OK, maybe John was somewhat bothered. He liked the guy and it was obvious Mitchell had been carrying the doubts about his impending marriage around for a while; heading for the ground and needing to pull up before he crashed and burned.

‘I didn’t want to hurt her by saying no.’ Mitchell confessed.

Mitchell didn’t say why he would hurt her beyond the obvious rejection but John could work that out for himself: Amy didn’t know Mitchell hadn’t been serious about her, had been using her to alleviate the loneliness he’d felt. She’d proposed thinking they were on the same page; headed for the white picket fence and the two point five children; the happy ever after. John wondered if Mitchell had even realised what he’d been doing before Amy’s proposal of marriage. Probably not; Mitchell was too nice a guy to have used someone he liked deliberately.

‘I thought I could make it work.’ Mitchell murmured as if he’d read John’s mind. ‘I’m not getting any younger, we’d been dating for a year, and Amy is…’

‘Wonderful?’ John suggested dryly.

‘But, the closer it gets…’ Mitchell grimaced and looked up at the sky, ‘I guess I don’t want to clip my wings either.’

And yeah; there it was. It might be a metaphor but flying was freedom, nothing but sky and wind and defying gravity.

Mitchell blew out a long breath; all the tension flooding out of him as though it had been a long time bottled up. ‘Thing is, I already know what I have to do.’

John bumped Mitchell’s knee with his own. It was better they broke up before the wedding than afterward. He hunted around and handed Mitchell another bottle of water. ‘Sorry it isn’t beer.’

Mitchell snorted. He nudged John’s shoulder with his own. ‘Sorry to dump on you, Sheppard.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t…I haven’t been able to talk to…anyway, sorry.’

‘Not a problem.’ John answered untruthfully.

Mitchell laughed. ‘Sure.’ Enough understanding and gratitude laced his tone that John knew Mitchell knew exactly how uncomfortable John had found the last twenty minutes, and that Mitchell was thankful all the same that John had stuck it out.

‘So maybe I’m thinking Sam owes me something big and shiny for asking me to give you a ride.’ John admitted.

‘She’s been trying to get me to talk for weeks.’ Mitchell murmured contemplatively. His eyes narrowed on John.

‘Don’t look at me.’ John held both his hands up at Mitchell’s accusing look. If Sam had set their discussion up he’d had no part in it. ‘I’m an innocent bystander here.’

That got another snort of laughter. ‘I doubt you’re an innocent anything, Sheppard.’

They were sitting close enough that John could see the crinkling lines at the edges of Mitchell’s eyes, the warm easy affection that heated Mitchell’s blue gaze. A whine of turbines above them had both their heads turning skyward.

Mitchell clapped a hand over John’s shoulder. ‘How about we take a couple of 302s for a ride around the planet when I get back?’

‘I could go for that.’ John said.

‘Well, I know I’m going to need a ride after…’ Mitchell’s face scrunched up as the reality of what he was going to do hit. ‘This is not going to be a fun week.’

John pressed his lips together and made the offer he knew Mitchell would make in his place. ‘You need a wingman?’ Besides, the thought of going with Mitchell into the wilds of Kansas to support him while he broke a woman’s heart was marginally more attractive than spending time in more interminable IOA meetings.

‘That would be above and beyond. No, I think it needs to be a solo.’ Mitchell replied. ”sides, once my folks get over the disappointment, they’ll back me.’

John felt a fierce tug of jealousy at Mitchell’s certainty; the simple knowledge that family would be there as a soft place to land and not like hard and unforgiving concrete. He cast one last look at the sky. ‘We should go.’

They slid off the hood, picked up their trash and climbed in the car.

Mitchell rattled the address off as soon as John was belted in. He programmed the GPS and set off. Ten minutes in, Mitchell’s head was slumped on the glass of the passenger window; he was fast asleep and drooling. John focused on the road.

They were entering a quiet suburb when his cell beeped. John fumbled, unused to carrying one, and answered. ‘Sheppard.’

‘Where are you?’ Sam asked with enough impatience that it made him think she had been waiting for him to call her.

‘He wanted to go for a drive.’ John reported crisply.

Sam sighed audibly. ‘Did he talk to you?’

‘I’m sure he’ll tell you tomorrow.’ John retorted, feeling too manipulated and resenting the position she’d put him in.

‘There’s not going to be a wedding, is there?’ Sam asked gently.

And John could hear the ache in her voice for what Mitchell was going through.

‘Probably not.’ John conceded, because when all was said and done he understood the friendship that had motivated her actions. He hoped Rodney, or more likely Teyla, would do the same for him if he was ever in Mitchell’s shoes.

‘Thanks, John.’ Sam said.

‘You owe me something big and shiny.’ John shot back.

‘I’ll think of something.’ Sam promised and disconnected before he could start making requests like no more IOA meetings ever, and maybe his very own F302 thrown in for good measure.

He pulled up in front of Mitchell’s house and woke Mitchell apologetically. ‘You need any help from here?’

Mitchell yawned, stretched and shook his head. ‘You can crash if you want?’

John declined politely. He stayed until Mitchell was safely behind the front door before he pointed the car in the direction of Cheyenne Mountain.

It was late when John made it into the base. He checked on Rodney and found him clothed and sprawled over a bed snoring away happily; checked on Ronon who was out cold in another room.

John headed to his own quarters. He peeled off his clothes and climbed into bed, belatedly remembering to set the alarm. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow, and he dreamed of flying in a F302 and breaking Nancy’s heart in a field of corn.

Chapter 2

Three days had passed since Cam had told Amy that he couldn’t marry her.

Somewhere around oh-five-hundred, Cam gave up on sleeping. He lay awake on the sofa in his parents’ den and stared up at the ceiling, tracing familiar cracks and paint smears as he listened with equal familiarity to Teal’c’s quiet snores and Daniel’s breathing.

His team had turned up within twenty-four hours of him calling to tell them the news. His parents, upset and confused by Cam’s decision, had welcomed them. Cam was appreciative; he was. He was also…he didn’t know what; embarrassed because he’d screwed up? Wanting to lick his wounds in private? He wasn’t sure. It was the same hesitancy that had kept him from confiding his escalating panic about the wedding to them.

He was closer to SG1 than to any other team he’d ever served on. As much as he loved her, he knew it was only when Sam had gone to Atlantis that SG1 felt like it became his. Daniel, Teal’c and Vala had been to his parents’ house for Thanksgiving. He’d seen them all naked and vulnerable; they’d seen him the same way. In the field, they’d worked out a rhythm. Cam knew the minute differences in expression that Teal’c employed; he could tell when Daniel’s softly worded curse (usually in another language) meant they were in trouble; he knew Vala’s actual innocent look and the one that she employed when she was as guilty as hell.

He knew his team.

He loved his team.

He really wished they’d leave so he could go back to pretending that he was fine again.

Because that was what he’d been doing with them for months; pretending he was fine, that he was happy. He didn’t know why. A mixture of not wanting to admit the truth to himself never mind them, and maybe some deeply ingrained bravado that as leader he had to put on a brave front and be confident even when he wasn’t (when he wanted Sam back in the field with them so he could slide a look her way and know she would be there to help him).

Cam tucked his hands behind his head and stared at a patch of pale green an inch from the edge of the wall. He remembered slipping with the paintbrush and his father laughing and promising they’d paint over it. They never had.

Some mistakes couldn’t be covered over so easily.

