Important Note to all readers:

Every "chapter" of this story is a story of its own. We've decided to post it in CHAPTERS on as this site doesn't allow linking of stories into series or even adding links at the end of a story to make it easier on the readers. Every chapter will have a The End at the end of it to symbolise this. Due to some confusion we've decided to clarify this before readers head to into this story.

Currently Total Recall counts 6 stories:

1. "Identity"
2. "Love changes everything ... and nothing"
3. "Decisions"
4. "Dark Clouds on the Horizon"
5. "Bad Moon Rising"
6. "For they don't know what they are doing"

A 7th story is planned to take place right after "For they don't know what they are doing", but we haven't managed to finish it quite yet. We hope that this will clear up some of the problems this collection of stories seems to have caused.

Enjoy reading these stories, we both still love them to little bits.

Love,
Melinda & Cassandra

Title: Identity

Author: ca_pierson and darkmoore05
Beta: kimberlyfdr on livejournal
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: pre-slash McKay/Sheppard
Rating: G
Word count: 7.674
Warnings: none
Genre: AU
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis doesn't belong to us, neither do the characters. This is a work of fannish love and we aren't making any money from it.
Author's Note: This is an Alternate Universe in which Carson never died. Therefore he's still around when Sam takes over in Atlantis.

Summary: Getting electrocuted by a sculpture was the least of John's problems. The burns would heal again quickly. The whole thing with getting someone else's memories? Now, that was the actual catastrophe. It was just what he needed.

Total Recall 1 - Identity

by Melinda and Cassandra Pierson

Some days John wasn't sure if it was actually worth getting out of bed. Really, he wasn't. What was the point in getting up if he ended up in the infirmary flat on his back with a killer headache anyway?

His fingers still stung from where he'd touched what they'd all thought was a sculpture of some kind. Turned out it wasn't a sculpture after all. Because no sculpture John knew of had the habit of electrocuting innocent passers-by. It didn't matter that Rodney thought it was a piece of artwork mainly using light. It didn't even matter that it might have been pretty – with or without light. All that really did matter was that John felt singed and that his brain felt like mush. And if Rodney said one more time that it was just a minor outlet and couldn't have possibly killed him? Well, John certainly couldn't be held responsible for any of his actions in that case.

That Carson was keeping him overnight wasn't exactly helping John think it was just 'a wee bit of current', either. Absently, John became aware that he was rubbing his right hand again through the bandages. It itched. Abominably so. His whole body felt like there were ants crawling all over – and John really had comparison material from the one time he'd sat on an anthill while hiking. Maybe it had been more than just 'a wee bit of current' because John didn't think that being electrocuted would produce these kinds of sensations. At least it wasn't painful, just … distracting.

To top it off, John was feeling a bit out of it as well. But maybe that was due to the painkillers Carson had given him. Not like he needed painkillers. Carson had overruled him on that with a stern look – almost a glare – and a terse 'shut up, Colonel'. It just wasn't fair. John hated being drugged; it made him feel so ... maudlin. Really rather weird. Weird and it made him babble like mad. Or think weird stuff. Weird, weird, weird stuff.

You should have paid more attention, Tural. You knew that that drone prototype wasn't ready yet. You could have seriously injured yourself.

John's eyes flew open, feeling disoriented. At that place between awake and asleep, something strange had happened. He couldn't quite name what exactly it had been, but in a way it felt a little bit like a fond childhood memory. The only problem with that was that whatever it was he'd just experienced couldn't have been a memory. Well, at least not his own. This had been Atlantis, but an Atlantis very unlike the one he knew today. This Atlantis hadn't been thousands of years old; she'd been new. Brand new and brimming with energy that just waited to be unleashed. It had felt like such a rush; a power, vibrating through him, filling his very being.

It had felt like home.

Much more like home than setting foot into the city for the very first time. It had felt like he belonged; as if he knew with absolute certainty that this was exactly where he was meant to be. Safe. Home. Protected.

John rubbed his eyes tiredly and wondered if the medication was possibly causing hallucinations. Maybe the electric current had fried his brain cells after all and now the mix of the medication and the tiredness he felt, combined with having been seriously zapped …

He should try to go to sleep again, John decided. He closed his eyes and consciously relaxed, taking deep breaths. Letting the faint hum of the city, the way it felt alive and soothing around him, lull him to sleep. Don't worry about a thing, Tural, I'm sure Janus will figure it out, the voice of a woman whispered, but this time John didn't have the strength to open his eyes again. He let himself be dragged under and sleep claimed him, drowning out all thought.

