Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

“Thanks for waiting,” O’Neill said as he strode into his office and waved Marshall back into the visitor’s chair where Marshall had been impatiently drumming his fingers against the wood for the last half an hour.

Pilot spread its wings, stretching.  It settled back into sitting, glaring at O’Neill from its perch on the back of Marshall’s chair.

“Atlantis made contact this morning,” O’Neill informed his crisply.

John…

“Sheppard is fine,” O’Neill said before Marshall could worry, “I’ve sent their update to you – and when I say I sent it, I meant Davis sent it.”

John was fine.  That was good.  It also meant that John would shortly view the video Marshall had made for him.  Maybe it was too much, Marshall considered worriedly.  Maybe he shouldn’t have listened to Maria’s advice, maybe he should have sent something less…less. 

Marshall swallowed his nerves and straightened his spine.  He’d meant every word in the video and he’d stand by it.  He just hoped…hoped…his eyes flickered to the gyrfalcon which had turned its head to peer at him with an expression what clearly said ‘idiot.’  Marshall figured he’d learned it from McKay who had spent more time talking with Pilot than Marshall when they found themselves in the same room.

“Thank you, General,” Marshall said dryly.  “If that’s all…”

“Of course, it’s not all,” O’Neill said sarcastically. “I’m not that much of a dick to have kept you waiting for something I could have had Davis tell you.”

Marshall elected to stay silent because he and Jack both knew that O’Neill was exactly that much of a dick.

“Elizabeth Weir will not face charges of treason for her actions in Pegasus,” O’Neill bit out the words as though they were bitter on his tongue.  They probably were.  Marshall found them hard to swallow.

“What the fuck, Jack?!” Marshall blurted out.

“You’re pissed, I’m pissed,” O’Neill agreed, “but the President owes her.”

Both of them pulled the same face. 

“She’s managed to convince him that she made a genuine mistake,” O’Neill continued.  “I would have kept arguing about it, but apparently he has a country to run and he cut the meeting short.”

“He’s not going to run the country for long if he makes crappy decisions,” Marshall said bluntly.

O’Neill sighed.  “I probably should reprimand you for disrespecting our Commander-in-Chief but…” he shrugged, “I didn’t hear anything.”

Marshall snorted.  “Is she getting punished at all?”

“Shipped off to the Gamma site to oversee the admin of the scientific outpost there,” O’Neill said.  “She’s not happy about it, but I did manage to convince the President that if he let her off the hook completely he was essentially saying he didn’t care about the Marines she’d gotten killed.”

“I’m surprised you’re still Head of Homeworld,” Marshall commented, imagining how that would have gone down with the President.  Hayes was an easy-going guy, but the President had served and it was a point of honour with him.

“Me too,” O’Neill said brightly.  “Apparently that’s my punishment.”

Marshall figured it really was.  O’Neill was a soldier first and foremost.  He’d done a good job as the SGC commander, but Marshall figured half of that was because it was still a frontline command.

“Hank Landry will be confirmed as the SGC commander tomorrow,” O’Neill informed him.  “You’ll be reporting to him.”

“You know him?”

“Served together in Iraq,” O’Neill said, “he’s a good man.  Hank’s maybe a little too…you know, sane for this schtick but he’ll adapt.”

Marshall gave a short laugh.

“Daniel’s going to collar you on your way out to ask about transferring to Atlantis,” O’Neill said casually.

“And you want me to say no,” Marshall raised an eyebrow mimicking Jack’s missing Jaffa team-mate.

O’Neill sighed and leaned back in his leather chair.  “Carter’s pregnant.”

Marshall blinked.

“We’ve…we’ve been together since Daniel went glowy the first time,” O’Neill continued quietly.  “Hammond knew and we agreed to keep our marriage need to know.”

That was going to cause chaos with the betting pools, Marshall mused.

“I assume you told Jackson when he came back?” checked Marshall. 

O’Neill nodded.  “He and Teal’c both know.”

“So…”

O’Neill lifted a hand from the desk.  “With Dad dying…Carter and I…we’d already planned to make some changes.  Now…I’m transferred here and Carter is going to be assigned to Homeworld as a Special Advisor until her pregnancy is over and then…we’ll see.  She was going to take the open Head of R&D but…”

“But that would put her in Nevada,” Marshall completed. 

He could understand Jackson’s desire to move on from SG1.  Teal’c was all but gone to Dakara and the new Jaffa government; Carter and Jack were loved up and beginning a family.  Jackson probably thought he was a third wheel, despite being their platonic soulmate.

“He’d be a good fit to take over the social sciences,” O’Neill sighed.  “Weir kept those departments reporting directly to her even when she was ostensibly leading the Expedition and McKay would sooner stab himself in the arm than take them on.”

“I’ll talk with him,” Marshall offered.

O’Neill nodded, sadness drifting across his face as though he was already anticipating Daniel’s departure to Atlantis.

Marshall twitched in his seat and he had to take a breath to relax his muscles. 

O’Neill picked up a folder and passed it to him over the desk. 

Marshall took it from him curious.

“It’s the permission to read in both your younger children,” O’Neill said. 

“Thank you,” Marshall said sincerely. 

He’d arranged for Maria and Jamie to join him and Ethan in D.C. for a weekend before he shipped out to Atlantis.  It would be easier explaining his absence to them beyond travelling to meet his soulmate.

“It helped that you registered positive for the ATA gene,” O’Neill said dryly.

Marshall hummed. 

“And Danny got excited about your youngest son being some kind of linguistic savant?” O’Neill smirked at him.  “You might find your entire family signed up before long.”

“If it helps me explain why I can’t make Thanksgiving this year, I’ll take it,” Marshall joked. 

O’Neill offered an exaggerated but understanding wince.  “Right!” He clapped his hands together.  “You have an Expedition to sort and I, uh, have lots of Very Important Things to do.”

Marshall took it as the dismissal it was and headed for his own office. 

Ford greeted him, before he could enter, rising from the chair behind his own desk which was situated just to the left of the doorway.  “Colonel, Doctor Jackson insisted on waiting in your office.”

Marshall hid his grimace.  “Does he have coffee?”

“Yes, sir,” Ford agreed, “and there’s a fresh pot of hot water for the tea you prefer, sir.”

“Good man, Ford,” Marshall waved him back to his desk. 

Ford had requested assignment to Atlantis and Marshall had granted it.  He didn’t want John doing scut work and admin for him, even if John had ended up in a pseudo XO role with Everett.

He walked into his office and shut the door.

Jackson was in his usual attire of SGC blue fatigues teamed with the black t-shirt, the shirt worn open in a way that made the Marine in Marshall itch to yell about appearance and discipline.  He was gazing into the mug of coffee he held as though it held the secrets of the universe.

“Doctor Jackson,” Marshall greeted him calmly and slid the folder he held onto his desk.  He cast a longing look at the laptop where the update from Atlantis would be waiting for him. 

“Colonel,” Jackson blinked owlishly at him from behind his wireframe glasses.

Marshall fixed himself a mug of tea and sat down in a visitor’s chair across from Jackson’s.  “Jack said you were going to ask me about coming to Atlantis.”

Jackson wrinkled his nose.  “Did he order you not to let me because…”

Marshall held up his hand.  “He hasn’t ordered me to do anything.”  He gestured with his mug.  “As much as he might want to order me not to let you off planet.”

Jackson frowned.  “I don’t think…”

“You and he may be platonic soulmates, Jackson,” Marshall said, “but the man’s going to worry about you, especially given you have a penchant for getting into trouble when the rest of your soulmates aren’t around.”

A hint of a blush streaked across Jackson’s cheekbones.  “Well, that’s…unfortunately true.”  He sighed.

Marshall looked at Jackson’s dejected body language and repressed a sigh of his own.  He really wasn’t the right type of guy for emotional talks.  “Look, professionally my stance is this…”

Jackson’s gaze shot to him.

“…you want Atlantis, we’ll make space for you,” Marshall said succinctly.  “You’re the foremost expert on Ancients and Ancient, you’re a first contact specialist, and you run a tight department.  I’m not going to say no to having an asset like yourself on the team.”

“But?”

“But, personally, I think you’d be better served if you got over the feeling you’re being abandoned by the rest of your soulmates and accepted that they’re not leaving you behind.”

“I don’t think you…”

“Jack told me about Carter,” Marshall said.  “I get it.  They’re moving here; Teal’c’s with the Jaffa.  You’re wondering where that leaves you.”

“I don’t want to be on SG1 without them,” Jackson said strongly.

“Then, don’t be,” Marshall said.  “Ask for reassignment of your department HQ to the Pentagon.  Be there for Carter and Jack.  It’s a lot of change for them.  You think they’re not going to need you?”

Jackson’s face grew contemplative.  “I think I’m scared they don’t.”

“I can say unequivocally that they’re always going to need you,” Marshall said dryly.  “They missed the hell out of you when you…you know.”

“Died and Ascended?” Jackson gulped some coffee.  “They did OK without me.  Both times.”

“They did,” Marshall agreed, “and they’ll do OK again, but they’ll always choose for you to stay if you give them a choice.”

Jackson set the mug down.  “You know when we met as soulmates, all of us were married except Sam so…then I get back and suddenly Jack and Sam are married, Teal’c’s shacked up with Ishta and…I’m the odd one out.”

Marshall sipped his tea to prevent himself from pointing out the obvious that Jackson had chosen to move on; had Ascended of his own volition.  Had he thought his soulmates would stand still in his absence?

“Everything smoothed out, but it hit me again yesterday when they broke the news about the baby,” Jackson sighed, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt.  “I just…maybe I need to move on too.”

“Maybe you do,” Marshall said, “or maybe you need to have this conversation with them.”  Because it was making him uncomfortable.

“You really think they need me here?” pressed Jackson, insecurity gleaming out of his blue eyes.

“I think a baby is a big change and Jack…” Marshall looked meaningfully at Jackson so he didn’t have to put the loss of Jack’s son into words.

Jackson nodded his understanding.

“I also think Jack’s job is insane and he’s likely to shoot a Senator before he makes ninety days in the job,” Marshall added.  “I think he and Carter need support.  They’ll do OK without you, and it’s not your obligation or your duty to provide it.  But I know where I want to be when my soulmate needs support.”

Jackson nodded again slowly.  He rose from his chair and Marshall got to his feet as Jackson walked to the door.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” Jackson said.  “Thanks.”  He left the office, closing the door behind him.

Marshall took his tea and headed to his desk, eager to log on and get to the Atlantis update.  He’d just entered his password when there was a knock.  He sighed and called for Ford to enter.

“Sorry, sir, Richard Woolsey is here to see you if you have a moment,” Ford darted a look behind him giving away the proximity of the visitor.

“Send him in, Ford,” Marshall gave in.  He and Woolsey would be working closely together; he needed their relationship to be on a good footing.

Ford stepped back and Woolsey entered, dapper in an expensive navy suit with matching pinstripe tie.

The balding IOA rep looked nervous.  “Colonel, thank you for seeing me.”

“Tea?” Marshall offered, motioning at the refreshments.

Woolsey shook his head.  “Thank you.  My apologies for coming without an appointment, and I know we have a meeting scheduled tomorrow, but I came here to speak to you about something of importance which couldn’t wait.”

Marshall ushered him into a seat.  “How can I help?”

Woolsey rubbed the fingers of one hand together as though he missed the shape of a pen between them.  “I’ve been informed that you have a soul animal and that it belongs to Major Sheppard.”

“Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard,” Marshall corrected gently, “and yes.”

Woolsey had clearly been expecting him to deny it.  He blinked away a stunned expression.  “I see.”

