Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Chapter 5

The hum of the engine and the faint muted hiss of wind around the plane were the only sounds in the cockpit. John appreciated the almost reverent quiet that Mitchell had fallen into as John’s mind had been occupied with his brother and the agreement to go to the board meeting.

What the hell had he agreed to, John wondered, ignoring the faint undertow of panic that accompanied the thought. He had a sense that somewhere in the afterlife his father was laughing at him.

His father had always wanted him in the business. He’d had it planned out from the moment of John’s birth – possibly conception but as John had no memory of that time it was just an educated guess. One of his earliest memories was of sitting in his father’s lap in the study, the massive desk going on forever in front of him…and holding onto a toy plane with all his meagre strength. John couldn’t remember a time when he and his father hadn’t been in conflict over John’s desire to fly.

Poor Dave, John mused thoughtfully. Maybe his kid brother might had had a chance of some kind of positive childhood relationship with their father if John hadn’t been so damn stubborn about flying or his father hadn’t been so damn stubborn that John would go into the business. But Patrick Sheppard had been so completely focused on bending John to his will that Dave had spent his formative years ignored by their father for the most part.

Of course, things had only gotten worse when their Mom had died. John only had fleeting moments of the accident before the impact of a tree – the sense of speed, the twists and turn of the road, his mother’s panic. He remembered coming to; Dave creepily silent in the back and his mother trapped in the driver’s seat. Eleven years old, he had dragged an unconscious Dave out to the side of the road and gone back for his mother, only there had been an explosion, heat and force, the sensation of slamming into asphalt and all the breath leaving his body…

The plane shuddered.

John eased his hold on the yoke, checked the instruments again to make sure he was on course, and almost smiled as Mitchell shifted for the first time. ‘You want to take over for a while?’

Mitchell’s hands were on the controls so fast, John grinned again. He felt the adjustment under his own hands as Mitchell found the balance.

‘I have control.’ Mitchell said.

John removed his hands. He rolled his shoulders and stretched.

His Mom’s death had signalled the end of any kind of detente between John and his father. It had been a fast slide to the rebellion over Harvard; the yelling over John signing up to ROTC and the Air Force. The first few years he’d been deployed he’d stayed in touch, gone home during his leave, sat through his father’s attempts to win him back to the business…and met Nancy.

John remains convinced that his father had approved of his marriage only because he had believed Nancy would eventually persuade John to leave the Air Force. Of course, she hadn’t. Flying came first. Flying had always come first for John.

Until Atlantis.

John’s lips twisted wryly and he dragged his thoughts back to his father. His smile fell away as he recalled their last meeting. He’d had a furious argument with his father over accepting the exile to Antarctica. His father had been livid that John had chosen flying again over the honourable discharge that had been offered to him. It had been their worst fight ever; every harsh word had been spoken, every barb flung. John could hear the echo of his father’s voice ringing in his ears, blaming John for his mother’s death…

John’s jaw clenched tightly enough that his face ached with it. He took a deep breath.

Really, his father’s words had only confirmed what John believed himself but they’d hurt him deeply. Dave had come along when John had been packing his things, and tried to talk him out of leaving; tried to talk him into staying and joining the business, leaving the Air Force just like his Dad and John had lost it. He’d had walked out, swearing he would never speak to his family again. In hindsight, since he’d learned of his father’s death, John regretted sticking so rigidly to his decision; wondered sometimes if he and his father couldn’t have come to some kind of reconciliation if John had just picked up the phone during his rare trips back to Earth.

But then, he couldn’t help thinking his father would never have given up on trying to get John into the business. John thought the inheritance was a final attempt from his father beyond the grave and he couldn’t help think he – and Dave – had fallen for his old man’s tactics. Because, of course, Dave would never take John’s inheritance, knowing it was their father’s wish for John to have it, and that left John part-owner of a business he never wanted. It wasn’t Dave’s fault; none of the craziness between John and their father had ever been Dave’s fault.

And John was suddenly furious with himself. He had abandoned Dave when he’d walked out; left him behind. No wonder Dave had cold with him at the wake. But John’s anger shifted abruptly to his father for screwing with Dave’s inheritance, because Dave deserved to get control outright. So, John would suck it up and do what he needed to do to make sure Dave’s position as CEO was secure, which apparently included going to an incredibly boring meeting and making nice with various board members, assuring them that Dave had John’s full support and always would.

Crap.

‘She handles like a dream.’ Mitchell said.

John slid a look at him. Mitchell was happily engrossed in examining the instruments, his hands steady on the yoke. John was swamped by a rush of gratitude that the other man was with him; that there was someone else there to take him out of the memories and the anger, to stop him obsessing about it. He figured he was probably performing a similar service for Mitchell and the wedding that never was.

‘You thought of a name for her yet?’ Mitchell asked.

‘Maggie.’ John said impulsively. ‘She feels like a Maggie to me.’ For a moment, John flashed back to the first days on Atlantis; to Aiden Ford sitting beside him and talking of naming things, so young and enthusiastic and…lost. He closed his eyes briefly to shake the image and belatedly realised that Mitchell was talking again.

‘OK, very Simpsons but OK.’ Mitchell nodded. ‘This is so cool.’

‘Very cool.’ John reached for the water he’d stashed by his seat. He took a long swig and pushed it back into its hiding place.

‘So, I’ve been thinking…’ Mitchell began.

‘You know no good ever came from those words.’ John said dryly.

Mitchell laughed. ‘That’s because you usually hear them from McKay and I usually hear them from Jackson.’

‘God knows what they’re going to get up to together.’ John said, folding his arms and wondering what was going on in Atlantis with McKay and Jackson. He thought they would be lucky if the two of them didn’t blow up the city.

‘Leave.’ Mitchell stressed. ‘We’re on leave. They are someone else’s problem for a whole two weeks.’

Although not really. Both of them didn’t say it but they knew if there was trouble, both of them would head back without a single second thought.

‘Lorne’s.’ John said lightly, pretending otherwise anyway. He waited a beat. ‘We’re going to have to get him a present to make it up to him.’

Mitchell laughed again. ‘Getting back to my original point…’

‘You were thinking.’

‘Of swapping stories.’ Mitchell continued.

‘Swapping stories?’ John questioned, not sure if he was completely behind the idea. He was more comfortable with the thought that he didn’t have to talk about anything, not the Stargate or Atlantis, not his family or his service in the Air Force for two whole weeks; didn’t have to think about what had gone wrong, what he’d lost.

‘For flight time.’ There was a hint of challenge in Mitchell’s easy smile.

John felt his competitive spirit stir. He tilted his head and gestured for Mitchell to continue, intrigued.

‘OK, so this was how I’m thinking it’ll work.’ Mitchell suggested quickly. ‘One of us picks a story – any story about any mission we’ve personally been involved with in some way during our time in the Stargate programme…’

‘But not before?’ John clarified.

‘Not before,’ Mitchell confirmed, ‘the other has to come up with a story that has a similar theme, say like clones or time travel or…’

‘Heroically saving the day.’ John suggested sarcastically as Mitchell paused.

‘Exactly.’ Mitchell grinned, seemingly ignoring the sarcasm in favour of arguing for his idea. ‘After hearing both stories, we confer and agree who wins.’ He adjusted course slightly. ‘Winner gets eighty per cent of the flight time the next day.’

‘Sixty.’ John said automatically, knowing that it was as good as agreeing to the idea.

‘Seventy.’ Mitchell countered.

‘Sixty-five.’

‘Deal.’ Mitchell looked entirely too pleased with himself which meant sixty-five was his aim.

‘Loser gets to pick the initial story next time,’ John added hurriedly, ‘and can demand a rematch.’

‘Seems fair.’ Mitchell said. ‘I’d shake your hand on it but I’m a little busy keeping us in the air.’

John laughed and shifted position. The seats were comfortable; a blessing because they were going to be spending a lot of time in them.

‘You want to go first?’ Mitchell asked.

‘Hmmm?’

‘With the story?’ Mitchell said. ‘I’m thinking it’s only fair since Maggie is your plane but I could…’

‘No, I’ll go first.’ Like he was going to pass up an advantage. John frowned. Had he just agreed to tell a story?

‘So…’ Mitchell pressed impatiently.

‘I’m thinking.’ John said, evasively. ‘It’s an important decision.’

‘Maybe we should add a time limit into the rules.’ Mitchell muttered.

John spared a second to glare at him and let his mind skate over five years of missions. Something fun, something that involved no-one dying or getting seriously injured, John thought. They had to have had some of those missions, right? Maybe at the beginning? Or maybe not. Waking the Wraith. Shooting Sumner. Shooting…oh.

John let a smug smile stretch across his lips. ‘It was a couple of days after we got to Atlantis. It was chaos. The Athosians were living with us, stuff stacked up in corridors while we cleared areas, ten thousand year old dead plants everywhere.’

He hadn’t let himself think about those days for a long time.

John gazed out at the sky. ‘So, Rodney signs up to be the first person to get the gene therapy and it works. He has this device, a small green oval thing that he wants to test and he does. It’s a personal shield which makes him invulnerable.’

‘I remember reading about those.’ Mitchell murmured.

‘He walks right up to me and asks me to shoot him.’ John smiled at the memory; at Rodney’s glee as he coaxed him. ‘And I’m thinking why not? I mean, don’t get me wrong; I liked Rodney, but most of what I’d seen had been what people usually see with him.’ He waved a hand. ‘You know…’ he didn’t detail out Rodney’s faults; the prickly arrogance, the hypochondria, the egocentric view of the world.

‘Yeah.’ Mitchell commented dryly. ‘I know.’

‘But there he was asking me to shoot him.’ John smiled. ‘So I shoot him in the leg.’

‘You shot him?’ Mitchell laughed.

‘Only he has the personal shield and it doesn’t hurt him at all.’ John grinned as he recalled the moment. ‘So we decide to throw him off a balcony.’ And that had been sheer fun; both of them had loved that. ‘Elizabeth’s face was a picture.’ John’s voice cut off immediately. He missed Elizabeth; felt guilty that he couldn’t save her.

‘I think I’d pay good money to see it again.’ Mitchell filled in the sudden silence.

John regrouped and took a breath. ‘Anyway, Rodney couldn’t get the shield to come off. He couldn’t drink and he couldn’t eat. So he’s walking around telling everyone he’s going to die.’ He wet his lips. ‘And then, Jinto, one of the Athosian kids goes missing and people are seeing shadows in the corridor. Rodney and I track him to this room where we discover Jinto who has accidentally let out this big shadowy energy monster.’

‘The original bogeyman.’ Mitchell murmured.

‘So Rodney works out that the trap gives off some kind of energy pattern that attracts the monster only someone had to stay and press the right buttons.’ John continued, his mind back in the Ancient lab and the trap. ‘And unsurprisingly, Rodney’s shield decides in that moment to stop working and falls off him.’

‘So I guess you volunteered to press the buttons.’ Mitchell commented.

‘Yeah, but it didn’t work.’ John said. ‘This thing was like a shark; it’s intelligent. But it wants energy so we come up with a plan to send it through the Stargate using one of naquadah generators as bait on a MALP. Only, of course, it doesn’t work.’ He shook his head, remembering the Stargate open and the gate room filling with the black cloud of energy. ‘The energy sucks the energy out of the MALP and it’s just there; going nowhere. I’m thinking how the hell do we stop this…’

John smiled at the memory.

‘And then I see Rodney making his way down into the cloud. He’s wearing the shield but it’s not a guarantee and I know that he knows that if he comes into contact with it, he’ll suffer major electrical burns or die. But he wades in anyway and throws the generator through the Stargate and the energy monster goes with it. When it clears, all we can see is Rodney out cold on the floor of the gate room.’

‘I take it he survived since he’s still with us.’ Mitchell’s tone had a note of respect for Rodney that John hadn’t heard before and he was pleased about that because Rodney deserved respect.

‘He survived.’ John acknowledged. ‘But he risked his life and saved us. And that’s when I knew I’d met the real Rodney McKay.’ The one who had become John’s best friend.

‘It gives me a new perspective on him.’ Mitchell admitted. ‘I mean, objectively I know he’s good at what he does, he has to be otherwise you wouldn’t have him on your team and I’ve seen it for myself on the mission we had together, but…’ he sighed, ‘he isn’t the easiest person to get along with.’

‘No,’ accepts John glibly, ‘but who is?’ But he was pleased that Mitchell saw Rodney in a new light. Rodney would appreciate it even if outwardly he pretended that it didn’t matter what people thought of him.

Mitchell acknowledged that with an incline of his head. He cleared his throat. ‘So, the theme is…’

‘Unexpected heroics.’ John stated firmly.

‘Ah, geez.’ Mitchell looked over at him with a hurt expression. ‘My team is SG1, Sheppard. Heroics are kind of expected behaviour.’

John grinned and pointed at him. ‘Are you forfeiting?’

‘No.’ Mitchell said automatically.

There was silence while Mitchell evidently tried to think of a story.

‘Maybe there should be a time limit.’ John teased when the silence stretched into minutes.

‘Oh, shut up.’ Mitchell laughed. ‘Let me…aha!’ He grinned at John. ‘I know exactly the right story.’

‘I’m all ears.’ John assured him and was surprised to find he meant it. He rarely got time to read the mission reports from the SGC; barely had enough time to write his own and read the Atlantean ones that he had to sign-off.

‘OK,’ Mitchell cleared his throat, ‘so the story takes place soon after we encountered the Ori. The Priors have been coming through the Milky Way gates and starting to convert people. We got an unexpected visitor; a Goa’uld called Nerus. Fat guy. Loved his food. Very excited at meeting Jackson and Teal’c; not so much me.’

‘Makes sense.’ John could hear the insecurity buried under the surface amusement. ‘They had to have had reputations in Goa’uld land by that point.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Mitchell agreed, ‘and I wasn’t surprised that Nerus wondered who the hell I was.’ He lifted a shoulder, dismissing it. ‘Anyway, getting back to the story, he tells us that he has intel. A Prior has arrived on a Jaffa held world and is doing some kind of funky thing to the gate.’

‘Funky thing.’ John repeated. ‘Is that an approved technical term?’

Mitchell shot him a look.

John held up a hand and gestured for him to continue.

‘Sam arrives courtesy of General O’Neill with a large nuke and off we go to stop the Prior.’ Mitchell continued. ‘Only, of course, it doesn’t work.’

It took John a moment to recognise his own words parroted back at him. ‘I’m shocked.’ He placed a hand dramatically on his chest and pouted with false sympathy.

Mitchell laughed. ‘We give the Prior enough energy that he can connect with the Ori galaxy and they start sending through the parts to build a Supergate.’

‘Really?’ John frowned. He was sure the Supergate came later; much later. ‘I didn’t realise they’d gotten a Supergate up that early.’