Guilt flooded him and Cam closed his eyes at the sting of tears; the ache in his chest as he clamped down on the rising emotion that wanted to break free. Amy had been calm when he’d told her; asked if it wasn’t a case of last minute jitters. When he’d said no; she hadn’t cried or begged. She’d accepted his apology with grace and composure. She hadn’t let him handle any of the details of cancelling their wedding beyond informing his own relatives and friends, but she had eventually accepted the cheque he’d written to cover the costs. It was the least he owed her.

He rubbed his eyes.

Cam loved Amy but it wasn’t enough. He could list all the reasons why he should marry her until he turned blue in the face but the only reason why he shouldn’t trumped all those: he didn’t want to marry Amy.

‘I couldn’t clip my wings.’

Sheppard’s words echoed in his head. He had felt them resonate in his bones the minute Sheppard had said them, because Cam couldn’t clip his wings either – not for Amy. Not that she had asked him to but that was how he’d felt. Trapped. Grounded. Maybe if he’d been more honest with her from the start…maybe if he’d been more honest with himself.

Cam sighed silently. He wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. The room was closing in on him. He pushed the blanket away and slid off the cushions. He was already dressed in sweats and an old t-shirt in deference to sleeping with two other men in the same room. He padded out and closed the door behind him before he headed into the kitchen. He pushed his feet into the worn sneakers by the back door. He was out and into the night air without thinking about it. He stretched, ignoring the multitude of aches in his legs and back, and started running.

He ended up in a neighbour’s field, lying flat on his back and gasping for breath. He had a whole sky above him and he still felt trapped. He wanted to be in the cockpit of something fast, something he could feel when he pulled g-forces; maybe a F16. He wanted to feel the metal shudder around him. He wanted to feel the hitch in his breath when the stick responded to his smallest nudge. He wanted to feel the connection between him and his bird when he went into a spiral, into a dive, into a climb. He wanted to hide above the clouds not below them.

Cam cried. He let the tears come, sobs that felt wrenched from his gut and left him wrung out. He didn’t know if he was crying for screwing up, for the loss of what he’d had with Amy, for Amy. He felt better when it was over. He stayed until the sun started to seep gold into the purple sky.

He ran home. He showered, dressed and made coffee. He took a mug and went to sit on the fence that ran along the drive to the farm. He was close enough to the house that they’d all find him easily enough; far enough away to make it an effort for anyone to come and talk to him.

He didn’t want talk.

Although, mused Cam, he’d talked to Sheppard. Cam felt a momentary tug of shame at how he’d unloaded on the guy despite the look of ‘don’t do this to me’ when Cam had asked whether Sheppard had ever been married. Heck, they didn’t even know each other all that well, although maybe, in retrospect, that had helped Cam to talk along with a fair amount of alcohol and the soothing sound of the planes they’d watched. He smiled. He should have known another pilot would know what he’d needed.

Another pilot.

Cam shook his head. He guessed that Sheppard thought of himself as a pilot first just like he did. Cam had been sorry to miss the 302 defence of Earth from the Hive ship because of a mission on the Odyssey. He went up monthly to keep up his certification. He looked up at the sky. He could admit that he was looking forward to the promised 302 flight with Sheppard, looking forward to spending time with someone who understood what it meant to be a pilot like in the old days with Bryce…

Cam looked down at his coffee.

Damn.

Maybe that was why he’d unloaded on Sheppard. The guy reminded him of Bryce Ferguson in some ways and Cam missed Bryce. He missed his buddy. The guy who’d been with Cam every step of the way through the Academy and deployments until the Stargate programme came calling with the 302s.

Sheppard wasn’t Bryce but he was a pilot. Not many of the SG team leads were for all they were mostly Air Force. Even Teal’c who could fly the 302s, gliders and Goa’uld ships didn’t identify as a pilot. Cam didn’t think Teal’c had spent his childhood dreaming of the sky and flying across the blue endless vista, but he would bet his entire savings account that Sheppard had spent his entire childhood doing just that. Just like every other pilot Cam had trained with.

He heard footsteps headed in his direction.

Cam threw a look toward the house and found Daniel walking toward him, a green nylon windbreaker over his jeans and the usual checked shirt. Cam’s fingers tightened around the mug. He remained where he was, perched on top of the wooden fence, looking out into the empty field. Daniel was the one they sent when they wanted to persuade and negotiate. If they’d felt he needed a thwap up the side of his head, it would have been Teal’c; if it was distraction and comfort, it would have been Vala. He took a deep breath and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Daniel’s cheeks were ruddy from the walk. He settled beside Cam, hands pushed deep into the pockets of his windbreaker, and leaned back on the fence, looking in the opposite direction from Cam.

‘I get the impression we’re not helping by being here.’ Daniel commented dryly. It was direct and to the point.

Cam sighed and opted for diplomacy. ‘You’re not not helping.’

‘Hmmm.’ Daniel shifted his weight and looked at Cam with amusement. ‘As a linguist I feel I should tell you that not not helping isn’t the same as helping.’

Cam smiled at that but kept his eyes on his mug. ‘You guys have been great coming out here…’

‘But you’d like us to leave.’ Daniel finished. He wasn’t bitter or hurt; there was acceptance colouring his tone which helped Cam feel better about it.

‘Yeah.’ Cam murmured. He wiped a hand on his jeans and finally met Jackson’s compassionate eyes.

Daniel held the gaze for a moment before he turned away and changed position; resting back against the fence more fully, crossing his arms over his torso. ‘You know Sam didn’t talk to us about Pete either.’

The reference made Cam flinch. He tried for levity. ‘Well, I’m not in love with Jack O’Neill.’

Daniel snickered.

‘We don’t tell each other everything, Jackson.’ Cam pointed out, hoping he would buy that argument.

‘We don’t,’ Jackson admitted.

For a wishful moment, Cam thought he was conceding.

‘But,’ Daniel continued relentlessly, ‘there was a reason why Sam didn’t talk to us.’

Cam didn’t answer. He didn’t have an answer. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to talk to them about it, he only knew he didn’t.

Daniel sighed. ‘You’ll be OK?’

‘Yeah, I’ll be OK.’ Cam promised without having a clue how he made himself OK again.

Daniel pushed off the fence and took a step back towards the house. ‘By the way, I talked to Sam.’

Cam sent him a quizzical look.

‘Apparently they surprised Sheppard with his promotion along with orders to take leave yesterday.’ Daniel said.

‘Jackson.’ Cam said irritated. It was bad enough Sam had set the poor guy up on the bucks’ night as Cam’s confessor. But a part of him was remembering Sheppard’s offer to be his wingman; a part of him that desperately wanted to take Sheppard up on it.

Daniel waved away his ire. ‘The guy almost blew himself up with a nuclear bomb to save Earth. You ever think she hoped for him to talk to you as well as the other way round?’ He spun on his heel and headed back to the house before Cam could answer.

The goodbyes took place an hour or so later. Vala’s hug was fierce and intense; Daniel’s one of brotherly exasperation. When Teal’c hugged him, Cam had to fight the urge to burst into tears again.

He spent the rest of the day helping around the farm, doing chores that reminded him of his childhood. He cleaned out the den and the spare room for his Mom; did laundry. Anything and everything to keep his mind and hands occupied. His parents didn’t crowd him; didn’t ask questions that he didn’t want to answer. But his Mom made his favourite pie for dessert and set it down in front of him with a hopeful smile. He managed a slice, swallowing past a too tight throat. They watched television and talked of inconsequential things.

Cam went to bed early. He slid between the cool clean sheets, grateful to have a bed again after staying on the sofa, and stared up at another ceiling. He tossed and turned. It wasn’t long before he realised that he couldn’t sleep despite the lethargy in his bones. He sighed and went downstairs for some water, feeling all too much like a teenager and not the man he had become.