“You have concerns, I take it?” Marshall asked politely.

“Yes,” Woolsey leaped at the prompt, “concerns.”  He motioned with his hand.  “Will Maj…Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard continue to report to you?”

Marshall debated internally for a moment before sighing and going with outright honesty.  “Right now I don’t know if John even intends to accept me as his soulmate.”

Woolsey’s mouth dropped open a touch before it snapped shut.

“I’ve had the benefit of advocating for him,” Marshall said, “and it was easy to make the link to…” he waved at Pilot who appeared behind him, perched on the back of his chair in his usual pose.  “But John and I have never met and I’m uncertain whether he’s even met my soul animal yet.”  He cast a look toward the laptop.  “I’m hoping to get some insight from the update they’ve sent through.”

Woolsey nodded slowly.  “I see.”

“If John would prefer not to pursue our soulmate bond, I’ll remain on Earth,” Marshall said.  “Or if he wants to meet but then decides against us, I’ll return to Earth.”

Woolsey’s expression softened.  “Most people do not reject a soulmate bond, Colonel.”

“Maybe, but I’m not counting my chickens,” Marshall said dryly.  “If he does accept me, we’ve already sent a package to Atlantis when they dialled in informing Sheppard that staying in the Air Force or resuming his civilian contract is up to him.”  He reached for his tea.  “If he stays, we’re proposing he’ll assume the role of Wing Commander over the ‘jumpers and any other flight capable vessels based on Atlantis; he’ll be expected to continue his own research.  He’ll report directly to the SGC commander.  He’ll have the choice of retaining his first contact team or handing that off to Major Lorne.”

“And missions?” asked Woolsey sharply.

“Decided jointly,” Marshall said, “but I’ll have final say if they involve Atlantis airspace directly or if he’s doing first contact.”

Woolsey remained silent for a long moment.  “The situation still has potential for issues.”

Marshall nodded.  “We’re aware, but regulations state that all accommodation will be made so that soulmates can serve together where possible.”  He gestured.  “If John decides to stay in the Air Force and in Atlantis, I’m sure we’d both be happy to have your assistance in drawing up some policy guidelines and protocols for us to use.”

Woolsey nodded.  “I’d be happy to assist.”  He cocked his head.  “Do you think it’s likely that Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard will choose to come back to Earth?”

“Not from everything I know about him,” Marshall admitted, “but until he confirms that’s the case, it remains an option.”

“Well.  This has been an…enlightening discussion and it explains your interim status,” Woolsey nodded as though to himself. 

“May I ask how you found out?” asked Marshall carefully.

Woolsey frowned.  “One of the scientists, Doctor Kavanaugh, requested time to discuss their assignment as he doesn’t want to return to Atlantis, and he mentioned it.”

Marshall hummed.

“You think he told me to cause trouble,” stated Woolsey, raising his eyebrows sceptically.

“I think Kavanaugh has a personal loyalty to Elizabeth Weir and was the second most vocal complainant against the military,” Marshall pointed out calmly.

Woolsey pressed his lips together and fidgeted with his cuffs.  “You may be right,” he acknowledged grudgingly.  He sighed and met Marshall’s gaze.  “We’ll need to work closely together, Colonel.  I don’t want to repeat Doctor Weir’s mistakes, but by the same token, I don’t believe the military should act without oversight.”

“I agree we need to work closely together,” Marshall said.  “We can’t afford to be at odds in a warzone.”

“Warzone?” asked Woolsey tentatively.

“Pegasus is a warzone,” Marshall expanded briskly.

“Right, of course,” Woolsey turned pale, sweat breaking out on his upper lip.  “I, uh, I’ve never…” he took a breath, “I’ve never been off world or in a warzone before.”

Marshall nodded.  “But I have and so has John Sheppard, and so have the Marines who are charged with your protection.”

Woolsey sighed.  “Right, right.”  He straightened his cuffs.  “I assume General O’Neill informed you that Doctor Weir will not face charges?”

Marshall grimaced. “He did.”  He couldn’t help the note of anger which strayed into his voice.

“I’ve objected officially to the lightness of her reprimand and punishment,” Woolsey stated directly.  His gaze met Marshall’s.  “Her assignment to the Gamma site is not enough given she was responsible for the deaths of three men, the torture of another, and the harassment of yet another in the aftermath.”

“I’m not going to disagree with you,” Marshall commented wryly. 

“Do you believe she orchestrated my being informed of your soulmate situation?” Woolsey asked bluntly.

Marshall shrugged.  “I believe she wants Atlantis and is prepared to orchestrate getting back there any which way she can.  Causing trouble between you and me?  Undermining New Leadership Tactic 101.  I’ll have Ford check how Kavanaugh got hold of the news; it’s not exactly public knowledge.”

Woolsey hummed under his breath.  He stood.  “Thank you for your time today, Colonel.  I’ll have more questions for our meeting tomorrow, but I am looking forward to working with you,” he paused, glancing to Pilot, “and your soulmate.”

Marshall murmured a similar sentiment and watched as Woolsey took his leave, closing the office door behind him.  Marshall immediately returned his attention to his laptop pulling up the update from Atlantis and quickly scanning the contents.

He zeroed in on anything from John first.  He knew it wasn’t professional, but he just needed…his eyes caught on the first document on the stack from John.

It was a leave request for a soulmate search; Form Alpha-Sierra-Zero-One.

Marshall breathed out sharply.  He clicked it open and read the contents. 

John wanted to find his soulmate.

He knew it wasn’t anyone on Atlantis or deployed with the Daedalus.

He was requesting leave on Earth to allow the white wolf to lead him to his soulmate.

A white wolf.

Marshall’s soul animal was a white wolf.  He frowned.  He had the vague memory of a playing with a white puppy when he was a young child.  Had that…

He shook the thought away.

John’s final note was a request to provide every accommodation to his soulmate if they had approached his command in the course of their own soulmate search for him.  He believed they were military and would likely be an asset to the programme, recounting that the wolf had already killed a Wraith.

A part of Marshall preened at that the news that he had already protected his soulmate; the Marine part was furious a Wraith had gotten close enough to be a threat to John.

He allowed himself another moment to re-read the request, to assure himself that John might not know who he was, but that John wanted him anyway; that John wanted him enough to leave Atlantis to search for him.

He felt a flutter of nerves as he considered that John was possibly watching the video he’d made. He hoped John wouldn’t be disappointed that his soulmate was Marshall.

Marshall re-read over the request and closed it.  John was open to finding his soulmate; Marshall just had to hang onto that.

He turned his attention to the files.  He wanted to know how a Wraith had ended up on the city and close to John…maybe the AARs would…

His door opened abruptly, flying back and almost hitting the wall.

McKay stormed in, holding a laptop precariously in the grip of one hand.  Pilot squawked and mantled its wings, concerned.

Ford was scurrying from his desk to intervene, but Marshall waved him back.  He reminded himself he liked McKay.  He reminded himself that McKay was John’s best friend.  He reminded himself…

“Have you seen this?!” McKay demanded, his face a worrying shade of red as he slumped into a chair despondently.  “I’m dead!”

What?!

The gyrfalcon flew over to comfort McKay and Marshall sighed.  He let go of the plan for an orderly review of the Atlantis update. 

“Ford!” Marshall called out loudly.  “Order some more coffee!”

o-O-o

“…and McKay’s still freaking out that Past Him didn’t have hair,” Marshall smirked.  “Not putting footage or pictures into the reports was a work of genius.  It’s driving him nuts.”

John grinned at the video playing out of his soulmate on his laptop.  On screen, Marshall sobered.

“I can’t believe we’ll be in Atlantis in another five days,” Marshall said.  “I can’t wait to see you.”

John bit his lip, nerves rushing through him at the thought.  The past three weeks have gone by both excruciatingly slowly and amazingly fast.   

“It’s been great having the videos, but I want eyes on you,” Marshall continued. 

It had been great having the videos.  It had given John an introduction and insight into his soulmate that soothed some of the yearning.  It also created a better picture of who Marshall was than his service jacket. 

He’d been surprised that the file had been included in the first update, but Marshall had made it available to him. 

“I’ve seen yours; it’s only fair,” had been the note.

Colonel Sumner was a career Marine; a dedicated and decorated officer, a hero who had seen frontline action in Iraq and Afghanistan before his transfer to the Stargate programme.  He’d built the first Alpha site, then the second, before taking compassionate leave to look after his wife who had ultimately died of cancer.  On his return, he’d been assigned to build a Beta site for training and the build of the F-wing. 

It was a little startling to realise that if John hadn’t agreed to the Atlantis Expedition, he would have been transferred there and he and Marshall would have already met.   

His Colonel persona was gruff, professional, by-the-book. 

But the videos had given John a peek into Marshall as a man.  He was dryly funny, with a warm sense of humour.  He was caring.  He was a good friend who Dillon had spoken about at length in his video message to John.  He was a loving father, and the video John had received from Marshall’s kids had been both hilarious and terrifying.  But they’d welcomed him to the family and their acceptance eased the worry in John.

He and John both loved college football.  Marshall had a love of crime novels and true crime documentaries.  He’d almost become a prosecutor, but his family had a history of service.       

He was looking forward to learning more about Marshall when they met.

Snow nudged his hand.  John absently stroked over its head.  

“I think you’re right, by the way,” Marshall said.  “As much as I want to just beam down and see you, I think us meeting in your quarters alone is a good plan.  I mean, everyone knows, but seeing each other for the first time…I like the idea of having Pilot lead me to you, and it just being us and the soul animals.”

Even as he smiled at the name for the gyrfalcon, John breathed a sigh of relief.  He’d tentatively suggested the plan in his last video message to Marshall.

Marshall’s gaze darted off camera to the side and John knew the video was about to end.  “I have to go, especially if I’m going to make sure this makes the update.”  His blue gaze fixed directly to the camera, staring down it as though he could look John directly in the eye.  “The next time I talk to you will be in person.  I can’t wait, John.  It might be weird to say, and I know I have Pilot, but…I already miss you.”

“I miss you too,” John murmured.

“Stay safe, John,” Marshall said and waved goodbye.

The screen went dark.

John sighed and closed the video.  He checked the time and grimaced.  He didn’t have time to re-watch it again before the mission.

He set his laptop aside and stretched.  He’d gone for his run early that morning, knowing he wanted to watch the video for the umpteenth time – he was absolutely denying how many times he watched Marshall’s videos to anyone who asked.

He finished tying up his boots and headed out with Snow at his side.  They went through the usual breakfast debate and Bailey handed a bone over to Snow without any discussion. 

John slid into a chair at a table with Teyla, Kanaan and Lorne. 

“Morning, Colonel,” Lorne greeted him cheerfully as Teyla and Kanaan looked up from their own meals to nod at John.

John nodded back at everyone.  His lips twitched at the sight of Teyla and Kanaan holding hands across the table.  He and Lorne exchanged an amused look.

“Are you ready for the mission, sir?” Lorne asked.

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” John said.  The jumper was prepped, the team was briefed.  The test dive into the ocean had been repeated three times with modifications to the jumper’s shields and configuration made each time.  It wasn’t the same as piloting the jumper in space or through the airspace on a planet, but John felt confident he’d be able to manoeuvre her.

They were all hoping that they’d be able to kill the Wraith before it woke up.                                                                                                        

Radek slapped his tray on the table and took one of the empty seats.  “Your proposal to repair the flight capabilities of the city was approved.”

John nodded, not bothering to hide his pleasure in the news.  “I know.”

Teyla tilted her head.  “You wish for the city to fly?”  A note of wonder sparkled through the words.

