The Ghosts of Atlantis

AUTHOR: Reyson

SPOILERS: All episodes from season 2 are fair game (specific spoilers for chap 1 are Rising & Defiant One). Also mentioned is Pegasus Project (from SG1)

CHARACTERS: Sheppard, McKay, O'Neill, Weir, Teyla, Ronon, Carson, Zelenka & Lorne.

CATEGORY: Mystery/Suspense/Angst

RATING: General, T for violence and language

SUMMARY: Mysterious ghosts are appearing in Atlantis trying to harm its inhabitants. The race is on to solve the mystery and save Sheppard and others from murderous ghosts intend on taking lives.

FEEDBACK: Yes please, it'll keep the plot bunnies happy.

DISCLAIMER: This story was written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. Stargate Atlantis, its characters, storyline and anything shown on the series itself belong to the respective parties who created them. All other original ideas, characters and story created here is the property of the author. This disclaimer applies to all future chapters of this tale.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: Thanks to ESCotLoE for her beta. All other mistakes are mine. This fic was inspired after reading the writing challenge created by PyroDragon2006 in "Color Blind".

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AN: First off, my apologies. The plot bunnies have suddenly multiplied dramatically, resulting in them attacking the writer with this tale and refusing to let her go until it was written. This is in response to PyroDragon2006's writing challenge in their fic "Color Blind". My version will be more spooky than funny. Also Jack O'Neill is in this fic as it's part of the writing challenge requirement.

Like all writers here, I get no profit out of this except for the joy of writing and for reviews from readers who enjoy it and are kind enough to let me know.

oOo

1: Sins of the past

Lt. Colonel John Sheppard awoke with a start and a gasp, drenched in cold sweat, as his eyes snapped open to gaze glassily at the ceiling of his living quarters. It took him a while to realize that it was still raining heavily outside; the storm had not yet subsided. Lightning from the turbulent skies above reflected through the streamline openings of his window's blinds, casting an eerie play of light and shadows that danced unpredictably in his room. The words of 'It was a dark and stormy night...' came to mind. It seemed appropriate to Sheppard, seeing that he had just woken up from a nightmare that he would rather soon forget. It had been a long time since he had experienced that nightmare, that is, until recently, where the same nightmare had repeated itself over and over again for three nights in a row. It seemed odd, unnatural somehow. He thought he had gotten over the overpowering sense of guilt that he had experienced almost two and a half years ago. Now, he wasn't so sure.

As Sheppard's sleep fogged mind tried to register why he was having the nightmares again, it didn't take him long to realize that there was something else currently present in his living quarters. He sensed a wrongness, an eerie presence that wasn't meant to be. It made the hairs on his skin stand on edge with a creepy crawly sensation that there was danger present. He jerked forward, sitting up straight, pushing the bed coverings out of the way. More flashes of lightning occurred followed closely by booming thunder, and in the illuminated flashes of lightning, his eyes widened when he saw the pale, corpse like man who haunted his nightmares these past nights, watching him intensely with burning hatred in his eyes.

At the sight of the apparition standing at the foot of his bed, John's hand instantly reached for the sidearm that he kept close on his nightstand. He used to have nightmares about this man during his first year at Atlantis, but over time, the dreams had subsided considerably. All logic dictated that the man couldn't possibly be there, for Colonel Marshal Sumner was dead and had been dead for more than two and half years. Sheppard had been forced to kill his commanding officer when the Wraith queen had almost completed feeding on him. The sight of the man was like a shock to the system. Sumner looked unnaturally pale and creepy, just like a typical ghost would.

'I see dead people...' The uncomfortable thought came to Sheppard's mind at the sight of the ghoulish presence of his dead commanding officer standing before him. For the first time in his life, John knew how that kid in the movie felt. If he confessed to Atlantis' resident psychologist, Kate Heightmeyer, that he saw dead people, she would have a field day with him. Somehow the thought of Kate and him discussing this specific topic brought to mind the image of a cat gleefully hunting a mouse, with him being the mouse. He didn't know which scared him more, facing his dead CO or revealing to Kate that he had faced his dead CO on a dark and stormy night. Somehow he felt the latter; his mind was his own, and that went along with his privacy. He didn't have anything against Kate herself, but he had a thing against psychologists, whom he felt loved to dig up past events that best remained buried. They always wanted to know how you felt at a certain time, how you were feeling presently, how you thought you were coping with a particular trauma, and John wasn't the kind of person who liked talking about his feelings or his thoughts for that matter. He dealt with things his own way, and so far, he seemed to be handling things pretty well, except for now... Now, he was seeing dead people... the ghost of Colonel Marshal Sumner no less.