He was sneaking back past the door to his parents’ room when he heard a soft sob. He paused and listened. His Mom was crying and his Dad was comforting her, reassuring her in a low voice that Cam would be fine; that he knew what he was doing not marrying Amy; that whatever was going on with their son, he was their son.

Cam went back to bed, drowning in guilt; he’d made his Mom cry. He sat on the edge of the bed. He considered the farm as his home regardless that he owned a house back in Colorado. He had over two weeks of leave left but he knew he couldn’t spend it at the farm with his parents or he would go insane. He couldn’t bear the hurt he’d caused them. But he didn’t want to go back to the SGC and the inevitable gossip about why he hadn’t gotten married, the pitying looks and the expectations of his team either. He wasn’t ready.

The solution that flickered in his head was nebulous at best but he was reaching for his cell before he could think twice about it. He got the SGC switchboard and ordered them to put him through to Sheppard’s cell.

‘Sheppard.’

‘Hey, Sheppard; Cam Mitchell.’ Cam replied. ‘I hear congratulations are in order. Told you you’d catch me up soon enough.’

‘Thanks.’ Sheppard answered. ‘And to think there were people who thought I’d never make it past Captain.’

Cam laughed at that. ‘Listen, you know that 302 ride I mentioned?’

‘I may have thought about it once or twice.’ Sheppard said.

‘I was thinking of swapping it for a more low tech option; man against machine.’ Cam said. He hurried into the next part. ‘I have a couple of weeks of leave and I was thinking of a cross-country flight in a small plane.’ He paused and plunged on. ‘I, uh, I could do with a wingman.’

‘Cross-country?’ Sheppard sounded curious but nothing more.

‘San Francisco to Washington.’ Cam said. ‘Stop off at some of the cities in between. Kind of like a road trip but by air.’ He scratched his bicep. ‘What do you think?’

‘I have some leave.’ Sheppard said as though that answered the question. ‘I could probably get us a plane if you don’t mind going Virginia to Frisco?’

‘I can be flexible.’ Cam agreed immediately.

‘OK.’ Sheppard said. ‘I’ll need to make some calls to the East coast so I’ll contact you tomorrow morning with the details?’

‘OK.’ Cam parroted back faintly.

They exchanged phone numbers and, before Cam knew it, the call had ended with Sheppard’s easy ‘talk to you tomorrow’ ringing in his ears. Cam threw his cell on the bedside table and climbed back under the sheets. He fell asleep thinking about flight plans.

It was the phone that woke him the next morning, buzzing relentlessly on the wood until he had to poke his head out of the blankets and pick it up.

‘Mitchell.’

‘Hey, my brother Dave’s going to organise the plane.’ Sheppard informed him. ‘Can you meet me this afternoon in Virginia? We’ll spend the night with him and head out tomorrow?’

Cam squinted at the alarm clock. ‘You’re a morning person aren’t you?’

‘Is that a yes?’ Sheppard asked with a laugh.

‘It’s a yes.’ Cam wiped a hand over his face and tried to wake up. ‘I’ll get a flight into Richmond.’

‘Send me the details when you’ve got it organised and I’ll meet you there.’ Sheppard promised. ‘See you later.’

Cam snapped the phone shut and collapsed back with a groan. He was awake; he figured he might as well get up. He mentally organised his day as he showered and dressed, and he made calls as he waited for the first pot of coffee. He booked onto a flight out to Richmond from Kansas City.

His Mom kissed him absently on the cheek as she entered the kitchen to make breakfast. ‘You’re up early.’

His Dad was only a step behind her and patted Cam on the shoulder. Cam poured them both coffee and sat at the table as his Mom made pancakes. He waited until they were eating before he sprang his plans to escape on them. He would be leaving as soon as they were done with breakfast. His parents exchanged a worried look.

‘Are you sure this is a good idea, son?’ His Dad asked forthrightly.

‘It seems so…sudden.’ His Mom added.

Cam took hold of her hand and attempted a smile. ‘Look, I screwed up with Amy.’ He saw the conclusion his Mom jumped to as hope entered her eyes. ‘Not in calling off the wedding,’ he said quickly, ‘just allowing it to get as far as it did before I stopped it. And I know I hurt her and you guys for which I am very sorry.’

She squeezed his hand. ‘You don’t have to apologise to us.’

‘I do.’ Cam said gruffly. He took a breath and steadied himself. ‘Now I know I could stay here with you guys to…to lick my wounds and that would be great,’ he lied through his teeth, ‘but Amy and I spent a lot of time here.’

They had, and it seemed he’d found the excuse he needed to make it OK for his Mom if the sudden understanding in her face was anything to go by.

‘I think getting away from everything and getting my head straight is exactly what I need.’ Cam continued. He could almost taste the sky; flying was calling to him like a siren.

‘Well, if you’re sure…’ His Mom patted his hand and turned her attention to her breakfast.

His Dad frowned. ‘And this Sheppard is a friend of yours?’

Cam nodded.

‘I don’t think I’ve heard you mention him before.’ His Dad said pointedly.

‘We work in different parts of the same programme. He’s…rarely stateside.’ Cam replied. ‘He’s a good pilot, Dad. I’ll be safe with him.’

His Dad looked at him and Cam knew he was weighing everything; what Cam had said and done for the past four days against what his Dad thought he needed. He nodded slowly. ‘I’ll ride with you to the airport.’

‘Thanks.’ Cam said, gratefully.

He packed and said goodbye to his Mom. She hugged him goodbye, kissed his cheek and told him to call. She stood in the yard and watched them until they were out of sight.

Cam drove to the airport. The car had been altered for his Dad’s disability; it was completely automatic, levers and brakes on the steering wheel. But Cam had driven it before and it was easier than a F302. He let the music stay on a country station his Dad preferred and concentrated on the road in between thinking about Sheppard’s text confirming he’d meet him at Richmond and the post-script; your team know.

They were early at the airport, way too early, and his Dad insisted on seeing him inside. They grabbed a coffee while they waited for the check-in desk to open. Cam predicted his Dad would say something and wasn’t surprised when he settled back in the uncomfortable wooden chair and regarded Cam with concern.

‘So a cross-country trip by plane.’ His Dad tapped his cup thoughtfully. ‘What gave you the idea?’

Cam shrugged. ‘I was thinking road trip and then I thought why not in the air.’

‘I envy you.’ His Dad admitted with a wry smile that fell away almost immediately. ‘But I’m concerned that…’

‘I’m running away from my problems?’ Cam finished for him. He sighed. ‘Maybe I am. Is that so bad?’

‘Is it?’ His Dad pressed. ‘Because this isn’t like you.’

Cam stiffened. ‘I know I’ve disappointed you and Mom, and I’m sorry about that.’

His Dad sighed heavily. ‘We’re disappointed for you, Cameron, not in you. There’s a world of difference.’ He held up a hand as Cam started to argue. ‘We’re disappointed that Amy wasn’t the one for you; that you don’t get to experience the type of marriage and love your Mom and I have; that you won’t have a family of your own to love and bring up in the near future when we know what a great Dad you’d make.’

Cam couldn’t say anything; his throat was too tight.

‘But we’re proud of you for making the decision to cancel the wedding.’ His Dad insisted. ‘We know it wasn’t an easy thing to do.’

‘I should have done it sooner. I screwed up.’ Cam said tiredly.

