"Home is Where the Heart Is" (3/6)

[kristen999]

Title: "Home is Where the Heart Is" (3/6)
Authors: everybetty and kristen999
Word Count: 55,000-
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Some violence and a couple f-bombs
Genre: Gen. Drama, Action, H/C
Characters: Sheppard, McKay, Ronon, Teyla, Todd, various SG-1 members and OCs.
Summary: Atlantis is back on Earth; things should be quiet and boring, light years away from Pegasus. While trying to find a place in this new life, John struggles with politics, a pending promotion… oh, and a deadly conspiracy that threatens the lives of everyone on Earth. Again. John POV, Post-EATG.


Notes: This was written for susnn for her very generous donation to help_haiti.


“Previous Chapters”




------

John rounded the corner, his team at his heels. Two Marines with M27s outside the entrance to the holding cell nodded their respect to him, leaving their hands where they belonged. Wrapped around their machine guns.

Lorne stood next to Dr Lam and two corpsmen where they knelt on the ground over the lifeless bodies of Martinez and Garrison. Even from here John could see the men’s necks were canted at a wrong angle.

Lorne looked up at their entrance, strode over, his face grim. “Sorry for the text, Colonel, but I didn’t want the alert put out over a potentially open line. General Landry got the same text if it makes you feel any better.”

“Understood, Major.” John’s eyes scanned the two dead Marines, over to the cell now open and empty, then back again. “He didn’t feed,” was his quiet observation.

“Not yet, no, sir. But, if he’s planning on absorbing any of our firepower he’s gonna have to eventually.”

“What’s our status?”

“Level One. We’ve locked down all surface entrances and exits, posted guard at the ventilation shafts, shut the iris down tight and rerouted all the gate controls to Area 51.”

“We can do that?”

“Ever since the hive ship, yes, sir. Protocol set up to shift remote gate dialing control to any number of locations, depending on the threat. Colonel Carter and Walter’s pet project the last few weeks.”

“Sounds like you’ve got things well in hand, Major. Except, of course, for the whole Wraith on the loose thing.”

Lorne’s expression darkened. He took a breath, met John’s eyes with a hard gaze. “It shouldn’t have been able to happen, Colonel.”

Not the reply John was expecting. “Explain, Major.”

“Sir, I’ve gone over this set up a hundred times. Maybe more. I’ve had geeks running escape scenarios through computer simulators, had experts who designed Supermax prisons go over the blueprints. The more antsy Todd got the more paranoid I got. There was no way he could escape.”

“But he did!” Rodney broke in, fuming.

John just nodded. There would be time enough for figuring out how and laying blame if there was any. He trusted his XO’s opinion. Todd was gone and getting him locked back up was his only priority. “Well, he did,” John replied with a small, reassuring smile to his clearly self-recriminating second. “Only job we have right now is retrieval.” He rubbed thoughtfully at the nape of his neck, thinking aloud. “We all have trackers implanted in us. Didn’t anyone think to lo-jack our most valuable prisoner?”

Before Rodney could open his mouth again Lorne shot him a look. “As a matter of fact, I did. But we’re not picking it up.”

John grimaced at his 2IC. “Glad you thought of at least.” Damnit. His reluctance to deal with Todd had left him one step behind in the whole situation. “Rodney. What do we have on cameras?”

Rodney shot another glare at Lorne, then stalked over to the guard station, booted up the computer and started typing furiously.

“When was the last time we can confirm he was here?” John asked his XO.

“Shift change about 40 minutes ago.”

John shook his head with dismay. 40 minutes may as well have been 40 days for a Wraith on the move.

“In fact, the only reason we knew he was gone when we did was one of Garrison’s buddies came by to drop off coffee.”

“He call it right in?”

“Yeah. He’s being debriefed but I talked to him. He checked to see if they were alive, called it in within seconds. We’re running an extra background check on him and the two guards just to be on the safe side.”

From behind him John heard the creak of leather. He didn’t have to turn to see that Ronon was there. The big man was practically humming with pent up energy and fury. But he had no direction for it. Todd could be anywhere in this warren of corridors and offices.

“Don’t suppose you could rig up something with the LDS, Rodney?” John asked with little hope.

The scornful look the physicist shot him said it all. “Please. After all these years of searching for Wraith, you don’t think I would’ve figured out how to scan for Wraith signature? Life. Signs. Todd is alive, ergo--”

“Yeah, I get it, Rodney. May have even heard it a time or two.”

John heard a muttered, “Well why did you ask?” But he chose to ignore it. They were all on edge. They needed to start someplace.

Before he could make the suggestion Ronon shouldered past him into the cell itself. He tossed the bean bag chair into the corner, then turned to the desk and started flinging objects off it.

“Hey, Chewie! That’s not how they do it on CSI, buddy.”

He got a growl for an answer but Ronon did start going through Todd’s meager belongings with a little more care.

“Teyla?”

Before he could ask she was moving into the cell to join the search. “If it will help us with a direction to start,” she said as she passed him.

Dr Lam stood up, brushed her knees off. “Without an autopsy, you know my findings aren’t official, Colonel…”

“I’ll take off the cuff for now, Doc.”

“Their necks were broken at the C2-C3 junction. From the directionality of the fractures, as you can see just looking at them, I’d say strong hands ripped their heads to the side in a single brute action. Death would have been almost instantaneous.”

“Small mercies, Doc,” John said quietly. “No sign of feeding at all?”

“None that I can see, but of course, I’ll do an immediate blood draw to look for the presence of the Wraith enzyme.”

John nodded, then signaled for them to take the bodies away. Sheets were draped over the lifeless forms and quickly loaded onto gurneys to take them to the infirmary. He dispatched the two guards outside to accompany her to the infirmary; they had plenty of firepower here and it wasn’t likely that Todd would voluntarily return to his hated prison cell.

“What do ya got, McKay?”

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing?”

“Nothing,” Rodney spat out as he poked angrily at the computer. “As in bubkus, zilch, nada --”

“Rodney!”

“Nothing as in the computers recorded nothing for the last thirty seven point nine minutes. As in nothing on the hard drive, nothing recorded, no keystrokes. It’s as if approximately thirty eight minutes ago someone disconnected this computer from the mainframe, all power and its motherboard. Which shouldn’t be possible.”

“Yeah, I keep hearing that, Rodney. Theories?”

