Thanks for reading! So we're in the next week. Of course this is waaay AU, but I think they would've kept Sheppard for more than just being on another SG team. And I think he would've had a bit of a time adjusting, though, of course, he'd never show it. Spiel done. Read on!

I don't own the characters. Someone way cooler and smarter than me thought of them.

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Five Weeks Ago

After returning from another doomed team-building exercise and a longer-than-necessary briefing, Sheppard walked slowly to the infirmary for yet another post-mission check. Bone-tired and just plain fed up, his mind wandered back to Atlantis. He never realized that he would ever miss McKay, and he would never say that out loud. Trying not to appear as exhausted as he was, Sheppard picked up his head and his pace. The lines on the floor were mesmerizing.

Ahead, he saw Daniel Jackson speaking animatedly with another scientist. In his hands was a small orb-like object. Sheppard watched as they came closer, feeling a familiar hum. His step faltered as he passed them with a smile.

At once, they stopped talking. "This can't be Ancient... Colonel Sheppard!"

The colonel reluctantly stopped, pasting a patient smile on his face. "Doctor Jackson. What can I do for you?" The vibration intensified nearly driving him to his knees. Dots danced behind his eyes. Had he closed them?

Once the linguist stood in front of Sheppard, the orb lit up and sparkled in his hands. "What's wrong?" Daniel placed his hand on the colonel's arm as the man swayed. "Is it this?"

"I think so," Sheppard said quietly, rubbing his temple. "It's broken."

"How–? Oh! Carl, take this to my lab." Daniel handed it off to his companion. "Sorry. Sorry. It's been a while since I've had an artifact around someone who had the gene as strong as yours. Well, besides the chair. I mean, General O'Neill's gene can't do what yours can... It's almost like each person is designated to operate certain things well. Hmm..."

Sheppard could tell where this was going, so he decided on a preemptive strike. "I was just on my way to the infirmary. Maybe I could stop by your lab later?" After some very strong ibuprofen, and maybe a long nap. Definitely lots of water; it's so dry here... Wait. Pay attention.

"...found a few things, but we're not sure from where. So is fifteen hundred hours okay?" Daniel was walking away, backwards.

"I'll see you then," the colonel said, waving instead of nodding. He entered the infirmary with squinted eyes, rubbing his temple.

"Another headache, Colonel?" Doctor Carolyn Lam slipped her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. Admittedly, she was puzzled by Sheppard's frequent visits. Always the same symptoms, but never the same catalyst. Sometimes after a mission, sometimes it was in the middle of the night. She had ordered he stay once, and ran all the tests she could think of, from MRIs to blood scans. Still nothing.

"Yeah," he said breathlessly. His sensitivity to light had increased, and his pale face showed dark smudges under his eyes. "Need a post-mission, and maybe get something stronger?" It was wishful thinking, but he had to try. The silence was killing him, and now there was a broken gadget crying out to be fixed.

"Anything stronger, and I may have to hospitalize you." She took two steps closer to him, trying to see into his eyes. It seemed to be the only indicator of what may be going on with him. However, all she found was sadness and worry. In an instant, even that was gone; the impassive mask was up again. Sighing deeply, she moved away from his comfort zone and wandered into the main exam room. "Sit down, John," Doctor Lam said, a little more sharply than she intended.

He just needed to sleep. Alone, unwatched. "I, um, really can't–"

Carolyn narrowed her eyes at him, then softened. "Look, I'm sure you don't want to be here longer than you have to. These headaches may cause trouble on a mission, and I really want to get to the bottom of it. I can help, but you need to be honest." She reached out, laying a hand on his arm, remembering her bedside manner.

The colonel flinched involuntarily at her touch, and reluctantly sat on an exam bed. He closed his eyes, resigned, trying to imagine the walls of the infirmary on Atlantis. Definitely prettier than Carson, he thought, and smiled just a little. Then he felt the thermometer in his ear, and heard its plaintive beep.

"You've got a low grade fever, Colonel Sheppard. After I run a few tests, I'd really like you to stay for a few hours." She immediately put up a hand to stall his protests. "What did you think I would say, Colonel? I suspect you already knew you had a fever, and no amount of Tylenol has kept it at bay. Am I right? So be still."

Sheppard opened and closed his mouth. "Fine," he said so quietly he barely heard himself. "Everyone else check out okay?"

