MAJOR JOHN SHEPPARD squirmed in the hospital bed. He still didn't feel "well," but his energy level had returned to high enough levels that lying in bed was about as preferable as a boil on his privates. Lizzie—Doctor Weir, he corrected himself—had left a few hours ago, and he was bored.

The last time he'd buzzed for someone, Dr. Beckett himself had showed up. And threatened to sedate him. Somehow, John was half convinced he'd meant it.

"You always were a fidgety one," an impossibly familiar voice whispered at him from next to his ear. Or was it across the room? John shivered, and looked around.

It couldn't be. He was dead. Then again, John reflected, so was he, a short time ago.

"You're right, though. You did kind of grow on me, towards the end, there. Thanks…thanks for shooting me. It was...even more painful than it looked."

"Colonel?" John croaked, disbelieving.

"In the…well, yeah. It's me, anyway," came the dry voice of his former commander. Looking around, John saw no one. His heart raced as he tried to figure it all out.

"You're not gonna find me tucked into a corner, flyboy," said Sumner, scornfully. "Look, I'm willing to cut you some slack, here, but you really need to get with the program."

"And what program would that be?" he queried.

"Always gotta be the smartass, don't you," Sumner scolded. "I don't know why I'm here, now, but maybe it's to kick your butt back into shape. Do you know you backed into that bug?"

John hung his head in shame. He hadn't told anyone how much of an idiot he'd felt for not checking his six. And he could almost feel Sumner agreeing with him.

"That would be because I do," Sumner explained in that too-calm voice people used when they were either extremely annoyed or over-explaining. To an idiot. "Which you are," agreed Sumner, brightly.

"How are you here, again?" John asked. Two could play this game.

"Yeah, but I'd win," Sumner whispered. "Re: the former, I'm not sure." For the moment he was silent, John could feel Sumner's bewilderment. "Last thing I remember is drawing the short straw to come and greet you; you know, the 'loved ones at the end of the light' crap." He paused, and John winced with what he felt was coming. "You know, you are really pathetic that way, Major. Not even your grandparents felt a closer tie than me. And I only felt the kind of responsibility a C.O. feels for one of his men."

John knew a little of what that felt like, now. It was as though he died a little with every team he sent into danger.

"Yeah. Well, I'm dead, I should be beyond that sort of stuff now. I'd get back to what I was doing—if I could figure out how."

"You mean you ended up hitching a ride when they brought me back, and now you can't find the way back."

"Didn't I just say that?" Sumner sounded truly annoyed now. And a bit louder.

"Maybe talking to me isn't a good way to get back to what you were doing," John said.

"Probably not, Major, but you're all I've got. Don't think it's a picnic for me, either."

John was silent as an idea hit him. "No, Major, that's a bad idea," Sumner said as he thumbed the 'call' button. "You'll be sorry," he added.

John just smiled insolently as he waited for Dr. Beckett. Anything was better than being on the receiving end of his dead C.O.'s scorn.

"Oh, thanks. Love & kisses to you, too," Sumner said, as Beckett trudged in.

"What is it now, Major?" Dr. Beckett sighed.

John stared at him, fear creeping in. "Didn't you hear him just now?"

"Idiot," Sumner muttered.

"Hear who?" Beckett asked, puzzled.

"Colonel Sumner," John said. "He's been babbling to me for the past fifteen minutes."

"Braindead idiot." Sumner's disgust colored his voice.

Beckett had a pen light out and was shining it painfully into John's eyes. "Easy, Doc!" he exclaimed. "The eyes were the first thing that bug affected. They still hurt."

"Well, if it tells me why you're hearing the voice of a dead man, I think it's worth a moment of pain," Beckett mother-henned. "Now, where do you see the Colonel?"

"Ah...I don't. See him. I just hear him. But not at the moment," John said, and cringed.

Beckett, prodding and probing at his skull, paused at this. "Any ideas of why, Major?"

"This I'd like to hear," Sumner said.

"Ah...he said that of the people you see at the end of the bright light, he felt the closest tie to me," he admitted, and paused. "I think...he hitched a ride when you brought me back."

Beckett sat and regarded him for a long moment. John shifted, uncomfortable. He glanced around the room, anywhere but at the doctor. And was startled to see a slight shimmer in one corner. Did that look like the vaguest outline of a person? He started to focus a little harder, but then Beckett spoke.

"You hit your head when the Jumper got stuck," he said.

John nodded. Sumner spoke. "Oh, this won't be good."

At the same time, Beckett half asked. "And lost consciousness...?"

"Doc, that was three days ago."

"Which should rule out concussion, but it still might play a part in this." John sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I'm going to give you that sedative I mentioned, Major," he continued. "We'll see if a good night's rest can help to set you right as rain."

John grimaced as the needle pierced his skin, administered with as much skill as any he'd received. But, dammit, it was still a piece of steel sticking into his body.

"Should've listened to me," Sumner remonstrated.

"Shut up, you bastard," John said, feeling the effects of the shot already. "It's your fault I'm in this mess."

He drifted off as Sumner chuckled, and did not see Beckett's worried face.