Rodney woke to quiet voices and the mumble of a television. Opening his eyes, he discovered the TV was on in their room and the voices were from somewhere outside. Rolling over, he saw John deeply asleep, head half under the blankets. Tentatively, Rodney felt John's forehead. He knew it was futile; the sleeping man was wrapped warmly in blankets. There seemed to be no change; he decided to check officially later. Now, Rodney definitely knew John was sleeping – there was no flinch, not even a sharp intake of breath.

Turning his attention to the TV, Rodney wondered when it had come on. He had hoped John would wake him if he couldn't sleep, but the television seemed to work just as well. Rodney tried to determine the time by the program, but was at a loss. Checking his watch gave him the answer; Rodney suddenly realized that maybe he should take off his watch.

They had three weeks. While John got better, Rodney hoped to spend some time doing nothing. Staring at the ceiling, he planned his next few days. Today, he would try the bookstore. Maybe in a few days, John would be well enough to venture outside. Rodney put clothing on the list; John needed something other than the loose items he brought.

Rising, he went into the bathroom to get ready for the day. By the time he exited, Rodney found John staring out the window, waving.

"It looks nice out there," Rodney said conversationally. He came to stand just behind John's shoulder, ready to catch his friend if the need arose. "If you want –"

"No," John interrupted. He turned away from the window to face his friend. "I'm gonna stay in bed for now. Maybe tomorrow." Shuffling towards the bathroom, John quietly closed the door.

Great. Now he's depressed. Or maybe he's really just tired. Please. Like he would ever admit to needing to stay in bed. That should mean something, right?

Rodney's internal monologue continued until John walked unsteadily out of the bathroom. Watching him cross the room, Rodney could see John still favored his right side; the doctors had said he would for at least another week. Apparently, whomever had taken him only had the colonel's right side to play with. Broken wrist, arm, ribs, and the right side of his head. Jennifer had said the blow to the head came first, then perhaps the drugs. Rodney suddenly started thinking of bound variables, and that John could actually be part of a lambda abstraction. He could actually see the parentheses around the colonel's head.

"Stop thinking so hard," John said, amusement playing on his pale features. The big purple bruise only emphasized his hazel-green eyes.

"I can't help it. Hungry?"

John took that as a good sign, hoping Rodney was worrying over something other than an injured pilot. This was Rodney's vacation too, and John wanted his friend to relax. He glanced in Rodney's direction, and found the man staring at him intensely. "No. What?"

The intensity dimmed; Rodney's shoulders slumped defeat. Waving a dismissive hand, he reached for a pen and paper. "I'm going to the book store. Need anything?"

Sticking his feet under the covers, John thought about the question. Reading gave him a headache these days, but that would soon pass. He hoped. "Comics. The dark ones?"

Rodney shook his head in dismay. "Of course. Why do I even bother to ask? Graphic novels and a golf magazine or two, I'm guessing."

"Yup," John replied as he maneuvered on the bed to get comfortable, wincing at a twinge from his right arm.

Huffing, Rodney extracted four pill bottles. It was that time again, and he knew John would give him trouble. When he turned, he saw John with a glass already in hand. "Well, here. Take these so I can leave already." Rodney dropped the pills into John's lap. He watched his friend pick up each pill with slightly swollen fingers. "Lemme take your temp again, so I can have accurate records."

John froze mid-swallow. Records?

"Oh don't look at me like that. I promised that short evil doctor I would keep notes of pill dispensary, and anything else I thought needed notation."

As Rodney searched for the thermometer, the bedroom door opened. Madison entered, very carefully wielding a tray with a small bowl of something steaming, and two slices of toast.

"Good morning, Uncle John!"

"Hi, Maddie. Whatcha got?"

Beaming for all she was worth, Maddie walked slowly to John's side of the bed. "It's daddy's Extra Special Porridge. He makes it when I gets sick."

Glancing down at the steaming bowl, John seemed caught between a grimace and a grin. It didn't quite remind him of the sludge he was given while captured; the bowl had a distinct maple smell. A grin finally won out, as John took the tray. "This looks good. Thanks, Maddie."

She nodded once, and skipped away, waving at her uncle Mer on her way out. Jeannie appeared at the threshold, narrowly avoiding her daughter. "Hi, guys," she said, pointing to the bowl. "I see you got the Extra Special stuff. Maddie went through a Goldilocks phase for a while, so everything had to be called porridge."