John was walking through the corridors of Atlantis. He knew it was Atlantis as the structure was unmistakable. The people he met, though, he didn't know. Strange people, people he'd never seen in his life, bustling through the corridors like they belonged there.

He tried to stop, he did, but he couldn't. It felt like he was just a watcher in his own body, along for the ride. "Tural!" Stopping against his will and turning around he saw Chaya approaching. John wanted to groan. This had to be a dream. Drug-induced as well. And naturally he dreamed about Chaya. Great, just great.

"Chaya," he found himself saying, "what do you want?" He was surprised at how antagonistic he sounded. "I told you I'm not interested, so why do you insist on following me?"

She looked unfazed, smiling at him in a way that he knew was supposed to be seductive. "We are to be engaged, Tural. Why can you not accept that? You have been promised to me since we were little and I will not allow you to negate an agreement made by our fathers."

For a moment everything around him went black, then the picture returned and John realized he must have been closing his eyes. "No," he said, and John could hear the finality in it. It was weird to hear himself talk like that. Weird, but also somehow cool. "I won't marry you. There was no contract, and I'm not obliged to do anything. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some place to be. Namely somewhere where you aren't." With that, he turned away and started walking again.

"Do not turn your back on me like that, Tural," Chaya said from behind, her calm veneer cracking. "You will be mine someday, have no doubt about that."

John kept going in this strange body – Tural, he guessed – and only waved back at her dismissively.

The transition between sleeping and waking was so abrupt that for a moment John couldn't tell where he was. Then the familiar ceiling swam into focus above him and the electrocution incident returned to his mind with force. He located the call button and pushed it, a slight panic starting to build. That sculpture had done something to him. And John didn't like it one bit.

oooooOooooo

Sam Carter rubbed her aching neck tiredly. Why couldn't they get a rest for a while? Dr. Beckett had asked her to come to the infirmary to speak about the colonel. He was experiencing strange symptoms after the not-quite sculpture had zapped him. Sam just hoped he hadn't been permanently damaged by … whatever the sculpture had done.

Forcing herself to stay focused, Sam turned her attention back to Carson, who was still thoughtfully studying the scans he'd made of John's head.

"That is very unusual, Colonel," Carson said, addressing both of them at the same time, but looking at Sam. "It seems that what he experienced wasn't a hallucination or a dream, but in fact, a memory. The unusual thing about it is that it appears to be his own memory, even though that isn't quite possible. After all, Colonel Sheppard isn't really ten-thousand years old. He shouldn't be ableto remember Atlantis as she was back then. Still, there is no indication of the memory being manipulated in any way."

"You say that you remembered Atlantis, but what appears to be the past version of it, John?" Sam asked, wanting to confirm what she'd already been told. John had thought he'd hallucinated from the drugs Carson had given him, dreaming of the early days of Atlantis. But now Carson insisted that John had remembered something and that the memories appeared to be genuine. Sam needed to know how John felt about the whole situation. "What did it feel like?" Sam asked him, taking in his drawn and tired look.

"It was weird," John said. He was shifting in his bed uncomfortably and was rubbing his bandaged right hand, ignoring Carson's disapproving frown as he did so. "It was as if I was stuck in this Tural guy's body. I didn't have any control over my actions. I guess I was reliving his memory," John said and an annoyed look flittered over his face before he continued. "Chaya was there. They had an argument; something about them getting engaged. I … ah, I don't think he was really happy about that. He didn't want to marry her, but she was convinced he'd be hers one day. I'm pretty sure he was an Ancient. I guess when that statue zapped me, I got his memories somehow," John said, changing from rubbing his hand to massaging his temples carefully.

Sam sighed. She could still remember the pain and the tears that had pooled in Cam's eyes as he fought with the memories of murdering a woman; memories that hadn't been his own, that had been implanted into his mind, torturing him. She could still see Cam how he fought and struggled over and over again through the memories of strangling a woman with his own hands, just so the real murderer could be found. And it had been all for nothing in the end.

Now there was John who had memories that weren't his own and Sam just prayed he wouldn't be hurt by them, wouldn't have to suffer because of them as well. She liked John, he was a good guy, a friend, and Sam just hoped that Carson would be able to fix this, to make it right.

Sam turned to Carson again, looking at him searchingly, "Carson, can you get them out of him? Can you separate the memories that are not his own? You say they appear to be genuine, but we all know, they're not. Can't be, of course. So, is there a way to get them out of John without hurting him?"

"Yeah, Doc, can you get them out? 'Cause I'm feeling rather uncomfortable here and the thought of being engaged to Chaya, even though it's not me me, is … disturbing," John said, cringing obviously at the mental image. "And I'd rather not think of her any more than absolutely necessary," he added.