Rodney wiped a hand through his hair, dropped down and ripped a panel off the front of the console. “Gimme a minute,” was the muffled reply as Rodney began digging into the computer’s innards.

“Colonel!”

He looked up at Teyla’s call. She had a glint in her eye and he rushed over.

On the floor, off to one side, there was a smear of silvery green and a small piece of what looked like bone.

“What the hell is that?” John asked as he stared at it. Recognition dawned as Teyla answered him. “I believe it is Wraith blood and one of his fingernails.”

“Huh. Musta ripped it off in the struggle. At least they got a little piece of him,” John continued darkly.

He cocked his head and stared at the smear, then moved his head the other way. “Something about the shape…”

Teyla was nodding as she saw his concentration. “I too thought I recognized something in it.” She didn’t elaborate. She wanted him to see it independently. To back up her theory.

He squatted without thinking, winced and grabbed his knee as it squawked at him. With a scowl he rubbed at it then eased his face closer. The blood had dried darker in streaks under the smudging. Thin and spidery, not more than a few centimeters tall. Several distinct lines forming two spindly symbols. He looked up to meet Teyla gazing back at him. She gave him a silent, confirming nod.

“It’s Wraith.”

“What? Like Todd wrote something?” Ronon asked. “Why the hell would he write something in his own blood? Why would he take the time to do it before escaping?”

John rose with a scowl, ignoring the crap his knee would give him for it. He’d always hated mysteries and had been known to flip to the back to see the solution when he lost patience and interest in a novel. That this mystery involved the deaths of two soldiers made it even more infuriating.

“All good questions, Ronon. And the questions are starting to back up. McKay! How about some answers?”

There was a smack and a muttered curse as Rodney rose, rubbing at the back of his head. “When I said give me a minute I didn’t mean it literally!”

“Well, try and pretend there’s a mad genius Wraith running about Cheyenne Mountain and that everyone’s lives are at risk!”

“Sarcasm isn’t going to help me recover data any faster,” Rodney bit back. “If there is any data to recover. I wasn’t ‘pretending’ when I said there was nothing there. I’ve tried every trick I know, and I know them all. For all intents and purposes, this computer went offline and off grid almost immediately after shift change.”

John jabbed his ear mike on. “This is Sheppard, what’s new, people?”

A litany of well-trained voices read off their status reports. Various sectors having been checked and deemed clear. No sign of the fugitive. But mercifully, no sign of any casualties, either.

“Alright, stay in pairs, keep sweeping up to down, down to up. Maybe we’ll corner him.”

“Because a cornered Wraith is extra fun,” he heard Rodney mutter.

“Sheppard, out,” he finished with a daggered glare at the physicist. “We’re wasting time here. Not only do we have to worry about the people here on base, we’ve got SG teams out there blocked from returning home.”

Ronon was fingering his blaster, literally leaning towards the door, his feet planted on the floor. “Go,” John said, releasing his hound. The Satedan left a draft in the room as he bolted out, his leather duster rustling in his wake.

“Teyla” -- He paused. “You need to be with Torren?”

She shook her head firmly. “No. I am quite confident in Kanaan’s ability to keep him safe. I am needed here.”

“Good. What kinda range do you have on your Wraith sense?”

She considered for a moment, her own hand dropping to her sidearm. He knew she itched to join the hunt, but she sighed, dropped her hand to her side. “Out here, on the move, not much. With meditation I may be able to extend my reach. Perhaps if I can enter his mind and can see what he is seeing…”

“It might help narrow down where he is. Great. Go, find a quiet place, and take a Marine with you.” At her opened mouth he added, “That’s an order. You’ll be a sitting duck while you’re zoned out.”

“All right. I will report back with my results.” She left, grabbing one of the machine gun wielding sentries from the door.

Rodney came out from behind the console, the two of them now standing in the empty cell room. “There’s nothing more for me to do here. I might have more luck if I can access one of the main terminals and figure out where the breakage in the link happened.”

He dashed a glance into the cell, stepped gingerly over the phantoms left where the two bodies had laid and into the open cage. “I think it is Wraith,” he said after studying the drying blood.

John’s eyebrows rose with surprise.

Rodney shrugged. “Spend enough time reading their operating manuals trying to free us from hive ships, crashing and or falling apart and otherwise, you pick it up. Plus all that work we did in the lab, Todd was always giving me notes in Wraith I’d have to have translated…”

“You know what they say?”

“Not the foggiest. Hello? I said I had to have them translated. You recognize Chinese when you see it, right? But can you read it?”

Before John could answer Rodney held up a hand. “Actually, I don’t wanna know, you probably do, Colonel Black Ops.”

John couldn’t but he wasn’t about to admit it. Now, Korean…

Rodney meantime had keyed his own ear radio. “This is McKay, I need a Wraith translator sent to –“ he muted his mike. “What do you call this place?”

“It was designated Holding Center Tau.”

“Tau?” Rodney rolled his eyes with realization. “T, for Todd. Cute. Your idea?”

John shrugged.

“You and the naming things.” He keyed his radio back on. “Send them to Holding Center Tau. And make it snappy.”

He gave John a smug grin. “Maybe we’ll get one of those answers you were squawking about.”

“Make it snappy?” John echoed.

“What? I’m not military. You expected on the double? An A-Sap?”

“Didn’t you say something about accessing a main terminal?” John asked pointedly.

“Hm, yes.” Rodney walked towards the door, then paused. “What are you going to be doing?”

“Evidently waiting on the translator you just ordered up.”

“Oh. Right. Well, I’ve got my beeper on me,” he said, tapping at his ear. “Page me if you get anything off Todd’s little mash note.”

His exit left John alone but for his worries and the lingering image of the two crooked-neck bodies on the floor. He fought not to be back on the radio, knowing full well if anything in the slightest had changed he’d be made aware of it immediately. A fleeting but incredibly macabre thought itched in the lizard part of his brain. Todd taking out soldier after soldier, each before they could radio in. Mowing down his people, his team, while he remained oblivious. The last man left.

He shook it off, moved back into the cell and eased, slower this time, to a squat over the symbols. Was it a taunt? A little Wraith version of eff you?

He knew how bad Todd’s situation had been. But he’d told himself he didn’t care. He didn’t waste care on Wraith. But what Todd had said, whether he’d wanted to admit it to himself or not, had hit home. The iratus bug bit had been a nice touch.

