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Chapter Text

"To captain Hippolyta!" the crew cheered as they raised their glasses.

Antiope raised hers as well but did not take a single sip from it and did not join the others in their celebration. There was nothing to celebrate. They lost. They lost the war and they lost Atlantis. They ran away with a tail between their legs and let the whole population of the galaxy be the livestock of the wraith. The wraith that THEY created in the first place!

It was all their fault. They created all that mess and then just left it like that since it was too much trouble to clean up after themselves. She could toast to Hippolyta, to her dear sister who sacrificed her life so her crew could live, but she could not celebrate their return to Terra. If nothing else, they were not there yet.

Antiope waited an hour for the celebration to escalate to the point that no one would notice her absence and then she slipped through the door to the empty hallway. She made her way through the empty corridors to the hangar bay 3 where the gateships were located.

Under normal circumstances, there would be dozens of gateships in all of the hangar bays, but they lost so many in the war. The Hamazan was a frontline battleship and went through too many battles. They lost too many gateships and too many personnel. At the moment, there were only two gateships in the hangar.

She entered one of them, the lights turning on to greet her. She sat down in the cockpit and downed the still full glass she was clutching in her hand. This was where she belonged. She was a pilot. One of the best there was. Not that it meant much.

The gateships weren't originally meant for battle. They were merely a mean of transport, designed to be able to fly them through the Astria Portas and that anyone could do it. Even when they had a need for them during the space battles, no one really relied on them or their pilots. It was the engineers, the scientists and the spaceship's shield and weapons that were truly valuable. Pilots and good pilots were practically useless. But even then, Antiope prefered the pilot seat of the gateship over the captain seat of the starship. She didn't mind being useless, being expendable, as long as she could fly.

"And there you are. Do you realize, I wonder, just what kind of message it sends to the crew when their captain just up and vanishes like that?"

Antiope just shook her head, not responding as she traced the controls with her fingers.

"I am not the captain," she said in the end, turning her head to pin her best friend and the head of security with her best death glare.

Malbea Dia was not phased. She sat down on the seat beside her and crossed her arms, giving her a glare in return.

"You have been the captain ever since your sister died. You were her first officer, don't you dare to pretend that you shouldn't have taken over after her death. The Hamazan and we all wouldn't be here otherwise. Your tactical skills saved us and everyone accepted you as a captain, so stop with that already," she snapped.

"It doesn't matter that you haven't been officially appointed by the council. We were in the middle of the war, there wasn't time for any of that bureaucratic nonsense. I know that it is not anything you would choose for yourself but that doesn't matter, because you are a good captain and we all recognize it."

Antiope let her gaze fall to the controls and then eyed her empty glass. She suddenly wished she had had enough sense to grab a whole bottle of the booze.

"How long till we reach Terra?" she asked not acknowledging anything that Malbea said.

"Hard to tell," she shrugged, her face relaxing. She was kind enough to let the whole thing go until she deemed it necessary to knock some sense into her friend again.

"There is still a possibility that the hyperdrive will malfunction and we will get stuck between two galaxies so I would say something between a couple of weeks and several billion years."

Antiope laughed then, raising her head to glance at her friend again. Malbea was smirking now. They have faced a certain death so many times now together that there was no longer anything to fear, she thought. Not that Antiope would just roll over and die. She was a soldier and she would fight till her final breath. That or she would ascend. She would probably be able to, not that she was keen on the idea. Maybe sometime it would become much more appealing. Yes, sometime after they reach Terra. Once she gets tired of flying, settles on the ground, marries someone, has kids with him and then gets tired of that too. Didn't seem likely.

She wondered, did her sister tried? In her last moments when there was no longer any other choice than death or ascension, did she tried to? Did she succeed? Probably not. She would let her know otherwise, right?

Antiope sighed loudly, raised her hand and pinched the bridge of her nose. It didn't really help her to think like that.

"She wouldn't like this," she muttered.

Malbea looked at her questioningly.

"Hippolyta," she specified. "She wouldn't like us running away like this. Abandoning all those people. She would want us to stay and fight. She would ignore the orders and the Hamazan would now be saving people instead of risking the trip between the galaxies. As she should. She should be in the front lines taking down the hiveships. If Hippolyta saw me now..." she trailed off, closing her eyes and heaving a sigh.

"We would die then," Malbea said unceremoniously.

"We might have saved some, but we would die at the end of the day. Or, well, at the end of the week. Who knows. One battleship won't do much good against dozens of hiveships."

She left her then with her thoughts. Bless her heart, she knew Antiope needed the alone time. Malbea wasn't much like hugs and sunshine but rather thorns and ice but that was exactly why Antiope like her as her friend. She wasn't that comfortable with hugs in the first place. Malbea was brutal and honest and would kick her in the shin for doing or thinking of doing something stupid and that was exactly what Antiope needed.

The worst-case scenario never occurred and the Hamazan reached Terra ina couple of weeks. Antiope, despite Malbea's strongly voiced opinions, was rather relieved to be replaced as a ship captain. She was offered the post of the first officer again and she happily accepted.

The Hamazan was suddenly no longer a warship but a big cargo ship, going back and forth between Terra and multiple outposts throughout the galaxy. And for a little while, Antiope was content. They didn't exactly need the ship since they had the Astria Portas.

They didn't really need any warships since there was no enemy to fight. Some thought they ought to destroy her and focus completely on the ascension. Some thought it wise to have at least one ship, just in case. The Hamazan was the only they had. All the other ships were abandoned, their crews coming to Terra through Atlantis' Astria Porta. Antiope thought it foolish to let them drift in the space just like that for the wraith to discover.

What if they study the weapons or the hyperdrive? What if they come after them in the search for the new lands to cull? Because they were sure to be interested in those new lives in this galaxy. Antiope felt like screaming her lungs out the first time she saw humans on Terra. Serving at the Hamazan, she had almost forgotten about them completely. Then again she wanted to scream when the councillor Juno waved her worries away with a bold statement that she couldn't care less about the wraith for they were all about to ascend anyway and what will happen to the people of this galaxy is not their problem. Malbea had to physically restrain her.

It was then that Antiope had about enough. The result of the war with wraith she was somehow able to stomach. The policy the council was advocating now was just too much. Ascend and screw everything else. It doesn't matter that there are people that need help. It is not our problem even though we are the ones that messed it up in the first place.

That evening Antiope found herself packing.

"You can't be serious!" Malbea yelled at her. "What do you think you are going to do? Where will you go?"

Antiope just shrugged. "I have the whole galaxy to explore."

Malbea yelled some more but for the first time, that kick in the shin from her was not working at all.

"You are going to regret it," Malbea hissed at her in the end and refused to say goodbye. It hurt, but she didn't falter.

She handed her resignation to the captain and asked for one of the gateships. She was denied the gateship. Pissed off she made her way to the human settlement on Terra closest to the Astria Porta. She could use it any time she wanted but she would have to walk there without the gateship. It was a rather brisk walk.

Once with the humans, she fought hard not to regret her choice as Malbea predicted. But it was, oh, so hard. The humans were just too primitive and it didn't seem there was any equality between men and women. It was the first time in her life that she was utterly thankful for her military upbringing. It took her no time at all to learn to use the primitive weapons, beat the crap out of few men and make a name for herself. She made herself at home in a small cottage very far away from the town and for a little while the life was just that kind of boring she needed. She didn't even mind living in primitive housing or hunting for herself or having to fight with a sword and bow and arrows when she needed to defend herself.

And then they came. It was three little girls at first, orphans, that begged her to teach them how to be warriors, how to defend themselves. She did not have the heart to turn her back to them. Then came the others, women and girls and she was suddenly happiest she had ever been. They build other houses, they build a community and she was happy to teach them the way of a soldier.

One day, in the moment of deep sentiment, she made few wooden letters of the human alphabet and hammered them over the door of her hut. 'HAMAZAN' it said. None of her new companions was familiar with the name of the ship that used to be her home so long time ago and no one asked what the sign meant.
The years went by and her community grew. New warriors were trained, females all of them, and the old ones found themselves husbands and made families. Antiope too fell in love and gave birth to a child. She had forgotten about the wraith and the war. She hadn't journeyed to the lantean outpost and the Porta once nor met another Lantean. But one day...

"Mother, quickly, come look outside, a strange bird flies over the village!" Hippolytus, her son, her sun and stars came running into the house.

Antiope as a lantean had a way longer lifespan than her human companions. Her first apprentices had been long gone as well as her husband. Her son was a grown man now with a family of his own and yet she looked no more than 10 years older than he was. True, her head had started to go grey one hair at a time and she could feel the age in her bones before the storm but she was still in her best lantean years. When told to move quickly she could move very quickly.

So she just walked out from her house just in time to get a glimpse of a gateship landing on the outskirts of the village. She could feel her breath quickening and her heart beating louder and soon she was running toward the little ship, sword in her hand because that was who she was now.

She was not the first at the gateship. Her sisters at arms had it surrounded when she got there, swords and arrows pointed at the man who stepped out. He was shocked to be surrounded, threatened by women, with primitive weapons nonetheless, Antiope could tell. No wonder, the Lanteans knew well that primitive cultures had little to no respect toward the female gender. To found oneself in a situation such this one must have been rather unusual. A culture shock, if you would.

"I come peacefully," the Lantean proclaimed. "I am looking for someone, a woman that was said to come here many years ago. She was called Antiope Areia. Perhaps you have heard of her?" he asked quite desperately.

"Perhaps we did," Antiope replied, walking through the warriors toward the man. Her sisters let her pass without so much as a glance, their focus on the strange man.

"Why do you seek her?" Antiope questioned him, sword poised at his throat now.

He was harmless, she knew. He had the presence of a scientist, an intellectual, one that was hardly capable of holding a gun right. To come face to face with someone with a sword... Antiope had to admit it was quite hilarious that her people, as advanced as they were, were pretty much helpless against a single primitive human with a sword all on their own.

"I need her help," he said simply, nervously glancing at the sword in her hand.

Antiope didn't hold any animosity toward the man so she just gestured to her sisters to lower their weapons and beckoned the stranger to follow her. She was a little bit curious about what he might have wanted from her. But she would rather question him in privacy.

The man was looking left and right as they made their way through the village and toward her old hut. Once they were in front of the building he stopped to look at the sign above the door. It was still there even after all those years but the letter 'H' had fallen down a long time ago so now it read 'AMAZAN'. Antiope never made herself repair it, especially since her sisters had started to use the name.

She cleared her throat and motioned him inside and then pushed him toward the table. She sat down, placing her sword on the table and after a moment of hesitation, the man sat as well.

"Well?" she asked. "I'm listening."

She watched with a hidden amusement as he put two and two together and smiled at her brightly.

"I'm glad I was able to find you, officer. I was worried that you would have been long gone by now."

Antiope propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward, giving him a cold stare.

"Not an officer anymore. No matter, who are you and what do you want?"

"Ah, yes, very well. My apologies," he nodded. "My name is Janus. It is very nice to meet you. I'm -uh- working on something -a project of mine- and I need a pilot, you see."

Antiope was surprised. She had heard of Janus, there wasn't a Lantean who had not, but had never met him before. She hadn't... quite pictured him looking like this. And moreover...

"A pilot?" she repeated, flabbergasted. "Whatever for? You don't need that much experience to pilot a gateship, which I had seen you are capable of just fine, and there aren't any spaceships aside from the Hamazan, at least to my knowledge."

Janus nodded again, his expression now all business. "Actually, the Hamazan is no more. Destroyed, I'm afraid. But I have a gateship, and I need someone experienced, someone very experienced for what I have in mind." He looked her dead in the eyes. "I need the best pilot there is."

After that, no matter what she asked, he refused to tell her more. She was just about to send him to where he came from despite her desire to fly again when he asked: "Don't you wish we could do more? Don't you want to give it one last try? Or, at least, give the people a chance to fight back?"

Antiope promptly shut her mouth, her words dying on her tongue. She watched him closely for a few minutes and then she asked, weakly: "To fight against whom?"

"The wraith," he answered and her perfect world shattered.

She didn't ask him more, she didn't really need to to know what she wanted to do. Soon she was packing with the same urgency as so many years ago but with a lot clearer goal in mind. She gave her son a pat on the shoulder as a goodbye. He gave her a hug. It was nice. She thought, as she was seating herself in the gateship, that her son was the only one in the two galaxies who could give nice hugs.

She flew the gateship to the Porta herself. It was amazing to fly again. She should have been probably sad for leaving her son and her sisters or anxious because of what was going to come next, but she was just joyful instead. She missed flying.

When they got to the Porta, Janus told her to land and that they were going to make the rest of the journey on foot. She didn't like this. After all, he did recruit her to be a pilot. But she wasn't difficult and did as he told her.

She didn't know the planet they went to. There were no lantean outposts so she had never been there before. The planet itself didn't seem to be all that interesting. The grass and trees anywhere you looked. And all the same boring green. But Janus started talking once they were there.

He spoke of a woman named Dr Elizabeth Weir who appeared in the final days of the Siege. A woman who came from the future, a descendant of the humans on Terra. He spoke of what she told him. About Terra-the Earth, the humans of the future, their war against the Goa'uld and their expedition to Atlantis and its quick and terrible end. He told her about the gateship with a time machine he designed, how the humans found it and how one of them, Major John Sheppard, was capable of operating it. He saved Elizabeth's life, though he himself did not survive.

Then Janus started fidgeting but continued his story. How the council forced him to quit his research. How he came up with a plan to save the Atlantis and the human expedition. How Elizabeth stayed behind alone in the drowned city, sacrificing her life so her people could have a second chance.

Antiope listened, mutely, and grew more pensive with every new word. When he was finished, they stayed in silence for a long moment.

"An admirable woman," Antiope spoke in the end. "But I do not see how we could possibly help her or this expedition."

It was then that Janus stopped walking, turning to her and giving her a radiant smile. Suddenly, in the place right in front of them, a gateship materialised. Or a timeship, if Janus was to be believed.

"I didn't quit my research," he said.

"I have a feeling that humans might be able to do what we could not. They might be the hope of the future. I do not know how yet, but I have a feeling that my device could be of great help to them. It had already been once before. I just need to properly test it now."

So they began. It was hard to tell the flow of time once you start ignoring it. Antiope had no idea how long they kept testing the timeship. How many times had they been there to observe the humans and the big events of the planet? How many times had they gone back to record it? It must have been many years, she thought when she looked into the mirror and found her hair all grey. And then they had seen them, in the future, the humans of the Earth.

A man with greying hair, another with glasses and a blonde woman. A Jaffa was with them and it was quite a shocking thing to see. It was utterly unexpected after what she had seen of the Jaffa and Goa'uld and it was then that she thought for the very first time that Janus might have been right.

And then they saw them fly the timeship. Not the one she and Janus came in, but the one that was left there for them, for those humans, and she knew that she was going to bet on them.

That was their last test. There was no need for more. Perhaps they needn't keep at it for so long, but they felt that they had to, that they needed some kind of proof. They had it now.

They still didn't know how humans would use the timeship. They didn't know whether it will really help them or that they won't do more harm than good with it. But neither of them doubted.

When they came back to their time, they left the ship where humans could find it. Janus then left. There was no goodbye, just a single nod between them. It was all said in that gesture. Antiope didn't leave. She sat down on the ground and thought about what she had seen.

She had hope. She believed in humans. But it just didn't feel like enough. Janus was going to keep working, that she knew. He was going to keep creating things, leaving them on the other planets for humans to find. But Antiope was no scientist. She couldn't help the humans of the future. She was going to die and nothing useful for the human race would come out of it.

With this in mind, she looked up at the sky, smiling at the stars. She was going to find a way. She was going to help them. The humans of Earth and the people under the wraith's terror. But she couldn't do it now.

She had already been on Terra. She had settled down on the ground. She had been married and she had birthed a son. And she had gotten tired of it all. But somehow, she still loved flying. She would probably never get tired of it. Hopefully, she would be able to fly again.

And with this in her heart, she embraced the ascension.

Chapter Text

Damn the wraith and those grenades of theirs. Good thing they didn't use them so often. What possessed them to use one of them inside their own ship she had no idea. Perhaps they didn't think that the ship would regenerate itself and it no longer mattered to them what would come next. Perhaps they thought that they are already all dead anyway. If that was the case, she hoped at least the parts that they needed for the Hamazan would all be in one piece.

"You are going to be alright," she told Hippolyta as she finished dressing the wound on her leg. The souvenir she got from the explosion.

"Sure," her sister nodded.

"We need to get you out of here," Antiope said.

"We need those parts first," Hippolyta reminded her.

"Of course, just tell me what to do," she agreed and walked to the control panels, fiddling with this and pocketing that as Hippolyta instructed her to.

Antiope kept twitching, her hands every now and then falling on the handle of her neutralizer pistol. Any moment now a wraith could walk in on them.

"Alright, the last one. Finish it and then go," Hippolyta said.

"Won't go without you," she shook her head stubbornly. "We need our captain, Hippolyta," she added and then pursed her lips.

"We need those parts more," Hippolyta countered.

Antiope ignored her. She was angry. Angry at her sister, angry at the wraith and her crew and most importantly angry at herself. The battle of the Hamazan with the wraith hive ship let to both of the vessels damaged and drifting in space. The Hamazan's systems were failing. They needed spare parts and the hive ship was the only place to get them. The solution was simple. Take a gateship, get aboard the hive ship, get the parts and get out. Of course, Hippolyta, the stubborn wench, refused to endanger anyone's life and decided to do it herself. It was the captain's duty, she reasoned. Antiope didn't want to leave her to do it alone so she went with her.

Good thing she did, there was no way Hippolyta could move around the ship with that leg. Then there was the sound of the steps and Antiope readied her pistol, firing at the wraith as soon as she saw one in the corridor. Hippolyta shouted something at her but Antiope pretty much ignored her.

"Got him, but just in the arm, I think. I must have scared him, he fell back. Probably thinks there is more of us. We have what we need, now we've gotta get out of here," Antiope said and pulled her sister on her feet, ignoring her groan of pain.

Supporting her, they made their way through the ship. She had already tried calling for a backup, but the Hamazan was not responding. Hippolyta didn't like this, but that wasn't Antiope's problem. She kept dragging her sister toward the hangar bay where their gateship was hidden, they were almost at the door. And then another wraith emerged.

Hippolyta yelled. Antiope fired. She got him. But one of her shots hit the door, damaging them. They were not getting to the gateship. Antiope cursed and dropped her sister on the ground, trying the radio again. But the Hamazan was still not responding.

Hippolyta pointed at the door. "We need to get there."

"No use, the door is damaged. It won't open," she shook her head.

But Hippolyta kept talking, pushing to get there. Antiope was getting annoyed a little now.

"The door won't open! We can't get to the gateship!" she snapped.

"You have to disconnect the power. I can show you how, but you have to take me in there," her sister kept insisting.

Something was wrong, Antiope thought. Well, of course. They were trapped on the hive ship, her sister injured and no help in sight. Everything was wrong. There were more wraiths now down the corridor, firing at them.

"Take me in there, now!" Hippolyta shouted at her, voice laced with panic.

Antiope hauled her to her feet then and helped her to the door. Her sister quickly pulled out a hand scanner and looked at the readings. Hippolyta muttered something and then pointed at the wall next to the door. "Reach in there. The largest cord - follow it with your hand until you reach the end."

Antiope looked at the wall in confusion. Hippolyta looked like she had just about enough. She grabbed her vest and pulled her closer to yell in her face. "Do it, Antiope! Then you can fly us out of here."

Antiope stared at her and then at the wall. Hippolyta pushed her toward it and she reached her hand out. It went smoothly right into the wall, her fingers feeling for the cord. She could hear the wraith behind them but she didn't turn. She did what her sister told her to do, grabbed the cord and pulled. She blinked in confusion, the cord in her hand, but everything else looked so much different. She dropped it and turned around, but there was no wraith there.

"Ronon," she told to him, confused, eyeing the gun aimed at her.

"Sheppard?" the man asked with the same kind of confusion, the gun not moving an inch.

And that just felt like a punch in the stomach. Sheppard, she repeated in her head. John Sheppard. She was - HE was John Sheppard.

"Hey buddy, you wanna lower your gun?" he asked, his eyes looking left and right, trying to orient himself. Something that was preferably done with no gun aimed at your head, thank you very much.

Ronon lowered his gun, uncertain with himself. John then turned to look behind him. The woman that was there was not the one he expected. He panicked for a little while, his gaze flying here and there in search of his sister.

"John?"

And here was another punch in his gut. Because John Sheppard did not have a sister.

"Teyla," he acknowledged her, not capable of looking at her face.

---

"You shot me!"

John was decided to ignore McKay's whining and focus on Elizabeth's voice.

"And none of you are experiencing any after-effects from this wraith device?" she asked.

John gritted his teeth and pushed any unwelcomed memories in the back of his mind. Why the hell was he the one who got the weird 'I was an ancient chick stuck on the wraith hive ship with her wounded sister' hallucination? He would almost prefer to hallucinate about Holland. Almost.

"Well, I mean, we're all pretty creeped out," he lied. He was pretty sure that there was something not right with his own head but was unwilling to voice it out loud until he sat down and thought about it. Instead, he added "But, we're gonna be fine." ignoring Beckett as well. He was so not in the mood for them now.

Elizabeth ended the radio transmission and John was already planning on venturing out into the woods so he could be alone for a little bit and properly freak out without an audience.

"You shot me!"

But maybe he could snap at McKay first.

"Yes, Rodney, I shot you, and I said I was sorry."

Here, maybe he would shut up now.

"You shot me, too," and that was Ronon and John had a sudden compulsion to shot him once more just for a good measure.

"I'm sorry for shooting everyone! Just... the Daedalus'll be here in a little while. Just get some rest," he told them and decided his presence was no longer needed so he turned his back on them and left.

