Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Chapter 11

John collapsed onto the hard wooden seat at the small table he and Mitchell had appropriated in the bar and reached for his beer. He was breathless from dancing with a very athletic brunette with a very pretty smile. Mitchell smirked at him from behind his own tankard of amber liquid. John had been inveigled into dancing by a matronly woman who could have been his grandmother before being passed off on the dance floor to the younger crowd. The attempt at match-making was obvious enough that even John could see it. Mitchell had gotten out of it by rubbing his knee and claiming an old injury. John thought that it might not be just an excuse.

‘She’s cute.’ Mitchell commented, waving in the direction of the gaggle of women over in the far corner where John had escorted the brunette after declining to dance for a fifth time.

‘She’s in love with Billy Ray,’ John lifted a hand from his beer, ‘or Billy Bob or something. But he’s cheated on her with her best friend, Amber or Jade or something. She’s looking to make Billy Whoever jealous; I told her she should find someone else.’

Mitchell spluttered with laughter. ‘You made that up.’

John shook his head and smiled. ‘Go ahead; dance with her; she’ll tell you the same thing.’ He took a long swallow of his beer and settled back, surprised to find that he was relaxed and having fun. He looked around. The bar was country – not surprising since they were in Texas, Clancyville to be exact. It had been his mother’s hometown and Sheppard International owned the place pretty much.

He and Mitchell had originally been scheduled to fly to Houston after New Orleans but since they’d needed to change up the flight plan, Mitchell had suggested the ranch in Clancyville after spotting it on the list of properties John owned. The other man took his responsibility of holding John’s power of attorney seriously.

It was a good suggestion. Clancyville was in the middle of nowhere; secure; the town was ten miles down the road from the ranch and small enough that strangers got noticed. The bar had even paused for a moment of silence when he and Mitchell had walked in. They hadn’t looked at each other for fear of laughing.

It had been Mitchell who had suggested heading out to a bar instead of staying at the ranch. John had readily agreed. They knew they had to be careful with the threat of the Lucien Alliance hanging over their heads but they’d gone places and done things anyway; walking the line between being sensible and being sensible.

John thought he’d suggest riding in the morning instead of their usual run. He wanted to check out the stables and the stock; talk to the manager, Jeff Hart. He’d been oblivious that his father had actually kept the ranch, assigning Hart to run it and run it well; the ranch was making money raising horses for cattle-work and rodeo. It was a sprawl of a place; ten bedrooms each with their own bath, two dens, games room, two formal rooms, a huge kitchen, and a library. It had been in his mother’s family since the West had opened up; John’s heart had kind of stuttered when Mitchell had pointed it out on the list of assets because, maybe, just maybe it was something that John actually wanted.

He remembered when his mother had been alive how they’d spend a week every winter and a week every summer out at the ranch visiting with his grandparents until they’d both died; his grandmother when he’d been eight and his grandfather only a year later. John had loved every minute of every stay; the horses, the wide open spaces, freedom from his father who never came with them. His father had never sent them after his mother’s death, and it seemed better to forget than mourn something as nebulous as a place. And then there had college, the Air Force, Atlantis.

John was already thinking that he could make the ranch his home for the rare occasions he was back on Earth. He’d sold his apartment in San Francisco before taking the Atlantis position and he didn’t have another place; his stuff was in storage. He’d probably need to look into a better communication system for when Rodney visited, because listening to the litany of complaints about no Internet and how was a civilised person expected to live that way would get old very quickly, but he thought Ronon and Teyla would like the place.

He swallowed down another mouthful of beer. Mitchell pointed towards an empty pool table on the other side of the bar, away from the dance floor. John nodded his agreement and they sauntered over to grab pool cues and chalk. The local guys gave them friendly enough nods; they weren’t intruding on anyone’s territory, and John relaxed.

John let Mitchell set up and take the first shot. He was good but John was better. It was all mathematics to him; the calculation of angles, force and velocity. John won the first game easily.

Mitchell sighed and glared at him. ‘I might have known you’d be a hustler.’

‘Hey, I’m not as bad as Sam.’ John pointed out as he set up again.

‘That’s because you’re not as good as her either.’ Mitchell grinned broadly and pushed John back from the table gently. ‘And loser gets to break.’

‘Want to make it interesting?’ John asked with an answering grin of his own as he watched the balls spin and slide across the green.

Mitchell lifted an eyebrow in mute query, moving back so John could take his position to shoot. ‘What?’

‘Winner gets to go first in the story-telling tomorrow.’ John calculated the angle on the first ball and it sank into the pocket with a satisfying thunk.

Mitchell had won the story-telling the day before because John couldn’t find a ‘pretended to be bad guys during a first contact’ story in response to Mitchell’s tale of pretending to be terrorists and taking a museum hostage. Mitchell’s story had ended up with John in fits of laughter especially at Mitchell’s description of the alien John McClane and Vala’s multiple attempts to break into a display cabinet to get to a Goa’uld bomb.

‘I can honestly say,’ John had replied when Mitchell had pressed him for a response, ‘my team has never gone on a first contact mission, pretended to be terrorists and held people hostage.’ There had been a small voice inside him suggesting it was only a matter of time.

He had ended up telling Mitchell about Teyla pretending to be a Wraith Queen which was the closest they’d come to pretending to be bad guys that he could recall. If the story terms had been different, John was sure he would have won. After all, Mitchell hadn’t had to undergo extensive surgery.

Having lost that round, John had been determined over the latest competition. After some discussion with Rodney at their daily check-in, he’d gone for the Genii invasion of Atlantis. Mitchell had countered with a story of how the SGC had taken over by multiple copies of Ba’al. They’d agreed John had won before Mitchell had gone on to tell a couple more stories from before his time at the SGC; one where Sam had saved the day from aliens with mimic devices, and one where the SGC got invaded by invisible insect-like creatures. John was torn between fascination and the idle thought that he wasn’t certain he wanted to know how many times Earth had come close to being completely wiped out by invading aliens. Either way, four days of swapping stories had established one thing in John’s mind: whoever went first definitely had an advantage.

‘You’re on.’ Mitchell agreed with another one of his easy smiles that reminded John of his late friend, Holland; one of the friends he’d failed to rescue in Afghanistan.

Holland had always been the easy-going one in the team; not as loud as Mitch and Dex, not as quiet as John. He’d been military through and through. Somehow, Mitchell’s Hollandesque solidity was healing; bringing back fun memories of stupid competitions, games and camaraderie instead of sand, heat and blood.

John was distracted by the raised voices in the other side of the bar by the dance floor and fluffed the last shot he needed. Mitchell gave a small murmur of triumph and moved in as John stepped back only to stop sharply at the sight of a group of men approaching them.

John’s tension translated straight to Mitchell who straightened. Somehow it took less than three seconds for John and Mitchell to turn around and for their grips on the pool cues to shift denoting the subconscious change of use from game-tool to weapon. They were sizing up the opposition automatically.

It wasn’t the Lucien Alliance, John deduced quickly; all three men wore variations of worn jeans, shirts and cowboy boots. Locals. Angry locals. He swapped a ‘what the hell’ look with Mitchell that was only moderated by their disbelief and the disconnected feeling they’d fallen into the plot of a bad movie.

‘Now, boys,’ the bartender, a grey-haired old guy named Lou, ambled over, ‘let’s not be hasty here, Billy Lee. These folks are visiting the Sheppard ranch.’

Ah. Billy Lee. John belatedly saw the gaggle of women rushing up behind the group of local men.

His former dance partner put her hand on Billy Lee’s arm, which John catalogued as bigger than his own but not nearly as muscular as Ronon’s. ‘It’s none of your business, Billy Lee!’ She said stridently, but there was a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes that told John that she was pleased with unfolding events.

John barely managed to restrain the eye-roll. ‘What appears to be the problem?’ He asked, trying for friendly.

‘You’ve been hitting on my girl!’ Billy Lee sneered, his dark eyes bulging.

‘No,’ John drawled slowly, ‘we danced. Twice. Once to Shania Twain.’ Which he thought should prove the inanity of the accusation because who hit on someone when they were dancing to ‘I Feel Like a Woman.’

‘You big time executives think you could show up here and hit on our girls all the time!’ Billy Lee shoved a finger in the direction of John’s chest. ‘Well, I say enough is enough!’

‘My friend’s telling the truth.’ Mitchell said firmly. ‘Look, I’m sure none of us want to fight here. Why don’t we just head on back to the ranch and leave you folks to it?’

‘Not this time.’ Billy Lee took a step toward them.

John’s grip tightened on the pool cue. ‘You really don’t want to do this.’

‘Oh, I think I do.’

It was the only warning they got. John sidestepped the punch that Billy Lee aimed for his face, far too aware that the guy’s friends had both gone for Mitchell – probably they’d been told to keep him out of it while Billy Lee took care of John.

John had the pool cue up before Billy Lee recovered from the forward momentum of the punch. John moved with the grace drummed into him by Teyla over years of bantos fighting, his heart racing but his breaths even; he smacked Billy Lee’s legs out from under him; issued another blow to his gut as Billy Lee tipped forward and as John ended up behind him, smacked him lightly on the back of the head; enough so that Billy Lee lost consciousness but not so there was serious damage.

There was a shocked murmur as Billy Lee collapsed on the wooden floor in a heap.

But John wasn’t finished. He spun around to assess the threat to Mitchell. One guy was on the ground clutching his groin; the other was like Billy Lee – out for the count. Mitchell’s lip was bloodied but he looked undamaged otherwise.

The whole encounter had taken less than a minute. The bar was totally silent with shock.

Billy Lee’s girlfriend gave a shriek and ran forward to kneel beside her fallen beau. ‘What did you do?’ She glared up at John furiously.

Mitchell dabbed his lip and shared a bemused look with John.

‘Maybe someone should call a doctor or an ambulance.’ John suggested loudly.

‘No need.’ A strong voice called out from the front door. A mature man wearing a sheriff’s beige uniform, walked over with a young deputy scurrying in his wake.

‘Ah, Nate; good of you to show up.’ Lou greeted him.

‘Well, isn’t this the clusterfuck?’ Nate said.

John had a horrible feeling that they were going to get arrested and sent to prison without trial. It occurred to him that maybe he’d watched too many episodes of The A-Team.

Nate kept a hand on his sidearm and nodded at both John and Mitchell. ‘I’d be putting those pool cues down now.’

John left his on the table and Mitchell did the same.

‘This isn’t what it looks like.’ Mitchell began awkwardly.

‘They attacked Billy Lee!’ Billy Lee’s girlfriend yelled. ‘Look at him! He’s unconscious!’

And drooling, John noted.

‘He attacked us first.’ John felt compelled to point out.

‘That true, Lou?’ Nate asked casually.

‘It was.’ Lou sighed. ‘Tiffany here danced a couple of times with this fella,’ he motioned towards John who attempted a smile as though to indicate he was harmless really, ‘and I don’t know how Billy Lee found out,’ Tiffany flushed prettily and looked at the floor, ‘but he came in looking for a fight and started one.’

Nate hummed. His hair was white; his pale blue eyes flinty. ‘He may have started it but he didn’t end it.’ He looked over his shoulder at the hovering deputy who barely looked out of high school. ‘Well, what’re you waiting for? Call the Doc.’

The deputy scuttled off.

‘Names?’ Nate asked, taking out a notebook and looking at Mitchell expectantly. ‘I hate arresting people if I don’t know their names.’

John looked over at Mitchell; they were definitely in trouble but it would be fine. Maybe a night in a jail cell before Nate got hold of Sam, they argued about jurisdiction, and the whole thing got referred back to the Air Force. He was fairly confident Sam wouldn’t court martial them for self-defence but Rodney was never going to let him forget this. Ever.

Mitchell cleared his throat and tugged out his dog-tags. ‘Colonel Cameron Mitchell; United States Air Force.’

A hush of whispers broke out at that. Nate paused in writing, pencil poised about the paper. His eyes moved to John and narrowed.

John was already pulling his own tags out from under his t-shirt. ‘Colonel John Sheppard; United States Air Force.’

The hush stopped abruptly at his name. Tiffany looked mortified.

‘Don’t know why I didn’t recognise you, son. You have the look of your mother.’ Nate heaved a sigh of his own and put his notebook away.

The hurt that slid in like a butter knife under his ribs at the mention of his mother was swiftly followed by a rush of embarrassment. John didn’t look at Mitchell. ‘If you’re giving us a free pass because of my name, Sheriff, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.’

‘Oh boy.’ Mitchell lowered his head into his hand.

John felt a sliver of guilt but he wouldn’t be the rich boy trading on his father’s name; that had never been John.

‘Well, now; I’m giving you boys a free pass because you’re military, and with your ranks I’d just end up talking to some General, and I don’t need that kind of hassle and paperwork to give you a slapped wrist for the violence especially since it’s clearly a case of self-defence.’ Nate announced briskly. ‘Least you didn’t kill them. I reckon you pulled your punches.’

‘God!’ The man with the bruised balls spluttered out. He was still curled up on the floor with his hands over the sensitive area. ‘That was him pulling his punches?’

Every man in the bar wore a look of sympathy.

John pinned on a smile. ‘We’ll, uh, pay for the medical bills.’ God knew he had enough money, and John knew exactly how much because Mitchell had insisted on going through it all with him.

‘That’s mighty fine of you, son.’ Nate’s blue eyes warmed from flinty to amused. ‘Why don’t I give you boys an escort back to the ranch?’

‘Sure.’ John said brightly, recognising the command under the suggestion. He cast a questioning look at Mitchell who nodded. Their quiet night in the bar was over.

Billy Lee stirred and moaned. Tiffany got to her feet. She reached out to John as he went to move past her.

‘Mister Sheppard…’

Before John could say anything, Nate stepped up to her with a frown.

‘Tiffany, gal, you don’t go calling a Colonel Mister, and I think you’ve done enough damage for one night, don’t you?’

Tiffany flushed red again.

John gifted her with a tight smile that he knew didn’t reach his eyes and waved a hand magnanimously because he could tell she was worrying about her home or her work or whether he’d be pissed off at her enough to kick her out of both since he owned the town and all. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

They retrieved their discarded jackets and Nate walked them out. A battered Ford pickup arrived and a doctor jumped out barely acknowledging Nate who gestured for them to get in their car, a sensible four-wheel off-roader.

Mitchell climbed into the passenger side and John took the wheel. They pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

‘So that was surreal.’ John commented dryly.

Mitchell’s teeth flashed white in the dark. ‘And definitely not sensible.’

John could tell Mitchell was smiling without looking at him.

‘Nice moves, by the way.’ Mitchell added.

‘Thank you.’ John said wryly. ‘And I should say the same about you. You had two to deal with.’

‘Sodan training and hours of sparring with Teal’c.’ Mitchell explained, brushing off John’s praise. He touched his lip ruefully. ‘Possibly this should go on The List.’

John frowned. ‘The fight or your lip?’

They’d established The List as things they’ve sworn they won’t talk about outside of their vacation; a twist on the ‘what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’ theme. The skating they had ended up watching the night of the bug nightmares was the first item, swiftly followed by the bug nightmares themselves, and getting hopelessly lost on the way back from their morning run in New Orleans and having to get a taxi back to the apartment.

‘Both.’ Mitchell replied with a short laugh.

They were back at the ranch without any trouble and Nate pulled up alongside them. John invited him in for a coffee but Nate declined. Mitchell excused himself seeming to sense as John did that Nate wanted a word privately.

John let the smell of horse manure, grass and dust fill up his nostrils. A tug of wind tried to mess with his hair. He thought he knew what this was about. ‘You’ve had problems with the execs that have been staying here.’

Nate sighed. ‘Some. They think because the company owns the town that gives them privileges.’ He rocked back on his heels. ‘Doesn’t excuse how Tiffany used you though and if you want to press charges against Billy Lee, I’ll certainly pursue it.’

John wasn’t happy that his suspicions were confirmed; what it said about some of the company’s people. He was just as pissed off and furious about it as he had been at finding out one of his men had sexually harassed one of the scientists. It was unacceptable. His lips thinned and he nodded decisively. ‘Forget the charges and you should know I’m taking back the ranch as a homestead for when I’m stateside.’ He informed Nate. ‘There’ll be no more trouble.’

‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, son.’ Nate said cheerfully. His eyes swept over him. ‘I really should have recognised you, John-boy; your hair always was an unholy mess.’

And just like that, John could remember a younger Nate; a deputy with a smile as warm as the summer sun calling in at the ranch to check on things and taking tea with his grandmother. The memory rushed in and blinded him.

Nate tipped his hat. ‘It’s late. You should get inside.’ He got into his car and drove away.

John breathed in deeply, shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and looked up at the stars. They were bright and shiny in the indigo sky. He tracked each constellation before his gaze aimed towards Pegasus. If he closed his eyes, he could feel Atlantis; the hum of her presence deep in the back of his mind. It felt wrong to feel her on Earth; she belonged in Pegasus. And he belonged where she was. He shook off the melancholy and headed inside.

