Sheppard HC LJ Secret Santa 2011 fic for Titan5

Grumpy John and emo- and medical whump.

Set in the aftermath of 3.7 Common Ground and 3.9 Phantoms. Sometimes it's the small things that blindside you while you're trying to pretend the big bad nasty things never happened. Sheppard learns that no matter what they've witnessed and done to each other, whatever happens they're always a team. Radek's here and Lorne helps out too.

Prompt at the end. I think I managed to get most of what you wanted. Thanks to coolbreeze1 for the hyphen and comma wrangling

Invisible wounds

"I like those cold grey winter days. Days like these let you savour a bad mood"

Bill Watterson [Calvin & Hobbes]

M1B-129

John's a rational level headed kind of guy….most of the time, but the long, in depth and very expensive training the Air Force and SGC provides does not prepare you for any of the weird crappy, sheer what the hell of the Pegasus Galaxy.

It's been stressful recently to say the least. Ronon hallucinating Wraith today is small beer. John had been up close and personal with one and lived to tell the tale. Heck they'd broken out of prison together and ended up as 'brothers'. How messed up is that? Then they'd dealt with Rodney's sister and all the sibling angst that came with it together with an alternate universe version of McKay called Rod. That Rodney had had to deplete their only ZPM, much to Elizabeth's dismay, was the icing on the cake. John almost felt he had the right to feel a little out of sorts, because what if Hive ships appeared, or some rogue faction of the Genii? But at least Rod was returned safely and no-one destroyed a universe.

And today? Well, he doesn't have words for it at present. He can't think about the report and letters he'll have to write later, let alone the debrief. He's too edgy.

There's time on his hands while they wait for the Daedalus to arrive. Ronon's fit enough to keep guard. When he's absolutely sure everyone's really okay and not going crazy and seeing things or dying, John sets off into the forest while it's still light. He doesn't want to leave Carson and the others on their own for too long-just in case and he has to check back in with Weir in half an hour.

Damn the sneaky Wraith and the Genii meddling with things! He's lost six men today. He's buzzing with excess adrenaline and anger and guilt. The crash when it comes will be nasty, but he pushes it away until he's back in Atlantis. Focus. Got things to do.

He finds the place where Major Leonard's remains are, out in the boonies near the bivouac they'd sheltered in. He told Teyla he'd get the dog tags and he keeps his promises. The blast site is not pretty. Insects buzz and there's a nasty smell. Swallowing hard and breathing through his mouth, he switches off his human heart and searches.

He remembers the defiant look on the Major's face as he pulled the pin out of the grenade and held it close. Dammit. In any other situation it would have been heroic. It's not a good way to go. He'll make sure the records explain why they shouldn't be tainted by friendly fire and suicide labels, although technically it's the truth. At the same time, the machine made them do it. It would be difficult for families to understand the nuances. His head reels thinking about it. Ronon and he had almost...as if he didn't already have a black mark on his service jacket.

Stop it.

He'd casevaced wounded in Afghanistan and seen the aftermath of IED's. He's never been there when someone...not that close before, and the last time it had been that marooned Wraith that Lorne blew up with a drone.

Don't over- think what you're looking at. This was different, a fellow officer.

His back aches as he crouches on the ground, a combination of being blasted forwards, dragging Teyla around in his delusion, and running around the forest trying not to get killed.

He's lucky after several minutes of careful searching; he finds the dog tags and puts them in one of his tac vest pockets. He lays a few glow sticks to mark the site for the retrieval team and hopefully put off any scavenging wildlife, and leaves.

He gets back to where his team and Kagan have settled for the night. Just in time for the check in. He winces every time Rodney mutters 'you shot me!" as he talks to Elizabeth. They can manage with their supplies until Colonel Caldwell turns up.

He's fine, really he is, until Teyla tentatively asks him if he got Captain Holland to safety.

"No," he says after a moment and gets up to avoid any more questions. It brings back such a bleak time for him, that he can hardly breathe.

He fetches a blanket for Teyla who looks a little weary; he passes one out to Beckett for Rodney. Rodney won't want to talk to him. How many times does he have to say he's sorry? Ronon just looks at him daring him to say anything. He's wearing a spare Atlantis jacket as the evening draws in and he looks, to John's eyes, odd- out of place. Almost as odd as suddenly wearing desert camos...