He walked for a while and then found himself a nice mosy fallen trunk he could sit on. So he sat and he stared into the middle distance wondering what the fuck was all of that mess supposed to be. He was not alone for long. Soon he could hear the branches crackling under big feet.

"Hey."

John turned his head toward Ronon, his face a stone mask. Of course, it was Ronon that came to hunt him down. Everyone else was either unable to move or a medical doctor. For a moment, John was really glad that Teyla couldn't walk. She would make him talk about his feelings and what he saw. She had a front-row seat to his crazy delusion and she wouldn't leave him alone until he confided in her. Then he was ashamed by his thoughts.

He appreciated the fact that Ronon made an effort to be as loud as it was possible in approaching him. The big man could easily sneak on him, which wouldn't be a good idea. John was rather trigger-happy at the moment. No need to shoot his teammates a second time. Even if he was asking for it.

"You doing alright?" the Satedan asked, eyeing the colonel warily.

"Peachy," John smirked, though there was no joy in it.

The silence fell. An uncomfortable one. Ronon was not a man of many words and John didn't feel like talking at all.

"Sorry for that," he said in the end, motioning at Ronon's bandaged arm.

"I thought you were a wraith," he added lamely.

"I thought you were a wraith too," Ronon said.

"So... we are even," John said.

"Not really. I didn't shoot you," the Satedan smirked at him.

And, well, if John looked at his gun a little bit warily, could you really blame the guy? It was Ronon.

Another bout of silence and now the big guy looked uncomfortable.

"If you wanna talk about it..."

John interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "Nah, I just need to be alone for a bit. Tell Teyla I'm alright."

"Alright," Ronon said, looking quite relieved, and turned on his heel, walking away. It confirmed John's suspicions as to who sent him.

John watched him go and then went back to his original plans. First things first, let's gather the facts. He was hallucinating that he was Antiope Areia, an ancient woman, a first officer of an ancient warship named the Hamazan. The Hamazan was damaged in battle with a wraith ship and Antiope, together with her sister Hippolyta, also the ship's captain, infiltrated the hive ship to get parts that they could use to repair the Hamazan. Yeah, that sounded right.

How the hell did he know that? In his hallucination he-Antiope was dragging his-HER injured sister through the wraith ship, trying desperately to complete their mission and save themselves. The memories of that felt somehow wrong, incomplete. Probably because it was, in fact, Teyla he was trying to get to safety. John supposed he could ignore it, write it off as a sick wraith mind trick of no importance had it not been for those... not really memories, but those facts he shouldn't really know and weren't really related to that hallucination at all.

For example that Antiope served on a battleship called the Melanippa before she became the first officer of the Hamazan. She was 7 years younger than Hippolyta and grew up on the Atlantis without a father. She loved flying and her sister often wore a perfume with an extract from the saira flower, which smelled really nice. The Hippaforalkus, the ancient ship they named the Orion, was originally named after her great-grandfather and once when she was a teenager she stole a gateship so she could go and fly it underwater to observe a young flagisallus that swam close around the city.

John whimpered as an onslaught of memories washed over his mind once he called them forth. He could remember all those details of Antiope Areia's life and that was definitely NOT caused by the stupid wraith mind machine. He hid his face in his hands, fingers digging painfully into his forehead as he tried to push it all back. She didn't need to be distracted by the memory of her and Malbea celebrating Helia's promotion to captain and- NO!

"Snap out of it, John!" he yelled at himself and yanked at his hair, trying to ground himself.

Maybe it wasn't over yet. Maybe that thing was still on and grilling John's brain after all. He was going to go insane, shoot at his friends and then he was probably going to paint his nails pink or something. He could feel his lip curling in distaste at pink nails and suddenly he felt much much better.

Calming down a bit at the revelation that even as Antiope he would never paint his nails he decided to cut the freaking out stage short and review the benefits of a mental breakdown once he was going to get back to his quarters at Atlantis. To John's quarters, he had to specify, since Antiope had her own somewhere else. He was pleased to note that he didn't remember where.

Now to the thing that really interested him. The hallucination itself. Maybe it was not all real, most of it just his brain playing tricks with him, warping the reality around him. But, if all those new memories were true, then he believed that this might have been as well. Antiope and Hippolyta, two sisters on a hive ship, desperately trying to save themselves and the crew of their ship. What had happened to them?

He tried to call those memories forward. Maybe they would resurface like the others did when he focused on them. But they didn't. All of it was in some kind of mist fabricated by the machine. He couldn't discern what might have been real and what not. It was possible that somehow, he witnessed the end of two lantean women. Maybe the sisters died on that ship and who knows what happened then. Maybe Antiope's memories were somehow uploaded in that stuping thing in the cave a he was just a convenient receiver. Or maybe he had just really wild imagination and suffered some brain damage in the process.

John decided to go with the last scenario until he was proven otherwise. He returned back to his companions and eyed Becket warily. He should tell him something. But the good doctor looked to be ready to fall into the grave. He hovered over Lieutenant Kagan, scared of losing him. Again. He must have been through a hell of his own.

John decided to let it go for now. He wouldn't bother him unless he spontaneously got a period. Which he hoped he would not since it was all just in his head. He was going to wait for the Daedalus like a good little colonel and then he was going to look at the Atlantis' database and search for Antiope Areia and her sister. If he didn't find them, then he was going to admit he was crazy and march it right over to Heightmeyer. Here, that was a plan.

He didn't plan it through very well, he scolded himself when he sat down next to Teyla and she gave him that worried look. She was silent for a while and then asked, softly and delicately: "Colonel, may I ask who is Hippolyta?"

John pursed his lips and then looked at her cooly. "That is none of your business," he snapped.

Teyla recoiled and murmured a silent apology for upsetting him. That woman was a treasure and John didn't deserve her. If he wasn't going crazy, he might have even felt bad for being a jerk to her.

Chapter Text

John was avoiding his team. Well, to be precise he was avoiding Teyla and was just not in the mood for Rodney. Since Beckett had both of them on bed rest because of their injuries, it was not particularly hard or conspicuous. Teyla probably noticed the lack of visitations, but John was pretty sure Rodney was as oblivious as always.

The plan was to avoid Ronon as well, but it was never that easy with the big guy. Carson ordered him to rest and heal also, but Ronon was Ronon and the bullet wound in his arm was no biggie. Ronon dragged John for their usual morning runs and then they would spar, though they did take it easy, both of them. They barely spoke to each other, though that was a norm with Ronon. They hanged out less, but it wasn't like the Satedan minded. He also didn't treat John any different and John thought that he had probably put that all thing that happened on M1B-129 behind him. He envied that.

John? John couldn't stop thinking about it. He couldn't stop remembering. All of those memories that didn't belong to him were driving him crazy.

When they returned to Atlantis, he meant to check the database and go to Heightmeyer, but he chickened out and did neither. He didn't know what to tell the psychologist, didn't really want to tell her anything. And if he wanted to check the database he needed the help from someone who actually knew how to search and read it. He wanted to ask Elizabeth, then Radek and in the end, asked nobody. He just couldn't explain the reason why he wanted to search after what he wanted to search. And so the fate of the two sisters stayed a mystery to him.

His nights were spent with him lying on his bed, staring on the ceiling and either resisting the new memories or yielding to them. It proved to be practically impossible when he did try to coax certain pieces of information out. Most of the time it was an onslaught of random tidbits from Antiope's life, and none of it was of the time after the mission he hallucinated about.

John was very surprised to realize that he honestly wanted to know what had happened to Antiope's sister. Not only that, but he also needed to know. Somehow, it was of great importance to him. After many long nights of staring into the ceiling, he no longer doubted that it was real. That all of those memories were real. That the mission was real and so were Hippolyta's injuries. And after some time, he acknowledged that he cared deeply and wished that the Hamazan captain made it out alright. Not knowing was no longer an option.

He dragged himself out of the bed sometime after midnight the Lantean time and made his way to the first room where he knew he could find the terminal to access the database. It did not occur to him, that he didn't have anyone to search in it and translate for him. He automatically went for the console and started the search. The words, mysteriously, made a perfect sense. The database made a perfect sense. John didn't know why Rodney complained so much about how unorganized it all was. It seemed pretty user friendly to him. By the time he properly realized what he was doing, he didn't feel like freaking out about it at the moment. After all, he found them.

Captain Hippolyta Areia of the Hamazan battleship was dead.

That information hit him hard. He whined, tears welling in his eyes. He felt his heart clench in sorrow and suddenly, he could not breathe. His vision was hazy and the grief cut him like a sharp knife. He fought it for a little moment and then he let go. He sank onto his knees and wept.

Hippolyta was dead. Her big sister died. She didn't save her. She loved her so much, adored her, idolised her. There was a time when she thought that her sister could do anything. That she was invincible. That she was a magician. She was strong and smart and wise and kind. Antiope could never compare. She couldn't live without Hippolyta. She couldn't possibly be happy again.

John didn't fight it. He surrendered to Antiope. He grieved in her name, he grieved the same she would. Because she was real. Antiope Areia was real and it didn't matter that he had no idea why he had her memories, she was allowed to grieve the loss of her sister. They lived ten thousand years ago, neither of their deaths should be surprising at all but damn, it didn't feel that way! It was raw and painful and John mourned, he mourned like Antiope and then as John, because he felt like one. Maybe he shouldn't do it, admit that he felt like one being with Antiope Areia. But he didn't care, his sister was dead!

He felt like shooting something, his tears drying on his cheeks and sorrow replaced by anger. He must have been kneeling there, crying his heart out for a long time. He stood up and then punched the wall. Then again and again and then he shouted in despair, his knuckles red and bleeding. It hurt, but it was nothing in comparison with the pain of knowing.

He cursed the wraith, he cursed Hippolyta and then himself for being so incompetent. He didn't save Hippolyta. He failed her the same he failed Holland. What was the absolute worst was the fact he still couldn't remember. Not how she died and not how that mission really had gone.

Gasping for the breath one last time he turned back to the console to read more. To search for as many reports he could find. But there didn't seem to be much.

At the time the war was in the final stages. The Atlantis was readying for evacuation. The reports were missing. All that he could find was that Hippolyta sacrificed her life for the success of her mission. So her crew could live. So her sister could live. Antiope Areia took the command of the ship after her sister's death. There was no record of what happened to her or the Hamazan afterwards.

John pursed his lips and then began searching Antiope's records. He was as if possessed, thirstily reading any information he could find about her or her family. There wasn't much of truly personal information, but the facts were all there, the records of her service, the family records and it all matched. Every single little thing. His memories matched what he was reading. It was scary because he now knew he was not going crazy. It was all real and somehow, he knew it all.

He returned to bed an hour before he was supposed to get up, his eyes red with crying and the lack of sleep. He felt detached, spent and strangely empty. He collapsed on his bed and closed his eyes. Ronon would come knocking on his door in less than an hour but he couldn't bring himself to care. No way was he going running. He fumbled with his headset, radioed to whoever it was who was on duty at this hour and let them know he was taking a day off and to contact Ronon that he was cancelling their morning run. He knew that Ronon would not be happy and would chew him out for it. And he was pretty sure that someone (most likely Carson or Teyla) would later fuss about him, asking what was wrong that he took a whole day off. He couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.

He fumbled with his covers, exhausted as he was and closed his eyes hell-bent on sleeping it off. He could feel himself on the verge of sleep when another thing hit him and he sat up in alarm, eyes wide opened.

He could read Ancient. He closed his eyes again, calling forth a few words in the language. He understood them, he could read them and he could write them down if he wanted to. Not only that. He tried to say a few of them aloud, finding it completely natural. There was no hesitation in speaking random words and phrases, his pronunciation just perfect, the sense of the words as clear to him as if he was speaking English. It was rather scary.

It was one thing to have someone's memories. It was another to gain their abilities. John could speak Ancient now and he knew he could do much more. He could do whatever Antiope could. He just knew it, though he couldn't tell what exactly Antiope could do, what her abilities were. He just knew that if Antiope could do something, then he could too.

He lied down again but no longer felt like sleeping. He was regretting cancelling the run now. There was no way he was going to sleep now without blowing some steam. He contemplated hitting something again, but then his gaze fell down to his hand. It was a mess, raw knuckles and dried blood. Carson was going to kill him, he knew. He would kill him first, then fuss about him and then tell Elizabeth. And Elizabeth would question him and then order him to visit Heightmeyer. Just great.

Knowing it would do nothing good to delay it, he stood up and made his way to the infirmary. There weren't many people there at the hour. The beds were mostly empty. He could see Kagan sleeping in one and some scientist in the other but that was it. He knew from Ronon that Teyla and Rodney were released to their quarters, so at least that was something.

"Is there a problem Colonel?"

He spun around to face with a young doctor, who was apparently on duty. It took him a while to assign a name to her face, but then he smiled at her a little.

"If you could take a look at my hand, doctor Keller," he raised his injured hand so she could take a look.

She frowned at it and then look him in the eyes.

"Did something happen? You don't look very...well..." she trailed off and John snickered humorlessly.

"I look like shit, I know. Look doc just...just patch my hand up so I can go and sleep it off."

He thanked all the gods he knew off (and there was a lot of them in this galaxy) that it was Keller and not Beckett who he found in the infirmary. Keller just nodded, made him sit and did what he asked and patched him up. No questions asked. John wasn't sure whether she was just skittish around him, or didn't really think much of it. She was rather nervous around people, but maybe she just chalked the injury up as a way to deal with the stress of the Pegasus galaxy. Either way, he was glad she didn't ask.

"Do you want something to help you sleep?" she asked when she was done.

He opened his mouth to refuse but then changed his mind and nodded in response. Keller opened the cabinet and pulled out a bottle with sleeping pills. "No more than two," she instructed him.

She so thought that he was stressed. Hell, he was even allowed to be stressed and he wasn't going to argue. He took the pills, said his thanks and returned to his bed.

---

"What happened to your hand?"

John looked up from his breakfast and contemplated whether he should run away. He didn't really want to. For the first time since their last mission, he didn't feel like avoiding his teammates. He was even missing their company. The pills that Keller gave him worked like a miracle and he felt well-rested and strangely alright. The pain of losing Hippolyta was still there, but not so raw anymore. It felt as if he had many years to adjust, even though he was a complete mess just the day before.

"I punched a wall," he told truthfully and pulled his tray a little bit away from McKay. He and Ronon were dirty food thieves.

"Idiot," Rodney said and began stuffing his mouth.

John had to smile. "Glad to see you are feeling better," he said.

Rodney was behaving like any other day as if John hadn't been avoiding him all this time at all. He was probably right and the scientist really didn't notice. It would be so much Rodney that John just had to grin.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm all good now. Thank god that you are a crapy shot when you are hallucinating," he said, giving John an unhappy frown.

So he wasn't getting over that shooting incident anytime near soon. John's grin broadened.

"How is the Intergalactic Gate Bridge coming along?" he asked.

"Gwaad," Rodney replied, his mouth full of bread.

"I think we might be able to test it sometime in the next two weeks," he added after chewing and swallowing.

"Cool," John replied, grin still in place.

They felt silent until Rodney emptied over half of his tray.

"Heard you ditched Ronon yesterday."

John stiffened, but forced himself relax. "Yeah, I didn't feel like... I needed a break," he admitted.

"Teyla complained that you didn't visit us," Rodney continued.

John shrugged. "Thought I would let you guys rest a little."

Rodney nodded. "Sure, you would let us rest," he said sarcastically.

"Just say you needed some alone time. It's totally understandable. That thing on M1B-129 was fucked up. Just do me a favour and stop avoiding Teyla. I don't know what you had seen, but she is really worried about you. And a little bit hurt that you are avoiding her."

Well, John must have really fucked up with her if he was getting scolded by McKay.

"I will...talk to her," he said, gulping. "I just don't want to talk about all that," he motioned with his hand.

Rodney nodded, too familiar with Teyla's interrogation techniques and John's love of talking about feelings.

"What did you see?"

"I just said I don't want to talk about it," John snapped.

Rodney raised his hands in a pacifying gesture and let him be. It was basically the end of their conversation. Rodney proceeding to gulp down the rest of his breakfast and John decided to get on with his day.

A mission to a market on M2C-891 was scheduled that day and John managed to squeeze himself in. It wasn't that easy, he just told Elizabeth he needed to get out and she happily let him go. She didn't comment on his injured hand or the day off he took so he was sure she was babying him, but it was not in him to be mad at that. He did want to get out.

M2C-891 was a lovely planet with one of the biggest markets in the galaxies. They visited it monthly since most of their trading partners prefered to discuss the trade here. John wasn't really needed for the negotiations so he separated from the others the first chance he got to wander around. He would stop at various market stands and touch as many things he could. McKay's orders. Sometimes they found interesting ancient trinkets at the market, so every gene carrier was instructed by the scientist to try touching and activating anything that even remotely looked like advanced technology. John hadn't had much luck with it.

It seemed there were no ancient doohickeys this day. But he got to sample pegasus galaxy version of cookies, found a suspicious stand which he thought should have a huge pg-18 sign above and was gifted a pretty white flower by a little girl who he helped find her mother.

It was a good few hours for him. His radio buzzed, the others letting him know that it was time to head back to the gate just when he found the stand with cosmetics, perfumes and nice smelly soaps. He let the others know that he was on his way and turned to get going when a very familiar smell tickled his nose.

"Do you have something with the smell of saira flowers?" he asked the seller.

The older man smiled at him brightly and presented him with a bar of light blue soap. John leaned closer and inhaled. The smell was unmistakable.

John fought hard not to break down at that moment. Saira flowers were Hippolyta's favourites. She loved the smell and she often used products such those. It was Hippolyta's scent. The smell of her hugs. Tears welled up in his eyes but he pushed them back and cleared his throat.

"How many do you have of these?" he asked, not really thinking about what he was planning to do.

The seller showed him one full box of the blue bars. John looked at them longingly. He wanted them. He wanted that smell of his family long lost. He wanted that scent of his home because that was what Hippolyta was. Home. Her hugs smelled like home. It didn't matter that John Sheppard had never smelled the saira flowers before because Antiope was more than familiar with the scent and she wanted them. She desperately needed them.

But what to trade for them?

John didn't bring anything to trade with. Sure, if he managed to find an ancient tech he would want to get it, but in that case, he just had to contact the others, who were bound to have some things to trade.  After all, it would be for the scientist department. He didn't think he would want to get something personal. He didn't want to bug others because of it. But maybe...

He reached for his shades, presenting them to the seller. "Would you trade them for these?" He had spares back at home so it wouldn't be a loss for him.

The man took the sunglasses, putting them mirroring how he had seen John wear them. He moved his head from one side to the other and then looked up at the bright sky, smiling a little.

"All of the bars?" he asked.

"All of them," John nodded.

The seller looked quite pleased with that trade. He probably considered the sunglasses more valuable than the soaps. He gave John the box and then pulled out a little bottle with light blue liquid.

"The last of the perfumes with the extract from saira flower. As a gift for your wife," he winked at him.

John didn't feel like correcting him. He took the perfume and the box and stuffed them into his pack. His ears turned pink as he thought about how girly the soap and the perfume were. He had no idea what to do with them. He considered giving them to Elizabeth or Teyla, but it just felt deeply wrong for them to smell like his sister.

He decided to let the matter rest for now. The fact that he was thinking of Hippolyta as of his sister for a while now hadn't registered yet.

Chapter Text

John should probably stop planing his personal decisions. The reason for that was simple. He was too chicken to deal with anything personal which might or might not involve emotions.

He was meaning to apologize to Teyla. He even wanted to gift her the perfume he bought on M2C-891. But then he took a shower and used his new soap. After showering he spent fifteen minutes staring at the ocean through his window, his emotions in turmoil, and when he finally left his quarters to go find Teyla, the perfume stayed at the bottom of his drawer. He was not ready to part with it. He was not ready to talk with Teyla either. It took him several minutes of awkward silence to say a simple sorry and then Teyla, god bless her heart, just gave him a simple smile, nodded her head and dragged him to lunch.

The things were slowly coming back to normal. John kept taking the sleeping pills and using the scented soap and hoped that no one would ask him about it. And they didn't. Granted, no one would usually get to him close enough to be able to properly smell him. The only exception was the training with Ronon and Teyla, who was back on her legs and in the gym, but he was pretty sure that he stank of sweat and patheticness then. Ronon didn't seem to agree with the last one.

"You are getting better," he said one afternoon while John was writhing from the pain on the floor.

"You are a funny guy," John snapped back. He took Ronon's offered hand and let him pull him back to his feet.

"Not joking. Your moves are getting better. Different than they used to be, and you seem to be struggling a little with them, but it will get better," the Satedan grinned then. "Much better, I bet."

John still thought he was making fun of him. It didn't feel like he was getting better. If anything, it felt like he was getting worse. The moves that were once natural to him were suddenly all wrong. His reflexes felt weird and his balance was totally off. He spent even more of the time being tossed around by Teyla and Ronon, which he wouldn't have thought that it was possible before.

He, of course, knew what to blame for that. Or who, anyway. The years of his training, of his built reflexes, were suddenly being overwritten by Antiope's. Or, to be precise, Antiope's reflexes were trying to squeeze themselves into his. The problem was that where Antiope would duck, he would jump and where she would charge, he would stand back. It was a mess. Sometimes he found himself torn between two responses, which resulted in him being frozen into the spot or making an unnatural move, which resulted in him getting his head smashed into the ground. The fact that Antiope was of different stature and her reflexes and balance were all built around it just made the whole matter more complicated. Most of the time he just felt like uncoordinated newborn. It was frustrating.

He was still remembering and though the new emerging memories were no longer painfully cutting into his brain or punching him in the stomach and leaving him an emotional mess, they did leave him rather frustrated. There were gaps in Antiope's memories, gaps he couldn't fill no matter what he tried. He even resolved to meditation, which didn't help all that much. All that it resulted to was him realizing that even Antiope hated meditating. He gave up after the third time.