‘And it probably won’t be the last time you do.’ His Dad looked at him kindly. He fidgeted with his cup for a long moment. ‘I screwed up too.’ He confessed. ‘I knew you weren’t happy when we had the engagement party but I told myself I shouldn’t say anything.’

Cam was startled. He’d thought he’d fooled everyone.

‘Which is why I’m saying something now.’ His Dad continued. ‘You’re not happy, son, and I can’t help think that Amy’s only part of it.’

‘Maybe.’ Cam allowed, shaking off his initial shock to formulate something of an answer. ‘I don’t know but maybe this trip will help.’ He raised his own mug. ‘I miss flying.’

His Dad nodded understandingly. ‘Me too.’ He sat back. ‘So, this Sheppard is a pilot?’

Cam nodded. ‘He’s good. Better than me, I think.’

‘And you trust him?’

‘I trust him.’ Cam said with absolute certainty.

‘Then we’ll say no more about it.’ His Dad moved the topic on but it wasn’t too much longer before Cam’s flight was up on the boards and they were hugging goodbye.

Cam made his way through security. He checked his duffle bag, and took the bare minimum with him onto the cramped plane. He hated travelling on commercial flights, felt the instinctive need of every pilot to be the one in control but he adjusted the aircon, squirmed into the hard seat until he could convince himself he was comfortable and let the businessman in the seat beside him steal the middle armrest.

The take-off was smooth and he stared out of the window at the white clouds below. He’d done the right thing but his Dad was right; Cam wasn’t happy and it wasn’t just because he screwed up with Amy. His mind drifted over his reluctance to talk to his team again before he shied away from thinking about it. He was going to had plenty of time to mull it over on his two week jaunt across America.

For a moment he worried whether it was such a good idea asking Sheppard; whether they were going to hate it and each other within hours. They could always call a halt and go their separate ways, Cam decided, but he didn’t think it would happen.

He was suddenly weary; tired from the emotional impact of the days behind him and the repressed anxiety that he’d suffered in the months before that. He slid down so he could rest his head comfortably against the cushion and closed his eyes.

Chapter 3

At breakfast, John wondered what the hell he was doing and not for the first time. The mess was fairly empty. Ronon was occupied with food and that left John with far too much silence in which to contemplate his sudden decision to take a trip with Mitchell. He’d been poised to say no but somehow he’d found himself accepting. OK, so maybe the idea of flying cross-country in a small plane was cool and hit all his buttons, John thought defensively, and ignored the embarrassed thought that he was looking forward to it.

He had talked himself in and out of the trip with Mitchell three times before he’d picked up the phone to call his brother. They’d been doing better in the year since their father had died. Mostly, John had spent a lot of time telling himself that if Rodney could heal a rift with a sibling then so could he. But his relationship with Dave was a long way off being OK even if the sporadic emails had mostly turned from stilted to civil to something that was bordering on more than civil.

His brother had been unsurprisingly surprised to hear from him and had listened to John’s request to help him rent a plane without speaking. It had only been when John had fallen silent that he considered that maybe he should have planned to spend some time actually with Dave on his leave rather than heading out on a trip with Mitchell. Before he could apologise, Dave had simply promised to take care of it, guilted John into spending the night at the old house, and hung up.

Teal’c slid into the chair next to Ronon and they did a complicated handshake thing that John was tempted to laugh at except he liked his face the way it was. He’d heard on the grapevine that the rest of SG1 had returned from Kansas. John was somewhat surprised that Mitchell hadn’t invited one of them to accompany him on the trip across the States but he reasoned that it was likely none of them had a flying license outside of the SGC.

‘Can you believe that they’re not serving waffles today?’ Rodney spluttered as he sat down at the table.

John wisely ignored the question and took a sip of his coffee. ‘Good morning to you too, Rodney.’

‘Yes, yes, morning and all that.’ Rodney waved his cutlery around as he began to eat a plate piled high with bacon, eggs and hash. ‘Some of us have already been working for hours.’

‘On what?’ John asked idly, pushing his own plate aside and slouching back in his chair.

‘Repairs.’ Rodney grinned happily. ‘I’ve been remote working with Radek on some of the more critical systems and…’

‘You’re beaming back in another hour, Rodney.’ John pointed out, amused and not at all surprised. ‘You couldn’t wait?’

‘You heard O’Neill; the sooner the better.’ Rodney retorted around a mouthful of food.

‘You are departing the SGC today?’ Teal’c interjected.

‘Yeah.’ Ronon replied, mopping up tomato juice with a slice of bread.

‘We got the go ahead last night. They just wanted us to hang around here because…’ John frowned, ‘actually, I’m not sure why they wanted us to hang around.’

‘I heard about your promotion, Colonel Sheppard.’ Teal’c inclined his head. ‘Congratulations.’

‘Thank you.’ John felt a small swell of pride.

‘You know the best thing about your promotion?’ Rodney remarked. ‘I can still call you Colonel.’

‘That is the best thing about my promotion.’ John said dryly. He exchanged an amused look with Ronon.

The arrival of Daniel and Vala prevented Rodney from making a comeback. For a brief moment, there was chaos as both attempted to sit in the same seat next to Teal’c. Daniel ended up in the seat next to Rodney.

‘Rod.’

‘Danny.’

The two of them bared their teeth at each other.

‘Play nicely, boys.’ Vala suggested archly, grinning at them. She nudged Teal’c. ‘We’re going to Atlantis.’

‘You are?’ John and Rodney asked at the same time.

John was sure someone would have told him.

Daniel sent him an apologetic look and adjusted his glasses. ‘I, uh, might have just gotten Sam to sign off on it.’

John mentally made a note to warn Lorne.

Sam snagged a spare chair and pulled it up to the top of the table beside John. ‘Morning.’ She set down a sensible tray of cereal, fruit and a mug of tea.

‘Morning.’ John smiled at her warmly. It had been good to have her in command of the SGC no matter how temporary it was. He gestured back at Daniel. ‘I hear Atlantis is getting some visitors.’

Sam shot Daniel an annoyed look before she smiled at John. ‘If that’s OK with you? Daniel would like the opportunity to follow-up on some of the research he started when he visited you guys.’

Rodney snorted.

John’s smile widened. ‘OK, by me. I’m on leave.’

‘Yes, you are.’ Sam agreed wryly. There was a note of acknowledgement in her eyes that he wouldn’t be around to deal with any fallout if Rodney and Daniel got kidnapped and the Stargate exploded.

‘Huh,’ Rodney stared at him, ‘you’re really going on leave?’

John could understand his disbelief. Rodney probably expected John to argue against being forced to take time off but truthfully John was tired enough that he was secretly OK with it. He needed a break from the relentless pressure, the constant state of combat readiness. Parked on Earth, Atlantis was the safest it had been for a while; they had the entire SGC and the somewhat battered resources of Homeworld Security to help them if there was an attack. Lorne could take care of the city for a couple of weeks.

‘Walter said you’ve requested a beam down to Andrews?’ Sam said quietly, pulling his attention back to her. She stirred her cereal thoughtfully.

John nodded.

‘You’re going to see Dave?’ Rodney looked even more disbelieving.

John motioned with his mug. ‘He’s helping to organise the plane.’

‘Plane?’ Sam’s blue eyes sharpened with interest.

John sat forward, nodding. ‘We’re flying cross-country Virginia to San Francisco. Kind of like a road trip but in the air.’

‘We?’ Rodney jumped on the pronoun like a bloodhound on the scent of a fox. He chewed and swallowed quickly. ‘Not you and Dave? Because from what I know of your relationship, which granted isn’t very much, that would be a gigantic leap forward.’