“Yes,” John said, scooping up some scrambled egg.  “If we can get the city flight-ready, we can move her.”  He grimaced.  “We’d need a fully functioning shield for space though or the outer parts of the city would be heavily damaged.”

“One step at a time,” commented Radek, pushing up his glasses.  “The main flight components need much repair.”

“You intend to take the city to your own planet?” asked Kanaan. 

His blunt question had Teyla sending him a chiding look.

John shook his head.  “The proposal is to relocate to another planet in Pegasus, likely closer to our home galaxy to reduce travel times for the Daedalus and Prometheus, but still within Pegasus.”

Kanaan looked relieved.

Lorne gestured with his mug.  “Tactically our command agreed with Colonel Sheppard’s position that this location is compromised.  The Wraith know where we are and it’ll only be a matter of time before they bring another armada.  The Genii had our gate address and we don’t know if that information was disseminated further than them.  If we can restore flight capability, getting the city to a new location is strategically a good move.”

“It is a good plan,” Teyla agreed. 

“One that requires a great deal of work,” Radek muttered.

“You can’t tell me that you’re not excited about working on the city’s flight systems,” John pointed his fork at his friend.

Radek’s eyes gleamed brightly with amusement.  “At least I will not have to be underwater.”

“Aren’t some of the mechanisms underwater?” asked Lorne with a perfectly innocent expression.

Radek glowered and pointed his knife at him.  “I do not like you!”

Lorne laughed.

Teyla nudged John.  “Did you receive a message from Marvin?”

John nodded.  “He sounds like he’s doing great.” 

Marvin had returned through the ‘gate along with a number of other patients with their second dial in to Earth.  Alicia had determined all of them required long term care they were just not equipped to deal with on Atlantis itself. 

Biro had accepted the position as interim Chief Medical Officer on Atlantis when Carson had requested leave to stay on Earth because of his mother’s failing health.

It looked like John and Rodney would be the only previous members of the leadership left.

John scowled at his almost empty plate as he considered the latest update on Elizabeth.  She’d been given a final warning when it had transpired that she’d tried to interfere with the new supply requests for Atlantis.  According to Marshall, O’Neill had immediately demanded she be examined for a Goa’uld and when that test had come up negative, Woolsey had gone ballistic and whatever he’d said to the President had meant Elizabeth had been immediately shipped out to the Gamma site.  John didn’t think her being exiled off world was enough punishment for what she’d done and he never would.

Atlantis sent a rush of agreement across his mind and somehow John knew Atlantis would never accept her through the ‘gate or beaming through the shield ever again.  He offered his own wholehearted acceptance of that in return.  Snow huffed beside him.

“You are thinking of Elizabeth again,” Teyla noted.

John grimaced. 

Lorne sent him a sympathetic smile.

“I just wish we could have gotten better justice for you and Jamui’s family,” John murmured.

Teyla’s expression hardened.  “If my people ever come into contact with her again, she will be dragged back to New Athos for our justice.”

“I’ll help,” Radek muttered.

“I’ll be…busy looking at something going on in the other direction,” John offered awkwardly.

Lorne grinned.  “I’ll be helping my Wing Commander look at something going on in the other direction.”

They all burst out laughing.

An hour later, John happily piloted the jumper to the spot over the ocean where they’d make the dive.  He could hear Radek muttering in the back as he monitored the jumper’s configuration on his laptop.  The small contingent of Marines with him sat in perfect silence, even Cadman.  Teyla gave him a nod of confidence from her place in the front passenger seat.  He mentally opened the radio transmission with his mind.

“Jumper Six to Daedalus,” John said crisply.  “We are at the dive coordinates, check on Dracula.”

“Dracula is still asleep,” Caldwell reported brusquely.

“Good, let’s hope it stays that way,” John said.  “Commencing dive.”

“We have you on sensors,” Caldwell confirmed.

John aimed the nose of the jumper at the water at the angle he needed and pushed her forward.  There was a mild complaint from the jumper which whispered over his mind; she didn’t like the water but because it was John she accepted the command.

“Can I just say calling a Wraith after Dracula is awesome?” commented Cadman.  “Who decided the codename?”

“Hermiod,” John said cheerfully.

Cadman pulled a face and John hid his amusement.

“Doctor Singh told me the story of your Dracula,” Teyla chipped in.  “She believes that the Wraith may be the origins of the vampire myth on your planet.”

“Drains you of life; unnaturally strong; sleeps occasionally; it fits,” Markham said.

“But vampires are meant to be sexy,” Cadman argued. 

“Are they though?” Radek said.  “They are not portrayed that way in the original fairy tales.”

“He’s right,” Stackhouse said, “but vampires are always played by good-looking guys on screen.”

John listened with half an ear as a debate broke out over which fictional vampire was sexiest.

Snow looked at the Marines with quiet disdain.

John quietly navigated the jumper closer to the coordinates for the Wraith ship, the lights at the front of the jumper cutting through the deep dark of the water. 

Radek broke away from his argument that that Angel was sexier than Spike in the Buffy series, (and John was Team Spike all the way if anyone ever asked him his opinion), and frowned at his tablet.  “Colonel Sheppard, we are receiving an automated transmission from the drilling station.”

The jumper almost tugged itself out of John’s control. 

John held it firmly.

“It is trying to take control of the jumper,” Radek announced a moment later.

“You don’t say,” John said.  “I have her.”

“I am blocking the transmission,” Radek said out loud.  He tapped something on his tablet.

John could feel the instant it worked; the jumper stopped trying to get away from him.  He relaxed his grip again, steering towards the right.

The twisted and misshapen hull of the Wraith vessel came into view.  John could see damage from an explosion in the forward section compounded by crash damage along the bottom.  He was surprised the shield was holding enough to maintain the integrity of the ship.

“Well, that does not look ominous or anything,” Cadman joked.

John checked the coordinates and manoeuvred right.  The scans had shown the dart bay door were open although protected by the Wraith ship’s shield.

“Radek…”

“Modulating our shield frequency to match in three, two, one…” Radek confirmed.

They slipped through the shield and into the dart bay.

The bay was filled with darts; maybe a hundred of them were lined up in neat order. 

John’s mouth went dry at the thought that they were just in one ship.  He remembered the sound of them over Atlantis when the Hive ship attacked, and God…he was just realising that they hadn’t even fully deployed to attack them.   

“Jumper Six to Daedalus, check on Dracula,” he ordered.

“Still asleep,” Caldwell confirmed. 

“We’re in the belly of the ship,” John informed him.  “Let us know if it wakes up.”

“Will do,” Caldwell said.

The jumper nudged him and…that was not his jumper.

John checked the scanner.  “There’s another jumper in the bay.  It’s cloaked.”

“Woah! No way!” Cadman said.

Radek moved forward to examine the monitor in the front.  “Interesting.”

“I’ll pull up alongside it,” John set down gently next to the cloaked jumper.  He mentally engaged the cloak on their own as he turned off the engines.  He turned to the back of the jumper and Radek slipped into the back passenger seat in the front compartment.

“Markham, Stackhouse,” John ordered, “you investigate the other jumper with Radek.  Radek, stay with them, download everything from the jumper, see if it’s salvageable.”

“We will not be able to take it into the water,” Radek warned him.  “Not without a lot of changes to its configuration and…”

“If we moved some of its power cells over to us though, could we extend our shield around it?” asked John.

Radek frowned.  “I will review while you are on mission.”

John nodded.  “Hardy, Cadman and Reyes,” he pointed at them, “rig the power system to blow when we leave, download the computer onto the tablet, and then take out the computer systems. We want this ship neutralised and unusable.”

“Got it, Colonel,” Cadman gave him a mock salute, but her face was serious.

“Bishop, Santori, you’re with me and Teyla,” John accepted the P90 from Stackhouse and clipped it to his jacket.  “We’re going to neutralise Dracula.”

“That sounds so wrong,” Cadman said.

John shot her look which told her in no uncertain terms to focus on her mission.  He made a final call to the Daedalus to forewarn they were going silent and only to contact them if the Wraith woke up.

“Let’s move out.”  He mentally nudged the jumper to open the back hatch and did the same with the neighbouring jumper.

He spared a glance as his team moved out; the jumper was empty.  He held his gun carefully in one, the hand-held Atlantan device in the other scanning for life signs ahead.  Snow loped slightly ahead of him.

Another day of wandering through the corridors of a Wraith ship, John mused.

They reached an intersection and the eight of them split into their groups.  John and his team followed to the left in the direction where Hermiod had managed to generally locate the Wraith’s signal.

They walked in silence, the sounds of their footsteps loud in the echoing corridor, their breathing audible in the quiet.   John frowned at the dusty floors until he realised that the dust was in patches; fallen bodies of Wraith crumbled to nothing with age.

John heard two-clicks in his ear. 

The signal that the Wraith was awake.

He held up a fist, heart pounding and checked the life signs.  It was still just them in the corridor; still nothing up ahead. 

Teyla’s wide eyes darted to him and he shook his head. 

John moved them forward, slower.

Snow pressed close.

They paused at another intersection.  Teyla hung back to protect the rear as John tried to accurately guess which corridor would take them closer to the Wraith.

Snow nudged him right and John nodded.

They set off again…

Two gunshots sounded in quick succession behind him.

John spun around – the Marines were down; blood forming under the shattered remains of their heads…

Teyla stood at the bottom of the corridor, gun aimed at John.

Snow leaped for her…

She raised her gun…

John dropped the tablet and brought his own weapon to bear…

She fired.

Snow whimpered as the bullet hit; the wolf flinched and dropped to the ground, dissolving into mist.

John’s heart clenched painfully in his chest and he forced the scream building in his throat to die.  Fear that she’d killed the soul animal, hurt his soulmate or the bond stampeded through him, but he pushed it aside to focus his weapon.

“Don’t make me do this, Teyla!” John said.

Teyla suddenly cried out, one of her hands going to her head as her eyes closed and…she collapsed to the ground.

John hurried forward, ignoring the bloodied bodies of the two Marines to reach his team-mate.  He checked her pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when she had one.  He fumbled through his vest for zip ties to secure her.

Suddenly, a cold presence slid across his mind.  It wasn’t the comforting caress of Atlantis or the playful nudge of the jumper but an icy grip of an alien…

John fell to his knees, eyes shutting automatically as pain rocketed through him as he sought to force the presence out, out, out…

“Atlantean…”

The hiss of words had him forcing his eyes open, jaw clenched as he stared up into a grey mottled face with slicked-back black hair; a Wraith Queen.

She smiled, tongue sliding out to lick over her pointed teeth.

The pain in his head increased and John gratefully fell into blackness.

o-O-o

Marshall checked his watch and frowned.  If his calculations were correct, John would be leaving for the mission to the Wraith ship within the next hour.  He sighed and repressed the urge to pace the tiny space of the individual bunkroom he had been assigned on the Prometheus. 

Pilot watched him from his place on the back of the chair with a judging expression.

John was an accomplished officer and he was going to go on missions.  Marshall had to get used to that, used to worrying about his soulmate.  He reminded himself that he’d had gotten used to worrying about Ethan being on missions, knowing his kid was going through the Stargate and into trouble.  (Well, in fairness, he worried about all his kids pretty equally – Maria had a clumsy streak which had led to four broken bones in her twenty-three years of life, and Jamie loved dangerous outdoor sports which had seen him take two trips to the ER in as many years).

He sat down on the bunk and pulled over his laptop switching it on.  He immediately ignored the waiting emails – most of them from McKay or Woolsey – and clicked through to John’s latest video that they’d received thanks to their long-range communications to Atlantis.

