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vain_gloriousPart 1 for header info
~
Teyla had ordered Chinese food for dinner. She muttered something sheepish about there being nothing to eat in the fridge.
“Is there usually?” Sheppard asked her, sitting at their dining room table. She was at the head, he was next to her. He didn’t want to sit opposite and he didn’t know where he usually sat.
“No,” Teyla murmured. She shrugged. “I do not always understand how long food can stay in the refrigerator,” she said.
“Me, either,” Sheppard agreed.
Teyla looked at him. “I know,” she said, warmly. “We have a problem.”
Sheppard dropped his eyes. She wasn’t even saying anything – talking about anything – and it was so weird. Affection. Intimacy. Teyla.
He’d been happy to get out of the SGC infirmary. But he hadn’t thought about what it’d be like to be in a home that wasn’t his, with the spouse he didn’t remember. He didn’t know how he was going to do this without losing his mind.
Teyla seemed to realize how awkward it was, because Daniel Jackson and Vala Mal Doran showed up with their Chinese food. It made their first night home – or so everyone else thought it was Sheppard’s home – a little easier. Between the two of them, neither Sheppard nor Teyla really had to talk.
It gave Sheppard a chance to see how other people interacted with Teyla. She and Vala really were friends. That was readily apparent, as much as Sheppard totally wouldn’t have expected it.
He was glad that she had friends – even if Vala and Jackson weren’t exactly his first choice for dinner guests. That was important.
Also of importance was the fact that
Except that alcohol was on Lam’s no-no list, along with driving and anything that could shake up his brain even more.
“Lam said no,” he told
Sheppard shrugged. He paused, then twisted off the top, anyway.
Things must have been really different after the failed Atlantis mission. Sheppard had never given any thought to staying and working at the SGC – not even when the fucking Replicators had kicked them all out of Atlantis. The whole time he had known about the Stargate program, it had all been about Atlantis, about Pegasus, about the Wraith. His life had been about that, and about the people there.
He didn’t remember the life he had here, even if some of the same people were involved. And further, despite every session with Heightmeyer, he still found he didn’t particularly want to remember this life.
Jackson and Vala kept the conversation going, but eventually they moved off random crap like the weather or the last madcap adventure Vala had caused and on to topics Sheppard couldn’t really follow. He got up with the excuse of using the bathroom, except once he was out of the room he realized he didn’t actually know where it was.
So, Sheppard looped around and ended up drinking his beer in the kitchen, alone. He wasn’t hiding or anything. But he didn’t know where the bathroom was nor did he want to ask. His absence was probably really obvious, but he was a crazy amnesiac with a brain injury, so there.
He figured someone could come find him and make sure he hadn’t freaked out and fled the house completely, but he didn’t expect it to be Vala.
She came swaggering in to the kitchen and glanced around dramatically, like she couldn’t immediately see him leaning against the refrigerator.
“Oh,” she said, brightly. “There you are!”
Sheppard grunted and went to sip his beer, except it was getting low.
Vala moved closer. “Search parties,” she said, “Daniel’s downstairs, Teyla’s upstairs.” She squinted at him. “Think they may have called in to the SGC to set up a perimeter.”
Sheppard scowled at her. He didn’t particularly feel like confessing how hard it was to be in a room while they talked about stuff he had allegedly experienced, too.
“Couldn’t find the bathroom,” he said, which didn’t feel good to confess, either.
That didn’t fly with Vala. She tilted her head. “I don’t think it’s in here,” she said, thoughtfully.
He shrugged, drank the last drop of his beer and put the bottle down on the counter.
“You know,” Vala said, sidling over and leaning against the opposite side of the fridge. “I lost my memory once.”
She waited for a response, but he didn’t give her one. This was a story he didn’t know, either because it hadn’t mattered or it hadn’t happened in the universe he knew.
“Goa’uld bitch,” Vala said. “Kidnapped me and accidentally fried my brain.”
“Explains a lot,” Sheppard said, unkindly.
This got him an irritated sideways glance, but nothing else.
“I didn’t remember who I was,” Vala continued. “Or who my friends were. And I may have been a little…paranoid.”
“I’m not paranoid,” Sheppard shot back, since he hadn’t accused anyone of being an alien hallucination in months. He hadn’t even mentioned his Ascension theory to anyone.
Vala ignored him. “But I wasn’t nearly as miserable as you.” Sheppard opened his mouth, but she went on. “I made new friends. I was a waitress!”
“What-“ Sheppard interrupted.
