A/N: I watched 'Conversion' today, finally! And was so inspired, I had to write my own fic based on it. Despite the plethora of fic already dealing with this episode…so spoilers ahead, though I'm sure most of you are well and truly familiar with it already.

Post- Conversion: Animus et factum

John Sheppard rotated the sticks he was training to fight with, attempting to pull off one of the impressive moves he had mastered a few weeks earlier. Instead, he ended up cursing as he lost his grip and one flew a few metres to hit the wall with a mocking thud. "I guess it's not so easy when your DNA is completely human," he said out loud, exhaling regretfully. Wait, what was the alternative? Oh, right, life as a mindless bug. I think I'll stick with learning the hard way.

He carefully put away the equipment. The purpose in coming down here had not been to lose himself in a training exercise, in fact, Carson would probably incarcerate him if he learnt that Sheppard was exerting himself in such a way. If there was one thing all personnel respected about the good doctor, it was that he was capable of being utterly ruthless when he felt the safety and wellbeing of a patient was being jeopardized. Even when said patient wished to revoke his status as an invalid and decline the continuation of Carson's kind medical services. Carson was the kind of person that wanted to save people from themselves, and his intentions were so transparently good that it made one feel guilty to thwart them. And so he made an excellent doctor, trading off the ambivalence that provoked in reluctant patients.

Sheppard contemplated what to do next. He had achieved the purpose behind this visit, even if the object behind it had since departed. Sheppard was grateful that Teyla was capable of being so…normal around him. There had been an instant rapport between them the first time they met, which had developed into a solid bond that he treasured, and the thought that being infected with some retrovirus had threatened their friendship was abhorrent. But there was real warmth in her tone when she advised him not to think about the incident between them, and she had alleviated any tension by continuing to call him 'John'. If anything, they had grown closer in overcoming the ramifications of what he had done. Steady there, boy, he smirked at himself. She still ditched you, look at the empty room, she sure didn't stick around long. Well, it would have been a bit much to expect things to instantly snap back to normal. He was just glad that she had absorbed his unspoken but sincerely intended apology without any of the awkwardness of having to say it out loud. Teyla, I'm sorry for molesting you. Sheppard winced. There went that damnable brain of his, delving into areas he really wanted to leave alone. Like Atlantis, there were sections that were better isolated and untouched. He would have been much happier to have not retained any memory of what he'd done while under the influence of an alien mutation. The phrasing of that thought made him snicker. Their reports would never put anyone to sleep out of boredom, oh no, something always happened to them. Alien influences had rapidly become second nature to anyone affiliated with the Stargate Program. And when the members of the Atlantis expedition had stepped into the unknown, one and all- whether veteran or new recruit, soldier or scientist, they were made a part of that inexorable tradition. The memory of Laura Cadman in McKay's body still elicited snickers around the city.

But reminiscing on the good old times, while good for a temporary distraction, could never keep his thoughts from the recent troubling events. He had made steps towards mending whatever fences had been broken by his actions, however unintended they were from his current healthy viewpoint, yet it still gnawed at him. Sheppard yearned to return to active duty, but knew that no amount of nagging would convinced Elizabeth to budge on that issue til she and Carson were convinced he was completely recovered. He scowled at the small scaly patch on his arm. Every time he protested he was fine, their eyes moved to that tiny visual evidence of what he had been through. Even through a jacket, he could feel eyes burning a hole at that point, and felt like throwing up his hands in exasperation whenever it occurred. Except he was still a little wary of where he put his hands, ever since he punched through Elizabeth's window. Here's a thought, dumb-ass, he told himself sternly. When trying to make good impression, refrain from physical violence. It's a very simple equation. Sheppard rolled his eyes. Since when had his internal voice sounded uncomfortably like Rodney?

What about it? You going to focus on insignificant little details like that and ignore the bigger picture? Wow, that voice was really getting on his nerves. He almost thought that the scientist had found some way of projecting irritating thoughts into his head to drive him insane. Sheppard certainly wouldn't put it past him. But annoying as Rodney was, he usually had some idea what he was talking about. He just thought it might be a little more bearable if his conscience sounded a little more soothing, rather than grating, more diplomatic than insulting, more Elizabeth than Rodney. Except she was precisely who he was trying to avoid thinking about. In fact, out of those cordoned-off areas in his mind, she was red-flagged as the most unsettling, even thinking her name raised the loudest alarm. Now why do you think that would be? The internal voice asked snidely.

He had hinted at an apology to the guards that had been knocked unconscious. Oh, he liked that turn of phrase. Passive, rather than active. They suffered concussion, as a way of sidestepping the issue that he had hurt them in the first place. He had suggested his regret to Teyla for the kiss he had forced on her. Sheppard didn't like to think that there could be a female capable of withstanding his stunning good looks and compelling charm, but to be fair to his ego, he hadn't been himself at the time. What would a primitive bug mentality know about kissing women anyway? Sheppard froze as a discomfiting thought struck him. With a heartfelt exhale, he decided to count himself lucky he hadn't kissed one of the men in the city. Like McKay while under the influence of a non-alien personality. Now there was a twist in the tired old cliché.