‘No, not me and Dave.’ John was suddenly hesitant. He wasn’t sure if Mitchell had told his team but John reasoned that Sam would find out soon enough because Mitchell would have to log his change of whereabouts with the SGC. He shrugged. ‘Me and Mitchell.’

The entire table stopped eating. There were varying levels of surprise and concern on the faces looking back at him.

John lowered his mug and looked back at them evenly. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

Rodney and Sam spoke at the same moment. Sam glared at him.

‘Oh, don’t look at me like that.’ Rodney shot back at her. ‘Seriously, you can’t tell me that you think it’s a good idea for the two of them, the leader of SG1 and the military leader of Atlantis, to go off on some boys’ own adventure together? I’ve read the reports; Mitchell gets into just as much trouble as Sheppard here.’

‘Hey!’ John protested.

Ronon’s eyes gleamed with mirth. ‘You do get into trouble a lot.’

John shot him a betrayed look.

‘As does Colonel Mitchell.’ Teal’c agreed.

‘It’s like the first sign of the apocalypse or something.’ Rodney continued undaunted.

‘We’re planning to fly a plane and see some sights, Rodney,’ John said defensively, ‘not start an intergalactic war.’

‘Well, we all know plan A never works.’ Vala commented brightly.

‘And what’s with you flying a plane?’ Rodney gestured with his fork. ‘Why not take a puddle jumper?’

‘Well, apart from the fact that I don’t think we’ll get permission to borrow the jumper for two weeks, the point of the trip is to fly something that needs concentration; finesse.’ John stated, weaving his mug about as though it was a model airplane. ‘Something that you feel when there’s a tailwind and turbulence.’

Daniel looked down the table toward John. ‘It sounds like you miss flying.’

‘Miss flying?’ Rodney parroted. ‘You can’t get him out of the puddle jumpers.’

‘There’s a difference.’ John insisted firmly.

‘Well, I know I’m jealous. It’s been a long time since I flew a plane like that.’ Sam jumped in before Rodney could start. ‘It was good of you to invite Cam along.’

‘Actually,’ John said without thinking, ‘it was his idea.’

Daniel’s eyes narrowed on him before looking toward Sam; something was communicated although John had no idea what.

‘You’re really allowing this?’ Rodney asked Sam. But the look he sneaked John was one that said ‘did you see that thing they did’ and ‘what do you think’ all at the same time.

John gave a minute shake of his head.

‘Even Air Force officers are free to do whatever they want on their leave, Rodney.’ Sam remarked. She turned warm blue eyes on John. ‘Just, you know; don’t start an intergalactic war.’

‘Maybe next vacation.’ John tossed back. His phone vibrated and John opened it to check the incoming text. It was Mitchell with his flight details. John sent him an acknowledgement, warned him SG1 knew about the trip and snapped the phone shut. He set his mug down. ‘Well, I should pack.’

‘Hmmm.’ Rodney shovelled the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth and stood. He chewed enthusiastically as he waved his hand at his mouth and at John. He swallowed and picked up his datapad. ‘I’ll walk with you.’

John let him because it was Rodney and for all their bantering, they had a rock solid friendship underneath; one that had weathered losses and change, arguments and fights, blowing up part of a solar system. They were in the elevator before Rodney spoke again.

‘Are you sure this was a good idea?’ Rodney asked as soon as the doors close.

‘Jealous, McKay?’ John needled him, smirking.

Rodney rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, yes, I’m jealous that you’ll be stuck in a tiny cockpit for two weeks.’

‘You are jealous.’ John replied with relish because winding Rodney up was his daily fun.

‘I’m concerned.’ Rodney retorted. His hands were already in motion, the datapad coming close to being whacked off the elevator control panel. ‘The guy called off his wedding. Are you sure he’s mentally stable enough to fly a plane?’

John wasn’t surprised that Rodney had heard the gossip and shrugged. ‘He called off a wedding, Rodney. He hasn’t gone nuts.’

‘I don’t think that’s what SG1 think.’ Rodney said. His mouth slanted downwards, his brow furrowed. It was Rodney’s ‘this is a really bad idea’ look, the one reserved for when John was about to embark on some foolish mission that had a fair chance of getting him killed. It seemed a bit extreme for the circumstances.

‘They’re concerned about him that’s all.’ John replied seriously.

‘For apparently good reason.’ Rodney stressed, clutching his datapad close.

‘Look, Rodney, he’s not nuts, just maybe unhappy and wanting to get away for a while, clear his head; that kind of thing.’ John reassured him.

And suddenly Rodney looked at John as though he’d transformed into an interesting piece of Ancient technology.

John shuffled uncomfortably. ‘What?’

Rodney turned away from him and stared up at the elevator floor indicator. ‘You really think this trip is going to help him with that?’

‘Yeah, I do.’ John replied. ‘Plus you know; two whole weeks of flying which is very cool.’

Rodney gave an audible sniff. ‘Just try to remember that I’m not there to save you when you inevitably get into trouble.’

‘I’ll miss you too, Rodney.’ John patted his back as the elevator slid to a halt.

In the end, it didn’t take him long to pack. He wasn’t surprised when there was a knock on his door and he opened it to find Teal’c on the other side. He simply opened the door wider and let the Jaffa in.

Teal’c immediately handed him the small box he carried. ‘It is Colonel Mitchell’s service weapon.’

John decided to find it a touching gesture rather than a disturbing indicator of Teal’c’s belief in their chances of not needing a weapon for two weeks. John tried not to think about what it said about his own belief that his own weapon was one of the first things he packed. ‘Thanks. I’ll see that he gets it.’ At least, he pondered with semi-seriousness, it was proof that SG1 didn’t consider Mitchell suicidal.

Teal’c clasped his hands behind his back and regarded John impassively. ‘This is a most difficult time for Colonel Mitchell.’

‘It is.’ John agreed and tried hard not to be intimidated.

‘And yet he has chosen you to travel beside him.’ Teal’c continued.

John nodded and said what he thought Teal’c was there to hear. ‘I’ll look after him.’

Teal’c suddenly smiled. ‘Of that I have no doubt, Colonel Sheppard.’ He tilted his head. ‘It is more difficult I think to accept that he will allow you to do so and not allow us. That you have already helped him in this matter where we have failed.’

John understood. He remembered all too well the frustration when Teyla had kept her pregnancy secret, the horror of unknowingly putting her unborn child in danger coupled with a complete lack of comprehension about why she hadn’t said anything to them – to him. There was an unspoken expectation in a team that they turned to each other before going outside of it. Conversely he also appreciated that sometimes it was too difficult, too hard to turn to those closest, who knew too much, saw too much. Of course, understanding didn’t mean that he had a clue what to say.

Teal’c’s lips twitched. ‘I will endeavour to ensure Doctor McKay and Daniel Jackson do not kill each other when we visit Atlantis.’

‘That would be good.’ John smiled in appreciation for Teal’c letting him off the hook more than the promise.

Teal’c left.

An hour later, John beamed down into the Homeworld Security office at Andrews, saluted the Sergeant who was saluting him and allowed himself to be escorted out to a rental car that was a hundred times more sensible than the car John would have chosen.

John threw his duffle and jacket in the back, slipped into the driver’s seat and headed out. He was meeting Dave at a private airfield to see the plane before going into Richmond to collect Mitchell. The airfield was tucked away in land that bordered the Sheppard estate. He drove past the driveway that would take him to the main house and followed the road down. The going was bumpy enough on the access road that John was grateful for the sensible car.