Shaking his head sadly, Carson said, "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. Not until Rodney and Radek find out what exactly the sculpture has done to you. I need to know how it happened to be able to reverse it. Right now, it's impossible to separate the new memories from the truly genuine ones. I'm sorry, but you will have to live with them until I can find a safe way to get the new memories out without taking away any of your own ones, or hurting you. I can put you on medication to help you sleep, if you need me to. That's all I can do for now I fear." Carson sounded truly sorry and more worried than Sam liked.

As she watched, John shook his head, saying, "No, I'm fine. I'm sure I'll survive a few days with this Tural guy's memories in my head. Rodney will figure it out."

Suppressing a sigh and forcing a smile, Sam replied, "I'm sure he will. Good night, John." She turned and left the infirmary, leaving John in Carson's capable hands.

oooooOooooo

It had been a week. A week of waking up disoriented, of stopping in the middle of a corridor, of zoning out in a meeting. Seven whole days of snatches of another life flashing in front of John's eyes with no idea of how to stop them. Rodney kept throwing him glances that were part helpless, part apologetic as he kept John close while he took the sculpture apart bit by bit.

John couldn't stand it anymore.

He knew where Tural had worked now, whom he spent his time with, and what he liked to eat for breakfast. He knew where Tural's favourite spot in Atlantis was, what he did when he felt helpless. John had been witness to fierce fights against the Wraith, the hopelessness the Ancients had felt when their enemy kept coming back, the fear at the gruesome death and the desperation with which a lot of them ascended because the thought of being eaten like they were some kind of animal was just too much.

If John hadn't already thought the Ancients were idiots on so many levels, he'd have known for sure right now. Most of them weren't just idiots, they were assholes as well. He'd tried to tell Rodney, Carter and the others, but not everybody's view of the people who had built not only the Stargate, but also the city they were living in, was as spoiled as John's. Nobody else had their own internal cinema that highlighted every slow decision, every denial for help for what were considered 'lesser' life forms. John had front row seats to a lot of them up to a point where he started to wonder if Tural was influential or something.

"John?"

He nearly fell off his chair at Carter's voice. The way she was looking at him was unsettling, like he was lost somehow, like she knew something he didn't. He hated it when she looked like that. "Sam?" he asked right back.

She put down her tray opposite him and the look she threw him made John profoundly uncomfortable. "How are you doing?"

"Great," John answered, keeping the 'it's driving me crazy' and 'make it stop, please' inside. "It's an interesting point of view, really. I always wanted to know how the Ancients lived when they weren't busy fucking everything up for everybody else." At least he had made Carter smile. "How far is Rodney with figuring out how to reverse this?"

"Last time I radioed him he just snapped at me that he's busy and to wait for the senior staff meeting," Carter said with a grimace. "I'm sure he'll tell us himself in half an hour."

John nodded, even though Carter's confident words didn't soothe him at all. After he'd taken the sculpture apart, Rodney hadn't wanted John around anymore. Probably because the easy solution they'd all been hoping for just hadn't materialized. The first five times Rodney had kicked John out of his lab for hovering and "disturbing my circles" John had taken to doing paperwork. Or trying to. It wasn't easy to focus if at any point he could end up walking the lively hallways of a city that was shiny and new, meeting people who had long ascended or died. It was damn disturbing actually.

They both dumped their trays together and silently walked to the conference room. John knew Carter wanted to ask questions about the Ancients, wanted to know how Atlantis had been back then. If he hadn't hated the whole thing so much he'd have indulged her nosy questions about the Ancient tech, but as it was, no-one bothered to ask him anymore. He'd put a stop to that very early. Once they had joined Carson at the conference table, Rodney and Radek came bustling in, both with grim expressions on their faces.

John felt the bottom of his stomach fall out; it was worse than a crash landing in a helicopter. Rodney didn't look that way when he had made a discovery, he didn't frown and his lips weren't pressed together in a thin line like that, if he had figured something out. Crap, John thought.

"It wasn't the sculpture," Rodney started to say before he had even sat down his laptop. "Maybe it initiated the memories when it shocked John, but it certainly didn't give him the memories."

Radek took over smoothly as Rodney sank into a chair and took a deep drink from his coffee. "Other device might have given memories. Could have been anything."

Rodney put down his cup a little too forcefully. At least there was barely anything left and it didn't spill. "He's touched a few hundred devices over the years and we still don't know what all of them did. Some just blinked a bit and then shut down and while we thought they were broken they might not have been. Right now we just don't know how John got the memories."

