Fanfiction: Broken Wings, Chapter 1

[rachel500]

Fandom: Stargate SG1/Stargate Atlantis
Summary: When Cameron Mitchell invites John Sheppard on a cross-country flying trip, both men battle personal demons as enemies close in, and the efforts of both their teams may not be enough to save them.
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: This is primarily a Sheppard & Mitchell friendship fic with a hefty dose of team. Multiple background pairings including Sam/Jack, Daniel/Vala (implied), Teal'c/Ishta, Rodney/Jennifer, Teyla/Kanaan, Ronon/Amelia and past Cam/Amy. Complete but will posted daily in chapters as this is a novel length story. Set immediately post SGA S5. Spoilers for all of SG1/SGA abound and minor spoilers for SGU S1. 
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. Written for entertainment purposes only.

 

Broken Wings

Part 1: Pre-flight

The bar was packed with SGC personnel all lined up to wish Colonel Mitchell well before he headed to Kansas for his wedding to a woman whose name John Sheppard didn't know. When it came down to it, he didn't know Mitchell all that well either. In fact, John wasn't entirely certain what he was doing there.

Atlantis had been parked on Earth for all of five days. For the latter three John, along with the rest of the Atlantis command staff, had been buried in meetings at the SGC, making a case for her return to Pegasus. General O'Neill had already made the decision that they needed Atlantis on Earth, in his words, 'like a hole in the head' but he was letting the IOA meetings go ahead to give them the illusion that they'd had some say in the matter. John understood the political need even if he thought the whole thing was a giant waste of time like Rodney had taken to saying pointedly at the beginning of every meeting.

After, shaking Mitchell's hand, wishing him luck and spending the requisite amount of time sitting with a group of Air Force officers to appear sociable, John chose a seat at the bar to watch the game on the muted TV. He sat back and nursed his beer. He tended to believe his team had only been invited because they were there and Mitchell, SG1 leader and all-round American hero, was the type who believed that it was the neighbourly thing to invite complete strangers to dinner and make them feel welcome.

And it wasn't as though Mitchell and John were complete strangers since John had shown Mitchell around Atlantis during SG1's infamous visit. Mostly, John had come away with the impression that Mitchell was an OK guy. The next time they'd ran into each other was during the period when the Atlantis expedition had been kicked back to Earth after rescuing some Ancients who had reclaimed the city. Again, between SG1's schedule and Sheppard's own, they hadn't met up much beyond the occasional 'hey' exchanged in the locker room. But there'd been one night a few weeks in when they'd both been Earth-side and Mitchell had invited him out with a couple of the other team leaders. They'd spent most of the night comparing the aircraft they'd flown focusing on life before any of them knew about aliens. The final time had been fleeting. John had been on his way through the SGC on his way to his father's funeral and Mitchell had stepped into the same elevator and offered his condolences. John had no idea what he'd said back.

Each meeting had solidified John's impression of Mitchell as a good guy; a good officer; someone he wouldn't mind taking orders since Mitchell's promotion to full bird separated them by a rank. When he thought of Mitchell, he thought rock-solid, dependable. Not boring because John was certain that the sum of SG1 leader plus F302 pilot didn't equal boring, but Mitchell was normal in a way that was oddly reassuring when every other person at the SGC was shaded a touch crazy, and John included himself in that. Mitchell was grounded like Teyla.

John missed Teyla. She had participated in the first meeting and then requested to go back to Atlantis to be with Torren and Kanaan. Ronon was at the SGC but had been sparring with Teal'c more than taking part in meetings. John looked for Ronon and Teal'c in the bar and spotted them exactly where he'd left them; at a table drinking outrageously pink cocktails with Vala. A smile quirked John's lips upward for a moment. Only Ronon and Teal'c could get away with drinking pink cocktails and looking macho doing it. He lifted his beer to his lips and took another small sip, searching for his remaining team-mate.