He pulled up outside the hangar and got out. He stretched, easing the ache of the drive from his muscles. Dave walked out before he could get any further. John plucked his sunglasses from his face and smiled at his brother.

Dave was dressed in what passed as casual wear for him; button-down shirt, khaki pants that looked as though they’d been ironed, a sports jacket in a matching shade of taupe was thrown over the ensemble. John felt scruffy by comparison in his worn jeans and an old Air Force t-shirt under an open checked shirt that had two buttons missing.

‘Hi.’ Dave stuck out his hand and John took it, leaning in to do the awkward man-hug, pat on the back thing. Touching had never been an approved Sheppard family activity.

Dave seemed to appreciate the gesture though, smiling as John moved back and they dropped their hands. He listed his head toward the hangar. ‘Come and take a look.’

John sauntered after his brother and his eyes widened at the sight of the Cessna sitting in the hangar. She was a beauty. Sleek lines, shiny exterior. John hurried up and placed a hand on the fuselage.

‘This is…great.’ John’s already running the stats of the plane through his head; the speed the single engine could achieve for one. He grinned when he turned back to his brother. ‘This is perfect.’

‘I’m glad you like it.’

‘I’m not sure Mitchell and I can afford to rent this though.’ John admitted, thinking about the price tag that usually accompanied the plane even though he had a healthy bank account thanks to minimal spending and the remains of a trust fund his grandparents had left him.

Dave shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

John realised that the plane was likely Dave’s own property. His brother had inherited the bulk of the Sheppard estate. What had been left to John, John had handed over to his brother without regret. He didn’t need the money.

‘OK then.’ John said enthusiastically. He would owe Dave but he could live with that.

Dave motioned at an aide who, John belatedly realised, had stood to the side watching with interest. The aide handed over an official looking folder. ‘Paperwork. You need to sign some stuff.’

John nodded and when Dave headed to a nearby table, John trailed after him. Dave efficiently spread the documents on the surface and started pointing to various signature lines. John scrawled his signature over all of the pieces of paper enthusiastically without looking at much of it. He straightened when Dave indicated that there weren’t any more signatures required.

‘OK,’ Dave said cheerfully, holding out one of the documents, ‘congratulations on your new plane.’

John’s eyes snapped to his brother. ‘What?’

‘You own her.’ Dave reiterated. ‘We’ll handle getting the official registration updated.’ He pushed the form at John.

John took it and this time read what he’d signed. It was a transfer of ownership for the Cessna along with a sales figure that made his eyes widen. ‘Dave…’

‘This,’ Dave continued as though John hadn’t spoken, ‘is your security pass.’

John numbly took the slim card. It was almost like his American Express but had the Sheppard International logo on the front.

‘Your birthday is the passcode but you want to change that.’ Dave said. He handed him another couple of sheets of paper. ‘One of the guys worked up a provisional flight plan which will allow you to use our airfields. Once you log the flight plan, we’ll make sure there’s a rental car available for you at the airfields when you arrive and you’re more than welcome to use the corporate penthouses and…’

John felt the press of his father’s ghost; the deep down certainty that he was being controlled. Right on its heels was the automatic response to rebel and clear the hell out. He took a deep breath. ‘David.’ The sharp commanding tone honed in the years he’d been in Atlantis, stopped his brother mid-speech.

Dave gestured for the aide to leave. He folded his arms and regarded John belligerently.

‘This…’ John held up the papers he was holding, ‘and the airfields and the…’ he caught his breath, ‘it’s too much.’ He’d asked for help renting a plane not to have his flight organised; not to be given a plane he already loved but couldn’t afford.

‘You’re part owner of Sheppard International.’ Dave said mildly. ‘It comes with some perks.’

‘I’m…’ John’s eyes widened. ‘I signed everything back to you!’

‘No,’ Dave disagreed, ‘you signed over power of attorney for your inherited assets.’

‘So you could transfer everything to you.’ John shot back. He was a cauldron of competing emotions. Anger because he’d been fooled, resentment that he was being controlled, and underneath those was a surprising rush of bewilderment at why Dave hadn’t taken the stocks and shares, the money and property.

‘I’m not going to steal your inheritance any more than you’re going to steal mine.’ Dave said stubbornly.

John caught a flash of something before Dave turned away and hid it behind his usual icy indifference. He remembered it from their childhood. It was the same expression Dave had always worn when he would try to gain John’s approval on something and John would dismiss him. John wondered absently when he’d stopped seeing the hurt and had started seeing only the indifference that covered it up. The thought that maybe the plane and the rest of it was not about Dave controlling him but trying to please him shot through John.

The anger died out abruptly. John’s hands tightened on the papers he held almost crushing them. ‘I…I don’t know what to say.’

The change in his tone registered with Dave. His brother looked over at him sharply, eyes roaming over John as though reassuring himself of John’s changed position. His expression eased into something hopeful. ‘Thank you would be good.’ He said dryly.

‘Thank you.’ John parroted back obediently.

And suddenly, they grinned at each other. For the first time in a long while, John felt like he was a brother again.

Chapter 4

Cam was surprised when Sheppard picked him up from the airport in a two-seater Porsche convertible. He whistled and asked to drive. John grinned at him, told him it was his brother’s so could he please not damage it and threw him the keys. It boded well for them sharing a cockpit.

They made small talk about the flight and music preferences when they mock-fought over the radio. They settled on a sports channel and talked about college football. The time passed by quickly and Cam was almost startled when Sheppard pointed out a driveway and he realised they were there.

‘How rich are you?’ Cam asked, daunted by the big house and grounds although he would never admit it out loud.

Sheppard shrugged sheepishly as they pulled up. He got out and Cam followed him, picking up his bag. ‘My brother’s the businessman; he takes after our Dad. He’s very successful.’ He hovered by the side of the car as Cam tossed him the keys back. ‘I, uh, should warn you. I was, well, estranged for a while. Dave and I…well, we’ve been trying since Dad died but it’s…a work in progress.’

For a second, Sheppard was caught in the amber glow of the evening sun. He looked tired; worn and vulnerable enough that Cam was reminded of Daniel’s comment. The rush of protectiveness surprised Cam; he was sure Sheppard would kill himself laughing if he knew about it. Colonels weren’t supposed to feel protective over other Colonels who almost certainly knew several ways of killing life-sucking vampires.

‘OK.’ Cam hefted his bag. ‘Potentially hostile natives; got it.’

Sheppard’s face lit up with humour. He led the way inside and Cam followed. The place was huge. Sheppard gave him a tour before waving away a hovering housekeeper and showing Cam to a guest room. The bed was easily twice the size of the one he had at home and the adjoining bath was filled with gleaming chrome and the latest in appliances. Sheppard left him to shower with the knowledge that they’d meet downstairs and go over to the hangar before dinner so Cam could check out the plane.

It was enough of a motivation to make Cam speed through his ablutions. The trip to the hangar was equally quick and before he knew it he stood in front of a Cessna, a wide and genuine grin splitting his face for the first time in days, maybe weeks.

‘Now that’s what I’m talking about.’ Cam breathed out.

Sheppard grinned back at him. ‘Come on, let’s get acquainted.’

They checked her out completely even though they’d do the same thing before they headed out the next day. They fell easily into a working rhythm; the Air Force gifting them with shared short-hand and processes that they automatically dropped into without discussion. Sheppard explained about the private airfields and offer of accommodation, and Cam nodded along happily. They agreed to split the fuel bill and expenses for food and beer. Somewhere in the conversation, Sheppard became John.

