99% of your IOA acquaintances think you’ve lost your mind when you volunteer to lead the Atlantis expedition back to the galaxy that held vampiric space aliens. Most have expected you to find yourself a desk job, preferably one where you could wield influence imperceptibly. Surely this ought to be your priority, after a year of constantly fearing for your life?
It’s not the first time your former colleagues have failed to see they’re wrong.
The day you reclaim your office in the City, Colonel Sheppard stops by and hands you a picture frame. When you turn it over in your hands, it’s empty save for a lone silver coin. The two of you share a grin that would’ve been inconceivable fifteen months ago. He whistles while he hunts for your whisky and you scout for an appropriate place on the wall.
You’ve never been this sane in your life.