There wasn't really a good reason for him to try to remember the ancient woman's memories. He found out rather quickly that she didn't know any information that might prove to be useful to them. She was not a scientist, the few outposts she knew about they had already visited and they didn't have an ancient warship for him to tickle all of its useful systems Antiope knew the best. Still, the need to know, to remember, grew with every day. It was personal, John realized. He didn't need to know, but he wanted. He was trying to convince himself that it was because of the chance that somewhere in Antiope's memories might have been a clue to why he had them now.

Unfortunately, nothing seemed to refresh his memory at a quicker pace, not even the saira soap. The new memories actually came to him very slowly now, most of the time only when he focused real hard. And the memory of Hippolyta's death had not been among them yet. He tried to not to be visibly upset by that, especially since he had no one to complain about it and vent a little. Heightmeyer was still an option, but John found himself excuses why not to bother a shrink yet. Strangely, the number one reason why to not see the woman was not the ancient woman's memories but the girly soap.

---

Rodney McKay had always been a great distraction from one's problems. The trick was, John thought, that the scientist was capable through his many complaints persuade you that your problems were insignificant compared to his own. John revelled in this. The project of the intergalactic bridge was exactly what he needed. He was more than happy to volunteer for the test flight, which he would have done even if he didn't need a distraction, and spent most of his time discussing the test with Rodney.

Sadly, it didn't last. John felt like an idiot. Of course Rodney would want to observe and monitor the test. Which meant that week before that the doctor boarded the Daedalus and John was left alone without a distraction. Sure, there was Ronon and Teyla, but the only time they did manage to properly distract him was when his sorry ass had been handed to him. As far as distractions went, John had prefered Rodney's grumbling.

When the time of the test came, John had to resist the urge to run to the jumper bay. But he did catch himself skipping when he arrived at the bay, which earned him a funny look from Zelenka. The doctor didn't comment though, okayed the jumper and made himself scarce.

"The gate is dialled. The forwarding macro's been uploaded," John announced as he lowered the jumper into the gate room trying to hide his excitement.

"All right, John. You have a go," came Elizabeth's voice over the radio.

John hesitated just a second and then flew the jumper through the gate. It felt a little bit different than all of those times he had stepped through the gate, including the travel through an intergalactic wormhole. If he understood it correctly, it must have taken a bit more of the time than usual since he did not travel through a single gate. John tried to look around as much as it was possible, seeing the mid-way station for the first time. He spotted the hull of the Daedalus hovering above it but what drew his interest was the Milky Way galaxy behind the gate in front of him. It was beautiful.

"Colonel Sheppard, right on time. What's your status?" came Caldwell's voice.

"It felt a little weird, but everything seems to be in one piece," he answered. "Ready to proceed to the next phase. Uploading macro and initiating dialling sequence."

John dialled the gate and then waited for the go from Caldwell. Which did not come.

"Daedalus, ready to proceed," he tried again, frowning a little bit. What was the hold-up?

The go-ahead came a little bit after that and John was ready to do just so. Hopefully, the delay was not a bad omen. John took a deep breath and plunged through the milky way stargate.

The SGC gate room appeared around him and he had barely space to stop the jumper before colliding with a control room window. Which would be most unfortunate since it would mean running over the possibly only two generals he kind of liked.

---

The gate bridge worked perfectly. Of course, the voice at the back of John's head supplied. It sounded strangely similar to McKay. John tried not to think about it too much.

All in all, it actually seemed to be a quite boring test. That was until he returned to the mid-way and Calwell cancelled his flight back to the Atlantis.

John couldn't help but be quite shocked at the news. To his (and Antiope's) knowledge, there shouldn't be anyone in the Pegasus galaxy, past or present, capable of travelling at such speeds. Or, well, almost. .999 the speed of light. Certainly not Wraith, at least John hoped. Asurans might be capable of it, but it was highly improbable. They had a hyperdrive, after all. Ancients, well, they would be capable of that, but John did not dare to go there.

He hoped that trying to contact the ship would not prove to be a mistake. After all, it was highly suspicious that the ship, provided that it was a ship, was headed toward the Milky Way. The worst thing, he could pretty much do nothing but wait while the Daedalus crew ran the show. Even McKay was busy and couldn't entertain him. John deeply hated silently waiting, even more while aboard the Daedalus where he simply did not have a place among the crew.

"They're gonna fly by us in three…two…one…," McKay counted, his eyes glued to the screen. He just didn't have the same problems as John.

John had to make a double-take after McKay's announcement. Because it had to be wrong. There was just no way. It was impossible.

John fought hard not to take one deep shaky breath. He closed his hands into fists, willing his body to calm down, squashing that deep longing he knew was not from himself.

There was no way that there were Lanteans on the ship. Right? But relativity...

"Don't those ships have hyperdrives?" John asked, dazed, trying to find a reason why it couldn't be Lanteans.

And yes, Caldwell was right. An Aurora-class ship was not capable of such a feat but then...

"Maybe they have a ZPM," McKay theorized.

And John found himself saying that that would be worth finding out and what the hell, he didn't want to find out. He wanted to chicken out, leave and forget about it because he seriously didn't know what to do otherwise. Because what if the ship was really full of Lanteans?

The prospect would excite him about a month ago. But now? Now he had Antiope in his head. He wasn't even sure how he would react to other Lanteans. A tiny piece of him feared that Antiope's memories would once again overwhelm him, perhaps even destroying the John he was. And then there was a piece that longed for it to be true with such desperation that the colonel wanted to cry.

"Why don't we just ask them to slow down?" he asked McKay, half exasperated by the scientist, half by himself. It seemed there was not going to be any running from his side.

As it turned out, they didn't need to honk a horn at them, the ship started slowing down by itself.

"Maybe they heard me," John entertained himself, though he knew pretty well that no Lantean ship had such technology at its disposal.

Before any of them could make another move, a hologram of a woman appeared on the bridge. John took one look at her and had to brace himself on the nearest wall. A very fresh batch of memories assaulted him with such a force it lacked for days now.

The very same woman from the hologram but much younger, her hair longer and braided, cheeks tinted pink and a drunken smile on her lips. Next to her with a hand casually thrown around her shoulders another woman, short ginger hair and a more drunken expression than the blonde. They were both sitting on the floor of a gateship, nursing a glass with Keli moonshine and laughing together with Antiope, singing victory songs they learned from a little tribe called Navarii of the planet K'dor. After the third completely out of tune song, the ginger raised her glass. "To the captain Helia! May she not blow up her fancy new ship as she did the Miin outpost," she toasted while Antiope hiccuped from laughing hard and the blonde tried but failed to land a punch on her and ended up with the contents of her glass spilt on her white clothes.

John bit his lip hard, trying not to gasp. He blinked away the tears and watched with utter fascination as the hologram of captain Helia requested their help. It was Helia. Damn, she looked much older than in his memories but then again, after becoming a captain they didn't see each other all that much. Or at all. No, no, no. Antiope's memories. She and Antiope didn't see each other... damn it all, John! Get a grip!

"I don't think she can hear you," John said to McKay after he tried talking to the hologram, somehow willing himself to remain reacting in a way he normally would. Despite the inner turmoil in himself, he had to smile at the doctor's enthusiasm. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn't know of Antiope's memories.

A couple of hours before they could match velocities for transport...that should not only give McKay time for writing out a list of what he wanted to ask them, but also John for getting a grip on his own emotions.

The colonel hastily excused himself and left the bridge. No one paid him attention, everyone too excited with the Ancients. He took full advantage of it and wandered the ship for the next few hours, trying to gouge as much as he could about Helia from Antiope's memories.

They were friends, Helia and Antiope. And Malbea. The three of them served on Melanippa. Maybe she hadn't been as close to Antiope as Malbea was, but she was a good friend to her. A capable officer and leader, though that was just a front of the career woman. The one John remembered the most clearly was a kind and little bit shy young woman who would laugh with her friends and blush the most intense shade of red when they discussed the man she had a crush on. She was quite good at keeping those two sides of her separated, John remembered.

When he returned to the bridge the crew was already readying for the transportation of the delegation from the Tria. Again, no one paid him any attention, so he placed himself beside Caldwell and waited.

The delegation of 5 Lanteans was beamed on the bridge shortly after. John did not know any of them except the captain. His gaze was immediately glued to her. John could feel shivers run up and down his spine. This was it. He didn't know what exactly, but his blood was thrumming with anticipation.

Helia's gaze was sweeping up and down the bridge with the precision of a soldier and a ship captain. She assessed the construction in a few moments and then directed her attention to the crew members. John watched her as she looked at each of them one by one. His breath quickened when it was to be directed at him and he braced himself for...what, he did not know. A flicker of recognition? He expected Helia's gaze to stop at the sight of him, her eyebrows shooting up and the pupils growing large, perhaps even a surprised gasp escaping her lips. None of that happened. Helia's gaze slid off him and right to Caldwell, where it stayed.

John tried not to look disappointed and to pay attention to what was being said but he could not help but feel utterly dejected. Of course, Helia would not recognize him. He was not Antiope Areia, her friend, but John Sheppard. And John Sheppard had never met her before. He gave the Tria captain a nod and what he hoped was a friendly smile once the colonel introduced him and then redirected his attention to attempting to reel McKay in. The man was a babbling mess even more than usual. John was amused and exasperated both by the fact that the scientist truly did make a list full of questions (78, he counted). After five minutes he confiscated it, explaining succinctly to the man that the time for those kinds of questions will be later. First, they needed to find out what happened to the ship and figure out how they could assist her crew. The glare he received was one just on the terrifying side of murderous.

It seemed that aboard the Tria were only about a hundred of Lanteans, which meant that they all could be brought aboard the Daedalus. The negotiations had been quick what with the humans being eager to give a helping hand and the Lanteans eager to get rescued. Soon, all of the Lanteans were transported onboard and the Daedalus plunged into the hyperspace, the course set to Atlantis.

The crew did their best to make space for the Lanteans and the Tria crew had been rather quickly assigned quarters. McKay glued himself to a pair of Lantean scientists, dragging them to their quarters, though John suspected he would first give them a very detailed tour filled with many much more detailed questions. He did not feel the need to stop him since he got a vibe from the ancient men that they did not mind at all.

He himself offered to escort Helia to her new quarters, trying for casual, though his heart was beating frantically.

He made small talk with the captain on their way there. She talked to him pleasantly, but was a bit detached, her defence mechanism against the unknown people, he realized. He let her into her quarters and followed her in, closing the door.

"Thank you, colonel. I would like to rest now," the captain smiled at him and waited for him to leave.

He did not move. John stood there, hands in fists, fingers digging painfully into his palms as he thought of what to say. Helia's smile slowly disappeared, watching him now a bit warily. She opened her mouth to dismiss him once more and John panicked.

"I guess Malbea was wrong. Your ship did not encounter the same fate as the Miin outpost," he said and Helia's eyes widened in shock.

Her body posture rapidly changed and now she regarded him as a threat. John only then realized what exactly he had said and that he said it in perfectly fluent Ancient. He mentally kicked himself and raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"Ego... I mean I, I...uh..." he shook his head and looked at her rather desperately.

"I hoped you might be able to help me. If I could explain."

Helia raised her chin, the picture of a powerful and capable ship captain and then motioned her head. "Explain then."

John took a deep breath and then let it all out. He told her everything. About the wraith device and the hallucination, the memories and how he found out they were true. Even his frustration about not being able to recall all of them.

"I don't know why I'm remembering all of it, any of it. At first, I thought maybe it was that device but... now I'm not so sure. I... I guess it must have been that machine. It couldn't be anything else, really. I just..." John looked at her, searching her eyes for some kind of reaction. Helia was giving him a considerate look, her chin still held high but her posture a little bit more relaxed, her head tilted just a tiny bit left. She held his gaze and then motioned him toward a pair of chairs. She sat down and John followed her.

"You have been remembering things about me." It was not a question, but John had nodded nevertheless.

"We have been... I mean Antiope and you served together on Melanippa. You were friends. The two of you and Malbea."

Silence and more looking. And then...

"Do you think of Antiope as of yourself?"

A thousand dollar question, John thought bitterly. He gnawed at his lower lip, his gaze on the table between them, contemplating his answer. It shouldn't take him this long to answer. He shouldn't be even considering it. If anyone heard him it would mean a definite ticket to Heightmeyer. A long overdue visit, he supposed. But, when he once started he couldn't stop.

"Yes," he admitted, looking into Helia's eyes once again, trying to convey his sincerity and helplessness.

"I do, I... I feel..." John shook his head again, fishing for the right words.

"It hurt when I found out about Hippolyta's death. It feels frustrating not being able to remember something from her life as if it would not being able to recall something from mine. It's as if part of myself is missing. I... sometimes I can't discern which are mine and which are Antiope's memories. And there are times when I think of myself as Antiope. I think of Hippolyta as of my sister and then I remember that I do not have a sister, that she was Antiope's. The line between John Sheppard and Antiope Areia is growing thinner and thinner and I'm afraid that I... that, that..."

"That you will lose yourself?" Helia asked, her eyes full of sympathy now.

"Yes," John agreed, his voice quivering. "I don't think I... it was a rush the first time. All of those memories, it hurt like hell. Though, I think it was more of an emotional hurt. Now, it just feels right. Almost normal. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm not her. But... it is not like I'm losing John Sheppard, more like I'm adding Antiope into the mix. And most of the time the prospect doesn't even scare me anymore. But when I think about it more deeply, when I draw a wall between John and Antiope, then it's terrifying. I worry that I had gone crazy and didn't even realize it. I just need to know why. Why me? Why do I have her memories?"

A warm hand squeezed his own. It startled him. He didn't notice when Helia drew her chair closer to him or when she took his hand into hers. He took one more deep breath and squeezed her hand in return, giving her a thankful smile.

"I know it sounds crazy. I just hoped you might be able to provide some answers," he whispered.

Helia nodded. "I believe you. You seem sincere and frankly, you know things you shouldn't be able to unless you truly have Antiope's memories. You said there are some you can't remember?"

"Hippolyta's death. Few things from her youth. And then anything that was after Hippolyta's death."

They fell silent again, but it was not an awkward one. John tried to calm down a bit, using the breathing technique he learned from Teyla. Helia kept watching him, deep in thought, her thump gently massaging his knuckles.

In the end, it was the captain that broke the silence. "Perhaps the answer to your question is in the memories you cannot access. I'm afraid that I had not been in contact with Antiope long before her sister died. I cannot tell what might have caused this, especially if it was due to something that happened later on."

"I thought about that. And I tried, but I simply can't remember," the colonel admitted, shoulders slumped.

"I shall consult this with our healer," Helia said. "We have the means to cure a memory loss. Perhaps some will work for you as well," she smiled at him encouragingly.

"Thank you," the colonel breathed out, giving her hand one last thankful squeeze and then releasing his grip.

They both stood up and Helia motioned him toward the door. "I shall let you know when we figure something out," she promised him as he exited the room.

Chapter Text

John had never been more impatient in his life. And that's saying something since impatient seemed to be his default setting whenever he couldn't punch or shoot something, which happened very regularly since coming to Atlantis. Usually, he tended to cope with hounding and shouting at Rodney. Repeating his name with a wide range of tones worked pretty well. It also drove the scientist crazy, which never failed to raise his mood.

Now, snapping at Rodney would not help him at all. First of all, McKay could do nothing about it. Second of all, McKay didn't know anything and John wanted to keep it that way. He could be an impatient child and go bother Helia, but if he remembered correctly, she was much more likely to bite his head off after deeming him obnoxiously annoying. He did not want to risk awakening her wrath. At least for now. Antiope liked to aggravate her from time to time, he knew, and Helia would be exasperated but amused as well. But Antiope was her friend. John was a stranger. A stranger with her friend's memories, true, but a stranger all the same.

John barely slept after leaving Helia's quarters. In the morning (though there, in fact, was no such thing as a morning aboard a spaceship) he was even crankier since there was no way to go running on the overpopulated ship. He could go and use the gym, but it would not be the same without the big guy or his beloved athosian version of Xena.

He missed those guys.

In the end, he decided to hang out with the fellow pilots in the hangar and somehow managed to immerse himself into the discussion about the F-302s and the Goa'uld Gliders. After, he decided that if there is one thing he regretted about being assigned to the Pegasus instead of the Milkey Way then it was not getting his chance to fly one of those things. There was only one pilot who had flighted the glider - major Wesley - and though she prefered the 302s, piloting the glider was quite clearly an amazing experience to her. John was rather jealous. He didn't resist gloating about the jumpers which in turn made Wesley envious. She did not possess the gene and though she was already on Becket's list of volunteers for the gene therapy, it seemed to be a rather long wait.

He had lunch with Wesley and then he decided to go find McKay. It didn't take long. McKay and the two Lantean scientists were in engineering, McKay's mouth running a mile per second while the Lanteans listening to him in interest, responding to his questions or poking their fingers into the screen, discussing the data there. John could not help but think that the way the men were looking at his friend was quite similar to a way you would look at an excited puppy.

He did not dare to comment on it.

The three men didn't seem to notice his presence, so John leaned against the wall, crossed his arms and silently observed. He followed McKay's excited hand gestures for a little while before directing his gaze to the ancient men. They were both dressed in the usual white lantean uniform, one of them was bald and lean with sharp cheekbones and long fingers while the other had blond hair and did a rather good impression of an ancient tomato, John thought.

Colonel tried to place their faces but unlike with Helia, no memories emerged just from looking at them. In the end, John concluded that Antiope likely did not know them very well or more likely not at all. He soon stopped paying them attention, his gaze drawn by the light on the opposite wall. He let his thoughts get loose, mentally tracking the long lost corridors of the Hamazan.

Even though there were gaps in Antiope's memories, John found out he remembered the ship in all her details very well. Perhaps it was due to his brief visit to Aurora. He was just in the middle of mentally exploring the auxiliary control room when something hit him in the chin.
John opened his eyes wondering when did he close them and dropped his gaze to the ground where a marker was lying. He raised his gaze and locked it with McKay, who was staring at him intently.

"Did you just throw a marker at me?" John asked, his eyebrow raising.

"No, I mean yes, uh, I mean I called your name like three times but you weren't responding so I thought, uh, anyway," Rodney waved his hand and straightened his posture.

"Since it seems you have a lot of free time Colonel, won't you run to the mess hall and bring the three of us some lunch?"

John tilted his head and McKay shrank just a little bit under his glare. It was not that John had anything better to do or considered it a nuisance getting lunch for the scientist. It was the way Rodney just commanded him that had his hackles raised. Was he trying to show off in front of the scientists? Well, why deny him, it was not like he minded. Much.
"Sure. Doctor," he drawled and watched in some satisfaction as McKay swallowed nervously before he unstuck himself from the wall and aimed it back to the mess hall.

After a brief glance at the sandwiches and confirming that there was nothing in them that would kill his friend he grabbed three of them and turned to return to the engineering.

"Colonel Sheppard."

John came face to face with a smiling Helia. She held a tray filled with a bowl of salad and several different fruits. She nodded toward it, tilting her head in a question. "Would you mind to accompany me to lunch?"
John was about to apologize that he had already eaten when he noticed the pointed look she gave him. He knew that look. She didn't want to just have lunch with him.

"Of course," he nodded quickly.

Helia's smile broadened, but John noticed it didn't reach her eyes.

"Is it alright if we take it to my quarters? I must admit that thought of so many strangers watching me eat quite unnerves me," she asked and made a show of looking around the room and indeed, several heads turned away from them and toward their respective meals.

Once again John nodded and the two of them left the mess hall. John passed the sandwiches to the nearby soldier exiting the room as well, instructing him to deliver them to McKay. He then proceeded to follow Helia in silence, two steps behind her, his hands shaking with nervosity.

Once they arrived Helia stepped aside, silently asking John with her gaze to open the door for her. He did not hesitate to do just so and she awarded him with a thankful smile. She stepped inside and he followed her, stopping right in the doorway when he noticed another person already in the room.

It was a Lantean man of a sturdy stature with light brown hair and vibrant blue eyes. He was sitting at one of the chairs but stood up once they entered, his eyes immediately barring into John's.

John's breath caught in his lungs and a shiver ran down his spine. It was not like with the scientists in engineering. He knew this man. He recognized his face, but he couldn't place it. He couldn't remember. But he knew that the Lantean was important to Antiope.

"Well? I suppose you recognize him."

John tore his gaze away from the man and toward Helia. She placed her tray on the table and closed the door, but her attention remained on John.

He nodded. "I do. But I don't..." he licked his bottom lip and looked at him once more.

"Sorry, I know you were important to Antiope, I can feel it, but that's it. I can't even remember your name," he said, presuming that Helia told this man about his situation.

It seemed he was not wrong. The man inclined his head toward him, his face full of kindness. "My name is Solas. I'm a healer. The captain informed me of your situation. I believe I might be able to help."

Solas gestured to the table and John noticed a simple device similar to a life signs detector. "Okay," he drawled looking back at Solas. "How?"

"Please, sit down."

John made a move toward the chair but Solas stopped him by placing his hand on John's shoulder and gently pushing him toward the bed. John had to bite his lip and push down an onslaught of very confusing and dangerous thoughts he didn't have the time nor courage to examine. He plopped himself on the bed while Solas and Helia took the chairs. Helia took her bowl with salad and started to eat, obviously leaving everything else to the healer.

Solas took the device from the table and unplugged som sort of small disc from it, handing it to John.

"This is a therapeutic device we often use for treating patients with memory loss. We attach that disc to your temple and it will stimulate your neural activity," he explained as John studied the little disc.

"So I just put it on and it will help me to remember? Sounds easy enough," John shrugged.

"Not exactly," Solas pursed his lips.