“I could get you a job,” Vala continued. “Sal’s a nice man. But you would have to wear a hat. Your head is scary.”
Sheppard waited, but she didn’t say anything else. “Are you done?”
“No,” Vala snapped. “Have you had sex yet?”
He sank back against the fridge, closing his eyes. “Do you have anything helpful at all to say?”
Vala took that as permission to jab him in the chest with her finger ‘til he opened his eyes and swatted her hand away.
“You’re being a jerk,” she said. “You need to relax. You like it here.” She paused. “I can’t volunteer my services, there’s a conflict of interest.”
“You’re a lunatic,” Sheppard retorted. He went to grab her finger, but she was faster than him and he missed.
“I’m the lunatic?” Vala questioned. She put her hands on hips and tilted her head. “I’m not the one acting like my spouse is holding me hostage.”
Sheppard gritted his teeth. “I’m not-” he began.
“You are,” Vala interrupted.
“I don’t remember!” Sheppard yelled, then snapped his mouth shut because Teyla and Jackson had to have heard that. He really didn’t want to have a confrontation in his kitchen with its stupid yellow appliances and Vala pushing all of his buttons. “I don’t remember any of this and I don’t want to be here,” he hissed, lower. It came bubbling out without his permission. “I don’t want to be here.”
Vala didn’t look particularly horrified. Her eyes slid sideways, towards the entry way where Teyla and Jackson were now standing. Both of whom looked considerably less happy.
“Shit,” Sheppard said, and decided it was time to stare at the floor.
He half-expected to get packed back to
Sheppard stayed leaning against the refrigerator not looking at anybody. The Chinese food got cleaned up, which didn’t take long.
“Sorry,” Sheppard muttered, when he and Teyla were finally alone again. It sounded really inadequate. “Vala doesn’t really…” he paused. “…help.”
“I know,” Teyla replied, after a moment. She sounded mostly neutral. “It’s alright. Daniel asked her not to ‘help’ any more.”
“Okay,” Sheppard said. “Sorry.”
It wasn’t that late, maybe a little past ten. But Teyla looked at him and stated, “You look tired. Maybe you should sleep now.”
Sheppard nodded. “Okay.” He went on. “I’ll take the couch.”
Now, Teyla looked confused. “What?” she asked.
“The couch,” Sheppard repeated. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
For some reason, this completely baffled Teyla, because she continued to blink at him.
“Why?” she asked.
He was too tense to sugarcoat it. “Because it’s weird,” he said, heavily. “It’ll be easier.”
“Not for me,” Teyla said, brow creased.
Sheppard shrugged. “Just pretend I was a jerk.” Possibly she didn’t have to pretend at all.
Teyla crossed her arms. “I do not understand,” she said, plainly.
It was hard for Sheppard to believe that he’d never ended up sacked out on the couch before. Except that maybe Teyla didn’t know she had the option and he’d never informed her. Way to be a jackass, Sheppard.
“It’s an Earth custom,” he said, still not really looking her. “Or at least an American one. When one, um, partner is an asshole, he has to sleep on the couch so that –” he knows he won’t be getting any sex that night, yeah he wasn’t saying that – “everyone knows where they stand.”
“I know where I stand,” Teyla replied, evenly. “And I would like my husband to sleep in our bed.”
He wasn’t going to fight with her. Sheppard didn’t have the energy and there wasn’t any point. Whatever.
Sheppard shrugged in acquiescence, and even though he was giving in Teyla’s expression didn’t lighten at all. Vala’s description of his behavior, that he was acting like a hostage, rang in his head.
“Okay,” he said, trying to sound cooperative and nice and not like a selfish and crazy asshole. “Okay.”
~
It wasn’t as bad as he thought. It wasn’t really…anything. It was just lying in a bed – which was at least two times as big as his bed on Atlantis – with Teyla beside him. She didn’t try anything – and yes, thinking like that made him feel like an insecure virginal teenage fucking girl – or even want to talk. He guessed after the scene in the kitchen, she probably didn’t really want to hear him say anything else.
He was still tense. And so was she. In the silence, he could hear her breathing too lightly to be sleeping. Sheppard couldn’t relax and even though he felt drained and exhausted, he didn’t feel sleepy.
Sheppard was fairly sure they spent a couple of hours lying in the darkness, not sleeping, listening to each other not sleep.
Eventually, though, he opened his eyes and it was morning. He must have drifted off. Daylight streaked in through the windows. Sheppard had no idea what time it was, but Teyla was gone from the other side of the bed.