Sheppard noticed that there was a strange ghostly aura that shimmered around Sumner as the man glared accusingly at him with dark haunted eyes that spoke volumes. Cold sweat dripped down from Sheppard's forehead as he stared back at the ghost of Colonel Sumner. John was not normally a man who believed in such things as ghosts, so he was finding it extremely difficult to accept the sight of the dead man standing in his living quarters.

"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked the phantom image of his dead CO. He could feel his heart hammering loudly in his chest. Sheppard rubbed his eyes, trying to shake the cobwebs out of his brain, hoping to discover that this was some sort of bad dream. But despite scrubbing his eyes and even pinching himself hard, twice, the ghostly image of Marshal Sumner remained standing at the foot of his bed. He wondered whether he was hallucinating, but as he didn't recall having a high fever, he had to dismiss hallucinations as the cause of what was he saw before him. There was of course two other explanations: one, that the presence before him was an alien entity of some kind taking the form of Marshal Sumner, and the other, that it might really be the ghost of his CO somehow come back to haunt him for his past sins. He refused to consider the possibility that this might be the real ghost of Colonel Sumner, so that left only the alien entity theory. The thing was, what was an alien doing in his quarters right now, and why did it choose the image of his dead CO?

Sumner was now glaring at him long and hard in that familiar disapproving manner which Sheppard clearly remembered. It was the same look that Sumner had given him when he first joined the Atlantis expedition, just after Dr Weir's speech when they were about to go through the Stargate for the first time. He still recalled Sumner's curt greeting to him: "Let me make myself clear Major, you are not here by my choice."

Unexpectedly, the apparition of Sumner shook his head, tilted his head backwards and broke into an eerie, ghostly laugh as if he could read John's thoughts. The phantom's next words confirmed that he could. "Soooo youuu still remeeeembered that, Sheppard? And I meeaant every daaammmn wooorrrd of it too!"

The apparition spoke in a dark echoing voice, that stretched out certain words for dramatic effect, very much like the voice one would expect from the undead. It reminded Sheppard of all the typical ghost stories that he had heard as a kid, and it lived up to very single scary expectation, except for the absence of jangling ghostly chains. He wondered whether this was the ghost of Christmas past come to haunt him for pass failures. After all, it was a few months short of Christmas. Yet, he found that difficult to believe, for he did not believe in ghosts.

When the apparition finished laughing, his features morphed into a look of amusement as he paused to answer Sheppard's initial question.

"Dammmmn youuu, Sheppard! First you shooooot me instead of rescuuuing me, and now you aaaasssk who I am?" The creepy and unearthly tone in the apparition's voice continued; it set Sheppard's skin crawling and his hairs on end. Despite the ghostly tone, the voice was still very much like the Marshal Sumner whom Sheppard knew and remembered. In spite of himself, and what he told himself, more and more he began to feel that this might really be the ghost of Marshal Sumner. "I thoouught you would have recogniiiized me well enough seeing that I haaaaunt your dreams offften enough. After aaall, Sheppard, I see you're stiiiill keeping my dog tags as a memeeennnto." Sumner nodded towards the said item on the table where Sheppard kept it.

Sheppard turned to look at the tags of the dead man, his frown darkening as he pointed his weapon at the bluish gray phantom. "Colonel Marshal Sumner is dead. You're not him, you're something else. Now I ask you again, who are you really, and what do you want?"

Sumner's face changed from the look of amusement into one of anger and hatred. "I'm here for youuuu, Sheppard! I waaaant my reveeeenge. You should have saaaaved me, Major! But instead you saved everyone else, even those Athoooosian fools, but you were too late to saaaave me! If you had come a little faaaster, acted a little sooooner, you could have saaaaved me. I counted on you, Sheppard, I was waiting for you to proooove yourself, that someone with your blaaaack record of not following the chaaaain of command could redeeeeem himself. I should have never truusssted you Sheppard, nor put my liffffe in your hands, for what did I get... instead? DEATH! While you got a promotion at mmmmy expense! You are a Lt. Colonel now because I'm deeeaad and you're still alive!" As he accused Sheppard, Sumner's face suddenly began to age dramatically, as if he was having his life sucked out by the Wraith queen. Within minutes he looked sunken and corpse like, close to death as he would ever be—the image that haunted Sheppard's dream when he had aimed his weapon and shot Sumner two and a half years ago.

"Help me, Sheppard!" It cried. "Help me!... Saaaaave meeee!"

Sheppard felt as if there was a tight fist clutching his heart as he stared at the dying form of Colonel Marshal Sumner. It was as if he was reliving what he had experienced in the past, but without a Wraith queen this time. "I can't..." he whispered in desperation. "I... can't..."