"There is a reason why the memories are repressed. When one suffers a trauma it is only natural for them to subconsciously choose to forget it to protect themselves. In your case, I believe that the trauma we are talking about is the death of captain Hippolyta. The device does not only forces the memories to resurface, but it also creates a sort of a simulation which should help the person to overcome their phobias."
John made a face. He thought about it a little bit and Solas patiently watched him play with the little disc.

"It's not only the memory of her death that is missing, but also some other things. Some fragments from her past and everything that came after Hippolyta's death," he spoke after a little while.

Solas gave him a little smile. "I believe that the absence of the later events must be because of the trauma caused by her death. Concerning the other missing memories..." he paused and looked at John intently. "I believe you are unable to access them not because they had caused Antiope trauma, but because they did or would do so to you. Your brain is subconsciously trying to protect the identity of John Sheppard and those particular memories are a threat to your mental well-being. I believe that you recognizing Helia but not me is solid evidence of that."
Solas paused and John found himself starting to regret all this upon hearing his next words.

"I must caution you, the device had never been tested in the circumstances such as yours are. There is no way of selecting which memories you wish to revive. It should help you remember everything there is. As I said, it is a therapeutic device and as such, it should not pose a threat to the patient but help them deal with their problems. The issue is, you are John Sheppard, a male human. How it will help you deal with the traumas of Antiope, the female Lantean, I do not know. It might easily mentally scar you or worse."

"Great," John grimaced at the disc in his hand.

"You may choose not to undergo this treatment. It would be understandable," Solas placed his hand on John's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. John, not really comfortable with the touch, shook him off.

"No, I have to do it. I need to know or it will drive me crazy."
Solas studied him for a moment and then turned toward Helia. She had already finished her salad and was now studying the grape and the guango.

"You surely take this seriously," Solas frowned at her.

John had to make a double-take. Was that sarcasm?

"It's not like I can be of any help to you. And I am famished," she shrugged tasting the grape. This John was not really surprised about.

Solas sighed and then motioned for John to lie down. He took the disc from him and placed it at his temple, holding the device with the screen above it.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Like never before," John smirked, trying to hide his nervousness.

"This might sting a little," Solas warned him and with a swipe of his finger over the screen activated the device.

Solas was a filthy liar. The moment he activated it a pain like no other shot from the device into John's brain and he cried in agony. It lasted merely a moment but even that was too long in John's opinion.

"That," John gritted out, "was not a sting, nor a little!"

"My apologies," Solas looked at him guiltily.

"I will activate the device now."

He waited for John's affirmation and then swiped his finger over the screen again. And John fell into the darkness.

---

"This is hauntingly beautiful."

John turned toward Solas incredulously. "There are wraith hives in the orbit, bombarding our shield day and night. And it is hauntingly beautiful to you," he frowned.

Solas chuckled. "You must admit, it is quite an amazing view at night. And we have the best spot to observe," he motioned to the whole South-West Pier.

John looked around. "This is where I took Chaya on a picnic," he remembered.

"Now you will make me jealous. We had a picnic here first," Solas grinned at him and took a sip from his drink.

John stayed silent, watching the other man for a while. Then he shook his head. "You took Antiope here," he corrected him.

"Hmm," Solas grumbled, looking quite saddened. "Maybe another one," he said and John returned to the darkness.

---

"You should be resting."

John gave Thalestra a wide grin and proceed to ignore her, turning his attention to a young girl and fixing her grip on the bow and then her stance.

"If you strain too much, you might lose your daughter," Thalestra continued, shadowing her companion.

"What daughter?" John asked, confused.

Thalestra stepped in front of him and placed her hand above his stomach.

"I know you get restless easily. But, please, think of the health of your child," she pierced him with her glare.

"Sorry, but I have no children," John pushed her hand away, not daring to look down at the place where it had been.

"You will, soon. Please believe me, my sister, that I only wish what is best for you."

John stepped away from her. "You are not my sister."

"Not by blood, hmm," Thalestra tilted her head and then turned away to watch other girls and women train.

"This is too far for you. But you need to see it too," she decided and the darkness came back.

---

A baby cry. John opened his eyes and stumbled from his bed toward a crib, reaching in and taking his beautiful and very loud son out.

"I have a son," he murmured.

He bounced him and coed at him, trying to soothe him while his eyes darted around. When he got tired of the display of pelts and primitive weaponry, he returned his full attention once more to the child.

He stopped crying almost immediately.

"Hippolytus, my little star. How could I forget you? How could I abandon you? Some mother I am," he hissed and the baby dissolved in his arms.

A grown man stood now in front of him. "I understand, mother. I never held it against you," he smiled and enveloped him in a hug. It felt nice.

"We are finally getting somewhere." And John expected his vision turning dark.

---

"What happened in that hiveship?" John asked, glancing right toward  Hippolyta and then returning his attention to the jumper's controls.

Hippolyta's uniform was torn in some places, with blood and grime all over her. Her hair looked like a birdnest, her face was pale and an ugly wound was marring the side of her face.

"As if you don't remember," she scoffed.

"I don't."

"Liar," she rolled her eyes. "Well, what do you think happened? We weren't as sneaky as we wanted to be, got the parts we needed but got discovered. That green maniac  threw a grenade at us and everything had just gone downhill from there."

John took a long breath and gripped the controls even tighter. "You ordered me to leave you there," he said.

"And you didn't listen. As always," Hippolyta shook her head, a little smile playing on her lips. "So I had to take things into my own hands."
John was silent for a moment. When he spoke next, there was a rage in his tone of voice. "You tricked me. Persuaded me to leave you alone in that lab for a while. And then you barricaded yourself and decided to blow that ship up together with yourself." There was a bad taste in his mouth.

Hippolyta nodded somberly. "I'm just glad you were not enough of a lunatic to stay there and die with me."

"We could have escaped together," John argued.

"No, we couldn't. I was badly injured and I slowed you down. You don't want to hear this, I know, but I was already as good as dead. Your only chance of survival was to leave me there. I'm glad you did so. Not only because you saved our crew then. But because you are my little sister and it would destroy me to know that I was the cause of your death."

John stayed silent for a while. "I'm not your sister."

Hippolyta had the guts to giggle at him. "Don't be silly. Of course, you are. You are my favourite little sister in the entire world."

"Only because I'm your only sis-" John halted in his automatic response and glared at her.

"I'm John Sheppard," he stated.

"That is true," Hippolyta agreed.

"I'm Lieutenant Colonel of United States Air Force," he continued.

"Yes," she replied calmly.

"A military commander of the Atlantis expedition and the leader of AR - 1."

"Yes and yes, aren't you important, huh," she grinned.

"I'm not Antiope. I can't possibly be Antiope," he finished.

Hippolyta sighed. "Why can't you be both?"

The question threw him off guard. He dared to look at her just as she stood up and moved into his personal space, placing her hands on his cheeks and leaning her forehead against his in a similar way the Athosians do. John inhaled deeply. He could smell sweat and blood and grime which stank like something you could only find on the wraith ship. But despite all of that he could also smell her saira flower perfume, the sweet scent that was clearly Hippolyta and he almost melted.

"Wake up Antiope," she whispered, and dread pooled inside him.

"No!" he shouted and pushed her away.

She didn't seem fazed.

"There is nothing to be afraid of. I did say wake up, but that is not entirely accurate."

She circled him and hugged him from behind. He let her.

"Your life as John Sheppard was not a dream. You haven't been dreaming ever since you were born as him. You are and you will always be John. Nothing will change that. But you are still not completely awake," she paused and tightened her grip.

"Do you recall what it feels like to wake up? That very first second, when you are still somehow stuck outside of the world of wakefulness? When you for a little moment are unsure where you are or who you are? You are stuck in that very second. You have been stuck there for a very long time. But it's time to rise and shine! Don't you dare to turn on the other side and fall asleep again. You have a job to do, you hear me? You started it, so finish it properly. Ready now? Good. Wake up, John."

And John woke up.

Chapter Text

There were voices calling her. Antiope ignored them. She just stared at the ceiling feeling utterly exhausted. She desperately wanted to just close her eyes and sleep it all off. But she couldn't possibly do that. She had a few decisions to make that she felt were best to address right away if she wanted to maintain her sanity.

First of all, she was Antiope Areia. That was true and it felt right, though it shook her whole being. Being Antiope felt almost surreal. She could feel the first hint of panic.

Second of all, she was John Sheppard. The feeling of panic dissolved right after she confirmed it. She was John. It felt true and most importantly it felt right and natural. It was calming knowing that she didn't change. There were still some issues left, but right now, this felt like it was the most important one. She was John, she had been John for quite some time now and she had every intention of being John until... until the day she died she presumed. So, she is going to continue being John.

The third problem she decided to skip for she truly didn't care whether she was to identify herself as a human or a Lantean. She was John of Atlantis and that was enough for her.

Now there was one last problem to solve before she was ready to face the other two occupants of the room. She glanced to her side at the worried face of Solas and quickly returned her gaze to the ceiling. He was right. Of fucking course he was. He was smart like that. She both loved and detested that about him. A stray thought that he was just like Rodney crossed her mind. She pushed it forcefully away. That was a dangerous territory to go to for several reasons.

A hand was placed at her shoulder but she shook it, hissing a little "Wait a sec!"

She was protecting herself by deleting those few delicate memories and now she needed a moment to decide what to do with herself now that she remembered. She had no idea that it might be such a big problem for her when she had decided upon this course of action but now it caused big distress in her.

Logically she knew there was no reason to put a label on her gender. She didn't have to be a man nor a woman. Just John. But she really needed to label herself before going crazy.

She groaned and raised her hand to her face, shading her eyes from the light of the room.

"I'm such a bitch!" she cursed herself.

Again, a hand was placed on her shoulder, trying to shake her. John thought about bitting it but resolved to just slapping it away.

She could just go back to who she was for thousands of years. But she had already made her choice, didn't she? Her hand travelled to her chest. No breasts. That was, of course, what she expected. But she just had to make sure. A sight of relief escaped her and she had finally come to a conclusion. He was and he would always be John Sheppard.

Having those few things sorted he could finally face the two Lanteans.

They were both watching him with worried faces. First, he looked at Solas. John studied his face, noting the number of wrinkles caused by the constant stress of the position of the battleship's healer. He wasn't suited for such a job, he knew. Whatever possessed him to go serve on the fleet was a mystery. Especially since it was John's decision of joining the Lantean fleet that broke them up. Perhaps Solas was trying to catch up with him and to understand his feelings better that he chose to abandon his research in the safety of the city. No matter what, John didn't feel ready to poke in those feelings from long ago that the Lantean brought back to life. Definitely not right now.

Then he looked at Helia and he could feel the tears prickle his eyes. He managed to push them away with un undignified snort.

"Colonel Sheppard," she leaned closer toward him. "Are you alright?" she was looking at him with concern.

John managed to nod, wondering how he should explain. Where should he begin? He examined her face the same way he did Solas', noting all the wrinkles, the tense shoulders of the leader, the hard eyes of the warrior. She looked so worn down. So old. But she was not as old as John.

The weight of all those years fell on John's shoulders and it took his breath away. He felt utterly terrible. It was the first time he felt such a pressure of the age after becoming John. Now that he thought about it, it was millennia since the last time he felt his age. He felt like this when working with Janus. Being ascended, he felt strangely detached. Dear god was he glad that he came back. Never again, he swore to himself.

"Was the treatment successful? Do you have access to the rest of Antiope's memories?" Helia continued with her questions.

John's throat tightened with nervosity. He sat up, looking Helia in the eye.

"They are mine," he confessed. "It worked. It worked. I-I finally remember. I'm... God, Hel, I... it's me."

Helia watched him with a frown, tilting her head just so in a confusion. John could see the cogs in her head turning, turning, the calculations were running and suddenly, her expression changed. The frown disappeared and her eyebrows shot upwards, the shock and disbelief and just the hint of hope flashing in her eyes. Just the look he so craved to see on her face the first time her gaze fell upon him.

"No way, no way you are... Are you..." her voice wavered. "Antiope?" she asked, hopeful, her eyes glazing with tears.

John, his throat constricting and not trusting his voice at that moment, nodded again.

She lunged at him then and he found himself in a tight embrace. He could feel her body shake, though she didn't cry. She wouldn't in front of her subordinate. But she did squeeze him with all she got, clung to him so desperately. John tentatively raised his hands, but before he could return the hug, Helia pulled away.

"Forgive me. I know you aren't keen on physical contact. I just couldn't help mys-"

John didn't let her finish, pulling her right back in, hugging her fiercely. It wasn't like the hug from his son. Nor was it like that of his sister. But right at that moment, he needed it. He craved it. Helia's body shook again and John could feel her tears wetting his shoulder. Fleetingly, he noticed Solas had left the room.

---

They spent a long time like that, embracing each other. There was crying but just on Helia's side. There were a few moments where John's tears threatened to spill as well, but he managed to push them away in the end.

When both of them finally calmed down, they sat on the bed, hands in each other's and talked.

John told her about his sister, about the Hamazan and the journey back to Terra. He told her about how he left, about his human sister in arms. He told her briefly about his husband but found himself talk and talk with the dopiest grin on his face about his son.

"Hippolytus," Helia repeated his name, a little smile adorning her face as well.

"I named him after my sister," John said.

"I thought so," she chuckled. "Didn't she hate that name?"

John snorted. "Passionately."

They both laughed and giggled like teenage girls and for the first time in the last few weeks, everything was alright.

John talked and talked, about Hippolytus' first steps, his first teeth and words, about him growing up and her beautiful grandchildren he gave to her.

"You were really happy there," Helia squeezed her hands, smiling wistfully.

"Yes, I was," John agreed.

"I don't regret it. Not a single thing. I loved my life there. If I could, I would do it all again. If nothing else, my son was worth it," he closed his eyes, his head falling down a bit.

Helia, ever perceptive, noticed the little change in his look just before he closed his eyes.

"Antiope," her gentle hand reached up to his cheek. "What happened then?"

John looked at her again, his eyes full of sorrow. "I forgot. And I'm glad I did because I got everything I could wish for. But I forgot. I forgot about the wraith and about the war, I forgot about all of those people that we left at the mercy of the wraith. I feel ashamed of it," he admitted.

Helia circled her hands around him again, hugging him tightly.

"You were perfectly entitled to happiness. The war... it was not your fault. There was nothing you could do. You deserved to be happy," she sooted him.

The tears welled up in his eyes once more but just like the last time, he pushed them away.

"I thought I would live there for the rest of my life. For some time, I was perfectly content. And then he showed up. Janus," John continued.

Helia recognized his name, her eyes widening briefly and motioned for him to continue speaking.

So John did. He told her Janus' story about Elizabeth and the humans, about the experiments with the time-travelling device and about the first time he saw those humans, the SG - 1, for the first time.

"I just knew, Hel. I knew that they could pull it off. Living among them, I knew how amazing they are and seeing what they could become... but I just couldn't leave them on their own. So, I decided to ascend."

Helia tightened her grip on his hands, looking eager. "So you managed it? Oh, Antiope. This is starting to make sense to me. But I must admit, I'm rather surprised that you would willingly ascend," she grinned.

John did too, but then he frowned. "Helia, please don't call me that," he asked her.

"Call you what?"

"Antiope. It's just... I haven't been Antiope for such a long time. And I don't want to go back to the way I was. I changed and I love my new life. I am John Sheppard now. It's my new name, the new me so.." he didn't finish, but he didn't have to. Helia got it loud and clear.

"Forgive me, John. I shall remember that. Hopefully, I won't forget myself and call you Antiope again."

John gave her a grateful smile and continued his story. "I knew there was nothing I could do while ascended. The rules are strict and the Others wouldn't let me interfere. I must admit, I don't recall my time as an ascended as well as I would like to, but I don't think we can do anything about it. Ascension, all that knowledge, those memories... I don't think any physical being could really handle it. But I remember some of it.

I remember watching over my grandchildren and my greatgrandchildren and my great-greatgrandchildren. I was keeping my eye on them and all the generations that came next and I just knew that my time would come.

And then came Patrick Sheppard and his wife and their unborn child and I remembered the story Janus told me. I remembered that a certain major John Sheppard was a part of the Atlantis expedition Elizabeth led. I knew about their plan to save the expedition and so... I guess I just crossed my fingers and hoped for the best," he chuckled.

"You unascended and was born as John Shepard," Helia figured.

"But there was the catch. I knew nothing about his life. Heck, I had no idea whether John Sheppard of the original timeline was a version of me or not. If I were to be born as him and then make different decisions based on my memories and my knowledge, then I might ruin my chance to get to the Pegasus."

"You chose to forget. You hoped that without your memories to hinder you you would still make the exact same decisions as the original Sheppard. You didn't change at all. You had always been unafraid to gamble, even if the chance of the win was minimal," she shook her head.

John grinned. "It worked," he preened.

"What if it didn't? What if you had never got to the Pegasus? If you had never got your memories back? Did you even have a plan on getting your memories back?"

John shrugged. "Not really. I wasn't sure whether they could come back on their own or whether they would never return. Guess if they didn't, I would just happily live as John until my last day and never be bothered by the past me."

Helia shook her head. "You are a lunatic," she sighed and hugged him again. "I can't believe I have you back now. I missed you so much."

John smiled, getting content in her embrace. "I missed you too."

---

John and Helia had dinner together and then they returned to her quarters. They talked and hugged and Helia cried and John stayed the night. They spent most of the night just talking. About John's new life, about the old one and then reminiscing of their time together on the Melanippa. It was nice. John, of course, knew how it looked like, but he couldn't give a damn. But Rodney just had to poke his nose into it during the breakfast.

"What is it with you and the ancient women?" he asked prickly.

"What?" John looked at him, baffled, the spoon with the porridge forgotten in the air on the way to his mouth.

"You heard me, Kirk. People saw you yesterday evening going to the captain's quarters and no one saw you exit until this morning," the scientist frowned at him.

John sighed. "It's not how it looks like," he said but McKay ignored him.

"I mean, sure, she is pretty. But she is also an Ancient and the captain to top it off. Can you just stop for a goddamn minute and think about what kind of consequences this flirting of yours might have when you end it and she will walk away holding a grudge?" he continued. John regretted sitting down at his table to have the breakfast together.

"Nothing. Happened," he barked at him, stood up and left fuming.

---

John found that he really enjoyed the observation deck. He would just sit on the bench, watching the hyperspace and reminiscing. He was glad that he had those extra few days to do so.

"I was looking for you."

John turned his head toward the voice and found Solas. He swallowed nervously. He wasn't sure whether he was ready for this. Seemed like he didn't have a choice.

"Hey," he grinned at him weakly.

"May I join you?" Solas asked, his eyes sparkling with something like hope.

John scooted up on the bench, making a place for Solas. The ancient man sat down. It was too close to John for his comfort but he didn't move away.

"I take it you remember me now," Solas spoke.

John looked out of the window again and nodded mutely.

"All of it?" the man asked.

"All of it," John agreed.

He heard the shuddering breath Solas took.

"Helia told me what happened to you," he said and John shot him a look. "Be at ease. She only told me because I'm your healer and I needed to know about the result of your treatment. We could damage your brain. We told no one else. Helia didn't think you were ready for that yet."

John sighed in relief and gave him a short nod, saying nothing. It was true, he was not ready for people to know yet. No matter the people.

"I must say, I had a hard time processing this as well. I mean, I can't believe it. I had never thought I would meet you again. I feel so incredibly lucky," Solas beamed at him and then took John's hand into his own.

John blanched. He quickly pulled his hand toward himself, giving Solas a warning look.

"Forgive me, Antiope. I just couldn't control myself," he raised his hands in a placating gesture and gave him an apologetic look.

"It's Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard now," John corrected him.

"Of course, John," he assented and John shivered.

"I would prefer you to call me Sheppard or Colonel Sheppard," he said.

Solas frowned. "Why? We are closer than that."

John shook his head. "That was a long time ago. And I'm someone different now."

Solas was quiet for some time. Then he looked at him, his blue eyes shining with hurt and something tender. "I regret what happened between us. If I could take it back... I can't believe I had let you go. You were the best thing that happened to me. And now you came back. It almost feels like a miracle. I'm begging you, give me one more chance."

John gave out a shaking breath. This was difficult. He remembered very clearly what Solas meant for him once. Furthermore, he still meant something to him. John dated many people, both as John and as Antiope. The feelings would come and go, sometimes entirely, sometimes not as much. But the feeling you have for your first love would never go away, no matter what. Still, he couldn't do this now. Probably not ever.

"I'm sorry Solas, but I can't. I still have things I have to figure out. I can't do this now. Perhaps ever. Please, don't make this difficult for me," he almost pleaded.

A defeated look marred Solas' face. "I understand. I apologise for making you uncomfortable, Colonel." He stood up, not looking at John, and walked away.

John felt like shit.

---

He spent most of the rest of the journey with Helia, ignoring most of the whispers circulating through the ship. They just talked, nothing more, but John stayed a few more nights. It felt like a sleepover when they were kids again, though now John could amuse Helia with telling her about the kind of sleepovers the kids on the Earth tend to have. She was quite taken by the thought of the pillow fight, but John refused to indulge her. He was not a little girl, after all.

In the end, they had finally reached the Atlantis. The humans, as well as the Lanteans, were really excited. Helia chose four members of her crew that were to be together with herself beamed down to the Atlantis as first. They were supposed to be the delegation, meeting first with the expedition members and negotiate the next steps that they would take from there.

John and Rodney were beamed down to the Atlantis' gate room together with the delegation and were immediately greeted by Elizabeth, Ronon and Teyla. The excitement was evident on their faces. Well, perhaps except for Ronon. John was pretty sure the big guy was thinking about what he was going to eat for lunch.

"Dr Weir, Ronon, Teyla, this is Helia, captain of the Ancient ship  Tria,"  John introduced his friend with just a hint of pride and excitement himself.