‘They didn’t thanks to the unexpected heroics of one particular person.’ Mitchell said. ‘We’re all wondering what the hell to do. Sam and Jackson are arguing. Vala’s trying to get our attention and we’re not paying her any because, frankly, at this point, she’s still mostly the annoying thief who attached herself to Jackson against his will and who we have to put up with.’

‘Let me guess how this ends.’ John murmured, because he did remember some of the story since he’d met Vala. He folded his arms over his chest.

‘Vala decides to take matters into her own hands. She rings onto a nearby Jaffa scout ship, sends the stunned Jaffa back to us. Flies into the space between two parts and shorts the whole Supergate out. And in saving our galaxy from an imminent Ori invasion, she gets sucked into the Ori galaxy.’ Mitchell grinned at him.

John knew Mitchell thought he’d won. ‘If I recall correctly, Vala wasn’t on your team at the time.’

‘Was Rodney a member of yours two days in?’ Mitchell countered.

John grinned. ‘First person I asked.’

Mitchell’s smug grin dimmed but he shrugged. ‘OK, but unexpected heroics leading to galaxy saving from an army of Ori worshippers, I believe trumps unexpected heroics saving your expedition from a single scary monster.’

‘I concede.’ John allowed. He gestured at Mitchell. ‘And since you’re flying so much tomorrow, I’ll take Maggie back now.’

Mitchell wasn’t surprised and handed over control graciously. John settled back into the rhythm of flying.

‘It’s weird.’ Mitchell commented after a while. ‘I haven’t thought back to those days in a long time.’

‘Me either.’ John admitted.

‘I didn’t have a team back then.’ Mitchell complained plaintively. ‘Jackson was only around because he missed his ride to Atlantis and tripped over the Ori. Teal’c was hanging out because the Jaffa voted for Gerek. Sam was ordered to participate in the mission because of the nuke and Vala was there in case her bond thing with Jackson went loopy.’ He sighed. ‘I turn up on my first official day on SG1 thinking I’m joining them and get told by Landry; here Mitchell, you’re leading SG1 and by the way, you’re the sole member; go choose your team.’

‘My first official day, I woke up the Wraith.’ John replied.

‘OK,’ Mitchell conceded, ‘admittedly, if you ever decide to tell the first day story, you may have an advantage.’ He paused. ‘Unless you want to tell it now?’

‘Another time.’ John evaded. He didn’t plan to talk about it ever. His eyes caught on something in the sky. ‘Hey, isn’t that…’

‘Another plane?’ Mitchell twisted to look. ‘Looks like it. I thought air control said we had clear skies.’

‘They did.’ John frowned. He saw Mitchell patting his pocket where his side-weapon was hidden. John’s was stowed under his seat.

Neither of them relaxed until the plane disappeared.

The rest of the journey to Florida was uneventful and they landed in Jacksonville, tired but pleased with their maiden flight. The rental car was waiting for them as Dave had promised and they drove out to the hotel where Sheppard International kept a suite for visiting executives. Checked in, showered and changed, they headed to the beach.

Neither of them had dressed for swimming; Mitchell wore boots, jeans and a t-shirt, and John had settled on a white button down over khaki pants and flip-flops. Mitchell found a good spot to sit where they could watch the waves until the sunset. He had the look of someone who rarely saw the ocean; reverence and awe playing across his tanned face which was turned worshipfully up to the sun. John offered to walk a short distance to a beach bar and buy some beers.

John waited for someone to take his order and his mind wandered to the competition he and Mitchell had going for flight time, the story he had picked. Before he was aware of what he was doing, he had his cell out and he had dialled Rodney.

‘Oh my God, what’s happened? Are you in trouble? Did someone shoot at you? Is the plane broken? If you give me a minute…’

‘Rodney!’ John barked and turned away from a table of interested bystanders. ‘I’m fine. I’m just…’ What the hell was he doing? John searched for the term Mitchell had used. ‘I’m just checking in.’

‘Well, we’ve started the repairs and…’

‘Checking in with you, Rodney.’ John said hurriedly. ‘Not the city.’

There was a brief pause.

‘OK, have you been taken over by an alien?’ Rodney asked, worriedly.

John rolled his eyes. He knew there was a reason he didn’t usually call. ‘I can hang up if you want.’

‘No, no!’ Rodney replied. ‘I’m just…surprised?’

John picked up a cardboard bar mat and examined it carefully.

‘I’m fine.’ Rodney said hesitantly. ‘Busy with the repairs, of course, so spending quality time with Radek and the SGC sent us complete morons so…and you don’t need to know about that, do you? Oh, Jennifer’s gone to see her father, and I think she was hoping I would go with her but you know, hello, repairs? Um…Teyla’s good. She and Kanaan are looking forward to us going back.’

The bartender turned up in front of John and John indicated two beers in sign language, gesturing an apology for using his phone at the same time. His eyes caught on a man in a business suit at the end of the bar. Suits were definitely not the dress code and John’s internal warning system started to tingle.

‘We haven’t seen much of Ronon. He’s spending time with Teal’c bonding over knives or wrestling or something.’ Rodney continued, ending in a rush. ‘You?’

‘Good. I’m good.’ John kind of meant it too; the oppressive tiredness that had been pressing down on him seemed better somehow. He wondered idly if he was overreacting to the Suit. He’d been in combat a long time and they warned for paranoia in returning to civilian situations. He shifted to look out at the ocean. ‘Hey, if you had to choose a story to tell about us that would beat anything Mitchell and his team have done in the last five years, what would you choose?’

‘Why?’

The two beer bottles were plonked down on the bar in front of him and John handed over his money. ‘Mitchell and I kind of have a competition thing going on. Whoever tells the best story gets the majority of the flight time the next day.’ He could picture Rodney rolling his eyes.

‘Seriously? You’re actually competing over who flies?’

‘I’m already down one.’ John told him as he wound the fingers of his free hand around the bottles’ necks and picked them up. ‘It’s a matter of team pride, Rodney.’

‘What story did you tell him?’

‘The one about you and your first Hail Mary.’ John answered immediately, knowing Rodney would get the reference. His eyes strayed to the Suit as John walked past. The Suit was ordering a drink; maybe he was just a travelling businessman who’d had a hard day.

‘That’s a good story.’ Rodney confirmed with a sniff. ‘How did it lose?’

‘Vala saved the galaxy.’ John said, fairly sure if anyone overheard the comment it would be dismissed as nonsense. His feet sank into sand; the heat conducted through the thin rubber soles and he winced.

‘Hmmm.’ Rodney huffed out. ‘Tell him about when you turned into a bug.’

‘I don’t talk about that, Rodney.’ John reminded him as he stopped walking, catching sight of Mitchell. He didn’t want Mitchell to overhear him plotting behind his back.

‘But it’s gold.’ Rodney pointed out. ‘I’m betting Mitchell’s never turned into a bug.’

John grimaced. Bug story then, but it could wait until tomorrow. ‘Thanks; got to go.’

‘Oh, before you go, can you give me your plane registration?’ Rodney slid in almost casually.

Like John didn’t know what Rodney would do with that information. ‘No.’

‘But…’

‘You’ll have to find some other way to stalk me, Rodney.’ John said, cheerfully. ‘I’m hanging up now.’ He snapped his phone shut with a smile.

Chapter 6

‘You’re a sadist.’ Cam declared and lurched to a halt in front of the polished glass doors of the hotel. He bent over and tried to catch his breath.

John was busy stretching their morning run out of his muscles and simply grinned at him. Cam followed his example. He was going to be feeling every step of the four mile jog as it was without adding muscle strain to the damage.

‘If you’re going to be too tired to fly later…’ John teased.

Cam’s answering grin was warm and easy. ‘Not a chance.’

John smirked and moved into another limber stretch that had Cam grimacing and wondering how John managed it. He was pleased though to see the other man looking relaxed and rested for all they were both dripping sweat and flushed from their run. He thought maybe John had actually slept the night before.

One woman walking by nudged her friend and adjusted her sunglasses to get a better look at them. Cam was aware they made a picture; both of them weren’t exactly ugly looking and although they were both in sweats, their t-shirts were mostly plastered to their torsos. Cam hid his grin at John’s complete obliviousness. Or maybe not obliviousness, Cam revised as he realised John was watching in the polished door and smirking at being ogled.

‘Boys.’ The woman said appreciatively.

John’s head swivelled round. He smiled charmingly at the passing women. ‘Ladies.’

Cam followed suit with a smile and nodded. The women continued walking but they smiled back at them over their shoulders. It suddenly occurred to Cam that John might want some female company on their trip at some point. After all, John hadn’t just ended an engagement, was free and single, and was on leave.

Cam nudged John’s shoulder. ‘You want to go after them and invite them for breakfast?’

John shook his head. ‘Nope.’ He stopped abruptly and stared at Cam. ‘Unless you…’ he gestured towards where the women were disappearing around a corner.

‘Oh, hell, no!’ Cam held his hands up. ‘I’m officially taking myself out of the game but I’m OK if you want…’

‘I’m good.’ John stated without expanding. ‘So…breakfast?’

‘Shower first.’ Cam said, plucking his t-shirt away from his body. He followed John inside.

There was a guy in an atrocious shirt sat in the lobby. Cam made him immediately as someone out of place. He wore the wrong clothes for a hotel of its calibre and was desperately hiding behind what seemed to be an upside down French newspaper. More than that, Cam was certain that he had seen the guy in the diner John had dragged him into the night before on the basis that he hadn’t had a real American burger and fries forever. Cam had found himself nostalgically enjoying the same along with a root float. The guy had been sat two booths behind John.

Cam was figuring what to do when he looked over at John. The dangerous light in the other man’s hazel eyes was enough to cool Cam’s blood. John had obviously made the guy too and he was staring at him as though he’d already planned how to get rid of the body.

Cam stepped directly into John’s eye-line. He signalled for them to continue to the elevator. John nodded unhappily and said nothing. They waited until they were in the suite before talking.

‘The guy with the shirt…’ John began.

‘Is tailing us.’ Cam completed. ‘Yeah, got that. Saw him in the diner last night.’

‘He was at the beach bar too.’ John raked a hand through his hair. ‘Damn.’

‘We need to call it in.’ Cam reached for his phone.

John grimaced but motioned for Cam to get on with it.

Cam’s phone chose that moment to ring loudly. It was Sam. He mouthed that at John and answered. ‘Hey, we were…’

‘So, I have Malcolm on my other line saying that you’re about to kill one of his people?’ Sam cut him off with a tone somewhere between aggrieved and amused.

Malcolm. Agent Barrett. NID. Cam made the connection and let out a relieved breath. He leaned his hip against the desk. ‘The idiot downstairs is NID?’

John’s eyes widened and he mimed that he was going to take a shower. Or that he was washing his hands of the entire sorry mess but as he disappeared toward his room, Cam was inclined to go with his first thought.

Cam was annoyed at the NID guy; annoyed that their leave had been interrupted; annoyed that having just gotten the tired look out of John’s eyes, he could see it there again. Operation Get Sheppard Talking was going well; the story thing was, in Cam’s opinion, inspired. He didn’t think John would talk about any of the really bad stuff – the dodge on the first day story had verified that – but maybe talking about some of any of it would be good enough to help John in some way.

‘So I can reassure Malcolm you’re not planning on killing his guy?’ Sam was all the way amused now.

‘Why were we being followed?’ Cam retorted.

‘There’s chatter about the two of you connected to both the Trust and the Lucien Alliance.’ Sam said. ‘You’re both high profile targets and you’re travelling together so I don’t need to tell you that made you a bigger target.’ She sighed. ‘Malcolm said one of the NID intelligence analysts thought there was something unusual in the chatter but his superiors disagreed so he struck out on his own and…well, you made him so he called Malcolm.’

Cam rubbed his forehead. That the guy downstairs wasn’t an agent at least explained how bad he was at camouflage.

‘Look, I’m going to look into the chatter.’ Sam said seriously. ‘If this guy thought he saw something maybe he did, but it’s more likely this was the usual talk about the two of you.’

‘You do know that it’s not exactly comforting that the Trust and the Alliance usually talk about us, right?’ Cam drawled.

‘Just…enjoy your leave.’ Sam replied, and she sounded tired; like she had been woken up at an ungodly hour by Barrett to prevent Cam and John beating up one of his people. ‘And don’t kill the guy in the lobby.’

‘You need to tell Barrett his guy’s an idiot.’

‘An idiot who realised that he’d been made.’ Sam countered. ‘You and John do know how not to give away your own position, don’t you?’

There was a dial tone before he could respond, and once he got past the surge of annoyance and the thought that Sam had spent way too much time learning command at the hands of Jack O’Neill, he appreciated her point. Well, what was done was done and Cam was more interested in what to do next.

Cam scrawled a message for John, explaining both the situation and what he was about to do, and left it in plain sight. He went back down to the lobby. He needed to be quick if he was going to catch the guy. He took the stairs and ignored the twinges of pain in his bad knee as he made it to the lobby just in time to see the guy closing his phone and looking down at his feet in a dejected way.

Cam walked over swiftly and pinned on his best ‘I come in peace’ smile. ‘Hey.’

‘Oh God.’ The NID analyst was young; pale brown hair cut short to try and hide the bald spot forming. He carried some extra weight not quite hidden by the yellow and green Hawaiian shirt and dark pants. His brown eyes were apprehensive.

Cam stuck his hand out. ‘Cam Mitchell.’

‘Yes, Colonel.’ The guy looked at him dubiously as he shook hands. ‘I know who you were. I’m sorry for…’ he gestured at Cam, ‘and I’ll be out of your hair very soon.’ Chagrin danced across his face and Cam bet anything that Barrett had given Analyst Guy a blistering earful.

‘Way I see it you were trying to help us.’ Cam said sincerely. ‘How about breakfast as a thank you?’

Analyst Guy looked shell-shocked. He pointed at Cam. ‘You want to have breakfast with me?’

Cam continued smiling and reached out to pat the guy’s shoulder. ‘Come on. We didn’t want to keep John waiting.’ He turned and walked away, and as he predicted, the guy followed obediently.

They rode the elevator back up to the suite in nervous silence and Cam was relieved to find John dressed in his usual jeans and a white t-shirt if sporting damp hair, waiting for them in the living area, flipping through channels on the large screen TV. John got to his feet with what Cam was sure was John’s ‘I will indulge the natives’ look.

Cam clapped his hands together. ‘How about you guys order breakfast and I’ll go shower?’ He didn’t wait for them to answer but made his escape.

He dove into his room, stripping his clothes quickly as he made his way into the adjoining bathroom. He stood under the rush of hot water for a full minute, letting the warmth of it ease out the aches in his muscles before he hurried through the rest of the shower and a quick shave. He figured John was unhappy enough with him for inviting the guy to breakfast without adding leaving them alone for a long time to the crime.

Cam dried off with haste and dressed in jeans and a blue Air Force t-shirt. Twenty-five minutes had passed. He walked back into the living area and blinked.