Rodney was sequestered in a corner with a group of scientists including Samantha Carter. They all seemed to be arguing over some random scientific thing in between drinking a copious amount of alcohol. John was surprised nobody had taken an eye out with the number of hands that were flying.

John didn't feel the urge to join either of them. Someone had to be the sensible one and get Ronon and Rodney home by curfew, he reasoned. He was not completely ignored. At some point the bartender took pity on him and put out some snacks; people trundled over to buy more beer and asked the score or updated him on the latest gossip. In the meantime, he enjoyed watching Rodney browbeat his fellow scientists and Ronon drink down more pink cocktails than John thought was a good idea for the interior of the car he'd borrowed. He was also aware that he'd started watching Mitchell.

Mitchell was laughing just a touch too loud, trying to look happy just a touch too much, drinking a little bit more than he should, and radiating tension from every pore. John would have been concerned if it had been any of his business.

Eventually, Sam slid onto the stool next to him. She looked strange in civvies; jeans and a t-shirt that seemed chosen for comfort rather than for fashion. 'John.'

'Sam.' John raised his beer – it was almost empty but not quite.

'I need to ask a favour.' Sam said, getting straight to the point.

'Sure.' John replied agreeably.

'I need you to take Cam home.'

John lowered the bottle back to the bar. That probably hadn't meant what it sounded like, John thought, amused at where his mind had gone. 'Excuse me?'

Sam waved a hand toward Daniel Jackson, sprawled in a chair opposite Mitchell. 'He was supposed to be designated driver.'

'Ah.' John saw the problem. There was a line of shot glasses in front of Jackson and John vaguely remembered someone telling him about a drinking game.

'I've ordered some transports from the base.' Sam explained. 'So we can get everyone else back there but...' she motioned with her head at Mitchell. 'He needs to go home; he has a flight in the morning.'

'Wouldn't it make more sense for you to take him and for me to wrangle this crowd?' John pointed out. He figured Mitchell would appreciate Sam's company more than his. As far as he could work out members of SG1 were members for life regardless of other assignments.

Sam looked at him impatiently. 'I go home with Cam and there'll be gossip.' She said. 'You go home with him and it's a buddy doing another buddy a favour.'

She was right. 'Fine.' John agreed, draining his beer. 'But you make sure my team...'

'Gets home safely.' Sam finished with a grin. 'Yes, Dad.'

'Mom.' John shot back at her.

Sam made an expansive gesture that took in the whole room. 'Then, don't we have beautiful children?' She smirked.

'OK, I'm officially creeped out.' John informed her, but he was smiling. He slid off the bar stool and headed for Mitchell. He clamped a hand on Mitchell's shoulder, grinned at the rest of the group and jerked a thumb back at Sam. 'I've been given orders to get you home, Colonel.'

There was a collective groan from the table.

'Seriously?' Mitchell squinted at Sam who waved back at him. 'It's early.' And when John checked the time, it was earlier than he'd thought. 'I'm sure you could ignore those orders, Sheppard.' But he was already putting his beer down.

'Yeah, I don't think either one of us wants her mad at us.' John drawled, eliciting a laugh from everyone. 'Come on.' He snagged Mitchell's bomber jacket with one hand, and steered Mitchell towards the exit with the other.

A blast of cold rain hit them as soon as they stepped outside of the bar. John dragged in a lungful of air, pleased with the freshness after the stale smell of beer and sweat. Mitchell stumbled as he shrugged into his jacket and John quickly pointed him in the direction of the car. He bundled Mitchell into the passenger seat and gunned the engine.

He glanced over at Mitchell who stared at the empty road ahead of them with something of a grimace. 'Uh, you want to give me directions or an address, Colonel?'

'Cam.' Mitchell replied.

John looked at him quizzically.

'You're hauling my drunken ass home, Sheppard.' Mitchell pointed out. 'I think we could lose the ranks.'

