Re-Connect

'Cover' art by Wychwood.

October, 2010

General Benjamin Sheppard was not a terribly patient man. Oh, he’d been in the military for over thirty years; he knew how to be patient. It just wasn’t a virtue that came naturally. Having been shuffled between five offices and three continents, his patience finally ran out. He’d put in the required waiting time, thank you. He wanted to see his son, and he wanted to see him yesterday. At the very least, he wanted an accurate indication of when said meeting would take place; after a truly incredible amount of bureaucratic runaround, it looked he might finally be getting one.

First, there had been the wait for his old buddy from ROTC to pull John’s full file; that had taken almost a month. Then he’d needed to organize his own schedule so that he could take three weeks off without a problem; that had taken another week (and a lot of yelling at his secretary). Finally, he’d had to actually travel down to Antarctica; that had taken 3 days between the varying military flight schedules. But he’d be damned if he was having this conversation over the phone – the last time he and John had talked, the conversation had been short and unpleasant (he’d learned of John’s potentially career ending disciplinary hearing two days after it had happened; John hadn’t believed him). This time he wanted at least a prayer of making things right. Fifteen years was too long for this kind of rift.

When Ben had arrived at McMurdo, he’d gone straight to the CO of the base. Lieutenant Colonel Murphy had informed him in no uncertain terms that there was no John Sheppard stationed at McMurdo – LTC or otherwise. When Ben had mentioned the classified status of John’s position, he’d been told that there was a second AFB about 60 miles away – a classified base. He’d arranged to ship out in the morning with a supply run (being a General had some benefits, after all), and spent the evening getting a desk sergeant drunk enough to learn everything there was to know about the base he’d be visiting. The rumors coming out of that place were seriously strange (and he’d taken them with a grain or three of salt), but thanked the sergeant and headed for the Visiting Officer’s Quarters (who would have believed McMurdo had VOQ? He’d certainly been surprised, and he didn’t surprise easily at his age. They must get a Hell of a lot of brass through visiting the research base).

The next morning he woke up hopeful, and luck seemed to be with him. The ride to the classified base was smooth, and the sun was shining cheerfully. A little judicious usage of rank and he was past the bored desk sergeant and descending several stories by elevator. It was when he reached what he’d learned was an excavation site (he still hadn’t quite figured out how John had managed to land a combat commendation working at an archeological site, but he’d filed that under ‘things to ask later’) that things started to go pear-shaped.

Oh, at least they knew who John was here; the civilian running the dig (Dr. Richard Scott) recognized the name immediately. That was a step in the right direction. John just wasn’t there. According to him, John “hadn’t been down since he brought the last batch of marines in for detox, ‘bout six months ago. They bring ‘em in once a year, those who want to move back.” Ben had nodded like he understood and allowed himself to be ushered to the man’s office.

Just as he’d settled into a chair in front of the man’s desk, an announcement had echoed through the PA system. With an apology and assurances that he’d be right back, the doctor had left him alone. When one minute turned into five, Ben started looking around the office. His gaze was drawn to something that resembled a PDA on the edge of the desk. Curious, he picked it up and tapped the screen to wake it up. It wasn’t a PDA, but he wasn’t sure what exactly it was. He started experimenting with the various buttons, and had just managed to change the screen display away from something that looked like a demented version of Pac-Man when the doctor returned, a startled look on his face. “You have the gene?”

He blinked, confused. “The ‘gene’?”

Dr. Scott’s eyes narrowed. “You do have security clearance, right?” Apparently Ben didn’t answer quickly enough for the doctor’s liking. “I’m going to need to see your ID.”

Ben frowned, not liking where this was going. “I’m a Major General; I really don’t think you have the authority to question my credentials.”

“Believe me, I do. ID. Now.” Ben handed it over; he knew enough to know when he’d been busted. Dr. Scott walked him out the door and signaled two passing marines. “I’m going to have to ask you to wait for me in the conference room. Stackhouse & Miller will escort you there and remain until I’m done here. It should only be a few minutes.”

The two marines nodded, and one took his arm. “This way, General.”

* * *

Long story short, Dr. Scott’s bosses weren’t too pleased with the situation, and inside of an hour Ben was en route to Colorado Springs. Apparently he’d managed to catch NORAD’s attention. Well, it wasn’t like he really wanted that third star anyway; he could always retire if necessary.

Another 24 hours of travel later, far too few of them involving sleep, he climbed off a plane at Peterson AFB and paused to consider if this had actually been worth the trouble. He obviously wasn’t going to get any answers. By the same token, he was also too far in to backtrack. Stackhouse, the NCO who’d been assigned to escort him to Cheyenne Mountain from the Antarctic base, brought him out of his thoughts with a hand on his arm. “This way, sir. The Generals should be waiting for you.”

He nodded and climbed into the waiting car. Generals. Plural, more than one. He was screwed. He spent the ride over to Cheyenne Mountain contemplating what degree of ‘royally fucked’ he was. John was going to laugh his ass off if the old man landed a disciplinary hearing; not that they tended to do that for Major Generals, but there was a first time for everything.

When they arrived, he was led through a maze of corridors, searched, and generally put through more security than he’d ever seen in one place, including the Pentagon. He was finally taken something like 20 floors underground before finally reaching his destination – a conference room in variations of gunmetal gray occupied by a Major General & a Lieutenant General who both looked annoyed at his existence. They were introduced as General O’Neill and General Landry respectively.

“General Sheppard, would you care to tell me what you were doing in our Antarctic research base?”

Ben considered for a moment, and decided to go with honesty. “I was looking for my son, sir.”

“Yes, we’d concluded that much. Why not just write him a letter?”

Ben sat up straighter. “I don’t know if you’ve met my son, sir, but we share a few traits. Bull-headed stubbornness is one of them. If I want to patch things up with him, it won’t happen unless it’s face to face.”

O’Neill shared a knowing glance with Landry, and Ben got the feeling they knew John. He spoke again, before either of them could shut him down. “Listen, I know I’ve broken some regs. Hell, I’ll retire after this if I have to, but I want to see my son.”

O’Neill smirked at Landry. “I’ll leave this one up to you; I’ve got to be back in Washington by 1600 for a meeting.”

Landry nodded, and once the door closed behind O’Neill he steepled his fingers. “I understand where you’re coming from. I’ve got a child in the military myself whom I didn’t speak to for years. So I’m going to authorize this.” He reached into the folder sitting on the table. “I need you to read and sign these. I don’t care what your rank is, everyone who goes further than this signs off. You talk to anyone, and you’ll get the Special Forces at your door – We’ve got a presidential mandate.”

Ben took the papers numbly, and signed without reading them. A warning siren echoed through the halls just as he handed them back and Landry broke into an amused smile. “This is your lucky day, General. You arrived right in time for the weekly check-in.”

Ben blinked. “Check-in? I’m sorry if I seem slow, sir, but checking in from where? According to his official file, he’s stationed to a classified location in Antarctica. I was there; no one at McMurdo knows who he is, and Dr. Scott said he’s been gone for six months. What’s going on?”

“Would you believe me if I told you your son works security on a deep space telemetry project?” There was a pause, but the question was obviously rhetorical. “I thought not. What you’ve managed to do, Ben – can I call you Ben? – is stumble into the middle of one of the most highly classified projects currently active in the US Military.”

“I’d gathered that much, General Landry; that still doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Your son heads up the military contingent on one of our classified remote bases; they check in once a week, which is the siren you heard a few minutes ago. Walk with me; we need to get you suited up if you’re going to head out when we dial back in half an hour.” Ben followed him out of the conference room and to the nearby elevator. “We don’t normally do this, a check-in from both ends, but we’re sending over some medical supplies that didn’t make it on the last re-supply run by accident.”

Ben wanted to know more, wanted details and locations instead of the vagaries that were part and parcel of classified operations, but he didn’t want to push his luck. He followed Landry into a locker room where he acquired a set of nameless BDUs and was instructed to change and store his things in an empty locker while Landry made arrangements and not to go anywhere until someone came to collect him.