“Hey, Marshall,” John smiled shyly down the camera.

Marshall felt his breath catch.  John was just so stupidly good-looking.  He let most of John’s message wash over him, and just soaked up the sound of his soulmate speaking.  Most of it was an update on John’s life in Atlantis and Marshall had it memorised already; Teyla was loved up with Kanaan, Lorne had excelled in his jumper flight lesson, John hated inventory and paperwork and couldn’t wait to hand the city over to Marshall.  He tuned back in towards the end just after John’s proposal for them to meet alone.

“I, uh, I can’t wait to show you Atlantis,” John said, “she’s beautiful and…home.  I hope you’ll feel at home here with me.”

There were nerves in his eyes and his voice as though John couldn’t quite believe that Marshall would want to make a home with John.  Marshall felt a rush of anger at John’s family.  His soulmate had explained the estrangement in a few clipped words which still made Marshall’s blood boil and want to meet with John’s father to have words of his own.  No matter, Marshall thought determinedly, he and the kids would love John going forward.

Marshall wasn’t surprised when Pilot launched himself across the room to land on his shoulder.

“I should sign off,” John continued on screen, rubbing the back of his neck, “just…”

Marshall waited while John struggled with his words.

“Even with Snow I…” John continued eventually, “sometimes I don’t think I quite believe it, you know?  That I get a soulmate, that I get someone who…I just…” he gave a headshake, eyes dropping from the camera before looking back up, “I just want this to be real.”

He moved suddenly, shaking himself as though he really was Pilot and had feathers to sort and smooth. 

“Ignore me, that…I should edit that out,” John said self-consciously.  He looked back down the camera.  “Just…get here soon.  Safe travels, Marshall.”

The screen went black.

Marshall allowed himself to sigh out loud in the privacy of his room where nobody could tease him that he was acting like a teenager. 

He wished he could make the Prometheus move faster.  He just wanted to be in Atlantis already, wanted to be with John already so he could hold him and reassure him that it was all real.

A loud knock on the bunk door startled him.  He checked his watch.  It was still early for most of the travellers on the Prometheus.

Marshall knocked his laptop shut and called for whoever it was to enter.  The young private on the other side looked terrified.

“Sorry to disturb you, Colonel,” the curly-haired guy managed to stutter out, “Colonel Pendergast has invited you to the bridge.”

Right.

Marshall nodded, standing.  He checked he had everything.  He missed the weight of a weapon on his hip, but his knife was in its sheath strapped to his ankle.  He straightened the cuffs on his fatigues and told the waiting soldier to lead the way.  For a relatively small ship the Prometheus was a bit of a warren.

Marshall dismissed the private at the entrance to the bridge and his voice had Lionel Pendergast turning to usher him in.

“Colonel,” Pendergast said cheerfully.

“Colonel,” Marshall replied, walking up to stand next to the commander of the ship.  He remembered how he’d once made fun of Jack for having a problem being on a ship with Ronson and the blurred lines of command, but he had a whole new appreciation for it with his trip to Atlantis.

“Oh, you’re here, good,” McKay blustered in, holding his tablet in one hand and a go-cup of coffee in the other.

Marshall shot Pendergast a questioning look.

“Doctor McKay had a proposal,” Pendergast said dryly.  “McKay?”  

“Right,” McKay took a gulp of coffee.  “We’re about ten minutes away from P4C152.”

“The old Alpha site?” Marshall noted.

McKay nodded.  “It’s abandoned with a land gate.”  He bounced back on his heels and beamed.  “We could stop there and ‘gate straight to Atlantis.”

Marshall stared at him.  “What?”

“We could make a stop,” McKay gestured beaming down with the hand holding the tablet, “get to Atlantis a few days quicker.  I would have mentioned it sooner but I, uh, didn’t think about it until now.”

Ten minutes to the planet.

Maybe they’d beam down in twenty.

A few minutes to call Atlantis and…

He could be in Atlantis in less than an hour.  He could be there when John got back from the mission.

He hesitated though.  Was his desire to see John overriding his professionalism?  Wouldn’t it be more professional to wait and stay on the ship?

But then the memory of John’s video slid over his mind again and his lips firmed.

“Colonel?” Marshall checked with Pendergast.

“Your call, Colonel,” Pendergast said, lifting his hands away from his chair briefly.  “It’s not going to unduly delay us to stop and beam down a forward party.”

Marshall registered the term and nodded.  It would be unfair to offload all the transferring personnel to Atlantis, equipment and supplies – and frankly, they didn’t have the wherewithal to get most of it through a ‘gate; they needed the beam down technology.  But a forward party…

“McKay, anyone you want in the forward party, inform them and get them organised; what they can carry only,” Marshall ordered.  “We ship out in thirty.”

McKay’s eyes went wide, but he was moving, juggling his laptop and coffee to make the radio calls.

Marshall turned to Pendergast.  “I’m estimating thirty to get organised and for a beam down.”

Pendergast nodded.  “I’ll arrange scans of the planet to make sure it’s safe.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Marshall headed back out of the bridge.  He tapped his own earpiece.  “Bates, Ford, Teldy and Vega; respond.”  He barely acknowledged the confirmations in his ear.  “Gear up and pack to ‘gate to Atlantis, carry only.  We’ll beam down to a planet in thirty.  Meet me on the bridge.”

He briefly checked in with Woolsey to see if he wanted to join them but the IOA rep eschewed the invite, choosing to stay with the ship.

Five minutes later he was in his quarters packing up his duffle.  Most of his belongings and clothes were already stored in one of the containers in the hold so it was only the small amount he’d had in his room he needed to pack.  He put in the laptop last, remonstrated with himself when he was tempted to delay and watch the video again.  He changed into the Atlantis off-world black uniform; pulled on his flak vest and cap.

Pilot was excited; flying back and forth, unable to stay still.  The soul bird’s primary objective – to lead Marshall to his soulmate – was about to be fulfilled. 

Marshall followed Pilot as he flew ahead of him, back through the winding corridors to first the armoury for a rifle, and then to the bridge. 

It didn’t surprise him to see the military personnel he’d selected already there ahead of time.  He nodded an acknowledgement to them all.

“We’re ‘gating to Atlantis, sir?” Bates asked briskly.

“Yes,” Marshall confirmed.  “McKay realised we were going to pass by the old Alpha site.”

“You know it’s something we need to think about as a tactic going forward, sir,” Bates said, “it’d make sense to use a staging base closer to our galaxy and do supply runs back and forth from it rather than the ships always travelling all the way to the city.”

“Plus it would minimise our traceability within Pegasus space,” Teldy nodded approvingly.  “Good suggestion, Sergeant.”

It was a good suggestion and it was exactly the reason why Marshall had argued to have Bates assigned to the Expedition.  Luckily Bates had jumped at leaving the Beta site and joining Marshall again.

Ford fidgeted with his vest.  His fingers ghosting over the gun clipped to the front.  “How many scientists are coming with us, sir?”

“I left that to McKay,” Marshall glanced at his watch, “he should be…”

“Here!” McKay bustled in, a hefty backpack over one shoulder, and two other bags. 

Doctor Porter, who McKay had bragged about recruiting for the Expedition for almost an entire day, trailed behind with a similar three bag set-up. 

Jackson’s recommendation for the new Head of Social Sciences, Doctor Nyan Bedrosia, followed after with a more sensible single backpack.  The shy but cheerful anthropologist was an alien transplant who had saved SG1 on a mission.  He was competent and brilliant in his own right.

“Ready, we’re ready,” McKay said breathlessly. 

“May I help you with your pack, Doctor Porter?” Bates offered. 

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Porter grinned at Bates, all sunshine-y dimples which had Bates smiling back at her.  Marshall hid his smirk.

McKay rolled his eyes.  “My bags are heavier than hers!”

Marshall jerked his head at Ford who stepped up to assist.

“Colonel?” Marshall turned to Pendergast.

“Scans show the planet is deserted bar some small wildlife,” Pendergast confirmed.  “We’ll beam you directly in front of the Stargate and wait for you to confirm the dial in and IDC have been confirmed by Atlantis.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Marshall said.  He stood straight, Pilot on his shoulder.

The transport beam flashed over him turning his world white for a moment.  When his vision cleared he was on a planet, wind in his face.  The scent of earth and leaves filled his nose.  The clearing was empty bar the DHD.

McKay hurried over to dial the city while the group got out of the path of the wormhole splashback.  The ‘gate lit up and the wormhole engaged with a rush of energy.

McKay tapped in his IDC while Marshall went for his radio.

“Atlantis, this is Colonel Sumner, do you copy?” Marshall said briskly.

“Colonel, this is Atlantis, we read you and we’ve registered Doctor McKay’s IDC,” the Canadian twang wasn’t one Marshall recognised but he assumed it belonged to the technician usually on duty.

“Doctor McKay realised the Prometheus was in range of the old Alpha site,” Marshall said, “we have a forward party ready to ‘gate to Atlantis with your approval.”

“Colonel, this is Major Lorne,” the Major responded, “I’m temporarily in charge of the city.  I’d like the numbers and names of your party, please, sir.”

“Oh, for…Lorne, it’s me!” McKay spluttered.  “Just lower the damn shield!”

“Sorry, McKay,” Lorne replied cheerfully, “but you wrote the protocols so…”

McKay’s ‘damn it’ was under his breath but still audible.

Marshall reeled off the required information.  “Skies are clear,” he added, providing the code that confirmed they were not under duress.

“All confirmed,” Lorne said.  “Shield is down and Atlantis is happy to receive you.”

“On our way,” Marshall indicated for the scientists to head through and waved his military personnel ahead of him, although Bates lingered just in front of the wormhole.  Marshall tapped his earpiece.  “Prometheus, all personnel but myself and Bates are through and we’re going now.  Thanks for the ride and see you in a few days.”

“Copy that, Colonel,” Pendergast replied.

Pilot flew through the wormhole and Marshall followed.

The buzz of Atlantis was incredible.  A warm welcoming touch flittered through his mind and he carefully sent a mental thank you out into the ether. 

“Wow!”

Porter’s exclamation brought his attention to the gate room – Operations, he reminded himself. He found himself the centre of everybody’s attention; all Atlantis personnel in the room stood at attention.

“At ease,” Marshall ordered briskly.  He identified Lorne who began to skip down the steps towards them.  “Major.”

“Colonel,” Lorne greeted him brightly.  “Do you wish for transfer of the city’s command now, sir, or would you prefer to wait until Colonel Sheppard is back on base?”

“I’ll wait,” Marshall said.  “I know our arrival was unexpected.  Have we had any news from the mission?”

“Colonel Sheppard confirmed to the Daedalus that they had arrived and were on mission approximately ten minutes ago,” Lorne said.  “If you leave your pack, sir, I’ll get someone to take it to your quarters.”  He was already leading the way back up the steps. 

McKay was already at a terminal, tapping away.  “Huh, Zelenka’s not an entire waste of space, he sent a secure transfer of scans so far before they engaged radio silence.  They found another jumper.”

“Another jumper?” Marshall dropped his pack and crossed to stand behind McKay.  Pilot was circling the space aloft; he gave a cry.

“Maybe someone tried a suicide run like the one Major Sheppard did when the Hive ship attacked,” the technician offered. 

Marshall shuddered inwardly; he hated to think of John’s desperation only a month or so before and was just thankful that the Daedalus had turned up in time to save his soulmate.

“I’ve informed the Daedalus of your arrival,” Lorne said.

Another technician arrived bearing new earpieces and Marshall swapped his out.

“I’d like…” Marshall began.