'Sure.' John agreed, pleased to drop the formality. He had never been good at the shift when a rank changed and someone he considered a peer moved up leaving him behind. When Sam had been in charge of Atlantis he'd considered himself lucky that she hadn't cared for the formalities.

'Besides, it's not like you're not going to catch me up again soon anyway.' Mitchell commented dryly.

'I am?'

'You saved Earth.' Mitchell pointed out. 'Promotions come with the territory.'

John shrugged. It had been a surprise to make Lieutenant Colonel; he really didn't expect to make Colonel especially as he was still below zone. 'Address?'

'Do you...would you...' Mitchell squirmed in the passenger seat and crossed his arms over his chest belligerently. 'Can you just drive for a while?'

John took a good look at him. Serious misery was written all over Mitchell's face; a pained glazed look in his shadowed eyes. Something wasn't right. John hesitated, wondering whether he should call Sam but he finally put the car in gear, pulled into the traffic and began driving.

After a while his destination started to become obvious and John stopped for gas, picking up water and a chocolate bar when he paid for it. Mitchell was asleep in the passenger seat, dozing off the worst of the alcohol buzz.

Eventually, John brought the car to a halt. John shoved Mitchell's shoulder to wake him up and got out of the car. He climbed up on the hood and stared up at the night sky, enjoying the heavy smell of wet grass and aviation fuel.

Mitchell followed him, clambering on the hood beside him. He accepted the bottle of water John offered him, unscrewed the cap and downed half the bottle, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. 'The airport?'

John nodded. They were in a field just outside the municipal airport to be exact. For a long while they watched, both enthralled. It was like a bubble enclosed them; the dark, the stars and wispy clouds above. The planes took flight in seemingly random intervals; the comforting roar of engines filling the darkness when they did.

They'd been sat out an hour; cold seeping into their jeans, past the leather jackets and through the thin cotton t-shirts, when Mitchell breathed in deeply and nodded. His shoulders had dropped and the lines in his face had relaxed. 'I needed this.'

John dug into the bag and brought out the chocolate. Mitchell accepted a chunk, popped it in his mouth and licked his thumb. He washed it down with more water.

'You ever been married?' Mitchell asked with studied indifference.

John tensed. He didn't want to be the guy who Mitchell confided in. He wasn't comfortable being the guy anyone confided in. 'Look, uh, I'm seriously not good at this...' he gestured obliquely with his water bottle, 'stuff.'

Mitchell looked at him.

John sighed heavily and capitulated. 'Once.'

'Do you mind if I ask...' Mitchell began; polite now John had given in.

'She wanted a husband and I failed at being one.' John answered honestly. He placed the water by his feet.

Mitchell nodded solemnly. 'Sorry.'

John lifted a shoulder and looked out toward the airport and the chain link fencing separating them from the planes. 'It was a long time ago.' Nancy had always been honest and he'd thought that he could be what she needed. He'd been wrong. 'Mostly, I couldn't clip my wings.'

There was a long silence.

Mitchell drank down the rest of the bottle of water and dropped it by his feet, following John's example. They were both resting against the windshield, legs stretched out along the hood. It was damn uncomfortable but neither of them moved.

'Amy's wonderful.' Mitchell began, staring at the ceiling of stars above them. 'We met in high school.'

'Sweethearts?' John asked because Mitchell seemed the type to get the American dream.

'God, no.' Mitchell laughed out loud. 'I couldn't get the courage up to ask her out back then.' He shifted position on the car. 'I was kinda goofy.'

John hid his surprise; he'd imagined star quarterback and Homecoming King, the complete opposite of John's experience which could only be described as geeky; chess club, math tournaments, horses and planes. He'd been ahead of his peers and if it hadn't been for the track team, he might never have had any kind of cool status. Even so, it had been a shock his senior year when girls had started paying him attention.

Mitchell sighed. 'Anyway, we reconnected at my high school reunion. It got crashed by an Alliance thug so she knows some of what we do.'