While occupied with his thoughts he was still acutely aware that there was a killing machine on the loose. At the most subtle sound of footfalls in the hall outside he stood, .45 in hand, safety thumbed off in one painful move.

A Marine stood next to a familiar woman in olive drab tee and cargo pants. As she stepped into the room he remembered how he knew her.

“Colonel, this is Dr Karen Sullivan,” the Marine introduced.

“Colonel Sheppard. I understand you needed a Wraith translation?”

“Yeah… Uh, yes. At least, I think I do. I, I’m sorry, you just took me a little by surprise.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I’ll admit Wraith was more than a little bit of a stretch after years of Indo-Aryan and Afro-Asiatic concentration.”

John blinked but continued smoothly, “I’ll bet.”

The professor smiled at that. “But I can assure you, I can provide you a proper translation of Wraith writing.”

“I’m thinking you wouldn’t be with SGC if you couldn’t.”

“I studied it in hopes of joining the Atlantis expedition one day,” she said with a sad smile.

“Well, there’s nothing like good practice. It’s over here. I’m - I’m sorry but it’s written in, uh. Blood. Wraith blood, we think.”

Sullivan’s eyebrows rose but her only comment was, “An interesting choice of medium. Let’s see it.”

Upon first glance at the letters the woman started nodding. “You were absolutely right, Colonel. It’s definitely Wraith symbolism. Written with the left hand, I’d say. The scribe was likely prone, on the floor by the angle of the characters.” She reached a finger out to touch it, then hesitated. “May I?”

John saw no reason to fear contamination of evidence - joke to Ronon or not, they were more than a little beyond crime scene investigation. He nodded, only slightly surprised to see a civilian woman dipping a bare finger into drying Wraith blood. She cleaned up the smudges, sharpening up the characters, leaving behind only the deliberate lines.

Her eyes on the symbols, she traced the first with a hovered finger. “The Wraith language is remarkably similar to our own in construction. Symbols represent sounds. The main difference, of course, is Wraith physiology allows for sounds the human mouth and larynx can’t form.”

She cocked her head, in almost the same manner John had upon first seeing the writing. “The sounds represented here don’t form any recognizable word.” She started making silent movements of her mouth, rounding her lips and stretching out her neck, then shaking her head and trying different contortions of her face and throat.

She finally looked up, defeat clear on her face. “I’m sorry, Colonel. But I don’t see that these two characters together would even start any known Wraith word.”

John took a deep breath, held it before exhaling his frustration. It’d been a long shot but it was the only clue they’d had. “Well, I appreciate your trying anyways, Dr Sullivan. It was worth a shot. I’ll have your guard recalled to take you back to a secure area.”

“I am sorry, Colonel. These characters - well they just don’t fit. They shouldn’t be together.”

John wanted to laugh at how often he’d heard that recently. It was supposed to be an impossible situation, yet here it was.

“Like I said, your efforts are appreciated,” was his offhand dismissal of her apology.

“Those sounds,” she continued, “are just - I mean, they just aren’t meant –“ then she tipped her head back and made a sound deep in the back of her throat. A raspy, choked off exhale, rounded as it left her lips. Then she opened he mouth wide and breathed out a harsh ‘yaaahhhh’.

John’s eyes widened at the sight of this beautiful woman making such guttural, alien noises.

But there was almost something…

“Are those the sounds those two characters make?”

The professor didn’t blush at being seen making such grotesque noises or having to twist her pretty features up to make them. She just nodded. Made them again. Then she studied him. “You hear something in this, don’t you?”

“There’s - there’s no way”, John protested. “ I mean, I’ve heard more than my fair share of Wraith. There’s no way though that I should be able to recognize it! It all sounds like hissing cats and backed up sink drains to me.”

“Let me try to, um… Anglicize the sounds,” the professor continued, undaunted. “The first is an aspirated velar plosive.”

John let out a short bark of laughter. “Jeez, I though McKay was bad.”

This time she did blush lightly. “ Sorry. The first is like a ‘k’ breathed out. Like the k-h in khan.” She made a k sound with breath rushing from the back of her throat. “Then it rounds as if followed by a long ’o’. Kho. The second is a close front rounded vowel, best represented by the letter y. In Wraith it is again, plosive though. Like the German word ‘ja’, but with more breath.” She tipped her head back and let out a long, harsh, ‘yaaaah.’

Then she put them together and it sent an involuntary chill down John’s spine. “I’ll be a son of a bitch,” he muttered to himself.

“You recognize the word, Colonel?”

“It’s not a word, it’s a name. Kolya.”

Sullivan shook her head. “Not familiar with it. Sounds possibly Eastern European?”

John barked out a harsh laugh. “Eastern Pegasus, maybe.”

Sullivan made a little ‘oh’ of her mouth but said nothing further, clearly waiting on John to explain further.

But the name had too many images rearing their ugly Kolya heads at him. What the hell kind of message was leaving that man’s name? In blood.

Todd’s words from their last exchange came burbling back up, had John’s heart slamming against his ribcage. “…as I slowly starve, keep reminding yourself that you are better than Wraith, or even the one who kept us both prisoner when we first met.”

Was that it? Was it really a final screw you, Jooohn Sheppard from the Wraith? Sheppard, as his captor and dungeon master, keeping him barely alive on goats and cows?

Todd had craved escape so badly he had been desperate enough to ally himself with John to get free. Why wouldn’t he take extraordinary measures to get out once again? But how? He had no one to ally with… he shouldn’t have been able to get out.

At a small cleared throat noise he looked up, startled out of his dark thoughts.

Sullivan gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but I think my work here is done, Colonel? Permission to leave?”

Strange question for a civilian. He quirked a look at her. “You don’t need to ask my permission, doctor.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, sir. Colonel.” At his raised eyebrows she chuckled. “John. Retired as a Lieutenant Commander - it’s been four years but old habits die hard.”

“Huh. Never took you for a squid.”

At this she straightened her back, matched his raised brows. “Why not? What do you look for in a squid?”

He lifted his hands in surrender. “No, no. Nothing.” Then he added, “I apologize. Old habits die hard, and all that.”

“No apologies necessary,” she smiled. “Besides, I wouldn’tve expected much better from a zoomie.”

“Point, Sullivan,” John muttered. Then he checked his watch, scowled and looked around the cell. “There’s nothing more here for us.”