The next morning brought heavy dew on the ground and a cold wind blowing in from the North. The mare John rode, Willowtree, was a beautiful bay. John took it easy; it had been a long time since he had ridden a horse. He walked her for a while before he let her have her head. She was fast over the open ground. John brought her to a halt still in sight of the ranch house.

Mitchell had declined the riding experience, claiming he was sore from the fight. John had sensed something more in the way Mitchell’s eyes hadn’t met his but he let it go. He thought it was probably a good thing the two of them had some time alone. Mitchell hadn’t complained since their initial conversation on the balcony in Panama City, and it helped that they got along great, but John knew if it was him, he’d be frustrated at the restriction of never being out in public without a bodyguard. John brushed a finger over the ubiquitous earpiece and tried not to resent that.

John wondered if Rodney had gotten any further on finding out why the two week leave period was so all-fired important. He tried to be patient. He knew Rodney was working on hacking into Landry’s files in between trying to fix the city, and the latter was more important. John steadied the horse as she fidgeted. He and Mitchell had agreed not to pressure Sam after Rodney had told John about the briefing on Atlantis that had hinted at the two week issue, and Sam’s nudge in the right direction. It was clear that she’d been given a direct order not to inform them.

His cell phone vibrated in the inner pocket of his jacket and John reached for it gingerly, trying to remain balanced on the horse at the same time. He barely remembered to slap it against the other side of his head from the earpiece.

‘Sheppard.’

‘John.’ Dave replied. ‘My assistant said you left a message about the Clancyville ranch.’

They hadn’t talked since the discussion on the Trust and the unintended segue into their mother’s death. Dave’s assistant had texted John with the details for their meeting up in San Francisco and John had spoken with her regarding changes to the flight plan and accommodations. It had been Marcie who he’d spoken to that morning with the instruction to cancel all corporate visits to the ranch; that he was designating it family property again. He hadn’t expected Dave to call.

‘John?’ Dave said impatiently.

John cleared his throat. ‘Yeah, I want the ranch to be family only from now on.’

‘Yeah, I kind of thought you might say that.’ Dave agreed with surprising ease. ‘You always loved the place when we were kids.’

‘It’s, uh, more than that.’ John said defensively. ‘I talked with the Sheriff last night. Some of our company guys have been making pests of themselves with the locals.’

‘Seriously? Who?’ Dave sounded pissed off and John couldn’t determine whether it was affront at the suggestion or a mirror of John’s own anger that anyone who worked for them would be such a dick.

‘I don’t know.’ John muttered. ‘He didn’t name names.’

‘I’ll look through the records and send anyone who’s been there in the last year on sensitivity training.’ Dave said decisively, and John breathed out at the assurance that Dave’s anger was the same as his own.

‘You might want to send a reminder note on sexual harassment being grounds for firing too.’ John suggested, thinking back to the Marine situation he’d handled. ‘That is our policy isn’t it?’

‘If it’s not, it soon will be.’ Dave agreed.

They fell silent.

‘You know I haven’t been out to the ranch since…’ Dave finally murmured.

‘Yeah.’ John cut him off.

‘It’s good to make it for family again.’ Dave said. ‘I don’t think Dad ever understood, well, he never came with us, did he? I always wondered why.’

John knew the answer to that. ‘He and Gramps didn’t get along.’

‘They didn’t?’ Dave said, surprised.

‘No.’ John swallowed around the lump in his throat. ‘I, uh, overheard Mom and Grandma one day talking about it.’

‘You remember those chocolate chip pancakes Mom used to make for us when we stayed there?’ Dave sighed. ‘I loved those pancakes.’

‘I remember.’ John said, his throat closing up unexpectedly as memories pressed in at the back of his mind. He had to get off the phone. ‘Dave…’

‘I’m sorry.’ Dave blurted out abruptly. ‘About the last call; about…everything I guess. I never really considered how it was for you after…after Mom died.’

John felt the sting of tears and pretended it was the wind. He patted Willowtree’s neck. ‘Dave…’ he had to stop him talking somehow.

‘I always…’ Dave sighed heavily. ‘I mean, I was eight; you stopped talking to me. I thought you regretted saving me.’

‘Never.’ The word was out of John’s mouth without thinking. ‘Geez, Dave.’ The horse shifted under him and John clutched onto the saddle horn for a moment before she stilled again. ‘I never regretted saving you.’ He said carefully. The rest tumbled out unexpectedly. ‘At least I saved you…I just…I couldn’t save her too.’ He hadn’t been able to save a lot of people; Ford, Elizabeth, the original Carson, and a host of others; their names clamouring in his mind one after another.

‘You tried.’ Dave replied softly.

‘It wasn’t enough.’ John said tiredly. He wasn’t enough. He really wanted this conversation to end. ‘Look, Dave…’

‘I know; I should let you get back to your leave.’ Dave said briskly. ‘I’ll, um, see you in San Francisco?’

‘Yeah. See you.’ John ended the call and rested the warm plastic against his forehead for a long moment before stuffing it back in his pocket. He turned back for the stable and urged Willowtree into a full on gallop.

John waved the stable hand away when he got back and took care of Willowtree himself. He let himself get lost in the routine and methodical process of cooling the horse down, grooming her and seeing to her needs; his mind blessedly blank as it filled with details he’d half-forgotten about preparing the mash and how to hold the tail. He was sweaty and looking forward to a shower when he was done.

‘Sheppard, are you there?’ Rodney’s voice right in his ear almost made him stumble on the stairs up to his bedroom.

He took a breath and tapped the earpiece. ‘I’m here, and can’t you call me on the phone like normal people?’

‘Why?’ Rodney asked briskly. ‘This is a much quicker and more efficient use of my time.’

‘Speaking of which,’ John’s head creased a little and he started back up the stairs, ‘shouldn’t you be asleep?’

‘It’s that late?’ Rodney suddenly seemed to realise it was night in his time zone. ‘Oh. I was working.’

‘Why am I not surprised?’ John quipped. He made for his room. ‘Rodney, is this a social call because I’ve been riding and need a shower.’

‘A bike or your skateboard?’ Rodney interrupted.

‘A horse.’ John retorted.

‘As in a real horse?’ Rodney asked. ‘Isn’t that dangerous?’

‘I’m going to take my shower now.’ John said with exaggerated patience. ‘I’ll call you later.’

‘No. Wait. This is important.’ Rodney babbled. ‘I, uh, finally got that information I was looking for.’

And John stopped in the act of peeling his t-shirt off and sat on his bed. ‘You did?’

‘And actually looking at this, I think I should probably call you on your landline and tell both you and Mitchell together.’ Rodney conceded. ‘Twenty minutes?’

‘Twenty minutes.’ John agreed. The earpiece went dead. John tossed it on the bedside table and ran for the shower because from the serious note in Rodney’s voice, whatever Rodney had found out, it was important.

Chapter 12

Cam paced back across the study and checked the clock again. It had been thirty minutes since McKay had contacted John.

John shot him a ‘sit down and stop pacing’ look of annoyance from his position on a plump leather sofa and Cam subsided into the matching deep leather chair, glad to get off his feet. His hand drifted towards the bruise on his rib from a blow one of the locals had managed to land. He ignored the aches in his left leg which had nothing to do with the fight. The sore muscles in his shoulders though made him almost glad that John would have the majority of the flight time later. He ignored the niggling worry that his body was failing like a battered old plane that needed too much maintenance.

‘He’s late.’ Cam pointed out needlessly.

‘We’ll give him another five minutes.’ John said, frowning.

Cam could see the hint of worry in his eyes. If Rodney had been caught hacking into Landry’s files…

The phone rang and they both jolted upright. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so important.

John smiled sheepishly and reached over to press the button on the speakerphone he’d hunted out and placed on the coffee table between them, along with the jamming device Woolsey had gifted them. ‘Sheppard.’

‘Sorry, sorry, took me longer than I thought to hack the satellite to jump the signal and…you didn’t need to know about that. In fact, let’s just forget that I mentioned that, right? Although it’s not like you wouldn’t already know…’

‘McKay.’ John said firmly, interrupting the steady flow of words. Cam mused that John could probably win a gold medal if McKay-wrangling ever became a national sport.

‘Is, um, Mitchell there?’

‘I’m here, McKay.’ Cam slid forward in the chair to speak closer to the phone.

‘Good, good.’ Rodney harrumphed. ‘So, I’m not sure where to begin here because…’

‘Begin at the beginning, Rodney.’ John suggested calmly, inching forward on the sofa to hunch over the speakerphone.

Cam felt his mouth dry up in anticipation; he was unexpectedly nervous, hands sweating.

‘OK.’ Rodney took a breath and launched in. ‘Well, the beginning according to this was an official mission that Colonel Mitchell here undertook approximately around the time you, John, took your little side-trip into one potential future timeline that thankfully is now never going to happen so…maybe he can actually begin by informing us of the mission because all the official reports had been blacked out.’

‘What mission, Rodney?’ John asked before Cam could.

‘Oh, um, the mission to go undercover with the Lucien Alliance with the objective of obtaining information regarding the location of the Ba’al.’

Cam frowned. The mission had straightforward; above board. ‘Are you sure that’s the mission because there’s no reason for those reports to be blacked out?’

‘No, I’m not sure,’ Rodney replied snappily, ‘I’m making this up for my health and…’

‘McKay.’ A warning note entered John’s voice but the look he was aiming was at Cam.

Cam knew he was being told without words to stop questioning McKay just as John was telling McKay to play nicely with Cam. Cam sighed and rubbed the back of his head. ‘We had intelligence that one of the new players in the Lucien Alliance was rumoured to know where Ba’al was. I went undercover pretending to be another Lucien Alliance player who was rarely seen. I’d done it before and this was pretty much the same thing. Anyway, long story short; I spent a couple of days there and my cover was blown. I ended up in a cell and I was expecting torture, pain, more torture…’

‘The usual.’ John commented.

‘Right.’ Cam gave a shrug. ‘Only instead I get taken to her quarters and…’

‘Her quarters.’ Rodney said on the other end of the line. ‘I might have known. Never mind. Carry on.’

‘We talked.’ Cam stressed, defensively.

There was a muffled snort from Rodney and he could tell John was laughing at him silently because the corners of his eyes had crinkled up.

Cam rolled his eyes at them. ‘Anyway, I managed to convince Allia that giving me the information about Ba’al and letting me go was the best thing for everybody and…’ he made a flappy motion with his hand.

‘That was it.’ John deciphered.

‘A couple of days later we’d verified the intel with the Tok’ra and went Ba’al hunting.’ Cam shrugged. ‘I wrote up the report but Allia was never named to protect her.’

‘Hmmm,’ Rodney’s voice drifted up from the speakerphone, ‘well, what you didn’t know was two weeks after Ba’al bit the dust, your lady friend contacted the SGC. You were on another mission with SG1 and General Landry took the call.’

‘Allia called the SGC?’ Cam felt stunned.

‘Apparently you made quite the impression and she wanted to see you specifically,’ Rodney needled, ‘but she finally acquiesced to meeting up with Landry. They, uh, talked and she cut a deal.’

‘She agreed to spy for us.’ John said out loud what Cam was thinking.

‘For a year after which she’d get to come to Earth and begin a whole new life.’ Rodney confirmed.

Cam frowned. ‘Why wasn’t I told?’

‘Because it was kept off the books.’ Rodney sounded as though he’s talking with his mouth full. ‘Way, way, way off the books. I mean we’re talking like Landry’s personal project off the books. Until the Lucien Alliance tried to force you guys off the map, the only people who knew about this project other than Landry as far as I could tell were O’Neill, Sergeant Harriman, Major Davis and the President.’

‘OK,’ John said slowly, ‘so this secret task force that Landry’s supposedly heading up in Washington which everyone thought was about moving the Stargate out of the mountain…’

And suddenly Cam caught on. Crap.

‘Not so much.’ Rodney agreed. ‘He’s debriefing her.’

Cam felt his lips twitch; he glanced at John and that was all it took to have them both laughing out loud.

‘What? Are you both twelve?’ Rodney spluttered. ‘And that’s just so…I so did not need that image in my mind thank you very much!’

‘Sorry, Rodney.’ John waved a hand at the phone.

‘Yes. Sorry, Rodney.’ Cam parroted, tapping at his chest and trying to catch his breath.

‘Hmmph.’ Rodney didn’t sound at all mollified by their apologies. ‘Where was I?’

John’s eyes snapped to Cam and there was a fraught moment as they both bit back the urge to start laughing again.

‘Right,’ Rodney continued oblivious, ‘the deal Landry made said they’d bring her in from the cold after a year; give her a new life here on Earth. New identity, the works. In return, she provided intel via Landry using the Ancient communication stones. As far as I could see, she would take over Harriman for an hour every couple of weeks or so.’

‘Is it just me or does that not creep you the hell out?’ John stroked a hand over his upper arm as though cold.

‘It was creepy enough when Vala and Daniel did it.’ Cam murmured. His hands curled into fists. He was angry at being left out of the loop; angry that Landry had chosen Harriman as his confidante when it had Cam who had made the initial contact. Yet, he knew the General. He knew Landry had made the decision he thought best.

‘Anyway, according to the information I’ve managed to, uh, gather, all goes well the first month but then, Allia provided them with intelligence that the SGC had to use to rescue SG12.’ Rodney continued.

‘I remember that mission.’ Cam said grimly and pushed back the memory of SG12’s battered bodies; they’d been tortured and mutilated before they’d been rescued. Of all of them, only Lieutenant Estel hadn’t been medically discharged afterwards.

‘Rumours begin, or more accurately rumours of rumours, all saying that someone was telling Earth the Alliance secrets.’ Something crunched and rustled; Rodney was definitely eating something. ‘And then one Alliance operative gets it into their head to investigate properly and somehow finds out about the deal. Luckily Allia manages to, well, terminate the problem – and that’s not a phrase I use lightly, but not before the details of the deal make it out into the wider Alliance minus who the spy actually is.’

‘So, the Alliance knew they’d got someone telling us their secrets; that the spy had a year to deliver and after that they get a new shiny life on Earth beginning with this three week debrief.’ John said.

‘And that Colonel Mitchell here was the first contact.’ Rodney adds. ‘That’s why they targeted him.’

‘They thought I would know about the deal.’ Cam realises. ‘That I would lead them right to the spy.’

‘You know what I don’t get,’ John said, ‘why wait the year? Why not try and find whoever they thought was spying and deal with them immediately?’

‘Good questions,’ Rodney admitted somewhat grudgingly, ‘and from Allia’s intelligence reports, they were definite attempts. They even came close a couple of times. But, no. Mitchell here was their plan B.’

‘If they didn’t find the spy in the year then the only option was to take her out here before she gets the chance to tell us everything in the debrief.’ John said.

‘Or take her out regardless.’ Cam said. ‘The Alliance take a dim view of traitors.’

‘Presumably this Allia put something in place to cover her absence with the Alliance?’ John asked.

‘Lots of the top dogs remain hidden.’ Cam informed them briskly. ‘Since Netan it’s rare for the leadership to get together or for any of the major players to be out in the open.’

‘Which made it doubly hard for them to verify who the spy was.’ John murmured.

‘Does it say where Allia is now?’ Cam asked Rodney.

‘No,’ and there was a silent ‘don’t be stupid’ in that single word uttered by Rodney that even Cam couldn’t miss, ‘and I don’t think I should find out because theoretically I could find out but I don’t think you want me to in case, you know, you actually do get captured by the Lucien Alliance and they torture you for information.’

‘Way to be optimistic, Rodney.’ John said, sending Cam an apologetic look.

‘Please.’ Rodney sniffed. ‘Let’s not kid ourselves here. You do know what this all means, right?’

John waved a hand at the phone. ‘Why don’t you tell us anyway, Rodney?’

‘He doesn’t have to,’ Cam said, ‘he means that the situation with Allia ensures the Alliance is going to try and abduct me at some point during the next ten days.’

‘And the Colonel with the lemon gets the prize.’ Rodney said. ‘Although as that means abduction, torture and-or death, I’m not sure I’d categorize it as a prize really.’

‘Rodney!’ John snapped.

Cam marvelled at McKay’s bluntness, caught between a desire to laugh and a desire to punch him. He rubbed his eyes instead to hide his expression from John. Despite John’s exasperation, Cam knew from the way John talked about McKay, from the way he trusted him absolutely, that their friendship was one forged in steel and John would take Cam’s urge to hit McKay badly. And it wasn’t really McKay’s fault; he was only the messenger.

‘It makes sense why Sam believed it made no difference if we knew.’ Rodney continued on blithely. ‘I mean, it doesn’t change your situation or your options. You already knew they might make an attempt, you just didn’t have a concrete idea why.’

But it changed the risk assessment, Cam thought. Staying on vacation and out in the open was a risky option when the Alliance threat had been a maybe; now it was upgraded to almost-certain-to-happen, it was riskier – and he had John to think about.