Five minutes later, a Colonel Carter knocked on the door and asked if he was ready to leave. Ben emerged, gave her the number of the locker he’d appropriated, and was escorted to a stairwell and to a control room of sorts. On the walk, he asked Col. Carter if she knew his son. He got a rueful grin in response. “We’ve met. I wouldn’t say I know him, but we’ve met.”

“And?”

“And, this is your stop, General. Have a safe trip.” She vanished back the way she had come, grabbing one of the scientists on her way.

Gen. Landry walked over. “Ready to go, General?” Ben nodded, wondering again what exactly John had gotten himself into. “Good. This here is Doctor Stefani.” She offered her hand and they shook. She had a firm handshake, and the calluses that indicated someone familiar with firearms. “She’ll be going with you. When you get through the gate, give this to Dr. Weir.” He handed Ben a ten pound bag of what looked like really good coffee and a sealed envelope. “She’s the expedition head. She’ll explain things further. I wish we had time to brief you, but we’re on a tight schedule here. We’ll expect you back in one week, barring any problems.” Landry patted Ben on the shoulder. “Good luck, you’re going to need it.”

Ben nodded. “Thank you, sir. For everything.” They exchanged salutes, and then he was being led down to the area below the control area. When they arrived, Dr. Stefani took a position next to a pile of containers marked with a red cross. She appeared to be waiting for something, her eyes on a large metallic circle at the top of a ramp. He leaned against the top crate, settling in to wait and hoping to gain a little information in the mean time. “So, Dr. Stefani, what can you tell me about this base?”

She looked up, surprised. “Atlantis? It’s… Unique. I guess you’d call it an acquired taste. She’s beautiful, though. Even for those of us without the gene.”

“What is this gene everyone’s been talking about?”

Any response she might have had was lost in a surge of noise from the ring at the head of the ramp and a voice over the PA. “Chevron one, encoded. Chevron two, encoded.” The voice rattled off numbers as the inner track of the ring rotated and glowing chevrons around the outer track illuminated one at a time. When the final one lit, number eight, there was a roaring sound and a wall of water emerged through the ring before settling into a vertical sheet.

“Wow.”

Dr. Stefani grinned over at him. “First time?”

”Um, yeah.”

“It looks worse than it is. This way.” She walked up the ramp and without flinching stepped into the wall of water and vanished. He blinked, watching the men with the medical equipment follow her. Right. They didn’t look worried, so it must be safe. Taking a deep breath, he followed them through the wall of water.

* * *

Ben emerged from the wall of water in a completely different location, and if you asked him later he would never ever admit that his first thought had been to thank God that he hadn’t eaten breakfast. He blinked, looking around the brightly colored room that was such a brilliant contrast to the one he’d left. He peered around, any pretense of appearing casual and blasé blown out of the water by the stunning architecture and stained glass windows. He was brought out of his reverie by a loud noise at his back and the ceasing of alarm klaxons he hadn’t even realized were blaring in the background.

He walked down the steps cautiously, following Dr. Stefani and the corpsmen as they moved confidently across the room. His attention was drawn to a woman in a red shirt who was descending the main staircase. At first glance, she was talking to herself; as she approached he realized she wore a miniature headset of some kind. As she drew nearer, he caught her sign off, “Weir out.” Well, that answered one question. He shifted the bag of coffee. “Dr. Weir, I presume?”

She nodded, a cautious smile on her face. “That’s right.”

“In that case, this is for you. Compliments of General Landry.” He handed her the bag of coffee, and was rewarded with a broadening of her smile. It was still wary, but that would change. He’d met very few women whom he didn’t get along well with. Especially beautiful women, and she was that. He wondered how she’d ended up running a military base; she looked like she belonged at a dinner party. Her handshake answered part of his inner debate; her grip was surprisingly firm.

“Why am I not surprised? You must be General Benjamin–“

“Call me Ben, please.”

“All right, Ben. If you’ll walk this way we can speak in my office and you can explain to me exactly why you’re here.” She led him up the staircase and into a spacious office, setting the coffee on the desk and taking a seat behind it. She gestured to the chairs facing it. “Please, have a seat.” She waited until he was settled before continuing. “I’ll admit it; I’m curious. What brings you out here?”

He shifted in the chair, resisting the urge to slouch. He hadn’t slouched since he was eighteen years old; he wasn’t going to start now. “I’m here to meet with Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard.” He handed her the sealed envelope from General Landry. “This should explain everything."

She accepted the envelope and looked skeptical. “I see. Well, Colonel Sheppard is currently off-world; he isn’t expected back for another three hours. In the mean time, I’ve taken the liberty of assigning you guest quarters. General Landry indicated you’d be remaining until next week’s dial-up.” She tapped her headset and spoke quietly for a moment. When she signed off, the door behind him opened and a man entered wearing what seemed to be the standard uniform here in ‘Atlantis’ (he was reasonably sure that was a code name of some sort, but Dr. Weir’s comments about ‘off-world’ were making him reassess) – gray pants and a gray jacket with colored panels on the chest. “Major Lorne, if you’d be so kind as to escort General Benjamin here to guest quarters, with a stop at the quarter master’s office for a one week kit.”

Major Lorne nodded. “Of course, ma’am. If you’ll come this way, General.”

Ben cast a glance at Dr. Weir and realized that there had obviously been some confusion when they’d notified her of his arrival; he had no idea if it had been intentional or not, but he decided not to correct it for now. She would know within a few hours anyway, and an honest mistake or three never hurt anyone. Right now, sleep and food sounded like a wonderful idea. He rose, and followed the major out the door with a nod to Dr. Weir. She was watching him thoughtfully, and just as the door slid shut he saw her pick up the envelope from Landry.

He and the major were halfway down the stairs when the klaxons went off and a voice came over the PA. “Unscheduled off-world activation.”

Major Lorne tensed, and looked up at the man seated on the balcony who’d made the announcement. Ben watched with a kind of detached amazement as a squad of ten heavily armed men poured into the area in front of the metal circle – the ‘Gate’? – which he now noticed was different than the one he’d seen in Colorado – This one had glowing symbols, flashing lights, and the ‘chevrons’ were blue instead of orange. Each chevron was lighting in turn, and when the seventh had illuminated a jet of water emerged before settling into a flat wall with white crackling lines on its surface.

The man on the balcony looked up as Dr. Weir emerged from her office. “Reading Teyla’s IDC, ma’am.” He paused, head cocked to the side. “She says they’re coming in hot, and requests a medical team.”

Dr. Weir nodded. “Lower the shield, sergeant. And get Beckett up to the Jumper Bay. Did she say who was injured?” The sergeant tapped something on the console before him, Ben couldn’t tell what it was from his angle, and the white crackling lines vanished. He cocked his head to the side, obviously listening. “No, ma’am. And I’ve lost radio contact.”

Ben was startled from his observations by a hand on his arm. “This way, Sir.” When he didn’t respond quickly enough, he found himself being pulled towards the doorway. “This way, Sir.” He realized what was going on and got with the program; he might not understand what was going on specifically, but he was familiar with combat situations. Lorne was trying to get him out of harm’s way if things went south. Some kind of energy blast came flying through the wall of water and struck the wall. Apparently things were going south. That silenced any objections he might have raised, and he allowed himself to be guided through the doors and into the hallway.

Once in the hallway, Lorne released him and led him to something that even he could identify as an elevator. Lorne tapped what Ben was coming to recognize as the door release mechanism, but the door didn’t open immediately. When it did, a team of medical personnel spilled out and headed down the hallway at a jog. As the doors to the elevator (transporter, Lorne corrected him) closed, he turned to Lorne and raised an eyebrow. “That happen often?”

Lorne shrugged. “How would you define often, Sir?”

Ben grinned. He got the feeling he was going to like Major Lorne.