The ghostly image of Sumner morphed back to his younger self again and gave John an evil, haunted look. He glared at Sheppard, and the force of his hatred was enough to shake John to the core. "I am heeeere for retribution, Sheppard. I was muuurdered by your haaands, and I am heeere to collect the payment."

The words of the apparition hit Sheppard hard almost like a physical blow to the body and deep within he felt an overwhelming guilt enfold him. The words were ones that he had battled within himself for many sleepless nights, especially during the early days after Sumner's death. He had never really forgiven himself for his failure to save his commanding officer, and to hear the words out from Sumner's voice was like making it true. "The Wraith queen was killing you! I saw your nod, your gesture of approval, I thought you wanted me to end your pain! I know that that was what I would have wanted!" Sheppard could not stop his explanation from escaping though wooden lips. He could not stop himself from wanting redemption from the ghost of his former CO.

"NOOO!" Phantom Sumner shrieked. "I wanted you to saaaave me! I wanted you to kiiiill that damn thing that was suuuucking the life ooouuuut of me!"

The guilt tightened its hold like a vice around him. Never in his life had Sheppard regretted arriving so late to the scene. If only he could have arrived sooner, he might have been able to save Sumner. He thought he had gotten past this, he thought he had dealt with the guilt he had over Sumner's death, but to hear this apparition, whatever it was, fling such accusations at him was difficult to say the least.

The pilot shook his head, his eyes tightening. "No! You're not real! You're not Colonel Sumner!" he cried, trying to convince himself that it was so; it was the only logical explanation that he had. He knew he had done the right thing, he had to believe that. To think otherwise would mean that he wouldn't be able to trust himself—to know that he had made a mistake from what he believed his CO wanted. "You're not even real... perhaps you're a holographic image of some kind, here to play mind tricks on me."

"Oh, I'm very veeerrrry reeeaaal all right," Sumner replied with a glint of evil in his luminous eyes. "And to prooove it..., here's a little memento, and it's mooore than just dog tags this time."

Lightning and thunder boomed simultaneously then, flooding John's living quarters in stark white flashes of light. Through the flashes of lightning, Sheppard saw Colonel Sumner break into a cruel, menacing grin. This was followed shortly by evil, maniacal laughter. A strange lethal looking spear suddenly appeared in Sumner's hand. With another evil, maniacal laugh, he threw it at Sheppard screaming "Die! Sheppard! Dieeeee!"

John's eyes widened at seeing the spear being flung in his direction. With a curse, he dived off from the bed. Instinctive reflexes took over, and he brought up his 9mm and shot a round at phantom Sumner. The alien spear hit with an impressive thud into the mattress of his bed where Sheppard had been sitting only seconds before. Whipping around, John saw his bullets slice harmlessly through Sumner like rippled water to slam against the wall behind it. Before Sheppard could react, another spear magically appeared in Sumner's hand, then another. Armed with two spears now, he threw one first, then another at John.

"Shit!" John exclaimed, his eyes widened as he made another mad dash for cover, the first spear missed him by quite a good margin, however, phantom Sumner seemed to anticipate Sheppard's next move and to the pilot's horror, he was flung backwards across the room as the second spear struck him full force in the left shoulder. Red hot agony tore through Sheppard's shoulder and his vision threatened to gray out as he hit the cold hard floor from the spear's deep impact. Agonizing pain crashed through Sheppard like tidal waves of exploding daggers as he gasped in shock at what had occurred. From where he lay, he still couldn't grasp what had just happened. He couldn't believe that the ghost of Marshal Sumner was trying to kill him. Something crossed his field of vision and he found himself staring up at the ghost of his former commanding officer, John's hands weakly grasping against the bloody shaft impaled in his shoulder. He looked up at Sumner's gloating features in shock and pain, seeing his death written in the face of his former CO.

"Goooood bye, Sheppard. I'll seeeee you in the afterlife," Sumner said softly to him. Sumner's voice held no forgiveness, no pity, only cruel indifference. Already Sheppard was starting to feel cold, he knew that he was going into shock from his injury. The last thing John remembered before he lost consciousness was seeing the image of Sumner dissipate in front of his eyes, like mists that had never been. The spear that had impaled him remained there for a moment longer, then it too vanished. With the spear no longer there, red hot blood suddenly started to spurt out from the hole in Sheppard's shoulder. Lt. Colonel John Sheppard made no sound as he bled unconscious on the floor.

oOo

Dr Rodney McKay was working late in his lab when he heard the unusual sound of someone clearing his throat. "Roddddney?" He heard a hauntingly familiar voice call his name, a voice that he had not heard for a very long time except in dreams that had haunted him for three nights in a row. Looking up hesitantly as if afraid of what he would see, his eyes widened and he gasped aloud in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish in shocked horror. "Gall? Oh God! How how how is this possible? You... you can't be here! I.. I must be loosing it! I must be working too hard..., perhaps I'm, I'm .. yes, that's it! I'm experiencing a nervous breakdown!"