“Agreed. Well, if you come across any more cryptic Wraith messages, you can reach me on my com.”

John looked over at the lone Marine standing guard, considered his value in staying behind. He sighed, ran another look over the empty, tossed cell. Technically, it was an active crime scene. Then he glanced back at Sullivan. Former Lieutenant Commander or not, now she was an unarmed civilian.

“Come with me,” he said abruptly.

“Are you expecting more cryptic Wraith messages?” she asked dubiously.

“No. It’d be nice if Todd had left a little ‘Gone fishing, back in an hour’ note but no. But I can’t spare a guard to take you back to a secure area.”

Sullivan bristled, as he’d known she would. “Colonel, I can—“

“I know, I know. I have no doubt you could kick Wraith ass if needed, but humor me?”

Her smile was tight but she answered, “Fine. Can we stop by the armory?”

“It’s on the way.”

------

John rounded the corner, this time Sullivan at his heels. She had checked out the 9mm now riding her hip with a practiced ease. If his worry for her safety had maybe been a little overblown, at least she hadn’t seen fit to rub it in.

“Please tell me you have something, Rodney.”

The physicist popped his head up from behind the computer bank, dashed a ‘what is she still doing here?’ look at John then shook his head. “I’ve run every diagnostic on the system I can, starting from the most basic up. If I could just figure out where they got into the system, but I’ve eliminated every possible entry point. To a point.”

“To what point, McKay?”

Rodney fumed. “While I was master of my domain on Atlantis, here at the SGC they haven’t seen fit to give me ultimate clearance. Of course, given enough time I’m sure I could—“

“What do you need?” John cut in.

“Access has to have been made at the very highest level.”

“Okay. I need to update Landry and I'll ask him to-“

“Higher than him,” Rodney said tersely.

“Higher than… how high, exactly, Rodney?”

“The SGC falls under the purview of Homeworld Security and the Executive Branch of the US government.”

“What, you want me to call the Secretary up, Rodney, tell her we need her password?”

“Har, har. I was thinking more locally. Like the ex Mrs Sheppard?”

“You think Nancy--?” John paused. Was she really that high up? He keyed his radio, uttered a brief command to the Marine he’d posted with her.

Rodney dove back into pecking feverishly at his keyboard.

John took the time to finally allow some of his OCD to take the reins, called in to Lorne for an update. It was actually good timing because no sooner had he gotten the rundown from his XO, when his CO was in his ear. As he gave Landry the summation of all the areas cleared it was with an odd mixture of frustration and relief. No casualties found anywhere. Since Wraith weren’t known to bother hiding the dried out corpses they left behind, it seemed a good bet there weren’t any. Yet. But why? A Wraith on the move needed energy stores. Todd hadn’t taken anything from his guards and he’d been nearly starved. A punch from Rodney could probably take him down in that state.

Just another unanswered question…

“Can I help with anything, Colonel?”

John turned to see Sullivan still there, standing in casual at ease stance. Before he could answer Rodney popped his head up. “I could use some coffee.”

“McKay,” John growled. “Dr. Sullivan isn’t –“

“Isn’t above getting coffee for a man hard at work, Colonel,” she smoothed in. “That is,” she added with a sly smirk, “if you think it’s safe for me to go get some.”

John rolled his eyes, considered the short route to the nearest break area and the memory of her nimble hands working the clip on her sidearm.

Rodney shrugged. “I really do need coffee.”

“Fine. Go, be careful.”

After she’d left, John scowled at his friend.

“What?” Rodney said innocently. “Oh, please. She’s more fit than I am and you’d let me go get coffee.”

“That’s not the point, McKay.”

“What? What, because she’s a … a she? Might I point out—“

“No, you might not,” John bit back. “She’s a civilian,” he added, then regretted the moment he saw Rodney’s mouth pop open with a useless rejoinder. “Yes, I know, Rodney - an Earth based civilian. And like you’d ever get your own coffee.”

“Point made,” Rodney sighed. “Ah, the cavalry, thank God. Sparing us from another round of witty repartee.”

Nancy came in, the Marine with her taking bodyguard to a whole new level. He was practically on top of her.

“Thanks, Sgt, I’ve got her from here.”

The Marine looked sorely disappointed but left.

“Sgt Keenan was very kind and very vigilant,” Nancy said.

“Oh, I’ll bet he was,” John remarked dryly. “Rodney is working on the security systems for the Mountain and hit an impasse.”

“A temporary one,” Rodney piped in.

“He hit an impasse,” John repeated. “And he seems to think you might have access for where he needs to go.” He said it doubtfully; he knew Nancy had been high up with Homeland but here, where she was so new …

“Of course,” Nancy replied at his dubious look. She walked over, and Rodney rose from the chair while giving John a ‘see?’ look.

Several keystrokes later Rodney’s eyes grew round. “Wow, you really do hold the keys to the kingdom!”

Nancy just smiled enigmatically, got up from the chair. Rodney immediately plopped back down and began typing, his grin growing wider by the second.

She didn’t even try hiding her somewhat smug expression as she walked over.

John bowed his head at her in acknowledgment. “You are really moving up in the world.”

Nancy’s smile turned wistful. “It hasn’t come without some sacrifices. But you know how that goes, Colonel.”

He met her gaze for a long moment, and saw for the first time a true understanding. A synchronicity finally reached some ten years after their marriage had dissolved. He figured it would also be the closest he would come to learning why her ring finger was still bare.

“Here we are, three cups of steaming hot-- sorry, sir, didn’t see you had company.”

Sullivan had entered the room juggling three waxed paper cups in her hands and arms. With the speed she’d entered with and the grimace on her face, John figured they were the usual breakroom molten sludge.

He quickly stepped over, took two of the cups from her, making his own hissing noise as he felt the burn through the cheap paper cup.

Quickly thrusting one into Rodney’s outstretched hand, John put his down and blew on his fingers. Sullivan just blew across the top of hers briefly and sipped hers down.

“No sugar or cream?” Rodney asked, a hint of whine in his voice.

Sullivan took another sip at her coal sludge. “You didn’t ask for any, Dr McKay…”

Rodney’s scowl deepened

“But,” Sullivan continued, digging into a side pocket of her cargo pants, “I had an idea you might like some.” She pulled out several white packets and mini-moos, spilled them out onto the panel in front of Rodney. The physicist smiled, mumbled something that might’ve been a thanks and started ripping into the tiny containers.