* * *

By the time he’d arrived at his temporary quarters, Ben had talked Lorne into explaining the various locations on the transporter’s map and giving him a basic briefing on what he now understood to be called a “Stargate”. It was fantastical stuff – Aliens, intergalactic travel, genetically activated technology – never mind that if what Lorne was true (and there was no reason to doubt him), this city itself was over ten thousand years old. He also convinced Lorne to share his opinions on John, or at least as much as he was professionally comfortable. The man was obviously protective of his CO; either that, or he was concerned that Ben was there on a witch-hunt. Regardless of his motivations, Lorne spoke highly of John, and what he didn’t say spoke just as clearly.

The quarters themselves were spacious, similar in decoration to the rest of the base from what he’d seen. Lorne left him with instructions that a marine would be by to escort him to Dr. Weir’s office in two hours, and someone would take him on a tour of the facility at an unspecified time in the future. Ben nodded and thanked the major, then he set about investigating the rooms more thoroughly and putting away the clothing he’d been issued. There were some interesting displays that lit up when he touched them (and the fact that the sink in the bathroom was apparently mind-controlled was just cool), but nothing that was enough to hold his attention.

Having nothing better to do with his remaining two hours, he decided to try out the bed. That lasted all of fifteen minutes before he gave it up as a lost cause (the mattress was, in a word, weird) and decided to investigate the mess. The halls were surprisingly full, and he realized from the comments of passing men and women that it was first dinner-shift. He glanced at his watch, but it still read 1035 MST; apparently military bases in other galaxies had their very own time-zones on top of everything else.

He entered the mess and looked around, noting the fruit (some of which definitely wouldn’t be found at your corner grocer) laid out in addition to the service line. After a moment’s debate, and asking the advice of a passing scientist (Lorne had warned him that everyone with blue panels on their jackets was a doctor of something), he decided to go with something that looked like a purple apple. Now that the important matter was settled, he headed for the first table which had open seats. Of the four chairs, only one was occupied – a man in a science jacket who was working on a tablet of some kind. The man was obviously involved in his work, and Ben doubted he’d be disturbing him. Well, up until the man spoke, anyway.

“You’re not going to eat that here, are you?”

Ben set the apple-thing down on the table, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. “I was planning to. Is that a problem?”

“No, of course there’s not a problem, unless you have an inborn desire to die a horrible and painful death tomorrow, or possibly the day after if your luck holds really really well.”

Ben nodded. “I see. Poisonous?”

The man scoffed, still not looking up. Ben wondered how he’d noticed the fruit to begin with. “Not for you, I’m sure. But one drop of that juice my direction and Carson will be intubating me if we’re lucky. Otherwise my lungs will swell up and I’ll die and then the city will be left in the hands of Zelenka, who –OK, he’s not actually a half bad engineer, not that I’ll ever tell him that – but he’d totally get everyone killed within the week.”

Ben nodded a bit more slowly, and let a hint of a drawl enter his voice. “So you’re allergic, I take it?”

“Yes, I’m allergic. So why don’t you take your nice, deadly, citrus apple and go somewhere far away from my highly valuable brain.” There was a pause. “Why are you still here? I thought I told you to leave me in peace.”

“McKay, be polite to the nice man.” ‘McKay’ looked up at the voice, while Ben just froze. That was John. Who was apparently standing right behind him.

This was not how he’d wanted this to go.

McKay, meanwhile, had shifted his attention to John and was rattling off a litany of sins committed by the mess staff. When he paused for breath, he got an inquisitive look on his face and looked back and forth between Ben and John. Ben suppressed a wince as comprehension visibly dawned. “Wait a minute, are you two related?”

Ben heard John approaching, but it was like a train wreck in-progress – Nothing to do but wait until it’s over and count the casualties. There was a pause of this can’t be happening, and Ben suddenly felt bad for coming out unannounced. John had his own life; maybe he had no place in it anymore. He certainly hadn’t for the last fifteen years. Nothing to do about it now, though. Choice had been made.

“Dad?”

Ben shifted, and attempted an easy going smile. “Hi, John.”

John paled rather alarmingly. “What are you doing here? How did you get here?”

Ben was saved from answering by McKay, who had apparently had enough time to process current events. “Wait a minute, your father is alive? I thought you didn’t have any living family. We talked about this.”

John sounded like he was in pain, and Ben really couldn’t blame him. “Rodney, we are not having this conversation now.”

“Oh, I really think we are.”

John took two steps and gripped McKay’s arm, levering the man to his feet and ignoring the squawk this generated. “No, we’re really not. And now we’re leaving.” He nodded perfunctorily at Ben and with a muttered “General,” he was hauling the scientist out of the room.

“Well, that could have gone better.”

Ben looked around, took in the roomful of people very carefully staring at their plates, and decided he really didn’t feel like eating after all.

* * *

When a knock on the door heralded the arrival of his marine escort, Ben was more than ready to go. He’d been pacing for almost fifteen minutes by then, and any change of scenery would be a good thing. There was only so much planning he could do for his meeting with John at this point; any chances of it going smoothly had been blown clear out of the water in the mess hall. He should have known it was too much to hope for.

He trailed Lieutenant Cadman through the halls quietly, ignoring the whispers that stopped just before they would have become intelligible – News certainly got around fast, although he supposed it wasn’t every day that your CO’s relatives showed up out of the blue. He used the walk to get a better feel for the base itself; he’d been too distracted on the way to his quarters to do so earlier, and they appeared to be taking the long way to the Gate Room if his memory was anything to go by.

From what he had been able to puzzle out from the interface in his quarters, the city itself was the size of Manhattan. The expedition members were only occupying between a sixth and a quarter of the currently usable space, and there was a full 30% of the city that was currently unusable due structural damage (at least, he assumed that’s what the red sections were. He was reasonably certain that the green areas were the inhabited regions). The readouts had all been in a completely foreign alphabet; that, as much as anything else, had driven home the point that he was in an alien city. He wasn’t somewhere in the South Pacific, gorgeous balcony views aside, he was in another galaxy. It was a sobering thought. Given the odd weapons fire he’d seen in the Gate Room earlier and the behavior of the marines at the unexpected activation of the Gate, it made him wonder exactly how his son had earned that combat commendation.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

To distract himself from that enticing train of thought, he tried to strike up a conversation with the lieutenant. She’d seemed friendly enough when she’d introduced herself, even if he had been a bit self absorbed when she’d shown up at his door. “Lieutenant – Cadman, was it?” She nodded, but didn’t turn to meet his gaze. “What can you tell me about Dr. McKay?”

She stopped dead in her tracks, but recovered quickly. Apparently he’d hit a nerve. “What do you want to know, sir?” There was an edge to her voice that definitely hadn’t been there earlier.

He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I ran into him in the mess, he seemed a bit…” He tried to think of an appropriate word that fell within the spectrum of polite and failed.

She seemed to relax, and he wondered what the history was there. “Imperious?”

Ben smirked. “That works. I take it he’s got a reputation?”

“You might say that, sir.”

He was saved from another failed attempt at conversation by their arrival at a transporter. As they entered, he shot her a curious glance. “Was there something wrong with the one in the residence wing?”

“It was down for repairs, sir. It blew a few crystals out twenty minutes before I arrived at your quarters – It should be up and running again in a couple of hours.”

“Of course it did.” They emerged in the hallway outside the Gate Room, and he paused for a moment. “I can find my way from here, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed.” She saluted crisply, and left as soon as he returned it with an ‘aye aye, sir.’ He shook his head at her retreating back. Marines.

He entered the Gate Room just in time to see John disappear up the stairs towards Dr. Weir’s office, and any amusement vanished. He squared his shoulders and ascended the staircase, hoping the unpleasant feeling in his stomach was a result of that citrus apple. Somehow, he didn’t think so.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he caught a glimpse of John and Dr. Weir in an obviously heated discussion; it didn’t take a genius to guess the topic of conversation. He gave it a moment’s consideration, and decided that there was no painless way to do this. With a glance at the sergeant who was staring at his laptop a little too intently to actually be doing anything, he raised his hand to knock when the door opened of its own accord. He looked between the now empty doorway and his hand twice before he walked in with a shrug. It must be that gene thing he’d been hearing about.