Everyone is alive, warm and not crazy or dying and in the silence he lights the camp fire and rummages in a pack for MRE's.

It's a huge sigh of relief when the Daedalus contacts them four long hours later. John liaises with them for the soldier dead retrieval team so he arrives late to sick bay. He expects Dr Biro's PM's on Atlantis to confirm the video and witness evidence on M1B-129. It doesn't make it any easier.

He tries to brush off the Daedalus medic. He's fine really, and the blood's not his- it's Major Leonard's and Teyla's. Unfortunately, there's a flurry when they hear about the blast and he idly mentions the slight ringing in his ears that worried him as they were waiting to be picked up. He relaxes when they confirm that it will probably ease of its own accord but he needs to tell someone if the pain gets worse over the next 24 hours.

Beckett's tied up with his own story and explaining about the injured team members and his own terrifying experience. John stays long enough to know that Rodney, Ronon, Teyla and Kagan are stable until they get back, no complications arising. Then he heads for the bridge to thank Caldwell and report. Caldwell promptly boots him off the bridge, telling him to stand down for the short trip back. The fact that he's still dirt smudged and wearing his unzipped tac vest may have something to do with that.

How can he rest knowing he shot most of his team and relived one of the worst defining moments of his career? He spends the time pacing up and down in his allocated cabin unable to start a report or any letters then walking round the ship. He leaves the others alone, figuring that they all need time and space to process what happened today.

0o0

Atlantis welcomes him like always, a tingling caress over his tired body. He's glad to be back home. He knows Beckett and the injured will prefer Atlantis's infirmary amongst friends, no disrespect intended to the Daedalus. They'll relax and heal quicker. The Daedalus beams them directly to the infirmary, mostly for Kagan and Rodney's injuries.

Kagan, Rodney and Teyla are wheeled away for surgery, and Ronon and John wait. Beckett's also having a post mission check and fussing because for once he's the patient. It doesn't stop him from reading over Ronon and John's charts sent over from the Daedalus.

"What's this about your ears?" Beckett rounds on him, his accent strengthening as his anger increases. "How'm I 'sposed to help you when you dinnae tell me!"

"You were busy. I wasn't dying. Besides it's almost worn off," John tells him as Dr Weir comes in to get the latest reports. He walks over to greet her.

"I'm sorry about Major Leonard's team. I expect there'll be the usual service?" she says, her face sad.

"Um , yes. I'll liaise with Dr Biro, when she's finished and then we can let everyone know when and where- tomorrow maybe. The Daedalus said they'd wait and take them back when we're ready. "

"I'll expect reports when you can. For now clean up and get some rest," she urges and moves on to talk to the medical teams.

0o0

In the days that follow Ronon leaves him be. Rodney's still a little skittish after the whole 'you shot me!' thing and staying in his room resting with several laptops. John did say he was sorry and he means it, but it's all he can offer. Beckett's still upset with himself, too. And over compensating. Keeping people in for longer and double- checking himself. Teyla is moving about well and doing PT. Thank goodness she was able to get him to pull the cable from the core. He's glad he didn't injure her further, dragging her about the forest like that.

And John? He's fine. Absolutely fine. Always is, always will be. No fuss, no attention grabbing. Dad would be proud. But he won't be fine if people - namely Teyla and Dr Beckett - don't stop asking him, because he will have gotten rid of them where nobody can find them.

So maybe he isn't getting a good eight hours of quality sleep at night. Who is? The extra time on the range is time well spent, filling Wraith shaped pieces of paper with big accurate holes. The longer runs with Ronon are good for him, builds up his stamina. If he sleeps at all, it's because he's exhausted his body so he can't re-live the pain of being fed on or seeing Major Leonard pull the pin. And if it's not that, he has lovely nightmares where he did shoot all of his team under the influence of the machine.

John's also called out several times to help Radek since Rodney finds walking about painful and things are still a little awkward between them. Atlantis is suffering another spate of glitches and wobbles. Rodney could probably talk them through some of it and get it done quicker but John doesn't want to bother him. He needs to heal. Besides he likes Radek's quiet muttering in English and Czech and his sly humour, and it gives him something to do at 2am. And at 4am...