He raised his gaze and found John looking right back at him as though he had heard every thought that had just gone through Cam’s head. Cam fought the blush but he felt the heat of it as it worked its way across his face anyway.

‘Is there anything else, Rodney?’ John asked, without taking his eyes off Cam.

‘No, that’s everything I managed to find.’ Rodney stated. ‘And I think I really need to sleep now.’

‘So go get some sleep.’ John ordered. ‘And, Rodney – thanks.’ He punched the disconnect button with a finger before McKay could reply. He pointed the same finger at Cam. ‘You have that look.’

‘What look?’ Cam asked, sliding back to settle fully into the depths of the chair. He crossed his arms over his t-shirt and tried not to feel defensive.

‘The one that says you think you should be sensible.’ John answered back smartly.

Cam appreciated what John was trying to do but he couldn’t let him. He’d been a Colonel for longer than John; he let his face fall into his military mask; responsibility and formality. ‘Sheppard,’ he said tightly, military inflection perfect given the way John’s face went blank in automatic response, ‘there are times when sensible is the way to go.’

John narrowed his eyes and Cam saw for a brief second the swell of rebellion that he assumed most of John’s COs had come up against at some point. But there was a minute shift in John’s gaze – possibly, Cam thought, when John remembered Cam wasn’t his CO and that it wasn’t a mission.

And suddenly Cam was the one feeling like a raw recruit under the glare of a senior officer. He’d forgotten, Cam mused ruefully that even though he’d officially held the rank for longer, John had effectively performed at the rank of Colonel by commanding an off-world base in hostile territory for years. He felt far too exposed under the intense glare but he held still and waited, because Cam wasn’t John’s CO, but John wasn’t Cam’s either.

A tiny quirk of John’s lips was the only sign that John was aware of the silent power struggle. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward.

‘Let’s say you’re right, we fly to the nearest military base and you go into protective custody,’ John said so reasonably that Cam was almost fooled into thinking John might not be annoyed with him, ‘what do you think happens next?’

Cam tried to follow his logic but couldn’t. ‘I’m not sure…’

‘You think the Alliance is going to say, ‘gee, too bad; we can’t get to him; oh well, might as well go home’?’ John was openly mocking him.

Cam’s own anger stirred. ‘If I’m out of the picture…’

‘They’ll try and draw you out anyway. And, oh, I wonder; what’s the best way they could do that?’ John’s comment had the precision of a surgical strike.

The Alliance would target his family or Amy. Cam’s blood ran cold with the thought.

Cam lurched to his feet and stalked away to the window. He stared out at the vista of stables and barns; people going about the every-day business of the ranch. He pushed his hands into his jeans’ pockets because he was angry enough to hit something – someone – and it wasn’t John’s fault any more than it was McKay’s.

He felt irrationally angry at Sam for not telling him even though she was under orders from Landry because he thought he might have taken what McKay and John had told him better if she’d been the one to say it. She’d already thought it through and worked it out, Cam thought angrily. She already knew Cam needed to stay on leave and let the Alliance make their move.

And he was furiously angry at Landry regardless of how much he admired the man and had always gotten along with him. Some spark of reason reminded him that Landry had his reasons. Leaving Cam completely out of the deal with Allia probably became a necessity when the detail that Cam had been the first contact had leaked out. Landry hadn’t known about the plot to kidnap and torture Cam to get to Allia; that had only come out with the Alliance’s failed attempt to force John and Cam off-grid and make them vulnerable.

And as much as Cam wanted to rail at Landry for deciding not to tell Cam the whole truth on why the Alliance wanted to kidnap him, he knew Landry knew him, his strengths and his flaws, and Landry knew what path Cam would likely go racing down. He remembered his first ever discussion with Landry.

‘Nobody’s perfect. Everyone has some sort of character flaw. What’s yours?’

‘Sometimes I can be impatient, sir.’

Cam could feel the impatience bubbling up along with the more dangerous character flaw that came with it; recklessness, the urge to rush in where angels feared to tread, without any kind of plan beyond the need to do something.

A half-formed idea took shape in his head; he could leave John, head out on his own and…

‘I’m thinking that look can’t be good.’ John commented dryly.

Cam looked over his shoulder and realised John had seen his reflection in the glass. He sighed. ‘John, it’s not that I don’t appreciate all you’ve done but…’

John jumped to his feet and pointed a finger at him. ‘Tell me you aren’t seriously thinking of going off on your own as bait to tempt the Lucien Alliance out in the open.’

‘OK,’ Cam said agreeably, muscles tensing ready for the fight because he wanted it badly enough that he was looking forward to it, ‘I won’t tell you!’

‘Mitchell…’

‘You signed up for leave, Sheppard.’ Cam cut in, letting his anger bleeding through. ‘And I told you in Panama City, I didn’t ask you along to play bodyguard. This isn’t your problem.’

‘Not my…’ John repeated furiously. ‘Not my problem?’ He took a step toward Cam. ‘My entire team is involved here, Mitchell.’ Another step. ‘McKay risked his career to get that information from Landry’s files. Teyla is at your parents and Ronon is stuck outside of your ex-fiancée’s house! And now you say it’s not my problem?’ By the time, John was finished, he was almost in Cam’s personal space, with his hand raised and finger still pointing.

Cam took his hands out of his pockets and glared. He chose his words carefully, knowing he needed to get John angrier if he was to make sure John didn’t follow. ‘I said this isn’t your problem and I don’t need your help. This isn’t a mission and I’m not some CO who’s been stuck with you.’

John wasn’t quick enough at smoothing his expression to hide the flinch but he didn’t back down. ‘You think I don’t know what you’re doing?’

‘I don’t care what you think.’ Cam snapped out. ‘I’m done here.’

He brushed John’s hand aside and stepped around him.

John placed a hand on his shoulder and Cam whirled, striking out. His punch landed solidly on John’s jaw and sent him to the ground. Cam froze for a split second in shock that he’d actually hit John, but then Cam was moving; striding out of the room through the corridor to the stairs.

His heart pounded uncomfortably fast as he made his way up, a sharp pain twinged in his leg with every step. He stormed into the guest room he was using; the wide double bed was made with its corners squared away the way he had been trained. There were a few clothes thrown onto a nearby chair and he grabbed them. He pushed them haphazardly into the duffel bag. He gathered up his shaving kit from the en-suite shower room and checked around to make sure that he hadn’t forgotten anything else.

He was half-way to the door when it occurred to him he was in the middle of nowhere; that they’d arrived by plane and he had a sinking feeling John wasn’t going to lend him a car. He pulled out his cell phone. There was an app that Vala had loaded that would find him the nearest taxi in most cities but it took less than a minute to work out that the small town of Clancyville wasn’t included. He shoved the cell phone back in his pocket and thought with his luck the local taxi driver was probably one of the men he’d put in the hospital the night before anyway.

Cam threw his duffle on the bed, put his hands on his hips and closed his eyes. He tried to think of another way off the ranch; maybe he could call the Sheriff, maybe he could call Sam…only Sam had never approved of Cam doing any of his solo runs before and this time was unlikely to be any different. He pushed a hand through his hair, rubbing the short dark strands furiously in frustration.

‘So…’

Cam’s head swivelled round to the doorway where John lounged up against the wooden frame, legs crossed at his booted ankles, arms folded across the grey t-shirt he wore and a smirk on his face. Cam’s eyes slid over the darkening bruise on John’s jaw, partly obscured by the perpetual six o’clock shadow that John sported. Cam looked away on a flush of guilt; the anger draining away and leaving him tired and aching.

‘I’m guessing you’ve realised you don’t have a mode of transport out of here by now.’ John said casually. ‘Although if you’re thinking of hotwiring Maggie I’m prepared to be really pissed off with you instead of just mildly pissed off at you.’

‘I was thinking of hotwiring a car.’ Cam shot back without looking at him but there was no heat to the words. He turned around and sank down to sit on the end of the bed.

John padded across and sat down next to him; close enough but not too close to get punched again. ‘I’m beginning to appreciate why Landry didn’t want us in the loop.’

Cam looked over at him.

‘Well, let’s face it; he obviously knew…,’ John waved a hand at him to encompass Cam’s behaviour in the last fifteen minutes, ‘and I’m not exactly the poster boy for following orders.’

Cam grimaced. ‘I can’t sit here and do nothing.’

‘I get it.’ John replied. ‘I do. In your place, I wouldn’t be happy waiting for the Alliance to show up. I’d want to rush off and provoke them into showing their hand too.’

‘But?’

‘But Rodney would rant at me for being an idiot,’ John said matter-of-factly, ‘and then we’d come up with a plan.’

‘Did you just call me an idiot?’ Cam wondered out loud.

‘Well, if the shoe fits…’ John teased him lightly enough that Cam knew he’d been forgiven for throwing the punch. He held Cam’s gaze for a moment. ‘The important thing which you missed is that we come up with a plan.’

Cam looked at him, bemused.

‘You want to go after the Lucien Alliance and take out the guys they’ve sent after you before they get you? I don’t have a problem with that.’ John said exasperatedly. ‘I have a problem with you going off alone half-assed and getting killed.’ He paused. ‘I’d feel responsible.’

It was jokey enough that Cam believed he was supposed to take it as light-hearted mockery but the way John dropped his gaze to the polished oak floor suggested there was an element of truth in his words. John would feel responsible if Cam went off alone and got himself killed.

Cam sighed. ‘A plan’s not a bad idea.’ He allowed. ‘We could probably do with one of those.’ He watched as John’s shoulders dropped an inch in relief at the pronoun Cam used.

‘You know what else we could probably do with?’ John asked, looking back at him again, chameleon eyes alight with amusement.

He had no idea. ‘I’m sure you’re about to tell me.’

‘Our teams.’ John said simply.

It surprised Cam that he hadn’t said an automatic ‘no’ and he was sure John expected that was what Cam would say after the whole discussion on whether Ronon and Teal’c should join them. Cam hadn’t thought about his urge to get away from the team since then. In the quiet moments of flight, in between the story-telling and debates on movies, sports and aircraft, Cam had been thinking about his relationship with Amy; about what might have been. He was sure the base shrink Mackenzie had terms to describe the process; grieving, reflection, letting go.

But he hadn’t thought about his team and his unwillingness to talk to them since he’d considered the question after his Replicator nightmare. It was as though realising on some level that his unwillingness had something to do with knowing things would change if he did had settled something in Cam. Maybe he still didn’t know what would change or why it would change, what specifically was the issue, but he knew that it didn’t matter in the here and now.

Right now was about finding the Lucien Alliance guys before they found Cam; before they got a chance to hurt his family and Amy. That was all that mattered and John was right; they would do better if they had the rest of their teams lined up beside them.

Cam pressed a thumb deep into the palm of his other hand and looked at John. ‘We should call Sam.’

John’s lips curved into a laconic smile. ‘You have something in mind?’

Cam smiled back, somewhat sheepishly as he knew his answer was going to be a concession; an agreement to do things John’s way. ‘We’re going to need her to OK getting our teams all in one place.’

John reached across the expanse of bed and patted his shoulder. ‘Sounds like a plan to me.’

Chapter 13

Rodney slapped his alarm off with a muted groan. He was tempted to close his eyes but his brain was already zooming into active mode; lists of the things he needed to deal with clamouring for attention, from city repairs to his on-going research to his relationship with Jennifer to wondering how Teyla and Ronon were finding their Earth based assignments to his worry for John.

It was the latter that occupied Rodney’s mind as he stumbled through his morning routine. He was uncertain whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that in the directory of his mind, the folder that was named ‘Worry for John’ was categorised into numerous subdirectories, some of which had their own subdirectories.

Rodney shivered despite the heat of the shower spray when he considered how close they had come to losing John to another suicide run with a bomb; how close they had come to sacrificing all their lives for that matter.

He shook off the memory and focused on the first of his Worry for John folders that required attention; the one that was named ‘Is he happy?’ Rodney wasn’t certain when he had started to worry about other people’s happiness but he had and there was a large part of Rodney that never wanted John or Teyla, Torren or Ronon for that matter to be unhappy in any way. And yet Rodney suspected John wasn’t happy and Rodney had the instinctive need to fix it.

Rodney’s mouth turned into a downward crooked slant at the thought. He was the first to admit that he wasn’t the most perceptive person ever where people were concerned and he was prepared to admit that the idea of John’s unhappiness was something that had slowly crept up on him. Maybe it had first occurred to him after the incident with the Sekkari; John had been quiet for days afterwards. It had only been when they’d arrived on Earth though that Rodney had realised John hadn’t been back voluntarily since his father had died, (and seriously, he wasn’t even sure that John’s attendance at the funeral had exactly met the definition of voluntary meaning willing), and oh yes: John’s father had died. Rodney had called himself a moron that day for not seeing the obvious – that John was grieving, had been grieving for months.

But as much as he blamed himself for not seeing it, Rodney blamed John because his friend had advanced skills in emotional evasion. When John had returned from the funeral, he had grabbed Rodney and taken him to the end of the pier with some beer. Half-way through the alcohol, Rodney had made an awkward attempt to ask how John was dealing with everything, and John had replied that he didn’t think it had sunk in properly. There had been no other conversation about it, not in any of times they’d gotten together to play chess or computer golf or race their cars or watch a movie; nothing. Was it any wonder Rodney had assumed that John was fine? OK, so maybe he could have asked but there had been life to deal with; saving Atlantis, saving each other. At least he finally knew – or at least he thought he finally knew that John was grieving and unhappy.

Which was bad.

And Rodney didn’t think John’s unhappiness was just grief. He’d been struck by the thought that John might be lonely too. That had happened at lunch the day after they had arrived on Earth. Teyla had already been sat with Kanaan and Torren when Rodney and John had sat down; Ronon had turned up with Amelia a moment later, and then Jennifer had snagged the last chair. It had taken until dessert before Rodney had realised that everyone but John had a significant other sitting at the table, and he’d only noticed then because they’d been talking about movie night and Teyla had suggested John invite someone. John had brushed off the suggestion quickly, had smiled and joked, but…but Rodney had struck by the idea that John might be lonely with everyone else being with someone.

It wasn’t a question of time spent with people. Rodney had gone back through in his own mind over the last few months for data and, while he didn’t had enough data for Ronon and Amelia (but he couldn’t believe the Satedan would blow John off for his girlfriend), he had determined that neither Teyla’s relationship with Kanaan nor his own relationship with Jennifer had significantly impacted the time John spent with them. Yes, maybe at the beginning, when Rodney had been building up to actually asking Jennifer out, Rodney had broken a few loose arrangements with John, but nothing since they’d actually gotten together; Rodney was sure of that. And so Rodney was assured that John wasn’t lacking companionship per se.

But Rodney had been in John’s position himself before; the lone singleton in a clutch of couples. He’d always found it mortifying to be the one without the date; the one who didn’t have Valentine’s plans; the one who was left behind at the table when the others went off to dance – not that he would want to dance even if he had a date but that wasn’t the point. John seemed relatively relaxed about that kind of thing but then Rodney thought it was unlikely that John had ever had to worry about anyone looking at him and assuming that John was alone out of anything other than choice. However, Rodney couldn’t help thinking about how it felt to be the odd one out; that sense of being on the outside of a club, watching others enviously.

Of course, Rodney didn’t want to presume that the solution was finding John a romantic partner. He hoped to God he never became one of those types of friends who match-made and believed everyone should be in a pair. John was more than capable of finding himself someone if he wanted a romantic partner although Rodney couldn’t remember John ever pursuing anyone seriously except for Chaya, and Rodney was somewhat prepared to accept that his memories there may have been clouded by his distrust of the Ascended being; that John hadn’t been pursuing Chaya as a woman so much as a potential ally, who additionally John had no objection to kissing, sharing glowy sex with, whatever.

Which was not the point.

The point, Rodney thought getting himself back on track as he stepped out of the shower and reached for the thick towels he liked, was that having observed John’s unhappiness and determined a romantic partner was not a solution, the question remained: what was the solution?

Rodney had spent a great deal of time floundering around for one, most of it in the midst of the really, really boring IOA meetings they’d been forced to attend. Unfortunately, people weren’t Ancient tech and they weren’t logical, and identification of Cause A did not necessarily mean Fix B would solve it. He had only gotten as far as ‘Talk to Teyla’ in all of his solution planning when John had seemingly come up with the solution himself.

Rodney lined up his shaving equipment and began to shave efficiently; methodically. Rodney was prepared to admit that he would never have come up with the solution of a two week flying trip across the States. But when John had explained how he thought it would help Mitchell, Rodney had instinctively known it would help John too.