When the door slid closed behind him, Dr. Weir and John seemed to realize he was there. “General Sheppard.” John came to attention fast enough that Ben was worried he was going to sprain something.

“Dr. Weir. John.” He paused. “For God’s sake, John. Stand easy.”

Dr. Weir moved to stand, but John raised a hand to stop her. “Don’t bother, Elizabeth. The General and I have nothing to say that can’t be said in front of an audience. This won’t take long.”

She looked between them, and he could see the wheels turning as she evaluated their body language and what she knew of the situation. She nodded slowly and settled back behind her desk, concern visible on her features. Ben couldn’t blame her. “If that’s what you’d prefer, John…”

John was still standing at attention, staring carefully straight ahead. Ben wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his son hold the pose for this long, and he wished again that he’d known about the disciplinary hearing. “What did you need me for, sir?”

Ben fought down a wince; they could play it this way, but it wasn’t going to be pleasant. “I want to talk about the past, John.”

John’s gaze flickered for a moment, before it focused upon the wall behind Dr. Weir again. “It’s Lieutenant Colonel, sir. And there’s nothing to talk about. Sir.”

“Yes, Lieutenant Colonel, I think there is. Give me a chance to makes things right, here.” He cast a glance at Dr. Weir; despite his son’s obvious comfort with her, he wasn’t willing to discuss family matters with an audience. John knew it, too.

“If there’s nothing pertaining to my standing orders, Sir, request permission to be dismissed.” John’s jaw was visibly clenched, and Ben knew his own was not far behind. Ben spared another glance at Dr. Weir, and knew there was only so far he could push this right now. He had to admit, John was definitely better at social maneuvering than he’d been the last time they’d seen each other. Not that either of them had been at their best in the days after the funeral.

He sighed. “Dismissed.”

John spun on his heel and was out the door before Ben could say another word. Crossing his arms, Ben turned back to Dr. Weir, who looked thoughtful. “Where will he go?”

He knew he was treading thin ice, she couldn’t be pleased that he’d allowed her to be blindsided as to his relationship with John. After a moment, she pulled out a stylus and tapped the surface of her tablet. “You said you wanted to make things right between the two of you; how serious are you about that? I don’t know the details, and I don’t want to – That’s John’s business. But I do know that I was the only member of the expedition who was aware that he had any living relatives, and we’ve all been through a lot together.”

“Dr. Weir, one of the biggest regrets of my life was not making peace with my father before he died. He was my age when he died, and I don’t want to do that to John. We haven’t seen each other since his mother died; I don’t want that to be his last memory of me if something happens.”

She nodded slowly. “Thank you for being honest; we’ve learned the hard way that we have to protect our own here. General Landry spoke highly of you, so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt. John’s probably in his quarters – Normally I’d say one of the gyms, but Ronon and Teyla are on the mainland, so he doesn’t have anyone to spar with. He’s the first door on the left in the command wing.” She paused, and he was suddenly very aware that this was a woman who ran a military outpost in another galaxy. “General… Don’t make me regret this.”

He nodded, equally serious. “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

* * *

It was less effort than he had thought it would be to find John’s quarters. He spent a few long minutes standing in the hall and debating whether this was the right thing to do. Eventually he grew annoyed at himself and took the last two steps forward and knocked on the door.

When it opened, it wasn’t his son who greeted him. It was McKay, the obnoxious scientist from the mess hall. Ben opened his mouth, and then shut it – unsure of what to say. After a moment, his mind came to the logical conclusion that he’d knocked on the wrong door. McKay pre-empted his apology by crossing his arms and glaring. “He doesn’t want to see you.”

Ben blinked; apparently this was the right room. “I’m sorry?”

Ben was pretty sure the look on McKay’s face could have curdled milk. “I said 'he doesn’t want to see you.' That means leave.”

“Now wait just a minute. I have spent the last week in transit trying to find my son. I’ll be damned if I’m not going to at least speak to him.”

McKay’s expression shifted from surly to indignant. “You have spoken with him. Twice. I would think that would suffice.”

Ben was ready to seriously rip into this guy (and really? Who was McKay to be making statements on John’s behalf, anyway?), because they might still be estranged but he was John’s father. Before he could take the initiative, however, John’s voice came from somewhere within the room. “It’s ok, Rodney. He’s not going to let it go, might as well get it over with.”

McKay looked ready to argue, but apparently thought better of it. “Fine. I suppose you don’t want me to stick around for the fireworks, either?”

John appeared behind McKay, and placed a hand on his arm. “Not that I don’t appreciate the thought, but I think I’ll pass.”

Something in McKay’s expression softened, and something clicked in Ben’s mind. Oh. Oh. Huh. Never saw that coming. That was definitely something to think about later; presuming John was speaking to him later, of course. One thing at a time.

John looked up, and his face hardened. “Rodney, why don’t you head down to the lab and make sure Novak hasn’t stolen your chocolate again. Dad and I will be fine.”

McKay looked skeptical. “If you’re sure…”

John pushed him out the door. “I’ll call you if there’s a problem.”

McKay left, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like “Yeah, right. When Hell freezes over.” Ben raised an eyebrow at the comment, sounded like John hadn’t changed so much after all.

“Well, if you’re coming in, get in here.” Ben obliged, and John turned and walked over to the window on the far side of the room. “Seriously, what the hell are you doing here?”

Ben shrugged. “I told you, I want to make things right.”

John snorted. “You didn’t tell me mom was dying until she was dead, how exactly do you make that right? I obviously didn’t matter enough to warrant a phone call back then, what’s changed?”

Ben sighed, and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Can I sit down? This might take a while.”

John shrugged. “Be my guest.”

Ben sat on the bed, shifting as his right knee decided that wasn’t the greatest idea ever. It gave him a distraction, which he desperately needed right now. “How much do you actually know about your mother’s death?”

* * *

“How much do you actually know about your mother’s death?”

John moved to lean against the wall, crossing his arms. “What you told me at the funeral – That it was ovarian cancer, late stage. Am I supposed to know something else?”

“No, no, I guess not. I wasn’t… I know I wasn’t what you needed then, and I’m sorry. All I can say is that I was hurting too.” Ben focused on the wall beside John’s head, carefully keeping his voice neutral and detached. “Remember how after the wake you asked me why I hadn’t called or written or had you pulled stateside?” In his mind, he could see it like it was yesterday; the anger and grief and pain all bubbling under the younger John’s attempts at control.

John scowled at the floor. “I remember. I also remember you saying that everything wasn’t about me. She was my mother, it sure as Hell was about me.”

Ben nodded; he didn’t have the energy for this fight again. “I know, and I’m sorry. But you should know, it wasn’t… I mean, I didn’t…”

He looked up and found that John was staring at him. God, he felt like a fool. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like it did. She was supposed to have six weeks; that’s what they told us. I was going to call you that weekend. The next thing we knew she threw a clot and she was just gone. I didn’t know how to handle it; I mean, I’d watched men die in the field, but this was so different. And then you were there and angry and you had every right to be and I didn’t know how to make it better.”

John shifted against the wall, sliding down until he was seated on the floor, a conflicted expression on his face. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Ben shrugged half-heartedly. “Back then? I didn’t want to believe she was really gone. After the funeral you left, and I didn’t know how to bring it up. You wouldn’t return my calls, and then you went in for SERE training and it wasn’t something I could put in a letter. You didn’t want anything to do with me, and I respected that. I thought it was the least I could do.”

“So, what, you just had an attack of conscience after fifteen years and thought you’d tell me what a jerk I’d been?” John’s voice was bitter.

“No!” Ben stood up, and started pacing. “You don’t know how many times I thought about showing up and working this out, but I didn’t know how. I’m not good with…this.” He gestured vaguely, and John nodded in instant agreement.

“Yeah, I get that.” John’s head made a dull thud as it hit the wall. “I get that.” He closed his eyes, and pulled his knees up – Just like he had when he was eight and they would find him in a corner because it just sucked being the new kid in school. “So where does this leave us?”

