Author's note: Contains spoilers for Hot Zone. This story came out of a conversation I had with a friend after seeing Hot Zone and how we felt for Ford for being teased and then how we felt for Zelenka after Ford bit back. The conversation continued after Letters from Pegasus and how Ford got along well with everyone. Part of both discussions was how much respect Ford clearly has for Sheppard. Another part of our chat was the pressure on Sheppard stepping into Sumner's experienced shoes. The title "Some Element of Repetition" comes from a website about a certain type of repeated behavior while the line "Conscience is just the fear of getting caught" is from the late, much lamented American Gothic.
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Some Element of Repetition
By EllieV
He lay on his bed fully dressed, staring upwards but not seeing. He ran through what he had done, what he had said, trying to work out what he could have said and should have done. Missed opportunities. It had been a bad day for everyone but if he was going to be honest with himself, Aiden Ford had come out looking less than impressive.
He looked at his wristwatch and sighed. What he really wanted to do was apologize but knocking on doors at 5.15 wasn't going to up his popularity any. His reports were up-to-date and every single piece of weaponry he owned or was in charge of was clean and ready to go. He literally had nothing to do.
Ford pulled at a thread in his blanket, worrying at it, going over and over everything that had played out throughout the previous day. He'd contributed nothing at all to the solution and had just got in the way. He wondered if he should have put that in his report: Aiden Ford, Lieutenant Useless.
He pulled himself up and was out the door before he realized it. He squinted down the hall at Major Sheppard's quarters, hoping there might be a light on. He wanted to apologize, yes, but what he really wanted to know was how to do it. He'd heard what happened with the Major breaking the quarantine. Bates had opened the door to the gymnasium, as they'd dubbed the room even though they had no equipment in there. The floor was somehow softer - Doctor McKay didn't know why and had said impatiently that he didn't care -and falling over wasn't as bad as on a regular floor. What really surprised him was that Bates had gone against Doctor Weir at all. Maybe Bates had more respect for the Major than he had thought.
Sheppard's room was dark and Ford stood for a moment, biting his lip, hesitating on whether to knock or not. Aside from going up against Doctor Weir, the Major had been bounced around the atmosphere in the puddlejumper after the naquadah generator had exploded. He'd gone up there in the first place knowing that he might not come back. He'd also come out of the debrief meeting with Doctor Weir looking like he'd been a couple of rounds with Mike Tyson. Five-thirty in the morning after a day like that probably wasn't a good time for Sheppard to dispense advice to Lieutenant Useless.
Ford kept walking, heading towards the southwest pier. He remembered Major Sheppard had said it had the best view of the city, though to Ford's mind the best view was the one from a puddlejumper weaving in and out of the city's skyscrapers. He'd watch the sunrise and wait for everyone to get up.
Yesterday had started off really well. People were still on a high from beating the Genii and Atlantis being in one piece after the hurricane. They'd lost a couple of people, which the Major got very quiet about whenever it was mentioned, and one of the Athosians was certainly the worse for wear but still, overall they'd done good.
Ford came to a halt. That was another thing: Beckett. He'd handled that one badly, too. He could make plenty of excuses: he was afraid of storms; he was worried about the team left behind in the city...there were all sorts of reasons he could put forward. Who was he kidding? Beckett was a doctor, a civilian, and Ford had spent a lot of that day yelling at him. Ford tried putting himself in Sheppard's shoes to work out how the Major would have handled Beckett. Admittedly, the Major might have yelled at the Doctor, too, but would he have got called a "cheeky little bugger" in return? Ford didn't think so. Thing was, Ford had blamed Beckett for getting the naquadah generator location wrong. Even as he said it, he knew he was being an idiot.
The door to the southwest pier slid open in front of him. Ford didn't remember starting to walk again. It was a wonder he hadn't walked off a balcony or into a lab, starting off some new emergency. That would really cement things. He sat down on the first level and contemplated the city. It really was a nice view.
He could see a glimmer of the sun at the horizon. Ford had heard that nuclear explosions in the atmosphere caused amazing sunrises. Or was that sunsets? McKay would know. And Zelenka, most likely. Ford thought about that conversation... He'd ask the Major instead: he'd know.