John’s first love was flying and Rodney had even had half-formed thoughts about puddle jumpers in his own solution thinking, but Rodney admitted he probably wouldn’t have chosen Mitchell as John’s companion. It wasn’t that Mitchell had threatened Rodney with a fake lemon but more that Mitchell was the poster boy for the Air Force; all American good looks, boyish charm and flyboy cockiness. Sure, Rodney had believed the same of John initially, but only for about as long as it had taken Rodney to get to a computer and track down John’s personnel record with its glaring black mark and Siberian-esque punishment of banishment to Antarctica. But Mitchell’s record was pristine; flawless. Rodney had worried that Mitchell wouldn’t get John; wouldn’t get that John needed the trip as much as evidently Mitchell appeared to.

That worry had been alleviated, Rodney determined. John had let enough slip in their daily check-ins to reveal John and Mitchell had a good many interests in common and got along great – and Rodney wasn’t jealous; he wasn’t. Plus John had let enough slip about the story-telling competition to reveal it was Mitchell’s idea and Rodney’s opinion of Mitchell had risen because it was really an ingenious way of getting John to share without John feeling like he’d been made to share. Rodney hoped he was doing his part by encouraging John to tell the stories he knew John usually never talked about, and if those stories happened to be more likely to win the competition, well, Rodney couldn’t help that.

Rodney swiped at a stray smear of shaving cream, smoothed a hand over his jaw and decided that it was good enough. He wandered back into the bedroom to begin dressing.

The daily check-ins had been a surprise. The last time they’d been stuck on Earth Rodney had called John almost every time; John had called him once. Rodney wasn’t ashamed to say he liked the turnaround; liked the fact that John was calling him. The obvious benefit was that Rodney could track the progress of the solution through the calls very effectively. And so far, despite the complication of the Lucien Alliance, he could see the trip was working.

On one level, there was the important fact that John sounded more relaxed; happier. On another, John was clearly beginning to deal with some of the messy emotional stuff that his father’s death must have stirred up; his outburst that his Dad was an asshole was a big enough clue that even Rodney couldn’t miss it. Rodney would keep his promise; as soon as John got back to the city, they would head down to the end of the pier, swap Dad stories and get horrendously drunk.

So, the ‘Is John happy?’ worry was easing a little. Rodney was reasonably confident that John was, if not OK, on the path to being OK. He could even maybe consign it a lesser priority in his worry list. Rodney adjusted the cuffs on his uniform, picked up his datapad and left for breakfast.

Of course, if there was only one Worry for John category to be handled, it would be a very strange day. Rodney logged on as he walked; his mind assimilating the new data on the city repairs, power usage and a hundred other technical details even as part of him considered the second item on his worry list: the Lucien Alliance’s plan to kidnap Mitchell which would no doubt lead to John getting hurt in some way trying to protect Mitchell.

To distract himself, Rodney fired off a quick ‘hello, hope you’re OK’ email to Jennifer; it occurred to him that he should call her. He spotted something in the data feed from the power grid and tapped his earpiece. ‘Radek, have you seen…’

‘Yes, yes,’ Radek replied, ‘am already on my way to the ZPM room.’

‘You’ll need to…’

‘Yes, and you will need…’

‘Already done.’ Rodney completed sending the instruction to shut down some non-essential systems as he entered the mess. ‘Call me when you’ve pinpointed the problem.’

Radek mumbled something back to him in Czech.

Rodney joined the serving line, datapad still in hand and pointed at the pancakes. Sergeant Baley slid a plate onto his tray and she added another pancake with a wink. Rodney absently thanked her, added syrup and coffee – three cups of it – to his tray. He scanned the mess and found no-one he wanted to particularly eat with; depressingly most of his regular table-mates were away from Atlantis. He went to the team’s usual table and tried hard not to feel abandoned.

He thought back through the information he’d uncovered about Landry’s secret spy deal as he began to eat. He couldn’t help thinking that he had missed something. He put it down to lack of sleep. It had been late when he’d finally cracked through the layers of security around General Landry’s files. He actually hadn’t ever considered that Landry was capable of making secret deals with the Lucien Alliance. Jack O’Neill; yes. Landry; not so much.

Truthfully every time Rodney interacted with Landry, he came away desperately wanting Hammond back, despite the fact that Hammond had sent him to Siberia. Thinking back to his first face to face encounter with SG1, Rodney sometimes wondered that he wasn’t shot for his albeit unwitting part in Colonel Simmons’ plan which had almost killed Teal’c. Now, he could barely think of it without cringing, knowing how he felt when someone gave him an arbitrary deadline to save Teyla or Ronon or John or anyone for that matter.

He shook off the memory and dove into the pancakes, all the while keeping his gaze affixed to the datapad and trying to project an aura of ‘busy, busy’ to account for his eating alone. When a tray was placed across the table, Rodney looked up disconcerted.

Daniel smiled at him as he took his seat. ‘Rodney.’

‘Daniel.’ Rodney darted a look around the mess and wondered why Daniel was sitting with him. He returned his gaze to Daniel to find SG1’s archaeologist staring back at him quizzically.

‘Oh, were you expecting someone?’ Daniel pointed at his seat.

Rodney sighed. ‘No.’ Daniel cast him another bemused look and Rodney decided he needed a diversion. Rodney gestured with his cutlery. ‘How’s your research coming along?’

‘Good.’ Daniel drenched his pancakes in maple syrup and took a bite. ‘It’s nice to have the time to focus on it.’

‘Ah, time.’ Rodney said dreamily. ‘I remember when I had that.’ He sighed and tapped on the datapad, picking up his second cup of coffee to take an appreciative sip.

‘I’m pretty sure Janus had a time dilation bubble set up in the lab.’ Daniel said.

Rodney choked on his coffee. He glared at Daniel before his mind began sparking at the idea. ‘Really? Because that would be really handy in emergencies.’

‘I know.’ Daniel nodded and popped another slice of soggy pancake in his mouth – and seriously, Rodney was a fan of maple syrup, big fan being Canadian and all, but that much syrup wasn’t healthy or sane.

‘During the first siege with the Wraith, a time dilation device would have been a godsend.’ Rodney thought out loud.

‘You would have had more time to figure out plans and get solutions into place.’ Daniel nodded again.

‘No, actually, I was thinking more of using it for sleeping and eating.’ Rodney shot back, annoyed. ‘Of course I meant for the planning, not to mention the fixing nuclear bombs and trying to get the crappy generators to work and…’ his voice trailed away at Daniel’s amused expression. ‘What?’

‘I could send you the file.’ Daniel offered instead of answering the question.

Rodney would like to say no but, hello – time dilation! He nodded curtly instead and focused again on his breakfast.

‘How long before you guys head back to Pegasus?’ Daniel asked, swiping his pancake through a puddle of syrup.

Rodney sighed. ‘Another six weeks if we’re incredibly lucky and the repairs go as planned. Eight or more if we run into issues.’ He had a sudden and horrible thought. ‘So, are you coming back with us this time?’

Daniel’s obsession about Atlantis was legendary in the Stargate programme. Rodney didn’t blame him; Atlantis was incredible. And Rodney grudgingly allowed that Daniel somewhat, might, deserve to be part of the expedition; Daniel had been the one to discover the existence of Atlantis and to work out the address. But Rodney also knew that Daniel had an unerring ability to find new enemies, so all things considered he’d prefer Daniel to stay well away from Atlantis.

Daniel’s eyebrows shot up above the rim of his glasses. ‘Uh, no. I don’t think so actually.’

‘No?’ Rodney pursed his lips in disbelief.

Daniel lifted a hand and made a sweeping gesture around the room. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think Atlantis is great and I love being here now but…’

‘But?’ Rodney pressed bluntly, genuinely bemused.

Daniel winced; a twist of lips and lowered eyes that gave away that it was an uncomfortable subject. Tough luck, Rodney thought and motioned impatiently with his knife.

‘It’s…things have moved on.’ Daniel set his fork down and picked up his coffee.

‘Well, that’s nicely vague and unclear.’ Rodney said caustically.

Daniel cocked his head and looked over his mug at Rodney. ‘Uh, did I miss the memo where we’ve suddenly became best friends who tell each other everything?’

Rodney rolled his eyes at that. ‘Please, it’s not like I’m asking for your deepest, darkest secrets.’ Although given the squirmy look that passed across Daniel’s face, maybe he was.

‘I’m happy where I am.’ Daniel finally said. He rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward. ‘I mean, I know I made a big deal about coming to Atlantis…’

‘No, really?’ Rodney felt compelled to mock him. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

Daniel shot him a look.

Rodney made a circular motion with one hand for Daniel to continue.

‘You know I wanted to come with the expedition that first year, right?’ Daniel asked.

Rodney nodded with an exasperated frown because it was all Daniel had talked about in Antarctica after he’d uncovered the address. ‘Only O’Neill wouldn’t let you.’ He said, smirking. ‘You were too valuable to risk on a one way trip.’ He paused. ‘Unlike the rest of us.’ Not that he was bitter or anything.

‘Hey, I was just as expendable when I took the first trip through the Stargate in our own galaxy.’ Daniel pointed out with a smile.

Rodney was somewhat mollified by that. If Daniel had become invaluable by the time the Stargate programme had found Atlantis, Rodney liked to think that he too would be considered invaluable after his years of service.

‘Anyway,’ Daniel continued, ‘you know the rest of how I managed not to get here what with Vala and the Ori, and the subsequent…’

‘Intergalactic war with alien superbeings.’ Rodney completed. His hand made a hurry-up-and-get-to-the-point motion.

‘And after we got rid of the Ori, I was generally too pissed off at the Ancients and Ascended beings…’

And Rodney understood that all too well because the Ancients had been arrogant and left far too many mistakes behind them and Ascended beings had far too many crazy rules.

‘And by the time I wasn’t pissed off, Sam was here, I mean on Atlantis.’ Daniel gave a small shrug. ‘Some of us had to stay behind and look after…things.’

Things meaning people, Rodney surmised with a surprising bolt of insight; the people Sam had left behind like her significant other who happened to be Daniel Jackson’s best friend, and possibly the young woman Sam had mentioned occasionally; Carrie, Callie, someone?

‘So, I spend another year on SG1 and then Sam came home,’ Daniel said, ‘and I think, great; now I can go visit Atlantis.’ He leaned back, waggling his eyebrows. ‘We both know how that went.’

‘Yes. Right.’ Rodney subsided guiltily in his own chair even though it wasn’t his fault that Daniel had gotten kidnapped and struck with an energy bolt. OK, maybe the energy bolt was a little his fault, but really not all his fault. ‘It isn’t always like that.’ He said defensively before honesty had him shaking his head and flapping his hand. ‘Well, OK, yes, there’s imminent death and the weird strange aliens and being kidnapped and tortured on a regular basis but you have to be used to that in this galaxy too.’

It occurred to Rodney to ask himself what the hell he was doing reassuring the guy because he really, really didn’t want Daniel Jackson on Atlantis. Daniel was a Trouble Magnet and John was already enough for Rodney in that regard.

Even Daniel was staring at him wide-eyed across the table but he smiled suddenly. ‘Yeah, I’m used to that here.’ His smile widened. ‘With my team around as back-up.’

‘Oh.’ And just like that, Rodney got it.

‘As much as I appreciated that we got rescued, and don’t get me wrong, I think both of us knew there was the prospect that someone would rescue us because there’s your team and I’ve read pretty much every mission report you guys have filed,’ Daniel said dryly, ‘but honestly I didn’t actually feel rescued until I woke up back in the SGC infirmary.’ He waved a hand. ‘Mitchell’s sat beside me telling me how Teal’c and Vala are going to be pissed that I woke up on his shift and then Sam and Jack showed up and told me that I was never visiting Atlantis again unless SG1 went with me.’ He shrugged. ‘And I nodded and thought that actually I was OK with that idea.’

‘Huh.’ Rodney said.

‘I know.’ Daniel commented. ‘Surprised me too but there it is.’ He set his coffee mug down. ‘So…I’m happy where I am.’

‘Huh.’ Rodney said again. ‘That’s…’ he tried to think of the right word.

‘Huh?’ Daniel quipped lightly.

Rodney glared at him. ‘Reassuring. I was going to say reassuring.’ He frowned at the delight on Daniel’s face and rolled his eyes. ‘In an ‘I’m glad SG1 is around to save the planet because I’m in another galaxy and can’t do it myself’ kind of way.’

‘Right.’ Daniel said dryly.

‘No, seriously,’ Rodney pushed his plate away and reached for his third coffee, wondering absently how he’d managed to drink the second without noticing, ‘after all you guys did all go your separate ways at one point.’

Daniel looked perturbed at that.

‘Why wouldn’t we think you’d want to go off and do your own thing again once, you know, you dealt with the intergalactic alien superbeings?’ Rodney warmed to his theme. ‘Sam left. She came to Atlantis. So, you know, it wasn’t outside of the realms of possibility that you’d pursue your research, and Teal’c would head back to the Jaffa, and Vala would go back to doing whatever it was she was doing before you and she…’ he stopped abruptly at Daniel’s annoyed face. ‘There’s probably some kind of book on it.’

‘Me and Vala?’ Daniel looked horrified.

‘No,’ Rodney snapped, ‘you leaving SG1 to head here – Atlantis, although,’ he gestured awkwardly, ‘probably about the other, uh, thing too.’

‘Oh.’ Daniel blinked rapidly. ‘Yes.’ He said faintly. ‘You’re probably right.’

There was a pregnant silence.

‘I guess Mitchell was pleased with you staying given all the work he put into getting you guys back on SG1.’ Rodney burbled out. He inwardly cursed his immediate need to fill the silence and swallowed a huge mouthful of coffee to stop himself from talking. He almost choked. When he finished spluttering he realised Daniel had a pole-axed expression on his face. ‘Huh?’

‘Nothing.’ Daniel said, shaking himself briskly. ‘Just a…random thought.’

‘About?’ Rodney said before he realised from Daniel’s appalled face that it was an answer he was supposed to ignore. ‘Don’t worry, you don’t need to tell me!’ He rushed out and wafted a hand in the direction of his head. ‘Ignore me; lack of sleep.’

‘The repairs?’ Daniel said sympathetically, grabbing onto the change of subject and running with it like the first contact specialist he was.

‘No,’ Rodney said on a rush of relief, ‘I was talking to John and Mitchell about why the Lucien Alliance was only going to be after them for these two weeks.’ And oops, because he hadn’t meant to tell anyone about that.

Daniel sat up expectantly. ‘And?’

Rodney refused to consider the shift of position he made squirming. It wasn’t squirming; it was finding a more comfortable position for his back.

Daniel’s lips twitched and he reached for his coffee again. ‘If it makes you feel better, I’m probably going to get Jack to crack and tell me everything later today.’

The nagging sense that he was still missing something about the information he’d uncovered, the knowledge that Daniel probably had a mental folder labelled ‘Worry for Mitchell,’ and a perverse need to share what he’d learned skated around Rodney’s brain for a long moment before Rodney gave in. He looked around to check nobody was sitting within earshot – wasn’t too surprised to find everyone was giving them a very wide berth, and told Daniel everything.

All of it came out; the initial mission where Mitchell made contact with Allia – which unsurprisingly Daniel remembered, Landry’s deal, the way the details leaked out to the Lucien Alliance, the fact that Allia was on Earth for the next couple of weeks, the inevitable conclusion that someone would try and abduct Mitchell and John. Rodney was out of breath by the time he stumbled to a halt.

Daniel blinked at him, but Rodney knew there was more going on Daniel’s brain than simple processing of what Rodney had told him. Daniel was already making intuitive leaps forward. ‘OK, so I get why Sam, Jack and Landry considered that knowing the two week deal wasn’t going to change things.’

‘Right, because as long as Mitchell and John choose to stay on leave and in the open, the Lucien Alliance will make a grab for them.’ Rodney said. ‘They already knew that they might and they can request a beam-out any time.’

‘And of course they’ll choose to stay on leave now even knowing that it’s a certainty that the Alliance will try something because if they come in, Mitchell’s family and ex-fiancée are the next likely targets to draw Mitchell back out into the open.’ Daniel added.

Rodney wasn’t going to admit that he hadn’t thought of that.

‘Oh God.’ Daniel said suddenly.

And Rodney knew that wasn’t a good ‘Oh God’ by the half-panicked look on Daniel’s face. ‘What?’

Daniel looked torn between telling him and leaving. Eventually, Daniel wet his lips and waved his hand. ‘Mitchell’s never going to wait for the Lucien Alliance to do something. He gets impatient and…’

‘Oh God.’ Rodney said. Because Mitchell was going to get John killed.

‘Don’t worry,’ Daniel muttered, as though he’d read Rodney’s mind, ‘he’ll try dumping Sheppard to protect him and go running off on his own and…’ his eyes widened again, ‘I have to go find him.’

‘Wait!’ Rodney grabbed at Daniel’s arm and tugged him back into the chair with one hand; the other was already reaching for his earpiece. ‘McKay to Sheppard.’

There was a heart-stopping moment when there was nothing but static and then –

‘Rodney, I’m in the middle of flying.’ John whined.

Daniel made hurry-up motions with his hands and Rodney made an abortive attempt to slap them away.