Ben stopped in the center of the room, hands in his pockets, and turned back to face John. “I don’t know. I just… I couldn’t leave things like they were.”

John nodded, not opening his eyes. “Okay, you’ve said your piece. Seriously, it was a good piece and all, but I need some time to think about this. And by think, I mean alone.”

It took a moment for that to sink in. “Right, good.” Ben paused just inside the door on his way out. “Does this mean you’re speaking to me again, or are we going to have to do the whole ‘feelings’ talk, too? Because I’m probably worse at that than I am at this, and I’d really rather not put us back at square one.”

John opened his eyes and made a shooing motion. “Consider us spoken. You can tell Elizabeth I’m not about to kill myself over the mess you made of things fifteen years ago; I’m just going to sit here and become one with the floor for a while.”

Ben hesitated. “Can I see you again before I leave? Not to talk about anything in particular, just…”

“Dad, please. Go.”

He left.

* * *

Ben slept well that night, weird mattress and all. He woke to find the sun shining, and a quick glance at his watch showed that he’d slept fifteen hours. He didn’t feel good; he wasn’t going to feel good until there was some kind of a resolution to this. But for the first time since John’s disciplinary hearing, he felt hopeful that he could salvage something of the relationship he’d once had with his son.

It was in the mind-controlled shower (to go with the mind-controlled sink; apparently), that he allowed himself to think about the disquieting revelation he’d had the day before. Somewhere in the fifteen years of silence, John had decided he was gay.

The fact that John was gay wasn’t what bothered him. John was his own man; he had been since he’d turned six. Ben had no argument with that. Arguing with John had never gotten him much, anyway – John had still gone running in the rain in towns with no sidewalks, John had still gone to the Academy, and John had still become an SF pilot.

It was the way he was handling his lifestyle that was disturbing. John lived on a military base; he was the head of military operations for an expedition of over a thousand individuals. He was also apparently flagrantly sleeping with another man (if not living with him. Ben had honestly been too worked up to bother taking in many details in John’s quarters. He couldn’t believe his son would be stupid enough to actually live with another man, but John had always had a strange sense of risk).

He weighed the pros and cons of the situation as he dried off and dressed, and came to the unfortunate conclusion that there wasn’t anything to be done at this point. John was forty, and he’d been making his decisions for a long time now without managing to get himself kicked out of the service. Maybe there were things here he wasn’t seeing. John certainly had the head of the expedition in his pocket, if nothing else. Besides, he simply didn’t have the energy to get into a knock down, drag out fight over this (assuming, of course, that he was reading the situation correctly. There was always the possibility McKay was just a good friend in a high stress environment. OK, he couldn’t even convince himself of that one, but it was possible). He was sixty -three; he didn’t have another fifteen years to throw away on a misunderstanding.

After a moment’s debate, he decided to head to the mess for breakfast. With luck, the rumor mill would have calmed a degree. If not, well, it wasn’t his first time on a base. Everyone was grist for the mill now and again. He’d done what he planned to do when he came out here; he’d talked to John. Now he was going to do his best to relax until John was ready to talk to him.

To his relief, the transporter near his temporary quarters was operational again and it was a short trip to the mess. When he entered, he was pleased to find it much emptier than the night before; apparently he’d missed the morning rush. He grabbed a cup of coffee, some eggs (well, he was pretty sure they were eggs. They were kind of blue-ish, so he wasn’t completely certain), and another of the ‘citrus apples,’ then settled at an empty table.

He was surprised when a few moments later a woman approached his table and asked if she could join him. He motioned to the empty seats. “Be my guest.”

She smiled politely and settled across from him. “I am Teyla Emmagan.”

He offered his hand. “Call me Ben.” He studied her for a moment. “I take it you don’t know who I am?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Should I?”

He shrugged. “Everyone else seems to, at this point. Why miss out on all the fun?”

She nodded slowly. “The Atlantis rumor mill is extensive. However, I was out of the city much of yesterday and have not had a chance to speak with Lieutenant Cadman. If you would be so kind as to enlighten me?”

He grinned; it was nice that someone apparently didn’t think he was some life-sucking bureaucrat at first glance. Well, to be fair, Dr. Weir had been perfectly civil to him before it had all gone to Hell. And Major Lorne had seemed like a nice guy. But even before his name had hit the rumor mill (along with, he was sure, about sixteen exaggerations of the encounter in the mess hall, some probably including violence and others involving emotional and teary greetings), there was a very distinct feeling of ‘outsider’ directed his way. This was obviously an incredibly tightly knit community.

“As I’m sure Lt. Cadman will inform you, I am John Sheppard’s evil and heartless long lost father.”

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. “I cannot imagine that to be true. If you are indeed Colonel Sheppard’s father, you must be a man of admirable qualities to have raised such a fine son.”

Ben snickered. “You’d be surprised.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Do you know him well?”

She nodded. “My planet, Athos, was the first world your people visited upon arriving in the Pegasus Galaxy. During the initial meeting, a culling occurred and I was captured along with several others. Colonel Sheppard rescued us, and in so doing woke the Wraith. He insisted that our people be allowed to settle in Atlantis; my people owe him a great deal.”

“The Wraith?”

“You have not heard of the Wraith?” He shook his head, puzzled. “I forget, on occasion, that there are those who have not at least heard of the Wraith.” She took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. “The Wraith have been our enemies for as long as my people can remember; as long as any we have ever encountered can remember. They are a race of monsters who feed upon us, draining years from our lives when they do so. Dr. Weir tells me that it was the Wraith who drove the Ancestors from our stars, leaving their city empty for millennia before the expedition arrived.”

He nodded slowly. “So. They’re the bad guys.”

“They are the enemy, yes.”

“And my son woke them up?”

She shifted uncomfortably, staring into her teacup for a moment before answering. “Colonel Sheppard believes in doing what is right, no matter the cost. It is an honorable ideal. In attempting to save his commanding officer’s life, he killed the keeper of the hive holding us prisoner. That is what led to the great awakening.” She looked up, and met his gaze. “Were I in his place, I believe I would have done the same thing.”

“Teyla.”

“I am here, Ronon.”

An impressive-looking man with dreadlocks and a nasty looking pistol strapped to his thigh crossed the room towards their table. He peered at Ben for a moment before crossing his arms and taking up a position just behind Teyla’s chair. “Who are you?”

She placed a hand on his arm, and there was a definite warning tone in her voice when she spoke. “Ronon. This is Ben Sheppard.”

Ronon narrowed his eyes. “Sheppard, huh?”

“That’s right.” Ben stood and extended his right hand. Ronon stared at it for a long moment before shaking it.

“Ronon Dex.” Ronon then proceeded to ignore him completely in favor of Teyla. “You ready to go?”

She rose smoothly, and Ben realized for the first time how muscular she was. “I would like to speak with you again, General Sheppard.”

He shrugged. “I’d like that too. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

She smiled and bowed her head, then departed with Ronon. He finished the last of his coffee, left the eggs, and departed as well. He had nothing but free time on his hands at the moment; maybe he’d see if he could track down that tour he’d been promised.

* * *

The next few days passed quickly for Ben Sheppard, despite the fact that they were twenty-eight hours long instead of ‘Earth standard’ twenty-four (he’d given up looking at his watch on his second day in Atlantis – It just became too confusing). If nothing else, he was catching up on sleep at an unprecedented rate.

He was also slowly gaining a feel for life in the city. After their initial cold shoulder wore off (it had taken two days to do so, and he rather thought Teyla might have had something to do with it), the people in the city were pleasant, if wary. He learned very quickly that the fastest way to shut down a conversation was to ask about his son, so instead he found himself learning about the world in which John now lived. He learned about the ATA gene (the gene Dr. Scott had mentioned; Ben was surprised to learn that John had the strongest natural manifestation of it they’d ever seen), Stargates, interplanetary commerce, the Ancients… It was enough to make his head spin.