Elizabeth looked ready to faint. "It's an honour to meet you," she bowed slightly.

"Thank you, and from what I'm told, you've done a remarkable job preserving our city," Helia gave her a smile. John told her quite a bit about Elizabeth and she got to like her pretty much.

"Well, we did what we could with what we had," the Atlantis leader said modestly.

"I need to speak to the leader of your people," the ancient woman suddenly demanded.

This gave John a pause. Helia knew pretty well that Elizabeth was in charge here.

"I'm in charge of the Atlantis expedition," she said as much.

John carefully watched Helia's face, frowning slightly upon her next words. "You misunderstand me, Dr Weir. I need to talk to the one who can speak for  all  the people of Earth."

Elizabeth looked quite baffled by this as well.

"That can certainly be arranged. But may I ask why?" she asked.

John suddenly knew what Helia was about to do as she gave a silent mental command to the city. A console rose from the ground, forcing Ronon to jump to the side. The Satedan had his gun in hand immediately, pointing at the device. John quickly raised his hand, motioning him to stand down. He looked at Helia, shocked by what she was about to do.

The ancient captain put her hand on the console and John could feel at the back of his head all of the systems in the city powering down. He glanced at the control room, where the flustered staff was trying to unsuccessfully get the systems back online.

Elizabeth demanded to know what happened. Helia regarded her calmly. "Thank you for all that you've done, Dr Weir, but your guardianship of this city is no longer necessary. The city is now under my control."

John couldn't believe his ears.

Chapter Text

"You should be in there."

John looked glumly at Rodney and then turned his gaze toward Elizabeth.

"I don't know what I could say at this point that could make a difference."

"You are right," John agreed with her. He knew pretty well that once Helia made up her mind, there was no way of changing it. He just wished he wouldn't feel so betrayed at the moment. "They want us out of here," he added, trying to hide his uncertainty whether he was included in 'us' as well.

"But why?" Rodney continued. "There may be a hundred or so of them? I mean, they could use us, they might even need us."

John fought with himself to not roll his eyes. He quickly reminded himself that this was Rodney and that not everyone had the same opportunity to look at it from both sides.

"What if you were forced from your home by war, only to return to find someone on your couch, eating your Cheetos, watching your TV?"

John narrowed his eyes on his friend, daring him to deny it.

"I'd be fine with that," Rodney said, squirming uncomfortably.

"No, you wouldn't."

For a fleeting moment, he considered adding something to it, but the arrival of O'Neill and Woolsey put it on hold.

John didn't expect them to deliver happy news. And happy news delivered they didn't. The expedition had forty-eight hours to vacate the city.

"What? That's it? We're just gonna take this lying down? We rescued them!" Rodney was furious and John was quite alright with letting him rant.

"We should've left them out there," John muttered under his breath, partly because he was pissed off as well, partly to appease Rodney who seemed to be even more agitated over the fact that no one looked to be as mad about it like him.

Funnily enough, it kind of worked in appeasing his friend.

"Colonel," the general looked at him, "I'd like you to supervise the withdrawal."

And here was something he could focus on. For better or worse.

---

"John."

John looked up from his clipboard and toward the owner of the voice. There was no need to visually check, he just wanted to give Helia a really mean look.

"That's all," he dismissed the soldier in charge of the armoury and turned his back to the woman, power walking away. Helia, of course, followed him, just a step away.

"John," she called him again, thought a bit quieter.

"If you would excuse me, captain Helia, I have a lot of things on my plate right now," he gritted his teeth and ignored the curious looks the two of them got from the passersby. There was a warning undertone in his voice and he hoped that Helia would heed the warning in it. As could be expected, she completely dismissed it.

"I need to talk to you." Her hand shot up and caught his arm, pulling him to a stop.

"Please," she looked at him pleadingly and it was not an expression of the Lantean captain. It was that of his old friend. How could he shake her off and stormed out now?

"Let's go somewhere private," he sighed and dragged her into an empty storage room, too conscious about the picture the eyewitnesses had been painting about them.

They both stood there in the middle of the room for a few moments. Then Helia took a deep breath and open her mouth. And John just couldn't let her.

"How could you?!" he snarled.

"We save you and we bring you home, which we risked our lives to keep whole, scratch that, we LOST a lot of lives to protect it and you are just gonna kick us out? Just like that? No warning, no nothing?!"

John was seething. He managed to hold it together for the last few hours but there was no need for a mask right now. There, in the empty room where it was just him and Helia, he could finally let go.

His friend looked at him guiltily, though John doubted she felt guilty about kicking the humans out. It was more likely just regretting making  him  hurt, which only infuriated him more.

"Us?" she asked calmly. "John, no one forces you to leave."

John looked at her as if she had just told him that the Wraith were cuddly overgrown puppies.

"I'm in the military," he said, dumbfounded.

"Yes," Helia nodded, clearly not getting it.

"US Air Force," he continued.

She nodded again.

"Like, human military."

She looked more confused by every second.

"I feel like there is a point you want to make."

John had to take a deep breath. He had totally forgotten how infuriating Helia could have been. The excitement of meeting her again had completely worn off at this point and John had remembered all of the other little things about her that had always driven him crazy. Dismissing the issues of the - in her eyes - primitive species was definitely one of them.

"You are kicking the humans out. I'm a human, Hel!" he threw up his hands, seriously thinking about smacking some sense into her.

It seemed the realization had already dawned on her.

"John!" she beloved. "You are a Lantean. This is your home. No one forces you to leave."

"Except for the US military. I'm a soldier, Hel. This is my assignment. I can't just... just stay. I would be a deserter."

She stayed quiet after that. After a while, she gave him an inquiring look.

"There is no need for you to adhere to human laws now. You are with your own," she tried.

"The humans are my own. I told you, Helia, I'm really happy that I found you, but I'm an officer of the US Air Force. I don't want that to change. It's my life."

Helia looked uncertain now. She dropped her head and clasped her hands together. John couldn't look at her at that moment. He turned his back toward her and paced the room, waiting for his friend to speak up.

It took a while.

"If you explained your situation..." she started.

"No, no, no, no, no, no. I don't want... I'm not prepared for anyone to know."

Helia looked at him with hurt in her eyes.

"You don't want to tell our people?"

John stopped and gave her a careful look.

"I do. I really do. Just... I need some time. And I definitely don't want  my  people to know right now," he tried to placate her.

"Alright," she nodded. "I understand." John was pretty sure that she did not, but he decided he would let sleeping Iratus bugs lie.

"I agreed with your General and Mr Woolsey to let one of the humans here at Atlantis as an ambassador of the Terrans. I'm sure if I were to insist, they would select you."

This surprised him. John's first instinct was to jump at the opportunity. Thankfully, he was not as fast to 'jump' as some people had been.

"No, you can't do that. I'm a soldier, not a diplomat. I can't be the Earth liaison," he declined.

Helia sighed. "Yes, you are right. We can't jeopardise the relationship between us and Terrans."

She tapped her fingers lightly on the back of her other hand, head lowered, deep in thought.

"The Wraith and the Asurans, the Genii too... there is a lot of conflict in this galaxy and we lack the necessary intel. It is without a doubt that we could use some help there. Like, let's say, an expedition's former military commander. I'm sure General O'Neill won't have an issue once I insist on it."

John perked up. That would be good. That might be his chance to stay. But then...

"I stay and my friends leave. You just don't get it, do you? Atlantis is their home too," he shook his head.

"We just need a while. John, please, understand that..."

"I know," he interrupted her. "I know, Hel. You are forgetting, I see this from both sides. That's why it's hard if you make me choose."

Helia stepped toward him, making a move to grab his hands, but John evaded her. "Give me a time to think it through," he asked her.

She sighed once more. "Of course. Though I'm afraid you only have about forty-five hours."

---

John planned to pack his things as soon as possible so he could focus on the withdrawal. The thing was, after the talk with Helia, he couldn't. So he proceeded to stalk the city's hallways with the clipboard in his hand, checking on the progress. That just made everything worse.

Leaving Atlantis would have already been hard enough. Possibly staying while everyone else was leaving? That was quite a guilt trip.

The problem was that over the years the members of the expedition managed to create a well-oiled machine. John didn't have much to do once he had made a few rounds. After all, he did have to let everyone to do their share. Not wanting to be that asshole of a boss and look everyone over the shoulder he decided to park it outside of Radek's lab. The reason was quite simple. He was one of those scientists who preferred to bitch in a language John did not understand. John would rather be left confused than guilty and sympathetic.

"Ježiši Marja, no to si ze mě děláte srandu. No tak tohle ne! Ty vole, tohleto tedy ne. Copak si myslíte že jsem? Česky mluvící opička? Mám vám to jako okořenit tuhletu frašku? A proč asi? Aby jste zmátli pár Američanů, co si tohle hodí do google překladače a budou na to pitomě čumět co to ten Čech zatraceně tlachá? No zapomeňte na to, já vám tady žádnou lámavou češtinou mluvit nebudu. Co si to o sobě myslíte? Mě tedy žádný Slovák rodnou řeč kazit nebude. To vám nestačí ti Američané? Nebo hůř, Francouzi? Že prý 'to smrdí'... no to tedy fakt smrdí! Vždyť to je uplně nahovno tohleto!"

Zelenka's voice was loud enough that John could easily hear him outside the lab through the closed door. It was quite soothing. He stayed there a few minutes and then decided to abandon his post. Even though he could not understand him, John still got a vague sense of what Radek was cursing about. Or at least he thought so.

---

"Well, we are way ahead of schedule. Ready to head out at 0800. Daedalus is gonna take most of the gear. People and their odds and ends will make their way through the Stargate thanks to the Ancients' new ZPM," John reported to Elizabeth.

"Good...I guess," she said. "You're taking this rather well."

John paused, looked at her guiltily.

"John? What's the matter?" Elizabeth asked, concerned.

"I'm staying."

She looked at him, surprised. "John, I know this all is very..."

"No, you don't understand," he interrupted her.

"Helia wants someone who could help her navigate the situation in the Pegasus. A military aid. She asked me. If I accept, she will go and talk to O'Neill about it. I'm thinking about saying yes," he confided.

"Oh," Elizabeth heaved in surprise, tearing her gaze from him and toward her boxes.

John's heart sunk. He knew that the IOA had already appointed Woolsey as the liaison, the job Elizabeth wanted herself. John had a feeling that from all of the expedition members, it had been hardest on Elizabeth herself. But she would find about him staying sooner or later and John wanted to tell her himself.

"I'm sorry," he apologised though he was not sure what for. Perhaps for not being completely honest with her.

"No, it's alright. I'm happy for you. You and Atlantis... you belong here," she gave him a weak smile.

"You belong here too," he muttered, wounded by the pain in her eyes himself.

---

John looked from the control room at the personnel departing, trying to ignore McKay who spoke to Helia not a three meters away.

"Grounding station on the south pier's a bit twitchy. It got shot up. Wasn't our fault. You need to look at that," Rodney was saying.

"I'm sure we'll find our way, Doctor," the Lantean tried to placate him, or to get rid of him sooner. John wasn't sure.

"No, I'm sure you will, but um..."

"I'm sure we will be alright," John spoke over him, earning himself a glare from the scientist.

Rodney took the news of John staying a little bit more childishly unlike the rest of John's friends.

"Yeah, sure. Well, I guess I... I gotta go," he turned his back toward the gate and headed down the stairs toward it.

"Rodney, wait."

John just couldn't let him go like this, mad at him for something Rodney himself would do without hesitation. But no, John wouldn't spit it into his face. He would be a bigger person.

"I'll see you," he said, a lump clogging his throat.

John tried to tell him how sorry he was that Rodney couldn't stay. How sorry he was that he wouldn't or couldn't go with them back. How he would miss him, how he would miss all of them. He couldn't.

Rodney gave him a nod and then joined the others at the gate. They exchanged their goodbyes and then the Terrans stepped through the gate. Elizabeth was the last to go through. She paused just a step before walking through the gate and looked back. She scanned the control room with her eyes and then her gaze landed on John. Their eyes locked for a long moment and then she was gone.

---

Teyla and Ronon were the last one to leave. Knowing they would be just a gate trip away made the goodbye a lot less emotional to John, though he did not allow himself to get emotional even saying goodbye to the fellow earthlings.

John and Ronon patted each other's backs and he and Teyla touched their foreheads, sharing an athosian farewell. Then, the two of them were gone as well. It was just John and Richard Woolsey. John was not sure how to interact with the man, especially not now. He did give him a quick tour around the tower to jog his memory about what was there and then he headed to his own quarters. He could not handle the Atlantis full of Lanteans right now. It was just too strange after being part of the expedition.

He sat down on his bed, guitar in his hands and he just sat there, no playing, just gently plugging the strings in deep contemplation.

His door chimed.

He placed his guitar on the bed and went to open.

"Hello, John," Helia smiled at him.

John returned her smile and motioned her inside.

"I just wanted to check on you," she said, looking around his room, stalking slowly toward his bed.

"Are you alright?" she questioned.

"I will be," he shrugged. "I guess this might be good for me. You know, get reacquainted with everyone. Discreetly, of course. Can't allow to out myself in front of Woolsey."

Helia noded. "Does it mean that you will confide in the others? I'm sure everyone will be ecstatic to have you back. I mean, I doubt you knew everyone from my crew but there are some I know you did. You remember Taran?"

John chuckled. "Yeah, I remember him. And I will tell them. I... do miss the good old times. Or not all of them good, just mostly old," he sighed. "Just not ready yet."

Helia smiled at him and sat down on his bed. "May I ask you a favour?"

John nodded. "Anything."

She motioned toward John's guitar. "I'm really curious about the Terran's music."

John grinned and sat down next to her, taking the guitar. In the end, she ended up enjoying his CD collection more than his playing.

Chapter Text

"You seem to be doing fine," Helia observed one morning.

It had been a few weeks since the expedition left the Atlantis. John and Helia got used to having breakfast and dinner together every day, either in John’s quarters or Helia’s. It was difficult to find the time during the day just to chat with Helia when now she had the whole city to care for. And there was a lot of things to get in order, some of them even caused by the expedition. She would rant about it to John and he found himself being yelled at by her for a few things they royally messed up more than once. Sometimes he would be quiet and just take it, feeling like he deserved it. Sometimes he would snap back. They did what they could.

That morning was one of the peaceful ones. They were in Helia’s quarters, eating fruits, eggs and drinking the last of the coffee the expedition left behind. They spent the time in silence until Helia spoke.

John raised an eyebrow at her, sipping his coffee.

"Why wouldn’t I be doing fine?" he questioned.

Helia grinned at him. „Don’t think I can’t tell when you are bored out of your mind. You have no duties, no one to command, no missions to go to. You refused to join our new council, your only job now being briefing us on the state of the inhabited planets, the situation with the Wraiths and your expedition’s exploits up until now. And I think we more or less covered everything days ago. You have nothing to do so you are restless. But you seem to be doing alright today which begs a question. Did you find something to occupy your free time?“

John chuckled. She was right, of course, on every account. He was sad and felt guilty the first few days, then he was busy bringing Helia up to date with the recent developments in the galaxy and that was followed by the brief time of contentment which was quickly followed by boredom. As the head of the military, he was busy with, well, running the military operations. The briefings, the mission, the security and the trainings. Now he would go on his usual morning runs but without Ronon which reduced his runs to few unsatisfying laps around the tower followed by half an hour of staring into the middle distance before meeting Helia for breakfast. After that, it was boredom the whole day until the dinner. He could go and try to mingle with the other Ancients or go and talk to Woolsey (which he wouldn’t do willingly but it was still one of the options) but it didn’t change the fact that he was practically jobless. Thankfully, the last couple of days he found a decent activity to entertain himself. And Helia just had to notice right away.

"A few days back Taran came to me, asking me whether I would be willing to train with him. Teach him some Terran and other martial techniques. It’s fun," John shrugged.

Taran was the head of the security and coincidentally someone Antiope used to serve with. John didn’t tell him who he really was but was tempted to. He had his time to get used to the others and now the desire to tell them the truth burned his tongue. Moreso when he caught their stares. The stares that clearly said he did not belong among them. No one said it aloud but no one had to. John understood pretty well. Mind you, not everyone was giving him such sour looks, but it still hurt. Those were supposed to be his people too. The feeling of not belonging with them hurt.

Taran never looked at him like that though. On the contrary, he looked at him with something which John was hesitant to interpret as respect. Taran was a giant of a man. Not as big as Ronon, but a behemoth by the Lantean standards. He had the heart of a teddy bear but a passion for the more primitive martial arts. By Lantean standards, he was a pro. John would still wipe the floor with him.

Never once did John defeat Ronon or Teyla in a serious match, but Taran was not anywhere near their level. He had great potential as a fighter but a lot to learn. And fighting was not something that the Lanteans were taught. So John let himself be convinced to teach Taran whatever he knew. And he gained the man’s respect. He would even say that the two of them became friends. Antiope had considered him a friend once, but John was very happy to befriend him as John Sheppard too. If he was to go and expand the little circle of the people that knew about him, Taran was his first choice.

Helia graced John with one of her jubilant smiles. "I’m glad you are getting reacquainted with the others. I know it must be difficult for you."

John gave her another shrug and chugged the rest of his coffee. "I have no idea what I will do once this runs out," he pressed his lips looking at the empty cup of coffee.

"I will ask General Landry to send some more with General O'Neill," Helia said which got her a very confused look from John.

"O'Neill is coming here?"

Helia gave him a sheepish smile. "I requested it. Mr Woolsey is giving me a headache."

John couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. "I was wondering how long that would last." His comment was not well received by the ancient woman.

---

"Bend the knees a little bit. Yes, that’s it!" John encouraged his apprentice, parrying his attack easily with his Bantos rod.

Since he started training with Taran, he got better himself. He had no idea whether it was the previous beatings from Ronon, enthusiasm to train again or the return of his memories but he found it much more simple to combine his current and previous fighting style. He no longer felt like fighting between two totally different reflex responses, his movements smooth and refine as if he was back between his sisters in arms, wielding a sword and leading the brave Amazons. He even thought he could kick Ronon’s ass now.

"Left, left!" he cried, fastening the tempo, leading Taran through the dance of Bantos rods. "Excellent! Keep it up!"

Suddenly, the big man stiffened, not reacting when in one swoop John unarmed him, snaked one of his legs behind his and brought him to his knees.

"What was that now?" John frowned at the Lantean disapprovingly.

"Forgive me, you surprised me. I did not know you spoke our tongue," Taran replied him in Ancient and John mentally kicked himself. Truth be told, it happened to him more often now, speaking in the Ancient. The fact that Helia refused to alert him when that happens and even tried to inconspicuously encourage him to speak it more often was not helping.

"Oh, yes, I do," John admitted since the cat was already out of the bag. No reason to deny it.

To his displeasure, that little incident during training meant that Taran decided to switch to the Ancient permanently from then on when speaking to John. With that change, John came to a realisation one day that he spoke more Ancient than English nowadays. He was seriously tempted to seek out Woolsey’s company. He was partly glad and partly terrified of O’neill arriving in a few days. What if he will accidentally start speaking in Ancient in front of the General? He couldn’t let that happen.

The day before the General was to arrive he was venting his frustration on Taran when their training was interrupted.

"I apologise for the intrusion."

John stopped in his attack and turned toward the intruder, mentally cursing his lack.

Solas gave both of them a brief smile and then turned toward Taran. "The council is meeting. Commander Helia requested your presence. I believe there are some things to be handled before the arrival of the General."

Taran gave a nod in understanding and turned toward John, apologising to him for cutting the training short. They gave each other a brief goodbye and the head of the security departed. John started to clean up the gym, stopping in his tracks when he noticed Solas didn’t move from his spot.

"Need something from me?" he asked the Lantean suspiciously.

"I would like to invite you to have dinner with me."

John did a double-take. After their conversation on the Daedalus, he hadn’t spoken with him at all. It even seemed that Solas was avoiding him, which was fine in John’s book. This, he didn’t predict.

"Sorry, but I already have plans with Helia tonight," he said.

Solas gave him a brief smile. "No, you do not. Helia is occupied with the council meeting tonight. She won’t be able to come. I will wait for you on the South-West Pier. Come before the sundown."

With those words, Solas left.

A shower later and a quick stop-by the council chamber proved Solas to be right, Helia couldn’t make it that evening. John considered not showing up to his and Solas’s date (and had to reprimand himself anytime he thought about it as a date) but in the end, found himself heading to the Pier just as the man told him.

Solas was already there. The man turned to greet John with a smile, gesturing for him to sit down. John looked at the prepared blanket and a picnic basket and did as he was told. Solas immediately pushed toward him a plate with the prepared meal and poured him a glass of Ruus wine.

"Solas, listen, we shouldn’t…" John tried to backtrack from the romantic dinner he found himself suddenly pulled into but Solas was quick to silence him.

"Please Colonel, just one glass of wine and dinner between friends. I am in a need of a little rest and I would like to do so in your company. I would like to know you better, Colonel Sheppard."

John found himself caving in. Maybe he shouldn’t. He made himself clear before and despite Solas’ words, he felt this was crossing the line. But on the other hand, a picnic like this felt nice and he felt rather nostalgic. A quick meal a single glass of wine couldn’t hurt, right?

So the two started eating, exchanging a few words at first followed by the bounds of silence when they would chew their food, John desperately wishing he would be anywhere else. And then something happened. Some dam broke and the soldier didn’t know how but he found himself happily chatting with the other man, honestly enjoying the time with him. They told each other stories, they reminisced about the old times and they watched the sunset together. And the both of them drunk more than one glass of wine.

The food was long gone when the stars filled the sky. John watched them, pleasantly tipsy when he felt a warm hand cover his own. His heart squeezed painfully and he turned his eyes from the night sky to look at Solas.