0o0

Off world four weeks later.

It's raining hard and bitterly cold and Lorne's voice is tight in his ear. "Wraith!" John runs towards the sound of the stuttered P90 rounds, confident that Ronon and Teyla are with Rodney and the others mopping up.

He arrives in time to see the long white- haired Wraith gripping Lorne's hand with the gun still in it, crushing it. Lorne's yelling and wrestling and trying to stab at its feeding hand with his KaBar knife in the other. The Wraith bashes him hard in the face with his own gun. Stunned, Lorne drops to the muddy ground. The Wraith bends down, feeding hand stretched out.

John literally sees red and fires bullets into it, yelling "No!" as he does so. The Wraith jerks and growls, spinning round to face the new threat. Lorne's still lying sprawled on the ground.

He knows it's fed recently because it's not bloody damn bastard dying… his gun clicks empty and without losing a beat he swipes hard at the Wraith's head with the P90 stock as hard as he can.

"See how you like it, ugly!"

The Wraith stumbles a step or two backwards in surprise. Flicking a glance at Lorne, he sees his eyes blinking. One hand twitches towards the gun in his holster.

The Wraith roars and back hands John away propelling him backwards into a tree. John rallies and launches himself at the Wraith who has turned back to Lorne. He runs at the Wraith gathering his arms about its torso to tackle and get it face down. There's a pleasing crunch and thud to the ground. The Wraith bucks and flings a hand out behind him. John hangs on, grabs and stabs its feeding hand into the wet earth with his knife. There's a gunshot and the Wraith finally goes still. John looks up to see a shaky Lorne holding out his nine mil before slumping back down and groaning.

John pulls the knife out and dispatches the Wraith with a crisp slice to the neck. Just in case. Although he's pretty certain Lorne's head shot did the trick- it makes him feel better. Sweaty, bruised and bloody he's panting for breath still crouched over the body when he hears something.

Rustling, the wet slap of feet slipping, a muffled curse. Bloodied knife ready to throw, all tense and battle drenched he whirls round to confront whatever it is. Rodney white shocked face, mouth open in an O of surprise stares back at him.

"Gimme your spare ammo!" he orders and Rodney clumsily rips open a pocket for the block and throws it at him. John catches it and slaps it into his P90.

"Sheppard?"

John dismisses his query with a frown, sheathes his knife and goes over to check on Lorne. He'll deal with why Rodney's out here on his own later.

"How ya doin,' Major?"

"Headache, fine in a bit." John digs in his vest for gauze to mop up the blood and tilts his head to check his eyes. He sticks a few butterfly strips to hold the cut until they get back. Lorne swallows hard, obviously struggling with nausea, but at least his pupils are evenly dilated. They know Beckett will do a more intensive check back at base. Not a severe concussion but painful and uncomfortable even so.

"Did we get 'em all?" Lorne asks "Because he's busted my right hand, too."

"Yeah, I hope so. Jeez." John stares at Lorne's bruised and swollen digits. Reaching into another pocket, he unfolds a square and ties a sling round Lorne's neck and helps him tuck the damaged hand inside. Lorne fumbles in a pocket for some pain relief tablets takes a gulp of water from the canteen John holds out and recaps.

He clicks his radio " Access to the Gate cleared?"

Teyla and Ronon confirm the rout of the Wraith and clear access.

"Head for the jumper immediately just in case. I've got Lorne and McKay. Be with you in a few minutes." He turns to Rodney.

" Help me with Lorne and let's go!"

"Is he okay? The Wraith didn't...?" Rodney reaches down for an arm as John picks up Lorne's other weapon and knife.

"No. I got there in time."

"Yeah, I saw." grunts Rodney as they lever Lorne upright and stagger off back towards the rest of the team and the jumpers. Rodney doesn't bitch once about hefting Lorne. John tries not to worry too much about a non-verbal McKay.

Lorne insists on flying back with the other two members of his team. Sgt. Harris takes over the flying duties and Lt. Baker is a medic. Lt .Wayne Jennings rests in the black body bag on the bench seat. John understands.

He concentrates on the comforting hum of the jumper around him and the mental routine as he flies his team home and follows Lorne in Jumper 4. No-one says much; they're all just glad to be alive. They're bruised and battered and he's soaked to the skin, muddy, chilled and saddened by another soldier dead. Rodney is quiet,and maybe it was too soon after the thing with Major Leonard's team.