The blow hit him from nowhere.

Pain ripped through him and sent him to his knees. 

He clutched at his shoulder, gasping for breath.

Pilot cried out, flying across the gate room towards him.

“Colonel!” Bates was beside him instantly.

“I’m hit,” Marshall managed to say, gritting his teeth against the pain radiating from his shoulder. 

Porter pushed Bates out of the way and began to undo his clothing, she pulled his vest and jacket apart, shoved his t-shirt to the side and…

A blue star-shaped wound rippled under his skin.

“It’s a psionic wound,” Porter said.  “The injury was to his soul animal not to the Colonel.”  She looked at Marshall regretfully.  “We can’t give you anything for it, sir.  The wound will heal as your soul animal heals.”

Marshall nodded and made to move.  Porter got to her feet and stepped back giving him space to lever himself to his.

“If my soul animal was injured…”

“Something happened on the mission,” McKay snapped.  He tapped his earpiece.  “Daedalus, Colonel Sumner just experienced a psionic wound; we believe the away mission is in trouble.  We need to beam back-up to their location!”

“Doctor McKay,” Caldwell replied calmly, “if you’ve read the mission briefing you’ll know what we cannot beam directly into the Wraith ship because of the silt over it reducing the effectiveness of the lock.”

McKay and Porter exchanged a quick look.  McKay turned back to the terminal in front of him, typing rapidly.  Porter was elbow to elbow with him, her eyes pinned to the monitor.

“Accessing the data now,” McKay said.  He frowned as his eyes scanned over it.

Marshall began to straighten his clothing, fastening up his jacket and vest.

“Sir,” Ford said quietly, “shouldn’t we get you to the infirmary?”

“There’s nothing they can do for me,” Marshall snapped out.  His shoulder burned and ached, but worse was the worry over what was happening to John.  He couldn’t bear the thought that John…

John was fine, Marshall determined, his eyes flitting to Pilot who circled the gate room, wings spread wide.  John was a survivor.  But that didn’t mean Marshall wasn’t going to help his soulmate if McKay found a way…

“Look!” Porter said suddenly, poking McKay.

McKay frowned at the monitor.  “Daedalus, are you reading this?  The interference has disappeared!”

“We can confirm,” Caldwell said, a note of bemusement carrying through the radio.  “The interference is gone.  We can beam into the ship.”

“Then let’s go!” Marshall declared.  “Daedalus, I have a military team ready to beam with me from my position.”  He stepped back and Teldy, Bates and Ford flanked him.

“Wait!” McKay declared.  “I’m coming with you!”

Marshall didn’t argue with him.  It was time to go.  It was time to find his soulmate.  Above him, Pilot cried his agreement as the beam took them away.

o-O-o

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The sound filtered through the darkness and pulled John inextricably towards consciousness.  He kept his breath even and his eyes shut.

The cold presence of an alien mind was gone from his.  He was alone in his head which ached like it had when he’d gone down in the helicopter and fractured his skull.  He listened intently for clues and catalogued everything he could about what he could feel.

He was lying on the ground. 

It was damp.

Water, or some other liquid was dripping close by.

He was still dressed but the weight of his gun was missing from his thigh holster and his vest – well, his vest was gone.  He felt the spare gun he carried still strapped to his ankle.

His jacket was undone.

He repressed the shiver that travelled through him at the thought of the Wraith Queen undressing him.  He felt achy but his chest didn’t hurt and his t-shirt was still tucked into his pants.  He didn’t think he’d been fed upon.

There were rough ties at his wrists binding them together, another at his ankles.

God, his head hurt.

“You should know that you cannot fool me, Atlantean,” the hissing sibilant tone of the Wraith Queen echoed in the chamber.  “I know you are awake.”

John heaved himself into a sitting position and cautiously opened his eyes. 

The chamber was large, a thronelike chair at the back where the Queen sat.  She looked majestic.  Thin, very thin to the point where John’s late Great Aunt Mabel would have called her gaunt.  Her leather dress hung from her in the gothic style the Wraith favoured, corseted around her torso and strips flowing over her hips and to the floor.

“I warned you when you escaped me before what would happen if I caught you again, Atlantean,” the Queen sneered.

John tried to make sense of that.  “Well,” he said, playing for time, casting his gaze around the chamber to note the exits and anything which could help him, “here I am anyway.” 

His breath caught as his gaze landed on Teyla.  She was hung up on threads of Wraith webbing at the far side of the chamber.  She was still unconscious.

“What have you done with her?” John demanded.

The Queen arched her thin almost invisible eyebrows.  “Wraith but not Wraith; she will be of use to me as she was in killing your men, killing your soul companion,” she said, “it was easy to control her, her mind was so open to me.” Her angry gaze narrowed on John’s.  “Unlike yours, Atlantean.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” John jibed.

“Atlantis protects your mind now as it did then,” the Queen said. 

John fought through the pain in his head to think.  She believed he had met her before…

What if, John mused.  What if the Wraith ship hadn’t crashed in battle with the Atlanteans as they had thought?  What if the Wraith had come for Atlantis decades after, testing the truth of whether it was abandoned?  Maybe they had intended to take it for themselves…

And Atlantis had woke the cryogenically frozen John Sheppard to stop them. 

It explained the jumper in the dart bay, although John wondered why his counterpart hadn’t used the city’s defences and had the drones tear the ship apart in space.  He assumed that Past Sheppard had managed to sabotage the Wraith ship from within and that explained why the Wraith ship had crashed.  It sounded as though he’d been captured but escaped…

The Queen rose from her seat.  “I will find the rest of the humans you brought here and I will feed.  I will make you give up your secrets and you will help me escape.”

“I don’t think so,” John said, trying hard not to scuttle back in fear as she approached.

She stank of rot and mildew.  He froze as her mind gripped his again; pain overwhelming him as he fought off her mental touch…

Her hand lashed out, tearing his t-shirt into two and…

Agony.

Fire erupted in his chest drowning out the pain in his head and everything in his body tensed and ached…

He’d watched another Queen feed on Everett for seconds before he’d put a bullet in her head.  The tortured screams echoed through his head and he belatedly realised that they weren’t memories – it was him…it was John screaming as the Queen fed on him…

She lifted her hand away and licked the blood from her palm.

John panted for breath.  He could feel his skin crawling, his muscles weakened.  He wondered how much of his life she’d taken, how much he’d aged…

Marshall.

God.

He was going to die without ever meeting his soulmate. 

John closed his eyes against the smirking visage of the Queen.

“Tell me what I want to know,” the Queen said, gripping his chin and forcing his head to tilt painfully backwards.

He opened his eyes to meet her cold gaze.  “You haven’t actually asked any questions.”

She leaned in and he tried to lean back to get away from the stench of her breath.  “You exist here and then; how?”

John kept his eyes on hers.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She snarled and her hand slapped again on his chest.

He was prepared for the sheer agony of the feed; the lightening pain running through his veins as she drew his lifeforce from him.  He didn’t stop himself screaming, focused instead on just breathing. 

She drew back and licked her lips.  “You taste good, Atlantean.”

“Good to know,” John coughed, trying to regain his breath.  “Personally, I always thought I’d be slightly on the bitter side.”

“Tell me how you exist now and then!” The Queen demanded.

John met her furious gaze defiantly.  “I don’t know.”

Her hand went back, her face contorted into a snarl and…

A sharp cry sounded through the chamber, echoing around it…

A bird – a bird! – divebombed the Queen…

And…

Gunfire.

The familiar sharp retort of gunfire.

John dropped back to the floor and curled up on himself, making himself the smallest target possible, lurching out of the grasp of the Queen…

Rescue.

He was getting rescued.

He reached for his hidden gun at his ankle…

o-O-o

Bullets impacted the Wraith standing over John and brought a feral satisfaction to Marshall as he aimed again.

Bates dropped to a knee and fired beside him.

Teldy was just a second behind him.

McKay lurked by the door, handgun in hand, eyes wide with fear, but there to help John.

John writhed on the floor, his hair shot through with silver in a way that made Marshall’s heart pound with fear that they were too late…Everett’s fate flitting through his mind…

The Wraith seemed to shake their bullets off as she turned from John to start stalking across the chamber to them.

Marshall firmed his jaw and continued firing…he didn’t step back from the ugly grey creature advancing on them…

“Jesus Christ,” Teldy muttered, reloading with crisp efficiency.

Another shot rang out, a single fire in the maelstrom of their rapid automatic weaponry…

The Queen flinched as the bullet hit, eyes widening and…she pitched forward.

They stopped firing as she dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

The back of her head was a bloodied mess.

Beyond her body, John lay on the floor, gun in his hand…

“Check she’s dead!” Marshall ordered and ran for John.  He was vaguely aware of McKay running behind him.

They reached John, struggling to sit up, as Pilot landed on John’s shoulder only to disappear like mist.

Marshall’s heart sank as he knelt to support his soulmate, laying down his gun to place his arm around him, to hold him somehow.

John’s face was lined with age; his dark hair almost fully silver.  Age spots dotted the backs of his hands which he raised shaking to look at with his mismatched eyes.  His gaze sought Marshall’s – apologetic and despairing and…

“Sorry,” John whispered.

Marshall shook his head.  He brushed a hand over John’s face, cupped his cheek in the palm of one hand.  “You have nothing to apologise for,” he pressed his forehead to John’s briefly. 

“Thanks for saving me,” John said.

“Always,” Marshall whispered, “but you did a good job saving yourself.”  He took a deep breath and reached for his knife to free John’s bonds.

“How did you get here?” asked John, frowning.

“Uh, beaming,” McKay raised his hand.  He hovered nervously just behind Marshall.  “Apparently it works now?”

“Hey, Rodney,” John greeted him with a ghost of a smirk before it disappeared under a grimace of pain.

John’s condition worried Marshall; his soulmate was pale, sweating and bloody.  “We should get you back.”

John nodded, pain etched across his face as he rubbed his injured wrists.  “Has anyone checked on Teyla?”

Marshall looked up.  Across the chamber, Teldy and Ford were helping the Athosian woman out of the webbing.  She looked dazed.

“I think she’s fine…” McKay said worry coating his voice despite his words.

“The Queen took control of her, made her shoot Bishop and Santori,” John said quietly.  “She made her shoot…” his eyes flickered to Marshall, “Snow, your wolf.”

Marshall grimaced and touched his shoulder.  “Got that.”  He and McKay managed to get John on his feet, but he could barely hold his weight.

Movement by the entrance had Marshall grabbing for the gun he’d put down.

Another John Sheppard stood there, surrounded by three Marines.  He was dressed in what appeared to be an old variant of the Atlantis uniform, grey jacket and old vest over the top.  He raised his hands away immediately. 

He looked young, vibrant – the way Marshall had imagined he’d see his own John.  His dark hair was a mess on his head, chameleon eyes looked over the scene with calm competence before they landed on Marshall’s John.

“Sir,” the young female Lieutenant began hurriedly, “this is…”

“Major John Sheppard,” John said, eyes on his past counterpart.  “Where’d you find him, Cadman?”

“He was in a cryogenic pod in the main power room, sir,” Cadman explained.  “It opened up as soon as we got in the room.  He said you were in trouble and that there was a Wraith Queen.”  Her eyes darted to the felled alien.  “I see you already took care of that, sir.”

“Why aren’t you old?” McKay cut in brusquely, directing his question to the past version of his best friend.  “Past me was old, why aren’t you old?”

“The cryogenic pod only works fully for those with the ATA gene,” the Major replied.  “It’s good to see you again, Rodney.”  He kept his gaze on the scientist.  “You found the other pods?”