Ford glanced around as the pier door opened. Sheppard stepped through, holding a long cup. Coffee, Ford thought. The Major didn't look too pleased at finding someone in his spot. He acknowledged the interloper with a simple drawled, "Ford." It reminded Ford of when Sheppard had seen the event horizon shimmering inside the puddlejumper. He'd been in enormous pain, and could barely move, but all he'd said was "You mean to tell me my day just got worse?" Ford had done okay that day. Even McKay had said so.
Ford stood to go, suddenly unsure of asking Sheppard anything. Sheppard looked like he hadn't slept a whole lot either. Considering his day, Ford's troubles seemed pretty minor.
"Uh, morning sir," Ford said. "I was just..."
"Sit, Ford," Sheppard said, waving the Lieutenant back down. "Pier's big enough for both of us."
"Yes, sir," Ford said. Sheppard sat on the steps, almost gingerly, and sipped at his coffee. He wasn't watching the sunrise. The drink had his attention. He probably just came out here to be alone. Sometimes, Ford thought, Sheppard just looked completely drained as though he alone carried the expedition's cares. He didn't but somehow Ford thought that it would be hard to persuade Sheppard otherwise. From the gossip Ford had picked up back at the SGC, Sheppard had been brought along solely because of his ATA gene; he hadn't expected to be in charge of anything.
"What's up, Ford?" Sheppard said, breaking the silence.
"Sir? Uh, nothing, sir, just came out to watch the sunrise, sir" Ford replied, nodding a little too emphatically.
"That's a lot of "sir's" for a nothing, Ford," Sheppard said, giving the Lieutenant an unreadable look. "You look like crap."
McKay had complained, Ford reasoned. Or Beckett. Or worse, Zelenka. Maybe all of them.
"Ford..." Sheppard repeated, his voice quiet but insistent.
Lieutenant Useless would be a good start.
"Do you know anything about prime numbers, sir?" Ford blurted out.
There was a pause and then Sheppard said bemusedly, "What?"
Ford never worried about looking like an idiot in front of Colonel Sumner or anyone else back at the SGC. Sheppard, on the other hand, managed to make everyone around him look like idiots even when he was goofing off or when he was in trouble. Ford acknowledged to himself that he worried about how he looked in front of the Major probably more than he should.
"Ford, prime numbers," Sheppard prompted.
Ford tried to sound casual. "Dr McKay and Dr Zelenka were talking about them yesterday. I just kinda wondered that's all."
"Prime numbers can only be divided by themselves and one," Sheppard said. "Like 1,979."
Ford hoped he didn't look as blank as he felt. From Sheppard's glance at him, though, Ford looked like a really clean slate.
"Look, it's easy," said Sheppard. "What can you divide 13 by?"
"Anything," said Ford. "Like, two. That's 6.5."
Sheppard shook his head. "No remainders," he said. "No decimal points. For it to be a prime number, you can't have decimal points or for it to be divisible by any other number. What can you divide 15 by?"
"Three and five," said Ford.
"What can you divide 97 by?" asked Sheppard.
He felt like a dunce. "Ninety-seven can be divided by three, can't it?" Ford said, floundering.
"Ninety can," said Sheppard. "Seven can't. Seven can only be divided by itself and one. What about 993?"
Ford thought for a moment. "Not prime," he said. Amazing, he got it.
"Good," said Sheppard. "Now you can tell me why I'm giving you a math lesson at," he checked his watch, "6.30 in the morning."
"They complained, didn't they," said Ford.
"Who complained?"
"Dr Zelenka and Dr McKay," Ford replied miserably. He should have left while he had the chance.
Ford heard Sheppard sigh before he said, `Just tell me what happened, Ford."
"I told Dr Zelenka that I used to beat up on guys like him in high school," Ford confessed.
"And did you?" Sheppard's voice was mild.
"No!" Ford snapped. At Sheppard's raised eyebrows, he colored and mumbled, "Yeah, a little. Once. A math geek."
"Why?"