He found her in the kitchen, already dressed. Sheppard had yanked on a pair of jeans and t-shirt he found in bureau in his bedroom. Their bedroom. He’d slept in sweats, which he never did but he’d also never slept with Teyla like that before.
Teyla smiled at him when he came downstairs. “Good morning,” she said, warmly. Evidently pretending he hadn’t freaked out last night.
“Hey,” Sheppard said. He ran a hand through his hair. Or where he would have had hair if it hadn’t been shaved down to stubble and short little bristles.
“Breakfast?” she asked him.
He had no idea what their morning ritual was. Hell, if they were both on SG teams, he’d bet they rarely had breakfast on Earth let alone together.
“Um, okay.”
“There’s cereal,” Teyla said, flatly. “And I know how to make toast.”
Sheppard grinned. “Sounds good.”
They ate together in the dining room, where Sheppard had run away the night before. But it wasn’t as awkward, this time. Maybe because Vala and Jackson weren’t there. Friends or not, he didn’t know them. And as much as he didn’t know this Teyla, he still knew her.
“What day is it?” Sheppard asked, when he was halfway through his cornflakes. It had occurred to him that he didn’t know, hadn’t know for a while. Maybe since he’d woken up.
“Thursday,” Teyla answered, curiously. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Just wanted to know.”
It was kind of strange that Jackson and Vala had been on the planet to come around the day before. Not that the SGC kept anything like a normal schedule, but sometimes they did try to get people home for the weekends.
And Teyla was on a SG team, too.
Somehow, Teyla read his mind before he was able to ask the question.
“I have taken a leave of absence,” she said.
“For how long?” Sheppard asked.
Teyla didn’t answer immediately. “Indefinitely.”
Until Sheppard no longer needed a babysitter, was what she didn’t say.
“We’re in the same boat,” he said, after a moment. “Then.”
Silent, Teyla gave a small nod. She looked uncertain what reaction she should give.
“That’s not really fair to you,” Sheppard said.
“There is no place I would rather be,” Teyla replied, completely sincerely.
Sheppard looked down at his cereal, because he didn’t really have anything to say to that.
~
There wasn’t much to do. Sheppard wasn’t in the mood to play video games and his motor skills were still kind of fucked up, so even when Teyla hopefully suggested it as something to fill the awkward silences, it didn’t really work out.
Teyla tried to orient him a little to their home, taking him on a tour of the house and explaining every piece of artwork and every book. They avoided the baby room, thankfully.
The art was stuff that reminded her of Athos, as Sheppard had guessed. They’d bought all the furniture together, in trips that Sheppard didn’t remember but apparently involved Teyla attempting to barter at Ikea. That sounded interesting.
They had a lot of yellow stuff. The couch, the kitchen things, bath towels, even their bed sheets. Sheppard didn’t get it. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Teyla even wear anything yellow. And it wasn’t exactly his favorite color. He didn’t want to ask her about it, though. It seemed dumb.
“Would you like to look at some pictures?” Teyla asked, when they were back in the living room and she had run out of stories to tell about the furniture.
“Okay,” Sheppard agreed, since refusing outright was probably not okay.
Teyla put a hand up to her face, like maybe she regretted suggesting it. “Sam made a book for us,” she said.
“An album?” Sheppard translated.
“Yes,” Teyla said. “Of our wedding.”
Sheppard wished he’d said no. Instead, he sat down on the couch. “Let’s see it.”
He could keep the crazy freak outs on the inside; Teyla wouldn’t have to see them.
Teyla was looking at him, eyes assessing his face. “You do not have to,” she offered. Maybe he wasn’t hiding it all that well.
“Can’t hurt,” he said.
Slowly, Teyla retrieved a glossy white binder from the bookshelf. He hadn’t seen it before. She handed it over and took a seat beside him on the couch. Sheppard noticed she gave him plenty of space, allowing enough distance that a third person could have sat between them.
“This is your tradition,” Teyla said, gesturing at the binder with her head. “I did not really understand it and Sam said you would not observe it so she did it for us.”
“Yeah,” Sheppard said.
He knew a little about weddings. Not that he’d done much for his. Deployed until like a week before and most of the organizational tasks were, well, for chicks. Sheppard wondered what had happened to that album –
Teyla cleared her throat. Sheppard must have been staring off into space. Abruptly, he opened the binder on his lap, steeling himself to at the very least not show it if the images inside wigged him out.
The dress was yellow, too. Teyla’s wedding dress.