They arrive at the jumper bay and Ronon, Teyla and Rodney file out before him, picking up weaponry and jackets as they go. Lorne's team is on their way to the infirmary, and as he thinks about the questions that Beckett will ask him and he wonders what Rodney saw or thinks he saw in John's face as he almost killed the Wraith with his bare hands.

Suddenly, he can't go there, do that. Not yet. He needs...something. He gets into the transporter with the others, beginning to feel trapped in a small space. He has to get out. His heart speeds up, the smell of the Wraith blood on his hands and clothes...

The doors open and he lets them get out first, turning right to the infirmary. He waits for a second before exiting and goes in the opposite direction.

Ronon turns around "Sheppard?"

"I'll be along in a minute." Ronon looks at him trying to work out what's up but gives him a short nod.

He strides out almost running. He slips into a room and sits in the dark and waits for the shakes to start. He's tired, adrenaline-drained and scared by his visceral reaction to seeing a Wraith again. You're alive, you didn't die. Your team made it back, so did Lorne's .

Except for Lt Jennings, a darker voice in his head whispers.. Fed on by the Wraith He shivers violently and hunches forward, wrapping his arm around himself.

Dammit.

Pull yourself together! He can almost hear his father's sharp voice.

He was over this! That makes him sit up and lean against the back of the comfy chair he's in.

He been trying to stuff the whole being fed by a Wraith and almost dying, into a locked box in his memories, but it keeps popping open, keeping him awake many nights. The pain of it, the hunger in Todd's eyes as he did it, the fact that Weir and his team had to watch it only made him feel- not embarrassed exactly but unwilling voyeurs. He hadn't wanted to scream, to seem weak. He told himself that he had screamed in defiance.

But he'd got over it. Gradually people (mostly Rodney) stopped telling him he looked younger than before, Ronon really helped with the heavy- duty sparring sessions as he worked through his "issues". Teyla for once seemed unsure of this new knowledge of Wraith abilities. Giving so much life force back seemed wrong, unheard of. Almost like a reward, like worshippers. He wasn't that.

He meant what he said about ever seeing that Wraith again. But there was still the devil on this shoulders whispering- you deserve this. You woke them up early in the first place. It's your fault you've lost men, and whole communities and planets have been culled.

Dammit.

Then the whole thing with the leftovers from the Arcturus Project and the exotic particles happened. He'd seen enough TV and read enough to think about the idea of alternate universes, but to interact with Rod was beyond weird. Rodney and his sister, he'd helped to make her see that Rodney did care, that he'd changed, that it wasn't too late. Too bad he couldn't feel the same about his own family.

And it got him thinking too hard again. What if he'd never made it to Atlantis- turned General O'Neill down? What if he'd been discharged from the Air Force and gone surfing instead? What if he'd never joined the USAF and raced cars? Maybe in one universe his mom would still be alive...Holland too...

0o0

There's a noise at the door and it slides open to reveal Dr Heightmeyer standing in the doorway. Her office is mostly shades of dark and shadow, only a thin strip of light spilling in from the corridor before the door shuts. He watches silently as she fumbles for the light panel, and it flares briefly before dimming.

She taps it again, but it barely comes on. She sighs and walks to her desk anyway.

"Atlantis let's me do whatever I want," John says in the dark, making her jump and banging a knee into the corner of a drawer.

.

"W... What?"

"It's more of a how and why actually. Genetics, doctor," he drawls.

"Colonel Sheppard?" she asks

"The one and only."

"Why...?"

"Am I here? Why are you here. Why'd you sign on, doc? Letters from home, someone and someplace to go back to? Family? Respect? Why are any of us here?"

He can see that she's off guard. In the gloom her eyes are slowly adjusting trying to look at him.

He knows the shadows accentuate his dark hair and planes of his face all angular. He knows he's sweaty and dirty and he's still wearing his off- world tac vest and P90. Overlaying the jasmine she uses in the room is a faint tang of sweat and blood, mud and grass. Wraith blood and some of Lorne's.

He can almost see her thinking Why is he here? In the dark. Alone.