"Didn't you do anything like that at school, sir?" Ford had known, lying on his bed, that if he started this conversation with anyone, he'd be asked why. He shouldn't be feeling judged, but he was.
"Ford, I was a math geek in high school," Sheppard said, almost as though he was a little amused. He put out a hand to stop Ford, as the Lieutenant opened his mouth to object that Sheppard had ever been considered a geek. "I'm good at math, Ford. Did you put this math geek into hospital?"
"No, sir!" said Ford indignantly. "I just pushed him to make him drop his books. It was a dare." As soon as he said it, he really did feel idiotic. He tried to explain. "I was in a kind of gang at school. Not like gangbangers or nothin' but we did some pretty stupid stuff. I got into trouble a lot."
"Okay," Sheppard said. He looked into his coffee, now long cold, and drained it, making a face at its bitterness. Or at him: Ford couldn't tell.
"Clever people don't care about hurting anyone else's feelings," said Ford, a little defiantly. "The guy embarrassed me in front of everyone in class."
"So you beat him up?" Sheppard asked. "Is that what happened with Zelenka and McKay? They ask you about prime numbers, did they? Feel like you were back in high school?"
"Yeah..." Despite his guilt Ford still felt annoyed.
"What happened with the math geek?"
Ford smiled a little. "My grandpa happened, sir. The school phoned him and I got into the biggest trouble in my life. He'd take the Wraith on and win."
"Pity he's not here, then," Sheppard said a little dryly. "What about Zelenka?"
"Dr Zelenka said he wanted me to take part in a study on statistical probabilities because I got all the prime numbers wrong. That's when I told him I used to beat up guys like him."
Sheppard squinted at him. He really did look bad, thought Ford. A stupid marine probably wasn't on his agenda at any time, let alone after yesterday. But since Ford was confessing...
"And during the hurricane, I threatened Dr Beckett," Ford said, "and yesterday I panicked when I thought I was gonna die and I yelled at him."
"Ford, what's this in aid of?" Sheppard wanted to know, wearily rubbing his temples. Great, he'd given Sheppard a headache now. "Are you angry with yourself because you screwed up or because Zelenka complained about you?"
Ford paused. "Both, sir."
"Conscience is just the fear of getting caught," Sheppard quoted. "Zelenka didn't say a word, Ford. McKay didn't say a word. Neither did Beckett - about anything. Be angry with yourself for screwing up but they didn't say anything about you."
"Are you angry with yourself, sir?" Ford dared ask.
Sheppard barked out a short laugh. "All the time, Ford, all the time." He rubbed his head again. "Look, are McKay and the other scientists known for their social skills?"
Ford grinned in spite of himself, "No, sir."
"So..." Sheppard said.
"So, I should take that into account," Ford said, a little dutifully. It wasn't Sheppard who'd been teased unmercifully by people whose brains were bigger than the planet. Ford was an officer and he was good at his job but still, he was the one who was on the receiving end of the jokes. He frowned across at Sheppard who was drooping a little. "Sir, what was it like when you were a lieutenant?"
Sheppard lifted his head and turned it toward him, the hazel eyes narrowing as he finally got what was really bothering Ford. "Feeling a little picked on, Lieutenant?"
"Like I'm always too young, sir," Ford said. "to get any respect." There, he'd said it. Sulkily, as though he was 12-years-old, but it was out in the open. He thought Sheppard would say that people earn respect but he didn't.
"What makes you think that people don't respect you?" Sheppard asked. Ford thought Sheppard actually sounded surprised.
"They wouldn't have done that to you, sir," Ford pointed out.
"Zelenka, no, but McKay would," Sheppard said. "I don't know if you've noticed but McKay's kind of like that. Did he start it?"
"Yes, sir," Ford said.
"You think they meant any harm?"
"No, sir."
"Well, keep losing your temper and they definitely won't respect you," Sheppard said.
That was a little much for Ford, "You have a temper, sir," Ford said, deliberately showing his resentment. "They still respect you."
Sheppard was really squinting now, as though his headache was rapidly turning into a migraine. A touch of impatience showed as he said, "If everyone in the mess hall had died yesterday because I broke quarantine, you think you'd be talking about how much people respect me?"