That sucked. So much. "You're saying I'm stuck with these memories popping up all the time?" He almost didn't ask the question for fear of the answer. However, John was a lot of things, but he wasn't a coward.

"Aye," Carson answered before Rodney could even open his mouth. "I'm afraid so. We can't remove the memories because they don't show up as foreign."

"Yes, yes, we all know that already, Carson, no need to repeat it at every opportunity you get," he said, then he turned his gaze on John for the first time since he had entered the room. It was very unsettling to be the focus of Rodney's complete attention, of all that brilliance. "Radek and I've been thinking about something else though. The main problem is that you can't do anything without being overwhelmed by a memory coming online, so to say, yes?"

John nodded hesitantly, not sure he would like what Rodney was going to say, but damn sure it might be better than his current position.

"Well, we now know that while the electroshock started the process, it's a certain neurotransmitter that activates the memories bit by bit. Cason agrees that with an injection of an artificial version of this neurotransmitter in the right amount, we could bring all the memories online at once and you'll stop …" he waved his hand in John's general direction "… zoning out in the corridors." It all came out in one breath and Rodney looked like he'd drawn the short straw on giving John the news. "Which would mean you could go off world again," he added hurriedly.

"But I'd still have all of Tural's memories?" he asked, not wanting them. John had his own nightmares, his own ghosts that haunted him. He didn't need Tural's as well.

Carson cleared his throat, looking even more nervous than Rodney. "Yes."

"And they'd be like what? Like my own memories?"

"They'd be as real, yes," Rodney said and there was a glimmer of greed in his eyes that made John want to get up and punch him.

Instead John folded his hands on the table top and leaned back a little. "That plan sucks," he said calmly. "I don't want that guy stuck in my head. He had a seriously fucked up life and I don't want his memories any more than I want to remember being fed on by a Wraith."

"Unless it stabilizes there is no way you can be cleared for active duty, though," Carter said seriously.

Right at that moment John hated them all. Hated the way he knew they all were excited to find out what Tural knew about Ancient tech. Hated the way there were questions in all their eyes, even Carson's. And he wished he had never touched that fucking sculpture in the first place. He wished he'd never even looked at that … thing. John didn't know how he could have thought that ugly piece of metal was actually beautiful. That piece of shit was ruining his life. "How about we try something else first?"

"Like what?" Rodney asked, his voice sharp.

There had to be another way aside from activating all the memories. There just had to. Maybe another Ancient device? Or one of their allies? Somebody. There was enough stuff scattered around in this galaxy to at least make it a possibility.

The Stargate engaged in front of him. Beautiful as ever. Tural/John felt excited beyond anything in his life. It'd be his very first journey through the gate with the purpose of seeding life on a planet they had cultivated for the last decade.

"Tural!"

He closed his eyes for a moment at the voice. Chaya. Of course she had to come and see him off or some such nonsense. Like he cared. Instead of answering her call he went through the gate at his Commander's signal.

"Chaya," John said and he could have kicked himself for not thinking about it sooner. She was the only Ancient they knew about, the only one who was accessible. "We should talk to her. Maybe she can help. I'm not supposed to have these memories after all, and the Ancients might see them as interference and remove them from me." Even as he said it he tensed in anticipation of meeting Chaya again. The thought was anything but pleasurable. Damn it, John thought helplessly. Already Tural's memories had changed his perception. He'd liked Chaya, enough to take her out, enough to kiss her. If things had been different, there could have been more between them. Maybe. She'd been perfect. Beautiful, fun, kind. "It's worth a try, isn't it?"

Rodney had started frowning at the mention of Chaya, but he just nodded, not saying anything at all. Grateful for small mercies, John accepted that as the best he could get.

"You have a go on that, but take Major Lorne with you," Carter decided. "If that doesn't work we can still come up with something else."

And just like that SGA-1 was heading back to Proculus with another 'gate team to cover them and Evan to take lead while John was having lapses in memory.

oooooOooooo

"John," Chaya greeted him happily as she glided down the stone steps to meet him. The others had been forced to wait in another courtyard. He wished his team could be here, but the high priest had told him that she wanted to see just him.

Without actually wanting to, he recoiled from her, Tural's distaste bleeding through as if it was his own. "Chaya," he said, his voice as neutral as he could make it, "it's good to see you again."

She smiled and stopped, too close to him. "Yes, it is good to see you as well. I was hoping you would visit again sooner. What brings you here?"