“Quick thinking, Karen,” John said with a smirk. “You averted a real tragedy.”

“Hello, need coffee to work the miracles you demand,” Rodney piped up as he stirred his concoction with his finger.

Then he saw Karen and Nancy looking expectantly at him. Oops.

“Dr Karen Sullivan, this is Nancy Beauchamp. She’s uh, with Homeworld Security… she’s…” He chewed a lip for a moment then turned to an amused Nancy. “You know I never did get your title beyond High Mistress of the Security System.”

Nancy smoothly extended a hand to Karen. “My title is still being debated before Congress but I doubt it will contain the phrase High Mistress,” she said wryly. “I’m somewhere between Secretary Clinton and- um, John,” she added brightly, with a little dig.

Karen laughed, returned the handshake. “I’m in charge of our department’s football pool. Oh, and I do a little translating on the side.”

“She speaks Wraith,” John chimed in, feeling for an unknown reason as if he had to defend her.

“Wraith?” Nancy exclaimed. “You speak it? Wow, that’ll probably get you access to things even I wouldn’t get.”

Ah, Nancy. A true diplomat at heart.

“All right, I think I’m getting something”, Rodney suddenly announced. The three of them gathered around behind him as he continued to dance his fingers over the keys.

“What do you got, McKay?”

“I’m at the top user level of the mainframe thanks to the ex-Mrs. Colonel. I programmed a snooper that’s backtracing the point that –“ He looked up and cocked his head. “Who exactly do we think did this? I mean, Todd was confirmed in his cell. I guess I never really stopped to think…” His voice got lower, softer and he glanced at those gathered. “Are we really thinking someone - one of us helped him escape?”

“Well, Rodney, everyone keep telling me there was no way Todd could’ve escaped the way he did. Only thing I can figure is he had to have had help. Since I doubt Wraith have been here in the Mountain without drawing any attention, the only other help he could’ve gotten was human.”

“What did he bribe someone? This isn’t Oz - he doesn’t get cigarettes or coupons for extra toilet paper. He manage to open a secret bank account since we got back?”

“I don’t know, Rodney,” John fumed. He hated the idea that someone with the SGC could’ve helped a cold-blooded - literally- killer like Todd out.” Maybe he used that funky Wraith mind control on them. Wraith worshippers opened a local chapter? Where’s your snoopy thing pointing?”

“Snooper,” Rodney corrected, then scowled as he realized John had done it deliberately. “And it isn’t done yet.”

“McKay! You called us over, saying you’d gotten something.”

“No, I said I was getting something. And I am. I didn’t ask you all to come and hover like a pack of vultures over my shoulder.” He reached over to grab his coffee; the addition of all the creamer had overfilled the already mostly full cup. His attention and other hand still typing, he clipped the side of the cup, knocking it over, splashing still scalding hot coffee onto Karen’s leg.

“Goh khordi!” she exclaimed as she reeled backwards with her own cup sloshing onto her hand.

John’s eyebrows rose at the expletive and he coughed out a laugh.

Karen looked up, rolled her eyes and tried to look embarrassed. “You caught that huh? Shoulda known you’d speak Dari.” She looked at Nancy. “Sorry, ma’am. I promise it was nothing worse than what you’d hear on South Park.”

Meanwhile John had pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He handed it over to Karen, leaned close to say quietly, “I sometimes call Rodney Cartman.”

She laughed, wiped the coffee from her hand, then laughed again as he declined taking back the sodden fabric.

From behind him John heard a distinct “AHEM”. He looked up to see Rodney staring at them.

“If you two are done playing When Harry Met Sally, I have our entry point. And you are NOT going to believe who it was.”


-------
John stood outside the room, his .45 out, safety off. Four Marines and Ronon who probably counted as at least two more were ready with their own armaments in front of him.

He dashed a look at Rodney, hunkered behind a black-clad soldier, staring at an LSD in one hand, the other around a probe in the door controls. Hand gestures verified one life sign, still not moving.

John gave the signal and Rodney triggered the bypass. A battering ram swung the door in on its hinges and the men swarmed in, surrounding the room’s only occupant, gun barrels leveled, Ronon’s blaster whining to full red charge.

Even with the cut and dye job, John still saw the ridiculous blonde ponytail.

“You could’ve knocked. I would’ve opened the door,” Kavanaugh said calmly from where he sat at his desk, a chess game on his lap top.

“Search him!” John ordered.

Kavanaugh was brusquely lifted to his feet. He stood still, placid smile on his face as a Marine frisked him from top to toe.

“He’s clean, sir.”

“He’s as dirty as they come,” John muttered. He eased the Beretta back into its holster.

“May I?” Kavanaugh asked casually as he gestured to the chair he’d been sitting in.

“You can stand,” Ronon grunted.

John shrugged. “You heard the big man.”

Rodney entered the room with two more Marines. He poked at his LSD, cast a glance around the room, counting its current occupants. “Just us,” he reported. “And him,” he added with distaste.

John thrust a chin at the two newest reinforcements. “Search the room.”

Kavanaugh laughed. “Yes, by all means, search. In this oh, so spacious abode the SGC has seen fit to grant me, I’m sure there are plenty of places to hide a seven foot tall Wraith.”

The closet was opened and tossed, a foot locker overturned and dumped of its contents, the bed lifted and stripped.

Rodney sat down in front of Kavanaugh’s lap top and started scanning through it.

“Where is he, Kavanaugh?”

The physicist cocked his head, gave John and up and down look. “You got here earlier than I expected. Endgame with a ten year old South Korean brat. I had mate in four.”

“Where is he?” John demanded again.

Kavanaugh rubbed his chin, loving playing the role of evil genius. “I covered my tracks pretty well, if I do say so myself.” He looked over and scowled at Rodney, then his eyes lit up. “Don’t think McKay gets to take credit for this one. I’m guessing you got a little help from the Homeworld bitch.”

John’s jaw tightened but before he could do anything Ronon reached out and belted the smarmy asshole. Kavanaugh dropped like a stone, rubbed at his jaw. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He’d always been a complete wimp, a whining sniveling coward. But he just chuckled to himself and wiped away the blood with the back of his hand. “Sorry. I meant the Homeworld c—“

Ronon growled, lunged out and hauled the scarecrow to his feet by his shirt.