"Please, don’t," he tried to free his hand but Solas only squeezed it tighter.

It wouldn’t take much to shake it off. John knew. Even if Solas gave it his all, John was stronger than him. The fact that he didn’t do it spoke volumes. John didn’t want to listen.

"Please, may I call you John?" Solas asked, eyes hopeful.

John bit his lip. Coming there was a mistake. Agreeing to this was a mistake. He was a Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Air Force. Despite this, he found himself nodding in affirmation. And what was worse, when Solas leaned in toward him, John met him halfway.

---

The next morning John felt mortified. Not only did he not wake up in his own bed, but he also missed breakfast with Helia and the arrival of General O'Neill. The fact that Helia was not looking for him told him that she knew what had him occupied. He confirmed this when he saw her that afternoon in the Control Tower. That smirk she gave him must have meant only one thing.

Still, John couldn’t find it in himself to seriously regret his decision. He missed Solas and the night before was incredible. The fact that the Lantean healer didn’t seem to be put off by his new body and tried to get the know John Sheppard like he knew Antiope made John’s heart soar. Maybe it all was a mistake, but for that moment John was convinced that it was the right one.

And then the Replicators came.

---

"You cannot be serious!" John hissed at Helia.

The Lantean just rolled her eyes, obviously not taking him seriously.

"You know as well as I do that Replicators are unable to harm us," she waved his concerns away.

John’s blood was boiling. This felt kind of nostalgic. In a very bad way.

"It’s been thousands of years. You can’t be sure about their programming. Especially since I know McKay tinkered with it. Besides, their programming didn’t prevent them from attacking me," John argued, trying to make her see his point.

Helia sighed loudly. "Look, John. I appreciate your input, but you are being paranoid right now. There is no way they would be able to modify their Base code and I highly doubt that Dr McKay did delete such a command on accident. And let be honest, how they treated you cannot be used as any kind of evidence given your unique circumstances. Trust me, John. Everything will be alright."

But John didn’t.

"It was because of our arrogance that we lost the war with the Wraith."

Helia refused to speak with him after that.

---

He told her so. He told her so! Not that he would say it aloud in a situation like this. Because he definitely didn’t want them to be in a situation like this. They had to abandon their evacuation plan together with the stargate when they ran from the Control Tower. John had to drag Helia away, followed by O'Neill and Woolsey. Taran was the first to respond after the attack. He was dead. John had no idea where Solas was. He hoped he was alright. He had a bad feeling that he was not.

"Let me go," Helia commanded him suddenly, pulling on her hand.

John gripped her hand more firmly, not letting her go. "What do you think you can do now?" he asked her harshly.

Helia tugged her hand again. "They will look for me. You know that. They will not look for you. As far as they know, you are not here and you are not Lantean. You can survive. Let me go, John."

"No."

"John-"

"I said no! You can’t let me go through this again!" he screamed at her in the Ancient tongue, not caring about the two humans watching them, his hand painfully squeezing hers. He could not let go of her. Not like he did with his sister.

Helia gave a cry and suddenly there was O’neill on them, forcibly getting John to release her hand.

„Alright you two,“ the General gave him a stern look. "I have no idea what that was supposed to be but we don’t have time for that. Let’s get out of here. Sheppard, I’m counting on you to get us to the part of the city where the sensors are nonfunctional. So get a move on, Colonel!"

John swallowed his anger and his frustration, straightened his back and did as ordered, pushing his hurt feelings aside. Helia followed after them, but John kept an eye on her.

It was not enough.

Steps echoed in the hallway they were walking through and their little group froze in fear. Those were Replicators, they were sure of that.

"Get back, now," O'Neill hissed, pushing Woolsey back where they came from.

John turned to do the same with Helia, but she was a little quicker. The hem of her uniform slipped between her fingers as she ran the other way toward the echoing steps.

"Sorry John, I will lure them away," John heard her whisper.

Before he could run after her, O'Neill grabbed his shoulder harshly, pushing him along the way. "Move on. That’s an order, Colonel."

John hated this. He hated the Replicators, hated that Helia didn’t listen to him, he hated O'Neill and his orders. And more than anything, he hated himself for choosing to follow his orders. For choosing to be John Sheppard.

In the end, he lost them all again.

Chapter Text

"General."

"Colonel."

For a few moments, John just stood there watching O’Neill packing his stuff. Replicators didn’t really care about ransacking the living quarters, and so most of their personal belongings survived. Except for some of Woolsey’s things. Unfortunately, his quarters were caught up in one of the explosions during Lorne and the others‘ daring rescue. John still marveled at how Elizabeth and the others managed to talk Lorne into an unsanctioned mission.

"You just going to stand there and watch me pack my socks? One would think that the head of the military contingent on a newly reclaimed alien outpost would have his hands full of work now. "

John looked directly into O’Neill’s eyes, trying to figure out what the man was thinking. Without a doubt, his words left some hope. He thought that by now he would be stripped of his position and being poked and prodded. But O’Neill, while trying to look strict and authoritative, was quite obviously amused.

"Sir, about what I told you and Mr Woolsey about me. I... I’m compromised," he reminded him gently in case the general forgot. Because he knew now. O’Neill and Woolsey knew everything. John told them while they were hiding in the devastated parts of the city, because there was time, they had questions and they all thought they were going to die. But they lived. Which meant that John could no longer hide.

It didn’t seem that O’Neill thought the same.

"Yeah, you are compromised. But why should I sideline you? The way I see it, you just became our biggest asset. And if I had to always sideline my biggest assets just because they are a teeny tiny bit compromised, well, we sure as hell wouldn’t stand here now and have this conversation. Because we would be dead. Or worse," he chuckled and threw his balled-up socks into a bag.

"Just to be clear, Woolsey agrees with me. We also agreed on one other thing. Congratulations Sheppard, you just became the intergalactic secret."

John’s head was spinning. "Sir?" he asked, uncertain and, quite frankly, terrified upon seeing the general’s conspiratorial smirk.

"You heard right. Woolsey and I agreed it would be for the best to keep your true identity highly confidential. It is a pain, we need to invent a whole new security clearance for that. Anyway, you are going to resume your position as before with a small detail and that is the bi-weekly direct report to me. Of course, you are forbidden to reveal your identity to anyone without a clearance."

"Yes, sir!" John agreed quickly, relief rolling off his tight shoulders.

"Oh, and a bit of personal advice. Share your personal life with someone other than your superior officer. You will go nuts otherwise," O’Neill said as he zipped his bag.

"I thought I couldn’t reveal my identity to anyone without a clearance, sir?" he looked at the general questioningly.

"Right. So I do not want to see anything about it in your report. Goodbye Sheppard," O’Neill smirked at him, threw his bag over a shoulder and walked out of the room.
John thought he might fall in love with that man.

That evening he found himself in front of Teyla’s quarters. He debated a lot with himself and in the end decided to follow the general’s advice. He was not ready to tell just anyone yet. But with Teyla? He felt quite safe with Teyla.

---

Something was off. John noted it when flying Ronon and Zelenka back to the Atlantis. It didn’t happen often that the jumper’s navigation system was off. Sure, Zelenka was checking it now and he didn’t think that it was anything serious but John couldn’t help but worry. Perhaps it was just the stress from the last few weeks. He had to admit, the loss of Helia and the others was almost unbearable. Talking with Teyla helped - but only just.

"Hey. How long have you been standing there?" McKay asked, perplexed, as he noticed John standing behind him on the balcony.

"Hour or so," he lied smoothly.

"What?! Why didn't you say anything? I feel like a…Oh. It's the kidding."

There was nothing like pulling Rodney’s leg to get John out of the slump. His and Rodney’s relationship was still a bit strained, the scientist surely still thought of him as some kind of traitor, but he’d obviously decided to cut John some slack as he nearly died during the replicators‘ occupation of the city.

"What did you wanna show me?"

Rodney handed him the binoculars and John looked where he indicated, waiting some moments impatiently.

"Ah, a flagisallus," he smiled when he saw the alien whale.

Rodney gave him a stinkeye. "A what?"

John knew he fucked up. There was one trick to use in a situation like that. Feed Rodney some bullshit with a grain of truth without cracking the mask of seriousness.
"Flagisallus. Like that alien whale friend of yours. That’s what the species is called."

"Flagisallus? Terrible name. Please tell me you did not come up with that. Your names have an awful tendency of sticking around."

"No worries, that is just what the Ancients called them. It’s all in the database." There. He read it in the database. Wasn’t that hard of an excuse.

"You read the database?" Rodney looked at him skeptically.

Alright, perhaps a bit harder than one might have thought.

"Yes, Rodney, I read the database. I had some free time last month, remember?" John said taking care of making his tone have a sprinkle of bite in it. Perhaps if he made it clear to Rodney that he is now dabbling into a traumatic event, he would let it go.

"The database is in Ancient," Rodney continued looking at him suspiciously. Perhaps John was losing his touch.

"And I spent few weeks surrounded by Ancients. I learned a thing or two." Here. That might even come in handy in the future when someone (McKay) starts questioning him again.

"Oh, right, ok," Rodney deflated a bit. "Where exactly in the database was the species mentioned?" he asked curiously.

---

"And you do not see any such apparitions, do you?" Teyla asked him, her eyes having almost a pleading look in them.

John had to disappoint her and shook his head. Unlike Teyla, he did not see any Ancient ghosts. He was quite careful not to blatantly dismiss what she saw as mere hallucinations. After all, she was tired. But she was also helping him to make peace with what happened to Helia and the others for the last few days so the least he could do was to hear her out. Besides, there was that nagging feeling at the back of his mind. Something was off and that feeling only grew. But he just could not pin it down.

"Strange. If they are really the Ancient stuck in between this plane and the next I would expect them to seek you out," Teyla mussed.

"Why would they do that?" John questioned.

"Why else? Because it is you. And you are one of them. They would surely come to you for help." She sounded so sure of it.

"Well, most of them didn’t even know about me so I wouldn’t be so sure about that," he shrugged.

"Describe to me that woman and the burned man," he requested. He was sure it was just some hallucinations, but what did he know. Perhaps Teyla was right. Then maybe he knew them.

But as Teyla began describing them he was quite certain that he never met either of them.

"Perhaps it really is just a stress and a lack of sleep," she conceded dejectedly and massaged her temple to get rid of the persistent headache.

---

"You are not gonna believe this. I've been monitoring Sam on the underwater scanner."

John scrunched up his nose.

"Stop calling him that," he told Rodney.

"Why?"

"It's creepy!" Especially since he was aware of the story behind it. Unfortunately, McKay was something of a best friend of his, so he shared even those stories with him. He will be so pissed once he learns the truth about John and that he didn’t bother to reciprocate with the story-sharing. Doubly so if he finds out that John told Teyla before him.

"No it's not. Look, here he is, circling the city. He's been doing it for a while. Won't leave."

John was looking at the screen and at the movement of the whale he definitely didn’t call Sam and that bad feeling that was haunting him grew bigger.

"That is not good."

"Why? He is not dangerous. Big, but not dangerous. Yeah, sure, his mother is bigger and, in theory, she could likely cause significant damage to the city, but why would she?" Rodney rambled.

"Wait a second, what mother?" John cut him off, focusing on the important part.

"Oh, I tried to widen the scan, and you see, there she is!" he happily showed him on the screen. John just frowned more. And then it slapped him.

"We have to talk with Teyla and Elizabeth."

---

"What do you mean it’s the whales?"

"Exactly what I said. They are creating those images. And the resulting headache Teyla mentioned she had," he told the little group gathered in the infirmary.

"It’s no longer only Teyla. I’ve been getting several reports about headaches and nosebleeds. And several other people have seen the ghosts by now, including Elizabeth and Ronon," Beckett informed them.

"It’s not ghosts. Let’s not call them ghosts but image projections. How do you even know this anyway?" said Rodney, turning his frowning face toward Sheppard’s direction.

"As I said, it’s in the database," John defended.

"Didn’t see it there when I looked."

"You need to look deeper. I think there is also a bio-lab where the Ancients studied them, tried to even teach them their language. I can show you later. They wanted to try communicate with them, that’s how the whales are able to make such believable projections, just the language got a bit scrambled I guess. Anyway they are trying to communicate," he said, hurrying along the explanation so McKay would not have a chance to question him again.

"Look, it will get worse. Zelenka already confirmed that there are dozens more of them surrounding the city. This is not a normal behaviour for them. They are panicked and they came to us for help."

"How can you possibly know that!" Rodney didn’t held himself back anymore.

John had to admit, he could see why would his friend be agitated. But right now he was wound up. Because he knew it would get worse. He didn’t know what the whales wanted from them, but he he feared their attempts to communicate could become fatal to some.

"As I said, McKay, I had a lot of time to read the database. Just so you know, the Ancients kept diaries. Some recorded their encounters with the flagisallus in great detail. I recommend the one by Antiope Areia," John snapped. Teyla gave him an imploring look after that last sentence. John ignored her. He himself had no idea why exactly he said those words. It was clearly a mistake. A blunder on his part. Thankfully, there wasn’t time to delve into it.

"So," Ronon piped up, "we need to get rid of the whales."

"What? No! The whales are not the problem," John said.

"You just said it’s the whales," Ronon retorted.

"I said the ghosts and the headache and such is caused by the whales. But that is not the problem. Look, we’ve been here for three years now. If the whales wanted to slowly fry our brains they would have done it a long time ago. They are highly intelligent creatures. They came to us and are causing these visions because they are trying to warn us."

"Warn us about what?" Elizabeth asked.

John deflated a bit. "No clue." He probably should know. The nagging feeling at the back of his head was back with a strong force. There was still something very very wrong. If he could just figure out what!

---

The situation was getting serious. More and more people were getting sick from the whale’s singing. Teyla was by far the worst of all. Caldwell suggested they fire at the whales. John cursed him to Milkey Way and back for it. The thought of hurting the flagisallus grated him the wrong way. Then the Colonel offered to transport the sickest of the patients up to the Daedalus. This was a lot more welcomed suggestion.

"I’m not going anywhere," Teyla protested.

"You're far too sick, dear," Beckett countered, though with not as much heat as he used to. The good doctor was sick too. He hovered at his feet, ready to fall over.

"Doc, you might want to sit down for a bit yourself," John suggested him, motioning to his nose. Carson threw his hand to his own nose and upon realizing it was bleeding cursed under his breath.

"Oh, bloody hell. Excuse me," he said and left them alone.

"John, I’m sorry," Teyla said suddenly, her eyes glued to an empty spot where she surely saw the apparitions.
"For what? Being stubborn?"

"No," she shook her head and gave him a meaningful look. "I’m sorry you cannot see them."

She could have as well punch him to the guts. It was true, by now John was one of the last people that couldn’t see the ghost at all. He did suffer of headache, but it was not as severe.

He made a grimace and looked at the empty spot Teyla was watching just a few moments ago. He did not know whether he was happy he didn’t see them or not. It was surely painful either way.

"The burn man," Teyla started talking again, „I just noticed his uniform. He is an Ancient pilot.“

This grabbed John’s attention.

"Pilot, huh? Describe the uniform."

---

"How is it going?" Weir inquired as she and John walked into the bio-lab Sheppard pointed out. McKay was working on the device, trying to pull out something useful from the ancient flagisallus search.

"You are taking awfully long," John commented offhandly.

Rodney lewelled him with a stare. "Well, perhaps you could next time provide more useful information, Mr Well-read," he snapped.

"It seems that the Ancients were aware of the whales' deficient mimicry skills, and so they incorporated a kind of, um…acoustic language filter into the receiver. It took me quite long to figure it out. But I think I got it. Wanna hear?"

Elizabeth nodded eagerly and Rodney played with his laptop a bit and then turned on the sound. It was the voice of the woman from the projection. But to John it sounded like gibberish.

"Yeah, I don’t think you got it," he said.

"Well, just hang on, hang on. If I, um..." McKay punched some more keys, his face distorted in annoyance.

The sound came back and now John could make up some of the words.

"Something was attacked, or overtaken," Weir commented as they listened to the hard to make-out words.

"Meaning Atlantis," Rodney guessed.

"No, I don't think so. Adaris?" Elizabeth sounded confused.

John? John had just came to a terrifying realization.

"I know that name."

---

"An Ancient science vessel," John said as he pointed out the valid section in the database to his companions.

"The ship got hit by a blast of radiation from the sun. Some fifteen thousand years ago. Pilot was the only one who survived. Raced back to the city to warn them. The Ancients raised the shield and protected themselves and a large portion of the planet," he explained.

There was a pained expression on Rodney’s face.

"A coronal mass ejection," he said. "We're talking an intense proton stream traveling at over four thousand kilometers per second. Dwarfs anything our sun has ever emitted."

"So what are you telling me? This is going to happen soon?" Elizabeth asked, her voice now properly terrified.

"Not soon. It's happening right now," Rodney said as he brought up the readings from the sensor.

"The magnetic field around it is already beginning to weaken. When that prominence collapses, the coronal mass ejection will occur. It'll erupt from a very small area — a mere pinprick in comparison to the total sun's surface. But it'll immediately begin to fan out. Within a few million miles, the blast wave will cut a swath wide enough to take out this entire planet," Rodney rambled and John’s stomach was sinking.

He wasn’t there when it happened the last time. All he had to go by were the recorded testimonies. He knew that for his people it was not a that much of a problem when they knew about it coming. They had three ZPMs and so raising the shield to protect themselves and the ecosystem was relatively easy. The problem was, they did not have three ZPMs.

McKay, Zelenka and Weir were discussing it with slightly panicked voices. Even if the shield protected Atlantis, they had no way to protect the ecosystem, which meant massive extinction, no plant life, no breathable air.

Such a mess!

John mentally went through everything that came to his mind to get themselves out of it. But he couldn’t think of anything that would save them in time. Why didn’t he figure it all out a lot sooner? Why didn’t he keep better track of the star’s cycle? Why didn’t he start searching for the problem immediately after he became aware with the jumper’s navigation issue? Well, it was definitelly too late now. Some asset he was.

---

"This is not a good plan," McKay argued but didn’t stop him as he packed the ZPM.

In his mind, John agreed with him. The problem was it was the only plan he could come up with.

"Sure it is."

"Okay, okay. You want to deflect the coronal mass ejection away from the planet. You are crazy! Look, we would have to be realy close to the surface of the star. Suicidaly close."

"I know, Rodney! " John snapped. "That's why we're taking a ZPM—to strengthen the shields aboard the Daedalus. So we can deflect the stream with the ship."

They bickered some more but Rodney’s complains could not change the fact that they had no other choice.

To be completely honest, John was very surprised that it actually worked. Perhaps it was because it was such a lousy plan. Or maybe Helia was protecting from beyond. No matter what, he was not complaining. Sure, the Daedalus was a little worse for wear, but they were not toast and Atlantis and the planet was safe.

"Good plan, huh?" he asked Rodney. It was probably a good thing that the scientist was so happy to be alive because he might try to beat him to death with the ZPM.

---

"Most of them are gone now. They began dispersing almost immediately," Zelenka was saying as they watched the whales leaving through the screen.

John felt strangely dejected to see them go.

He turned on his heels and walked out of the command room seeking out Rodney. He was standing on the balcony just as before, looking over the ocean, smiling.

"They are gone," John said.

"Not all of them," Rodney corrected him. "Look."

John looked the way his friend was pointing. "Let me guess. Your buddy Not-Sam," he chuckled when he saw the small whale.

"Mmph. I like to think so. I like to think he's saying goodbye," Rodney mussed.

"Makes sense. He saved your life, now you've saved his. Eh, you're even."

They stood there in a silence for a moment. Then Rodney spoke. "You saved him. Yeah, I know, nothing of that would be possible had I not deciphered the whale’s song and connect the ZPM to the Daedalus‘ systems and such, but you? You figured it all out. Guess you picked out a thing or two from your stint with the Ancients, huh?"

"Yeah, " John nodded absentmindedly. "I guess I did."

Chapter Text

“I've run every test I can. Bloodwork, MRIs, X-rays, the lot. I found no anomalies in any of the results.”

“Okay, one more time—mysterious energy pulse! From a device created by the Ancients?! I mean, who knows what kind of long-term effects I could be in for. I mean, there's gross mutation, giantism, invisibility…?”

John listened to Rodney panicking and Carson’s exasperated retorts because he did do all of the test that could be done and found nothing wrong with the scientist. Silently John did agree with Rodney. After all, he knew the best what kind of fucked up things his people were working on in the city.

On the other hand, he has been dealing with Rodney’s paranoia for three years now so when the scientist started his wild speculations about the effect of the machine, he heard himself saying: “That would be cool. I turned into a bug,” without thinking it through. He had to admit, he deserved that glare from his friend.

And so John offered himself to keep an eye on him. If nothing else, he could sniff around the scientist and figure out into what kind of mess he got himself into.
Unfortunately, John recognized the machine the moment he laid eyes on it.

He froze in the lab doorway, bit his lip, and forced his face into something more neutral—somewhere between thoughtful and bored—when what he actually felt was horrified. He felt as a robot as he found a place to sit and grabbed a tablet.

It seemed that neither Radek or Rodney noticed his change in demeanor. They bickered and prodded the machine which circuits were fried and didn’t pay John any attention. Good, John thought. He had honestly no idea how to face his friend at that moment. He deserved to know, John knew that, but it wasn’t in him to break the terrible news. Not at the moment.

Instead of that he had gone to work. He looked up the relevant information in the database and started to translate the selected medical data into a file for Carson. He didn’t bother with the technical stuff for Rodney and Radek. They would be useless, he knew.

“You are being awfully quiet,“ Rodney observed.

It took John a bit to realize that he was talking to him.

“I’m always quiet,“ he retorted without his eyes leaving the screen.