But with Teyla and the guys, they were able to hint around the incident, cloak it in bland terms and innocuous references. Elizabeth was different…obviously. With his men, they were willing to die in an attempt to find a cure for him. A blow to the head wasn't asking too much, he noted facetiously. He'd put more on the line to save their butts if necessary, and had done so in the past. Teyla was a leader and a fighter; when dealing with her people, she balanced diplomacy with the capacity to use force to back up her agenda, if challenged. Her proficiency in this stick combat thing was ample evidence of that.

Elizabeth Weir was a diplomat above all, she found violence distasteful and unnecessary. The woman raised a fuss at the thought of carrying a gun when they were in constant danger here in this Wraith-infested excuse for a galaxy. Feisty as she could be, if up against a single one of those creatures, Sheppard could only picture a rumpled kitten shaking its claws at a…a…she was so outmatched, he found it hard to pick something for this analogy. A king cobra, perhaps? Wait, a car. Being driven by a drunk teenager, intent on causing some roadkill on his way to more booze. A tragedy waiting to happen. Frustrated at the thought, he felt like shaking her.

Which triggered the memory of grabbing a woman by the throat, propelling her backwards into the wall. Cracking her head against the hard surface, watching her eyes widen in shock and pain. Squeezing harder when she didn't say what he wanted to hear. You'll be fine, John, it'll be okay, John. She had promised, and now she was going back on it. Well, she'd have the first hand experience of seeing exactly how 'fine' he was. She wanted to know how he was feeling? He'd show her, if he had to break every bone in her body to make her understand. The man that had been Sheppard was reaching a turning point from which there was no hope of redemption, and she would be the perfect start to mark the beginning of that metamorphosis. Then there would be no chance to turn back. If he was going to be royally screwed over this way, he may as well embrace the change.

But then he had lost lucidity. Suddenly the effort of holding the woman by a chokehold made no sense. He should escape, find somewhere dark, isolated. Obeying his biological imperative, Sheppard let go, registering the thud as her body hit the ground, didn't care. The guards outside his quarters did not hinder him for more than a few seconds. The thought that he had requested their presence to protect people from him did not occur. He was incapable of that thought process now-

THEN, Sheppard thought heatedly. Then. It's over.

He remembered waking up, finding Elizabeth at his bedside in the infirmary.

"Did I hurt anyone?"

"No, not seriously."

She had locked eyes with him so calmly, utterly serene. No trace of fear or even discomfort. Her main objective had been to reassure him, and he detected nothing out of the ordinary, no more than her usual concern for him. If his memories hadn't returned, she would never have brought it up, it would never have affected the dynamics of their relationship. He had assaulted her, and she would just go on like nothing had ever happened. Yet it had. He just wished he had kissed her instead.

Sheppard's brows rose as he censored that thought. It just- he, well…The guys were under his command, they understood the risks that entailed, and he was in charge. End of story. It was terrible that he had jumped them, but he could put it out of his head. The incident with Teyla, while more troubling, had merely involved a kiss, when all was said and done. Not a friendly peck between friends, more passionate and forceful than that, but nothing more. But she could handle aggression from him, after all, they sparred often and furiously; she was used to attacking and defending against him.

Elizabeth, on the other hand…he was supposed to back her up with military strategies, not against a wall with his hand at her throat. She wasn't used to the darker side of him. The one other time she had an inkling about the murky depths to his personality was when he had shot Kolya while the man had been holding her as his hostage, trying to use her as a personal shield. Sheppard had felt such fury at what Kolya was doing to her that the only way he could focus on securing her safety and freedom was to retreat into the cold, detached mindset of a soldier, reject what personal feelings he had and concentrate on eliminating the threat and acquiring the asset. Afterwards, she had been dazed and shaken, but he could spare no words of comfort for her, no time to console her. The trained professional aspect of his character wouldn't allow it, not after he had nearly failed when his heart had stuttered at the sight of Elizabeth with a gun to her head, when he had frozen for a moment in mindless terror. She had been so helpless.

And that brought him to the other insidious thought that kept creeping into his head. She was untrained. The others would have stood a fighting chance against him. He had the greatest respect for Teyla's ability, after all the hard knocks, humiliating thumps and painful bruises she had generously provided for him in their training sessions. What could Elizabeth have done against him? Nothing. She had trusted him, but it was clearly misplaced. And while he hadn't done the unthinkable and finished her off, it hadn't been from some strength of character or inner well of determination he had drawn from in order to protect her from himself. It was a fluke he hadn't killed anyone. Just that, pure chance. He hadn't been the hero, and that bothered him. Sheppard wanted to be the person that she had faith in, but he had failed miserably. And that was why he couldn't offer her an apology, why he couldn't even allude to his regret for what he had done, however unintentionally. He had never seriously doubted Elizabeth's compassion or her ability to forgive him for attacking her.

The problem was trying to forgive himself. And that was something he wasn't sure he could ever achieve.