For a moment John wished that Rodney was there, even though he had ordered Rodney to 'shut up and don't say anything until we're back in Atlantis'. It'd have been so easy to just look at him and let him do all the talking – because when did Rodney ever follow orders or shut up? He'd at least be a familiar presence in his back. "I have a little problem," John hedged instead, wishing this would be easier as his eyes slid away from her. He didn't even want to look at her. "Somehow I happened to get the memories of a guy called Tural and they're starting to seriously disrupt my life. I was hoping you could help me get rid of them."

At a startled gasp from Chaya, John looked at her again. She had tensed but her face was practically glowing with happiness. "These are good news, Tural, very good news," she chirped.

"I'm not Tural," John hissed, forgetting that he wanted help from Chaya. "I'm John Sheppard, and I want my fucking life back."

Chaya's smile just grew as she looked him up and down like he was for sale. "What are we but our memories?" she asked, stepping even closer. "I told you that you would be mine one day, and this day is now. Stay with me, Tural, be my mate, as we were supposed to be. As our parents ordained it. My people would offer the same courtesies to you as they do to me. We can protect them for the rest of eternity, together, once you leave your human life behind you and ascend."

Feeling physically ill, John couldn't do anything but stare at her. She couldn't mean that for real, could she? Only when she reached out and touched his arm did he shake off the feeling of being frozen and took a few steps back, out of her reach. "You're crazy," he said, backing up again as she moved closer. "I'm not him just because I have his memories."

"Oh, but you will be."

That sounded so much like a threat that John wished he hadn't left Atlantis unarmed. Carson had asked him to; apparently being caught up in memories wasn't conductive to not shooting things. He'd very much like to shoot Chaya right now, even though Tural had never felt violent towards her. Ha. He so wasn't Tural. Take that, Chaya.

"I have waited a long time for this day, Tural. The fact that you did feel attracted to me, that you wanted to be with me and help me when you didn't know yet who you truly are, just serves to prove my theory. We are meant to be. It is only due to your stubbornness that we were not married like our parents wanted us to be, the last time," she smiled one of her creepy smiles and John could see something akin to greed in her eyes. This woman was seriously disturbed.

"I repeat, I am not him, just because I have his memories," John snapped, stepping away from her, the urge to bring distance between the two of them overwhelming. "I have no idea what you did to piss him off, but that guy seriously didn't like you. And now, I am starting to seriously not like you, either. So if you are interested in staying in friendly contact, you better get this guy's memories out of my head 'cause right now, they're not helping in that regard. I'm feeling positively hostile against you and you can't like that," John forced himself to smile at her, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He felt off balance and vulnerable and he was afraid he'd one of those memory flashes anytime now, leaving him completely exposed to whatever Chaya had in mind.

"I admit, I liked your John Sheppard persona better, Tural," Chaya said with a frown, moving into John's personal space again. "But I am not interested in taking away what is rightfully yours again. Stay with me, Tural. I promise you, you will have a good life with me." She reached for him, rubbing his shoulder appreciatively and John wanted nothing more but to run. But he forced himself to stay still and listen. Something very weird was going on here.

"We can be together. You should be with your own race, not forced to watch over this small group of descendants, making sure they don't set the city on fire and get hurt. You are not being punished, Tural. You are not the one chained to a planet doomed to play babysitter and die of boredom. You are not confined to the city. You can choose to be with me. With the right … incentive … you could soar. I'm sure along with your memories, your powers will be back one day, my love. And then nothing will be able to stop us."

"You're seriously disturbed, lady," John spat angrily. "Getting this guy's memories doesn't make me an Ancient, or give me any powers. I'm human, born and raised on Earth. I was hurt and almost died more times I want to remember and I've got the scars to prove it. So I'd appreciate if you didn't run around calling me by the name of a guy who's long dead or ascended." John glared at her before turning around and walking away. "I'm done with you," he called over his shoulder.

Making his way swiftly back to his team, John noticed that everyone's attention was on him when he arrived in the courtyard. Without slowing his stride, John snapped, "We're leaving. This was a complete waste of time." He didn't look at anyone as he walked past his team in the direction of the 'jumper.

"You're making a mistake, Tural," Chaya's voice came from behind him and John whirled around, glaring at her.

John could see Rodney's looking back and forth between the two of them before he asked, "Did she just call you 'Tural'?" in that alarmed, strained voice he got whenever they were in serious trouble.

"I said we're leaving," John said by way of answer, adding a "she's completely nuts" for good measure. Still, he was surprised when Rodney followed him wordlessly.

oooooOooooo

"Just do it." If Carson didn't stop fussing right now, John would be forced to do something drastic. What Rodney jokingly called "Sentinel moments" had started to become more frequent once they had left Proculus, as if meeting Chaya had been some kind of catalyst.