The really insane thing was that if John’s record was accurate (well, aside from the whole Antarctica thing), he’d been out here for almost five years. His son had been living on another planet for five years, and he hadn’t had a clue. He kept getting little glimpses of things beneath the surface, of what life was really like out here. He’d be talking to a scientist about the Wraith (the more he learned, the more he wished he hadn’t) or Ancient Technology (buyer beware!), and then he’d ask the wrong question and they’d just shut down with a haunted look on their face. Everyone seemed to have lost someone out here; even the civilians spoke about the losses in a casual manner he hadn’t seen since he’d lived in a war zone.

He hadn’t thought this was a war zone, energy blasts following his arrival not withstanding. It was possible he had been mistaken.

* * *

The evening of his third day in the city, he surprised when Dr. McKay approached him in the mess. “General Sheppard. I need to talk to you.”

Ben blinked and looked between his half-empty tray and the obviously agitated scientist with very possible ulterior motives. “Now?”

“No, Sunday afternoon at three. Yes, now.”

“Right. Of course. Just let me…” Ben picked up his tray and disposed of the remnants of his dinner, acutely aware of McKay’s impatient gaze as he did so. Having finished, he turned and made a ‘by your leave’ gesture. McKay harrumphed and strode towards the doors.

“Coming?”

Ben followed, unsure of where this was going but having heard enough about McKay to know that he really didn’t want to piss him off if he could help it (never mind that his son was (probably) sleeping with the man). They ended up in the science labs, and McKay showed him into an office.

“So, seriously, why are you here?”

Ben raised an eyebrow and leaned against the wall next to the door. “Is there a reason I’m discussing this with you?”

McKay crossed his arms. “Listen, General, whatever you talked about obviously affected John. I live in this city. That means it affects me. Atlantis gets pissy when her favored son is off sulking on the mainland.”

So that was where John had disappeared to. He’d been wondering why he hadn’t run into him since their discussion that first evening. “All right…”

“I want you to fix whatever it is you did, and get him back to normal. He hasn’t been this withdrawn since he turned into a bug – Not that he was withdrawn exactly. Well, afterwards he was for a while, but he was just kind of uncontrolled before Beckett figured out how to fix him. But that’s not the point! The point is that you obviously talked about something messy. You want that to be your ‘family business’? Fine. But it’s affecting everyone, so now I get a say.”

“I came here to apologize, ok? To say that I was sorry I fucked things up fifteen years ago. I didn’t come here to start world war three or take over your base or air John’s dirty laundry. You seem to be doing that just fine. I came out here hoping that I could make things right. Now, maybe that was the wrong call, but it’s been made.”

McKay’s cheeks turned red, and his voice went up a definite notch or two. “I’m doing what just fine?”

Ben took a deep breath, and sincerely hoped John would honor that request to speak to him again. “My son. Is military. Career Military. I don’t give a damn if you’re sleeping with him – Hell; you’re probably more stable than some of his choices over the years. I just care that you’re going to get him kicked out of the service.”

“Kicked out of the – Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea what goes on here, or have you spent the last three days in a box??”

“Um.” This was not going how he had thought it would. Not that he’d planned to get into a shouting match with his son’s lover (he’d given up that debate) when he’d shipped out for Antarctica, but still.

“General Sheppard. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we are in a war zone here. We have real, live, genuine space vampires trying to kill us. We run into things like super-volcanoes, nanoviruses, and glow-in-the-dark Amish on a weekly basis. Do you think people care who we sleep with? Hell, we have an annual closed vote on whether we’re going to secede from Earth ever since half of us became permanent residents.”

He gaped for a moment before recovering. “No. I, uh, didn’t know.” He finished processing the rant. “Hey, wait, what do you mean ‘permanent residents’?”

McKay rolled his eyes. “Didn’t they tell you anything before they shipped you out here? Wait, don’t answer that. Of course they didn’t. We’re lucky if the new rotations come in having heard of the Wraith. Not that it’s a problem - Unless we want them to live more than six months, at least. But hey, what’s a few dead scientists here and there, right?” His voice was bitter. “Oh, right, the ‘permanent’ status thing. Turns out if you get the gene therapy and it takes, and you spend more than 2 years here, you can’t leave. Well, you can leave; you just die horribly or spend a year and a half in Antarctica. Me? I’ll take Atlantis over Antarctica any day, but I have an unhealthy attachment to being alive.”

Ben nodded slowly. “Right. I take it that my son’s gene makes going back to Earth hazardous for him as well?”

McKay nodded. “Yes, yes. Migraines, nausea, dizziness, vertigo forever and ever, et cetera. Bad trade-off for good pizza, eh?”

“Yeah. Wait, vertigo? That means…” Ben trailed off, eyes widening as comprehension dawned.

“Exactly. He’d never fly again, unless he wants to do it in Antarctica. And he’s got twenty in; he’d retire before he’d take a desk job somewhere. So regs? Not so much of a concern. Happy now? Just – You go hunt down your wayward genetics with deviant hair – and where did that come from, by the way, because it’s certainly not from you – and engage in whatever macho male military bonding rituals you need to in order to get him back to normal. Or, well, normal for him. If you can scale down the suicidal impulses and need to flirt with anything that ever ascended? That would be a nice bonus.”

Ben blinked at the abrupt change in attitude. “Um, ok?”

McKay gestured and the door slid open. “Well, off you go. I’m sure if you go down to the Jumper Bay someone can tell you how to find him.”

“Right, I’ll just go…”

McKay settled behind the desk and activated the laptop located there, obviously considering the conversation over.

Still in a mild state of shock, Ben left the room. He stopped the first person he encountered, a man with a science jacket and a thick Eastern European accent, and acquired directions to the Jumper Bay.

He really hoped he was doing the right thing.

* * *

The Jumper Bay, it turned out, was located just above the Gate Room. Ben was surprised that he had missed it on his initial tour, but there had been than incident on the East Pier his escort had been forced to abandon him for. Something involving the star-drive system – He hadn’t pressed for details at the time. Star-drive had sounded like it might be a bit heavy on the engineering for his tastes, and he’d learned (after three days) that if it sounded out of his depth in passing it really wasn’t worth asking about.

Ben entered the bay cautiously, having been informed that John should be doing post-flight checks following his return from the mainland. Stepping out into the center of the bay, Ben quickly spotted his son and the ‘Jumper’ he was currently unloading. He cleared his throat, and John looked up, startled.

“John.”

John blinked. “Dad. I, uh…” He looked around, and cocked his head to the side. “How’d you get in here, anyway?”

Ben shrugged. “Tech thought you looked lonely, pointed me this direction.” John looked skeptical. All right, so Ben would admit that was just a little lame. “Had a discussion with that friend of yours, McKay. I was informed that you were sulking on the mainland and needed your old man to straighten you out. Thought I’d do my best.”

“Right.” John paused, considering something, and then turned back to the Jumper. He paused at the rear hatch, but didn’t look back. “Coming?”

Ben startled. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Well, you came all this way – Might as well give McKay something to talk about.” John settled in the front of the craft, tapping various locations on the console too quickly to follow. “Take a seat, and I’ll show you what this baby can do.”

Ben hesitantly slipped into the co-pilot’s seat and watched in silence as they first hovered and then rose through the roof. He tried not to gape (he had his dignity. Really), but he was awed by the smooth movement and obvious speed of the craft. After the awe wore off, he realized that his son was never going to be the one to end the awkward silence in the Jumper (and really, Ben was just as happy to play the ‘what fifteen year cold war?’ game until he died). Wanting to at least make some pretense that everything was ‘just fine, thanks,’ he went with the first thing that came to mind. “So… Puddle Jumper?” John nodded, a hint of a smile flickering across his features. “I’m going to take a wild guess that it was your suggestion?”

John released the controls and shifted to face him. Ben was going to go out on a limb and assume there was an auto-pilot. “Yeah. Ford wanted to go with ‘Gate Ship’, but I won that one. Rank has its privileges and all that.” John smirked, but it faded quickly.