“Ronon!” John shouted as the Satedan’s fist drew back.

“I’ll get answers out of him,” Ronon snarled back.

“Can’t get answers out of him if he’s unconscious, Chewie,” John said tightly. “You really think a wimp like Kavanaugh could take two of your hits?”

The physicist was putting on a good bluff but his knees wobbled; Ronon’s hand fisted into his shirtfront was the only reason he was standing.

Ronon shoved hard, flinging Kavanaugh onto the stripped mattress. “He asked you a question, dickwad.”

“Dickwad?” John asked. “You’ve been on Earth too long, big guy. But, it was a good choice.” He sighed. They could bark at Kavanaugh all day and not get any closer to finding Todd. Besides, from what John remembered, the asshole loved the sound of his own voice.

“Alright, Kavanaugh. You wanna play Dr Evil, I’ll play along. Why don’t you regale us all with your plan to take over the world. You and Todd gonna demand one meellion dollars?”

The physicist straightened on the bed, sat up and wiped his bloody hand on the mattress.

“You’ll never find him,” was his only reply.

“Oh, yeah?” Rodney piped in. “We found you!”

“I was meant to be found,” Kavanaugh sighed with exasperation. “My part in this has concluded.”

“Your part?” John repeated. “Who else is involved?”

“It was my plan,” Kavanaugh continued blithely. “Masterful, you must admit. It was my work that allowed the abomination to be taken from here.”

“Your work?” John spat. “Your work killed two of my men!”

“Acceptable casualties, Colonel. I’m sure you know they are expected in war.”

“War? What war?” John’s face was growing red; he hated being led by the nose by this smug piece of crap. He swallowed, rubbed at the back of his neck at the knot of tension there. Get a grip, John. Don’t let him get to you.

“Acceptable casualties, huh?” he tried again. “Is that what you are? You got left behind, after all.”

Kavanaugh’s eye twitched; he struggled to maintain his cool façade. “I’m not a casualty. I will be taken care of.”

“Taken care of?” John echoed with a snort. “Kavanaugh, where you’re going the only thing you’ll be getting is a small, cold cell guarded by Marines - you know - like the two you had murdered?”

The cool facade faltered and the man’s already milky pale skin went ashen. “They’re closing Gitmo,” he said with forced bravado.

John laughed harshly. “This ain’t your father’s Army, son. This is the SGC. We do things a little differently. You don’t need a Gitmo when you have the entire Milky Way at your disposal. I know the gate addresses of dozens of cold, barren planets. Or, if you prefer hot climes, a few have active volcanoes on them, just to keep things interesting.”

“I have r-rights,” Kavanaugh stammered. “This is all a bluff. You expect me to believe the legendary John Sheppard, Captain fucking America himself, would do that?”

“That’s Colonel fucking America to you,” John growled. “And you have no idea what I’ve done. Now where is Todd? And who was he working with?”

Kavanaugh’s face went sullen, like a spoiled teenager’s, lowering his gaze.

The look just pissed John off more. He stepped closer, close enough to smell the sweat now darkening the pits of Kavanaugh’s uniform. Close enough to see the flinch at his approach.

How the hell had a sniveling whiny rat like Kavanaugh managed to orchestrate such a ballsy plan? And why would he want to help a Wraith escape? The man was a coward, through and through, concerned only in covering his own ass. John’s threats weren’t totally a bluff, and Ronon… hell, John was scared of the big man at times. So where was Kavanaugh getting the backbone? Why wasn’t he spilling his guts, looking for a deal?

Then it dawned on him and his face lit with a fierce grin, showing all his teeth. “You don’t know, do you, Kavanaugh? You were just a patsy. Left behind to take the fall. Todd’s good at that, turning the tables when you least expect it.”

Kavanaugh turned his head away, tried on a sneer but he wasn’t fooling anyone anymore.

“Whatever you were paid, it wasn’t enough,” John said stonily. “And you’ll never get to spend it.”

Surprisingly, the scarecrow whipped his head up, fire once more in his eyes. “You think this is about money?” he spat. “Figures a rich asshole like you would immediately think about money.”

John was taken aback and it must’ve shown.

“Yeah, we know all about you, Sheppard. Boarding schools, sports cars, thoroughbreds… Daddy kept throwing whatever he could at you, as long as it kept you out of his sight. He was pretty pissed though when the flying lessons backfired. He’d probably have bought you a Gulfstream if you hadn’t joined the Air Force.” He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Wow, such a rebel little Johnny Sheppard was. Course the military was a natural for a bully like you.”

Ronon growled and dropped his hand to his blaster.

Kavanaugh laughed coldly. “Now you travel in a pack of ‘em. The alien thug, the monstrous ego. That bitch Weir fit right in with your little gang.”

“The only bullying I ever witnessed was yours, Kavanaugh,” John replied as evenly as he could, his heart racing at the word Kavanaugh had used. We. “I had daily reports on my desk, complaints from your department about you. We kicked you out the first chance we got.”

“Question is, whose pack did you fall in with once you got back here after the whole Midway debacle?”

Kavanaugh’s smile was triumphant. “I was immediately approached on my return. They couldn’t wait to gain access to my intellect.”

“To your insider knowledge of Atlantis, you mean,” John shot back, trying to keep the confusion off his face. They? Who the hell was Kavanaugh talking about? Todd had been on Earth under 24 hour surveillance for less than three weeks. “That’s all they wanted from you, wasn’t it, Kavanaugh?”

The blink told John all he needed to know. His own triumphant smile grew on his face. “They got all the intel they needed from you, then they convinced you how important your role would be.” He stepped closer, his eyes boring holes in the cowering physicist. “Then they left you behind.”

There was no reply so John pushed harder. “Who were they, Kavanaugh? Your powerful friends?” He chuffed a laugh. “Please don’t tell me it’s the Trust.”

“Do not even mention them in my presence, Sheppard,” Kavanaugh spat. “Our reach is broader than those alien abominations. We are Earth’s last defenders. We are legion.”

“Legion?” John raised an eyebrow. “Where are they?” He cast his arms out, made a show of scanning the room. “Where’s your legion, Kavanaugh? Cuz right now, I’m seeing one little asshole pissing in his uniform.”

The physicist snorted, one last gasp of bravado, then began gnawing on the side of his pinky.

John shook his head broadly. “That’s what I thought. Rodney? You getting anything off his computer?”