A waiter was finishing laying out the breakfast on the small dining table. Analyst Guy was already seated in one of the chairs, a happy expectant look on his face. John had taken the chair on the opposite side. He signed the bill and slipped the waiter a tip. Cam smiled at the exiting waiter and took the empty seat at the table between the two men.

‘Wow, this looks great.’ Cam murmured as he took off the metal cover and looked down at the waffles, eggs and bacon.

John waved at their guest. ‘Stan here recommended it.’

Stan. Their NID analyst had a name.

Stan smiled shyly. ‘I want to thank you for the invitation.’

‘No problem.’ John said. He slid a look in Cam’s direction and raised an eyebrow. Yes, John was not happy at Cam’s unilateral decision.

‘Still, I interrupted your leave and…’ Stan blushes, ‘and probably worried you for no reason, and I am sorry about that.’

John slid the rack over to Stan. ‘Toast?’

Cam hastily swallowed his bacon and reached for the coffee pot. ‘Like I said downstairs, you were only trying to help us, right?’

‘That’s right, although as Agent Barrett pointed out, I might not have exactly gone about it in the right way.’ Stan sighed. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and waved a large hand at them. ‘I thought…well, it didn’t matter what I thought.’

Cam gestured. ‘We disagree.’

Stan was surprised enough to stop eating.

‘We’re very interested in what you discovered.’ Cam expanded mildly, aiming to keep things casual. He smiled to take the sting out of revealing his real reason for inviting Stan to breakfast.

‘Call us curious.’ John added and popped a piece of bread into his mouth. His posture suggested he was enjoying a lazy holiday breakfast but Cam recognised it for the illusion it was; he also knew that John knew why Cam invited the guy to breakfast and was on board.

Stan took another bite of his food and nodded. ‘You know how it works right?’

‘Vaguely.’ John said, cutting up his bacon and gesturing with the knife. ‘Why don’t you explain it?’

‘Our operatives and Homeworld’s are obviously tracking and infiltrating Trust and Alliance networks. They gather audio or text intelligence and send it to my team. Well, I say my team, I mean the team I work with; they’re not really my team.’

‘So, you get the intelligence…’ Cam encouraged gently, sipping his coffee.

‘And we look for patterns, for watch words, for names obviously, that kind of thing.’ Stan continued. He broke off to drink down some orange juice.

‘Like a giant puzzle.’ John offered.

‘Exactly.’ Stan beamed at him. ‘You get one piece of information in one place and another some way else but it’s finding what goes with what that’s the hard part.’ He began eating again, swiping a large chunk of bacon through the split brilliant yellow yolk of his egg. ‘Anyway, as you probably both know your names are on the watch list.’

‘Because of our relative positions.’ Cam contributed. He cleared his plate and sat back with his coffee, trying not to rush Stan into getting to the point.

‘Exactly.’ Stan shoved more food in his mouth, chews fast and swallowed. ‘You, Colonel Mitchell, are often mentioned by the Lucien Alliance although rarely by the Trust.’

John shot Cam an inquiring look.

‘I’ve tangled with the Alliance a couple of times.’ Cam said modestly. He was saving the story of his undercover work for when he needed the flight time.

John smiled as though he understood exactly what Cam was thinking and picked up his coffee. Stan coughed discreetly and they both turned their attention back to him.

‘Now usually we didn’t hear much chatter about you, Colonel Sheppard. Both the Trust and the Lucien Alliance have placed Atlantis on their to-do list but it’s not a priority, and the Trust has been smarting for a while about their last plan to blow up the city not working.’

‘Well, I know I feel better.’ John said sarcastically, over the rim of his coffee cup.

‘We do know Sheppard International have been a target for the Trust in the last couple of years.’ Stan continued.

John tensed and Cam sat forward to draw Stan’s attention away from him.

‘Oh?’ Cam murmured.

‘Control of major corporations has always been their strategy.’ Stan pushed his clean plate away and picked up his juice. ‘If they control the money, they control the power.’

‘And they want control of Sheppard International?’ John checked. His tone was lazy and he slouched back in his chair but Cam wasn’t fooled. John was the equivalent of a panther playing possum with the oblivious prey which had stumbled into its midst.

‘Of course, they never achieved it while your father was alive.’ Stan answered. ‘He wouldn’t give up ownership of the company and he had a very good security team.’

‘And now?’ John pressed and Cam knew he was thinking about the rumbling Dave mentioned at breakfast the previous day.

Stan finally picked up on John’s unease and hurried to reply. ‘Well, we think your father’s will was designed to ensure control would remain with your family, but also to provide your brother with the added protection of your, uh, involvement. We’re fairly certain that your father was aware there was a threat.’

Cam got it. Dave could never be swayed by the Trust as long as he’s reliant on John for control, and he could never be threatened into complying with the Trust without attracting the attention of John who had the weight of the Air Force and the SGC behind him. He wondered if Patrick Sheppard did it to protect the company or to protect his youngest son. He feared from the expression that flitted across John’s face that he knew which John believed.

‘The company remains a target but it is more difficult for them to acquire control.’ Stan patted his lips with his napkin. ‘Anyway, the chatter I heard isn’t the usual.’

Cam’s reminded of why Stan was eating with them. ‘In what way?’

‘It’s like the Trust and the Alliance are talking to each other about you both.’ Stan blurted out.

Cam and John exchanged a concerned look.

‘What do you mean?’ John asked.

‘Well, the SGC informed us, you were travelling together so I wasn’t surprised when I saw both your names mentioned together in a Trust communiqué on SG personnel movements with a notation beside your names indicating your first location, here.’ Stan explained. ‘But then I saw the exact same phrase crop up in an Alliance discussion and again, they had your location.’

‘And that’s unusual?’ Cam checked. ‘For the same thing to crop up?’

‘Not really,’ Stan admitted with a sigh, ‘it’s quite usual for the same intelligence to appear although not with the same speed.’

‘You said the exact same phrase appeared.’ John stated thoughtfully.

Stan nodded approvingly as though John had answered a question correctly. Cam was a beat behind in understanding. The exact same phrase indicated a single source, or a common language for discussion. Stan was right; it possibly indicated that the Trust and the Lucien Alliance were talking to each other about him and John, or that one was used as the source for the other. And that freaked Cam out more than he wanted to admit.

‘It’s one single phrase; five words; same notation on location.’ Stan recited. ‘Which was why everyone else believes that it’s not enough to make a determination of any collusion or potential threat.’

Yet.

The word hung silently over the table.

John smiled grimly. ‘Well, we appreciate the heads-up, Stan.’

‘No problem.’ Stan grinned widely.

John got to his feet and Stan belatedly realised it was a signal for him to get to his. Cam followed them to the door, listening in amusement at John’s patter that he was sure Stan understood but that they need to get moving for the day and they didn’t want to keep him from his work. Just before the door, John moved to a side-table and scrawled his cell number on a pad of paper. He ripped it off and handed it to Stan with one hand even as the other opened the suite door to usher Stan out.

‘If you see anything else, don’t hesitate to call.’ John smiled at Stan as charmingly as he had done at the ladies after their run.

Stan blushed and took the number. ‘Thank you.’

Cam shook Stan’s hand, thanked him again and a moment later the door was closed.

‘I need to call Dave.’ John said shortly. He whirled back into the living room, grabbed his cell from the coffee table and dialled. He greeted his brother as he headed into the privacy of his bedroom.

Cam checked the clock, winced as he calculated the time difference and called Sam anyway. He updated her briskly. Sam acknowledged the issue and promised again to check everything out herself. She grumbled at her second early wake-up call of the day but he could hear the sleep clearing from her voice and knew she would be on the case when she got to the SGC.

John came back out as Cam snapped his phone shut.

‘OK?’ Cam asked.

John nodded and slumped onto the sofa. ‘I don’t think he took me seriously.’ He shrugged and looked away. Cam figured that John was trying to work out how to protect his brother without giving away the Stargate programme. ‘You call Sam?’

‘Yeah,’ Cam sighed and folded his arms across his chest as he perched on the arm of the sofa at the opposite end from where John was sitting. ‘She’s going to do some digging.’

‘What do you think?’ John asked, pinning Cam with a frank, open stare.

‘I could see why Stan’s superiors thought he was overreacting; one phrase, just our location, no stated threat.’ Cam thought it through out loud. ‘Can’t say I’m thrilled at the idea of the Trust and the Alliance having the same source but that’s preferable to them beginning to work together.’

‘You want to go off the grid?’ John made the suggestion casually.

Cam had no doubt that John could make them disappear. He’d seen John’s file once, kind of by accident, but Cam remembered enough to remember the huge swathes of blacked out information that spoke of secret and classified missions. He suspected John was Special Forces before he ended up in Antarctica, but Cam was not asking and he knew well enough that John would never tell.

‘Plan B?’ Cam replied. He was willing to wait on Sam and see what her verdict was. Plus if there was a threat, the SGC would take them off the grid officially.

John nodded slowly but Cam thought maybe John would prefer to go off grid immediately.

‘You sure?’ Cam checked. Because it was their vacation not a mission and he wanted John to enjoy it, not to feel like he had to be checking over their shoulders constantly.

There was a long pause and Cam was beginning to wonder if it was a good sign that John was taking the time to consider their options or not when John gave a decisive nod.

‘Plan B.’ John cast a look at the clock. ‘And we really should get moving.’ He was on his feet and headed to the bedroom before Cam could say anything else.

Cam made his way to his own room and started packing but his mind drifted back to the intelligence chatter. He hoped they were doing the right thing; that Stan’s assumption that it was a sign of tangible threat against them was nothing more than an overreaction. He thought about how John’s first instinct was to take them off the grid and mused over the fact that John had some damn good instincts and maybe they should be listening to them more.

He stood holding his spare jeans in his hands and continuing to debate with himself when John rapped on the open door behind him.

‘Ready?’ John raised his eyebrows as Cam gestured with his jeans.

‘Maybe we should go off the grid.’ Cam blurted out.

John rested a shoulder on the jamb and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘What brought this on?’

‘Thinking.’ Cam muttered.

‘Dangerous.’ John smirked. ‘Me too. I mean with the thinking.’

‘And?’ Cam stuffed the jeans into his duffle along with his toiletries kit.

‘I think we should stick to our original plan.’ John said, surprising him.

Cam looked over at him quizzically.

‘Look, my first instinct is always to go off the grid.’ John admitted, gesturing at him awkwardly. ‘Which got me thinking what if someone was expecting that?’

‘You think we’re being set-up.’ Cam realised, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed. It made sense in a bizarre way; the relatively innocuous chatter, Stan’s decision to tail them which someone had to realise they would notice, the conversation with Stan…

‘Truth is we don’t know what’s going on.’ John shrugged loosely. ‘But if we are being set-up seems like a good idea to do the opposite of what they’re hoping we’ll do.’

The amused resignation in John’s voice spoke to his belief that they were being set-up as though it was inevitable. Cam thought out loud that they should probably call Sam and get her to check out Stan.

‘Already did.’ John said.

Cam sighed. With John’s request for Stan to be checked out, they’d done as much as they could for the day and Cam had been looking forward to flying since he won the story competition the day before.

He pushed off the bed and grabbed his duffle. ‘Well, we have a flight to Panama City to make,’ he declared, ‘of which I have sixty-five per cent of the flight time so we should get going.’ He grinned at John.

John eased off the door frame. ‘I’ll be flying it tomorrow.’

‘That sounds like fighting talk.’ Cam joked.

John lifted up his own duffle and simply smirked, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

And Cam was suddenly more determined than ever to make sure the threat of impending doom didn’t ruin their holiday. They both needed the downtime too much.

Chapter 7

It was a testament to her strange working patterns that no-one blinked an eye at Sam turning up at the SGC way before her working day was supposed to start. She was tempted to blame Malcolm and would for form’s sake because he was NID, no matter how much their friendship mitigated the organisation he worked for, but it was the second call from Cam that had her climbing out of a comfortable bed, and the third call from John that her deciding to head straight for the SGC rather than choosing to stay at home and work.

She’d long since gotten over sitting in the large leather chair in Landry’s office. Her year in Atlantis had given her confidence in her command abilities and it no longer felt like she was a child playing at being a grown-up. She sank into the leather with a grateful sigh and booted up her laptop. A gate technician – Andrea – brought her coffee and asked if she wanted something from the mess. Sam requested the Danish she liked and more coffee. She started work impatiently.

The email with the latest chatter that had caused the ruckus was in her inbox along with a non-apology from Malcolm. It took her less than a moment to understand why Stan had deduced it deserved attention. The Trust and the Alliance both had the same intelligence in the same format using the same code.

That wasn’t good.

She sucked in a breath and stared at the screen. She swore silently and creatively at Malcolm and the NID. Dismissing Stanley Kymbol’s conclusions that the data was nothing more than a coincidence was short-sighted. The implications given the timing of the data and the phrasing of the code were clear: there was either a single source or a joint operation at play. The thought of the Trust and the Alliance working together sent a shiver down her spine.

Her fingers tapped restlessly against the wood. She’d tangled with both organisations enough in the past that she was fully aware of how ruthless each could be; she could hear the mental echo of a shot that killed a man she had deeply respected, feel the phantom touch of binds around her wrist that kept her prisoner while thousands of Jaffa died slowly thanks to a poison delivered through a stolenStargate.

The two organisations working together to some end involving Cam and John was not something she wanted to truly contemplate. She nodded a thank you to Andrea delivering her make-shift breakfast and reached for the coffee first.

Sam hoped it wasn’t a joint operation; hoped that it was a single source that was feeding the two organisations because she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that it was a coincidence like the guys at the NID. A single source would be easier to track down and simpler to deal with. Another thought occurred to her; that it might be a third party wanting to redirect attention. She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like they didn’t have enough bad guys already. They were still picking up the pieces from the Wraith attack. The Lucien Alliance was gearing up for war. The Trust was a continual pain in the ass. Did she really want to create some unknown other entity too? But she knew it wasn’t a question of creating; it was a question of exploring – and eliminating – the possibilities.

She started her information search on Stanley. She stayed legal on the first sweep, using the access she was granted into federal systems with the care and respect that everyone would expect of Samantha Carter, a decorated Colonel in the United States Air Force and the temporary commander of the SGC.

She found out Stanley went to MIT; he had a degree in Advanced Mathematics and Cryptography. He was in the top three of his class. He had a driving license. He owned a small one-bed apartment in Washington. He came from a small town in Iowa where his parents and two sisters continued to live. He’d worked for the NID since graduation. His employment history showed a solid performer, good at his job, but not one who garnered attention. That he bought a ticket at the airport and flew to Jacksonville one hour after finding the data, informing his superiors and being told to forget about it, was out of character but there was nothing in his immediate information to suggest a cause. He’d bought another ticket barely fifteen minutes before and would be back in Washington before the end of the day. His bank accounts showed no unusual amounts or movement; his credit cards revealed his purchases and his hobbies. He looked normal on the surface.