‘Is Mitchell with you?’ Rodney asked urgently.

‘Yes. Why has something gone wrong with the sensors?’ John asked, concern radiating through despite the long-distance connection that was being bounced off the Odyssey’s communications array.

‘No, no,’ Rodney signalled to Daniel that everything was fine and watched as Daniel gave a huge sigh of relief and subsided into his chair running a hand through his short dark hair and removing his glasses to rub at his eyes, ‘I was talking with Daniel about…things, and he, uh…was concerned about Mitchell going off alone to do something.’

There was another silence.

‘Oh my God, you’ve both totally come up with some idiotic way of getting the two of you killed, haven’t you?’ Rodney felt the urge to knock his head against the nearest wall.

Daniel looked alarmed again.

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence there, buddy.’ John drawled out sarcastically. ‘Actually, we thought we’d do this the right way.’

‘So…’ Rodney held up a hand to stop Daniel interrupting him.

‘So, we’ve already talked with Sam about having a team reunion,’ John said gleefully, ‘you and Jackson should be getting a call from her any minute.’

Team reunion.

Sam.

Translation: they’d been given the go ahead for an official pre-emptive strike.

‘You mean…’

‘That’s right,’ John said, ‘I’ll see you in Kansas, Rodney.’ He signed off and Rodney slumped back in his seat.

Daniel gestured at him impatiently. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Apparently, Sam’s going to call us,’ Rodney sighed, ‘we’re going to Kansas.’

And Daniel, damn him, smiled. There really weren’t enough mental folders in the world, Rodney thought morosely.

Chapter 14

John looked around the breakfast table and thought the whole thing was surreal.

They were in Kansas, which called to mind all kinds of inappropriate jokes both Oz and Superman related, and sat outside of the Mitchells’ farm house at the picnic table. The morning sun was shining brightly; there was a nice breeze tugging listlessly on their clothing and lightly ruffling hair-dos. Both the flagship teams of the SGC and Atlantis crowded each other either side of the table, elbows prodding into each other as they wrestled for space. They laughed and joked for the most part, like it really was some kind of weird reunion party and not the start of them trying to work out a way to get to the Lucien Alliance before they got to Mitchell.

John had Rodney on his left and Teal’c on his right with Vala at the end. Across the table, Mitchell was between Teyla and Daniel with Ronon opposite Vala. Mitchell’s parents had taken either end; his father, Frank, presided over the table with Wendy, Mitchell’s Mom stayed closest to the house where she could dip in and out to bring them more food or drink.

John’s eyes scanned the immediate vicinity; they checked out the wide blue sky with its fluffy white clouds. His eyes connected with Mitchell’s across the table and Mitchell nodded in agreement with him; they were clear. There were no Lucien Alliance guys hiding in the bushes; nothing on the radar.

John tried to shrug away the feeling of being disconnected and focused on his food. It had been a crazy twenty-four hours getting the gang together. John was pleased that they were all finally in the same time-zone. John and Mitchell had met Ronon and Teal’c in Kansas City at the Sheppard airfield there. Dave’s assistant had arranged a mini-van which had been a good call. They’d picked up Rodney and Daniel who’d flown in from San Francisco. Mitchell had driven them to his parents. They’d arrived late and had barely been any time for introductions and to hug Teyla hello before Wendy had noted how tired they all looked and they’d all been bundled off to bed like recalcitrant children. John, Ronon and Rodney were bedded down in Frank’s study; the guys of SG1 in the den, with Vala and Teyla sharing Mitchell’s old room. It was cosy.

It was only for the next day or so, John tells himself. The Alliance buying that they were all having a mid-vacation get together over the weekend was one thing; all of them staying together beyond that would generate suspicion. Sam had pointed that out to them.

She had been fairly open to the idea of a pre-emptive strike when Mitchell and John had called her. They had carefully left out that they knew everything and just focused on making the case for doing something, although John thought Sam knew that Rodney had hacked the files. Sam had made some good points; they had no idea what the size of the Lucien Alliance team, or who the team was, or where their base of operations was; all they knew for certain was that Mitchell was a target and the Alliance would make a grab for him.

But Sam had come through for them. She’d been the one to take the idea to Landry and O’Neill and secure them the chance to come up with a plan. She’d sent them the latest intelligence; their old friend Stan had back-tracked through the original source material to find out what the Alliance spy Gina Lovell had excised. Sam had been the one to organise replacements for Ronon and Teal’c, and to convince Woolsey to let Rodney have the weekend away from repairs.

John watched as Mitchell’s Dad reached for his crutches and hoisted himself to his feet. Mitchell had explained about his Dad’s loss of legs in a crashed test flight; about how his father had worked so hard to walk again so John had a lot of admiration for Frank right off the bat. But it was more than that; John could see why Mitchell idolised his father. Frank Mitchell was a great Dad and his gaze often rested proudly on Mitchell; lovingly. He was the type of Dad John had yearned for; the one he didn’t get.

The thought startled him and John lost his appetite abruptly. He pushed his plate with what remained of his waffle toward Rodney and slid back, climbing easily out of the confines of the bench. He took a few empty plates back into the kitchen before he dived into the downstairs’ bathroom. He busied himself with actually using the facilities before he stood for a while in front of the mirror.

John stared into his reflection. He looked like he always did in civilian mode; messy hair, button down shirt, jeans, hiking boots rather than combat. The shadow of his beard was already beginning despite the early hour. He ran a hand over his jaw and winced at the bruise acquired when Mitchell had punched him. There was a familiar, weary look in his eyes.

His thoughts were jumbled but one circled all the others; why couldn’t his father love him like Frank loved Mitchell? What had stopped Patrick Sheppard from loving John unconditionally, to have seen beyond John’s stubbornness about flying and to have loved him anyway? Had it been something about John? Or had it been because John hadn’t saved his mother, Patrick Sheppard’s wife?

The hollow ache in his chest was his only answer.

He left the bathroom before it became clear to everyone that he was hiding. He wandered back into the kitchen and found Frank balanced against the kitchen sink, washing dishes. John immediately headed over to help him, taking a checked towel from a nearby peg.

‘You don’t need to do that.’ Frank said.

John shrugged with one shoulder and continued drying the plate he picked up. ‘I’ve done my share of KP. I think I can handle it.’

Frank laughed. They worked for a while, Frank asking him about the aircraft John had flown until there was a neat stack of plates on the side table and John had swapped out one damp cloth for another.

Rodney wandered through. He looked over at John silently checking that everything was OK and John nodded. Rodney pointed towards the study, telling John without words that he was going to get everything set up and John nodded again. Rodney left and John turned back to find Frank watching him with a warm smile. John fought the urge to blush.

‘You have a good team.’ Frank said.

‘I do.’ John said proudly because his team was pretty great.

‘I should thank you.’ Frank continued.

John looked over at him quizzically. ‘For what?’

Frank gestured with his head towards the window.

John looked out. He saw Ronon and Teyla first; his eyes gravitating towards his own team automatically, checking they were OK. They were off to the side, going through a series of bantos moves, fluid and dynamic, well-practiced.

They were giving a demonstration to SG1, John realised belatedly as he took in Mitchell watching at the side, standing with his head cocked, hands on his hips. Teal’c stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back, an approving look on his heavy features. Mitchell leaned in to say something to the Jaffa and Teal’c inclined his head in agreement before Mitchell said something to Vala and Daniel on his other side, waving at Ronon and Teyla as though explaining something – maybe the similarities between the Sodan training and the Athosian.

‘Looking at him now, I can’t believe a week ago he could hardly bear to be in the same room as them.’ Frank said quietly.

John felt awkward. It wasn’t as though Mitchell had confided anything in him, but there was knowing and knowing and John knew even if he and Mitchell had never talked about it. ‘It’s hard to hide in a team.’

Frank gave a harrumph and eyed John speculatively. ‘He’s better and that’s thanks to you.’

‘He’s working it out himself.’ John said honestly, unwilling to take credit. ‘All I’ve done is…’

‘Be his friend.’ Frank held onto the platter dish he’d just washed when John went to take it. He met John’s eyes pointedly. ‘We appreciate that.’

John had never been good at emotional honesty. He nodded and looked down at his feet. Frank let go of the platter.

John felt the urge to say something ripple over his skin like an all over itch but his throat closed up. He wasn’t sure what to say; what he wanted to say. My Dad died. I miss him. I loved him. I wanted him to be like you and I hate that he wasn’t and that it was probably my fault. And skirting the edges of all of it, the unvarnished truth behind his own need to take off flying for two weeks; I’m so goddamn tired of losing people; of being too late to save them like I was too late to save my Mom.

‘We’re ready.’ Rodney’s voice shattered the silence without warning.

John’s fingers clenched around the platter to avoid dropping it. He glanced over his shoulder. Rodney hovered in the doorway and his chin was up; his blue eyes darting away from John’s guiltily. He’d probably just overheard Frank, John considered, ignoring the frisson of fear that maybe Rodney had heard John’s thoughts too. John hadn’t been kidding Frank; it was hard to hide in a team. Looking at Rodney, John realised his rock-solid belief that the others were too distracted by the other relationships in their lives to notice that John was hiding something wasn’t as rock-solid as it had been ten minutes before.

‘I’ll get the others.’ John set the platter down carefully and Frank divested him of the towel with a smile.

It was a short walk out to gather them. They came in grumbling. John watched surreptitiously as Mitchell checked on his Dad, as his Mom joined them and started fussing. They looked like a family. They looked normal. The lump in John’s throat was painful. He turned away and marched into the study.

Rodney’s cot was set off to the side of the desk with the additional folded blankets and pillows that John and Ronon had used to sleep on the floor stacked on top of it. Rodney had multiple laptops running along with a small wireless router that enabled Rodney to log into the SGC network. There was a stack of folders that Rodney had brought with him; intelligence reports, transcripts, and other data that hopefully would help them work out a plan.

John plonked himself on the wooden chair next to the very comfortable desk chair Rodney had appropriated. Teyla sat cross-legged on the cot and Vala scrambled up to sit next to her. They made an unlikely pair but Teyla’s warm smile as Vala nudged her shoulder said that the two women had bonded. Ronon dropped to the floor to sit, stretching his long legs out; Teal’c took a seat on the two-seater sofa with Daniel beside him. Mitchell wandered in, looked at the available space and sighed heavily. He lowered himself to sit on the floor by Ronon and John thought the wince wasn’t just for show.

Rodney performed the briefing because he’d been the one that had cracked Landry’s files. He weaved the story to date well, his hands cutting in and out of the air as he jumped from one logical point to another. John let his mind drift a little because he’d heard it all before and he was impatient to get to the next step: trying to understand what they didn’t know. His eyes were drawn to the sky beyond the window. It was the first day that they hadn’t been in the air. He already missed it. He looked back and his eyes collided with Mitchell’s; understanding and rueful empathy shone in the blue depths. John offered a small smirk of acknowledgement.

‘…and I think that brings us to our current point which is trying to plan how not to die horribly while capturing the Lucien Alliance team.’ Rodney punctuated the end of his part by sitting down in his chair.

‘Are we sure it is wise to provoke them?’ Teyla asked. ‘Would it not be sensible to wait for them to make their move?’

John avoided looking at Mitchell because Teyla would beat them both with sticks if they laughed. ‘If we wait for them to make their move, we can’t guarantee that we’ll have the advantage.’ He sat forward, assuming a commanding position without thinking about it. ‘What we need is a trap.’

‘With me as bait.’ Mitchell agreed, folding his arms over his chest.

‘If it’s too obvious they won’t fall for it.’ Vala pointed out, blowing a bubble which popped loudly.

‘She’s right.’ Daniel said. ‘Since Netan was taken out, they’ve been remarkably not stupid in their plan to take over the galaxy, and we don’t have a lot to go on.’

‘Which is why we’re here.’ John gestured at Rodney who rolled his eyes at him but obligingly reached for the stack of paper. ‘Assignments; we need to try and figure out as much as we can about the team sent to grab Mitchell. This is all the original intelligence that their spy at the NID managed to keep from us.’

Ronon jumped up and thrusts a thumb towards the door. ‘I’ll keep an eye on the perimeter.’

John would like to say he was surprised but he wasn’t. Ronon hated paperwork, but he’d be there with his gun when he was needed.

Teal’c moved smoothly to his feet. ‘I will assist.’ They were out of the door before anyone could offer a protest.

‘I don’t suppose that excuse would work for me?’ Mitchell asked, looking longingly after them.

‘Nope.’ Daniel threw a report at him. ‘This was your idea.’

‘It was Sheppard’s.’ Mitchell claimed furiously. John didn’t get the chance to be irked because Daniel was already answering.

‘Of course it was.’ Daniel shot back. ‘Yours was to run off alone and get yourself killed.’

Mitchell went an interesting shade of red.

‘They do that.’ Rodney sympathised.

John shot him a look. ‘We’re here, aren’t we?’

Rodney sniffed and handed him a huge stack of paper. ‘Well, maybe you’re not entirely an idiot these days.’

‘Gee, thanks Rodney.’ John said dryly and sighed as he began to skim the text. Somehow he had a feeling he was going to end up knowing more about the Lucien Alliance than he really wanted to know by the end of the day.

Three hours in, they were no closer to knowing anything about anything. Their small pile of useful information had five meagre pieces of paper on it.

John pressed his fingers into his eyes and wondered if he could poke right through to the pain that was throbbing in his head. ‘Has anybody got anything?’

‘Nothing. Nada. Zippo. Zero…’

‘McKay.’ John interrupted him with a sigh.

‘Look, I’m sorry,’ Rodney said, ‘but this spy they had at the NID obviously did a good job of making sure that anything useful never made it into our hands, and what she let through was vague enough to be entirely useless.’

‘I can’t believe I’m going to say this,’ Mitchell said, throwing down the report that he’d been going through, ‘but McKay’s right. This is getting us nowhere.’

‘What do we have?’ John asked because maybe looking at what they had uncovered would improve their morale.

‘One picture of the NID spy,’ Rodney listed briskly, ‘attractive in a very Susan Sarandon kind of way; one vague email confirming five new identities have been constructed; two general communications noting that the plan was proceeding on schedule and one confirmation of plans to buy a warehouse in Paris which was where, uh…’ he waved at Mitchell in lieu of saying where Mitchell had been planning to honeymoon.

‘Maybe we should go back to plan A.’ Mitchell suggested brightly.

‘Intergalactic warfare?’ asked Vala with a cheeky smile aimed at John.

Mitchell’s momentary confusion disappeared as he waved away her suggestion. ‘I mean we put me in a trap.’

‘Works for me.’ Rodney chipped in.

John sighed heavily. ‘McKay.’

‘It’s his plan!’ Rodney pointed out even as his cheeks flared red.

‘This kind of work just takes time.’ Daniel said without looking up from the mass of paper that surrounded him.

Mitchell rolled his eyes expressively. ‘Right. Which we don’t have.’

‘Perhaps a short recess is in order?’ Teyla stretched and moved off the cot as though it was a done deal. ‘I believe I would like a walk.’

Fresh air. Exercise. It sounded good to John.

‘Want some company?’ John asked, standing and performing his own stretch, easing out the kinks in his shoulders and neck. His ass was numb.

‘I would like that.’ Teyla smiled at him, her dark eyes warming with friendship and fondness.

‘Rodney?’ John turned to the other member of their team present but Rodney was already gesturing towards one of the laptops.

‘Actually if we’re taking a break from this then there’s stuff that I should check on.’

John nodded and Rodney was gone; diving into the Atlantis systems with a single-minded focus that John appreciated more when they were in a fix and needed Rodney focused.

‘I’m going to stay here.’ Daniel continued not looking at them.

‘Me too.’ Vala said brightly.

Mitchell shrugged. ‘I’ll catch up with Teal’c and Ronon.’ He started to lever himself off the floor.

John motioned for Teyla to head out and followed behind her.

‘Hell!’ Mitchell gasped suddenly. For a second, Mitchell flailed and the prospect of him falling back on the floor was a distinct possibility.

John was beside Mitchell in a heartbeat, one hand grabbing Mitchell’s arm to steady him and the other going around his waist to hold him upright and take his weight. Mitchell leaned on him heavily for a minute, breathing rapidly, and white under his tan.

‘Cramp.’ Mitchell claimed tightly. ‘Sorry.’

Daniel finally looked up from the papers and frowned at his team-mate. ‘You OK?’

‘I’m fine, Jackson.’ Mitchell said breezily. He motioned at the cot with his head and John shuffled a step and helped lower him onto it.

Vala crawled over, concerned. ‘I can get the healing device.’

‘It’s just a cramp.’ Mitchell repeated with an easy smile as he rubbed at his left thigh. ‘Sat on the floor too damn long; that’s all.’

But John had spent enough time with Mitchell to see past the smile and understand the assurance was bravado. Mitchell was definitely hurt.

John stepped back, hands on hips, and tilted his head. ‘So, the device will take care of that, right?’