She raises her hand up to her earpiece, but she doesn't call anyone and she drops her hand and waits.

"I'm fine. I'm going for my post mission check-up soon enough. Don't bother Carson just yet, please," he asks.

"Alright. All the times you're supposed to see me and make excuses and now you're sitting in the dark half- scaring me? I'm beginning to feel unloved."

" Hey, I just needed a time out for a little bit. Somewhere they won't find me, poke me, nag me, ask questions. Just five minutes peace."

"Tough day, Colonel?"

"Don't crawl inside my head, not yet," he growls. " I need to think... got a letter to write..."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. Those kinds of letters."

"Not the first time you've had to do them, " she acknowledges.

"Doesn't make it any easier," he replies.

"No, of course not."

"Then why say it doctor? Especially when they have to die and it's all... and I don't know if..."

He's upset, angry and slightly unravelled.

"How did they...um.?"

"Wraith," he says bitterly and then shudders.

"Why didn't he listen?" he asks despairingly. There's a slight rustle as he leans forward head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. The anguish in the air is palpable and he wills her to keep silent for once.

He just needs a few...

His radio squawks in his ear.

"Shit." He says angrily and throws it away. Beckett on the warpath. A few more minutes go by and then suddenly taps her radio.

"Colonel? May I? It'll go to city wide if we don't respond. You can rest here, I can put him off if you want."

He sighs deeply. Better go and get it over with. He's mostly gathered himself together.

"Tell him I'll be there in a minute." But he doesn't move as she talks to Beckett.

She walks over and picks up his radio, handing it to him as he finally stands up, and groans slightly with backache and the adrenaline crash.

"Colonel! Your hands are like ice!" he feels her hands on his arm "You're soaking wet!"

"It was raining," he replies as he goes out of the door.

0o0

Two days later

John's confined to his room feeling rotten. It's just a head cold after all, nothing serious. He hates this lethargy, the runny nose and the blocked nose and the sinus headaches. Guess he should have gone straight to the infirmary after rescuing Lorne's team two days ago. Mind you even Rodney hasn't found a cure for the common cold yet. He grins into his pillow as he shifts trying to find a cool patch. At least he's catching up on some much needed sleep.

He groggily comes awake sometime later when someone gently shakes an ankle. He looks up to find his team watching him. Scowling he croaks "Wad id this? A gallery?" He sneezes and Rodney steps back.

"I have brought you a hot drink remedy, " soothes Teyla.

"Oh, 'kay," he replies still befuddled. "You sure you wand to be here? You bight ged id..."

"Would you rather struggle on your own?" Ronon asks knowingly.

His team know him too well. He would but they won't let him. Besides it's only for a day or two. He can give them that.

0o0

At first, he dismisses it as lingering after effects of the head cold he had most of last week and the stress that is part of daily life. He goes to bed late, his head full of to-do lists and unfinished reports. He turns over in bed and frowns when he feels distinctly dizzy, his head whirling. His heart races for a second and there's a hint of nausea. It's unexpected and unsettling. He lies still and tries to relax. He'll be fine in the morning.

It happens again when he sits up to get out of bed for his morning shower. There's also something off with his eyesight. Carefully he makes it through the shower without falling over or throwing up. He begs off his morning run with Ronon, feeling it may be pushing it a bit.

By lunch time, he realises that he feels okay and thinks that maybe that was it. No need to go to Beckett after all.

The day after that everything is fine until late afternoon having taken a jumper out for a check flight round the city and back, he suddenly feels really nauseous as he steps back into the jumper bay. He doesn't know what the hell this is, but he wants it to stop now. He leans against the jumper hull waiting for it to pass.

"Colonel?"

It's Radek with the results of the flight. He breathes slowly and carefully and opens his eyes.

" 'M fine. How'd we do?"

"Jumper is better, but I think you are not. Perhaps we finish this another time."

"That's ...that's a great idea."

Halfway back to his room he realises a) he's trailing a hand along the walls and that doors are opening much quicker for him than usual, and b) he's picked up a shadow that follows him into his room.

"What's up? Want me to get Beckett?" Ronon asks.

"I'm not sure and not yet, I think. Might just be a stomach bug after the cold I had. Gonna lie down now, Chewie. See you later."