"They're all the picture of health. A little worried about you though, Colonel," the doctor smiled warmly. "I know I'm not Carson Beckett, but I'm really looking out for you. Honest." Magically, she produced a set of scrubs, and held them out to him. "Get out of those damp clothes, and we'll get started, okay?" She pulled the curtain closed with a snap.

Sheppard wanted to be angry, but the farther he was from that device, the better. Had being away from The City left him more sensitive to Ancient objects? With his luck, maybe. Behind the curtain, he peeled off his BDUs not realizing they were wet. Had it rained? Like I would notice.

Snap out of it, civilian! The Colonel was stirring again. Weakness of any kind was unacceptable. A reassignment got you all bent outta shape, soldier? The Colonel refused to back off, even with the threat of dizziness. Some little machine is not going to bring you down, is it? The confrontation between John Sheppard and Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard in his head only made it hurt worse. He needed a referee.

Closing his eyes against the light, Sheppard settled against the pillows. In a manner of moments, he was drifting, the battle of personalities carried away in the fog. Again, he felt a touch on his arm. And again, he flinched. He wasn't ready to go into the whys and wherefores of his problems with contact. He opened his leaden eyelids.

"Just checking your vitals, John." The doctor looked down curiously at his wrist. "Colonel? When was the last time you've eaten?"

Sheppard furrowed his brow in thought. To be honest, he couldn't remember. But now was not the time to be that honest. "I dunno, breakfast I guess."

"Can you believe they actually tried to make waffles this morning?" The doctor's eyes were wide and mischievous. "We almost ran out of syrup."

Is this a trap? "Guess I missed it. Just grabbed a pastry and coffee, then went back to my quarters." That should work. The very thought of syrup and butter made his stomach churn.

Carolyn smiled curtly. "Fact is, Colonel, no one's seen you sit and eat a meal for the last three days. Except for coffee, of course."

The colonel's brow bounced up in surprise. Dammit! What is it with doctors and their spies? "Okay. You got me. I do, however, have a secret stash of power bars." And he was not going to squirm under her glare, no matter how uncomfortable he felt. I have stared down Wraith queens. You've got nothing on them. "Just haven't settled in yet. I'm fine."

Doctor Lam crossed her arms giving him one final look. "I'm giving you an IV, and you'll stay until it's gone." She finished inserting the port, then paused to look at him. "I don't want you to think you're being monitored. But in a way, you are. You just came back from a mysterious galaxy, and everyone is looking for a change. Most of them know you have a strange mutated gene that makes rooms light up of their own accord, and have a knack for flying anything. They all have questions, but are a little concerned about the answers."

"Are you saying I freak people out?"

"No, not at all. I'm just saying – hoping, really – that you'll get to know us better, and not shut yourself away. No matter how temporary that may be."

Sheppard leaned back with a sigh, closing his eyes. "Okay. No alienation of the troops. And I will try not to perpetuate said alienation by walking into doors."

She wanted to be concerned, but Carolyn could only laugh. "What is it like?" she asked, surprising herself. "I heard the reports, read Carson's medical files – which, by the way, are extensive for you. But what does it feel like?"

The colonel shrugged. "Have you ever put your tongue on a 9-volt battery?"

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Somewhere in the three hours he spent in the infirmary, Sheppard fell into a restless slumber. He dreamed of long, polished corridors and balconies gleaming in the sun. He floated aimlessly above The City, circling it in a puddle jumper. A lone figure stood on one of the balconies. Aiming his jumper towards the figure, the pilot flew closer. The figure took shape, and his heart stopped.

Oberon.

Sheppard woke with a start, yanking out the IV port. Breathing heavily, he tried to untangle the blanket that had been wrapped around his over-warm body. It was just a dream, John. But he could not shake the feeling he was needed. The hollow silence greeted him, unnerving him further.

"Good nap?"

The voice nearly made him jump out of his skin, sending his heart into a flurry of beats. "I guess," he said trying to calm his shaking hands. "Sorry 'bout the IV."

"That's okay," the nameless nurse said as she picked up the dripping port. "I think it's just about done now."

Sheppard finally freed his feet and swung them over the side. "If you don't mind I'm gonna go to my quarters and clean up."

"Hang on one second, Colonel." Doctor Lam strolled back into the area, warming the stethoscope in her hands. "Are you all right? Your heart rate is –"

"Bad dream," the colonel said quickly.