“We did,” John replied.  “Weir was already gone, power failure in the pod; Rodney…your McKay died last month after we finally revived him.”

“Weir’s pod had a power failure?” Sheppard frowned. “Her body must have given out; the power would only have cut out if the life sign signal stopped.”

McKay pointed a finger at him accusingly.  “How did you get your pod here?!”

“I transported it into the jumper,” Sheppard said.

“Wait, there’s transporter technology on the jumpers?” McKay asked urgently.

Sheppard nodded.  “Same as the transporter units on the city?”

McKay opened his mouth…

“As fascinating as this is,” John said, “I think I might be about to pass out.”

Marshall immediately moved to get a better grip of his soulmate as John followed through, his head lolling forward and his body becoming heavy in his hold.  He and Bates lowered John to the ground carefully.

Marshall just wanted to get the hell off the ship with John.  “Questions can wait, we need to leave.”

“I can help,” Sheppard called out.  “Please.”

Marshall stared at him, uncertain.

“I have…” Sheppard grimaced.  “I’m close to Ascension; I have gifts.”

“You have gifts?!” McKay repeated, appalled.  “How?”

“I don’t know, Rodney,” Sheppard said, “I just woke up with them!”

“How can you help?” asked Teyla softly.

Sheppard smiled awkwardly at her.  “I can heal him.”

Marshall frowned.  He’d heard of O’Neill healing Bra’tac when he’d taken on the Ancient download… “If you can help him, help him!”  He ordered.

Sheppard lowered his hands and hurried over.  He knelt by John’s other side as Bates moved back. 

Marshall was pleased that Bates was still covering Sheppard subtly with his weapon.

Sheppard placed his hands over John’s torn shirt, close to the bleeding wound on his chest.  A yellow glow began to hum between them.

Marshall held John’s hand and watched amazed as Sheppard healed him.  Slowly, the lines on his face disappeared; the age spots on the hand he held were erased, the skin plumping up with renewed life; his hair colour darkened once again.

“Stop!” McKay said urgently.  “You’re killing yourself!”

Marshall jerked his head up and realised with horror that John’s injuries were transferring to the Major.  “Sheppard…”

Sheppard shook his head.  “This is his time, not mine.”  He reached over as though to pat Marshall’s shoulder and…

His shoulder warmed up where the psionic wound ached fiercely.  Marshall flinched away as Sheppard’s hand drew back, the glow still shining around his hands.

John’s eyes flew open as he sucked in a breath, drawing Marshall’s attention back to his soulmate.

“Are you OK?” asked Marshall briskly, trying to keep his worry out of his voice. 

John gingerly touched his healed chest, ghosting over the puckered scar.  “I think so.”  He stared at his counterpart.  “Thank you.”

Sheppard nodded briskly, but weariness lined his aged face.  “Get your people home,” he gestured at the ship with his glowing hand, “I tried to destroy this ship when it attacked us and failed when I got captured.  It’s time I took care of this once and for all.”

“Come with us,” John said.

Sheppard shook his head.  “I need to be here for this to work.”  He looked at John solemnly.  “Take care of our city, John.” He glanced up and around at them all.  “Take care of our people.”  He stood up.  “You all need to leave.  Now.”

“We can beam out,” McKay said hurriedly, “we just all need to be in the same place.”

Marshall helped John to his feet. 

John made grabby hands at McKay’s radio and he handed it over.  “Radek, do you copy?”

“Copy, Colonel.”

“Prepare for departure,” John ordered.  “We’re leaving as soon as we’re all back in the dart bay.”

Marshall handed John his own handgun and accepted his rifle from Ford who had picked it up to help.  They all began to move out and Marshall gave Sheppard a final nod of acknowledgement for his sacrifice – for healing John.

They hurried into a measured jog, navigating the twisting corridors to the dart bay.  They slowed to take in the horror of the skeletons of the two Marines who had been killed; they’d been fed on until their bones had crumbled.  John simply reached and retrieved their dog tags.

Marshall kept pace with his soulmate, concerned about John’s trauma and his miraculous recovery, whether the healing would hold.  He was aware that Teldy was helping Teyla; Ford and Bates taking the rear; Cadman and her team were ahead.

He followed as John dashed across the bay and the two jumpers suddenly shimmied into view as John mentally brought the cloak down on them both.

“Rodney!” A short man wearing the Atlantis uniform looked at them open-mouthed as they approached.  “What…”

“Beaming!” McKay gasped out, bending over panting as they came to a halt beside the jumpers.  “We can beam now, we just need to all group round and stay close to the jumpers.”

Marshall stayed within touching distance of his soulmate.  “Daedalus,” he tapped his earpiece.  “We have a party of twelve to beam back, and two jumpers.”

“Uh, Colonel,” Porter’s voice cut in, “I’m reading a single life sign in another part of the ship…”

“He’s staying,” John replied briskly.  “Beam us back.”

The transport beam took them in a flash of white light.

When his vision cleared, Marshall barely registered the bridge of the Daedalus before John staggered beside him.  Marshall steadied him with an arm around his waist as someone at the back of the bridge confirmed a successful transport with the jumpers ending up in the cargo bay.

“Easy,” Marshall said, “we should get you to the infirmary and…”

John shook his head.  He reached for his earpiece.  “Atlantis, raise the shield now!”

“Copy that, Colonel,” Lorne acknowledged.  “Uh, she’s raising the shield.”

“What…” began Caldwell.

A bloom of white erupted on the planet below them from the middle of the ocean and had them all turning to watch.

McKay made for a terminal.  Marshall ignored him.  He focused on keeping John steady.

“It’s gone,” McKay said, “the Wraith ship; it’s completely gone.”

Major Sheppard had sacrificed his life for them, Marshall realised, for John – and Marshall was always going to be grateful to the past Sheppard. 

John sagged against Marshall, trembling but trying to stay composed despite everything.  Marshall held John more tightly to him.  John wasn’t alone anymore; they were together and that was all that that mattered. 

o-O-o

He’d had plans, John mused tiredly as he gave up on trying to towel his hair dry.  He’d had plans for meeting Marshall.

Plans which had not included greeting his arriving soulmate half-dead from a Wraith feeding on a Wraith ship and being restored to life by a past version of himself.

Plans which had not included a rushed beaming to the Daedalus followed by excruciating hours confined to the infirmary being subjected to more tests than he’d anticipated but should have expected.  At least Alicia had finally allowed him to shower off the touch of the Wraith from his skin.  He stared at his reflection in the small mirror that graced the infirmary bathroom. 

He looked exactly as he had when he’d showered that morning, except for the feeding scar on his chest.  It was healed up; a silver puckered scar where she’d sucked the life from him.  He gently brushed past his dog tags and touched it tentatively with his fingertips.  He shivered.

He shook off the lingering sense of horror and shame.  He focused instead on getting dressed, silently thanking whoever had brought him a fresh uniform.  It boded well for his chances of getting out of the infirmary because he was certain if Alicia had meant to keep him, the clothes would have been a set of standard issue infirmary pyjamas.

He walked out of the bathroom, barefooted but in pants and t-shirt.  He finished pulling on his uniform, grateful to be fully covered up.  Someone had left his gun and knife on the bed; he checked the gun and holstered it before sliding the knife into its sheath.

A whine had John spinning around to stare at the corner of the room with shock.

Snow sat there with an expectant look on his face.

John crossed the room in two strides and threw his arms around the wolf.  He received a wolfy huff and lick, the wolf pressing close as John hugged him tightly.  “Thought I’d lost you there for a moment.”

Snow yipped at him.

John smiled slowly.  Marshall’s soul animal was back and Marshall was waiting for him.  Maybe their plans hadn’t been completely screwed up.

The door to the room whispered open and Alicia entered briskly, clipboard in front of her.  She raised her head and took in John hugging the wolf with an amused smirk.

John looked back at her with a raised eyebrow and got to his feet.  “Am I good to go?”

“Your tests all came back normal,” Alicia announced, “well, for you.”

John gave a short laugh.

She regarded him with piercing eyes.  “You’re off duty and scheduled to see Kate tomorrow, no arguments.”

John grimaced.  “I hate psych evals.”

“Well, until you’ve passed one, Lorne stays in charge,” Alicia said bluntly.  “You went through a traumatic experience and while your past self managed to make it all physically go away, mentally you have a lot to process.”

“I get it,” John rubbed the back of his neck.

“I also want daily tests on your baseline for a week,” Alicia informed him far too cheerfully. 

“Is that really necessary?” grumbled John.

“I don’t know,” Alicia said dryly, “do you think monitoring your health in case the physical reversal of the Wraith feeding isn’t permanent would be prudent or would you prefer just to die of cell degradation unexpectedly?”

John rolled his eyes.  “Fine.” 

“Now, I’d normally want to keep you overnight for observation too, but…” her eyes flickered to Snow, “I’m going to assume that you’ll have someone with you who can do that.”

John felt the blush heat up his cheeks until he was sure he was going to set himself on fire.

Alicia smirked at him.  She handed him a folded piece of paper.  “Here, I discharged the Colonel an hour or so ago.”

John took the paper and opened it cautiously. 

“Maybe we can still do some of what we planned?  Come find me. Marshall.”

He carefully folded the paper and tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket.   Alicia was still smirking at him.

“McKay’s waiting for you outside by the way,” Alicia said brightly. 

Of course he was.

“Thanks, Doc,” John said dryly.

Alicia grinned at him.  “You’re welcome.”

John glanced back at Snow and motioned towards the door which was already sliding open at John’s gentle mental nudging.

Snow bounded out and John followed.  They both stopped at the sight of Rodney pacing in the corridor outside.

Snow shot him a look which clearly said ‘he’s your friend.’

John cleared his throat, capturing Rodney’s attention.

Rodney whirled around and charged him with all the finesse of a bull.  John braced himself and accepted the too-tight hug.  It only lasted a few moments and John patted Rodney on the back a few times.

Alicia passed by them with another sly smirk.  John repressed the urge to stick his tongue out at her.

“Hey,” John said.

Rodney let go of him and stepped back to thrust a finger in his face.  “You almost died!  I wasn’t here and you almost died!  You can’t do that!”

“I missed you too, Rodney,” John said fondly.

Rodney huffed.  “Have you seen Teyla yet?”

John grimaced and shook his head.  He glanced longingly at Snow, but he followed Rodney along the corridor to another infirmary room; one of the ones that the staff liked to use for overnight observation.

Rodney halted in the doorway and John stopped beside him, taking in the sight of Teyla curled up in a small ball under the thin covers on the bed, her eyes tightly closed.  Kanaan sat in a chair beside her, his hand covering her fists.

John nudged Rodney and they both stepped inside tentatively.

“Is she asleep?” asked Rodney in a loud whisper.

Teyla’s eyes snapped open.  “No,” she said, “she is not.”

John walked up to stand beside the bed as Teyla manoeuvred into a sitting position, one of her hands remained tightly held by Kanaan.

“John,” Teyla began hesitantly, “I am so sorry that…”

“Not your fault,” John said quickly. 

“I killed…”

“No, the Wraith killed our people,” John held her gaze. 

“I don’t say this often,” Rodney offered, “but on this rare occasion, John is right.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Teyla,” John repeated.   

“Perhaps now you have heard it from John, you will believe it,” Kanaan said softly, kissing the hand he held and drawing Teyla’s attention. 

Teyla smiled tentatively at Kanaan.  “I still feel guilty.”  She turned back to John.  “I tried to fight her, but she was so strong.”