"But they didn't. You saved everyone," Ford said.
"Could have gone the other way, Ford," Sheppard said. "Remember that." He stood up, and grabbed the railing to steady himself.
"What should I do?" asked Ford.
Sheppard sighed again. "Look Ford, I'm no more answer man than Rodney. I make a lot of mistakes. I try not to make the same ones over and over but sometimes I do. I'm not an expert on what people should do to gain respect. I'm not much of an expert on anything. I'm good at math and flying. For what it's worth, when I was a Lieutenant I was crap at everything except helicopters." He massaged his temples. "I'm going back to bed."
"Yes, sir," Ford said, slowly. "Thank you, sir."
"For what?"
Sheppard left, a little unsteadily. Ford thought about following him to make sure the Major was okay but stopped when he caught sight of the sky. In his misery, he'd missed the sunrise. Maybe he'd come out again tomorrow. He stood, stretched, and walked back into the city.
It became busier the closer he got to the control room but he bypassed it to get some breakfast. The food hadn't become anymore interesting even after they'd made some good trading partners. There were a couple of things on the menu that even made him want to throw up. Having him as a patient, Ford thought, would probably cheer Dr Beckett up a lot.
Ford stood in the mess hall doorway and looked inside. McKay was sitting with Zelenka, both of them clearly arguing. Even when he thought he was going to die, McKay had been in charge. Right from the start when they had set off and especially after Wagner and Johnson had died. McKay sometimes lacked even the barest social graces but he'd set the pace yesterday.
Beckett, too. He whined a lot, but when it came down to it, the doc knew his stuff. Put a gun in his hand and he was hopeless. Give him a disease or an injury and he was the coolest person under pressure Ford had ever seen.
"Are you going to stand in the door all day, Lieutenant?" Kavanagh pushed past Ford, giving him a dirty look. Ford inwardly shrugged. Some people he didn't care whether or not they respected him.
"And how are we after yesterday, Lieutenant?" It was Beckett, looking, as Sheppard would have put it, remarkably chipper.
"I'm good, Doc," Ford said. Beckett nodded and started to move across to the food table. Ford suddenly grabbed Beckett's arm "Hey, Doc? Uh..."
"Aiden?" Beckett looked concerned.
"Look, uh," Ford stumbled. "I just wanted to say... Look, you don't talk too much, okay?"
Beckett looked surprised. "Och, yes I do, son. My mum always said I was gabby." He chuckled and patted Ford's arm.
Ford followed the doctor and grabbed some food. He wasn't entirely sure what it was. The mess hall was nearly full and seats were scarce. Beckett went to sit with McKay and Zelenka. Ford hesitated.
"Ford!" McKay called. "Seat here." He waved Ford over.
Ford sat and ate, uncomfortable, not really following the conversation.
"What do you think, Lieutenant?" McKay asked, clearly asking him to adjudicate between he and Zelenka.
Ford looked from the Czech to the Canadian, paused, opened his mouth, closed it, and then replied honestly, "I think I have no idea what you guys are talking about."
"See?" McKay said mockingly to Zelenka, "No one knows what you're talking about. I don't, Carson doesn't, and nor does Ford."
"I didn't know what you guys were talking about yesterday, either," Ford blurted out.
"When?" McKay and Zelenka looked puzzled.
Ford bit his lip. "The prime numbers thing." He looked at Zelenka apologetically who shrugged dismissively.
"Not everyone is good at maths, Lieutenant," Zelenka said. "I cannot shoot straight."
"I can," McKay put in smugly. "In fact..." The scientist ranted on, leaving Ford looking at his three nemeses wonderingly.
"Hey, uh," he said interrupting McKay. "Can I ask a question?"
"Of course," said Zelenka. "You are better to listen to than McKay."
As McKay spluttered, Beckett and Zelenka laughed.
"What effect does a nuclear explosion have on sunrises?" Ford asked.
As the two scientists launched into a complex explanation that Ford didn't understand, using their plates, the sugar, and the salt and pepper shakers to illustrate, Ford sat back in his chair and contemplated the grace of being crap at everything.
Except helicopters.
FINIS
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