“Huh,” he said, out loud. Teyla glanced at him curiously. “You like yellow,” he said, which was in itself a fairly harmless observation.
The corners of Teyla’s mouth crinkled. “Athosian tradition,” she informed him, but she was speaking like he’d known this at some point. “I did not see the point of wearing white for virginity when that was not the case.”
Sheppard kind of choked. “Practical,” he said. “Um, you look good.”
That wasn’t actually true. Teyla looked thin, nearly swimming in the big yellow gown. Thin and her skin was closer to grey than golden brown. She was also sitting down in most of the pictures. And when she was standing, she was holding very tightly to Sheppard in the photos. Teyla was gorgeous as ever, but she didn’t look healthy.
“When was this?” he asked.
“About four years ago,” Teyla replied. She was getting a lot better at hiding her disappointment when he didn’t know stuff.
The scars on her stomach flashed in his mind. “You were still hurt,” he said, dipping with his chin down at her lap.
Teyla didn’t deny it. “I was recovering,” she said
Sheppard did the math in his head. Their wedding had to have been months and months after the return – the rescue – from Pegasus. Maybe a whole year. But Teyla still looked gutshot.
“It must have been bad,” he said.
Teyla shrugged. Maybe she thought he was avoiding discussing the wedding, that he preferred to talk about gunshot wounds than their marriage.
“I am well now,” was all she said.
“Okay,” Sheppard said, and dropped it. He went back to looking at the photos.
It was a wedding. There wasn’t much else to say. Sheppard recognized all the participants. He was in his dress blues, of course. Air Force blue and Teyla’s favorite shade of buttery yellow made for a totally bizarre combination. The Sheppard in the photos looked…well, happy, he guessed. Not really focusing on the camera, even when looking right at it.
Weddings were about the bride and Teyla didn’t look particularly comfortable in the spotlight. Athosians probably didn’t do it the same way. And she was sick. Not sick, but hurt. He could read it in her face under the smile and in her posture.
Besides the pain, he recognized the expression on her face. He didn’t remember a single other thing in the pictures, but this he’d seen before. Usually, he was right by her side when he saw it.
Whenever they had a trading mission where their Pegasus allies required some kind of elaborate song-and-dance ritual before handing over the goods, Teyla’s face looked like that. Part hesitance, part carefully concealed bemusement behind a willing smile. It was like that, except she looked less confident and way more confused. This wasn’t her galaxy.
Usually, when Sheppard saw that face, McKay was behind them squawking about whatever ridiculousness they were acting out. Ronon would be next to him, too cool to be bothered.
Ronon was not at the wedding. Duh. Neither was McKay, which given the bile in his ‘not-actually-glad-you’re-alive’ e-mail shouldn’t have been surprising. Sheppard still found himself scanning the pictures of the guests for his face.
Weir wasn’t there, either. But Carson Beckett was. He appeared to be playing the role of father of bride, or he was just helping Teyla stand since it really didn’t look like she could do it by herself.
As Ford had claimed, he was a groomsman. So was Dave.
Sheppard blinked. His brother hadn’t even stood up at his wedding. Er, his first wedding.
Dad was there, too. And there were photos of the three Sheppard men together with no one fighting, scowling, or even glaring at each other. Which was a freaking miracle.
“Huh,” Sheppard said, out loud, his finger drifting over the faces of his father and brother.
“Hmm?” asked Teyla.
“Dad,” Sheppard said.
“Yes,” Teyla said, sounding like she hadn’t quite interpreted the inflection in his voice.
Sam Carter and Vala Mal Doran had stood up for Teyla. Carter in her uniform and Vala in a massive poofy purple dress topped with a tiara. She looked to be having a great time, maybe even making herself the center of attention. Teyla might not have minded.
“Where was this?” Sheppard asked. It didn’t look familiar, some place indoors with indistinct corporate décor.
“A hotel near the SGC,” Teyla answered. She gave a reminiscent smile. “It was one of the first times I was allowed off base.”
Sheppard looked at her.
“I am an alien,” Teyla reminded him.
“Yeah, but –” he pointed at the pictures – “you can barely stand up by yourself.”
Teyla shrugged.
“That’s why you don’t remember Rodney or Elizabeth,” Sheppard said, realization dawning. “You were injured.”
“I was not conscious during most of the time you were on Athos,” Teyla confirmed. She made a face. “Or for the first few months here.”
“Jesus.” He was looking at her stomach again, covered as it was by her clothing.
“I was not in pain. I do not remember it,” she assured him.