“He likes porn and World of Warcraft.”

“Anything usable, McKay?”

“Still digging through the crap, but I’m thinking no.”

John sighed, briefly considered giving Ronon a little more leash. “We’re wasting time here.” He popped his radio on. “Teyla?”

“I am here, Colonel.”

“Anything?”

“I believe I may have had a brief glimpse when I first started, but all I saw was darkness.”

“Was worth a shot. We have an update… can you meet us at Kavanaugh’s quarters, Deck 23, East wing. It’s the room with the door busted in and thick with Marines.”

“… Dr. Kavanaugh?”

“One and the same. I’ll fill you in when you get here. Sheppard, out.”

“Hunting monsters with monsters.”

John looked up, strode over and got into Kavanaugh’s face. “What’d you say?”

“Ooh, hit a sensitive nerve, Sheppard? And here I thought you were only banging that bitch Weir.”

John’s hand flung out, backhanded Kavanaugh across the face, sent the man sprawling onto the floor. When Ronon’s boot shot out, kicked him in his scrawny ass, John didn’t stop it. When that same boot now lined up for Kavanaugh’s soft belly John signaled him to stop. Ronon growled, bunched up his fists, looked ready to challenge him.

“Not worth it, buddy,” John said quietly as he flexed his sore hand.

Ronon’s eyes blazed. John knew the big man had a soft spot for Elizabeth and it cost him dearly to back off. But back off he did, wheeling about and stalking right out of the room.

“Looks like you weren’t the only one with a hard-on for Weir,” Kavanaugh chuckled through bloody lips.

John grabbed the man by his jacket, lifted him to his feet. His face so close he could feel Kavanaugh’s warm, sour, stuttered breaths on his skin. “Say one more word about Weir or Teyla… I dare you.”

“I’m done playing now. I want counsel, I want guards. I want. Away. From. You.”

“Last chance, Kavanaugh. You want hope of ever seeing daylight again, tell me where Todd is.”

Kavanaugh straightened as best he could within John’s steely grasp. “You’ll never find him.”

“Wrong, Kavanaugh!” Rodney crowed from the desk. “You’re always wrong. Wrong, wrong wrong. The monstrous ego says you’re wrong.”

“What do ya got, McKay?” John demanded as he shoved Kavanaugh away, into the arms of nearby Marine.

“Todd’s signal.”

“What- what signal?”

“His transmitter.”

“The lo-jack? You said that was blocked or something.”

“Not our transmitter -- HIS transmitter. His Wraith signal is pinging.”

“Wraith - he’s signaling other Wraith?”

“Well, he’s using it to signal someone. Sneaky bastard. We never knew he had one; it doesn’t show up on our scans, which isn’t surprising since most Wraith tech is organic in nature—“

“Rodney! Where the hell is the signal coming from?”

“Um… this can’t be right.” Rodney tapped at his laptop furiously, shook his head then sighed. “Um, he’s already a couple hours west of here.”

“Can you bring up-“

“Satellite imaging? On it.” John watched as Rodney’s fingers pounded away, saw his face fall as he looked up. “I’ve got nothing. Again.”

“What the hell are you talking about, McKay?”

“I’m talking about nothing; no images captured by any of our satellites - or our allies’, by the way, for the last three hours. Just static.”

“Come on, you have to have something? We have how many satellites are in the air?”

“Hundreds and none of them are operational! I can't get any type of visual.”

From behind him John heard Kavanaugh laughing.

Feeling a massive need to punch the wall, he balled his fists. “Then how are you tracking Todd if you can't get an image?”

“Because he pinged on my---wait a minute.” Rodney studied his laptop. “The signal's being picked up by satellites used for cell phones. My computer's jacked into the SGC mainframe and I have it scanning all communication bands. We can't get all NCIS on him, but I can track him by using cell towers like sonar.”

“Okay, plot an intercept point. We're going after him.”

“It's not that easy. He's not even on a major road.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because I've already cross-referenced all highways with his signal and no, I don't think he's in the air either. It's going to take time to figure out a pattern and then we can go chasing after him.”

John wasn't going to wait that long. “I'll get a strike team ready. Plan on being wheels up in the next hour. With a possible destination,” he added.

“Why don't you ask me to have him wrapped up in a bow?”

John stalked out of the room without replying.

******

From:Blocked
To: Blocked
Date:01.25.09
Subject: Package

The package has been secured and is en route to transfer point. We've blinded all eyes in the air for the next six hours.


E.H

*******

-------


“We had to go by chopper, didn't we?”

John lowered the volume of Rodney's voice over his headset, tempted though he was to flip it all the way off. “We need to get there fast.”

“Fast is trans-warp, or a ride on the Daedalus, or I don't know… A jumper?”

“Don't have any of those at our disposal at the moment.”

Rodney's face was a matching shade of his olive helmet, fingers white knuckling his tablet. “Yes, well, we do have jets and other aircraft that don't cause me to actually experience the physics of real turbulence. I'm going to make recreating inertial dampeners a top priority once Area 51 is up and running again.”

“We need to be maneuverable and land on a dime if we have to. Can't do that with a fixed wing,” came John's reply.

“And where are we headed? We're not one of those storm chasers. At first we thought it was Vegas and that was two hours ago. Now, we're just heading west.”

John grit his teeth. It took longer than expected to get the mission approved with the carte blanche needed to do anything on site. Including taking over a city-block if need be, which required some political back-up in the form of a certain former-Sergeant Bates. The two of them had worked well together during the last Earth emergency. Not the most pleasant of times, but Bates was good at what he did.

And that was opening bureaucratic doors and dealing with the local authorities.

He glanced at his watch and cursed. Todd had been gone for seven hours and counting.

Lorne was in a second Hawk, Sergeant Jameson in the third. They could have all loaded up in a Chinook- it was faster- but the Hawk could get them into tighter spots if need be, and it was loaded with more firepower, just in case. He thanked the fact that the SGC’d had a few Army birds hanging around.

“Hello? Anyone in Colonel Land?”

“We've made up a helluva a lot of time in the air. We're almost on top of him.” John tried staring out the front windshield from his seat.

There might have been a huff, it was hard to tell with McKay's chin strap and the roaring noise of the blades. “I'm surprised you didn't take over the cockpit as soon as we boarded. I've never seen anyone look so longingly at a set of controls before.”