The sickness passes and he carries on albeit at a slow pace. Tomorrow he thinks he'll ask Beckett to run a few tests if anything else crops up.

He feels dizzy again in the morning and off- kilter, out of sorts, some ringing in his ears. Nothing specific, so he doesn't go to the infirmary, but his team have noticed and sooner or later they'll drag him off and stick him under the scanner themselves. They haven't been off-world since the scoop -and- run thing with Lorne, when he got his hand messed up and they lost the Lieutenant. He doesn't think there are any other illnesses going round. He only had a cold!

He's in his office running through things with Lorne, who's telling him how much of a pain it is that it's his dominant hand the Wraith squished. But at least their tablets have voice programs on. He says that what he misses most is sketching.

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. Can't go a day two without scribbling. It's what keeps me going through everything."

He sits thinking that Atlantis is like that for him, and flying of any sort. He just itches to fly.

Without warning, his vision tunnels, his heart pounds and he feels lightheaded like he's on the verge of passing out. He vaguely hears Lorne asking what's going on and radioing for help. He leans forward and everything whirls, things look strange, distorted. He hangs on to the edge of the desk afraid to move.

Beckett's here trying to get him to open his eyes and lean back and tell him what's going on. He does his best to stand up and walk, but he's unsure where the ground is and where to put his feet since everything is whirling and bouncing.

Later, he's aware he's in the infirmary and being scanned, Beckett gets him to list all the symptoms he's had since the cold and he goes away looking thoughtful. John's fine as long as he doesn't move.

"Not just tinnitus or vertigo?" Rodney asks sometime later as the team and Dr Weir gather round him.

"No, although they can be symptoms that persist for a while. And I can rule out a stomach virus or return of that cold. But in some way, it is related to the cold he had. If I'm right, the Colonel isn't going to feel better immediately but he will recover as long as we get the right diagnosis and treatment."

"What have I got, Doc?" he asks.

"Labyrinthitis. That's an inner ear infection to you lot."

"An ear infection? But that's what kid's get and swimmers!" Rodney says surprised.

"No, that's a middle ear infection. This is sometimes triggered by a virus such as the Colonel had or various other things. Sometimes a change in pressure. Also stress or a weakened immune system."

"So, what's the treatment? A weeks course of antibiotics?" he asks hopefully, lying perfectly still on the bed. He'd tried to sit up earlier and that had been a big mistake. Everything tilted sideways and he'd almost fallen off.

"No, son. We need to control the vertigo and nausea so you don't feel so bad and take it slowly from there. We'll try Benadryl or Ativan to start, maybe even Diazepam."

"What do you mean take it slowly from there? How long is this going to last?"

"It depends on how you respond to the drugs. But it's going to be weeks at least."

"Weeks!" He couldn't get to grips with the timescale.

"Yes. You'll need some exercises as well. It's all to do with vestibulo- cochlear nerve that connects the inner ear to the brain. I still need to check some things and put in a call to some specialists. If you have some of the drugs for a long time it could inhibit vestibular compensation and your best chance of recovery. I mean it when I tell you to do exactly what I tell you. No sneaking out of your room and wandering around the city."

Silence greets this little bombshell. Just when he thought his life couldn't get any worse...He has a sudden thought and voices it.

"But I can stay here, right? I don't need to go back to Earth?" His team tense round him.

"Aye. You can stay right here, where I can see what you up to. Which won't be very much for a wee while, I'm afraid."

"And when I recover, I'll still be able to fly. I won't be grounded?"

There's a worrying pause before Beckett speaks. "I can't promise for definite right now." Above the protests, he continues "It's very early in my diagnosis and I'm getting the best help I can for you as soon as you let me go."

"Right." Rodney announces, "I'm going to check the database to see if there some medical equipment we could use." He leaves, already radioing Radek for support. John realises it's the only thing he can think of to help as he can't watch movies or play chess to while on his medical leave. Ronon and Teyla stay in shifts to keep him company and distract him a little.

0o0

Several weeks go by. He has good and really bad days, hardly being able to get out of bed at all. The head exercises are supposed to retrain his inner nerves to work properly and send the right signals that control eye movement and awareness in space. The ultimate aim is to eliminate the dizziness. He feels really silly doing them. If it wasn't for Teyla's Job like patience and Ronon's looming support he might have given up. Or maybe that was just the side effect of depression talking...