She started digging.

Her second sweep was not legal, and one that only a few people in her life would not only expect her to perform but anticipate that she would. She hacked into federal systems and databases that she didn’t have access to without a second thought. She made mincemeat of the university’s firewalls and security to uncover Stanley’s academic record and his buried university email account. She plundered Stanley’s bank records back to the moment he opened his account. When the server the credit card company used gave up its secrets with barely a murmur, it made her seriously consider changing brands.

Everything came up blank.

Normal.

An hour after arriving at the SGC, Sam concluded that Stan was a patsy. She called Malcolm and suggested the NID might want to escort Stan home and ask him who he’s trying to impress because Stan would never have gotten on the plane to Jacksonville if someone hadn’t encouraged him; Sam was sure of that. She quickly wrote some code to interrogate the systems for information on Stan’s known associates to see if she could track down who had set him up.

While it performed its job, Sam ate her Danish and went to work on the personal favour John asked of her when he’d called: examining everything about the Trust’s interest in Sheppard International.

Half-way through her study of the intelligence and Sam had already concluded that there was more than enough data to warrant John’s concern. The report from the main NID agent assigned to watch the company had noted that Patrick Sheppard had been fully aware of the Trust. The agent had posited that Sheppard had refused to allow the Trust a foothold in his organisation because of control issues rather than any objection on moral grounds to the Trust’s agenda. There was evidence of two known Trust operatives working in the senior management. The agent had noted that Patrick Sheppard was aware of them but David Sheppard’s awareness was unclear.

The agent – a Veronica Klass – was meticulous in a way that Sam appreciated. Klass had investigated Patrick Sheppard’s death and found, despite the suddenness of it, that there was no evidence of foul play. She had noted the surprise of John’s inheritance given the estrangement, the supposition that Patrick Sheppard was attempting to ensure the Trust could not control his company from beyond the grave. Sam wondered whether John realised that if his brother was to die, Dave’s shares would automatically revert to John under the terms of his father’s will. Klass had concluded that the Trust could not simply remove David Sheppard.

There were more notes on John’s gift of the proxy to his brother; that Dave Sheppard actually controlled his brother’s inheritance and was doing a damn good job of making John a multi-millionaire. Sam bit her lip, knowing John would hate her knowing the detail, and moved on. By the end of her reading, she was concerned enough to agree to John’s veiled demand that she had someone from the Stargate programme talk to his brother about the Trust. Klass was of the same opinion, noting in one report that whatever protection Patrick Sheppard thought he was providing for his company and younger son, John was not seen as a visible threat to the Trust. Dave Sheppard was vulnerable. He had a wife and two kids that the Trust could use. He had full control of the company thanks to John’s proxy. Of course, Klass’s last report detailed the surprising news that John’s return to Earth and plans to attend the board meeting with his brother could potentially change the Trust’s opinion.

It might explain why the Trust was seeking intelligence on John’s whereabouts; why they might want to snatch him, Sam mused. She sat back and laced her hands over her belly as she contemplated everything.

Her phone rang.

She picked up with a glance to see how the search through the systems was going. Still compiling. ‘Carter.’

‘I have agents with Kymbol at the airport in Jacksonville.’ Malcolm said by way of greeting. He sounded pissed but Sam knew his ire wasn’t for her but for his organisation dropping the ball.

‘OK.’ Sam said waiting for the other shoe to drop.

‘Can you get the Odyssey to beam me to them?’ Malcolm requested politely. ‘I want to follow up on this personally.’

His involvement was the only apology the SGC – that she, Cam and John – would get. Her laptop beeped at her and she tugged it closer, reviewing the information laid out neatly with a grim smile.

‘Sam?’ Malcolm’s impatient prompt reminded her that he was waiting for her response.

‘Will do. And Malcolm?’ Sam stopped him from hanging up with the use of his name. ‘You should ask Stanley about Gina Lovell.’

‘Lovell?’ Malcolm repeated the name back to her. ‘She’s been part of his team for almost a year.’

‘Yeah, and she died in 1989.’ Sam said succinctly. ‘There’s a newspaper report they evidently didn’t track down and delete. The birth dates match. They obviously stole this woman’s identity and created another one.’ She paused. ‘According to their credit cards, she and Stan have been having lunch for the last six months.’

‘Shit.’ Malcolm snapped out because he knew what that meant; the Trust had had someone in the NID for almost a year. Who knew what intelligence had distorted; what operations lost because of Gina Lovell. ‘I’ll get back to you later.’

‘You’d better.’ Sam hung up on him before he could. It was a small point of one-upmanship but Jack had taught her well. She gave the order for the beaming to the control room to pass onto Colonel Bryant Morrow, the temporary CO of the Odyssey, and thanked God she didn’t have to talk the misogynistic prick herself.

The ping of the IM system alerted her to Jack informing her he’d beamed to Nevada. He was on an inspection tour of Area 51 to see how the repairs were going; to call in and check on the wounded in the hospital. Sam called him on a secure line and updated him, going over her plans and getting his input. She had just made a note of the last of Jack’s suggestions – and they were suggestions; he trusted her to make the decisions – when she saw Major Paul Davis lurking at the office door with fresh coffee and more Danish.

She waved him in, said goodbye to Jack and was surprised to realise that it was almost time for her working day to start in earnest. She updated Paul first over the working breakfast he’d obtained.

Paul was a programme veteran; a skilled politician; loyal to the Air Force, to the programme, and since George Hammond’s death, to Jack as the Head of Homeworld Security. Jack had loaned her Paul when Landry had taken Walter with him on his super-secret mission.

Sam finally came to a halt and requested his input. Paul had once outranked her but his desk job, no matter how vital and important, had seen her outstrip him professionally. His experience with Earth based conspiracies far outweighed her own though and she was sincere in wanting his advice.

Paul brushed the crumbs of his Danish from his fingers with a napkin as he considered his response. ‘There’s not much we can do about the NID issue.’ He began. ‘We’re very lucky this situation uncovered Lovell or whoever she was.’

‘And Agent Barrett will discover the extent of that damage now he’s aware of it.’ Sam agreed.

‘Which leaves us with two issues,’ Paul said, leaning forward in the visitor chair, his eyes gleaming with intelligence. ‘Firstly, there’s the issue of whether Colonels Sheppard and Mitchell were the focus of a joint operation, and then secondly, there’s the issue of Sheppard International and the Trust.’

‘I’d like you to handle the latter.’ Sam informed him briskly. ‘You could beam to Washington this morning, brief David Sheppard and go over his security arrangements.’

Paul nodded. ‘I met Patrick Sheppard once.’

Sam stayed silent and waited. Paul only went off at a tandem if it was relevant.

‘White House function. Black tie thing.’ Paul said. ‘Just after the Atlantis team came back to debrief after the first year.’ His eyes went distant; presumably seeing into the past, the whirl of perfumed women and penguin men; classical music and babble competing under the roof of the White House. ‘I must have been five steps behind him when the President greeted him like an old friend and said he must be proud of John’s promotion; that obviously with the classified work John was involved in he couldn’t say much more but that Sheppard Senior should know that the President and the Pentagon appreciated how many lives John had saved in the past year.’ He lifted a hand. ‘Of course, I knew the truth that the Major as he was then and his father hadn’t talked in months.’

Sam shifted in the leather. John hadn’t told her; not even when she’d broken the news of his father’s death. She’d suspected the truth of it though; her own brother and father had been estranged for too many years for her not to recognise the signs in someone else.

‘Anyway, Sheppard thanks the President, puffs up proudly and immediately started lobbying for something for his company.’ Paul tapped his fingers against the folder of information on Sheppard International on the desk. ‘That old man knew how to turn a situation to his advantage.’

And Sam got where Paul was going with his story. ‘You think Patrick Sheppard’s will together with the threat from the Trust was meant to encourage John to leave the Air Force and join the business.’

‘I think Patrick Sheppard counted on the Colonel wanting to protect his younger brother.’ Paul’s lips twisted with disgust. ‘He was a piece of work.’

‘Well, I’m fairly certain Patrick Sheppard never anticipated that the military would support John in ensuring his brother’s safety.’ Sam said brightly. John was too important to Atlantis for them to lose him; even Landry who wasn’t John’s biggest fan – the unauthorised mission in the stolen puddle jumper that saved Jack, Woolsey and Atlantis was still a sore subject – conceded that.

Paul nodded again. ‘I’ll take care of it.’ He tilted his head. ‘Do you think the Trust and the Lucien Alliance are working together?’

‘I’m not sure they are.’ Sam sighed. ‘If John’s right, and I’m inclined to say he is, why risk revealing Gina now? Something about this doesn’t make sense to me. I mean, until two days ago, Cam and John hadn’t even planned to be on vacation together.’ She screwed up her face as she tried to work out what’s going on with minimal information and sleep.

‘This Gina person’s been in place for a long time, right? Maybe whoever was behind this had something else planned.’ Paul suggested.

‘In which case, Cam’s probably the target.’ Sam said thoughtfully.

It made sense; he was the one situated usually in the Milky Way and the plan had obviously been in track for a long time. If it was true, she was prepared to narrow the list of potential suspects to the Lucien Alliance who absolutely hated Cam rather than the Trust, and…oh God, just how stupid had she been?

‘Damn!’ She lurched out of her chair and paced, throwing an accusing finger back at her laptop. ‘Gina. Gina set it up to make the Trust and the Lucien Alliance look as though they’re in collusion. She set it all up.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Paul looked at her as though he was worried she’d lost it.

Sam took a breath and sat back down. ‘I think I’m right.’

‘I agree.’ Paul stated firmly. ‘Colonel Mitchell would have been scheduled to be on his honeymoon over the next two weeks. I’m guessing they planned to grab him and his fiancée during that time.’

Because people left a newly-wed couple alone on their honeymoon. There was no expectation of check-ins or friendly chats or even postcards. People expected them to be off having sex and a good time. It would have been a perfect opportunity to grab Cam. Plus if they’d grabbed Amy too, they would have had the advantage of using his new wife to keep him in line. She said as much out loud.

‘It must have thrown their plans completely when they realised that not only had Colonel Mitchell called off his wedding but he’d elected to go on vacation with another highly trained Air Force Colonel. And let’s not forget that flying means they have to log where they’re travelling constantly.’ Paul’s eyes glinted with amusement.

Sam’s own lips twitch. She hoped it sucked big time when the Alliance realised their careful months of planning were shot to hell. ‘It definitely explains why they tried to force them into going off-grid. It lessens the prospect of immediate back-up.’

‘Are we leaving the Colonels out in the open?’ Paul asked bluntly.

Sam clasped her hands on the desk before answering, because ultimately that was the big question wasn’t it? Did she recall them now they know – well, could reasonably surmise – that there was a threat?

‘I need to discuss it with General O’Neill and Mister Woolsey at my usual check-ins this morning.’ Sam said. ‘But,’ she sat back, ‘I’d prefer to give them some options.’ She didn’t say that she thought both men needed the time away to get their heads straight.

Cam had been unhappy for months. She’d noticed it more since her return from Atlantis but looking back she wondered if the first sign hadn’t been his unusual quietness at her going-to-Atlantis party. He’d waved away her concern at the time, saying that he was sad at her departure…

‘I should have known that they’d break up the band again.’ Cam had drawled.

But it wasn’t just Cam that Sam was worried about. She let her mind drift to John. If she had to make a guess at his state of mind, he was bone tired underneath the military mask he wore; worn by the losses and grieving. She remembered how it felt. She’d been lucky when she’d hit that patch; there had been the end of one war and she’d gone to R&D. She knew John well enough to know that he wouldn’t walk away from Atlantis, Pegasus and the war with the Wraith; he wouldn’t take the time he needed.

‘I take it option one is that we bring them in?’ Paul asked, interrupting her musing.

Sam nodded. ‘Option two is to take them off grid as far as the civil authorities were concerned.’ She tapped her notebook. ‘They use military bases, log their flight plans through us and we could coordinate with the civilian air authorities as we usually do for military hops.’

Paul frowned. ‘Or option three; they remain out in the open.’

‘They’re not a hundred per cent safe that way; it’s easier for them to be targeted but, on the other hand, they’re using private airfields and accommodation with good security, and we also have the advantage of knowing where they were.’ Sam admitted. ‘And the Alliance taking them on while they’re in the air will be risky given it’s their natural habitat.’

Paul smiled at that.

She thought Cam and John would go for option three. They were fighter pilots; risk-takers. She intended to have radios beamed to their next destination so they could request immediate beam outs to Odyssey; it was a slim protection but it was what she could offer.

‘I think I have a working theory on why they might have wanted Colonel Mitchell in these particular two weeks.’ Paul adds. ‘But it’s classified. I’ll need to talk with General Landry.’

Sam frowned but nodded. She glanced at the clock and Paul stood; their time was up and the SGC was about to shift into its day mode.

Paul nodded. ‘With your permission?’

Sam dismissed him. She closed down her searches and backtracked out of the systems, careful to clean-up after herself and leave no trace. She’d brief Cam and John when they got to Panama City. She organised her thoughts and called in the duty Sergeant to make the necessary changes to her schedule.

It had already been a long day but it was only going to get longer.

Chapter 8

‘I turned into a bug.’ It wasn’t the first time John had said that particular statement since the story-telling had turned into the discussion over who had won. John was very confident he was the winner. It had taken Mitchell an hour to think of something, and his bug story of IOA delegates and Lucien Alliance experiments getting loose was nowhere near the same league as John’s experience.

John slipped his sunglasses into his jacket pocket and took a look around the Sheppard hangar they’d taxied into. He didn’t relax until his eyes had skimmed the perimeter and found nothing suspicious. It was a hangar. There was the usual welcoming committee of a couple of old mechanics who had waved them in and pointed at where to park and who were making loving, cooing noises over the beauty of his plane. There was a mess of tools and equipment stowed off to the sides and the walls. Along one wall, there was a series of doors which would undoubtedly lead to an office, lockers, shower rooms and toilets; maybe a small kitchenette.

‘The bugs ate people.’ Mitchell continued to argue but John noted that his fellow Colonel was doing a perimeter check of his own. Neither of them was as blasé as they were making out over the whole Stan incident.

‘Firstly,’ John said, ‘ewww, and secondly: I turned into a bug.’

‘Aw, come on. The bugs almost ate Woolsey!’ Mitchell’s eyes were twinkling.

‘Now, if they had eaten Woolsey or any of the IOA delegates, I might have been willing to give you extra points,’ John shot back lightly, grinning at him, ‘but even then: I turned into a bug.’

‘Fine.’ Mitchell abruptly capitulated, throwing his hands up. ‘You turned into a bug. You win.’

John let his grin widen.

Mitchell rolled his shoulders and stretched as far as he could in the cramped cockpit. John began the climb out between the seats and stopped as Mitchell tapped his arm.