“No, you are not. Well, alright, maybe you are a bit less talkative, but you never miss your chance for sarcastic remarks. And Radek was talking about Esposito. You always have something to say about women, Kirk.“

“What the hell do you think about me? And which one is Esposito? Is it the one with the perfect little-“

“Never mind!“ Rodney scoffed.

For a whole single second, everything was alright. And then John returned to his translation. He didn’t follow Rodney as he stomped off to get his lunch. Instead of that he finished his work, ignoring Zelenka’s curious glances, and went to find Becket.

---

“Doc, I need you to pull Rodney off the active duty,“ he greeted the doctor.

Carson gave him an annoyed look. “Why? Did he grow another head?”

“No,“ John said and put the laptop on the doctor’s desk, opening the file he prepared for him. He opened his mouth and found it awfully dry. He cleared his throat, fighting with his emotions to keep the cool mask on his face intact. “He is dying.“

Becket’s demeanor instantly changed. He abandoned his work, grabbed the tablet and for a few minutes read in silence. Then he looked at John with a devastated expression.

“Rodney found this when he was examining that machine?”

“Eh, no,“ John shook his head. “I found it. In the database. Picked out the most important parts for you. I haven’t told Rodney yet. I couldn’t,“ he trailed off.

Carson gave him a weak nod. “I understand. I will look through this. Try find something. I will tell Rodney.“

John gave him a grateful nod and then left the infirmary. His radio chimed right after the doors closed behind him.

“Colonel Sheppard, please have your team report to the control room immediately. Colonel Sheppard. “

Nice timing.

---

John didn’t manage to evade Rodney. He, Ronon, Teyla and a team of marines were just preparing to enter the jumper when the scientist barreled into the jumper bay, his gear barely in place.

“The hell are you doing here?” John snapped at him.

“What does it look like? I’m going on the rescue mission.”

“No, you are not,” John stopped him, raising his hand to block his entrance to the jumper. “Becket pulled you out of active duty.”

“Oh, right!” Rodney threw up his hands. “First nothing’s wrong with me and then he grounds me for no reason whatsover!”

“It wasn’t because of no reason. We have no time for this. Just go and talk to him.” John pushed Rodney away from the jumper and closed the door in his face. Rodney’s protests died with the sealing of it.

Teyla sent him an admonishing look. He ignored it. There was no time for quilt trip.

---

They had two casualties. Another three injured. John himself walked away with a fractured wrist.

Carson claimed it was not that serious as he was putting it into a cast.

“How is McKay?” John asked, trying to stay detached but informed. Becket made a face.

“He didn’t take the news well, as you might have guessed.”

John could imagine. He looked around the infirmary, noting the men he came back with.

“You didn’t keep him here with you?” he questioned.

“Oh, I wanted to,” Becket sighed. “I thought it would be best to monitor his condition closely.”

“And what happened?” John prodded.

“You know Rodney. Said if these are to be his last days he would spend them productively. Holed himself up in the chair room. Said he has some ideas about improvements to the city’s power systems. Apparently, he got even smarter. The reality of his imminent death seems to be stopping his usual gloating though.”

Listening to that, John felt pretty miserably himself. “Elizabeth left him by himself in the chair room?” as the military commander, he tried to stay focused on objectively important bits.

“Of course, she did assign him marines to keep him in check, if need be. But I don’t think they were particularly happy about it. Nor do I think they would make much difference if, you know...”

The doctor trailed off, obviously uncomfortable with further thoughts. John understood him.

“I will ask Ronon to replace them. He should be fine with it. And Rodney is more likely to be kept in check with the big guy around,” John said. Carson looked a bit relieved with that. Rodney was a safe amount of terrified of Ronon.

“Anything else?” John asked. “Any other...abilities beside the heightened intelligence?”

“A bunch, yes,” Becket admitted. “Telekinesis being among the most prominent ones. Just like in that file you gave me.”

John made a mental note to stay away from the scientist. If telekinetic abilities already showed up, the telepathic ones were just about to manifest too. He did not need for Rodney to snoop around his mind.

---

“I do not understand. Is there nothing that can be done?”

Teyla’s look was almost desperate. John made a face and shook his head.

“That device was constructed to help Ancients to ascend. Many of them, of us, saw the ascension as the only true road forward. The next stage of evolution. Those that could not ascend by their own means resorted to use that machine. They were fanatics, truth be told. Saw one route and one route only. No reset switch, because no one would just change their mind after the procedure.”

“And they never failed to ascend?” Teyla questioned.

John scoffed. “Oh, trust me, that thing killed more people than help to ascend. You need more than to just be physically evolved. The thing is the ones that did try it were already very desperate. No stopping them. The biggest problem, there was no one that would try stopping them. The ones that were unable to ascend, or blatantly refused the notion, were often met with a lot of derision from others.”

Teyla stayed quiet. Then she spoke again. “Dr Weir and Dr Zelenka are trying to comb through the logs of the machine and find something which would help them come up with a cure. Dr Becket is also reviewing the medical files.”

There was hope in her voice. John felt guilty that he had to crush it. “They are wasting their time. There is nothing. Rodney will keep evolving and then he will come to a point where the genetic mutations will peak. At this point, his body will not be able to handle it anymore. His brain, his organs, they will not get enough energy to function properly and at the same time they will literary overheat because they are just unable to keep that kind of load. It’s a full body break down.”

Teyla looked pensive for a little bit. Then she gave John one of the most curious looks. “So, there is only one way to save Rodne’s life. He must ascend.”

The thought leaves a sour taste on John’s tongue. Not he didn’t want his friend to live. But he considered himself something of an expert about the topic and he was quite sure he himself would not choose to ascend. Not again. He doubted the man in question would be too thrilled about the prospect either. No matter...

“There is quite a lot required to ascend beside intelligence and physical evolution. The possibility of Rodney to be able to do that are quite slim,” he heard himself say in not were friendly tone.

Teyla seemed to be put off by it. John shouldn’t be surprised; he didn’t sound pleasant saying those thoughts. But she shook it off and continued.

“Well, he has you to guide him to the success, doesn’t he?”

This surprised John. “What do you mean he has me?” he asked incredulously.

“Well, you have ascended once before. Who better to guide him through the process?”

Her words managed to shake him. “But Rodney doesn’t know about that.”

“But he is aware of you spending six months with Ancients who achieved the ascension. Though, when it comes to that, don’t you think it might be for the best to tell Rodney the truth?”

John didn’t answer that.

---

“What is with you people trying to make me Rodney’s personal meditation guru?” John snapped, rather uncharestically, at Elizabeth.

She seemed to be shocked but composed herself rather quickly. “Someone got the same idea as me?”

“Yes, Teyla.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Well, that just mean it is good idea. Listen, Rodney’s having a hard time accepting this can’t be solved with science, no matter how ‘brilliant’ he is. And you have already helped people to face their fears and finally ascend.”

“I fought a scary monster. That’s what I do best,” he remined her, in case she forgot who she was actually talking to. No matter that she had a point and, unlike Teyla, had no idea how appropriate the whole suggestion was.

“For Rodney, I’m sure this seems like a pretty scary monster.”

He had no retort for that.

---

He tried to keep his mind clear as he lit the last candle in his quarters. He knew Rodney had already acquired the mind-reading ability. He also knew that Rodney had already come to despise the mind-reading ability and hence trying to purposefully block it. But accidents happen, especially during meditation. John was still not prepared to risk it. He no longer had much of a choice, really.

“I don't think is going to work with you hooked up to the machine,” he told the scientist sitting on his floor as he strapped himself to the device which were to monitor his brain activity.

“How else am I going to know if it’s working at all?” McKay retorted.

John was already having a headache. He thought of Daehlan, his teacher back when he was a little girl. He used to scoff at people who resorted to science to achieve ascension. At this moment, John had to agree with him. A weird moment indeed for he always despised that man.

He bickered a bit with Rodney, reminding him that he himself sucked at the meditation. He tried to keep calm, but Rodney’s general personality was testing his patience. Nevertheless, he tried to channel his inner Teyla and keep a tight leash on his emotions. And thoughts. Why did he let himself be talked into this in the first place?

“Find a position that works,” he told Rodney after the scientist started to complain about his knees.

He had to hold his tongue when Rodney decided to lie flat on the floor. If he falls asleep I’m kicking him, he thought.

“Fine, be aware of your breaths. Don’t talk, don’t think. Just be. Just breathe.”

The scientist began doing that, though the not talking part was, unsurprisingly, quite hard for him.

“No talking McKay, just breathe. Deep breaths. In, and out. In, out.”

Subconsciously, he himself started to do so as well. Stupid ancient conditioning. But it seemed that it was working for Rodney. He stopped talking and let himself be guided by John’s voice. His shoulders seemed to lose a bit of a tension and the wrinkles on his forehead smoothed out a bit. Huh, perhaps it could work.

“Now, think about what worries you the most,” he said. His own mind traitorously zeroing in on that tiny little fact he was determined not to think about.

McKay’s eyes suddenly shot open. He sat up, too abruptly not to hurt his spine, John thought, and zeroed in his glare on John.

“What do you mean that you are an Ancient?!”

John’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. And then, as if a dam opened, million of thoughts flitted through his mind at once. And considering Rodney’s expression, he heard every single one of them.

“Antiope Areia, that is you? Oh my god, did I read your diary? Why did you tell me to read your goddamn diary? And how can you be an ancient chick? Oh, you ascended. And then plopped down on the Earth with an abysmal type of a plan like an idiot you are. I remind you of Solas? Who’s Solas? Oh? Didn’t know you also swing that way. Wait, what do you mean this is why you didn’t want to do this? You don’t think I have it in me to ascend. Well, I do agree with you there. And, oh...”

Rodney’s face went through several kinds of emotions but the one it stabilized on was the worst of them all. He looked John in the eye with the eyes reflecting utter betrayal and after few moments spoke out loud the words that were echoing in both of their minds.

“You knew where this was headed the moment you saw that machine. And you just accepted that there was nothing to be done. You are just waiting for me to die.”

John had nothing to say back. He just kept staring at Rodney, his heart racing a mile per minute. After several minutes, Rodney closed his eyes looking utterly defeated. He stood up, unhooking himself from the machine, and left the room, not speaking a single word.

---

“Rodney has just been to see me,” Teyla told him.

“Mhum,” John murmured, avoiding her stare.

“He came to share the memorial tea ceremony with me. For the anniversary of my father’s passing.”

There was a huge lead ball logged in John’s throat. He made another non-comital sound, watching the clouds outside the window.

“It was almost like... he was saying goodbye.”

John fought hard not to sob. Teyla came closer to him and sat down on the bed beside him. She raised her hand, placed it gently on his cheek and made him to look at her.

“John, what exactly happened?” she asked, worried.

“I’m a horrible human being,” he confessed.

---

Rodney hadn’t gone to see John for another meditation session after that. Elizabeth did go to ask him what happened though. John tried to play it cool. “It just didn’t work out,” he lied. Elizabeth reminded him that this was the only chance Rodney got. John felt more like a crap after that.

Everywhere he went, left and right people were whispering. Apparently, Teyla wasn’t the only one Rodney was trying to part with. Elizabeth got a book detailing her greatest accomplishments. Ronon got scars on his back cured. Radek broke down during dinner, sobbing about some heartfelt apology the other scientist gave him. Becket followed him. The doctor got himself totally drunk and passed out in tears sitting behind a table, his meal untouched. Apparently, Rodney told him to do a full autopsy of his body after he was gone.

John was the only one Rodney didn’t come to see. It was a painful payback for his avoidance earlier. John himself couldn’t hold back anymore and tried to seek Rodney out. Two times the scientist run away as soon as he spotted him. John didn’t try the third time. And then, one day, his radio chimed.

He walked to the infirmary with unveiled dread. There he saw Rodney, lying in one of the beds, looking weaker than he ever saw him. It wasn’t the first one John saw someone like this. Antiope has seen her fair share of friends and acquaintances failing to ascend after the treatment. But this time, this time was definitely the worst.

“The synaptic activity in your brain has reached over ninety percent. I don't know why, but it seems the more pervasive evolved state of the cortex is causing lapses in the lower brain function. It's almost as if your body's losing its natural ability to keep itself alive,” Becket was telling him.

“About six percent?” Rodney croaked.

Six percent to reach synaptic activity in his brain to get the readings consistent with the state where ascension was possible. Never before had six percent seemed to be so much.

Suddenly, Rodney’s eyes landed on him. He motioned for him to come closer, and John did. Rodney reached for his hand and John went to grab his, only for Rodney to bat it away, as weak as he was.

“Your other hand,” he spoke, barely above the whisper.

And so John raised up his other hand, the one still in cast. Rodney grabbed it weakly, sending a weak jolt of pain through John’s hurt hand. A weak jolt and then nothing. Rodney released his hand and then looked away. John knew, his hand was healed. This was his goodbye.

Rodney closed his eyes. His lips moved without making much sound. John knew what he was saying.

“Deep breaths, in, and out.”

Then his mouth stopped moving. His breaths were deep, steady, controlled. His body relaxed, his face clearing up. Looking almost serene.

There were tears spilling from Elizabeth’s eyes. Carson’s jaw was tight as he watched over his patient. Teyla and Ronon looked on with steeled expressions, warriors bidding farewell with their comrade.

Suddenly, Rodney reached out, grabbing Becket by the lapels. They stared at each other for a tense moment and then Rodney fell back on his bed, monitors beeping as he flatlined.

“He's not breathing! Quick! Bag him! We need to get him on a ventilator!” Becket commanded, moving quickly.

Elizabeth went to protest, but the doctor cut her short. “You don't understand! He just told me how to save him!”

They all moved. There was no time to think and no time to question. Carson had them rush McKay down a hallway and into the lab where this whole thing started. Radek was already there, readying the equipment. Ronon scooped Rodney up and lied him down on the podium. The machine activated, encased Rodney in the light and immediately after it turned dark, Rodney woke up.

“I’m alive!”

---

John had seen many go through the procedure. Ha had barely seen any to reach ascension. Rodney was the first one who came back. John felt a myriad of emotions. First and foremost, he was totally relieved that his friend survived. After that, there was pride. Rodney did something which no Ancient was able to do before him. Certainly, the pompous gits would never admit they were wrong and tried to fix their mistakes but still.

But there was one emotion which ate him alive. Shame. Because he did give up on Rodney, didn’t he? No man left behind. That was the spirit of their Atlantis. Rodney never gave up on John. And John couldn’t say the same about Rodney.

That night he found Rodney in his lab, going through his work with scrunched brow. He watched him for a few moments and then decided to advertise his presence.

“Hey buddy. How are you feeling?”

Rodney tore his gaze from the computer screen and gave him an annoyed look.

“Absolutely terribly,” he said and then returned his focus to the computer.

“Do I need to get Becket?” John asked, slightly alarmed.

“No, no,” McKay waved his hand. “I’m healthy as an ox. But I can’t figure out this! This code? This is gibberish! And the equations? I know it is something important but I can’t make heads or tails of that thing!” he raged.

John let him have his tirade. It was surely warranted.

“Well, and beside the math and stuff, do you remember...anything else?” he queried, hesitantly.

Rodney gave him a contemplative look, his face something unreadable. It was very unnerving, not knowing what the guy was thinking. He usually wore his heart on his sleeve.

“If you are afraid of me telling your little secret,” he began carefully and John’s heart plummeted, “then rest assured. I promise you I’ll keep it to myself, Colonel.”

His words were cold as in ice. John gulped nervously.

“Look, Rodney...”

“What?!” McKay snapped. “You don’t have to explain anything. I got it. Primitive creatures like us humans are not worth it to reveal yourself and offer a helping hand.”

“That’s not true!” John yelled. “That’s not true, Rodney. You think I wanted you to die? Hell no! There just wasn’t anything for me to do! I’m not a scientist, I was a pilot, a warrior, that tech is way beyond me. And I’ve already seen what it does! I saw countless of people dying because of those stupid experiments. Not even a single one survived. I just didn’t know what to do!”

“So, you did nothing,” Rodney scoffed. “Didn’t even have courage to tell me myself. Instead of that, you delegated it to Carson. And then you avoided me, just so I did not accidentally reveal your secret. Just so you know, everyone was desperate. Nobody knew what to do. But they still tried. Unlike the one person who I would once think to be the last one to give up. You just sat back, hid away, stuck your head into the sand and hoped that me dying will not be a too much of an inconvenience to you. How very Ancient of you!”

The last sentenced slapped John like a brick wall. He stood there; his eyes locked with Rodney. The scientist was breathing heavily, his mouth quivering in rage. John had nothing to say to him. After a while, McKay diverted his sight.

“Please leave me alone, Colonel. I have a lot of work to do.”

And so he did.

Chapter Text

“Say there's a runaway train. It's hurtling out of control towards ten people standing in the middle of the tracks. Only way to save those people is to flip a switch, send the train down another set of tracks. The only problem is—there is a baby in the middle of those tracks.“

“Why would anyone leave a baby in harm's way like that? “ asked Teyla.

Here we go, Rodney thought as he tried to explain that it is a purely ethical dilemma. “Question is: is it appropriate to divert the train and kill the one baby to save the ten people? “

Apparently, he’s chosen very wrong people for such a sophisticated debate.

“Wouldn't the people just see the train coming and move? “ asked Ronon.

Hence commenced a battle against windmills. In the end, Rodney gave up. “Sure. It is a stupid problem with demented people not seeing the immediate danger, “ he huffed exasperatedly and aggressively stabbed his potato.

In the corner of his eye, he noticed Sheppard. The colonel was sitting several tables away all by his lonesome. Rodney wasn’t sure what to make of it. He didn’t pity the man, not by a long shot. He thought it curious though that Teyla and Ronon chose to sit with him instead of the colonel. After all, they were a lot closer to him.

Mommy and daddy are fighting, he thought pensively, and the kids chose me as their favourite. It was unnaturally odd. Still, he was glad. The two made poor conversational partners, but he was very glad they prioritized him over Sheppard. He knew he was petty, but he did need to get one over Sheppard.

He sat there with his friends for a few silent moments as they no longer deemed necessary to continue in the conversation and wondered whether Sheppard would have interesting insights into the problem. He would undoubtedly have some stupid solution like outrunning the train to get to the people. Meaning no, no useful insight whatsoever. But he would keep conversation moving with his snarky comments. Rodney tried not to miss them.

And then Elizabeth called. Perhaps Rodney would be glad for the distraction. That would be had he not seen Sheppard stand up as well.

---

“We came through the space gate and immediately noticed a bunch of small satellites in geo-synchronous orbit above the planet,” Lorne was saying over the video.

Elizabeth was immediately intrigued, wondering whether they found an advanced civilization. As it turned out, that was not a case.

“As you can see,” the major was speaking as his team broadcasted a video of people using wooden wheelbarrows and other such stuff, “these people don't exactly look like they're ready to be launching any satellites, at least not for the next five hundred years or so.”

Rodney would swear that beside him Sheppard had started to suspiciously fidget. But his mind was preoccupied with the strange satellites, so he did not question him. He didn’t even want to, really.

“Ancients then,” he concluded. Interesting, though he was not sure whether it really warranted his attention.

“Send a science team to check it out,” Elizabeth said, to which Lorne piped up again. “Uh, actually…I think Doctor McKay may want to come check this one out for himself.”

Then he pointed camera at the last thing Rodney expected to see.

There it was a banner hanging from a building with a very familiar design. Red stripe at each side with white centre, a copy of the Canadian flag. And in the centre of the white field? Rodney’s own face.

Rodney was so shocked that what he did next was on pure reflex. He whipped his head to the side and locked his eyes with John. He was pretty sure they both looked exactly the same amount of surprised and guilty. Thought in Sheppard’s eyes there was one other emotion. Soon he turned his eyes away from him, biting his lip and refusing to look at him again.

He chanced a glance at Elizabeth. She seemed to be rather furious. She looked him dead in the eyes, quite obviously reading all his guilt in his expression and then moved her stare to Sheppard. He avoided it.

“My office. Now.”

The two of them did not have other choice but to follow her like a pair of misbehaving children.

“How the hell did your face get on that flag?!” she yelled at him once they were all in.

“Oh, uh, I don't know,” he tried. He really tried. Weir almost bit his head off for that.

And so, he and Sheppard had to tell her about the Game. The ancient game he and Sheppard had once found and played together. He really thought that it was only a very advanced simulation of a civilization. All very fictional. He wouldn’t have designed that flag otherwise.

“Two societies, separated by a river straight down the middle. Sheppard took one country, I took the other,” he explained Elizabeth.

Sheppard piped in too, once or twice. Most of the time he was silent though. Rodney supposed he was trying to distance himself from him, as he did for the last few days, so he did not pay it mind.

“And the two of you have been playing this game the whole time?” Elizabeth inquired.

She no longer sounded that furious, but there was clear disapproval in her voice and expression.

“Well, yes. I mean no. Sheppard stopped playing, huh,” Rodney blinked, adding two and two as he put certain events to a proper timeline. He pursed his lips and gave Sheppard another look, full of barely restrained fury. “Sheppard stopped playing few months ago.”

Exactly after that encounter with the wraith mind-fudging device.

---

“Rodney, wait!” Sheppard ran after him, trying to stop him.

Rodney didn’t feel much like stopping and discussing it with him. He felt quite good today. He even got one over Sheppard in a way when their friends decided to have lunch with him. He felt vindicated in a way. Now he got another slap. He felt like a fool.

He power-walked into his personal lab, Sheppard on his heels. Fine, here he at least could scream at him uninterrupted.

“Was it funny?!” he spat.

“Funny?” Sheppard looked flabbergasted.

“Yes, funny. Did you have a good laugh at my expense? Turned your nose up at me? Judged me, called me a dick, satisfied your ego enough by proving to yourself you are better than me?”

“Rodney, I have no idea what you are talking about,” Sheppard tried to placate him. Rodney would have none of it.