“It felt like she gave me a skull fracture,” John agreed.  “I only managed to hold her off because of my connection with Atlantis so…”

Teyla sighed, her fingers tangling even tighter with Kanaan’s.  “This gift we have to sense the Wraith…” she shook her head.  “It feels more like a curse.” 

“Saved my life,” John pointed out.

“And mine,” Rodney raised his hand.

Kanaan squeezed her hand.  “And mine.”

“Maybe we can find some way to stop them taking you over mentally though,” Rodney said hurriedly, “because that has to suck.”

Teyla brightened.  “You think you will be able to stop it from happening?”

“Maybe,” Rodney said, “Magneto managed to stop Professor X from reading his mind so…”

“Rodney, that’s a comic book!” protested John.

“A great comic book,” Rodney shot back, “and it’s a pretty decent movie!”

Snow suddenly yipped and snagged the bottom of John’s jacket with his teeth.  He started to pull John towards the door.

“Woah,” John muttered.  He stroked a hand over Snow’s head.  “Easy, I’m coming.”  He gestured at Snow and looked apologetically at Teyla.  “I, uh…”

“Have somewhere else to be,” Teyla stated.  She smiled softly.  “Someone else to be with.”  She looked at the wolf.  “I am pleased I did not harm Snow permanently.”

John lifted an eyebrow and shot her a pointed look.

Teyla sighed and rolled her eyes.  “Fine, that the Wraith did not harm Snow permanently.”

Snow tugged on his jacket again.

“I have to go,” John said.  “Rest up.”

Teyla nodded.

Kanaan smiled gratefully at John and Rodney as they made their way out of the infirmary. 

Snow headed down the corridor and John followed after the wolf, trusting Snow to get him to Marshall.

Rodney fell into step beside him.  “How are you doing with the whole…” he made a vague gesture, “past you thing?”

“Better than you,” John teased.

“I was fine with it!” Rodney said heatedly.  “I was…”

John shot him a knowing look.

“I was not fine with it,” Rodney admitted chagrined.  “I mean, why did he have to die?”

“Do you really want an alternate version of yourself running around?” asked John.

Rodney hummed and snapped his fingers.  “Good point.”  He frowned.  “At least you, uh, he explained what had happened to Weir’s pod.”

“It didn’t occur to any of us that the death came before the pod failure,” John admitted sheepishly.

“Well, I’m not surprised you didn’t realise, I mean, medical stuff isn’t exactly your wheelhouse,” Rodney pointed out bluntly.  He snapped his fingers again.  “Oh, oh!  I think I just figured out why she came out of the pod early!”

“Why?” asked John, genuinely curious.

“Past me said he and his John stayed out of the pods on the first rotation to try and fix the database, right?” Rodney said.  “So, she went back into the pod earlier than them so…”

“So she woke up earlier than McKay,” John sighed.  It was a good simple theory and likely to be correct. 

“Do you think you, he, uh…” Rodney pointed up at the ceiling.

“Ascended?” guessed John.  He shook his head.  He figured the other him had used his pre-Ascended powers to make some kind of last stand. 

Rodney peered at him.  “How close are you to Ascension now?”

John shrugged.  “I don’t have any powers, Rodney.”

They came to a halt at the intersection which would take John in the direction of the living quarters.

Rodney glanced towards where Snow was waiting on John and turned back to capture John’s gaze fiercely.  “I already gave him the shovel talk so…”

John blushed.  “Rodney!”

“What?” Rodney gestured at him.  “You’re my friend!  I just wanted to make sure if he hurt you, he knew your team would kill him and leave no evidence!”

It was kind of touching.

John smiled with warm exasperation at his best friend.  “It’s good to have you back,” he said, “I might have missed you.”

“Well, of course, you missed me, who wouldn’t miss me?” Rodney retorted, but his blue eyes were shining with humour.   He pushed John gently in the direction of Snow.  “Go.  He’s waiting for you and he’s…” his smile was crooked but sincere, “he’s a good man, John.”

“Thanks, Rodney,” John slapped Rodney’s arm softly and stepped away to follow Snow, leaving Rodney at the intersection.

Snow’s wolfy bark sounded a lot like ‘finally!’ to John as the wolf bounded away up the corridor.  John broke into a light jog to keep up and realised as the wolf turned left that he was being led in the direction of his own quarters.

His stomach roiled with nerves as he got closer to his door.  He paused at the top of the corridor, Snow already waiting in front of his quarters.

His soulmate was waiting for him.

John took a deep breath.  “You can do this, John.”  He shook himself lightly, adjusting his uniform until it was straight as it could be.  He walked up to the room and the door slid open at his mental command.  He breathed in again and stepped inside.

Snow immediately bounded over to the open balcony door where Marshall stood, John’s own soul animal was perched on the balcony railing behind him. 

Marshall looked back at John with what seemed like infinite patience.  He looked every inch the badass Marine Colonel he was despite the fresh casual clothing he wore of jeans and a simple button-down shirt.   

John shuddered a little as his eyes met Marshall’s.

Fond affection hit him first, Marshall’s blatant caring and something that might be the beginning of love for John.  But there was heat underneath.  Fierce protectiveness; possessiveness.  Passion.  Attraction.

It was a lot and John took another deep breath, trying to keep his composure.

“John,” Marshall took a step toward him.  “You’re OK?”

John nodded.  “Physically back to normal.” His hand crept up to his chest and he lowered it sharply.

“May I hold you?” asked Marshall quietly.

John lurched forward two steps in reply and the next thing he knew he was surrounded by Marshall; pressed into Marshall’s frame, two strong arms holding him tightly to Marshall, the older man’s face buried into his neck.

John melted into the embrace, holding Marshall back just as tightly.

There was a familiar comfort seeping through him; the same comfort that had radiated from his cuddles with Snow.

“I almost lost you,” Marshall murmured.

John hummed, remembering the way the Queen had advanced on his soulmate in the chamber despite the flying bullets and…he shuddered.  “We almost lost each other.”

Marshall eased back enough so they could look at each other, their holds easing just enough to allow for the small movement.  One of Marshall’s hand was at the back of John’s neck, a steadying grip that made it real; his other hand was at the small of his back, tight against his spine.  John’s own hands had landed on Marshall’s waist, fingers tangling into his shirt.

“We should talk,” Marshall began.

“Probably,” John agreed, a little giddy.

Marshall smiled and leaned in.  John met him half-way.  Marshall kissed him like he’d known him forever.  John felt wanted, loved, claimed from a single kiss. 

John pressed closer, stole another kiss and another…

Marshall broke away with a gasp, shifting to hold John loosely, both arms locked behind his back.  He pressed his forehead against John’s.  “Talking.”

“I really suck at that,” John admitted, sliding his own hands down to rest against Marshall’s hips.

Marshall kissed him softly.  “Do you want this?”

“I want this,” John confirmed.  He took another breath, took his courage in his hands, and made a metaphorical leap.  “I want you.”

Marshall’s eyes lit up with happiness and John couldn’t help but kiss him again.  They were both smiling when they parted, hugging each other closer. 

“Do you want to spend time getting to know each other before we bond?” asked Marshall, a hand cupping John’s cheek. 

“Only if you do,” John said, appreciating Marshall’s care in ensuring John’s choice was considered.

“I don’t want to wait,” Marshall replied.

The simple answer took John’s breath away.

Snow padded over to sit beside Marshall; Pilot flew in and landed on John’s shoulder.  There was a question in Marshall’s eyes and John gave a quick sharp nod.

“I would greet thee, John Sheppard,” Marshall began reciting the formal words.

John felt his heart begin to beat rapidly in his chest.  It was really happening. 

“…for I have spent days with the guide to your soul,” Marshall continued, “and I wish to bond myself to thee.”

John cleared his throat, keeping his gaze locked to Marshall’s.  “I would greet thee, Marshall Sumner, for the guide of your soul led me to you, and I wish to bond myself to thee in return.”

A rush of warmth swept through them, the bond settling between them.

Snow howled as Pilot gave a triumphant cry and the soul animals disappeared from the corporeal plane.

Need and want rolled up through John like an inferno, his, Marshall’s…and they were kissing again.

John drowned in the intimacy of it; the careful way Marshall undressed him, Marshall’s firm touch as he learned John’s skin and his scars, his curves and edges. 

He returned the favour, sliding hands and lips over Marshall as though he could touch memorise the strength of the wiry muscles of Marshall’s body, the taste of his skin. 

He loved the way Marshall leaned into him, the trust the older man gave him as they took care of each other, got lost in each other as they loved each other. 

They lay tangled together afterwards.  John couldn’t quite bring himself to let go of Marshall and he was pleased that Marshall didn’t seem to want to let go of him either.  They lay side by side, swapping lazy kisses and touches.

Marshall smoothed a hand over John’s cheek and snugged in closer to him, his eyes running over John’s face as though he was committing him to memory.  “I can’t believe I got this lucky.”

John’s lips lifted into an unbidden smile.  “Lucky, huh?”

“I really thought the universe was laughing me at when I woke up and saw Pilot,” Marshall admitted.  “I’m a widower with three kids.  I didn’t think a soulmate was in the stars for me.”

“Me either,” John said roughly.  A soulmate had been nothing but a distant dream he hadn’t even known he’d wanted before he’d laid eyes on Snow.

“I’m glad it’s you,” Marshall said. 

John hid his face, pressing it into Marshall’s shoulder. 

“Does this feel real yet?” teased Marshall gently, his hand sliding down John’s body.

John shifted, raising his head to nip at Marshall’s lips with a playful kiss.  “Why don’t you convince me some more?”

Marshall’s blue eyes warmed like a sky with summer sun.  He tugged John closer and John went willingly.   

Epilogue

“…and then Ronon, uh…” Cadman stumbled into silence and her eyes flitted to the large Satedan, leaning against the wall like a large predatory cat. 

“And then Specialist Dex?” prompted Woolsey.

“I shot him,” Ronon stated bluntly.  “Can we go now?”

Marshall repressed the sigh he wanted to make.  He liked Ronon Dex.  The man was an incredible fighter and a good strategist.  And God knew the Satedan deserved the chance they’d given him when they’d rescued him from a life as a Wraith Runner when he’d turned out to be Amelia Bank’s soulmate, but the man’s inability to debrief was an issue. 

Nyan cleared his throat.  “To be fair, if Specialist Dex hadn’t shot the Chief we’d all have died a very messy death?”

Marshall counted to ten in his head.  He glanced over at Woolsey.  “Any other questions, Richard?”

Woolsey shook his head.  There was a glimmer of amusement in his gaze.  “I believe there is little benefit in continuing…”

Ronon was out of the door before Woolsey had finished.

Lorne got to his feet.  “With your permission, Colonel?”

Marshall nodded and Lorne took off after his team-mate.  He waved a hand around the rest of the room.  “Dismissed, people.  Go and get some rest.”  He waited until the rest of Lorne’s first contact team filed out before he turned to Woolsey.  “I think I’m going to take Dex to the next review on Earth.  He’ll just shoot Senator Johnson and we won’t have to deal with him.”

Woolsey chuckled.  “O’Neill will give him a medal.”  He closed his tablet.  “I think given the events of this mission, P4C874 should probably go on our banned list.”

“Agreed,” Marshall said.  He glanced at his watch.  “Ready for the dial in to Earth?”

“Ready,” Woolsey said.

They left the conference room and walked out into Ops. 

Marshall gave Chuck a nod and the ‘gate began to dial.  He waited impatiently as the wormhole engaged and the IDC sent.

“Stargate Command, this is Atlantis,” Marshall said.  “We’re sending you the usual report package now.”

The monitor flickered into life. 