It's coming up to the month mark, and he feels stuck in limbo. A bit better but not nearly good enough.

He knows now that Teyla spends far too long knitting some long and slightly wobbly looking scarf (but that could just be his vision). He think of her so much as a warrior and diplomat that apart from tea ceremonies and some other food dishes, he can't imagine other domestic pursuits. Obviously knitting isn't one of them. She tells him she prefers meditation.

On impulse, he asks her to help him relax. He'd prefer not to be on drugs for the anxiety that also goes with the depression, the dizziness and the whirling sensations, and the crippling nausea.

When Ronon's around, they talk about the Satedan military and its history and whatever the latest gossip in the mess hall is, and what the best wood for whittling is.

Rodney's miffed that he can't find some Ancient piece of tech to help him. But that's okay. Why should there be one? Although they can't often play real chess or use the laptop since it involves him sitting up and looking down, which are both no nos, they visualise it in their heads. Rodney also like to write maths problems when he isn't fixing the city or saving the universe.

Lorne visits, and on good days he can look at some of his sketches. Lorne's hand is almost back to normal after some initial worry over it. He remembers how tense Lorne was around that time. Forcing it to sketch meant it didn't lose flexibility. John realises that although most of his work is of Atlantis and its inhabitants and remembered places on Earth, there is darker, bleaker stuff in there too.

"I know I draw all the time, but since I've been in the service, mom says it's therapy and it's cheap, portable and she seems to think it works better than any head shrink. It's the only kind of injury that really scares me- apart from being Wraith bait. In fact, I've come across art therapy in Veteran's Hospitals and rehabilitation programs."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah." Lorne suddenly looks embarrassed and clears his throat. "In fact, did I tell you about this Art Museum in Chicago? I've been several times since I've been in the service."

"What's so special about it?" He's curious. Dad had been keen on culture and knowing the right things and liking some art. He'd bounced around a few galleries and museums as a kid and teenager.

"It's the Chicago Veterans Art Museum. You should go when you're better, sometime soon." He makes it sound almost like an order. John shrugs. He's not sure of anything right now and the idea of going back to Earth either through the Gate, which can be disorientating at the best of times, or on the Daedalus seems impossible.

"I'll think about it," he says.

0o0

It's been just over two months now and he's pretty much back to normal. He's been lucky. There was no permanent damage to his vestibular nerves and he's been able to 'compensate' as the specialist calls it. All the same, it's been a long and rocky road and he'd never have got through it without the help of his team-mates and Beckett's medical wizardry. The medical leave has meant that he's actually put some weight back on and gets at least six hours sleep most of the time. Beckett's pleased. He has to admit, despite everything, he does feel better himself.

He hadn't realised how tied in knots he was getting over botched missions and close calls with the Wraith and the loss of personnel.

He gets sent back to Earth for a final medical check- up and flying ability status check. Beckett assures him that he'll be reinstated. He goes alone and spends three days being put through a battery of tests manual, physical and medical. He passes on everything they throw at him. He's still not sure if some of the higher- up Generals want him to pass or not.

Before he returns to Atlantis, he keeps his promise to Lorne and goes to the museum, not sure what to expect. Sure, there's dark and horrible pictures of the reality of war. He's seen it often enough. He's not sure if that's the point. Slowly, he realises that it's not just him, who's seen these terrible things, and that making them real rather than not talking about it has released the demons for these artists. He's not so good at talking and he can't draw either. Maybe that's why it all got a bit much recently. A powder keg ready to blow.

The thing that really blows his mind though- and he knows now that this is what Lorne wanted him to see and experience- is the exhibit entitled Above and Beyond. He stands stock still, heart pounding, flashes of faces and the sound of half- remembered voices tumbling through his mind. Above him, dangling in the air are over 58,000 dog tags representing each of the men and women who died in the Vietnam War.

Above and beyond the call of duty. He bows his head. It's still going on. And so is he.

The end.

Prompt - John's connection to Atlantis or ancient technology/exhausted John/ soldier John protecting his team or Atlantis

A/N 2 sources :

www dot labyrinthitis dot co dot uk

www dot nvvam dot org

'Soldier Dead' by Michael Sledge, 2005.