“Yeah,” Sheppard said, closing the wedding album. “Me, either.”
~
It got less awkward. Mostly because Sheppard didn’t spend a lot of thinking about the fact that he and Teyla were supposed to be together, married, trying to have a kid. Stuff was clarifying itself in his head. He didn’t remember it, but he understood what had happened in Pegasus now. They had the wrong address to Atlantis, ending up on some shitstorm planet. His soldiers had freaked about the Wraith on Athos and shot anything that moved. Teyla had moved.
The Atlantis mission had failed. The Wraith had continued to sleep. The Athosians had been culled. Sheppard, the entire surviving mission crew, and the lone alien woman they were responsible for nearly killing had been rescued by the Prometheus and brought home.
It wasn’t that complicated.
It was kind of plausible.
Why Sheppard didn’t remember any of it, why he had crystal clear, vivid memories for five entire years of everything going completely differently…
Heightmeyer’s ‘disassociative fugue’ diagnosis wasn’t helpful. He didn’t think his brain worked like that. It just didn’t.
The fourth night Sheppard was home, he started talking to Teyla.
He was listening to her breathe next to him, almost steadily enough to be asleep but not quite.
“Hey,” he said, causing her to jerk in place like she’d really been almost out. In the dimness, he could see Teyla turned her face towards him.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, instantly wide awake and alarmed.
“No,” he said, quickly. “I just…” Now he felt dumb bringing it up, but he couldn’t just tell her to go back to sleep. “Um,” Sheppard continued, rushing on so he wouldn’t stop himself. “Does the word ‘Runner’ mean anything to you?”
Teyla softly cleared her throat. Sheppard felt the mattress move as she shifted her weight. The sheets rustled as Teyla turned toward him.
She didn’t speak immediately. He imagined the question totally baffled her.
“Yes,” Teyla said, after a minute. She was speaking slowly, like she was translating a foreign language for him. “You were a runner, yes? While you were a student.”
For a second, Sheppard blinked at her. “Oh,” he realized. “In high school. Yeah.” He’d never told Teyla that. Never told his Teyla. Sheppard gave a short, humorless chuckle. “No,” he said. Nowhere close to that. “Not here. In Pegasus.”
“In Pegasus?” Teyla repeated, curiously.
That didn’t sound promising. Sheppard let his head tilt back, ready to tell her to forget it.
Teyla was silent for a second. Then, “In Pegasus,” she said, still slowly but with slightly more bewilderment. “There is a legend.”
Sheppard closed his eyes. He kept them shut while she continued.
“A legend about men taken by the Wraith who are not fed upon,” Teyla said. “They are chased. Hunted for sport.”
Sheppard felt her move, the mattress under him swaying as she sat up sharply in bed. He heard a click and then brightness flashed against his eyelids. She must have turned on the bedside lamp.
Opening his eyes, Sheppard squinted into the light.
“I do not think I ever told you of that,” Teyla said. She was staring at him with wide eyes, almost accusingly. “There is no reason I would have.”
Sheppard raised one hand to his face, shielded it from the lamp light. He nodded, didn’t answer.
“Why did you ask?” Teyla questioned. She paused. “How did you know to ask?”
Sheppard rolled on to his side, so that he was facing her.
“I met one,” he said, bluntly. “And he’s not here.”
Teyla stared at him. “You remember someone…” she trailed off, unable to figure out how to talk about the stuff that had happened only in his head.
He didn’t make her try. “Yeah,” he said. “We met him in Pegasus. We cut out the tracker.”
Teyla was just blinking at him.
“You,” Sheppard continued. “And I, and Carson, and McKay – that guy you don’t know.”
He paused, cast a glance at Teyla. Sheppard almost wished the lights weren’t on. In the darkness, he wouldn’t have been able to see every disbelieving crease in her face.
“That did not happen,” Teyla said, gently. Her eyes slid sideways, like she was considering calling Heightmeyer for help.
Sheppard rolled on to his back again, folding his arms above the sheet and not looking at her anymore.
“He was Running for seven years before we found him,” Sheppard said.
Teyla made an indecipherable noise. He waited. “It is a legend,” she said. “But that is too long.”
“I know,” Sheppard said, keeping his voice reasonable. Like he wasn’t arguing reality with her. “But if we didn’t find him, it’s been another four years.”
Teyla was silent. Maybe she wasn’t willing to argue about reality with him.
Sheppard raised one arm and laid it over his eyes to block the lamp. “He’s still out there,” he said. “And it’s really bothering me.”