They were going over the flight plan when John’s brother turned up. Dave seemed like an OK guy but it was clear he and John were feeling their way with one another. They all headed back to the house for dinner.

As they sat down, John threw him a look that in the field Cam would interpret as ‘you’re up’ and Cam jumped in, asking Dave about his family. Dave seemed as appreciative as John in Cam taking the lead and answered back politely about his wife of five years, Heather, and his two children, JJ and Ella. They were apparently staying in the Hamptons with Heather’s parents. There was real warmth in Dave’s descriptions of JJ who was three and Ella who was barely one, and Cam noticed John drank up the information his brother shared like a thirsty man presented with water.

Dave broke the formality of the dinner to offer up photos and somehow by the time they got to dessert, there were a couple of photo albums out and the brothers were beginning to recall embarrassing childhood memories of each other. Cam figured his work was done. He excused himself and went to bed.

He was tired enough that when he closed his eyes he knew it wasn’t going to take much to push him that extra nudge into sleep and for once, his mind refused to dwell on Amy or the aftermath. He thought about John and his brother instead; the strange dance of reconciliation they had going and wondered how much of the family estrangement was behind John’s weariness. It was nice to have something to think about apart from his own problems, Mitchell mused. He slid into sleep between one thought and the next.

Cam slept for a straight eight hours and woke with the sunrise. He got ready and went in search of John. He found him running up to the front entrance having clearly gone for a jog. John spotted him and waved as he ran up.

‘Hey, you sleep OK?’ John unhooked earphones and slid them into the pocket of his sweatpants as he placed a bottle of water on the ground and started doing a series of stretches.

Cam leaned on the wall, crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. John didn’t look like he’d slept at all. ‘You?’

‘Some.’ John picked up the water bottle and took a healthy gulp. He lifted the bottom edge of his t-shirt to wipe at his brow.

‘Ah, there you are.’ Dave came out of the front door. ‘Mrs Jeffers wanted…’ he stopped abruptly at the sight of John, paled and stared.

Cam took another look at John seeing him through Dave’s eyes; there were scars all over John’s belly, some more faded than others. Cam grimaced, remembering the same kind of look on his mother’s face after Antarctica when she’d seen the criss-cross of raw surgery scars along his legs; the realisation of how close she’d come to losing him. They were all faded now to thin silvery lines which considering the few times he’d lost his pants on missions was just as well but Cam could see each one; feel each one. John dropped the t-shirt quickly to cover himself up.

Dave swallowed and regrouped. ‘Breakfast?’

‘I’ll get dressed.’ John’s hazel eyes were wary as they met Dave’s. ‘Meet you there in fifteen minutes?’ He slid into the house without waiting for agreement.

Dave pulled himself back together quickly, turning to Cam with a polite smile. ‘You must be hungry.’

‘Breakfast sounds good.’ Cam agreed, letting Dave pretend that he hadn’t come close to falling apart at the evidence of how dangerous his brother’s life really was. Dave led the way back into the house and through to the small conservatory off the back of the kitchen. Morning sunlight was streaming in over a neatly set table. He could definitely get accustomed to this, Cam thought with satisfaction as he sat down.

Dave took the seat next to him. ‘Mrs Jeffers wanted to know how you’d like your eggs.’

Mrs Jeffers was the elderly, stout woman with grey curly hair pouring coffee into Cam’s cup. He smiled up at her. ‘Whatever’s easiest for you, ma’am.’ Before he knew it, he’d agreed to an omelette and Mrs Jeffers was walking out.

‘She’s been with the family years.’ Dave said wryly. ‘I’ve learned it’s best not to argue.’

Cam sipped his very good coffee and nodded agreeably.

‘May I ask why you joined the Air Force?’ Dave said. He fiddled with his linen napkin, ignoring the coffee and juice. His mind was evidently still occupied by John’s scars.

‘My Dad was a test pilot.’ Cam replied honestly. It wasn’t the full story but Cam thought telling the story of how his father lost his legs was probably not a good idea. ‘It was all I ever wanted to be.’

‘All John ever wanted to be too.’ Dave sighed. He offered Cam a basket of croissants.

‘What about you?’ Cam asked. He took one of the flaky pastries and ripped it apart, before spreading butter and jam liberally.

‘I always wanted to be a businessman.’ Dave admitted. He reached for his coffee and took a long gulp.

‘Like your Dad?’ Cam questioned.

Dave’s lips twisted in a parody of a smile. ‘Actually, I only got interested because of John.’

‘I’m not sure I understand.’ Cam admitted. The croissant was great; melting on his mouth and stirring his appetite.

‘Sibling thing, I guess.’ Dave explained succinctly. ‘Dad wanted John to take over the business, so despite the fact that John didn’t want it, I wanted it.’

Cam nodded thoughtfully. ‘And got it.’

Dave shrugged. ‘Dad started paying attention once I got my degree and asked for an interview into the graduate programme, and as it turns out, I’m very good at business.’

There was a pause while Mrs Jeffers slid plates of food in front of them, and before Cam could return to the topic, John entered, dressed in old jeans and another t-shirt which made Cam feel better about his own identical outfit. He looked at his plate to hide his smile at the thought that they were still conforming to a uniform of sorts.

‘So what did I miss?’ John asked as he smiled charmingly at Mrs Jeffers who blushed and told him she would be right back with his eggs.

‘Swapping career stories.’ Cam commented, carving up his omelette. ‘Your brother was telling me that he always wanted to be in business.’

John poured himself a coffee and nodded. ‘Well, he’s really good at it.’

Cam saw Dave flush with pleasure at the unexpected praise from his big brother but John’s attention was on the coffee and he didn’t notice. Cam swallowed hastily. ‘I have to admit I don’t know much about business myself.’

‘Dave increased profits this year against economic conditions.’ John informed Cam briskly. ‘Three quarters of consecutive growth. Employee satisfaction is high. We have less staff turnover compared to our competitors.’

Dave stopped eating and stared at John. ‘How do you know all that?’

‘I looked it up online last night.’ John admitted, rearranging his cutlery. He looked at his brother with amusement. ‘Thought if I’m part owner I should know the basics of how we’re doing.’ He held Dave’s expression. ‘Dad would have been proud of you.’

‘I think he was in the end,’ Dave said slowly, ‘I mean, he never said, you know how he was, but I like to think he left me what he did because he knew I was good.’

‘I think you’re right.’ John said simply and picked up his coffee.

Cam concentrated on his food and tried to pretend that he wasn’t there. He sensed that the two brothers needed the conversation; had danced around it since their reconciliation. He wondered briefly at the kind of man Patrick Sheppard had been and thought fondly of his own father.

‘I think that’s why he left you what he did too.’ Dave said tentatively.

‘Maybe.’

There was a return of tension in John’s tone. Cam raised his gaze quizzically and saw John’s hand tighten around his cup. John was ready to reassure Dave that their father loved him but it seemed John wasn’t prepared to accept such a reassurance for himself. Cam reached for his own coffee as casually as he could. ‘You’re part owner of Sheppard International?’

‘Apparently.’ John replied, and exchanged a look with his brother. There was obviously something more going on but it was between Dave and John, and since the shared brotherly moment meant the tension eased again Cam didn’t mind being made the outsider.

Mrs Jeffers arrived with John’s plate and silence broke out in favour of eating. Cam sat back, feeling full and satisfied.

Dave leaned back at the same time, leaving John alone finishing his food. ‘You know if you’re interested in knowing the basics of the business, we do have a full board meeting coming up in a few weeks.’