‘Speak of the devil – isn’t that Woolsey?’ Mitchell pointed to the wall of doors, one of which was open and filled with the familiar form of John’s latest expedition leader.

He and Mitchell exchanged a look that said ‘oh shit,’ because they both knew that Woolsey being there could not be a good thing.

They hustled out of the plane, leaving their bags. They took a moment to confer with the mechanics. John waved away their Mister Sheppards with a terse ‘call me John’ which resulted in them calling him ‘Mister John;’ they all agreed Maggie was the best thing ever, and finally he and Mitchell made their way over to Woolsey who was waiting remarkably patiently.

‘Gentlemen.’ Woolsey greeted them calmly. He was starting to relax his dress code but despite the ambient warmth, he wore pressed grey pants with a button down blue Oxford shirt. His concession to the heat was presumably to have left off the tie. ‘Shall we?’ He indicated the office behind him.

Fred Billing, the airfield manager was a forty-something former Marine Sergeant who snapped to attention as soon as Mitchell and John entered the room.

‘Colonels.’ Billing vibrated with the urge to salute. His gaze slid from John, to Mitchell, to Woolsey and back.

John faked a smile and asked to borrow the room.

‘Of course, Colonel.’ Billing escaped with more haste than grace.

John sat on the edge of Billing’s immaculate desk, Mitchell leaned on the wall and Woolsey took the plastic visitor’s chair. The first thing Woolsey did was place a small silver object on the desk. John recognised it as a jamming device. They wouldn’t be overheard by any electronic means.

Woolsey leaned back in the visitor chair looking surprisingly comfortable and at ease. ‘Colonel Carter, Generals O’Neill and Landry, and I have agreed I would be the best to brief you both.’

John was pretty sure he knew what Rodney’s reaction to that would have been. His eyes flickered towards Mitchell momentarily and they shared an amused look.

‘So, brief.’ John waved at Woolsey to get on with it.

‘Colonel Carter has gone over the NID information. We’re reasonably certain that there was a plot to kidnap Colonel Mitchell on his anticipated honeymoon that was put into motion many months ago.’

Mitchell lurched off the wall and, hands on hips, glared at Woolsey. ‘What?’

Woolsey continued unperturbed by Mitchell’s reaction. ‘Our best guess was that with the cancellation of your wedding and the impromptu vacation with Colonel Sheppard here, the Alliance was prompted into trying to force you into a vulnerable position another way to ensure the success of their original plan.’

Mitchell looked pole-axed. John didn’t blame him.

‘Colonel Carter believes the most likely suspect wanting to kidnap you is the Lucien Alliance. We know they had an agent installed in the NID intelligence analysis team to ensure that all intelligence related to that plot was conveniently lost before we could be alerted to it.’ Woolsey said.

‘Stan?’ John asked, thinking he didn’t think the geeky guy they’d had breakfast with had it in him.

‘No,’ Woolsey admitted, ‘a woman who began working there almost a year ago. Agent Barrett has debriefed Stanley Kymbol and, combined with Colonel Carter’s background check, we’re assured that Kymbol was a stooge. The young woman, on the other hand, has a false id and Kymbol has admitted that she befriended him some months back, and that she was the one who encouraged him to follow you to Jacksonville.’

‘She was playing him.’ Mitchell bit out.

John figured Mitchell felt as bad for Stan as he did. His mind leaped ahead. ‘Let me guess who didn’t turn up for work today.’

‘She’s disappeared.’ Woolsey confirmed.

‘Fantastic.’ Mitchell whirled and paced away to the window overlooking the airstrip, a hand at the back of his head.

‘Kymbol has also confirmed though that she was the one who brought the coincidence of the Trust and Alliance messages to his attention. We believe that she created one or altered one to make it look like the two organisations could be in collusion. We’re tracking down the original sources just to be certain.’ Woolsey added.

‘Finally, some good news.’ John murmured.

Mitchell snorted.

‘I’m afraid that’s it.’ Woolsey said almost apologetically. His gaze shifted to Mitchell. ‘We’ve taken the liberty of placing your ex-fiancée under protective surveillance and Miss Mal Doran is visiting with your parents for a while with Teyla.’

John frowned a little at the mention of Teyla.

Woolsey smiled understandingly. ‘I believe Teyla regards it as an opportunity to learn more about Earth culture.’

Mitchell breathed out and nodded sharply. ‘That’s good of them.’

‘Which leaves us with the question of what to do with you.’

John’s head snapped up but Woolsey’s attention had returned to Mitchell. John got why: it was Mitchell who was the target.

Mitchell turned to look at Woolsey. The easy going guy who John was just joking about bugs with was gone; the serious Colonel stood in his place.

‘I’m being recalled?’ Mitchell asked bluntly.

It wasn’t unexpected, the thought that they could be had been lurking in John’s head ever since breakfast and Stan, but John had hoped not. He was almost overwhelmed by the rush of disappointment that followed the idea that they might have to abandon their holiday – because if Mitchell was grounded then so was John. And John was suddenly aware of how much he needed the vacation; Mitchell’s easy company, the flying, the freedom from his responsibilities. He tried to hide his reaction, staring down at the floor and rubbing the back of his own neck lightly.

Woolsey rested his elbows on the thin arms of his chair and steepled his fingers. ‘While that would be the prudent thing to do, Colonel Carter was keen for you to have options.’

John was mildly amused. He was struck again by the differences between Woolsey’s leadership style and Sam’s. In the weeks following Sam’s recall and Woolsey’s appointment, practically every decision Woolsey had made had been followed with the same moment of comparison. It wasn’t that John didn’t like or appreciate that Woolsey was a good guy underneath the bureaucratic bluster; it was just that Woolsey would never be John’s first choice for leader of the expedition. Neither was Sam truthfully. Unfortunately John’s actual first choice, Elizabeth, was dead. He ignored the usual nudge of guilt that accompanied the thought.

‘So what were the options?’ John asked impatiently.

Woolsey sighed. ‘Option one is to bring you both in. Option two is to take you officially off-grid; you continue your vacation via military bases and accommodation with flight plans logged via the SGC. Option three is for you to continue with your current vacation plan but to change your current flight plan every few days to make it less predictable where you may be going. Option four is option three with the addition of Ronon and Teal’c joining you.’ He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a small box. ‘I brought these in case option two, three or four appeal.’

John took the box and opened it. Two familiar earpieces were revealed and John lifted one up to show Mitchell.

‘The Odyssey is in orbit.’ Woolsey said dryly. ‘If there’s any trouble, you could request an immediate beam-out although obviously we would prefer you to keep the exposure limited rather than using that facility in the middle of a crowded area.’

John dropped the earpiece back in the box, another thought occurring to him. ‘Can Atlantis keep tabs on our bio-signatures with the long range sensors?’

Woolsey smiled. ‘Doctor McKay had the same thought; he was working on it when I left.’

‘So, if we stay out in the open, just change up our plans every few days, we should be relatively safe from being abducted without anyone knowing about it.’ John mused out loud, trying not to sound too hopeful.

‘And we have back-up if anyone tries to abduct me.’ Mitchell added, pointing at the box.

They looked at each other and the decision was made in a heartbeat.

‘I thought that’s what your decision would be.’ Woolsey sounded amused. ‘Are you certain you don’t want to reconsider adding two more to your party?’

John gave that serious thought because Ronon and Teal’c were both good to have around in a crisis; strong, fierce and, most importantly, silent. But he wasn’t the one who had initiated the vacation and he couldn’t help remembering that Mitchell hadn’t asked for a member of his own team to accompany him. John figured Mitchell was still less than comfortable with the idea of having others along since he was frowning.

‘Why don’t we see how the next couple of days goes?’ John suggested casually, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘See if the Alliance tries again? They may give up now they’ve been rumbled.’

Woolsey looked sceptical and John couldn’t really blame him, but Mitchell nodded with gratitude in his eyes.

‘One more thing,’ Woolsey said, evidently they’d been working together for long enough for Woolsey to anticipate John’s next question would be were-they-done, ‘Colonel Carter also looked into the matter of the Trust and your company.’

‘And?’ John asked tersely, tensing up so fast he could feel the snap in his muscles.

‘Your father was definitely aware of the Trust. We’re aware that there are two Trust operatives in senior management positions. As Kymbol indicated to you, we believe the terms of your father’s will are designed to mitigate against the possibility of the Trust gaining control of the company through your brother in some way. Obviously, apart from the usual blackmail and brainwashing, there is the possibility of a Goa’uld implantation.’

‘He has my proxy.’ Strangely, Woolsey’s dry lawyer-ish style calmed John. There was a gut clench of hurt but it wasn’t as though John didn’t know deep down that his inheritance was another attempt at control rather than a belated expression of some pride or paternal love. ‘Hell, Dave has my power of attorney over the inheritance. He could sell my shares to himself at any time.’

‘And had the Trust moved to take advantage of that before now, they might have gotten away it. As a lawyer, I would advise leaving him the proxy but ending the power of attorney. It will offer you both some protection in the circumstances.’ Woolsey noted in the same dry tone. He glanced at his watch. ‘Major Davis should be finished briefing with your brother by now.’

John nodded unhappily.

Woolsey stood. ‘Well, if you’re both certain about remaining on vacation…’

Mitchell’s eyebrows rose steadily up his forehead at the teasing tone.

John simply rolled his eyes and smiled. ‘Thanks for coming, Richard.’

Woolsey picked up his briefcase, left the jamming device, and was on his way with manly handshakes all round. John walked over to Mitchell and watched Woolsey get into a waiting Air Force car which pulled away immediately. Both of them squinted to see if they could detect when Woolsey got beamed away but the car was out of sight before there was a tell-tale flash.

There was a sharp knock at the door and John moved swiftly to pick up the jamming device and pocket it as he called for whoever it was to enter.

Billing poked his head around the door and smiled apologetically. He held aloft his cell phone. ‘Mister Sheppard is on the phone for you.’

Mitchell patted his shoulder. ‘I’ll take care of the bags.’ He left before John could say anything.

John took the cell and Billing retreated, leaving John alone in the strangely tidy office. He lifted the phone to his ear. ‘Hey.’

‘Is this real?’ Dave asked bluntly. ‘Because if this is one of your elaborate practical jokes…’

‘No joke.’ John snapped out. He took a breath and told himself not to be hurt by the lack of trust. Their relationship was a work in progress and he could hear the panic under Dave’s ice. His brother was scared; he needed to cut him some slack. He took another deep breath and walked back over to the window, needing to see the sky. ‘I promise on Mom’s grave; no joke.’

Dave breathed out heavily enough for the sound to travel across the connection. ‘Shit.’

It was as good a summary of the situation as anything else, John thought, wearily.

‘Dad really was an asshole, wasn’t he?’ Dave continued. ‘I’m sorry, John.’

Something cracked in John; that his brother had stopped defending their father’s actions; had accepted that there was no gift of paternal love and acceptance in John’s inheritance suddenly seemed devastating to John for a moment. Tears threatened and John closed his eyes, resting his forehead on the smooth cool windowpane.

‘And I fell for it, didn’t I?’ Dave said bitterly. ‘I wouldn’t let you out of your inheritance and kept you tied to the company just as he knew I would. And I can’t even regret it because if I’d done what you’d wanted I’d had made myself a target for these Trust guys! He didn’t tell me what these guys were capable of! He made it sound like they were the usual business sharks! How could he not tell me how dangerous they were when Heather and the kids are at risk and…’ he stopped abruptly.

The moments ticked by long enough that John wondered if Dave was still on the other end of the phone.

‘I have to protect my wife and kids.’ Dave said eventually.

John nodded before he realised that Dave couldn’t see him.

‘I have to keep you tied to the company and you’re going to stay tied, aren’t you, now you know there’s a possibility we’re in danger.’ Dave continued. ‘I’m sorry.’ He laughed but there was no humour in it and John winced. ‘And there I go again saying sorry, as though that’s going to make up for Dad counting on you saving me again.’

John straightened, confused. ‘What do you mean by that?’

There was a pregnant pause.

‘You saved me instead of Mom. It was my fault she died. If I hadn’t been in the car…’

The words slapped into John painfully and his hand was rubbing away at his brow as though he could erase them. They’d never talked about their Mom’s death; never talked about John saving Dave’s life that day or their father’s reaction.

‘Dave…’ John didn’t know how to begin. ‘It’s…that’s…’ he tried to regain his breath, ‘Dave, it’s not…it was never your fault.’ It was John’s. He hadn’t been fast enough, smart enough.

‘John,’ Dave sighed heavily, ‘I know you blamed me.’

The accusation was almost a relief and John embraced the anger it sparked enthusiastically. ‘I never blamed you!’ He denied vehemently.

‘You couldn’t look at me!’ Dave shot back furiously. ‘You hardly spoke to me! Don’t tell me you didn’t blame me!’

‘I was eleven years old and blaming myself for not saving her, Dave.’ John interrupted angrily, not caring about what he was saying; what he was revealing. ‘What the hell did you want from me?’

The painful silence was almost unbearable.

John tried to force the memories out of his head; the feelings out of the way; to focus on the mission – the problem. ‘Look, we need to…’ he gestured at the window helplessly, unsure how he finished that sentence.

‘Do you have someone else who could act as your proxy and power of attorney?’ Dave asked sharply.

‘You keep the proxy,’ John said firmly. ‘You need to retain it otherwise they’ll use that to usurp your position.’

‘What about the power of attorney?’ Dave pressed.

John thought. He would suggest Nancy but he didn’t want to place her in danger either. He caught sight of Mitchell loading their rental car through the window. The other man was based on Earth; he was military and aware of the Trust. He was certain Mitchell would agree to take on the power of attorney. ‘I’ll ask Mitchell.’

‘I’ll get one of our company attorneys to your apartment within the hour.’ Dave agreed.

‘Thank you.’ John said politely. ‘What about your security?’

‘I’ll be increasing security, of course. Major Davis has offered some suggestions.’ Dave informed him crisply.

John rubbed his eyes tiredly. ‘Good.’

‘Are you…’ Dave paused momentarily, ‘will you still be attending the board meeting?’

‘I said I would, didn’t I?’ John said tersely.

‘OK. So I’ll meet you in San Francisco as discussed to arrange the details?’ Dave replied.

‘Yeah.’ John wanted to end the call; wanted to forget everything that had said.

‘John…’ Dave sighed, ‘it was never your fault either.’ He hung up before John could reply.

For a second, John had to fight the urge to hurl the cell phone against a wall. But it wasn’t his and he ended up tossing it fairly gently back onto the desk. He paced back and forth before he yanked out his own phone and stabbed at the on button, barely waiting for it to confirm it had a signal before hitting the speed dial he’d programmed.

‘Tell me you’ve got the sensors working on picking up our bio-signatures.’ He growled as soon as his call was answered.