After a second, the bed squeaked as Teyla moved and there was another click as the she turned the light off. He felt her lying back down.
“I must have mentioned the legend to you,” she murmured, awkwardly.
Sheppard didn’t answer. He felt her lying stiffly next to him, awake and silent, for hours after that.
~
Teyla must have told Heightmeyer about Sheppard’s obsession with an imaginary friend. She didn’t bring it up, but all of sudden they decided he should spend a lot more time on base. Not just returning for therapy of various kinds, but for a totally bullshit job. It was to keep him busy, in case he truly was crazy, probably. Quicker response time in case he started talking to walls or tried to take a gun off an Airman.
His new job was reading reconnaissance team leader reports and flagging any incidents of military impropriety.
Uh-huh.
Ford claimed he’d actually had this duty for years. Ford – this young man who’d never taken an overdose of Wraith enzyme – was a really shitty liar.
Lorne and Mitchell were less willing to engage in the charade, but neither would they share his outrage
“Hey,” Mitchell tried. “You were worried about getting shitcanned, right?”
Sheppard glared at him. “This is better?”
Mitchell shrugged, helplessly.
“This really was your job,” Lorne said, in the awkward silence. “You, um, might not have done it very often, but General Jack O’Neill put you in charge of it. Really.”
“Why would he do that?” Sheppard demanded.
“I think the President wanted someone to do it,” Lorne muttered.
“O’Neill has a bizarre sense of humor,” Mitchell said.
~
In as much as the job was O’Neill’s way of screwing someone over politically and the SGC’s way of keeping an eye of Sheppard, at least it meant Sheppard got to stick around the SGC. The reports that he rubberstamped without reading were somewhat reassuring in that they weren’t squeezing him out anymore, either not fearing that he was going to flip out and call the Russians – or worse CNN – with classified intel or thinking that they’d probably be able to stop him if he did.
Less awkward time at home with Teyla in the suburban 2.5 kids house with a goddamn nursery was good. He was probably an asshole for thinking that, but it was true. Ever since his confession about Ronon, Teyla looked at him differently. Sort of like she thought he was genuinely crazy. Which he apparently was, but he didn’t like it when Teyla obviously thought so. The something’s-wrong-with-you expression on her face was really hard to look at.
Of course, as soon as he had that thought, stuff changed to make him regret it.
Teyla’s team had been going out into the field without her, for however long now. Months, Sheppard guessed. It’d been, well, a long time since he’d woken up that day in the infirmary. More than six months.
And suddenly they needed her back.
Teyla was horribly guilty about it. She and Cameron Mitchell broke the news to him together, like they thought it would upset him. People liked having Mitchell around when they thought Sheppard would get pissed. He wasn’t entirely sure why. Either they were really good friends or people thought Mitchell could pin Sheppard down long enough for someone to stab him with a sedative.
“We have had relations with this tribe for almost two years,” Teyla explained, twisting her hands nervously before her in a way he’d never seen before. “Trying to gain access to a cache of advanced technology abandoned in their territory.”
“Ancient tech?” Sheppard asked, perking up.
“No,” Mitchell said. “Snakes. Goa’uld hideout.”
“Oh.” Sheppard tried not to look disappointed. He was fairly sure the treasure at hand wasn’t supposed to be his business.
“I established contact with the leader,” Teyla said. “He will not allow SGC teams in to his territory without me.”
“Got a crush?” Sheppard joked.
Both Teyla and Cameron looked at him without any amusement and he dropped his chin. Evidently, this was serious. “Okay,” he said. “Well, you should go.”
Teyla sighed. “It will be a lengthy mission.”
“Okay.” Sheppard shrugged.
“The territory is far from the ‘Gate and the retrieval will take some time,” she continued. “I must stay for the duration.”
“It’ll be a while,” said Mitchell.
“How long?”
“Perhaps a month?” Teyla frowned. She looked worried again. “I do not wish to leave you.”
“I’ll be okay,” Sheppard said. He was trying very hard not to feel like they were treating him like a kid needing reassurance. “I have stuff to do, too.” He pointed at the pile of stupid files he wasn’t going to read sitting on the desk.
“You’re gonna have to stay at the SGC while she’s gone,” Mitchell said, bluntly. That must have been why he was here.
“Why?” Sheppard asked.
“Lam is concerned about you being on your own with –” Mitchell made a gesture by his own head that evidently was supposed to mean ‘scrambled brains.’