They had put him in a private room and restrained him. He didn't like it one bit, but Carson said it was very possible he could hurt himself as the memories were activated. John had almost laughed at that, but everybody had been watching him with such worried expressions and he'd swallowed it down. They didn't need to know how close to hysterics he was. How afraid he was. How much what Chaya had said scared him.

Those nightmares, they weren't just Tural's nightmares.

Because John was sure that Chaya had said the truth, at least on that account. There was a whole ton he felt she had left out. Important things. You are not being punished, Tural, she'd said. But if he wasn't being punished, then what was this? As far as John knew that was the only reason why he was human if he really was an Ancient after all. But was he? Was he really? Or was Chaya more unhinged than he'd thought?

John didn't know what to believe. If these memories were fake and he'd picked them up from one of the Ancient devices he'd touched over the past five years, then he might never get rid of them again. He'd have a long ascended guy inside his head. If he actually was Tural, then he was a descended Ancient. And John truly didn't know what scared him more.

"You sure, lad?" Carson asked, his eyes full of misery. He genuinely didn't want to do this.

John closed his eyes and sighed. "Yes, go on," he said. This was his only chance of getting back into the field quickly. He would be damned if either of the two possibilities would keep him from doing his job even longer than they already had.

The needle didn't hurt a lot when it slipped into his arm and then ... then John went crazy.

"Tural! Wait up for me!" a man called out to him from behind. But as soon as John turned around his surroundings changed to the conference room. And as his eyes ran down the line of the people sitting there he recognized every one of them. The voices mingled together as the images in front of his eyes flickered at an alarming rate.

A conversation rose above the din of voices in John's head until he couldn't help but listen. "You can't be serious. The Wraith are going to destroy us if we stay here," a woman said. Not Chaya, though, and for that John was grateful.

"So let them! They are our responsibility. We made them. Should we not stand up to protect them and the life we created in this galaxy? Should we just run away like scared children?" John/Tural said, feeling disgusted by what the others wanted to do.

"You truly believe we should sacrifice ourselves, our ascension, to a few primitive races that the council insisted we make? Your stupid pride will be our downfall!"

The cacophony of voices and pictures in his head intensified until it all slipped away into the balm of darkness.

oooooOooooo

John woke to the faint murmur and bustle that was the Atlantis infirmary. No, not John. Tural. He was Tural. Well, had been anyway, since his memories as John Sheppard were as real as the ones he had from his life as Tural.

His life as Tural.

His first life.

Ten-thousand years ago. Before he was forced to leave Atlantis behind. Before he was forced to abandon everything he cared for, everything that mattered to him. Before they left all the people they had created, all the life-forms they had so much hope for, to die at the hand of the Wraith.

Like the bunch of egoistical cowards John had always thought the Ancients to be. Now he had proof. His memories were pretty clear on that point.

Flexing his hands carefully, John was amazed how different and yet similar this body was to his former one. His looks were a little off – after a few thousand years of not being able to look into a mirror, you kinda forgot how you really had looked like – but still similar enough to be easily recognized.

What unsettled John more was the raw power he remembered having at his disposal. He knew he had been sent back in a human form for a reason, but he also knew that his physique had to be special if he was dealing with his – Tural's – memories as well. So theoretically, he should have at least some of his powers, shouldn't he?

Not that he was too keen on … John's thoughts came to a halt. When had he accepted so readily that he actually was Tural and that all of this wasn't just a case of transferred memories? Sure, he remembered seeing himself in the mirror, as Tural. He remembered how he had been a pilot even back then, and how the … gateships … 'jumpers … had been one of his favourite 'toys'.

No, there was no doubt in John's mind that he had been the Ancient called Tural. Even Chaya had said so and she after all had vested interest in his identity.

Knowing that there was little he could, little he was still able and allowed to do; John suddenly felt tired. Tired and old. Sad. It was frustrating to be reminded of his limits once more when all he wanted to do was help and make up for the mistakes they'd made back then. That was his purpose, it was his task.

His memories were back. All of his memories. Even the ones from the day he had decided to go back to Earth as a human newborn child.

Tural's own parents had called him foolish to give up ascension for a bunch of stupid, primitive humans who were no longer of their concern. They had survived as long as they did and would go on to survive on their own somehow, so why bother.

Only a few of Tural's friends, like Leeana and Oniph had supported his decision. Even though Leeana had been concerned. "Are you sure that is what you want, Tural? We'll do what we can, but you may not be able to return to Atlantis for a long time to come and you will live as a human until then. Are you certain you want to take that risk?"