‘Hello to you too,’ Rodney replied snappily, ‘and no, not yet. There are adjustments, sensitive adjustments that have to be made before they’ll scan wider than the city or just outside of it.’

‘How long?’

‘How long?’ Rodney repeated, sounding outraged. ‘Why do you always asked me that? You’re going to be asking me to pluck a number from mid-air next, aren’t you? Because that would just be typical of you and…’

John considered that he might have gone insane because Rodney’s rant was calming him down. It must be a Pavlovian thing, John thought. Because when they’re in danger and John’s blood was rushing hot, Rodney’s predilection for ranting meant John had to cool down; he had to be the sane one telling Rodney to focus and get the job done so Rodney could save their asses. John slumped against the desk and decided freaking-out because his subconscious had turned Rodney and his rants into the adult equivalent of a security blanket could wait for another day.

‘John?’

The slightly panicked use of his name yanked John back to the present. ‘I’m here.’

‘That’s debatable.’ Rodney remarked but it was without his usual bite. ‘Uh, are you OK? You seem kind of…’

‘I’m…’ John’s throat closed up on the lie. He wasn’t OK. He was pissed. He was sad. He was half a dozen emotions he couldn’t even identify and all of them were making it difficult for him to breathe. He let out a long breath and closed his eyes. ‘My Dad was an asshole.’ The blunt truth of saying it out loud made him feel better.

‘Whose wasn’t?’ Rodney said. ‘We should get together and compare notes one night when you’re back. We can get disgustingly drunk on that stuff you like to call beer.’

John found himself laughing and, maybe it was a touch hysterical but he’d take it. ‘You bring the beer then.’

‘When do I have time to buy beer?’ Rodney shot back. He paused. ‘Woolsey said you said no to Ronon and Teal’c?’

‘We’ll be OK.’ John said, avoiding the truth that it wasn’t truly his decision to make, and there was a very large part of him which wouldn’t have minded having them tag along. ‘I’d feel better if you could get the sensors working and could keep track of where we are.’

‘Huh.’ Rodney said. ‘Me too. You know if you give me the plane registration…’

‘Then you’d know where the plane is, Rodney; not us.’

‘That’s…actually a good point.’

John laughed again and he opened his eyes. ‘Oh, hey; the bug story worked like a dream.’

‘Hah!’ Rodney had never been shy about gloating. ‘Gold! Didn’t I tell you?’

John glanced out of the window again and saw Mitchell lounging against their rental. There was nothing impatient about his stance but John felt guilty for leaving him out there alone. ‘Gotta go.’

‘Check in again tomorrow?’ Rodney said with a touch of wistful hopefulness that John couldn’t bring himself to squash like he usually would in the normal rhythm of their snarking.

‘Tomorrow, Rodney.’ John disconnected the call, rubbed his hand over his face and took a deep breath, burying his conversation with Dave, the revelations of guilt and blame, somewhere inside of himself. He’d deal with it when he was alone.

Chapter 9

Cam was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming. He’d had this dream a lot.

He was aboard the Odyssey in the Ori galaxy. The ship was under attack from Replicators inside and from the Ori outside. He hoped Sam could find the shutdown code and destroy the Replicators before they took complete control of the ship; hoped Daniel, Teal’c and Vala had found the damn Ark to take care of the Ori before they blew the Odyssey and her crew all to hell. In the meantime, he headed out to face down the Replicator Queen.

The corridors were dark and his footsteps were loud no matter how lightly he tried to tread. He’d left men to guard the Asgard core, had crew trapped all over the ship. He was alone. Surgical strike, he told himself; stupid reckless heroics, his inner Bryce shot back. He had a bomb in his hand; the distraction Sam had requested all prepared and ready to go. He could do this.

But there was a monster stood in the corridor. Cam could already feel his heart beating faster; the anticipation of pain and hurt.

The fight was brutal.

Hard floor, hard punches, hard walls. He could taste blood in his mouth, heavy and metallic. He knew he had cracked ribs. He was bruised everywhere. He was almost certain he’d wrenched his knee and sprained an ankle. But his finger was pressing down on the detonation button and there was heat and force and…

Cam came out of the dream between one breath and the next, a strangled scream caught in his throat. He was covered in sweat despite the air-conditioning; his body tangled into a knot with the sheet. He fought himself free, sat on the edge of his bed in his boxers and dog-tags. He reached shakily for the bottle of water he had on the bedside table. It took three goes before he got the plastic top off. He threw the cap across the room toward the waste basket in the corner and didn’t watch it miss. He chugged back half of the bottle before rolling his head slowly, trying to ease the tension out of his neck muscles.

He shivered. A reaction to the chilled room and the sweat cooling on his body, he rationalised. It was nothing to do with his nightmare.

It wasn’t even the worst of his regular nightmares. He had a list in his head, neatly categorised in order. Firing on a truck of refugees because of bad intelligence was at the top of the list; freezing to death trapped in a crashed 302 in the wasteland of Antarctica followed it. Losing Bryce came next – both the accident and the Godawful week before Bryce’s death; the Replicator beating limped in a poor fifth.

He knew what had triggered it; the bug story. The Replicators weren’t bugs but they looked like them. He had a clear memory of the spider and insect like metal creations the Replicators built converging on him when he’d been beaten and couldn’t move.

At least, he hadn’t turned into a bug. He shivered again.

Cam set the bottle down on the table and rubbed his hands over his face. He got up and padded across the room to the window. They were on the outskirts of the city in an exclusive apartment block where all the rooms had a fantastic view of the ocean. He looked out, separating the ground from the ocean, his eyes making out the gentle swell of waves in the darkness.

Maybe it was weird but the Lucien Alliance didn’t feature all that much in his nightmares, Cam thought idly. He crossed his arms over his naked chest, and felt the cold press of metal from his dog-tags against his arm. He’d had his run-ins with them. Of all of them, Teal’c’s experiences had been the worst – the Jaffa had spent multiple times in their torture chambers. Sam’s were probably next given her experience when the Alliance had briefly taken control of the Odyssey and killed the then commander Paul Emerson. Cam had been undercover a few times but he’d always come out on top. The only time Cam had truly felt threatened by them if he was honest was when he’d stared down a bounty hunter in the middle of his high school reunion. Maybe after the revelations of their plot to abduct him he should reconsider that, Cam mused seriously. He was kind of awestruck and horrified to be at the centre of such focused planning.

A smile lifted his lips.

He would have loved to have seen the look on their faces when they’d realised all that planning was worthless; that Cam wasn’t getting married, wasn’t going on honeymoon, wasn’t disappearing handily for a couple of weeks so they could kidnap, torture and brainwash him.

But Cam knew he wasn’t out of the woods. He knew the Alliance. They didn’t give up easily especially when they’d invested so much. In some respects, he knew that Woolsey was right; it would be more prudent for him to be recalled. He was pleased Sam had insisted they were given options; pleased John had agreed to stay with the original plan although he figured John wouldn’t have minded having Ronon and Teal’c join them for extra back-up.

He tensed, frustrated at the way his whole being shied away from the idea of having others join them. He was being stupid. He knew that. He and John were trained but if the Alliance came in force without back-up on the ground, they’d need the emergency beam-out.

Which they had, Cam thought confidently. He was not completely stupid or reckless. And John’s idea of Atlantis tracking them was a good contingency plan. Even so…Cam couldn’t quite convince himself that he shouldn’t just get over himself and agree to Ronon and Teal’c.

But.

But he didn’t want to.

Cam lurched away from the window and pulled on his jeans. He padded out of the bedroom, down the hall and into the open plan room that combined the den, kitchen and dining area. There was a wrap-around balcony with sun-loungers but Cam wasn’t looking for a better view.

He flicked the large screen TV on, muted the sound immediately and found a sports channel. It was showing ice-skating. Not hockey. Figure skating; some championship event taking place in Europe from the strange language signs that were dotted about the arena on screen. But the looping and jumping were hypnotic and Cam slumped down on the butter-soft leather sofa to watch mindlessly.

Why didn’t he want Ronon and Teal’c to join them?

His mind insisted on pressing the issue even though he wanted to switch off and not think about anything. But as it strayed across his thinking one more time, Cam sighed and gave in.

He knew part of it was that he’d enjoyed the last couple of days, Lucien Alliance shenanigans aside. John was easy company; smart, funny, and with enough flying, sport and pop culture knowledge that they’d never run out of things to talk about. Then there was the flying. He smiled at the twinge in his muscles. He loved the flying. He felt free and he didn’t want to lose that by adding two bodyguards as a constant reminder of the threat of imminent abduction.

He also knew that it wasn’t really anything to do with the two men themselves. True, he didn’t really know Ronon but John and Teal’c both held him in high esteem and, from what little he did know, Ronon was a good man to have on their side and he wasn’t the type to press for personal conversations and revelations. And Teal’c was Teal’c. He liked Teal’c. Teal’c was his team-mate after all…and right there was the main problem.

Because he didn’t want his team-mates around. Just like he hadn’t wanted them around at the farm. Just like he hadn’t wanted to talk to them for months.

‘There was a reason why Sam didn’t talk to us.’

Daniel’s words echoed in his head. Cam pressed his head back into the leather. This would be a lot easier if he knew why he didn’t want to talk to his team-mates. He wondered instead about why Sam hadn’t talked to the team. He had never talked to her about it, or talked to Daniel or to Teal’c about it either. It was in the past and it was something he was sure Sam didn’t want dragged into the light again, but, alone with only the light from the TV screen, Cam gave into the urge to examine it.

Cam knew enough from what had been said in passing and, from what little Sam had said to him personally when she had informed him of her relationship with the General, to know that Sam had broken off her engagement to Pete Shanahan in part because she was in love with O’Neill and had been in love with him for a long while. And that right there, Cam thought, was more than enough reason why she had never spoken to the others about any doubts she’d had about marrying Pete. It had been a complete tangle of regulations and feelings which, if spoken about, would have changed the team regardless of the outcome of the conversation.

It would had been a hell of a risk to take, Cam mused, not only on a personal level but a professional one. There had been a war to fight; a mission. Just like Cam, Sam had taken an oath to put country before self. She couldn’t risk the mission by changing her team dynamic; she had chosen instead to remain silent about her doubts, about her feelings, until the universe had given her a break and ended the war, allowing her the chance to breathe and speak out.

Sam’s reasons for not talking to the team were a complex cauldron of duty, of honour, of fear in knowing that to speak would be the equivalent of throwing a rock in a pond that would create ripples of change that she couldn’t control.

Something about that last thought felt familiar, recognisable. Cam wondered if that was what was underneath his own reticence. Was he afraid to throw a stone and create ripples? And if so, what stone had he been planning to throw if he’d talked with his team? And what ripples did he think it would create?

What was he afraid of?

He frowned at the TV screen as he pondered the question. He started when John threw open the door of the den and walked in, stumbling to an abrupt halt at the sight of Cam.

John was dressed in sleepwear; black t-shirt over sweatpants. His dark hair was stuck-up; his hazel eyes a little wild; his face was white under the shadow of his beard and the embarrassed flush darkening his cheeks.

Cam lifted a hand from his chest and gave a brief wave. Obviously he wasn’t the only one having nightmares.

‘I, uh, need some air.’ John said, moving again swiftly to the outer door. He was through and onto the balcony before Cam could speak.

For a long moment, Cam stayed sunk into the leather of the sofa and not inclined to move. He wasn’t John’s keeper no matter that some of his motivation for asking John to come along on the trip had been to help John as much as himself. But as his eyes tracked back to the balcony, Cam could see the way John was braced, his body a tense curve as he lowered his head to his clasped hands on top of the metal railing.

Cam slowly stood, grimacing as his body creaked in protest. He stretched and walked over to the kitchen. He poured a carton of milk into a saucepan and set it on the stove to heat. He wasn’t too surprised that John was having nightmares. John may not had found out that he was the target of a Lucien Alliance plot, but the threat of the Trust endangering John’s brother and his family was real enough.

He remembered hearing John’s raised voice through the office door and quietly shooing the airfield manager and the mechanics further into the hangar, distracting them with the plane. He shook his head at the memory of spending an hour that evening signing a document that said in John’s absence, he’d be his power of attorney. He’d been a little alarmed that the bank accounts and stock portfolios he was looking after for John were valued in millions.

‘Talk to Dave.’ John had said when Cam had expressed some concern. ‘He’ll tell you what to do.’

Cam poured the milk into ceramic mugs and stopped by the bar at the back of the den to add a generous measure of whiskey into both. He headed out onto the balcony. The air was cool and his skin broke out in goose-bumps. He held out one mug to John.

‘Here.’

John looked over his shoulder at him, took in the mug and straightened. ‘Warm milk?’

‘My Mom swears by it.’ Cam said, walking forward to stand beside John at the railing. The air was so heavy with salt, Cam could almost taste it. He breathed in, and felt a breeze brush across his skin.

John took a sip and coughed, spluttering through it until he regained his breath. Cam didn’t hide his grin when John shot a pissed look at him.

‘And the whiskey?’ John asked with a roughened voice.

‘My own addition.’ Cam admitted. ‘I’m not sure Mom would approve.’ He rested one foot on the lower railing and stared out into the night sky. The stars were almost obscured by cloud but he could see the odd one or two peeking out.

John took another cautious sip and rested his hip against the metal barrier.

‘Nightmare?’ Cam asked casually.

John grimaced, a wry twist of his lips. ‘There’s a reason I don’t usually tell the bug story.’

Cam nodded and swallowed down some of the laced milk.

‘You?’ John said tentatively.

Cam lifted a shoulder in answer. ‘There’s a bug story I didn’t tell.’

John’s face settled into understanding lines, his body relaxing into a fluid slouch. ‘We’re a pair, aren’t we?’

The dry comment brought a smile to Cam’s face. ‘It’s part of the job.’

He was certain anyone who served in the programme had nightmares; knew his team did. Off-world, alone in tents, it wasn’t easy to hide when someone woke up, screaming or breathless; when someone slept moaning and restless. He was used to Daniel’s firm hand on his shoulder, waking him up or steadying him back to sleep; used to Teal’c calming Daniel with soothing low tones, or Vala cuddling into Teal’c as though he was nothing more than a Jaffa-shaped teddy-bear, or Daniel drying Vala’s tears. Cam knew he was second string most of the time. Daniel and Teal’c had known each other longer; Vala always wanted Daniel; Teal’c for some reason accepted that Sam had told Vala to take care of him.

‘They really don’t pay us enough.’ John complained dryly.

Cam smiled because he knew neither of them was in it for the money. He drank his milk. He hadn’t considered the consequences of his Get Sheppard Talking plan beyond his thought that it could help Sheppard talk without really talking. ‘Maybe the story-telling isn’t such a good idea.’

John shrugged. ‘If it hadn’t been that nightmare, it would have been something else.’

It was a startlingly honest comment that Cam wasn’t expecting.

John glanced over at him, saw his surprise and raised his mug. ‘It’s been something of an information-packed day.’