Mitchell’s eyes snapped to his and there was a weird moment where John knew Mitchell knew John knew. Mitchell grimaced. ‘I’ll be fine.’

This time John believed him because implicit in Mitchell’s statement was that he wasn’t fine right at that moment. John nodded. Rodney caught John’s eye as he turned to leave again and John shook his head almost imperceptibly. Forget it; not important. Rodney turned back to his machines.

John and Teyla wandered out of the house and walked at a steady pace down the driveway. It was a companionable silence. John felt the tension eek out of him with each step. They paused some distance away from the house and stared back at the open countryside.

‘Your world is very beautiful.’ Teyla said quietly.

Her dark eyes were contemplative; her face serene. And John was suddenly deeply pleased to be standing in the middle of Kansas with her. That he got to finally be with her on some part of Earth that wasn’t the grey concrete of the SGC or some messed-up virtual existence created by mist beings.

‘I’m glad you like it.’ It must be weird for her, he realised; a whole planet populated and with most of that population completely unaware of the existence of alien life never mind alien threats. They’d never encountered a world like theirs in Pegasus.

‘The Mitchells are good people.’

John couldn’t argue with that.

Teyla turned her face up to the sun. ‘Wendy has graciously invited me to visit again with Kanaan and Torren. I would like to bring them here before we leave Earth.’

‘Sure.’ John nodded. He remembered thinking of showing his team Clancyville. Maybe they could visit the ranch too, and maybe Jeannie in Canada because Rodney’s sister would never forgive them if they left Earth without stopping by.

‘We should head back.’ Teyla said.

They turned around and John smiled when she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

‘And what of you, John?’ Teyla asked quietly. ‘Current circumstances notwithstanding, you seem…lighter.’

John lifted his eyebrows, tilting backwards slightly as he met her questioning gaze. ‘I, maybe, needed a vacation.’

Teyla’s lips curved. ‘You deserve one.’

The corner of John’s mouth lifted of its own accord.

They walked a few more steps before Teyla spoke again. ‘Mister Woolsey informed us of the situation with an organisation called the Trust?’

‘Did he now?’ John kept his eyes on the driveway; the patches of grass and flowers along the edge.

‘You are concerned for your brother.’ Teyla said with her usual unerring accuracy.

‘He is my brother.’ John said evasively, continuing to walk.

‘Then you have made progress with him?’ Teyla asked pointedly.

John had never talked to her about his brother. He assumed that she’d heard about him from Ronon or Rodney. ‘Maybe.’ He allowed because he and Dave had made some progress. He’d remembered Dave wasn’t his father, and found out Dave had his own issues about their mother’s death; their father’s.

John slid a look towards Teyla. Family was treasured in Teyla’s mind and heart; Teyla’s parents, Tagan and Torren, had probably had a lot of common values with the Mitchells and he was glad she’d met them. He and Rodney weren’t exactly advertisements for healthy family relationships; alone, they could have left Teyla with a very skewed view of typical Earth families. There were parental battles, jealousies and sibling fights aplenty in Pegasus – Dave, at least, had never sent Genii bounty hunters out to kill John – but John was aware that power struggles in Pegasus were about survival underneath any surface illusion of pettiness.

He knew Teyla didn’t understand why Rodney hadn’t spoken to Jeannie for years because she’d asked Rodney once at lunch. John had borne witness to the other man’s stumbling and defensive explanation and Teyla’s continuing bemusement. He thought she probably didn’t understand why John had all but denied the existence of his family; he wasn’t looking forward to the moment she asked and he had to produce his own stumbling and defensive explanation. Maybe he’d borrow Rodney’s…

‘Sometimes family is endured.’

John had only just managed not to nod in agreement at that.

They were almost back at the house.

Teyla’s hand squeezed his arm. ‘Wendy informed me of Colonel Mitchell’s injuries from a…a crash? She said it took many months for him to walk again. I did not realise his injury still troubled him given his place on SG1.’

John shrugged. ‘He was probably right; too much time sitting on the floor.’ Mitchell’s injury was his own business; the guy had to be mission fit because John couldn’t see Lam, the dragon in charge of the SGC infirmary, allowing him on missions if he wasn’t.

A lot of pilots would never have come back from the 302 crash; would never have made the recovery Mitchell had worked his ass off to achieve. John wasn’t sure he could have done it. He’d crashed a few times, and each time had left its own kind of scars on John’s psyche. Teyla had been a passenger when they’d crashed in the jumper, and most recently in a hive ship, but it was hard to describe to someone who didn’t fly what it meant to be the pilot when the aircraft went down. Mitchell’s crash by all accounts had been a doozy.

The events after the Battle of Antarctica were a jumbled mess in John’s mind of what he’d known then and what he’d learned after joining the programme. Then, he’d been nothing more than a helicopter pilot with a black mark suddenly called into classified search and rescue duties with a few others while the rest of McMurdo went on lockdown. He hadn’t been the one to pull Mitchell out of the wreckage of his 302; he’d been too busy pulling bodies out of others.

He remembered it as a flurry of forty-eight long hours where he’d barely been on the ground except for refuelling; one flight after another across the ice; to check they’d found all their people; to report the status of the crashed enemy. On the third day, new pilots had shown up and the McMurdo pilots had been thanked, told to sign their signatures to a stack of non-disclosure agreements and dismissed.

John hadn’t bothered to go along with the others to drink and moan about the unfairness of being cut out of the loop; he’d been involved with too much classified stuff himself before his black mark to dwell on the truth that the government kept secrets. He had slept for twelve hours instead. Maybe he’d wondered absently about the enemy; who they were, whether the rumours of aliens were true but mostly his thoughts had been about the 302 and what it would be like to fly one; regret that he was never likely to know.

A month later, his CO had called him back in and told him he was being assigned as a back-up pilot to the supply run between McMurdo and a new top secret research station. John had figured at the time his record before the black mark had been the reason; he might have trashed any confidence the brass had had in him about following orders but he’d never given them reason to think he didn’t know how to keep a secret. But he was only back-up for when one of the regular pilots wasn’t available so his trips out were far and few between. He’d transported boxes of stuff a few times and taken a couple of technicians out a few more. Frankly, he’d been amazed the day he’d been ordered to report and had been told his cargo was a General.

His previous memories though were overlaid with his newfound knowledge of the Stargate programme; of knowing about the Battle of Antarctica and how close Anubis had come to wiping out Earth; of how many men and women had given their lives to keeping everyone on Earth safe that day; of the chair sitting below the ice waiting for John…

John shook himself out of his introspection as they entered the house and made their way back to the study. He wasn’t looking forward to reviewing the reports again. Teyla’s hand slipped away from him as she returned to her previous place on the cot where Vala had also made room for Mitchell.

Rodney lifted up a brownie and smiled at John. ‘Wendy made snacks.’

‘They’re good.’ Ronon confirmed. He was sprawled over the floor and John had to step over him to get back to his chair.

John sat back down and accepted his brownie from Mitchell with a nodded of thanks. The brownie was incredible; crunchy, chewy and soft in all the right places, sweet with chocolate. John washed it down with a mug of coffee and sat back regarding the others. Teyla and Vala were teasing Rodney over how quickly he had eaten the brownie; Mitchell was discussing Sodan fighting moves with Ronon and Teal’c.

Daniel was alone on the sofa, surrounded by a moat of paper. He hadn’t paid any attention to any of them; his brownie sat forlorn on a plate balanced on one arm of the sofa. Ronon eyed it every so often but Teal’c had strategically positioned himself between Ronon and the brownie so Daniel’s share was safe.

John was about to break up the party and get them back on research when Daniel sat up suddenly, clutching a piece of paper.

‘I have something.’ Daniel said. His blue eyes were gleeful behind the panes of glass.

Mitchell made a grabby motion at the report. ‘What?’

Daniel carefully held it out of range.

‘Jackson!’ Mitchell whined.

John shifted on his chair impatiently but he was saved from saying anything by Rodney who was already talking.

‘Oh for the love of…’ Rodney gesticulated wildly enough that John darted back out of harm’s way. ‘Can we skip the acting like two year olds and get to the point where you tell us what you’ve found already?’

There were times when John loved Rodney for being Rodney.

Daniel shot Rodney an exasperated look but he passed the paper to him. ‘It’s an email from an undisclosed account to Gina Lovell confirming Mitchell’s, uh,’ his eyes slid past his team-mate, ‘honeymoon dates and that the plan was on track.’

John frowned and again Rodney put into words what John was thinking.

‘And this tells us what exactly?’ Rodney flourished the paper at Daniel like a sword.

‘That the honeymoon was part of the plan.’ Daniel said sharply.

John still didn’t get it; he thought they’d already known that. Mitchell apparently felt the same since he was looking at Daniel with bemusement. John looked at Rodney who clearly had gotten it; his blue eyes were wide open.

Vala nodded sagely and twisted a strand of dark hair between her fingers. ‘I had wondered the same thing.’

Mitchell turned to her impatiently; anger flickering across his face. ‘What?’

Vala’s mobile face contorted for a moment into a grimace. ‘How convenient it was that you set your wedding date and honeymoon for the same time that General Landry was debriefing this spy.’

And John got it finally. So did Mitchell from the way his mouth opened and closed soundlessly.

‘The Lucien Alliance wanted you in a vulnerable position around this time.’ Daniel expanded unnecessarily. ‘So they had to have had a part in setting the dates of your honeymoon; they wouldn’t have left it to chance.’

John held Mitchell’s gaze. ‘Who suggested the dates?’

Mitchell was pale except for the twin streaks of red across his cheekbones. ‘Amy. Amy suggested the dates because of her work…but…’

‘We know they have access to brain-washing technology.’ Daniel said, almost apologetically.

‘Or she may be under duress.’ Teal’c said solemnly.

Mitchell stumbled off the cot, gesturing at his team-mates furiously. ‘There is no way that Amy has anything to do with the Lucien Alliance, with this.’

Something else occurred to John. ‘Mitchell, you told me she was the one who proposed.’

The astonished looked on the faces of SG1 gave way that Mitchell hadn’t shared that with them either.

Mitchell flinched. He turned sharply and left the room. John waited a beat, expecting one of SG1 to go after him. He got the message when Teal’c stared at him, a lone eyebrow rising accusingly.

‘Right.’ John said gruffly, pointing at the door. ‘I’ll just…’ he got up and made his way out. He paused when he saw Frank and Wendy sat at the kitchen table, concern written all over their faces. ‘Um, did you see…’

Frank slid a hand over Wendy’s and motioned towards the outside. ‘He sometimes heads to the Thompson’s field when he’s upset. Keep left at the end of the drive.’ There was a look of confidence and trust in Frank’s eyes that had John’s stomach churning nervously.

John nodded again; attempted a reassuring smile and headed out before they could read past his fake bravado. He began to jog as soon as he was outside, shifting into a smooth run. As it turned out Mitchell hadn’t gone far. He sat in the grass where the drive met the road, and worryingly had his cell phone in his hand.

‘Did you call her?’ John asked breathlessly, running up to stand beside Mitchell. His heart was pounding; chest tight with too short breaths which weren’t all run-related because if Mitchell had called Amy and alerted the Lucien Alliance then the show was over.

‘No.’ He handed John his cell phone without looking at him. ‘I was going to but…I don’t know what to say. What the fuck can I say?’

John breathed out, relief careening through him. He hovered for a moment; the weight of the cell phone heavy in his hand. There’d been a catch in Mitchell’s voice; the thick suppression of tears that John realised Mitchell didn’t want anyone to see. But leaving the other man alone was not a good idea – for one thing Mitchell made too tempting a target.

He lowered himself down to the ground without looking at Mitchell. John rested his elbows lightly on his knees, copying the other man’s position. They sat quietly, gazing out at the empty road; at the dust rising in the heat and swirling around on the breeze.

‘This is my fault.’ Mitchell said eventually.

‘Unless you’re secretly the head of the Lucien Alliance, I’m thinking, not really.’ John replied sardonically.

‘Whether she’s been brainwashed or blackmailed or, whatever,’ Mitchell said tersely, ‘they’re using her to get to me.’

‘Yes. They are.’ John agreed mildly. He was only too aware though that nothing he said would assuage Mitchell’s feelings of guilt.

Mitchell let out a sigh and moved position, curling forward over his knees to glare at a tree across the road. ‘We have to save her.’

‘We will.’ John had a vague plan taking shape in his mind; half-formed and not without risk. It needed input from his team; SG1; from Mitchell himself. He cleared his throat. ‘I think I have an idea. We should get back.’

‘I know.’

John glanced over at Mitchell for the first time and looked away again quickly when he caught a glimpse of the moisture tracking down Mitchell’s cheeks.

‘Can we just…’ Mitchell’s voice broke and he took a deep breath, trying to regain control. ‘Can we sit here for a while longer?’

John had an idea how much it had cost Mitchell to ask. He pulled a strand of grass from the ground and played with it, threading it between his fingers. ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘we can do that.’

Chapter 15

‘I hate to be the voice of reason, but is it safe for them to be outside alone?’ Rodney said worriedly, breaking the awkward silence that had filled the study after John’s departure.

Ronon jumped up. ‘I’ll go.’

Teyla slid off the bed to join him. She placed a hand on Rodney’s shoulder as she passed; a silent promise to keep John safe, and presumably Mitchell who was the actual target and who had been stupid enough to run off alone.

Their exit left Rodney in the uncomfortable stillness of a room filled with SG1. Rodney looked from one unhappy face to another and squirmed in his seat. It was clear that Mitchell had confided more in John about his relationship with the doomed Amy than any of them. A part of Rodney – the part of him that had evolved in the five years he’d spent in Atlantis felt nothing but sympathy for their misery. Which they probably wanted to discuss without an audience, Rodney realised belatedly. He quietly excused himself with a muttered observation that he needed to make some calls.

He took his datapad and cell phone, and sneaked back out to the table where they’d eaten breakfast. In the distance he could see Mitchell and John at the end of the drive; sat on the grass, two similar shapes hunched over. He scanned the surrounding area and spotted Teyla and Ronon guarding them unobtrusively.

Rodney huffed out a short breath of relief. He set the datapad on the table and called Radek. They discussed the repairs and Rodney let the status of Atlantis consume his mind, burying the immediate problem of Mitchell and the Lucien Alliance under a flood of diagnostic results, personnel assignment issues and technical problems all needing solutions. But Radek was good, even if Rodney didn’t admit it as much as he should, and they covered a lot of ground quickly. Rodney found himself thumbing the disconnect button a lot sooner than he had thought he would.

His blue eyes automatically picked out John and Mitchell again at the end of the drive. Jealousy unfurled uneasily in his belly. John was his best friend and Rodney felt a little usurped. He’d been fine with John spending his leave with Mitchell although it occurred to him that John’s daily calls had helped with that; the knowledge that John wanted to talk to Rodney despite having Mitchell right there with him. But seeing the reality that Mitchell confided in John and John simply sat beside Mitchell offering him comfort…Rodney hated it. It was stupid and juvenile, and Rodney hated feeling stupid and juvenile. He shook away his thoughts, annoyed at himself.

He couldn’t blame Mitchell. Who wouldn’t want John Sheppard for their friend? And Rodney was prepared to admit that Mitchell had had a pretty crappy couple of weeks. It wasn’t every day that someone found out that their girlfriend had probably been brainwashed by an alien organisation, proposed to them and arranged their marriage for the sole purpose of abducting them. Rodney knew if he ever found out that Jennifer was only with him because she’d been brainwashed that John was the first person he’d call.

Rodney frowned. Jennifer wasn’t with him because she’d been brainwashed, he reassured himself. Still, he reached for the phone. The number connected immediately and suddenly Jennifer was at the other end saying hello with a bright cheerful voice that had Rodney smiling.

‘Hi.’ Rodney said and floundered because he really hadn’t thought through the compulsion to call her beyond an urge to check she wasn’t brainwashed.

‘Rodney,’ Jennifer’s voice warmed with surprise and affection, ‘I thought you’d be too busy with the repairs to call.’

‘Well, I wanted to…’ Rodney searched for an explanation and landed on what he and John had been calling their daily calls, ‘check-in. See how you were doing.’

‘OK.’ Jennifer sounded a little sceptical and Rodney felt defensive because he knew she knew him well enough to know he wasn’t the type to check-in. ‘I’m having fun.’ She continued. ‘My Dad’s in good form and I met up with an old friend from med school.’

Rodney’s mind blazed suddenly. The friend. Staying with Mitchell’s ex. Completely natural after a break-up, one preceded by being all but jilted at the altar, right? A concerned friend making sure that she was fine and not suspicious at all.

Jennifer continued talking but Rodney was barely listening. The friend had to be Lucien Alliance; had to be.

‘…and I’m thinking she might be a good addition to my team. What about you?’

‘Mmm?’ Rodney abruptly remembered he was on the phone to Jennifer. ‘Sorry. Major break-through. I have to…’

‘You called me, Rodney.’ Jennifer’s exasperation travelled quite clearly through their connection.

