Critical Condition

Once again, John Sheppard found himself sitting in his quarters in the middle of the night with his black notebook open on his lap. What had begun as a relaxing vacation on Earth had ended with a funeral and a world of guilt. He'd gotten back to Atlantis that morning, and now was the first chance he had to get this down.

As much as Atlantis has become home, I was glad to be back on Earth, even if only for a few days. I'd managed to get passage on Daedalus's next run to Atlantis in about a week, and I decided to take advantage of some of my accumulated leave time.

This was only the second time I'd been to Earth since arriving at Atlantis. The first time, though, was when I was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel – there had been no leave time involved. This time, though, I was on vacation.

First thing I did when I got in my front door was grab a beer from the fridge, park it on the couch, flip on the TV, and start channel-surfing. Law & Order. The Twilight Zone. Braveheart. Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. There was a possibility. Monk. Stupid-looking cartoons. The news. The weather…

I almost did a spit take, and turned back to the news, catching the anchor in mid-sentence. "…the unexplained shooting of popular horror writer D. L. Sheppard. Police are investigating the attack, but so far have no leads. Sheppard is reported to be in critical condition, and is not expected to make it through the night."

I was beyond stunned. I wasn't been on the best of terms with my older sister – Domenica Lucille – when I left for Atlantis, but until then, we'd been inseparable, best friends. When I told her that I was probably never coming back from this assignment, and wouldn't be able to contact her at all, she blew up. We argued for a long time, her screaming at me for leaving her and her son Daniel – "You're the closest thing he has to a father!" – me begging her to understand. Finally, she took control of the situation and kicked me out permanently. "Fine! You want to leave? Go. But if you ever do come back, don't bother looking for me!" She slammed the door behind me.

In my own anger, I shouted back, "Well, then, good riddance!" and erased all thought of her and her son from my mind. If that's what she wanted, that's what she'd get. When it became possible to send messages home from Atlantis, I didn't bother to try to reach her. But now, seeing my sister's face on the screen with the words "Attempted Murder" splashed across it, I realized how utterly stupid that was. I jumped into my car and tore off down the street toward the hospital before I even realized what I was doing.

I found my little nephew in the waiting area of the ER. Little Daniel (he's seven) was terrified – and I didn't blame him. The boy's only living relative besides Domenica and me was our father, Daniel's grandfather, who's usually too drunk to answer the telephone, let alone drive. So God only knew how long he'd been waiting there, poor kid. I picked him up and held him, letting him cry on my shoulder.

After a few minutes, Daniel picked up his head and stared at me, with those brilliant green eyes that are exactly like his mother's. "Uncle John?" he said, sniffling. "Is Mommy gonna be okay?"

I found an empty chair and sat down, holding Daniel on my lap. I wished more than anything that I could reassure him… but anything I could say would be a lie. Blinking back tears of my own, I whispered, "I don't know, Danny. I don't know." Thinking back on it, I'm kicking myself. Way to scare the kid even more, Sheppard.

Daniel's lower lip trembled. "Then who's gonna take care of me? Can I live with you?"

His little pleading voice was like a knife to my heart. "I'm sorry, Danny, but you can't. I have to go in just a few days."

"Where?"

Oh, those eyes. What is it about little kids, that they can make you want to laugh or cry just by looking at you? I sighed and hugged him tighter. "Someplace that's way too dangerous for kids," I said. "There are bad people out there, Danny, and I have to help keep them from coming here."

Tears flowed anew down Daniel's face. "But there are already bad people here. And one of them hurt Mommy!"

I blinked in surprise – the kid had a point. But before I could come up with a response to that, I heard a voice call out, "Daniel!" Looking up, I saw a man in a police officer's uniform approaching us. He snatched up the little boy and demanded of me, "Who the hell are you?"

You're asking me? I thought as I stood and glared into the other man's eyes. "Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, U.S. Air Force. More importantly, I'm Domenica's brother. The question is, who are you?"

The policeman's face softened, and I relaxed. "Sergeant Michael Dalton. Domenica's boyfriend. I'm sorry, Colonel Sheppard, I didn't know she had a brother."

"Well, I've been away for just over a year, and when I left, she didn't want anything to do with me. And it's John."

"Mike. Pleasure to meet you." He managed a rueful half-smile. "Or it would be, under different circumstances."

"Yeah." Over Mike's shoulder, I saw someone else approaching, and my heart sank. "Mike? Here comes the doctor."

Mike took a deep breath and turned around to face her. From the look on the petite Indian woman's face, I could see that the worst had happened. I felt dizzy and vaguely ill. "Is Domenica all right?" I wasn't sure whether Mike or I had asked.

"I'm sorry," the doctor replied. I can't remember her name – I keep wanting to say Rasgotra, but that's a character in… some TV show or other. I don't remember. "We did everything we could, but her injuries were too severe."

"Oh, God," Mike whispered, and Daniel, now even more frightened, began to cry again.

"What does that mean? Mike? Uncle John? Is Mommy dead?"

Numb with shock, I could only nod wordlessly. I couldn't believe what an idiot I'd been. I should've tried to patch things up with my sister a long time ago – but now it's too late. Guilt threatened to overwhelm me. How could this have happened? My sister is dead, and it's only pure luck that I ever found out. The thought makes me shiver.

I've got my priorities totally screwed. Domenica was right – Daniel needed a father figure, but no, I had to run off on some damn fool mission to another galaxy instead. Now I'm committed, and Daniel's left with no family fit to raise him. And what's the point of this mission? Do I really need to leave my orphaned nephew alone to go exploring billions of light-years away? Sure, there's the Wraith to keep away from Earth, but Daniel was right, too. There isn't much the Wraith can do that's worse than taking a mother from her child.

Sheppard felt yet another surge of guilt as he lay the black notebook aside and turned off the light. He wished he hadn't described his argument with Domenica the way he had – he'd almost made her out to be the villain. Speaking ill of the dead was one thing, but his own sister…

Yup, he'd screwed up royally. Business as usual, he thought bitterly, and drifted into a fitful sleep.