“You knew! With every evidence present, you have been aware of your ancient, ancient thing at least since that wraith mind-thingy on M1B-129. You stopped playing the Game right after. So, you knew what it really was. Washed your hands off it, kept your conscience clean. But you couldn’t tell me. Noooo, let’s make McKay keep playing, of course you think of me as a jerk with a God-complex. Must have been so satisfying having it confirmed, heh?”

“Please, Rodney, let me explain,” Sheppard begged.

Rodney had none of it.

“I understand perfectly.”

---

There was very uncomfortable silence in the jumper. Sheppard kept throwing Rodney glances, Rodney kept ignoring them.

He didn’t know what exactly did Teyla and Ronon think about their argument. Neither of them went and ask him what it was about, and he was not inclined to tell them anything. After all, he did promise Sheppard he would keep his secret. And there was no way to explain it without compromising him. But even if that was not an issue, he would not tell them. Part of him didn’t want to even talk about it. The other part was afraid they would come to Sheppard’s side.

Silence was in the end broken by Teyla.

“So…the Ancestors created this game?”

He was about to open his mouth to engage her but Sheppard did that first.

“It’s no game!” he snapped.

It shocked all of them. Or almost all of them. Rodney wasn’t sure about Ronon.

“Apologies. I couldn’t think of anything else to call it as that was what I was told,” the Athosian said diplomatically. Rodney thought they didn’t deserve her.

“Sorry,” Sheppard mumbled. “It is not a game. It was... an experiment, really. Study of primitive civilizations.” He shook his head. “There is a receiving device in both nations. On Atlantis you give out a command, really anything, people receive it, do it, the sensors get the data and send it back to Atlantis.”

“And they do not decline to do it? You can make them do anything you want?” asked Ronon.

Sheppard made a pained face. “Their whole civilization was created by Ancients. There are more than the settlements on this planet, you know. They were all created by them. The people do not know anything else, they only know how to listen to someone else. It is quite common theme for these civilizations. Most of them do not know how to think for themselves and so they will do everything and anything you tell them. After the Ancients disappeared, there were some that were able to get up on their own feet. There were those which got destroyed, unable to function on their own. Or they fell victim to the Wraith. The rest got stuck in a limbo, waiting for someone to come again and command them. It just so happens that we stumbled on those type.”

Rodney was slightly sick.

“Why the hell couldn’t you tell me?!” he growled.

There was a long suffocating silent moment. Sheppard didn’t look at him.

---

After that, it went all downhill. Rodney tried not to look at Sheppard too often. Every time he saw his frown, pursed lip, a slightly disgusted expression, he wanted to scream at him again. How did he dare to act all high and mighty when he let him continue playing that game?

To Sheppard’s credit, he spoke few words. There were no biting remarks, and he would not bicker with him about the failed trades or accused him of cheating for giving the people of Geldar some decent scientific knowledge. He used to before. Rodney hoped his silence was not all unspoken judging but also some guilt. He himself sure drowned in guilt. Especially when they realized, while showing Nola and Baden the secret of Oracles their people revered in the Atlantic lab, that the two nations are on the brink of war.

“They are both refusing to compromise. You seem to have convinced them that they can't make any decisions without your guidance!” Elizabeth was telling them exasperatedly.

It must have grated on her, with her career as a diplomat, to fail so spectacularly on these negotiations.

“To be fair, that one is not entirely on us. It’s, well, it’s almost like a religion. The Oracle is basically a God for these people. Back on Earth, people would wage war in the name of the God all the time. Except here the God is not unknown being, they have been communicating with those people ever since their history books remember! That’s a hard religion to break.”

Rodney had to admit he relished the moment Elizabeth turned fully on Sheppard for those words. He did agree with him, but he would not tell that to either of them.
“Well, then you two have that much harder job cut out for yourselves. Go and make those people atheists!”

She stormed away after that. This must have really irked her.

“Here I thought it was only SG-1 that had ever gotten such kind of order,” Rodney quipped, not able to stop himself.

Somehow, his eyes met Sheppard. They stared at each other for a few moments and then something unbelievable happened. Sheppard giggled.

---

“We've just received a data stream from the planet,” Zelenka was saying as he gestured to the monitor with the game’s map. On it several Hallona troops were shown, descending on Geldar people at the mine entrance.

“You ordered an attack?!” Rodney screeched.

“I didn’t!” Sheppard snapped back. “I haven’t touched that thing for months!”

Somehow, Rodney believed him.

“Looks like your war just started,” Elizabeth concluded, sounded defeated.

“Bring our guests here. We need to find out what happened,” she ordered.

Soon, they were joined by the two leaders.

“Who ordered this?” Sheppard questioned.

“I did,” Baden admitted without preamble.

“It was something you would do,” he told Sheppard.

“I ordered you to make peace with these people!” Sheppard was quite visibly loosing it. Uncharacteristically so, in fact. Rodney had a bad feeling. And it was not because he just watched several people of Geldar being slaughtered.

“You have no right to order me around,” Baden said, his voice as ice. “You abandoned us. You told me to think for myself. So, I did.”

There was a dangerous look in Sheppard’s eyes. Quicker than anyone could react, his fist flew up and landed square on Baden’s face.

“Colonel Sheppard!” Elizabeth bellowed. She motioned for the security detail, and they immediately moved to restrain him.

“No need, I will not do it again,” Sheppard reassured them. Rodney had hard time believing him.

---

Rodney had to admit, as batshit crazy as Sheppard’s plans tended to be, they worked. And he was very glad they did. He was also very grateful for Elizabeth’s insight. The Daedalus did come in fact very handy.

“I don’t understand,” Nola was looking at him perplexed. The Oracle room was dark, the terminal without power. There was fear and confusion in her eyes. Of course there was, she has just witnessed her people die. Or at least she thought so.

“See, we were beamed up earlier to our ship, the Daedalus, in…orbit over your planet,” Rodney started explaining.

It was a clever plan. Hack the two devices, upload doomsday scenarios for both countries and let them live through the worst outcome. All just simulation. Both for those people, watching through the terminal, the fear was very real. Of course, nicely pinpoint shots from the ship in the orbit helped with the realism.

“I'm sorry that we had to do that. But you needed to see how this could end.”

Rodney hoped they would wiser up. The war was not a silly game.

---

Rodney’s door alarm chimed. He should have expected Sheppard standing behind them. He looked very sheepish.

“Look, I know you are not happy with me at the moment. But I would really like to talk. Perhaps play something a bit more...harmless,” he raised his hand to show him a chessboard.

Rodney thought about it. For a whole minute.

“Rod-ney,” Sheppard drawled, trying to rush him into speaking.

“Oh, fine! If nothing else, I did learn from this that communication is important. I’m not a completely arrogant idiot, you know. And I guess... this does affect the whole team. Yes, we need to talk,” he nodded and waved him in.

Sheppard came to the coffee table, pushing a chair to it and sitting down on it. Then he hesitated.

“And the game?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Rodney nodded as he plopped down on the couch. “Let’s play.”

They spent several minutes moving the chess pieces in silence, neither of them turning their gaze away from the chessboard. Then, Rodney couldn’t hold it.

“Why? Why didn’t you tell me about the game? Why did you let me play it?”

Sheppard raised his hand and run his through his hair, mussing them up. “I was afraid,” he said after a moment.

“There was so much. A lot of things at the same time. I didn’t even know what was true and what... I felt like I was losing my mind. First, I stopped playing the game mostly because I was just confused about everything. Confused and hurting. The game was such a low priority. And then I realized what it was. And I thought about telling you, I really did. But I had no idea how to explain myself. Wasn’t even sure whether the things I knew were real or not.”

He stopped and looked him in the eyes at last. “But then Helia and the others came. I finally got my truth and had to come to peace with it first. And you left Atlantis anyway. Then you came back and I just... no longer remembered it. Besides...” he stopped. He made few faces and then glued his stare back at the chessboard.

“Besides?” Rodney prompted.

“Besides, I figured no matter what, the Geldar was in good hands. You were right, you know? I played the game aggressively. Expanded army, build defences. No wonder Baden did what he did. I created that personality. You, on the other hand? You made your people prosper. Sure, you did give them too much technology too soon, and taught them bow to build a bomb,” he gave him a pointed glance but soon after his eyes softened. “But you genuinely made their lives better. Can’t say the same about me.”

Rodney thought about his words. They weren’t an apology, they weren’t what he wanted to hear. But they brought him something like piece. This whole ordeal made one thing clear to him. Sheppard didn’t gloat about his higher moral stand. He wasn’t silently laughing at Rodney while he played the game. He wasn’t belittling him. He just made bad choices. But that was nothing new.

“So, all good?” the colonel asked tentatively.

“Honestly, no. All is not good,” Rodney said and moved one of his pawns forward.

“Just make your next move.”

It will take time. Multiple games of chess. As many as needed.

Chapter Text

Things between Rodney and Sheppard were the last several days on the civilized side. Yes, Rodney would snap at him every now and then. Sheppard would rather bite his tongue than give him an usual snappy retort. Things were still raw, still uncomfortable. Sheppard continued eating alone, which—Rodney knew—grated on Teyla. Ronon, not so much. Rodney wished he knew what the two of them were thinking. On the other hand, he really didn’t want to ask.

He did get a glimpse though one afternoon when Teyla ambushed him in his lab. She appeared in the door, all her Athosian zen and such and asked sweetly whether he had time for a talk. He really didn’t, but he obviously hasn’t got balls to deny her either. And so she closed the door behind her and seated herself comfortably in one of the chairs, eyeing the tech scattered on the table distrustfully.

“I thought it might be the right time to talk about John, as it seems you have already calmed down a bit,” she stated, watching him attentively.

Rodney fiddled with an ancient crystal, then gave her a tight smile.

“Look, Teyla. I know the things are a bit weird between me and Sheppard, but I can’t really talk about it. It’s just, well, it’s a Sheppard’s business and I know he would not appreciate me laundering his dirty socks to anyone.”

There was a hint of smile at the corners of Teyla’s lips, but she managed to control herself.

“Rodney, I know,” she said, calmly, intoning the words.

“Yes, well, if you understand, there is nothing else to discuss,” he said, waving hand at her dismissively.

Teyla didn’t move from her spot.

“No, Rodney. I know. I know about John. About his... past. He told me.”

Rodney looked at her as if she sprouted a second head. Scratch that, that was too normal, he looked at her as if she has just suggested that Kavanagh should win the Nobel price. Somehow, comprehending her words was extraordinarily hard. Then, it clicked, the deafening sound of it resonating inside Rodney’s skull.

“He told you?!” he screeched.

Of fucking course he did. It was Teyla. Still, he couldn’t believe she got the luxury of being told. Unlike Rodney who got to know from a mindfucking accident. Excellent, Rodney wondered whether Ronon knew too. And Elizabeth. He supposed he was the last one to know.

He stood up abruptly and started to pace. He wanted to punch something. Or kick. So, he kicked the table. He hurt his leg.

“Rodney!” Teyla  jumped to her feet as well, slightly panicked.

“Sonovabitch, that really hurts,” he cursed, jumped on one leg for a few moments and then let himself be calmed down and seated on his chair. Teyla was looking at him as if he was mad. Perhaps he was, scientist and all. She hesitantly sat down again but didn’t relax. She probably thought that Rodney might jump up again and put his fist through one of the monitors. Well, he would never destroy a tech like that. And his leg really hurt so he did not feel like continuing in his temper tantrum.

“So, you know,” he grumbled, frowning.

Teyla nodded. “John needed someone to talk to. So, he came to me. Rodney, you must understand, he was holding too much in. He went through one too many painful things. I do not believe he told anyone else. He was too afraid to do so. Given how things with you turned out, I doubt he will find it in himself to confide to anyone else. At least not anytime soon.”

Rodney made a distasteful grimace. Then, tentatively, he asked. “Ronon? Elizabeth?”

Teyla shook her head. “I do not believe they know anything.”

This did calm him down a bit. So, he was not the one in the dark for once. Perhaps he shouldn’t be as relieved as he found himself to be. He didn’t care.

“Alright, fine,” he mumbled and eyed Teyla.

“But I can’t just forgive him. Not like that. He was willing to just let me die. He, he, he let me play that stupid game. If he stopped me, all that stupid stuff might have not happened. He...”

“Was afraid, desperate and confused. It doesn’t excuse him. I made sure to let him know that. But I also do not think it makes him a monster. I believe he already suffered enough. He made mistakes, Rodney, I know. But he is just human.”

Rodney flinched at her words. “Except he is not. He is not human.”

Teyla gave him a contemplative look. “Do you believe that? He is the same John Sheppard he has always been.”

Rodney shook his head. “No, he is not. John Sheppard is... he is gone. This Sheppard, this Sheppard is someone else. Don’t look at me like that. You know he is not. He might look the same, he might act the same, but you must have noticed. He is different. I’m sorry, Teyla, but it will never be the same. I just can’t see it. Don’t worry, I will try to be civil. I am trying. It will get better. But I do not think it will be like before.”

He turned away from her, his hand automatically grabbing his laptop. “Sorry, I really have a lot of work. I assure you; I’m working on my relationship with him. I will not let our team break like that. And it will not interfere with our work.”

She didn’t speak again. There was a long silent pause and then Rodney heard squeaking of the chair, Teyla’s light steps and opening of the door. He relaxed a bit after the door closed again. He felt terrible. He couldn’t imagine feeling better any time soon.

Just a few minutes after Teyla left, Zelenka appeared. For a horrifying second, Rodney expected him to interrogate him about Sheppard as well. Irrationally, a wave of anger went through him. The thought of Sheppard telling Zelenka? That was a low blow. Not that he disliked Radek, but he and Sheppard weren’t exactly confidants. But Radek wanted to discuss something else.

“How stupid do you think we are?” he asked with indignation.

Rodney frowned, wondering what this was about. But he already had retort on his tongue before thinking it through. “You and the other minions are brilliant, of course, I wouldn’t work with anyone sub-par. But you are still a bunch of idiots, every single one of you. Why?”

Radek sneered at him and then pushed something yellow right into his nose. Rodney cursed at him, grabbed the thing – paper, he subconsciously realized – and brought it to a distance away from his face so he could look at it properly. It was a yellow sticky note with words ‘Dangerous shit – do not touch!’ scrawled over it. The writing was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. There was a more pressing question there anyway.

“What is this?” he asked, utterly confused.

He looked at Radek, whose face went from rage to sheepish confusion. “You mean, it is not yours?” the Czech asked.

Rodney shook his head, rising an eyebrow, inquiring. A move he learned from Sheppard. And damn him, must he haunt Rodney at all times?

“Do prdele. Sorry Rodney, I just assumed. Found this on one of the consoles in East wing lab 7. Thought you were being a jerk.”

Rodney looked at him questioningly and then returned his glare to the sticky note. “I can assure you; I would write a memo into our manual instead doing something as idiotic as slapping a sticky note on an apparently dangerous device. What machine was this on?”

Radek shrugged. “No idea, it was not any of those we investigated before. Considering the sticky note, we skipped that one. It really wasn’t you? We found similar notes on several other consoles. Awfully lacking details.”

Rodney pondered about it a bit. “Well, once I find the idiot who cannot properly mark their work...” he made a vaguely threatening gesture. “But maybe replace that note. And put the warning into our internal manual. Let us not be even more stupid and start playing with something dangerous. I will look at it later and see what exactly it does.”

---

Later that evening, Rodney found himself in Sheppard’s quarters, chessboard in front of him and Sheppard on the other side of it. They haven’t spoken a single word since Rodney appeared at his door. Sheppard just let him in, they sat down and started playing. It was their new awkward normal. But Rodney had things to say. In the end, he couldn’t keep silent.

“When were you going to tell me that Teyla knows too?” he asked, mask of fake calmness on his face as he moved his knight.

Sheppard looked like an antelope in headlights. He visibly fidgeted, took his rook and made a colossal mistake. Very un-Sheppard like.

Rodney glared at the chessboard, calculated and once he was sure he would win this set he leaned in, knocked down Sheppard’s king and proceeded to return his pieces into their starting positions. Sheppard hesitated, stared at the chessboard and then probably came to the same conclusion as Rodney because he just nodded and prepared his pieces for a new game as well.

Rodney waited till they were three moves into the new game and prompted again. “So, Teyla?”

Sheppard shrugged. “I felt like going crazy. And I refused to go talk to Heightmeyer. So, Teyla. O’neill also said it would be for the best to talk to someone.”

Rodney thought he might handle this conversation. He really did. If it was only about Teyla, he would. But... “O’neill?!” he hissed. “You told O’neill?!”

It might have been just his imagination, but it seemed that Sheppard shrivelled a bit there.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice, really. The freakin’ Asurans came, and the cat just got out of bag,” he defended himself.

Rodney made a face. Teyla knowing was one thing. Understandable, though it irked him. Elizabeth knowing he could also stomach. Ronon? Yes, he could live with that. General O’neill? Totally unforgivable.

“Does anyone else know?” he questioned.

Sheppard looked him in the eye and then got spooked and averted his gaze. Rodney might have been dense every now and then, but he read that guilt in his expression quite clearly.

“Who else did you tell?” Rodney asked more forcibly.

“Woolsey,” Sheppard said, his eyes glued to his shoes.

Woolsey. Rodney straightened up. He watched Sheppard, his mind deliciously blank. They sat there a minute, two, and then Sheppard took one careful look at him. Seeing his puppy eyes enraged Rodney beyond control. He slipped his hand under the chessboard and violently flipped it, the chess pieces scattering around the room.

“Woolsey!” he spat, stood up and left the room.

He acted like a jerk. Worse, like a kid throwing a temper tantrum. He realized that. He also didn’t care. Just when he thought nothing else with Sheppard could anger him anymore. Why did it aggravate him so much?

He stopped three corridors away from Sheppard’s room, his heart beating only a mile per hour instead of a lightyear. He walked onto a balcony, letting the crisp evening air engulf him. He leaned against the railing, his head going through his actions. There was shame somewhere deep inside. Hurt covered it well enough though.

“Woolsey,” he growled, not much heat in his voice anymore.

He bet Woolsey didn’t find out in such a shitty way as he did.

---

He got back to his room fairly late. He shrugged off his uniform and jumped in bed. There was a need for this day to be over. Some high-quality sleep would do him good.

He fell asleep quickly. And not even a half an hour after that his radio chimed.

“Whatever it is tell Radek to do it. I will fix it after him later,” he grumbled into the little microphone after a bit of struggle to get his earpiece into a place.

“Sorry to wake you, Rodney. But please, do come to the infirmary right now.”

Carson. Rodney was going to stick 13 needles into his voodoo doll. See how he liked the taste of his own medicine, the damn witch doctor.

He dragged himself out of a bed, looked wearily at his clothes and then decided screw it, it was middle of the night, if they oh so desperately needed him they had to suffer him in a bathrobe. He threw it on himself and walked to the infirmary, wondering why exactly the doctor needed him.

He sobered up when Carson told him the situation.

“You know, I think I am a pretty easy guy to work for. I am usually too busy doing all the really important stuff to micro-manage all the little things I need you people to be doing. Now, because of that, you have a fair amount of freedom. That does not, however, mean you can do whatever the hell you please. There are rules; there are protocols in place not only to protect this city but your sorry little existences,“ Rodney sneered at Watson and Hewston.

Because of course, of fucking course there were idiots that just thought that activating random Ancient devices was totally fine and couldn’t blow them all to smithereens. Belatedly, he wondered whether it was one of those with a sticky note on. The two looked like the kind of morons that would go in to explore an obviously haunted house despite the big creepy sign screaming ‘keep out’ or just old plain ‘danger’.

The thought about the sticky note made him think about Radek and now all of his anger was redirected to the bespectacled scientist. If Radek didn’t leave the idiots to their own devices to go and bother him with a stupid piece of yellow paper, then perhaps the said idiots wouldn’t be so reckless in the first place. Where were they, in the kindergarten? Did the entire population of this city need a babysitter?

“So, are they gonna live? More importantly, can I go back to bed?” he asked Carson.

Lucky for everyone involved, especially the two idiots who got themselves dosed in whatever radiation, Carson proclaimed them to be alright. Perhaps a proclamation made too soon, especially since just a little while ago Rodney was also just fine right until he almost died. The smart thing might have been to go to the lab and figure out what exactly the morons turned on. But Rodney was just so damn tired.

“Just, take tomorrow off,” he told the moronic duo, cutting his berating short. There was not much energy in him left, though the anger did help.

“We already have tomorrow off. It's the mandatory rest day,” Hewston reminded him.

Rodney paused, his tired mind pulling up dates. “It is? Already?”

It couldn’t be. There is no way a month could fly by that fast. Someone cleared their throat, and Rodney automatically looked the way the noise came. Carson stood there, behind a pilar so the other two scientists couldn’t see him, miming casting out a fishing wire.

Oh, great, Rodney thought. That damn promise to go fishing with Carson. He would have revelled in the idea of having the entire next day off but the thought of spending it with Carson, playing with worms, wading through water and listening to myriads of boring things the witch doctor considered interesting conversation topic almost made him wish for Wraith attack.

He left the infirmary in a hurry, careful not to interact with Carson anymore. He had to come up with a good excuse to ditch him. He didn’t feel good about it but he also didn’t feel particularly bad either. He deserved a break, a real break. Maybe he could talk Katie into a lunch date. He did mean to ask her for another date; it was far too long since he spent quality time with her. He wondered whether she even was his girlfriend. They did see each other awfully little for that label to mean much.

He came back to his quarters and collapsed on the bed, no bothering to get the bathrobe or his shoes off.

Belatedly, he wondered whether Sheppard would know what that device Hewston and Watson activated did. I will ask him in the morning, he thought just as the sleep claimed him. He never did.

The chapter ended, but here you go, a little treat for you! The result of my sleepless night playing with ChatGPT. Read from right to left. Also, first pictures of Antiope! YAY!