‘I know, and I do want to talk with you, I really do, it’s just…this is important.’ Rodney was already gathering his datapad off the table and trying to untangle himself from the bench.

‘It’s OK, Rodney.’ Jennifer said. ‘I’ll see you in a couple of days. You can make it up to me then.’ Amusement lightened her voice.

He really had the best girlfriend in the world.

‘Yes, yes, I’ll see you then.’ Rodney promised rashly because he really didn’t know if they were going to be back in Atlantis in a couple of days. He ended the call and hurried inside.

He burst into the study and the three members of SG1 turned to look at him with varying expressions of annoyance (Daniel), amusement (Vala) and the Eyebrow again from Teal’c.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Rodney didn’t slow down; he made his way to the desk and started logging back onto the laptop, ‘but I suddenly realised the woman staying with whatshername…’ he flapped his hand in the direction of Teal’c.

‘Amy.’

‘Amy, right,’ Rodney tapped in a few commands and brought up the latest surveillance reports, ‘her friend is Lucien Alliance.’

‘Because what better way to keep track of her than pretend to be a friend staying with her.’ Daniel expanded, immediately understanding Rodney’s conclusion. He was suddenly beside Rodney and pointing at the keyboard – needlessly in Rodney’s opinion. ‘You need to…’

‘I know.’

‘And check the…’

‘I know that too.’ Rodney snapped. ‘I have done this before.’

‘You’ve hacked into the phone company before?’ Daniel asked pointedly.

‘Like you haven’t.’ Rodney scoffed. ‘Well, probably you haven’t,’ he admitted, waving at Daniel, ‘it was probably Sam.’

‘Perhaps we should focus on obtaining the information we require.’ Teal’c suggested.

Rodney looked over his shoulder and started; Teal’c was just behind him. Looming. Rodney turned back to his work and a few seconds later, he had two laptops; one filled with phone information, the other compiling a background check on Amy’s friend, Lucinda Keene. He handed the latter off to Daniel before moving to the next stage on the phone information; tracing the numbers on the list.

It was a long list; numbers Amy or Keene had dialled; numbers that had dialled into the phones listed to Amy; tracing any numbers that Keene had in her name; cross-checking them. He set up another programme to start a real-time phone trace mainly because he believed in being prepared.

‘This is fascinating.’ Daniel murmured. ‘According to this Keene’s identity is solid as far back as the bounty hunting incident. She’s been in place a while.’

‘A napper?’ Vala suggested.

‘I think you mean sleeper.’ Daniel responded idly. ‘And yes; I think she was put in place as a sleeper. Actually that might be good news since one of the first things she did was make friends with Amy.’

‘What’s good news?’ John’s drawl had Rodney shooting a look over his shoulder.

John was framed by the doorway; hands low on his hips. He looked tired and Rodney resented Mitchell fiercely for a second for that. But it wasn’t really Mitchell’s fault that the solution – vacation – had been interrupted, and Rodney directed his anger back to his work as Daniel explained their progress. A moment later, Rodney felt John’s hand on his shoulder.

‘That’s good work, Rodney.’ John dropped into the chair beside Rodney. ‘I think I have a plan but we’ll wait until everyone’s back.’

‘Does this plan involve you doing something heroic and foolish?’ Rodney asked suspiciously, continuing to input instructions into the laptop. He had found four numbers which he believed were all Lucien Alliance related and he was busy putting traces on them.

John’s lips twitched but his hazel eyes met Rodney’s with rueful acknowledgement that most of John’s plans involved him doing something heroic and foolish. ‘I don’t think so but then I haven’t really got much further than the initial concept.’

‘Where’s Mitchell?’ Rodney asked.

‘Making coffee.’ John replied, folding his arms and stretching out his legs. His eyes were on the laptop screen and Rodney knew that John knew exactly what Rodney was doing.

‘You’ve identified the other members of the Lucien Alliance cell.’ John realised.

‘Four of them. If we assume that the five identities were additional to Keene and Lovell than that’s…’

‘Seven.’ John completed.

‘I am once again impressed by your ability to perform basic addition.’ Rodney teased him dryly.

John waggled his eyebrows at him. ‘I can subtract too.’ He waved a hand at the monitor. ‘We still need to identify the seventh member.’

‘That’s the tricky one. I don’t think they’re in the US.’ Rodney admitted. ‘I need a satellite.’

‘Send it to Sam.’ John suggested. ‘She’s got a better connection at the SGC.’

Rodney grimaced but John was right. He fired off his findings and suggestions for tracing the number in an email to Sam.

‘Coffee.’ Mitchell announced, entering the study. He had a huge tray filled with mugs of varying sizes.

‘And cake.’ Teyla added, just behind him.

Rodney bounced impatiently as they slid their offerings onto the coffee table in front of the sofa. He dove in and grabbed both a large mug of coffee and a piece of cake before anyone else could get to them.

‘Those for me, McKay?’ John grinned at him.

Rodney heaved a long-suffering sigh and offered both to him.

‘Thanks.’ John said with a note of sincerity.

Rodney harrumphed and went back for his own. He muttered under his breath because the slice of cake was marginally smaller and the mug definitely was. He settled into his chair and wasn’t surprised when John rolled his eyes, shoved more cake onto Rodney’s plate and swapped their mugs around.

They both looked up to see the members of SG1, all huddled together on the cot where Daniel had migrated with the second laptop, staring at them. Rodney glowered back because he’d seen Daniel give O’Neill his cake before and Teal’c swap his entire meal once with Sam. His and John’s behaviour wasn’t any stranger and, in retrospect, Rodney didn’t find that at all comforting.

‘So,’ John said loudly, clearly signalling that they wouldn’t be talking about his and Rodney’s sharing habits, ‘I believe we have some new leads we need to brief everyone about.’

‘Lucinda Keene is definitely a Lucien Alliance spy.’ Daniel said, although his blue eyes were twinkling.

‘Lucy?’ Mitchell almost choked on his cake. ‘Amy’s friend, Lucy?’

‘She was placed here as far as we could tell soon after Netan’s demise.’ Daniel continued briskly. ‘Her mandate was obviously to befriend Amy to get to you; an objective which meant she was in the perfect position when the details of the spy situation were leaked to the Lucien Alliance.’

‘So, Lucy’s a plant?’ Mitchell shook his head. ‘She’s a sweetheart. Her and Gus.’

‘Gus?’ Rodney jumped on the name and cross-checked it. ‘That’s one of the other names I’ve identified. Gus Jameson; thirty-four, self-employed IT consultant living in Kansas City.’

‘Gus is her partner. Amy and I have been out to dinner with them a few times.’ Mitchell sighed. ‘Only he’s not, is he? And she’s not…’

‘Well, they could be together, Cameron.’ Vala said soothingly. ‘We really have no idea about their sex lives.’

Teyla looked slightly scandalised.

‘Getting back to the point?’ John suggested strongly.

‘This is good news.’ Daniel said brightly.

‘That they aren’t having sex?’ Vala teased him with wide-eyed innocence that Rodney had to admire if only because it had Mitchell laughing and covering it with a fake cough.

‘That if Lucy has befriended Amy, it’s unlikely that Amy herself is brainwashed.’ Daniel snapped out. ‘It’s more likely simple manipulation.’

‘Manipulation?’ Mitchell asked tightly.

Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose and met Mitchell’s fierce glare. ‘Lucy suggests to Amy that she might want to date you; encourages her to propose to you; maybe even suggests the dates. Amy thinks nothing of it; it’s just her friend being supportive.’

Some of the tension left Mitchell; he visibly relaxed back into the stack of pillows. ‘That is good news.’

‘We should still proceed on the basis that Amy’s brainwashed.’ John said apologetically. He motioned with his cake fork at Mitchell. ‘As much as this information indicates otherwise until she’s checked out by Lam at the SGC, we can’t take the risk.’

Mitchell nodded, an unhappy frown pulling his lips down. He waved at Rodney. ‘You said you’d identified Gus?’

Rodney swallowed the last mouthful of cake and pushed his plate at John. ‘I’ve back-traced four of the phone numbers that were regularly called by Keene. Two were cell phones; one registered to Gus who may or may not be sleeping with Keene; the other to a guy named Kyle Baker based out of Colorado and who lives down the road from Mitchell.’

Rodney took a breath, got one hand on the laptop and started tapping again. ‘One of the other numbers was to a hotel outside Topeka where I would guess we’re looking at a guest called Elise Vanoit who arrived from France the day after your wedding was, uh, cancelled. I think that she handled the French end of the original plan. There was a warehouse rented in her name in downtown Paris.’

‘And the fourth guy?’ Ronon asked gruffly.

‘Washington landline. A Bill Hargreaves.’ Rodney frowned at the slow unravel of data. ‘He’s connected to Gina Lovell. Same apartment building and…’

A cell phone rang.

Rodney speared John with a sharp look.

John reached into his jeans’ pocket, pulled out a cell phone, frowned and threw it at Mitchell. ‘Yours.’

Mitchell looked at the display and raised his head, panicked. ‘It’s Amy.’

‘Don’t answer it!’ Daniel, John and Rodney all snapped out the instruction in a bizarre chorus that had them looking sheepishly at each other.

‘Wasn’t planning to.’ Mitchell said mildly. He fingered the cell phone and diverted the call to the message centre. He held it aloft. ‘Now what?’

‘Is it possible that they are aware of our investigation?’ Teyla asked and it was a good question.

It was a remarkable coincidence that Mitchell’s ex had called them in the middle of them discussing the Lucien Alliance.

‘I don’t see how.’ Daniel replied. ‘I mean, yes; they’re probably aware that we, as in the Stargate programme, are investigating them since their attempt to get Mitchell blew up but I doubt they know specifically that we’re talking about them right now.’

‘What about their information?’ Mitchell pointed at the laptops. ‘Did we trigger some alarms or red flags or…’

Rodney bristled under the implied criticism. ‘Firstly, this isn’t a movie, Colonel, and secondly, I did not set off any alarms or red flags or whatever.’ At least he didn’t think he did. He bent his head to his laptop and checked quickly. No. No alarms or red flags. He lifted his head and found John smirking at him.

‘I’m not surprised she’s called you.’ Vala announced licking chocolate off her fork with an easy sensuality that had Rodney reminding himself he had a girlfriend.

Daniel sighed. ‘Because?’ He prompted impatiently.

‘Well, let’s recap, shall we?’ Vala smiled widely. She got to her feet and stretched.

Rodney enjoyed the view but a recap? Seriously. ‘We don’t need a recap.’

‘I’d like a recap.’ John said innocently.

Rodney’s head swivelled to him; he could feel his face going red. ‘You want a recap?’

‘It might be useful.’ John lifted his eyebrows, his hazel eyes glinting with laughter and Rodney knew he was being teased. ‘You know to recap.’

Rodney’s eyes narrowed. John sparred physically with Teyla and Ronon but he verbally sparred with Rodney and they both enjoyed it. It was good, Rodney thought absently, to see humour easing out the white tension lines on John’s face. ‘That’s because your hair doesn’t leave you enough room to keep track of…’

‘Rodney, John.’ Teyla interrupted them calmly but firmly. ‘Perhaps it would be best if we allowed Vala to continue.’

In other words, shut the hell up. Rodney turned to John and they exchanged identical ‘we pissed Teyla off again’ looks.

A brief glance around the rest of the room revealed that they’d become the centre of attention again. Ronon grinned at them; Daniel and Vala look unwillingly fascinated; Teal’c was amused if the minute lift of his lips meant anything, and Mitchell looked like he was trying not to laugh, relief gleaming in his blue eyes that he was no longer the main focus of the room. Rodney thought maybe that was the point when he darted another look at John and saw him settling back with a faintly satisfied smirk.

Rodney made an apologetic gesture in Vala’s direction and subsided.

Vala stood in the centre of the room. ‘OK, let’s pretend that I’m the Lucien Alliance.’

Daniel pursed his lips and Rodney thought he was making an effort not to say anything. Rodney sympathised with him because he was biting down on his own lip in an effort not to snap at Vala to get to the point already.

‘I know I have a spy that is on Earth that I need to get to and I know the spy first had…contact with Cameron.’

Mitchell flushed and stared hard at Vala. ‘I didn’t sleep with her!’

‘Of course not, Cameron.’ Vala winked at him audaciously.

‘Vala.’ Daniel sighed.

Rodney folded his arms and wondered if there was popcorn in the kitchen because, OK, if Vala and SG1 were going to be putting on a floor show, the recap had the potential to be quite entertaining.

‘Right, so I know I have Lucy so I initiate Operation Honeymoon Trap. I get Lucy to encourage Amy to ask Cameron to marry her and to set the dates for when I need to make my grab for Cameron. He’ll be on honeymoon so no-one will notice if he goes missing.’ Vala elucidated the pointed very well. ‘But then, Cameron changes his mind at the last minute and cancels the wedding.’

Mitchell winced visibly. He tugged on the laces of his sneakers and avoided everyone’s eyes.

‘So Operation Honeymoon Trap is a big failure. Everyone is now paying attention to Cameron. If he goes missing; people are going to notice and worry.’ Vala expanded.

Rodney thought she was making a point to Mitchell; so did Mitchell if his glare was anything to go by.

‘Then, he sets off on a vacation and, OK, he has another cute Colonel,’ Vala pointed in John’s direction, ‘along with him who they’ll have to deal with, but it provides them with another opportunity. Operation Freak Them Out is born. But the idea of forcing the boys into hiding where they’ll be vulnerable and easy pickings fails miserably.’

Rodney rolled his eyes. ‘So, the Lucien Alliance failed. We know they failed. They know they failed.’ He made a circular motion with one hand in lieu of saying ‘get on with it.’

Vala stuck her tongue out at him. ‘So, as the Lucien Alliance I’m stuck. I decide to regroup. I still have time and I know I’m safe because Amy is under protective surveillance and not in custody.’

‘The SGC and NID investigation have focused on Lovell and her activities.’ Daniel noted. ‘If we assume they know that…’

‘Exactly.’ Vala beamed at him. ‘So, when Cameron comes back to Kansas, despite the presence of our little gathering, I see an opportunity. I know where he is for a couple of days. I just need to get rid of his pesky friends and make it seem like it’s Cameron’s choice.’

‘Amy’s going to suggest a meeting.’ John said suddenly, getting the Alliance strategy immediately.

Vala whirled around and nodded. ‘It’s perfect. Amy calls Cameron; she’s upset about the break-up, wants to talk. Cameron’s much too nice to say no. They arrange to meet and…BAM!’ She smacked a fist into a palm. ‘The Alliance springs its trap.’

‘So I won’t be calling her back then.’ Mitchell said grimly.

‘Actually,’ John sat forward, ‘this is kind of my plan.’ He sounded peevishly upset that the Alliance had made the first move. ‘Only this works better.’

He’d been planning to have Mitchell call Amy, Rodney realised, a heartbeat behind John’s thinking.

‘What?’ Mitchell asked, confused.

John motioned at the cell phone Mitchell was holding. ‘My plan was for you to call her and arrange a meeting; we spring a trap. Now though…’

‘We can pretend to go along with their plan while springing a counter-trap of our own!’ Vala exclaimed. ‘That’s brilliant!’

‘Well, I don’t know about brilliant.’ John waved off the praise but his ears were going red.

And it was a good plan, Rodney considered; needed some work but it had potential.

‘No.’ Mitchell stood up. He looked serious; hands on hips serious. Rodney wondered if the Air Force taught the pose in some kind of ‘how to act like a hero’ class. ‘This is not a good plan. Amy…we’d be putting Amy at risk.’

‘Only a little bit.’ Rodney said defensively.

Mitchell glowered at him. ‘Unacceptable. She’s a civilian; she’s…’

‘Already in danger.’ Rodney fired back. ‘You think if you ignore the call, they’re going to leave her alone and not use her? That rather than a call from Amy, you’re not going to get a call from, oh I didn’t know, Lucy or Gus threatening her unless you show up alone, somewhere?’

Mitchell’s face tightened with anger. John got to his feet, drawing Mitchell’s attention. It reminded Rodney of how John would step in front of him off-world when Rodney was in danger of being hit.

‘If we set the trap, we have a better chance of getting her out safely.’ John stated softly. ‘You know that.’

‘I believe Colonel Sheppard is correct.’ Teal’c commented quietly.

Mitchell looked at his team-mate and back at John searchingly. John nodded and Rodney knew it was a promise; they’d do everything they could to save Amy. Which undoubtedly would make life much more complicated than it needed to be.

Mitchell nodded slowly. ‘How are we going to do this?’ He held his phone up. ‘Do I call her?’

‘Not yet.’ John said. ‘We need a few things in place first.’

‘Like the rest of the plan?’ Rodney suggested acerbically.

‘Yeah, the rest of the plan would be good.’ John grinned with a pointed look of expectation.

‘Oh right.’ Rodney sighed but this was what they did; John came up with the crazy idea and Rodney made it work. ‘That would be up to me then.’

