Some of you wanted a little bit of a sequel, so here it is. An infirmary, post whump scene.

Sheppard groaned and rolled over onto his side. Sucked in a deep breath and rolled over onto his other side. Again, the knot in his stomach twisted and he tried to straighten out to lie on his back. Pain. Lots of it. Every movement jarred his bruised insides and every breath coursed new life to fuel his aches.

He let his eyes creep open and the instant he did he felt his stomach lurch and he sat up stiffly, one hand over his mouth, the other gripping the railing beside the bed. His knuckles were turning white as he waited for the nausea to dissipate, but his stomach continued to roll and found himself letting out an audible moan.

"You're awake," he heard the small voice from the other side of the room say.

Sheppard turned his head slowly, fixed his eyes on Beckett, and then swallowed against the bile in his throat.

"Do you want some water?" asked Beckett. He got up from the chair he had been snoozing in and walked over to Sheppard.

Sheppard shook his head, afraid speaking would evoke his stomach to think the way was clear for expulsion. Instead he lay back and closed his eyes.

Beckett was standing beside him, checking his vitals, with a tension that Sheppard had never felt before.

"You did good?" he muttered and was surprised at how raw his throat felt and how tired he was.

Beckett was wringing his hands together and staring off at another point in the room, "I messed up," he said quietly and picked up Sheppard's chart.

Sheppard knitted his brows together in an expression of confusion and pushed himself up onto his elbow. The nausea returned with a vengeance and he was about to answer when Beckett thrust a bowl under his chin, obviously seeing John turn green, and waited as he dry heaved into the bowl. Sheppard found himself swearing and he clamped his hands around the railings in frustration.

"Why do I feel so crappy?" asked Sheppard hugging the bowl to his chest and waiting whilst Beckett raised the bed to a more comfortable angle.

"You have a low grade fever, previously high grade, and an infection," said Beckett, his eyes drawn to the chart.

"I don't understand?" said Sheppard closing his eyes against the swimming sensation in his head.

Beckett looked up, licked his lips, and this time stared Sheppard straight in the eyes. There was no mistaking the feelings which were storming underneath when he said, "By operating on you out there, you caught an infection," he paused briefly, hands shaking, "I should have waited and as a result……"

"Beckett?" Sheppard asked. He was becoming aware of a dull throbbing sensation on his chest, almost like an acute burning. He reached down and only then realised his ribs hurt too. One definitely felt broken.

"We nearly lost you, I had to bring you back with the paddles." Blurted out Beckett, "I broke a rib, I'm sorry," he said and his face conveyed a thousand sorry's.

Sheppard felt numb. He couldn't respond to this new information and he simply said, "I'm okay."

"But we nearly lost you. Because of my negligence," stated Beckett and Sheppard could sense he was having real doubts about the effectiveness of his doctoring skills.

"You got me back," said Sheppard. He had almost died and yet it wasn't quite sinking in. After all the last thing he remembered was the Doc thrusting his appendix in his face and them laughing at how ugly it was. He had no idea that minutes after he had slipped unconscious and nearly died.

Beckett looked distraught, "I should have waited to get you into surgery, I raised your risk of infection," he said now pacing back and forth. He bought his hand up to his face and gave it a weary rub.

Sheppard leaned forward to catch his elbow and to stop his pacing. One because he hated to see a friend like this, and two it was only fuelling the nausea he felt. "Beckett, you said yourself, if you had left it I could have died anyway. You had to make a choice. You made the right one."

Beckett stopped dead and turned to face him, "We're all making choices here," he said with a solemn smile, "All the time. Its hard to know when you make a right one." He looked utterly defeated and tired.

Sheppard nodded and realised that their choices were often not so far apart. They all seems to involve life or death these days.

"It was a stupid decision," said Beckett walking over to the opposite bed and leaning on it.

"Saving my life?" questioned Sheppard. He leant back heavily and closed his eyes.

"I had the wrong equipment, no analgesic, you'll have a scar-"

"Women like scars," muttered Sheppard slowly retrieving the bowl and hugging it against his chest again.

Beckett sighed, "You could feel every cut, I didn't even screen off the area to give you some privacy."

Sheppard tried to get a hold of himself. He could feel himself slipping away to sleep but he wasn't going to not having finished this conversation with Beckett, "It needed to come out," he said simply, "In the field, I've seen worse," he said and opened one eye to look at Beckett. He was looking at him expectantly and waiting for an explanation.

Sheppard groaned and opened both eyes, "You have saved my life on more than one occasion Doc. You saved my life. If I had got an infection from my appendix bursting…surely that would have been worse right?"

Beckett nodded but didn't raise his eyes.

Sheppard could feel his face flushing and Beckett walked over to him and put a hand up to his head, "You're hot again." He pulled out a thermometer and stuck in Sheppard's ear, "100," he paused, "I shouldn't have kept you up talking, you should be resting."

Sheppard nodded and sank back in the bed feeling more tired than he had ever felt, "You needed to talk," he said adjusting his position and wincing at every movement, "You needed to see I was alive."

Beckett grabbed Sheppard's wrist and gave it a squeeze. They stood still for a moment, until both men felt slightly uncomfortable with the close contact. Beckett turned away and rolled his shoulders and Sheppard cleared his throat.

"Get some rest," said Beckett and Sheppard closed his eyes.

"Beckett my ankle hurts again," he heard the voice and kept his eyes firmly shut.

He could hear Beckett sigh but then something strange happened, "Get on the bed Rodney and I'll have a look. I'm sorry I didn't believe you when you said it was hurt before but I'll make sure I go over it thoroughly."

There was movement and Rodney was obviously sitting up on one of the beds, "Is it broken? Shouldn't you x ray it?"

"Aye, I will x ray it. You sit back and make yourself comfortable."

Sheppard smiled and let himself fall into a peaceful slumber, knowing he would be safe.

"Whys Sheppard smiling like that?" he heard Rodney say, just before he floated away.

The end