John speared his brother with a look that Cam interpreted as ‘I didn’t think so’ with a dash of ‘hell, no.’

Dave smiled back as though he expected the answer, signalling he was teasing. But his smile faded and his expression turned thoughtful.

‘What?’ John pressed.

Cam wondered again if he shouldn’t excuse himself and leave the brothers to it.

‘Nothing, I was…’ Dave shook his head. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

John pinned Dave with a knowing, impatient look that said ‘tell me or there will be consequences you will not like.’ Cam took a moment to admire John’s mastery of non-verbal communication and decided he had to try that particular look on his own team. It worked on Dave like a dream.

Dave cleared his throat. ‘When people realised Dad had left some stock to you, it caused some rumblings. I mean, the board didn’t know you or what you would do with it.’ He sat forward, tapping his fingers restlessly against his coffee cup. ‘Most of it went away when we announced you had no interest in the day to day running, were deployed overseas, and I was your proxy so had the controlling share.’

‘Most of it?’ John latched onto the same words that Cam had noted.

Dave’s lips thinned. ‘I’m an untried CEO, John. There are always those looking and waiting to see me fail, and if I do…’ he lifted an eyebrow sardonically, ‘it couldn’t have escaped your notice that your stock combined with a couple of others on the board could shift control of the company.’

John frowned. ‘Well, one; that it isn’t going to happen because you’re going to be my proxy like forever and, two: you’re a great CEO.’

Cam knew John saw Dave’s delight in the praise because John went almost as red as Dave, and both of them suddenly found their coffee very interesting. He rubbed his arm and decided the Sheppard brothers had provided him with enough unknowing entertainment for the morning. He suggested that he meet John in half an hour to go to the hangar and received a nod in return. He heard the murmur of their voices starting up again as he left the conservatory.

It took him no time at all to pack up. He dumped his bag in the hall and headed out for a walk. The difference between his parents’ well-worn farm and the glossy manicure of the Sheppard’s estate hit him before he’d walked a hundred yards but he kept going until he reached a fence. He leaned on the top railing, painted a perfect white, and watched the horses.

His mind strayed back to the Sheppard family; he wondered idly what it must have been like to grow up with so much wealth and yet so little certainty of a parent’s love and approval. He wondered idly what happened to John’s Mom; where she had been while Patrick Sheppard had played power games with his sons.

He felt a rush of thanks for his own parents. He thought of their unquestioning support of his career even after the crash in Antarctica; of his decision about Amy. He remembered his Dad’s words at the airport, remembered the brief courtesy call to his Mom when he’d arrived at the airport and her maternal concern for him.

Suddenly, he couldn’t remember why he had felt trapped at home; why he was running away from them. He reached for his cell before he could question the action.

‘Frank Mitchell.’

‘Hey, Dad, it’s me.’ Cam turned around and rested back on the railing, one arm crossed tightly over his torso.

‘You OK, son?’ His Dad asked immediately.

‘I’m…’ not OK. Cam shook his head and began again. ‘I just…I love you guys; you know that right?’

‘We know.’ His Dad said. ‘We love you too.’

And Cam wanted to explain, wanted to tell his Dad that he was right; Cam knew he was unhappy but he didn’t know why. He was going to find out though and then he was going to fix it; that he hated that they couldn’t fix it for him because he knew it hurt them…which might have been why he needed to leave the farm but he couldn’t seem to think of the words; couldn’t seem to talk past the lump in his throat.

‘We’re going to be right here when you’re through this.’ His Dad said into the silence.

Cam rubbed a hand over his head and stared at the grass. ‘I don’t even know what I’m doing.’

‘You’re doing what you need to do right now.’ His Dad said reassuringly. ‘We understand.’

Cam laughed at that roughly. ‘I’m glad someone does.’

‘It’s working though, isn’t it?’ His Dad pointed out gently.

And he was right; the day before Cam would never had called his Dad; never admitted that anything was wrong other than the obvious break-up and debacle with Amy. He shifted and caught sight of John by the front door. Cam waved to acknowledge that he’d seen him.

‘I have to go, Dad.’ Cam said.

‘Stay safe.’ His Dad replied.

Cam finished the call and headed back toward the house. John was loading the car with their duffle bags and two large coolers.

‘Provisions.’ John explained. ‘Mrs Jeffers insisted and…’

‘And it’s better not to argue with Mrs Jeffers.’ Cam finished with a smile, handing him the second cooler.

‘All OK?’ John gestured back towards the fence and Cam gets that he’s referring obliquely to the phone call.

‘Just checking in with my folks.’ Cam replied. It felt good to say it and mean it. He stepped back to let John close the trunk.

John turned around and Dave walked over. There was a painful moment of hesitation before Dave reached for his brother. They hugged awkwardly and both wore relieved faces when they stepped back.

‘So.’ John said.

Dave pushed his hands into his pants’ pockets. ‘I’ll call you about San Francisco.’

John nodded. He made for the driver’s seat.

Cam reached his hand out to shake Dave’s. ‘Thanks for the hospitality.’

‘Any time.’ Dave darted a glance toward John and back to Cam. There was evidently something he wanted to say but couldn’t. Cam could take a guess at what it was.

‘I’ll look after him.’ Cam promised in a low voice.

Dave’s expression cleared. ‘Thanks.’

Cam slid into the passenger seat and, with a final wave at Dave, they were on their way back to the hangar.

‘San Francisco?’ Cam asked as he settled into the seat.

‘Dave’s going to meet me when we get there.’ John said as though it wasn’t a big deal. His face twisted into a grimace. ‘So we can finalise the details for the board meeting.’

Cam smiled. He might have guessed faced with the choice of protecting his brother or not, John would have given in.

‘It’s not funny.’ John grumbled. ‘I have to wear a suit.’

‘That is awful.’ Cam agreed insincerely. ‘I don’t know how you’ll survive.’

John lifted a hand from the wheel and when he glanced at Cam, laughter sparked golden glints in John’s hazel eyes. ‘Go ahead. Laugh it up.’

‘You could change your mind.’ Cam teased.

‘Really can’t.’ John sighed, sobering. ‘He didn’t say it but I think he needs a show of strength to consolidate his position.’ He glanced over again. ‘Thanks by the way. It’s helped having you here as a…’

‘Visiting diplomat?’ Cam offered when John struggled to find a description.

John laughed shortly. ‘That works.’

‘You never reconciled with your father before his death?’ Cam asked curious.

‘No.’

And the walls went up with the single word. The subject was as off-limits as it had been when Cam had offered his condolences over a year before in a rushed meeting in an elevator at the SGC. He wondered whether John had grieved for his father at all; whether it was grief at the root of the fatigue that dogged the other man.

Tactically, Cam changed the subject to the flight plan and they talked about that until they arrived at the hangar. It was a busy morning. They finalised the plan, logging it with the air authorities along with the paperwork with the help of Dave’s assistant, and with the SGC. They checked over the plane again and packed her up with the bags and coolers.

Just after lunch, they were ready to go. John assumed the controls and Cam tried hard not to fidget in the seat beside him as John radioed Richmond and asked for clearance. It was John’s plane but Cam knew he’d get his turn.

Two minutes later, the plane raced down the airstrip and zoomed into the open blue sky. Cam’s heart lifted as they climbed; his breathing easing out with each cloud they passed.

John grinned beside him and Cam grinned back.

Cam’s Dad was right; Cam was doing exactly what he needed to do and he needed this; needed to fly like he needed air.

Next: Flight, Chapters 5-10