But John had been certain. The people of Pegasus were his responsibility. Their responsibility, to be precise. But his peers had made it clear that they wouldn't do anything but look on as their descendants and the people they had basically created died at the hands of the enemy they had made as well. And that wasn't right. Not for Tural and certainly not for John.

He frowned at the way his own mind kept the two entities apart. It wasn't like he felt schizophrenic, wasn't like he had two people in his head. He was still … him. There was no change in the way he felt about Atlantis, about Earth, about the people he had surrounded himself with. He still felt the fierce loyalty that had led him to sacrifice himself for the better of the expedition more than once. John and Tural? Not so different from each other. Just a different name for the same person, he decided.

John Sheppard. That's who he was. The tension in his body he hadn't even been aware of drained out of John and he took a deep breath. It'd take time to settle; John knew that. But the old memories wouldn't render him helpless anymore, because now they were back where they belonged. And if it hadn't been for that ugly thing Leris had liked to call a sculpture, he'd still be unaware of what he was. He'd have to thank her for that later. Much later. Much, much later.

His fingers curled into a fist as he felt for the thread of power inside of him. Something that had never been missing actually; John just hadn't been able to know it for what it really was. They were there. Well, some of them anyway. They'd really pushed the limits of what was allowable with him. He was so close to ascension he could almost feel it. A small push on his side was all that was needed and he'd be there again. Back in the same, boring, confined existence he'd been in for millennia. Mostly lonely, his hands tied by stupid non-interference rules. Unable to help like he'd always thought his people should. Stupid rules made by stupid people who had never bled for anything in their life. Cowards who had never been at the front lines, who had ascended to the higher plane before the Wraith had developed into the threat they had become. People who had been old before Tural had even been born and who hadn't cared for others before they had advanced beyond the need for a body.

Teer had known. So had Chaya. They had both known what he was, who he was, and had both wanted for him to ascend for them, with them. Anger welled up in John at that. Both of them had to have known about his mission, about what he was supposed to do. It was like a slap in the face, really. His people couldn't care less about the lives that were lost. They didn't care enough about the Ori either. Let them fend for themselves, had been what most had said. The Ori will never come, Earth is safe, do not worry. God. John felt like throwing up, felt like calling for his brothers and sisters and telling them that they were wrong, oh so wrong. That humankind was too inquisitive, too nosy, too ... human to stay put. He'd always told them that one day their descendants would find a way, would travel the galaxy and they would travel beyond the boundaries of their home and into the arms of the Lantean's greatest enemy – or the Ori. Or both. And hadn't he been right? Hadn't he been right?

Hell yes. Even though he really wished he hadn't been. There was nothing he wished more. Leeana, Oniph, Lissal, Lendri ... we did the right thing, went down the correct path, he thought, thankful for the course of action he had chosen. Most of the Ancients hadn't cared what they were doing anyway. As long as the rules were obeyed, nobody cared about anything. They'd damn well made sure to obey every single rule in existence for them.

And now? Now John was somewhat outside of the rules.

Free of a lot of the restraints put on him, free to serve his people again and to protect. Like he was supposed to. Tural had been a protector of Atlantis for most of his adult life, just like John had been a part of the Air Force. The others probably hadn't even needed to nudge him that way; Tural had never wanted to be anything else.

He blinked. Suddenly becoming aware of his immediate surroundings for the first time since he'd woken up. Aware that someone was standing beside his bed, talking to him constantly, reassuringly. John blinked again, then turned his head to look at Rodney. Seated in one of the ugly, uncomfortable plastic chairs they had brought from Earth, a laptop balanced precariously on his knees, typing away and muttering about his work.

John blinked again as he felt the memories settling inside of him comfortably. Sharp and clear as they had always been, his own memories of life on Earth going from fuzzy to clean in the space of seconds. Perfect recall. John chuckled. How had they even managed to suppress that? He didn't want to know.

"John?" Rodney had stopped typing and was now looking at him with fear in his impossibly wide, blue eyes.

He reached out to pat Rodney's hand, stopped by the restraints. Frowning, John tugged at them, but his memory finally snapped into place and he remembered the reason for the restraints.

"John?"

Oh. Yes. Rodney was talking to him. His name a wealth of questions that John had always been able to understand. "I'm okay," he said, his voice unnaturally rough. "I guess the memories didn't come easily." That was more than just a guess. John shuddered. If he'd known before what he knew now he'd never have gone through with it. The memories would have come back by themselves once the process had started and it'd have accelerated as his body changed to accommodate them. Forcing the change had most likely been painful and John was glad he couldn't actually recall any of that.