“I’m fine,” Sheppard retorted. He was fine. The physical therapy had fixed his body and his hair was growing back. Other than the amnesia, which maybe was a big deal, he was fine.
Teyla didn’t say anything.
“You can argue with Lam all you want,” Mitchell said. “I’m just telling you.”
Sheppard glowered at him, until he noticed Teyla’s face. “It’s fine,” he told her. “Clearly, I’ll have plenty of babysitters.”
~
Teyla’s mission was going to last way longer than a month. SG teams were pulling all sorts of Goa’uld crap out of that place and she had to stay ‘til it was done. Mitchell eventually told him that yeah, the chief guy did totally have a crush on her.
It was weird without her. Sheppard missed her. He also missed being allowed to leave the SGC, since as strange as the house had been, not being allowed to leave the base again was even stranger and creepy. But he mostly missed Teyla.
Lam gave him totally bullshit reasons for his confinement, like the possibility of seizure or sudden disorientation. The same reasons he wasn’t allowed to drive. Neither had happened yet, though maybe ‘amnesia’ covered ‘disorientation.’
His friends stuck around to make him feel less like a prisoner. SG-1 wasn’t going out in the field. Jackson and the archaeologists were up to their ears in the stuff coming back from Teyla’s mission. Sheppard’s own team, however, was going out. Without him, of course. So he didn’t see Ford or Lorne much, but the rest of SG-1 had taken over babysitting him. And it was babysitting, no matter what they called it.
He was fairly sure Vala and Teal’c had more freedom of movement than he did at the moment. Which really didn’t seem fair.
They let him in on stuff that was probably team-only, like poker and movie night. Poker wasn’t fair since somehow they all knew his tells and he didn’t know theirs. Teal’c was inscrutable. Also, Vala cheated like crazy.
Movie night was okay, except it made Sheppard think of movie night on Atlantis and then he wasn’t okay at all. Getting upset over crappy rented DVD’s seemed like a surefire way to get booked back to the SGC for an intensive session with Heightmeyer, so Sheppard tried to hide it. In the dark, with Mitchell and Sam trying to explain “Honey I Shrunk the Kids” to the two aliens, Sheppard could sit on the couch and be inconspicuously self-pitying.
The shrink-ray would have caused McKay’s head to explode and at least an hour of ranting. Sheppard thought Mitchell’s technique of preemptively punching Carter in the arm every time she opened her mouth was pretty effective, except it would have just changed the topic of McKay’s complaints.
Carter might have developed mind-reading abilities.
“Hey,” she said, barely taking her eyes off the screen. “I’m heading to a physics conference next week. We’re presenting an article on adapted Asgard tech and pretending it doesn’t work yet. I think your old friend Rodney McKay will probably be there.”
“Yeah?” Sheppard asked.
“It’s a trick,” Vala announced. “There’s no treasure hunt and it full of very boring, irritatingly intense scientists with no sense of humor.”
“You’re still banned,” Carter said, easily.
“Good,” retorted Vala.
“What do I have to do to get banned?” asked Mitchell.
“Touch things,” interjected Teal’c.
“Or people,” Vala added. “That works, too.”
“Can do,” Mitchell said. “The first one, anyway.”
Carter pointedly ignored them. “If you’re getting bored on base, it’s something to do,” she offered Sheppard. “Fair warning that it’s a lot of technobabble and people criticizing each other.”
“Okay,” Sheppard said, keeping his voice neutral. “Sounds good.”
~
The conference was actually very near
After her initial offer, Carter seemed a little confused that he’d actually accepted. Sheppard tried not to seem eager.
“I have to warn you," Carter said in the car. "It's probably not your thing."
Sheppard was in the back seat. Dr. Bill Lee had shotgun next to Carter.
"In the past, she's usually tricked people," Lee agreed. "And then I get to hear about it all the way home." He glanced over his shoulder at Sheppard.
Sheppard shrugged. "Alternative is locked up in
In the review mirror, Sheppard caught Carter pulling a face. No one liked it when he bitched about the fact he was essentially being held prisoner.
"Well, you'll get to see some of your old friends from the Atlantis mission," Carter said, lightly. "I think half the Science department will probably be there."
"Hmm," Sheppard said. He didn't want to advertise that his only interest in this trip was to see McKay. Everyone would know that was weird. They sure weren't 'old friends' according to most people's definitions.
~
The conference was actually just as boring as the rest of SG-1 had insinuated. Vala would probably have flipped out and caused some kind of chaos after five minutes. Sheppard could see that. Initially, Carter seemed to want him to stick close to her and Dr. Lee. Orders from Dr. Lam, probably. But it didn't take long for her to get totally distracted by all the science stuff and just nod at him when he made a vague 'I'm gonna take a walk' gesture at her.