Ben knew he shouldn’t ask. He knew he shouldn’t. Oh, Hell, he’d never been very good at the whole self-control thing (that’s how they’d ended up with John to begin with; Kate had wanted to wait until he made Captain before they had kids). “I, uh, haven’t met Ford.”

John blinked, and Ben could see the wall going up. He knew that look; he’d seen it in the mirror for years after Vietnam, and he’d been one of the lucky ones. “He went AWOL our second year out, got himself pretty messed up. I haven’t seen him in three years, but I’m sure he’s still out there.” At that moment, they broke through the cloud cover and into the upper atmosphere.

Ben jumped at the opportunity to change the topic. Old war stories led to death, which led to bad things between them. “How high can this thing fly, anyway?”

John turned back to face the windshield, and his expression changed to one that Ben hadn’t seen since John had gotten into the Academy. “It’s endo/exo-atmospheric.”

Ben blinked. “Wait, so it’s not so much ‘high’ as - ?” He trailed off. This shouldn’t be as surprising as it was; he was on another planet (as the two small moons on the ‘You are here!’ planetary display on the left corner of the windshield so helpfully demonstrated). Why wouldn’t there be actual space ships?

John smirked, clearly enjoying his shock. “Yup. Some of the planets we’ve visited even have orbiting Stargates; we use the Jumpers to reach the surface.” He patted the console affectionately. “We use the Jumpers for a lot of things.”

“It’s the gene technology I keep hearing about, I take it?”

“Watch this.” Without any visible movement on John’s part, there were suddenly a half dozen different readouts scrawled across the windshield in HUD format.

“Huh.” That was something you didn’t see everyday. Curious, he wondered what their altitude was. A new display popped up, on his side of the windshield. “Huh.”

John looked over, startled. “You’ve got the gene?”

Ben shrugged. “So they tell me.”

“In that case, you’re going to love this…”

* * *

They set down on ‘the mainland’ an hour and a half later. John had insisted on showing him how to actually fly the little ship. It had been close to ten years since Ben had flown anything, but the feel came back quickly enough. He now understood why his son had retreated to the Jumper to think. There was something wonderful about a ship that read your mind.

As they exited the Jumper they were met by one of the settlers, who introduced himself as Halling and cast a curious glance at Ben. “Colonel Sheppard, have you brought us someone else to aid us in the construction?”

John stuffed his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight uneasily. “No, we’re not going to be here that long. Just needed to get out of the city for a while.”

Halling nodded good-naturedly. “As you wish. You are welcome to join us for the evening meal, should you remain that long.”

“Thanks.” Halling turned to return to the center of what looked to be a reasonably well built village. John glanced back and forth between the retreating native and Ben before he apparently came to a decision. “Um, Halling?”

The man paused and turned. “Yes, Colonel Sheppard?”

“I’d, uh, like to introduce my dad.”

Halling smiled at Ben. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, friend.” He approached Ben and held out his hand in obvious expectation. Ben very carefully didn’t smirk at the look on John’s face when he leaned in to share a traditional greeting with the man. He had spoken with Teyla again that morning, and when they had parted she had insisted upon the gesture of good will.

Ben pulled back to find a curious expression on John’s face; he shrugged. “What, you think you’re the only one in the family who got charm? I can make friends when I want to.”

John nodded skeptically, one eyebrow significantly higher than the other. “Right…” He struck off down the beach, away from the settlement, and Ben followed. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke again. “So… How ‘bout them Yankees?”

Ben chuckled, and shook his head in amusement. “Wow. Is the list of things we can talk about really that short?”

John shrugged. “We could try football, but I haven’t been catching the broadcasts lately; I don’t suppose you follow Athosian Stick-Ball?”

“You know, I’m kind of trying to kick the Stick Ball habit. It’s murder on the knees and all.”

That had the intended result of getting a laugh out of John. Things weren’t hopeless, at least. They walked down the shoreline in a surprisingly companionable silence; it was warm, but not hot – Perfect weather for a casual stroll. Ben was surprised when John broke the silence, his voice barely audible over the waves.

“I get it, you know? I wouldn’t have back then, not really. But I do now. I forgive you.”

Ben blinked, and found that his mouth had suddenly gone dry. He swallowed hard. “So does this mean we’re…?”

John shrugged. “I guess so, yeah.”

“Right. Good.” He paused. “That guy, Halling, he mentioned food, right?”

John paused and cocked his head to the side, studying his father. “You know, you’re incredibly bad at this.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Yes, it has been brought to my attention in the past. By you, in point of fact. There was a reason your mother gave you the sex talk.”

John made a face that indicated exactly what he thought of that particular memory. “OK, so the Athosians normally have stew for their evening meal – When they’ve got the meat for it, anyway. Even if it’s not done, we can probably talk Marta into slipping us a couple of bowls early.” He paused. “Or, if you’re more comfortable with more traditional stuff the Marines keep MREs at the garrison.”

“Garrison?”

“Yeah, we keep a platoon out here to do escort duty with the scientists who live in the settlement. A couple of them have wives out here, that kind of thing. Just makes it easier for all concerned.”

“Gotcha.” Ben considered his options, for all of approximately three seconds. “You do realize that MREs were designed to be a last resort, don’t you?”

John smirked. “Stew it is.”

They were halfway back to the settlement before it occurred to Ben to ask what kind of meat they used in the stew. After a moment’s consideration, he decided that he didn’t want to know – it smelled good. End of Story.

* * *

The rest of the week flew by remarkably quickly, all things considered. The tension level seemed to drop by several degrees after he had returned from the mainland; he had seen the startled look on the Gate Technician’s face when they’d exited the Jumper bay chatting, and knew that the news of a reconciliation would have crossed the city within the hour.

Ben wasn’t foolish; he was very happy to leave well enough alone when it came to acceptance among John’s friends. He still gave McKay (who had stopped giving him death glares, thank God) a wide berth, because was just a little attached to the theory of returning home in one piece. He shared breakfast with Teyla and John in the mornings, convincing her to share stories of the man she knew as John Sheppard (and enjoying the chance to see John squirm again). His evenings were spent alone, on the balcony that opened off the guest quarters. He’d stare out at the sea and listen to the hum of the city, something he’d noticed after John had brought him back from the mainland. John said it was Atlantis herself, that the city bordered on self-aware. It was a disturbing thought, though John obviously found it comforting.

What surprised him the most out of everything he saw and learned in his last few days (due to the 28-hour-day, Atlantis used a 6 day week – It correlated directly to a 7-day Earth week, thus making a weekly correspondence easy to time), was how relaxed and content John seemed. John had never been one for settling down; he had always kept moving. It seemed while they’d been apart his son had finally grown into a man; it was a startling revelation.

Ben spent his last day in the city with his son, getting the ‘real’ tour of Atlantis. Now that they’d decided they weren’t talking about the past, things had smoothed over quickly. They certainly weren’t where they had once been, but it was a solid start. Ben had no plans of dying any time soon (and from all accounts, John had the luck of nine cats), so there would be time for more. John showed him what he called ‘The Chair’, which was apparently the heart of the city’s defense systems. He told Ben about how he’d ended up in Atlantis to begin with, back when he’d been flying choppers out of McMurdo (so that part of John’s file had been accurate; he’d thought as much. McMurdo was a great place to send someone on their way out of the service – Out of the way, isolated, and miserable weather. He’d only been there 24 hours, and he’d been more than ready to leave). There was a hint of disbelief in John’s voice as he spoke, as though he still had days he questioned his luck.

“I mean, one day? I’m flying routine supplies out of McMurdo and looking at the end of my career. The next, General O’Neill’s telling me I’ve got some mutant gene and that he wants to ship me out to another galaxy. It was really surreal. Then things went to Hell, and suddenly it made a lot more sense again.”

Ben refrained from pointing out that his son was the commander of a military base in said other galaxy wasn’t actually any better. He didn’t need to borrow trouble. Instead, he enquired about the drone weapons he had heard one of the engineers talking about, and John launched into a description of what was apparently an explosive squid.