"Must've been one hell of a dream." She handed over a soft cloth. "Still have a temperature, but I will let you leave on the condition that –"

"I eat something, get some sleep, and call if there's any problems. Know the drill, Doc."

The doctor stepped back to observe him for a moment. "Well, if you know it so well, please heed the instructions." Carolyn turned to a nurse. "Lucy, can you collect the colonel's jacket and boots?"

Sheppard visibly relaxed with the news. "Thanks, Doctor Lam." He actually felt better, even if the quiet was unbearable. Checking his watch, he absently grabbed his jacket from the waiting nurse. Two hours before he had to meet with Daniel Jackson. Stamping into his boots, he waved good bye.

When he arrived at the locker room, Sheppard nearly thought twice about the shower he was dying to take. Too many damned people. A place off-base was sounding better and better. Finally, he allowed the hot water to roll down his back, loosening the knots that had accumulated between his shoulder blades. This time he knew all the worry and sleepless nights would not wash away. He had to know if everything – everyone – was okay.

It's only been a week, Sheppard! he scolded himself. Stop it! If The Colonel comes back, he mused, I'll never get any sleep! Oh my God! I'm schizophrenic! He opened eyes he scarcely knew he had closed, and slammed off the shower. No more internal dialogue. Seriously.

Sheppard left the locker room quickly, slightly wet skin dampening the back of a fresh black tee shirt.

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At 14:55, Colonel Sheppard strolled into Daniel Jackson's lab. A short nap and a Tylenol had done wonders for his attitude. "Hey, Doc. What can I–" Immediately, three objects sprung to life on various shelves. "Well," he said breathlessly. These objects were related and emitted a sensory overloading hum. The colonel nearly backed right back out of the lab.

Daniel barely registered the colonel's distress. "That's amazing. I thought we got all the Ancient items to Area 51 or Antartica. This means– Colonel? Are you all right?"

Sheppard took a deep breath, pushing away the intense vibration. "I'm fine. Just surprised." He moved slowly to the object he had seen earlier. "I think I can fix this one, but the others... If I were on Atlantis, The City would tell me how to fix them."

"Really? I suppose it would. Like going on the internet to find out how to fix something, I guess. To be honest, I'm more than a little jealous. To be able to feel what's right and wrong with your surroundings. Open and close doors with a thought. Have you been able to translate any of the language?" Light danced in the crystal blue eyes, making them sparkle with curiosity.

"Not really. I mean, I understand what's happening, but as far as reading it, no." The taller man placed thin, gentle fingers around the object. "Although a few times, I've spoken it, not knowing what I was saying. Barely remember it; just what I've been told. Ah!" He felt something shift into place, like a piece of a puzzle.

The object skewed and formed a new shape in the palm of his hand. A holographic image appeared, shimmering into a moving picture. It was a 'jumper view of Atlantis. Suddenly, his earlier nightmare came flooding back in his mind. The image flickered to show exactly what he had dreamed about. Sheppard immediately quelled the horrific thoughts and willed the object off.

"Isn't that Atlantis? What happened? " Daniel was standing very close, closer than he was before, peering over the colonel's shoulder. When did he get there?

Sheppard tried to cover his start by shifting away. "Nothing. I just turned it off." I do not want to see that thing ever again! Avoiding the linguist's eyes, the colonel moved to the shelves behind them. Cautiously, he reached for another object. "Well," he drawled. "What do we have here?" He had seen one in Rodney's lab once. Apparently, it was a portable X-ray device. Pulling it off the shelf, he asked it what was wrong. The static-like hum clarified, then overwhelmed his senses.

"Colonel? Maybe you should sit down," Daniel's distant voice said.

"Wha..? No, I'm... Whoa." The colonel flopped down harshly on a nearby couch, and he attempted to turn on the object after it was fixed. "I just saw through that wall." Blinking quickly, he looked at Daniel with a boyish grin. "Cool."

The archeologist smiled amiably. "Yes. That is cool." Daniel sobered a bit. "Having such a strong connection must be a blessing and a curse, right?"

John Sheppard glanced away. "You don't know the half of it."

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I haven't written Daniel in so long, I don't think I have his voice any more. Sorry 'bout that. I'm beginning to think I shoulda written this in the first person... And this may be a wee bit OOC for Sheppard, but come on. This guy has got to have some serious inner dialogue. This story started off so short! Now it's a monster.

Rawr.