Sheppard wandered around the conference center alone after that. He did recognize some of the Atlantis science staff. But they didn't recognize him. Or maybe they did and had no interest in talking to him precisely for that reason. He didn't know what kind of relationship they'd had. Maybe none. From what he'd read of the mission reports the months before the Prometheus had shown up to rescue them from Athos had mostly entailed cowering in the caves while rationing out food. In that situation, Sheppard didn't know that he'd have bothered to do anything except periodically yell at the civilians for doing stupid things.
Sheppard saw one face that made him halt in his tracks. He didn't know that he should approach. He hadn't really had the opportunity to interact with anyone who'd played a big part in his memories of Atlantis, outside Lorne and Ford. And they had different versions that still involved him being there for the past five years. The civilians that hadn't seen him in that time wouldn't have that baggage. And he didn't think Radek Zelenka had come back to the Stargate program after the Atlantis mission failed.
Slowly, Sheppard ambled over to the table where the Czech scientist was sitting. There was a poster with text boxes, graphs, and charts behind him, and two laptop screens set up as well. Zelenka was alone at the moment, which was probably for the best. He was looking down at one of the laptop screens and clicking at the keyboard. His face was irritated.
"Hey," Sheppard said, after he walked up.
Zelenka didn't look up. He was muttering angrily under his breath.
"Hey," Sheppard said, louder.
Zelenka jerked in place, then looked up. For a second he just blinked at Sheppard.
"Hey, Radek," Sheppard said.
"Um," Zelenka said. He shook his head. "Colonel Sheppard?"
"Yeah."
Zelenka was sort of squinting at him. "I didn't think you knew my first name," he said, surprised. "I didn't think you knew my name at all."
Sheppard didn't say anything.
"I mean," Zelenka said, awkwardly. "Hello."
"Hi," Sheppard replied. He had no idea what to say. He hadn't really planned anything.
"What are you doing here?" Zelenka asked, bluntly. Not angry or anything, which was probably good.
"I came with Colonel Carter," Sheppard answered. "Thought I'd see some of the old Atlantis crew."
Zelenka was staring at him. "Why?" He looked baffled.
Sheppard was wearing the same old skull cap they'd put on him the day they'd sent him home. Lam had said the patchwork on his head could come out soon, but hadn't done anything about it yet. Sheppard reached up and took of the cap. Zelenka instantly recoiled. Then, he winced.
"Sorry," he apologized. "What happened?"
"I hit my head," Sheppard said, keeping the cap off just long enough for Zelenka to get a good understanding of just how inadequate that statement was. "I don't remember the past five years."
"Oh," said Zelenka. "Ohhhh." His eyes were big.
"Yeah," Sheppard said. "Starting with our mission."
"Ah." Zelenka nodded. "I'm sorry."
Sheppard shrugged.
"You are here to remember, then?" Zelenka asked.
"Can't hurt," Sheppard said, although it was possible that Zelenka wouldn't react all that badly if Sheppard honestly told him how disinterested he was in remembering the past five years everyone else thought had happened.
"I don't know if I can help," Zelenka said, suddenly hurrying. "I am very busy." He pointed at the laptop he'd been focusing on. "My program is not working."
Sheppard guessed Zelenka didn't want to be the one to tell Sheppard how big a jerk he'd been to the civilians.
"Yeah," Sheppard said. "That's okay. People telling me about it hasn't really helped, anyway."
"Oh, okay." Zelenka was visibly relieved. "Are not supposed to talk about it in public, anyways. I would go to prison."
"Right."
There was silence for a second while Sheppard waited for Zelenka to say something and Zelenka fidgeted with the laptop's space bar.
"So, what are you up to now, Radek?"
"Um." Zelenka looked confused. "I teach at university. I am here on research project on..." he paused, nodded, then went on, "science."
Sheppard wasn't offended the man didn't think he'd understand. He seemed totally shocked that Sheppard cared enough to ask.
"Cool," he said. "I'm glad things are going well."
"Thanks," Zelenka said, but he didn't stop looking baffled. "Appreciate it."
Sheppard nodded, made as if to walk away. "Good to see you."
"Ah, yes, you, too," Zelenka said. "I am glad that you..." - he tapped his own head - "did not die." And that actually sounded kind of genuine.
"Thanks, Radek."
~
~please feed the author~