Hank Landry stood in his usual Air Force uniform, his brown brush of hair sticking up.  “Greetings, Atlantis.  Our package is on its way to you.”  He nodded to someone off screen before turning back to grin at Marshall.  “Based on the last reports, it looks like the new planet is working out for you.”

“It’s a good fit,” Marshall agreed. 

“Has Colonel Sheppard recovered from his latest injuries?” asked Landry briskly.

“Doctor Biro has him on medical leave right now,” Marshall said, keeping his tone ruthlessly professional. 

Landry disliked soulmates being assigned so closely together and hadn’t made a secret of it, although weirdly most of his ire had been directed at John.  It had actually been Richard who’d filed a complaint six months in about Landry’s behaviour.  Both Marshall and John reported directly to O’Neill as a result.

Marshall felt Pilot land on his shoulder.  It was a reminder that John was well; that he’d survived the abduction by the Genii and the torture Kolya’s son had managed to inflict before Marshall and Snow had turned up with a lot of Marines and some incredibly pissed off scientists ready to do damage to rescue him.  John had jokingly pointed out that at least they hadn’t inflicted a Wraith feeding on him.    

Richard coughed.  “Is there any change on the ETA of the Daedalus?”

“The Daedalus should reach you in five days,” Landry confirmed.  “Is everything prepared for Doctor Jackson and SG1’s visit?”

“Everything is in place,” Richard confirmed.  “We’re looking forward to hosting them.”

“As long as you know I’m expecting back in one piece,” Landry said.  “We need them back here.  We just lost the Gamma site to a Lucien Alliance attack.”

“Any survivors?” asked Richard tensely.

“SG3 managed to get the IOA reviewers to safety,” Landry said brusquely.

Marshall shifted, drawing Landry’s gaze.  “We very much appreciate Doctor Jackson coming out to support the database indexing reboot project.”

They truly were.  McKay and Kusanagi had made great progress thanks to the work Past McKay had done, but they needed someone with good Ancient language ability to complete the work and Jackson was the foremost expert.

Luckily, O’Neill had agreed (after lamenting Baby Janet was losing her favourite Uncles) since Teal’c had agreed to accompany Jackson, and the new SG1 commanded by Cameron Mitchell had been formally assigned as a protection detail.  It felt weird for SG1 not to be O’Neill, Carter, Jackson and Teal’c, but Mitchell had gathered together a surprising eclectic group; a former Goa’uld host called Vala, Carter’s protégé Captain Hailey, and Teal’c’s son, Rya’c.

Landry looked as though he was going to say something but fortunately Chuck interrupted.

“Package received, sir,” Chuck said mildly.

Landry glanced off camera again and nodded.  “We’re clear here.”  He turned back to the camera.  “See you in seven days, Atlantis.  Stargate Command, out.”

The feed dropped as the wormhole shut down.

Marshall released a long slow breath.  Despite O’Neill’s original assurance Marshall figured Landry wasn’t adapting all that well.  He figured O’Neill knew it too and would do something about it once he found a suitable replacement. 

“I’ll review the update for anything urgent,” Richard said.  “Why don’t you sign off for today, Colonel?”

Marshall wasn’t going to argue.  “Thank you, Richard.”  He tapped his earpiece and let Teldy and Ford know he was going off duty.

Pilot launched himself into the air and flew ahead, leading Marshall back to John.

Their quarters were in the same tower as John’s previous room.  They were more extensive, a full apartment compared to a studio.  They had a living space with a small area for dining, two bedrooms each with their own bathroom.  John had only insisted on a balcony and ocean view.

Marshall smiled as Atlantis opened the door to let them in and he paused as he took in the sight of John’s team spread out in the den.  John was missing.

Ferry immediately jumped to his feet, almost dropping the laptop he’d been working on.  “Sir…”

“At ease, Ferry,” Marshall said. 

Teyla set aside the complicated crocheting she had been doing, pushing it into a nearby basket.  “John is sleeping out on the balcony.” 

She started to lever herself up off the sofa and Marshall moved to assist her since her agility was compromised by her very pregnant body.  She was due to give birth any moment. 

“Thank you, Marshall,” Teyla patted his hand and reached for her basket.  “Rodney!  It is time to leave.”

McKay hummed, hunched over his laptop at the dining table.  His attention was fully on his work and he hadn’t looked up from it since Marshall had entered.

“Rodney!” Teyla said more insistently.

McKay’s head jerked up.  “What?  Are you having the baby?  Please don’t be having the baby!  I’m not…”

“I am not in labour, Rodney,” Teyla said calmly.  “It is just time for us to go now Marshall is home.”

McKay’s head snapped towards Marshall.

Marshall was tempted to give him a small wave but settled instead for raising his eyebrows.

“Damn it,” McKay muttered.  “I missed the dial in to Earth, didn’t I?  I wanted to ask…”

“Their ETA is still five days,” Marshall confirmed.

McKay sighed.  “Right.”

“We have discussed this, Rodney,” Teyla said, “it is not a crime to need help to solve a problem.”

McKay rolled his eyes, but he started packing up his laptop and the other tablets he’d scattered around him on the table.  He glanced over at Marshall.  “He had soup for lunch, but nothing else.”

Marshall nodded his understanding.  John had been starved in the four days the Genii had held him.  His appetite and ability to handle food was still iffy.

“Thanks for keeping him company,” Marshall said as they made their way to the door.

Teyla placed a hand on his arm.  “You are both our family.  No thanks are needed.”

“Some thanks is…” McKay began.

A flash of Teyla’s eyes had McKay falling silent with a huff.

“Your anniversary gift from us is on the coffee table,” Teyla murmured.  “John wished for you to be present before he opened it.”

Marshall stooped to hug her and she pressed their foreheads together in the way of her people.  McKay gave an awkward wave and Ferry a sharp nod.  They were gone before Marshall could thank them again. 

He stripped off his jacket, unlaced his boots and set aside his weapons into the lockbox John and he kept on a shelf.  He picked up the beautifully wrapped flat package from the coffee table and made his way out to the balcony.

Pilot was perched on the railing, eyes pinned to John’s sleeping form on the large outdoor couch they’d managed to source for the space. 

John faced the railing, his back flush with the back cushions.  He was covered by an Athosian woven blanket which Teyla had given them for their house-warming when they’d moved in together officially.  Snow was snuggled up against him at his front, guarding John in Marshall’s place.

Marshall motioned for the soul animal to move as he dumped the package on the table.  Snow grumbled but eased away from John, jumping down lightly to the floor.  The wolf padded over and slumped to lie by the railing under Pilot’s perch.  Marshall slid into the empty position, tucking himself onto the couch, a bulwark between John and the rest of the world.    

John hummed and dropped a kiss on Marshall’s jaw.

Marshall shifted and kissed John lightly on the lips.  He thumbed over the vivid line of a knife cut down John’s forehead, the scrape on his cheekbone.  His right eye had been treated and wasn’t swollen, but the sickly yellow-green bruise gave away the fierce black eye John had sported at his rescue.  Marshall knew there was a matching ring of bruises around his throat, across his ribs; more thin cuts across his back; they were hidden under the soft cotton t-shirt and sweat pants John wore but Marshall knew they were there. 

John was healing though.  John was healing and he was alive.  That was the most important thing.

John shifted, snuggling closer into the curve of Marshall’s body.  “The team gone?”

“Yeah,” Marshall said, “McKay’s still grousing about needing Jackson.”

“He has this thing about SG1,” John said, amused.

“Teyla has him under control,” Marshall said cheerfully, remembering how quickly she managed to get McKay to subside.

“She has us all under control,” John commented dryly.  “I swear since she got pregnant, her ability to make us feel like idiots has gotten ten times more powerful.”

“She’s going to be a great mother,” Marshall said.

“Yeah, she is,” John agreed.  He rolled his shoulders despite the awkward position.  “Did the mission go OK?”

“If you call the team getting into trouble because of a Wraith-worshipping tribal Chief, getting out of trouble, Dex shooting said Chief and them getting home all limbs intact OK,” joked Marshall.

John offered a quirk of eyebrows. “Eh, that’s not so bad.”  He regarded Marshall for a moment.  “Ronon still being a dick about debriefing?”

“You can’t possibly tell that…” Marshall began.

John ran a finger down Marshall’s forehead lightly.  “You get this crease between your brow every time he does it.” He kissed Marshall. “I’ll talk to him.”

Marshall kissed him, letting them sink into the intimacy and comfort of each other.  They moved again to lie tangled together, comfortable in their own cuddle pile in the sunlight.

“How was the dial in?” asked John.

“Landry was Landry,” Marshall said shortly.  “The Gamma site was attacked; only the IOA reviewers and SG3 made it out.”

“Weir?” asked John after a few moments of silence.

“I don’t know if she counts as IOA or not,” Marshall said.  There would be a list of the dead in the update.  He had to admit it would bother him more if Weir had escaped and gone back to Earth than if she had died.  It probably made him a terrible person.

John made a soft sound.  “There’ll be a video from the kids and Dillon.”

Marshall let him change the subject.  Focusing on the kids and Dillon was better than getting too caught up in thinking about Weir that was for sure.

Dillon was blowing all predictions for his survival.  He’d stood as Marshall’s best man at the small wedding he and John had done when they’d visited Earth a few months before with their families. 

McKay had stood as John’s best man, but his brother and sister-in-law had been present with their kids.  John’s father had declined his invite but he had sent a gift and he and John had exchanged Christmas cards and birthday greetings.  Marshall was just thankful that all three of Marshall’s kids had adopted John into their family without hesitation and John was slowly coming to trust that he had family again.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year since we bonded.”

“Me either,” John murmured, his fingers snagging the bottom of Marshall’s t-shirt and holding onto it.

A year.

A year since Marshall had charged to John’s rescue, only for John to shoot the Wraith in the head himself.  A year since Past Sheppard had healed John…

A year since they’d found the last video log from Sheppard recorded in the jumper he’d taken to explain that he couldn’t use Atlantis’ own defences without draining too much power; that he’d taken the jumper and the pod with the intent of blowing up the Wraith ship from the inside.  Apparently, alerting John to the danger of the Wraith ship in the first place had been a failsafe installed by Janus – John because it turned out Janus was his ancestor.  Nyan had theorised that it was possible that John’s ATA gene and the Ascension gifts had been something Janus had done too to enable John to survive whatever attack might happen.

Marshall shifted so he could look at John.  “If you ever need to Ascend to live, you should do it.”

John regarded with an unsurprised even gaze, his multi-coloured eyes looking back at Marshall with calm contemplation. 

“I’d rather have the possibility of you coming back than never coming back at all,” Marshall explained. 

“You know if you were anyone else, I’d deny even the possibility I could,” John murmured.

“But I’m not just anyone,” Marshall said smugly.  And he wasn’t falling for John’s ‘nothing to see here’ trick.

John smiled and kissed him. 

“The team left their present for us when you’re ready to open it,” Marshall ran his thumb over John’s lips.

John hummed again.  “My present for you is in the bedroom.”

Marshall laughed.  “I’m sure it is.”

John chuckled.  “Well, that too, but I did actually get you something.”

“Me too,” Marshall said.  He leaned in and dropped another kiss on John’s lips; soft and tender and loving John so much he ached with it.

John replied with a kiss of his own, fierce and loving.  “Still feel like the universe is laughing at you?”

“All the time,” Marshall said with fond amusement, “but never about you, this.”

And then they were kissing, and Marshall set about celebrating their anniversary with the warmth of two suns shining down on them, the towering spires of Atlantis protecting them, and their soul animals watching over them always.

fin.