Rodney started to pace back and forth rapidly in nervous energy, waving his hands around wildly as he went. Then he paused to feel his own forehead as he tested himself for a fever. "Hmm, I don't feel warm, so it can't be a fever." He turned to look at what he was seeing again; a lightbulb seemed to light up his features as an idea formed and he snapped his fingers. "Yes! Perhaps it's something that I ate that's causing some sort of hallucinate reaction! Yes, that could be it... Maybe, maybe it was that meatloaf I ate for dinner..., I thought that it tasted funny... or maybe that new Athosian dish, what was it called? Hallo or Hanarkine? Yes that's it!... Oh thank God! I'm not experiencing a nervous breakdown, no, no, can't have that... After all I'm the Chief Science Officer, the Head of the Scientific Community, I can't be nuts! This, this is just a hallucination ... a hallucination from eating something bad, or... or maybe I've just eaten too much.."

"Oh I'm verrrry real all right, Rodddney, and you're gonnnna be sorry for what you did to me..." The ghostly apparition stated softly in an eerie raspy voice.

"You.. you're, you're dead!" Rodney squeaked the last two words in a high pitched tone.

The phantom of Dr Brendan Gall who had shot and killed himself a little more than two years ago looked up at Rodney and gave him a wry smile. Rodney saw that Gall still looked old. The term 'half-eaten' came unbidden to his mind.

"I still aaaam." Gall replied with a ghostly hysterical kind of laugh.

"Wha, what, what are you doing here? What do you... want?" Rodney asked guardedly, frantically looking around and wondering whether he could get to the alarm button that was located at the corner wall of his lab.

The softness of Gall's face suddenly changed, morphing into furious anger. "Youuuu!" He shrieked. "I want youuu! I wanted youuuu to saaaave me!"

Rodney paled visibly. "I wanted to save you, Brendan, really I did! But... but, you shot yourself! You freaking took that gun and damn well shot yourself!" Rodney yelled back at the apparition that was Gall, his features turning a little redder with emotion.

"But thaaat's because you wouldn't leeeave to go help Sheppard! I had to doooo something soooo that you would go, I begged you to go! I was huuuurting, I wanted help! I kneeeew that you needed to help Sheppard! You saaaaid so yourself that you waaanted to help Sheppard. If you diiiidn't go, that centuries old super wraith would have kiiiilled Sheppard, then it would have come back and fed on the both of us! It's yooour fault that I am dead! You fooorced me to do what I did! You should have saaaved me, Rodney! I cooounted on you! It's all your faaaault that I'm dead!"

Rodney blanched, shaking his head furiously side to side as he closed his eyes tightly for a moment. "No, no, that's not true! I... I tried to save you, really I did! No, you're not real, no, you can't be real! Oh God! This can't be happening! This can't be real!" Rodney suddenly looked up, suddenly snapping his fingers. "I know! You must be a nightmare! I must be dreaming! I must have fallen asleep while working in the lab!" He closed his eyes and pinched himself hard. "Ow!"

He heard Gall laugh. "Oh this is VERY real, Rodney! All of youuuul will find out that this is veeeery reaaal..."

The ominous words didn't sound good at all. Rodney heard a faint clicking sound, and he opened his eyes to see Gall aiming a gun at him, probably the same gun that he had shot himself with. "Goodbye Rodney," Gall said as he pulled the trigger.

"Oh crap!" Rodney screamed as he ducked just in time behind his lab desk. The bullet hit the side of the desk and ricocheted off to one side sending small splinters flying in all directions. Rodney whimpered behind his desk, cowering and folding his hands above his head. His heart was racing like a wild jack rabbit about to have a fit. The bottom tip of his ear felt wet and painful, touching it, he found his hand wet with blood. It looked like one of the small splinters had cut his ear. "Oh God! I've been decapitated!" he stammered in horror at the blood on his hand. From the blood rushing through his ears and the pounding of his rapid heart, it took him a while to realize that his lab had gone suddenly quiet.

"Gall?" he called out tentatively, looking towards the last sighting of the dead man. There was no reply, for what seemed like a long time, Rodney sat there quivering like a mouse. However, after a while, when he realized that there was no more gun shots or noise, Rodney felt brave enough to take a peek out from under his cover. "Brendan?" he called out the name again. This time he saw that there was nobody there. The ghost of Dr Brendan Gall was gone.

oOo

TBC

Feedback is appreciated.