Right.

‘How are you doing with the whole company-Trust thing?’ Cam asked, staring into the milky depths of his mug.

‘Oh, you know,’ John made a sweeping gesture with his mug which encompassed the view in front of them.

‘That good, huh?’ Cam said when John didn’t say anything else.

‘Better.’ John quipped with a quirk of his eyebrows as he drained the last of his drink. He looked across at him. ‘Uh, how were you doing with the whole kidnap plot-Alliance thing?’

Cam’s lips twitched. ‘Oh, you know.’ He parroted back.

John smiled ruefully. ‘That good, huh?’

‘Better.’ Cam completed the exchange.

It felt good when they both laughed.

‘Actually, I’m surprisingly OK with the Alliance thing.’ Cam admitted, changing positions as his left leg ached. ‘Just…I’m worried about my folks.’

‘You get hold of them earlier?’ John asked, turning around to lean back against the railing.

Cam nodded. ‘I talked to my Dad. He’s more worried about Vala and Teyla than about him and Mom.’

‘Teyla can take care of herself.’ John confirmed. ‘She beats up Ronon eight out of ten times.’

‘And Vala’s wily.’ Cam said proudly.

‘Like Wile E Coyote?’ John teased.

Cam straightened. ‘Like the Roadrunner.’

‘Ah.’ John looked down at his empty mug. ‘Speaking of being wily, should you even be out on the balcony?’

Cam shrugged. ‘They want me alive not dead.’ He reached across and hit John lightly on the shoulder. ‘And I didn’t invite you on this trip to be my bodyguard so…’

‘So, don’t suggest that it might be wise for us to keep to the buddy system for the rest of the vacation?’ John shot back undeterred.

Cam was not easily stirred to anger but there was a flicker of it in his gut; enough to know that maybe he wasn’t quite as sangfroid about everything as he’d been telling himself since it had taken John less than five seconds to find the sore spot and to poke at most effectively. He resisted the urge to stalk inside and downed the rest of his milk, feeling the welcome burn of the whiskey.

‘Look, I know how much this sucks,’ John said, eyes averted as he gestured at him, ‘and, honestly, I’m really not, uh, comfortable being the sensible one.’

Cam sighed. ‘Maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable being the sensible one.’

And that was possibly more honest than Cam had meant to be; he’d surprised himself. It was weird because he’d never truly considered himself the sensible one in the team. If anything, Jaffa revenge aside, he assigned that role to Teal’c. But he was chagrined to realise that the last time he had given into his reckless side had been his decision to go off searching for the Replicator Queen alone, and before that…he’d had to be the sensible one in between Vala attempting to prove she belonged on SG1, Daniel going all Merlin on them, Sam getting lost in alternate universes, and Teal’c indulging his Jaffa revenge gig. He wasn’t sure what that meant, if it meant anything.

John was looking at him and Cam was glad of the dark; he hoped it hid the flush suffusing his cheeks.

‘I get that this,’ John gestured expansively again, ‘was supposed to be about flying and getting away from,’ he searched for a word, ‘responsibility,’ he settled on eventually, ‘but…’ his voice trailed away.

‘But.’ Cam repeated softly. He turned away; back to the view. Because he knew that ‘but’ stood for ‘Lucien Alliance’ and ‘threat on his life’ and ‘placing John in danger too.’ That ‘but’ meant he should be sensible. He should acquiesce to Ronon and Teal’c; should make sure he wasn’t alone to be grabbed at any moment. He didn’t want to be sensible but there was more at stake here than him. He shoved away from the railing. ‘You’ll call Woolsey in the morning and get him to send Ronon and Teal’c?’

‘Send Ronon and Teal’c where?’ John sounded confused.

Cam’s eyes snapped in John’s direction, an angry retort on his lips which died the instant he realised that John was confused. Cam folded his arms around his torso, his left hand wrapped around his right bicep.

‘I thought…isn’t Ronon and Teal’c joining us the sensible thing to do?’ Cam said quietly.

John’s confusion dissipated rapidly; amusement sweeping over his face in its wake. ‘I was talking about being sensible not sensible.’

That should have made no sense whatsoever but strangely Cam understood him.

‘I mean, if you want to be that sensible, we could head for the nearest military base and give up on the vacation completely.’

And Cam rolled his eyes at John’s mocking, letting go of some of the tension that knotted up his muscles. ‘So, what are you suggesting?’

John scratched his shoulder idly. ‘That we’re sensible within the parameters of the mission.’

Cam’s lips twitched at that. ‘Parameters being…’

‘We’re on vacation and we’re flying.’ John listed out crisply.

‘And the being sensible part?’ Cam pressed.

John tilted his head and kept his eyes on Cam. ‘We change up the flight plan every couple of days like we agreed with Richard. We start wearing the earpieces. Rodney tracks us in Atlantis.’ He paused. ‘You don’t go anywhere alone.’

Cam chafed at the last part and he knew John knew that he chafed at that last part. ‘This…’ he struggled to put into words what he thought; what he felt, ‘I just…this is your leave. I don’t want you to feel obligated or responsible for me.’

‘Mitchell,’ John drawled tiredly, ‘you agreed to be my power of attorney to help me out. I think I can cope with being your wingman while we are on leave.’

John looked as if he’d rather swallow nails than continue the conversation.

‘Aren’t you going to get sick of me?’ Cam asked, not completely willing to concede out loud yet although he knew he would.

‘I think I can handle it.’ John said easily. There was a challenge in John’s eyes; could Cam handle it?

‘Fine.’ Cam huffed out.

‘Great,’ John said forcefully, ‘now can we please go back to where I’m not being the sensible one?’

Cam cocked his head and smirked at John. ‘Think of it as being good practice. You have eagles now. People will expect you to be the sensible one.’

John looked suitably horrified.

‘And talking of which…’ Cam pointed with his empty mug toward the inside. He patted John’s shoulder as he walked past him and back into the den. He stowed his mug in the kitchen sink and ended up back in the den. The TV was still on and Cam stretched out on the sofa.

He heard John come in and the click as the lock on the balcony door slid home. He wasn’t really all that surprised when John drifted into the kitchen and began to clean up. Two days of vacation had already revealed John as a neat-freak. Some of it, Cam thought, was military; they’d been trained into square corners, tidy lockers and everything in its place. Of course, for some guys, it meant that they rebelled the instant they got space which wasn’t military-owned, left their underwear on the floor and dirty dishes stacking up until they ran out of them. Bryce had been like that. Before their vacation, Cam would have guessed John would have been the same but he wasn’t. John liked order. Cam was mildly amused by it given John’s reputation as a maverick.

He fixed his gaze on the skating –seriously, was a body meant to twist that way? – and let himself drift, the sound of water running a weirdly domestic counterpoint in the background.

‘Hey,’ Cam called out, remembering John’s confusion over Ronon and Teal’c, ‘where did you think I meant to send Ronon and Teal’c?’

The water stopped and John walked back to the archway separating the den from the kitchen units. He was drying his hands on a towel. ‘I thought you might want to send them to take over the surveillance on your, uh, Amy.’

It actually wasn’t a bad idea. Cam would call Sam at a reasonable Colorado hour and suggest it, he decided. He said as much to John.

John settled on the two-seater sofa across from Cam and stretched out. He frowned at the TV. ‘Is this…skating?’

‘It’s on the sports channel.’ Cam said defensively.

John gave a disbelieving hnmpf but he didn’t get up to find the remote. ‘I think it would be sensible not to mention that we watched this to anyone.’

Cam silently agreed but for form he threw a cushion. ‘See? You’re getting the hang of this being sensible thing already.’

John snorted audibly at that.

‘Who’s the sensible one on your team anyway?’ Cam asked, sleepily, and thinking he should know.

‘Teyla.’ John answered promptly. ‘And it’s worse now she has the whole Mom thing going for her. We suggest doing something the least bit risky and she mentions Torren. All of us are helpless before her even Rodney.’

There was a lot of fondness and affection in his voice. It warmed Cam; made him think of his own Mom and how sensible she was. There was an old feeling of safety associated with thoughts of his Mom and Cam felt the last tenuous hold of his nightmare slip away. He shifted on the cushions, easing his sore shoulder into a better position and fell asleep.

Chapter 10

Sam loved being back in Atlantis. It was a bonus that Atlantis was parked in what Sam considered the SGC’s back-yard although she knew it wouldn’t last for long. She breathed in the ocean air and looked out at the bay of San Francisco.

It felt surreal.

The last time she’d stood on the balcony almost a year before, she’d been contemplating multiple moons and thinking about her trip back to Earth to report to the IOA. At the time she hadn’t realised that her trip would be one-way.

It’d been a weird year on a professional level. The Air Force hadn’t anticipated her return – the IOA’s decision taking them by surprise almost as much as it had taken Sam. She’d been based out of the SGC, sometimes tagging along with SG1 but mostly not because as much as she loved them, it felt too reminiscent of having to go back because of the Ori. But she’d loved having the time to spend in her labs; loved being entrusted with the SGC; loved being given command of the next Earth ship. She missed George Hammond fiercely.

‘It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?’ Woolsey said, joining her.

Sam turned and smiled at him; pleased that she could smile at him because for months after Woolsey had taken her job she’d wanted to punch him. ‘It is,’ she agreed lightly. ‘Are we ready for the meeting?’

‘Everyone’s on their way.’ Woolsey informed her. He invited her to lead the way back inside with a sweep of an arm.

Sam headed inside briskly. It amused her in a petty way that, in the very complicated chain of seniority around the Atlantis expedition, as acting SGC CO, she was effectively Woolsey’s boss.

They took their seats in the conference room and Sam regarded the old SGC briefing table with bemusement. She waved Woolsey into the seat at the head of the table because being petty in her head was one thing but showing that pettiness was another; she wasn’t Rodney after all. She took the seat on Woolsey’s right and wasn’t surprised when Daniel slid into the seat next to her. Across the table, Rodney took the seat to Woolsey’s left, Major Lorne sat next to him and Carson Beckett took the seat next to him covering for Jennifer.

Woolsey cleared his throat and the briefing began. Most of the agenda was around Atlantis’s repairs and projected leave date which Rodney covered, going into a level of detail that only Sam appreciated and could understand. Daniel spent the time exchanging sympathetic looks with Lorne while Woolsey desperately tried to pretend he knew what Rodney was talking about it.

Woolsey covered the on-going preparations for departure. Unsurprisingly, he wanted to stock up on as much as they could while they had the benefit of being on Earth and reduced reliance on a wormhole or a spaceship for delivery. There was a brief tussle around what constituted basics and what constituted luxuries, and Sam pointed out dryly that they couldn’t expect to clean out the cupboards of the SGC because Thor had done that once and it hadn’t gone down well.

They all moved on with relief to discussing personnel. Rodney covered the science division; Carson, the medical, and Lorne gave an update on the military. Sam noted down a couple of things that she’d need to cover in depth with Lorne at their meeting which would follow, and a couple of suggestions for Rodney to consider.

The personnel discussion over, Daniel covered his research and Sam gave them a brief update on Area 51; on the SGC. It left them with the final item on the agenda; John and Cam.

Woolsey went first. ‘Doctor McKay, have you made any progress on getting the sensors to track Colonel Sheppard and Colonel Mitchell?’

Rodney looked up from his datapad possibly for the first time in the whole meeting. ‘It hasn’t been easy but thanks to a brilliant idea that I had,’ he jolted, stopped and glared at Carson and Sam figured that the doctor had kicked Rodney under the table, ‘which Carson may have helped with in a small way, and hours of reconfiguring the…’

‘So that’s a yes?’ Woolsey asked a tad desperately.

‘That’s a yes.’ Rodney confirmed sourly. ‘I’ve texted Sheppard already although he probably won’t get it until they land.’

‘Where are they headed today?’ Daniel asked, leaning back in his chair as though he’s uninterested in the answer.

‘Why would I know?’ Rodney blusters, although from the way his cheeks were reddening, Sam was sure Rodney did know. It was a suspicion that was all but confirmed when Rodney sat back with a smug smile. ‘All I know is that Sheppard is doing most of the flying today.’

Sam was kind of relieved that all of them were looking at Rodney with befuddlement and it wasn’t just her, because why Rodney decided to announce that was anybody’s guess.

‘Oh, come on!’ Rodney said. ‘The competition?’ He pointed to Daniel. ‘Sheppard so kicked your guy’s ass!’

‘There’s a competition?’ Daniel zeroed in on what was likely the most important information.

‘Yes!’ Rodney’s eyes darted around the gathering. ‘With the story-telling about our missions!’ His hands fluttered over the table. ‘You know!’

Sam put together the disparate nuggets of information. ‘John and Cam are competing for flight time with stories?’ She took a moment to admire Cam’s ingenuity because she knew John well enough to know that he wouldn’t have suggested story-telling as a game, and knew Cam well enough to know that he would have suggested a competition for flight time; he was competitive that way.

‘Like you didn’t know that.’ Rodney accused her sharply.

‘I didn’t.’ Sam countered.

‘And I certainly didn’t know that.’ Carson pointed out acerbically.

Sam enjoyed the roll of his accent. She’d met the original Carson when he’d been stationed in Antarctica and again during his brief stint at the SGC when the Ancients had retaken control of Atlantis. He’d reminded her of Janet Fraiser; all warm reassurance and pragmatic competence wrapped around a core of iron will. His clone was the same.

‘Neither did I.’ Daniel chimed in. There was a disgruntled edge to his words and Sam knew he was annoyed that Rodney had known and he hadn’t.

They all glanced at Lorne who shrugged. ‘I know nothing.’ He said dryly.

‘Fine, fine,’ Rodney snapped, ‘nobody knew but me!’ And for a fleeting second, Rodney looked stunned by that revelation before he went red and cast about with his hands, desperately searching for a diversion to hide the fact that he and John were friends who talked to each other.

Sam took pity on him and provided one. ‘Mister Woolsey, you spoke with Teal’c?’

‘He and Ronon are in place.’ Woolsey confirmed. ‘Their predecessors had confirmed that Miss Vandenberg has a friend staying over with her and they’re remaining in the house. There’s no suspicious activity.’ He paused. ‘I’m still not sure this was the best use of their skills.’

‘Teal’c loves stakeouts.’ Daniel said by way of an answer.

‘Donuts.’ Rodney commented.

Daniel’s eyes narrowed.

Sam cleared her throat hastily. ‘What about Vala and Teyla have we heard from them?’

‘Vala called me and I spoke with them both.’ Daniel replied. ‘They’re both fine. No suspicious activity. Teyla seemed to be enjoying the opportunity to explore Earth culture.’

‘And again, I have to question whether this was the best use of our resources.’ Woolsey said pointedly.

‘Oh, please.’ Rodney said. ‘They’re deployed exactly where they should be. It’s not like any of them were, oh I didn’t know, fixing the city before they left, was it?’