“This coming from the guy who starting jonsing when his Krups was taken away.” John pointed at Rodney's laptop. “Are you keeping track of Todd?”

Rodney turned around the screen. “Of course. I can also chew gum and walk at the same time. I can multitask like that.”

One of the Marines gave the physicist a pained expression and John keyed his headset. “Let's maintain radio silence unless it's urgent.”

Once the radios were silent John went back to chewing over all the unanswered questions. The headsets and constant but familiar growl of the chopper blades blocked out all other noise, leaving him with just his thoughts, uninterrupted for the first time since he’d woken up that morning.

Who had helped Todd escape and why? Kavanaugh’s ramblings made it clear that ‘we’ wasn’t just him and Todd. And the traitorous physicist had referred to Todd as an abomination. So again, why help a killing machine like Todd escape the only secure place they’d had for him?

And who was Todd signaling? Todd’s transmitter was part of his physical body. Only he had the power to turn it on and off. Were there other Wraith on the planet? John was certain none of the darts had managed to beam off any Wraith, and there was no way, Wolverine level healing powers or not, that any had survived the kamikaze run on 51.

Of course, mystery numero uno was the strange message Todd had left. Todd had markers and paper. If he’d been planning an escape and wanted to leave one of his typical taunting, obscure to anyone but a psychopath messages, why not really do it up right? A smear of his own blood on the floor? Kolya. John felt his face growing hot under the helmet. Was he really like the man he hated more than any other in either galaxy?

He shook his head, rubbed at the sweat gathering under his sunglasses. Todd had been trapped on Atlantis because he’d been there of his own free will. It wasn’t like John had deliberately captured him, taking him prisoner… Oh, shit.

John keyed his radio on. “Todd turned his transmitter on.”

Rodney snorted into his mike. “Very good. Next you’ll be ordering up a fleet of choppers for us to—“

“No, I mean Todd turned on his transmitter. For us to follow.”

“Why on earth would he want us to know where he is? Of course, this is Todd, we’re talking about. You think this is a trap?”

“No, I think Todd was taken. I don’t think he’s a fugitive, I think he’s a hostage. Or something.”

There was no reply from Rodney.

“Look, McKay, I know it sounds crazy but use your oversized brain and work it out. You said yourself it should’ve been impossible for him to escape. We know Kavanaugh got access at a level way higher than he should’ve had. Which means at least one more person, high up in the SGC, IOA or government gave him that access. Todd may be a big kahuna back in Pegasus but here… there’s no way he’d have any way to orchestrate any of this.”

“Go on.”

“The message, in his blood. Kolya. Think what that bastard did.”

“I’d been wondering why he never, um, fed,” Rodney said tentatively.

“Yeah,” John sighed. “I’d been so busy being relieved there weren’t any casualties, it never hit me to think deeper into it. Todd’s been…” He hesitated before saying the words he hadn’t wanted to even think. “Todd’s been starved for at least three weeks. You really think he wouldn’t grab a few snacks for the road?”

“I’ve been side monitoring police band radios – my computer’s scanning for reports of desiccated corpses. No hits.”

“I think Todd’s been sending us his signal, hoping we’ll find him.”

“Well, I guess we’ll know soon enough. The signal stopped moving.”

“Where?” John demanded.

“Getting coordinates. Hold on.....Got it! North 34.86°; South 33.28°; West 119.10° and East: 117.30°,” Rodney spouted off.

“You copy that?” John asked their pilot.

“Affirmative. Entered the target into the computer, will find a place to land.”

Peering out the window, John tried making out what gigantic metropolitan area they were entering, dreading the answer. They'd been in the air a long time. “Where are--”

“Northeast of downtown Los Angeles, sir.”

Crap. This wasn't going to be a nice and quiet op. “Contact Vandenburg Air Force Base, let 'em know we're right outside their back yard,” he radioed their pilot.

“And Twentynine Palms, sir.”

John blinked, not that the Corporal could have seen it behind his helmet’s shield.

“Air Ground Command, sir.”

Right, the Marines’ largest training center. They could have the Corp’s finest block off the whole city---if it came to that. “Thanks, Corporal.”

John pulled out his secured Blackberry. His phone was literally jacked-in to all the right channels, and he texted the latest to Woolsey, preparing those at the IOA for the inevitable shit storm if they had to cordon off part of a major city.

“How's satellite imaging coming, McKay?”

“Still down.”

There were never any small favors. John tapped in the coordinates of Todd's location into his own tablet, trying to zero-in on exactly where he was. Union Station. The bastards were smart, switching around routes to mimic using a truck to transport the Wraith, but there was no mistaking now that they'd been changing trains just in case they'd been leaving a trail.

“We're coming on to the target,” the pilot radioed. “There's a Homeland Security department location one mile away, sir. Should I land there?”

“Affirmative.”

Bates is going to love this, John thought.

“Colonel Sheppard.”

Speaking of.

“Come in.”

“Colonel, you do realize that this office is for Immigration and Custom Enforcement? They don't have the type of resources we need to--”

“All we need is a place to land. I'm sure you can brief them on the situation. I mean technically, we are helping with the apprehension of an illegal alien.”

“That is the worst joke ever,” Rodney mocked.

John shrugged.

It wasn't like three Black Hawk helicopters could swoop in and land on the rooftop of a commuter rail station without causing mass panic. He was glad Bates was along for the ride. Having an ex-military guy on their side to keep the bureaucrats off his back would be key to keep the op moving.

They disembarked and regrouped on the south end of the parking lot, the rotor blades slowly dying enough to be heard over. All three teams assembled in a circle while Bates made a beeline for the pack of panicked suits headed their way. It must have been a sight to witness: three heavily armed assault teams hanging out by their cars.

John tapped his earpiece. “Bates, ask them for a map of Union Station.”

“One thing at a time, Colonel.”

Lorne stepped over, hands resting over his P-90. “You got a plan, sir?”

Releasing a breath, John checked his watch and adjusted the hour based on time zones. “Yeah, we're going to conduct a search and rescue operation during the height of rush hour, pissing off the locals, stranding passengers, and inconveniencing a whole bunch of people to keep one of the most dangerous security threats to the planet from disappearing into enemy hands.”

“Can't wait to hear all the details,” Lorne deadpanned. “Wait... Search and rescue?”


-----


“Chapter Four”