John tracked the constellations absently. The sky seemed empty with only one moon.

'Then, uh, after the Ori thing, I spent over a month convalescing at my parents' place.'

John vaguely remembered the reports. Mitchell had beaten up by some kind of Terminator Replicator monster. John also remembered that Rodney had talked a lot about why the Replicators would want to create a human hybrid and what that might mean for their own Pegasus Replicator versions since they hadn't defeated them at the time.

'Amy was visiting and we fell back into dating.'

'That can happen.' John agreed. He and Nancy had been like that; sliding from friends into dating into marriage. He wondered absently if his wedding photos showed him looking as stunned as he'd felt.

'And I...' Mitchell sketched a shape in the air, 'let it happen.' He paused. 'Just seemed time you know? Sam has what she has with O'Neill, I thought Daniel and Vala would get their acts together with her ex being out of the picture, and Teal'c's as good as married to his Jaffa girlfriend.'

John knew how lonely it could be surrounded by couples. He'd spent weeks avoiding conversations with Rodney on his future with Keller, Ronon on whatever he'd got going with Amelia, and Teyla on Kanaan. He could imagine meeting someone, having that hollowed out feeling of alone go away. If he was honest, that want for something to fill the void every so often was mostly the reason he thought fondly of Larrin, a woman who had done nothing but beat him up and shoot him down every time they'd met.

'She proposed.' Mitchell announced brusquely. 'And what the hell am I supposed to say?' He lurched up into a sitting position.

John was half a heartbeat behind him but he stopped unsure what to do. He wished Teyla was there. He wished Sam was there. Hell, he wished anyone was there but him.

Mitchell was huddled over, knees drawn up, head bent. 'Crap.'

John lifted his hand to place it on Mitchell's shoulder, stopped, started again, and finally committed to it. He squeezed gently. 'Cold feet, huh?'

'More like cold everything.' Mitchell huffed out. He wasn't looking at John but he leaned into the touch. 'Sorry.'

John just squeezed his shoulder again.

'What the hell's the matter with me?' Mitchell muttered. 'I said yes.'

'Did you want to say yes?' John asked bluntly.

'Amy's wonderful.' Mitchell repeated as though that was an answer.

John patted Mitchell's shoulder and dropped his hand because he wasn't going to press him. They were barely colleagues never mind friends; Mitchell had seniority on him. If he wanted to continue talking, it was up to him. John wasn't all that bothered.

Well, OK, maybe John was somewhat bothered. He liked the guy and it was obvious Mitchell had been carrying the doubts about his impending marriage around for a while; heading for the ground and needing to pull up before he crashed and burned.

'I didn't want to hurt her by saying no.' Mitchell confessed.

Mitchell didn't say why he would hurt her beyond the obvious rejection but John could work that out for himself: Amy didn't know Mitchell hadn't been serious about her, had been using her to alleviate the loneliness he'd felt. She'd proposed thinking they were on the same page; headed for the white picket fence and the two point five children; the happy ever after. John wondered if Mitchell had even realised what he'd been doing before Amy's proposal of marriage. Probably not; Mitchell was too nice a guy to have used someone he liked deliberately.

'I thought I could make it work.' Mitchell murmured as if he'd read John's mind. 'I'm not getting any younger, we'd been dating for a year, and Amy is...'

'Wonderful?' John suggested dryly.

'But, the closer it gets...' Mitchell grimaced and looked up at the sky, 'I guess I don't want to clip my wings either.'

And yeah; there it was. It might be a metaphor but flying was freedom, nothing but sky and wind and defying gravity.

Mitchell blew out a long breath; all the tension flooding out of him as though it had been a long time bottled up. 'Thing is, I already know what I have to do.'

John bumped Mitchell's knee with his own. It was better they broke up before the wedding than afterward. He hunted around and handed Mitchell another bottle of water. 'Sorry it isn't beer.'