There were times when Sam was grateful for Rodney’s brand of honest bluntness.

‘There is the question of how long they should be left in place to protect Colonel Mitchell’s family.’ Lorne said politely. ‘Teyla and Ronon are both due to return with us to Pegasus and I’m assuming the SGC can’t sustain long term surveillance.’

‘I’m given to understand it’s only a couple of weeks until the Colonels are back from leave.’ Woolsey slid in before Sam could respond.

Sam remembered why she wanted to punch him even if she understood his motives for once; Landry had taken the decision not to explain to Woolsey why the two weeks of the vacation period were critical. She noted the looks Daniel and Rodney were darting at her and she silently cursed their intelligence because she knew they’d started putting things together.

‘Which brings me to my original point: if the danger point is the period in which the Colonels are on leave then perhaps the option of recalling them both is something we should reconsider.’ Woolsey continued.

‘Your preference to recall them is already on record, Mister Woolsey, but we’ve taken precautions and, at this point, both Generals Landry and O’Neill are agreed, as am I, that it would be best to leave the decision in their hands.’ Sam said coolly.

‘I agree.’ Carson sat forward. ‘God knows the Colonel, I mean, our Colonel Sheppard could do with a holiday. And while I don’t know Colonel Mitchell all that well, a period of reflection before returning to work after making the kind of decisions he made recently is usually considered a good idea.’

‘But is it all that restful knowing they could be abducted by Lucien Alliance thugs at any moment?’ Woolsey argued.

‘Well, that is a good point.’ Carson conceded.

‘It won’t matter when they’re flying.’ Lorne commented confidently as only another pilot could.

Sam nodded in agreement. ‘From my discussion with Colonel Mitchell this morning, I believe both he and John are comfortable with the concessions they’re making in regards to their vacation plans. Unless they decide otherwise, or the situation changes; the decision stands.’ She placed her hands flat on the table. ‘I believe we’re done?’

Woolsey jumped to close out the meeting formally and they all dispersed. Sam followed Lorne to the office he shared with John.

She took the visitor chair across from Lorne’s desk and accepted his offer of a cup of coffee. They covered the personnel issues that Sam had noted; training schedules; the issue of boredom which was setting in with Atlantis being parked on Earth and no off-world schedule to adhere to; the promotion ceremony that they’ve been organising for some of the Atlantis Marines. The latter brought to mind John’s response to his own promotion. The first words out of his mouth after a perfunctory ‘thank you,’ had been ‘but what about my people?’ Jack had beamed at John for that.

Sam enjoyed Lorne’s observations, his logical outlining of problems and equally logical outlining of solutions. He was a good officer. She was looking forward to seeing him made a Lieutenant Colonel in the upcoming promotion ceremony and enjoyed the fact that he didn’t know anything about it. She gave advice, told Lorne he was doing a good job and settled back to finish her coffee.

‘Permission to ask something, Colonel?’ Lorne leaned back in his chair, hands wrapped around a mug like her own.

‘Sure.’ Sam was curious about what he wanted to know.

‘Why are the next two weeks so critical in regards to Colonel Mitchell being abducted by the Lucien Alliance?’ Lorne asked bluntly.

He really was a good officer, Sam thought ruefully. ‘It’s classified.’

‘Permission to speak freely…’

She waved her permission before he finished the sentence.

Lorne changed position, shifting forward. ‘I’m not all that comfortable having our people out in the field without them having full knowledge of the situation.’ He left it unsaid that they were all putting their lives at risk.

Sam sighed because it was a valid point. It wasn’t her decision though; she’d been overruled and that smarted but there was a chain of command and unless there was a really compelling reason – saving Earth, the galaxy, someone’s life – she wasn’t an advocate of disobeying orders.

‘At the moment, knowing the complete picture doesn’t change the immediate threat.’ Sam said out loud, giving Lorne the line Landry had given her. ‘If the situation changes, then we’ll reconsider.’ She tried to convey calm and authority in the same way she’d seen Hammond do for years.

Lorne nodded but his eyes gave away his continued unhappiness. He did his best though to set it aside and leaned back again. ‘I have to admit I’m a bit envious of the Colonels’ vacation.’

Sam swallowed the last of the coffee appreciatively and gave a murmur of agreement. She and Jack had already discussed changing out a week at the cabin for a week flying together in their somewhat nebulous vacation plans. She set the mug down. ‘Are you taking some leave yourself, Evan?’

‘The Colonel and I have agreed a week of handover and then I’ll take some leave.’ Lorne informed her. ‘I have family in San Francisco so…’

That he was so close but couldn’t visit them must feel a little bit like torture, Sam considered. She smiled sympathetically but there wasn’t a great deal she could do to alleviate his situation. ‘Well, I should go and check in with Daniel.’

Lorne got to his feet. ‘You need an escort to the lab, ma’am?’

‘I’ll be fine, Major.’ Sam said. ‘You’re doing a good job here.’

He smiled at the praise and remained standing ‘at ease’ as she left. Her walk through Atlantis brought back memories of the short year she’d spent with the expedition. She hadn’t wanted Atlantis originally; she’d been looking forward to time with Jack and Cassie, and not having a big bad guy to fight since the Lucien Alliance and the Trust at the time had been less of a threat. But she’d been unable to say no to the opportunity and, once she’d gotten past feeling she was babysitting the city for Elizabeth Weir, she’d enjoyed her command.

Janus’s lab was squirreled away and it took her a while to get her bearings but she walked through the wall and into the lab with a wry smile. Something that cool never got old.

Daniel was immersed and didn’t even look up. He stared at a monitor and made notations in his journal. The Marine guarding him nodded to Sam and they silently agreed for him to leave for a thirty minute break without saying a word.

Sam sat down on an empty stool and scooted up next to Daniel. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’ Daniel said absently before her presence registered fully in his mind and he took a second look at her. ‘I mean, hey.’

Sam smiled understandingly. ‘Interesting?’

‘Fascinating.’ Daniel launched into an explanation and Sam listened to it patiently, occasionally asking questions but mostly enjoying getting to hear Daniel be Daniel. He eventually wound down and stopped abruptly in mid-sentence on a device that might, or more probably might not, be the answer to the big bang. He stared at her for so long Sam started to worry that she had something on her face.

‘What?’

‘Nothing, it’s just…’ Daniel lifted a shoulder and wrinkled his nose at her, ‘whenever I thought about coming to Atlantis, I mean before we understood where it was even, this was what I thought about. You know,’ he gave a small smile and a hand wave to go with it, ‘you and I talking about the discoveries we’d made in some secret lab that we’d found.’

Her lips curved upwards. ‘With Jack playing with something he shouldn’t in the background and Teal’c guarding the door?’

Daniel nodded.

‘Yeah,’ Sam sighed wistfully, ‘me too.’ She looked around again and shook her head. ‘I spent my first three months here wishing you guys were with me.’

He nudged her shoulder with his. ‘We missed you too.’

Sam nudged him back. She checked her watch. They had another ten minutes before the Marine was due to show up again and she had to find Rodney.

‘Did you really not know about the story-telling competition?’ Daniel asked suddenly.

Sam glanced at him. Daniel was studiously looking back at the monitor. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I really didn’t know.’

‘Mitchell didn’t tell you?’ Daniel checked, flicking a look in her direction.

‘I think his mind was on other things like the possibility of getting kidnapped.’ Sam said dryly.

‘Right.’ Daniel sighed.

Sam sat back and regarded Daniel thoughtfully. There was a line between his brows; a frown twisting his lips. ‘You’re mad because Rodney knew about the story-telling and you didn’t.’

Daniel winced at her perfect summation of his state of mind. ‘Not mad exactly.’ He crossed his arm over his chest, sending the blue BDU shirt he was wearing over his t-shirt askew. ‘He isn’t talking to us.’

Sam knew the ‘he’ in question wasn’t Rodney. ‘Just because Cam isn’t talking to us, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t value our friendship.’

Daniel’s eyebrows inched towards his hairline. ‘Teal’c gave you the same speech too, huh?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Sam sighed. ‘He reminded me that I didn’t exactly talk to you guys about, uh, Pete either.’

‘Hmmm.’ Daniel’s eyes narrowed on her. ‘Why didn’t you talk to us?’ He made a whirly gesture. ‘I mean apart from the obvious?’

Sam squirmed and stood up. She paced a couple of steps away and back as she considered what to say; how much to say. It had never been an easy topic of conversation either before or after she and Jack had stopped dancing around their feelings for each other. ‘Change.’ She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I knew if I ever talked about everything, it would change the team.’ She smiled tightly. ‘It’s the same reason Jack never talked about it either.’

‘You think Cam’s scared of talking to us because he thinks things might change with the team if he does?’ Daniel asked.

‘I don’t know.’ Sam said. ‘I only know why I didn’t talk to you guys. I don’t honestly know why Cam isn’t talking to us.’

Daniel sighed heavily and pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘I guess we should be grateful he’s talking to Sheppard.’

Sam nodded in agreement.

‘And Vala said he’s checking in with his family so that’s got to be a good sign, right?’ Daniel continued.

Sam stepped up and hugged him. ‘He’ll work it out.’

Daniel hugged her back. ‘I kind of miss him.’

‘Me too.’ Sam murmured.

‘Does this mean you’re going to tell me what’s up with the two week deal?’ Daniel asked.

Sam huffed a breath of laughter into his ear. ‘No, but feel free to bug Jack about it.’

They were still hugging when the Marine came back. Sam smiled at the Marine’s embarrassment, kissed Daniel’s cheek, and told him that she’d call him later to discuss Janus’s theory of inter-dimensional time-travel.

She headed for McKay’s lab.

Rodney was frantically discussing something with Radek Zelenka. The two men were exchanging insults along with ideas in every breath. The rhythm of it had her all nostalgic for her time on Atlantis again and she lounged in the doorway, content to watch them.

Radek spotted her first and flushed. Rodney picked up on the direction of his look.

‘What?’ He snapped, whirling around, nostrils flaring with annoyance.

‘Nice to see you too, Rodney.’ Sam said brightly, entering the lab. She smiled more gently at Zelenka. ‘Radek.’

‘Colonel Carter. It is…good to see you. I should go check the progress on the systems on the South pier now we have solution, yes?’ Radek didn’t wait for an answer but picked up a datapad, darted around Sam and out of the door.

Rodney turned back to the two laptops he had running in front of him. ‘Sorry, but I don’t have time for social calls. Busy, busy.’

Sam hummed her agreement and sat down on a stool next to him. ‘Have you thought of Doctor Levinsk for the open geologist position?’

‘Levinsk?’ Rodney didn’t look up; he continued to tap away on the keyboard of one of the laptops. ‘He’s Stanford, right? The one with the insane ideas about Yellowstone? Didn’t he get kicked out of some Think Tank? And when was the last time he published anything?’

‘Last year,’ Sam said dryly, ‘he had two articles published in…’

‘Yes, yes, OK.’ Rodney harrumphed. ‘Maybe he’s not a complete waste of space.’

‘So…’

‘I’ll think about it.’ Rodney moved to the second laptop and started coding something in Ancient.

Sam tapped her fingers lightly on the top of the bench. ‘You also have an engineering position open.’

‘Who?’ Rodney asked caustically.

‘I was thinking of Doctor Novak.’ Sam slid in, trying for a casual tone.

Rodney stopped and stared at her.

‘Novak?’ Rodney frowned heavily. ‘Isn’t she permanently assigned to the Odyssey because of the Asgard core?’

‘She’s…’ Sam spread her hands out in a supplicating gesture, ‘having difficulties with the new CO.’

‘Difficulties?’ Rodney stilled.

‘He’s a misogynistic prick. Won’t listen to anything she tells him.’ Sam said succinctly. ‘Although you didn’t hear that from me.’

‘You think I’m a misogynist prick.’ Rodney waved at himself.

Sam let her smile spread across her face. ‘You were a misogynist prick, Rodney, but you’ve grown. You have respectful relationships with women that aren’t all about sex. I have it on good authority that you cuddle.’

Rodney looked horrified. ‘Jennifer would never…’

Sam simply smiled. Rodney was right; Jennifer would never be so indiscreet about their relationship but it was just too much fun to tease McKay.

‘Take that back!’

‘Too late, McKay.’ Sam grinned at him. ‘Your secret’s out.’

Rodney glared at her. If his blue eyes were weapons, she would be dead. Her grin widened.

‘Anyway, even before your growth,’ Sam made air quotes with her fingers, ‘you generally didn’t dismiss ideas because they came from somebody with breasts and a vagina,’ she pointed out, ‘you dismissed them because they were, in your opinion, stupid and wrong and in disagreement with your own opinion.’

Rodney waved his hands about his eyes. ‘Gagh! I’m not talking about breasts and vaginas with you.’

Sam felt a rush of delight at the horror in his eyes. She’d had to be good the year she had been on Atlantis because she had been his boss but winding up Rodney was fun and she enjoyed it. ‘So, Novak?’

‘Will you stop talking about breasts and vaginas?’ Rodney demanded.

‘I could do that.’ Sam promised calmly, pleased that she’d gotten her way.

‘OK, so I’ll request Novak. She’s not useless and it makes sense anyway to do some cross dissemination of information thing between her Asgard knowledge and our Ancient.’ Rodney muttered. ‘Now if that’s everything…’

Sam perched her elbows on the bench, propped up her head on her hands and regarded him thoughtfully. ‘So how are you tracking the plane?’

Rodney fidgeted, looked down at the laptop and pressed some buttons. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘I’m guessing there’s a laptop set-up,’ her eyes flickered to the one in the corner that Rodney had purposefully not looked at the whole time she’d been in the lab, ‘hacked into air control? Woolsey probably gave you the registration. I assume there’s some kind of alarm should the plane deviate substantially from its flight plan?’

Rodney rounded on her, his arms flailing around like windmills. ‘Like you don’t have something set-up too!’

She sniffed. ‘I don’t need to,’ she waited a beat, ‘I knew you’d do it.’

Rodney’s mouth fell open slightly before he snapped it back shut. He pointed at her. ‘I hate you.’

Sam smiled, eased off the stool and headed for the door. ‘Rodney?’

‘What? Aren’t you gone yet?’

There was a hint of desperation in his voice that made Sam gleeful. She really could be as petty as Rodney at times.

‘If you’re thinking of hacking into my account or Cam’s account to discover why these two weeks are an important window for the Lucien Alliance to kidnap Cam, you should know only General Landry has that information.’ Sam smirked at Rodney’s startled expression.

He knew that she knew that he was going to hack the information. She knew that he knew that she had just told him where to look. She was under orders not to tell the guys the full picture but Rodney could and, besides, she preferred to keep him out of her own files.

Sam sauntered out of the lab and back to Stargate Operations to say a polite goodbye to Woolsey, feeling satisfied. Her work on Atlantis was done for the day.

Next: Turbulence, Chapters 11-16