Chapter 16

Cam woke in a rush of something akin to panic. His heart was beating crazily; thumping against his ribcage; his breaths were pants that echoed in his ears. He sat abruptly and tried to orientate himself in the dark of the den. He was stretched out on the sofa; a blanket was tangled around his legs, pooled in a heavy swathe across his hips. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, across his forehead. It came away slick with sweat.

‘You OK?’ Daniel asked sleepily from his place on the floor. He’d made a nest of blankets and a sleeping bag. There was enough grey light seeping in through the gap in the drapes to illuminate his face; a pale oval of white in amongst the dark shadows.

‘I’m fine.’ Cam managed, realising Daniel was waiting for a reply. ‘Didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.’ He shoved at the blanket and managed to dislodge it. He swung his legs off the sofa and sat hunched over, trying to regain his breath. He was barely aware of Daniel moving until his friend sat beside him, wrapped in his sleeping bag and blinking blearily because he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

‘Sorry.’ Cam slumped back against the sofa cushions. It wasn’t enough that the day was going to be humiliating enough, Cam just had to freak out before it had even started. He was glad Teal’c had decided to go with Ronon to Kansas City to meet up with the advance team.

It was all part of the plan. Cam let his mind run through the details. John had been placed in command by Sam as soon as they had briefed her and Cam didn’t have too many problems with that. Cam knew himself that he was too close to the situation to make objective decisions and he trusted John.

John’s first order of business had to bring in a team from Atlantis in a puddle jumper to head to Kansas City and get everything set up there; Rodney had gone with them along with Ronon and Teal’c. They were keeping track of the Lucien Alliance team, and wiring up the venue where Cam would meet Amy. Vala and Teyla were staying with his parents. John, Cam and Daniel would travel to Kansas City; Cam to meet with Amy and for the trap and counter-trap to be sprung.

And hope they all didn’t get killed.

Daniel nudged Cam’s knee with his own. ‘It’s OK not to be OK.’

Cam did a reasonable impression of Teal’c, lifting an eyebrow and casting a disbelieving look in Daniel’s direction.

‘It’s four o’clock in the morning,’ Daniel said tiredly, huddling into his sleeping bag, ‘my powers to construct sentences may not be at their zenith.’

‘Oh, I didn’t know, Jackson,’ Cam drawled, amused despite everything, ‘only you could use a word like zenith at four o’clock in the morning.’

‘I think Rodney might give it a go.’ Daniel said dryly.

‘Yes but I understand when you use words.’ Cam replied. McKay’s speech was an avalanche of technobabble.

Daniel blinked and refocused on Cam. ‘Just as well Sheppard understands him. They make a good team.’

‘They do.’ Cam agreed. The two men had their push and pull down to a fine art; the instinctive knowledge of when the other had hit a problem, when to step in and take over, when to hold back and support. It had been impressive; maybe even a little awe-inspiring particularly the number of popular culture references they could cram into explaining things to each other. The planning had been pretty much the two of them hammering out the big picture with the rest of them adding the fine detail. It was a good plan. It might even work.

‘It’s not surprising that they know each other so well,’ Daniel murmured, ‘they’ve been working together for a long time – longer than us.’

That hadn’t occurred to Cam and it settled the brief flashes of jealousy he’d experienced through the day because he’d thought he and his team had a rhythm but it wasn’t quite as smooth as John’s with Rodney.

‘You don’t mind, um, not having the command?’ Daniel asked tentatively.

Cam shrugged; a mere shift of his shoulders against the soft fabric of the cushions. ‘Sam’s right; I’m too close and John knows his men better.’

‘You know SG1 better.’ Daniel pointed out.

‘I think John can handle us.’ Cam said, flushed with pleasure at Daniel’s comment. ‘He commands an entire city in the middle of enemy territory, and we might be bad but we’re not that bad.’

‘You trust him.’ Daniel observed.

‘I do.’ Cam said simply.

‘Because he’s a pilot?’ Daniel asked.

Cam turned his head to look at him. Daniel looked back at him with nothing but curiosity creasing his brow and widening his eyes. ‘Maybe at first,’ Cam admitted honestly, ‘but mainly because he’s a friend now.’ He was grateful for the dark hiding his flushed cheeks at the self-conscious admission.

Daniel’s lips did a strange twist.

Cam frowned. ‘You don’t trust him?’

‘In the abstract, I trust him. I mean, he’s very good at what he does, and I know he played a large part in saving me when I visited Atlantis.’ Daniel said. ‘But, no; I don’t trust him like you do.’

Cam made a hum of acknowledgement. A chill had him folding his arms over his chest and rubbing his upper arms to warm them. Daniel tsked at him and reached across to cover Cam with a blanket. He was kind of tucking it into Cam’s side and Cam was half-amused by the almost parental move when Daniel cleared his throat.

‘I trust you.’

For a second, Cam didn’t know what to say to Daniel’s quiet comment. They didn’t talk about their friendship as a rule. ‘Well, you kind of have to, Jackson. I’m your team leader.’

‘Maybe at first,’ Daniel smiled at him, ‘but mainly because, you know, you’re my friend now.’

Cam’s unaccountably touched; a rush of delight, pride and smug pleasure filled him. He’d thought he was over wanting and needing the approval of his team-mates but maybe he wasn’t; maybe he never had been. He nudged Daniel’s knee with his own. ‘Me too, Daniel.’

He was satisfied when Daniel nudged him back. He knew the other man would notice the unusual use of his first name too; they usually stuck to their surnames – buddy rules they’d silently worked out in the early days of working together.

They sat in the quiet for a while. Cam tracked the shadows across the ceiling; the thin light getting brighter in the window.

‘We should probably get back to sleep.’ Daniel said after a while. ‘Big day.’

Cam sighed. He couldn’t say he was looking forward to it. It was going to be excruciatingly embarrassing talking to Amy with everyone listening in to every word. It had been bad enough setting up the meeting.

‘I don’t know what to say to her.’ What a difference a week made, Cam thought with rueful amusement, because maybe he was beginning to understand why he didn’t want to talk to his team-mates and maybe he was still scared but he thought it would be OK.

‘If you didn’t have all of us listening in, didn’t have the threat of the Lucien Alliance hanging over your head,’ Daniel said softly, ‘what would you say to her then?’

‘That I didn’t want to change my life for her.’ Cam rested his head back on the cushions and stared sightlessly up at the ceiling, focusing on a familiar smear of paint.

‘What did she want you to change?’ Daniel asked. He sounded outraged and protective on Cam’s behalf; a benediction that soothed Cam’s turbulent feelings and ragged thoughts.

‘Nothing.’ Cam admitted with a short, humourless laugh. ‘That was the problem. She didn’t want me to change and I didn’t want to change. Aren’t you supposed to want to change things when you, uh, you’re in love?’

‘Are you?’ Daniel countered reasonably. ‘Don’t we, I mean society, all talk about how if you love someone you shouldn’t want to change them?’

‘Sure, nobody should want to change you but shouldn’t you want to change things to be with them?’ Cam argued back. ‘Hell, you gave up your entire planet to be with your wife.’ He winced because there was kind of unspoken rule that nobody talked about Sha’re unless Daniel brought up the subject himself.

‘Honestly, it wasn’t the big romantic gesture that it sounds like.’ Daniel said almost apologetically. ‘There wasn’t anything for me on Earth when I went to Abydos the first time.’ He sighed. ‘Sometimes, I wonder if I…if I’d managed to save her three, four years into the programme, what choice I would have made when there was a real choice to make.’

Cam was silent. He had no clue what to say.

‘And then I remember,’ Daniel continued, ‘that it wouldn’t have been me making a choice; it would have been us; Sha’re and I, together.’

‘See, I think that’s what bothered me; there was never an ‘us’ making a choice. There was me feeling like I should make a choice and not wanting to.’ Cam sighed because he knew there was more to the ‘should’ and the ‘not wanting to’ but there were some truths he wasn’t ready to face. ‘I felt trapped.’

Daniel made a sympathetic noise. ‘Well, when you think about it, the relationship was constructed or encouraged by the Lucien Alliance for the sole purpose of trapping you so maybe you subconsciously suspected something all along.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Cam laughed, ‘I’m not that perceptive, Daniel.’

‘You don’t give yourself enough credit sometimes, Cameron.’ Daniel replied seriously. He patted Cam’s arm through the layer of blanket.

He was momentarily disconcerted by the use of his first name but appreciated the gesture. ‘Not about this.’ Cam said tiredly. ‘I think it’s more likely that I’ve spent the last year being an idiot. Not talking to you guys, not talking to Amy, not being honest with myself.’

‘Are you being honest now?’ Daniel asked bluntly.

‘I’m getting there.’ Cam replied. ‘I think…I know there’s more stuff I need to work through.’

‘Maybe tomorrow will help.’ Daniel clambered to his feet, still wrapped in the sleeping bag. ‘Get some sleep.’

Cam nodded and he stretched back out, rearranging the blanket over his body until he was warm and comfortable. He fell asleep with the thought that maybe everything was going to be OK.

It was a thought that stayed with him through his morning routine. Cam was left alone with his father at the breakfast table after John disappeared to check in with the team in Kansas City, Daniel left to pack, and Vala and Teyla went inside to help Cam’s Mom with the clean-up.

The sun was shining; the air was scented with grass, dirt and the lingering aroma of bacon. Cam picked up his coffee and breathed in the bitterness before taking an appreciative sip. He changed position, resting his back against the table and letting his legs stretch out in front of him.

‘You’re going to continue your flying trip after…today?’

His parents knew something was going to happen related to why they had Vala and Teyla staying with them; they just didn’t know what.

‘That’s the plan.’ Cam nodded. He and John had discussed their next location the previous evening.

His Dad smiled at him. ‘John’s a good man.’

‘Yes, he is.’ Cam agreed, pleased with his father’s approval of his friend.

His Dad looked momentarily uncertain but he leaned forward with obvious intent. ‘Is the trip helping him as much as it’s helping you?’

‘I hope so.’ Cam answered seriously, not really surprised that his Dad had picked up on John’s inner demons. His Dad had always been great at seeing through the masks people wore to the truth.

His Dad sat back. ‘You should bring him back before he leaves for wherever it is he’s based.’ And the wink that accompanied his words meant his Dad hadn’t been oblivious to the few indiscreet stumbles on the cover story that had happened around the dinner table.

‘I’ll try.’ Cam said and meant it.

‘You seem better.’ His Dad said quietly.

‘I’m doing better.’ Cam’s fingers interlaced around the ceramic and warmed with the last of the heat of his coffee leeching through. ‘You were right about me being unhappy; about it being more than just Amy.’

His Dad nodded but he didn’t press for details and Cam was glad. He still wasn’t ready to share them or to spell them out in his own head.

John walked out and gestured at him, an apologetic smile aimed towards Cam’s Dad for interrupting and what he was about to say. ‘We should get going.’

Cam slid a look in his Dad’s direction and pushed away from the table. He clasped his Dad’s shoulder briefly on his way into the house, leaving John alone with him.

The goodbyes were a flurry of hugs, wishes of good luck and worried faces. Cam spent the drive to Kansas City going over the plan details with John and Daniel. John checked in with McKay who was stationed in the puddle jumper overseeing all the technical aspects of the mission. There was a part of Cam which was never going to be comfortable with thinking that a meeting with his ex-fiancée was deemed a mission.

The Lucien Alliance advance team Vanoit and Hargreaves had apparently arrived at the coffee shop that the SGC had taken over, planting Marines in the kitchen and waiting the tables. Hargreaves was the Alliance’s technical team because the surveillance equipment they’d already planted – microphones and security cameras – was jammed and McKay confirmed over their headsets that they’d jammed the Asgard beam-out technology. McKay was working on a solution to both issues. He and John traded easy insults about Mission Impossible.

By the time they arrived at the airport – ostensibly to keep up the cover of a team get-together over the weekend and to go through the pretence of dropping Daniel off to take a flight home before Cam and John returned to their vacation – Cam was so tense that he was sure his dentist was going to lecture fairly extensively about grinding teeth at his next check-up.

Daniel grabbed his bag from the trunk. He was going to enter the airport, exit through a side-entrance and get into the cloaked puddle jumper if everything went to plan. He shook hands with John. ‘Keep him safe.’

Cam was surprised but John accepted the order with a brisk nod.

‘Try not to murder Rodney.’ John replied with equal seriousness.

Daniel nodded and turned to Cam as John headed back to the driver’s seat. Before Cam could say anything, Daniel stepped up and hugged him.

‘No running off on your own. You trust him, remember.’ Daniel said before he pulled back. He was gone before Cam could muster up a protest.

Just because he’d run off a couple of times, Cam mused, partly irked by the admonishment and partly touched. He got back in the car.

‘Ready?’ John asked. He looked good in a grey t-shirt, jeans and a dark grey blazer that covered his shoulder holster. Cam had gone with jeans, navy t-shirt, leather jacket; his gun was tucked away in a holster at the small of his back.

Cam checked the time. They were right on schedule. He and John had agreed that it wouldn’t be unusual for them to turn up early. Cam had told Amy that he’d be bringing a friend. Amy had sounded concerned but not worried. Cam took Amy’s behaviour as evidence that Amy was only acting on suggestions from Lucy; that she was just an unwitting pawn in the Alliance’s game. But John had been firm that they should assume Amy was brainwashed; it was the worst case scenario but a real possibility.

‘Are you two going to sit in the car all day or are we doing this?’ McKay’s strident question blared into their ears.

John tapped his earpiece. ‘We’re going to sit in the car all day.’ He answered back although whatever words had been said out loud, ‘what crawled up your ass?’ was actually what was conveyed by his tone. His next question though revealed he probably knew the answer to that. ‘Have you got Daniel?’

‘Yes, we have Daniel.’ McKay replied tightly. ‘We are on our way back to the coffee shop.’ The cloaked puddle jumper would sit on the roof with Daniel and McKay inside.

‘Have you…’

‘We have surveillance back online.’ McKay said. ‘But there isn’t a way around the beam-out jamming without taking out their laptop.’

‘That could be an option if things didn’t go to plan.’ John replied. ‘The guy’s sitting in the coffee shop working on it, right?’

‘Right because shooting things is always the way to go.’ McKay said morosely.

‘Correct your course, Rodney.’ John returned sweetly.

‘How did you…’ McKay spluttered.

And Cam joined McKay in wondering if John knew that McKay was wandering off course in the puddle jumper because he could sense the Ancient tech with his mind or whether he simply knew the scientist that well.

‘What about their people?’ John asked, keeping them all focused.

‘The French woman is still at another table. And we’ve got the last guy sitting in a car outside. Keene and Jameson have been spotted with Amy.’

John started the car and, with a glance in the mirrors, pulled into the stream of traffic. ‘What about Lovell and the seventh guy?’

‘Lovell’s not in play as far as we can tell, and the seventh is definitely out of the country.’ McKay answered smartly. ‘Sam tracked the phone number to the middle of no-where. We think they’re on a boat and moving. Homeworld is trying to get the location locked down.’

So they could blow it up, Cam thought idly. He could go with that plan.

‘Our people?’ John checked.

‘They are in position.’ Daniel answered. ‘We’re landing on the roof of the coffee shop so we’ll be in position in a moment too.’

Cam figured landing took all McKay’s attention and Daniel had stepped in.

‘We’re almost there.’ John said. ‘ETA ten minutes.’

‘Bet you’re wishing you had a puddle jumper now.’ McKay gloated.

John hummed under his breath. ‘You parked her at an angle again, didn’t you, Rodney?’

There was silence at the other end of the connection.

‘There is no way you know that for certain.’ McKay huffed out indignantly.

John grinned. ‘Sheppard out.’ He tapped his ear-piece and Cam did the same.

‘How do you know?’ Cam asked bluntly.

‘He always parks her at an angle,’ John demonstrated with one hand, ‘unless he kind of crash lands and parks her straight by accident.’

‘And you park her straight all the time?’ Cam asked amused.

John shot a smile in his direction. ‘I fly the puddle jumper with my mind, Mitchell.’

OK, so John always parked her straight. Cam had a feeling John would do so without the mind control.

‘Are you going to be OK with Amy’s questions and us listening in?’

Cam stiffened at the question but he knew why John had asked it and he’d do the same in his position. ‘I think so.’

‘When I, uh…’ John lifted a hand from the steering wheel and made an awkward gesture, ‘did this whole, you know, with, um, Nancy, I found not saying anything was an option.’

Nancy must be John’s ex, Cam mused. ‘A good option?’

‘She didn’t hit me.’

Cam smiled and something in him eased. He knew what John was not saying; that if anything got too uncomfortable, Cam could keep quiet.

They found a parking spot across the street. Before they left the car they tapped their ear-pieces back on and did a communications check. They were on an obscure channel which McKay had come up with. Everything worked. Their people were all in place.

It was time.

Next: Mayday, Chapters 17-22