Mitchell snorted. He nudged John's shoulder with his own. 'Sorry to dump on you, Sheppard.' He shook his head. 'I can't...I haven't been able to talk to...anyway, sorry.'

'Not a problem.' John answered untruthfully.

Mitchell laughed. 'Sure.' Enough understanding and gratitude laced his tone that John knew Mitchell knew exactly how uncomfortable John had found the last twenty minutes, and that Mitchell was thankful all the same that John had stuck it out.

'So maybe I'm thinking Sam owes me something big and shiny for asking me to give you a ride.' John admitted.

'She's been trying to get me to talk for weeks.' Mitchell murmured contemplatively. His eyes narrowed on John.

'Don't look at me.' John held both his hands up at Mitchell's accusing look. If Sam had set their discussion up he'd had no part in it. 'I'm an innocent bystander here.'

That got another snort of laughter. 'I doubt you're an innocent anything, Sheppard.'

They were sitting close enough that John could see the crinkling lines at the edges of Mitchell's eyes, the warm easy affection that heated Mitchell's blue gaze. A whine of turbines above them had both their heads turning skyward.

Mitchell clapped a hand over John's shoulder. 'How about we take a couple of 302s for a ride around the planet when I get back?'

'I could go for that.' John said.

'Well, I know I'm going to need a ride after...' Mitchell's face scrunched up as the reality of what he was going to do hit. 'This is not going to be a fun week.'

John pressed his lips together and made the offer he knew Mitchell would make in his place. 'You need a wingman?' Besides, the thought of going with Mitchell into the wilds of Kansas to support him while he broke a woman's heart was marginally more attractive than spending time in more interminable IOA meetings.

'That would be above and beyond. No, I think it needs to be a solo.' Mitchell replied. ''sides, once my folks get over the disappointment, they'll back me.'

John felt a fierce tug of jealousy at Mitchell's certainty; the simple knowledge that family would be there as a soft place to land and not like hard and unforgiving concrete. He cast one last look at the sky. 'We should go.'

They slid off the hood, picked up their trash and climbed in the car.

Mitchell rattled the address off as soon as John was belted in. He programmed the GPS and set off. Ten minutes in, Mitchell's head was slumped on the glass of the passenger window; he was fast asleep and drooling. John focused on the road.

They were entering a quiet suburb when his cell beeped. John fumbled, unused to carrying one, and answered. 'Sheppard.'

'Where are you?' Sam asked with enough impatience that it made him think she had been waiting for him to call her.

'He wanted to go for a drive.' John reported crisply.

Sam sighed audibly. 'Did he talk to you?'

'I'm sure he'll tell you tomorrow.' John retorted, feeling too manipulated and resenting the position she'd put him in.

'There's not going to be a wedding, is there?' Sam asked gently.

And John could hear the ache in her voice for what Mitchell was going through.

'Probably not.' John conceded, because when all was said and done he understood the friendship that had motivated her actions. He hoped Rodney, or more likely Teyla, would do the same for him if he was ever in Mitchell's shoes.

'Thanks, John.' Sam said.

'You owe me something big and shiny.' John shot back.

'I'll think of something.' Sam promised and disconnected before he could start making requests like no more IOA meetings ever, and maybe his very own F302 thrown in for good measure.

He pulled up in front of Mitchell's house and woke Mitchell apologetically. 'You need any help from here?'

Mitchell yawned, stretched and shook his head. 'You can crash if you want?'

John declined politely. He stayed until Mitchell was safely behind the front door before he pointed the car in the direction of Cheyenne Mountain.

It was late when John made it into the base. He checked on Rodney and found him clothed and sprawled over a bed snoring away happily; checked on Ronon who was out cold in another room.

John headed to his own quarters. He peeled off his clothes and climbed into bed, belatedly remembering to set the alarm. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow, and he dreamed of flying in a F302 and breaking Nancy's heart in a field of corn.

Chapter 2