Rodney's face said it all before he started talking. "It was terrible. You were screaming and writhing and I thought you were going to die."

"It's alright, I'm fine now," John soothed, sensing the fear that was rolling off of Rodney in large waves. "I can't remember any of it." He hadn't really tried too hard though. "Probably for the best," he said. Rodney didn't need to know that John didn't want to remember anything, that John knew exactly how bad it had to have been. "How long was I out?"

"About ten hours." Rodney closed the laptop and put it onto the bedside table. He looked like hell. "Your eyes were open most of the time, but you didn't seem to recognize anything," the words came out softly, relieved. "You okay?"

John had forgotten how strange it was to feel what other people felt, to almost hear their thoughts whisper inside his head when he didn't concentrate properly on his shielding. Suddenly he felt tired and the gentle up and down of Rodney's near-thoughts put his mind to rest. "I'll be fine," he mumbled, "just fine."

Looked like you were dying, oh God, don't die, don't die. Need you here. The screams, the screams – no, don't think about that, he said he'll be fine, he'll be– And with that, John slipped into sleep.

oooooOooooo

"So?" Carter asked, her eyes shining brightly with curiosity.

"So what?" John asked back. He hadn't even really sat down at the conference table yet, but he'd expected the question. Actually, he was genuinely surprised he hadn't been asked for anything up to now. Sure, Beckett would have kicked them out of the infirmary, but no-one had approached him during the week he'd been on forced leave. Rodney hadn't so much as looked curiously at him. It was downright disconcerting and he'd wondered if Rodney had come down with an illness for a moment until he realized that he was just being considerate.

She leaned forward, her arms folded on the table, looking tense. "What do you remember? What did Tural know about Ancient technology? Did he know anything at all about ZPMs?"

Of course that was what she'd like to know. He could have guessed. "It's all a bit muddled, actually," he lied, composing his face in an expression of puzzlement. "Carson said it was because the memories settled so quickly and that I'll remember a bit here or there."

With a soft, disappointed 'oh' Carter sank back into her chair.

"As far as I can tell, Tural wasn't very good with technology at all. He was a protector of Atlantis, though" John said, gently, carefully. "The last line of defense of a people peaceful to the point of indolence. Actually, he was a lot like me." He couldn't help smiling a little at that. "A soldier, mainly."

Carter frowned, then muttered, "So you've got nothing about recharging ZPMs then?"

John laughed, "Nope. Sorry." Rodney rushed in right then, stopping Carter from asking any more questions that John really didn't want to answer, Ronon and Teyla following more slowly behind the whirlwind that was Rodney McKay. Maybe they'd accept that he didn't know anything and leave him be about it and allow him to be John, just John. At least for a bit longer maybe. Forever if he could. He didn't want to see them turn to him for everything, didn't want to feel their eyes on his back, expecting miracles from him every day. Expect them to save him. He wanted these people to soar, to grow beyond what they were, not diminish them by solving all their problems for them with a snap of his fingers.

"What did you do this time?" Rodney asked, dropping down in the chair beside John.

"Nothing," John defended himself automatically, but grinned in response to the goofy smile on Rodney's face. He watched as his team settled down, sharing smiles with Teyla and Ronon as well. For a moment he searched his memories, trying to remember if he'd ever felt so close to anyone. Back, when he had still been Tural, when he had been ascended, or even before he'd come home, to Atlantis. "So, where are we going tomorrow, Rodney?"

"M59-S28. According to the database there is an outpost there," Rodney said, launching into a lengthy explanation John tuned out.

Nope. He'd never felt like he'd belonged. Not like this. Not like it mattered. Watching Rodney talk animatedly about energy readings with Teyla looking interested and Ronon leaning back, his arms crossed with a 'I really don't care as long as I get to shoot something' expression on his face, John felt a kind of peace he'd never felt before in all his existence.

The End.

Continue reading by going to the next chapter to read: Total Recall 2 - Love changes everything … and nothing

Cassandra's Author Notes: I loved writing this story and I think I might have run away with it at one point. But then, Mel didn't seem to mind too much, thankfully. Also, if you can point out the Doctor Who quote I slipped in you'll get a virtual chocolate chip cookie!

Melinda's Author Notes: At first I thought we shouldn't do this, exactly because I knew Cass was totally taken with the idea and she would run away with it, far and fast. But then I thought 'oh, wtf, why not?' and just went with the flow. Turns out this was (and still is since we're writing on the next part already) a lot of fun.