* * *

That afternoon, he met with Dr. Weir in her office prior to his departure. She offered him coffee, “The good stuff,” she confided with a smile, and they spoke quietly. It was a refreshing change from his first experiences in the office, and he had a chance to actually take in the various artifacts and memorabilia scattered tastefully on every flat surface. When she received word that the dial-in would be commencing soon, they both stood. Before the door opened, he caught her arm gently. “I wanted to thank you, for all of your help this week.”

She smiled softly. “Not at all, Ben. We’re all pleased that things have turned out as well as they have. John’s a good man, one of the best I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. I’m glad he’s finally been given a break. Family is something most of us out here don’t have anymore; we’ve learned to cherish it when the opportunity arises.” She led him down to the Gate Room proper, and turned to offer him her right hand. “I trust that you will convey my thanks to General Landry for the coffee?”

Ben nodded. “Of course, Dr. Weir. Good luck with your amazing city.”

“Thank you, General.” She looked around curiously. “Do you want us to wait for John, so that you can say good bye?”

He shook his head. “We’re not big on good-bye in our family. Whenever we try it in public it just gets messy, so we took care of that earlier.”

“As you wish, General.” She turned. “Sergeant, dial Earth.”

“Yes ma’am. Dialing Earth.”

The chevrons lit up, one by one, and the wall of water exploded into existence. He took a final look around the room, committing as much of the fantastical architecture to memory as he could, and then climbed the steps and stepped through the wall of water and back to reality.

This time, the trip was much gentler on his system. He supposed it was something you adapted to with time. He waited at the top of the ramp for the Gate to disconnect (and the heavily armed guards to stand down; that was important, too), then descended to meet General Landry. The general escorted him to what he assumed was a briefing room and gestured for Ben to take a seat.

“So, everything go all right?”

Ben nodded. “Yes, sir. Dr. Weir sends her regards and thanks you for the coffee.”

Landry pulled over a second chair and sat down across from him. “Good, good. Glad to hear that. Anything I should know about?”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

Landry shrugged. “You’re not part of the standard annual inspection; you’re more likely to have seen or heard things that we might not otherwise catch wind of. Your record indicated that you have a strong sense of duty, so we thought you’d make a good choice to fly below the radar, so to speak.”

Ben nodded slowly; he should have realized they wouldn’t just send him out of the goodness of their hearts. He just couldn’t believe they hadn’t sent him in with at least a basic briefing if this was their intended objective.

“So, I’ll ask again. Is there anything I should be aware of? Blatant disregard of regulations? Undue alien influences? Anti-Earth sentiment, perhaps?”

Ben felt himself involuntarily stiffen up at the implications in the words. “No, Sir. I saw nothing of the kind. All I saw were good men and women doing their jobs.”

Landry frowned at him. “Don’t get me wrong, Sheppard. I’m not out to undermine Atlantis. I know they’re good people. I’m just asking if there’s anything we should be on the look-out for.”

“Nothing that I saw, Sir.” Ben felt sick, and he wasn’t sure if it was the line of questioning or the fact that he was lying to a superior officer. It was quite possible it was both.

Landry nodded. “In that case, you’re dismissed. We’ve arranged transport back to Randolph for you, and notified them of your ETA. You’ll be leaving Peterson this afternoon. The airman outside the door can aid you in retrieving your personal possessions.” Landry extended his right hand, and after a moment Ben shook it firmly. “I really am glad that things worked out for you, Sheppard.” He paused a minute, and cocked his head. “Hey, you’re not related to Alan Sheppard, the astronaut, are you?”

Ben nodded. “Second cousins, sir.”

Landry looked thoughtful. “Huh. Makes sense, I guess.” He was out the door before Ben could ask what, exactly, it was that made sense.

* * *

The return trip to Randolph went smoothly, and for the first time in years Ben found himself itching to be behind the controls of the plane he was traveling in. He grinned at the sudden attack of white-knuckle. Obviously, the Puddle Jumper had done something to his comfort level as a passenger; he had to admit, once you’d been in a ride that smooth, a standard jet just seemed shaky.

After arriving, he settled back into the routine of training up the new kids. There was something soothing about listening to the instructors bitch about the new batch of flyboy-wannabes in the staff lounges. Once a week, he’d receive an Email from John – He assumed they were the result of the weekly data-burst. He wrote back, and he was pleased to find that the words came easily. They discussed people he had met in Atlantis, old friends John had known before his mother’s death – little things that wouldn’t upset the censors. They kept up a regular correspondence for almost three months without a break.

First, John missed a week. That was fine; Ben knew things must get hectic out in Atlantis. Then two weeks went by, and still no Email. When three weeks had passed, Ben began to worry. There had been no official notification of death, not even a call from General Landry. So John wasn’t dead; God, he hoped not, at least. But something had happened.

He spent two days on the phone before he finally got a hold of General Landry – Apparently there was sort of a crisis at the SGC at the moment. In the end, he was forced to leave a contact number with a desk sergeant and assured he’d have a response within twenty-four hours. It was 2200 when his cell phone finally rang.

“General Sheppard?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m glad you found the time to return my call.”

“What can I do for you, Sheppard?”

“What’s happened to my son, General?”

There was a pause, and Ben braced himself. Pauses were never good.

“General?”

“I don’t know, Sheppard. That’s the problem.”

“Sir?”

“Atlantis cut ties with Earth three weeks ago. We haven’t been able to get a-hold of them since.”

“Oh. I see.”

“I’m sorry, Sheppard. We’ll know more in another few weeks when our supply ship is scheduled to be back. Until then, it’s all up in the air.” Ben heard an alarm that sounded suspiciously like ‘Unscheduled Off-World Activation.’ “I’ll contact you when I know more, General.”

“Wait, what caused the – " There was a clicking sound, followed by the bleating noise indicating a dropped call. He sat down in shock, realization hitting hard – his son was gone; probably for good.

Gone.

At least they’d made their peace.

Epilogue:

Two years later, General Benjamin Sheppard retired from the US Air Force at the age of sixty-five. There was a party, and fanfare, and all the required accoutrements. When he arrived home from the festivities (home being the small house he’d purchased in the months leading up to the retirement and the first location he’d resided in 43 years that wasn’t on a military base), he found a man sitting on his front porch. As Ben approached, the man stood and stepped into the light.

“Hello, Dad.”

~ Finis ~

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Secondary Author's Note: Due to a certain running theme in the comments, I wanted to explain a few details of the Re-Connect Epilogue & the Memoirs Universe (Within which this is set) in general.

The Epilogue
John is visiting his father; he's not there to stay. Due to some constants that I've woven into the Memoirs Universe, the greater future that this story is set within, if John were to move back to Earth it would be a very painful process (Not fatal, because he's a Natural ATA Gene Carrier, but painful).

The Memoirs Universe
The reasoning behind the problems suffered by the Artificials (Those who received the gene therapy and had it stick) upon attempt to move back to Earth is simple. To interact with Ancient Technology, the body produces a specific neurotransmitter. The more you use the tech, the more your body burns and thus produces. After 2 years in Atlantis, the body is accustomed to producing large quantities of the neurotransmitter (We'll call it ATA-S). This isn't a problem, because it's being burned off in daily interactions with the city. You take someone out of the city, away from Ancient Tech of any kind, and suddenly the ATA-S is being produced but not burned off. Artificials don't possess the genetic coding controlling reabsorbtion that Naturals do. After 3 weeks, the levels become toxic in the Artificials and you have various neurological symptoms - Psychosomatic Disabilities, Severe Headaches, Disorientation; and also a Severe Skin Rash (Due to the high interaction with the dermus involved in tech utilization).

Within 6 weeks, the Artificials are dead. Naturals survive, but it's a horribly painful step-down process. Artificials can be successfully stepped down, but it requires 12-24 months, depending on the initial length of exposure to the technology. Step-Down is generally conducted at Terra Atlantis (Antarctica). Children who receive the therapy are not so lucky; there has never been a successful step-down conducted on someone who received the therapy (and it stuck) before the age of 16 due to changes that occur during the development of the nervous system.

Any Questions?