Rodney peered at the contents of the bowl. "Oatmeal and maple syrup?" He gently touched John's shoulder to let him know there would be more touching. The colonel tipped his head so that Rodney could take his temperature. After the beep, Rodney frowned, but immediately wiped it away. "Well, I guess we'll see if the porridge does the trick."

Jeannie stepped fully into the room. "I've seen it work miracles," she smiled. "Okay, so what's on the agenda for today?"

"Bookstore? And maybe a Zellers, or something." Grabbing a pair of socks, Rodney sat at the foot of the bed to put on his shoes. He glanced back at John, who slowly ate the oatmeal, spoon awkwardly held in his left hand. "Do you like it?" Rodney asked, realizing he had been staring.

"Sweet," John said, cheeks pink with either fever or embarrassment, or both.

Rodney snorted. "Of course you'd like it, with your sweet tooth." Turning to his sister, he rubbed his hands together. "Ready?"

"Yup. Lemme get my purse." She jerked her thumb towards over her shoulder. "Kaleb will be here, working upstairs. So if you need anything, yell."

John nodded slowly; he was grateful Rodney would get some time with Jeannie. "Have fun."

Kaleb walked them outside, and strapped Maddie into her seat. He bent to kiss his wife, ignoring the sound of protest from Rodney. "Hey," he said, snapping his fingers. "Anything I should know about John?"

Frowning, Rodney actually thought about his question. "Just listen for him. He tends to have really bad dreams, so stay on his left. Oh, and duck."

Looking puzzled, Kaleb closed the driver's side door. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied, waving absently to Maddie in back.

Biting his lower lip, Rodney knew he shouldn't worry. Yeah, right. Well, English major, good luck! Then what? John hits the guy, and feels all guilty, then we're back to square one. "We could do this later. Maybe, I don't know, in a week or so?"

Jeannie gave a sympathetic smile. "You need a short break, Mer. We'll keep it to an hour, okay?"

Shifting in his seat, Rodney sat back and turned to stare out the window. "Fine. An hour."

"Don't worry Uncle Mer," Maddie offered. "I know where everything is. We won't get lost."

Rodney glanced at his smirking sister. "Maybe you can give your Uncle John pointers."

oOoOoOoOo

Shuffling around the mainstream bookstore, Rodney found himself in the graphic novel section. This wasn't the brightly colored, benign artwork from his youth. He wondered why Sheppard liked them so much. Flipping through the new releases, Rodney snorted at the exaggerated women, and the gratuitous violence. "No wonder he likes these."

Grabbing several from the racks, Rodney headed to more familiar territory. He spotted Jeannie looking over the latest Luke Borman discovery.

With laughter in her eyes, she waved her brother over. "I cannot believe he gets published. Take a look, Mer." A chipped fingernail lanced at an equation. "Three guesses to find what's wrong with that, and the first two don't count." The man had nowhere near the brainpower of Rodney McKay and Jeannie Miller. Together, they were unstoppable. Of course, the math would be correct, and more enlightened than this nonsense.

"Oh, for... We need to buy this, and mail it back to him with bad corrections." Classified is classified, right?

"And in pieces!"

They stood in the aisle laughing like crazy geniuses. Jeannie was happy to see the mischievous gleam back in her brother's eyes. "Let's go find Maddie."

The store clerk gave an annoyed smile as Rodney dumped an arm load of books and magazines on the counter. Just to spite the wannabe hipster at the register, Rodney kept adding impulse-buy items lining the racks below the counter. His fingers paused over a journal; he remembered the last time John suffered a traumatic experience, Kate had suggested a journal. Grabbing the four stuffed into the rack, he offered his credit card with a smile.

oOoOoOoOo

Bouncing from store to store left Rodney hungry, and a little irritated. The bright sunshine and pleasant breeze made him think of Atlantis more than he was comfortable. His thoughts kept straying to an injured colonel, laid up in bed. Twice he picked up his cell phone, only to have Jeannie snatch it away.

"If there's something wrong, Kaleb will call."

Sighing, he watched Maddie skip ahead of them, blonde curls bouncing. "Has it been an hour yet?"

"It has, but I thought you wanted to go in here?"

Looking up in confusion, Rodney wondered when they had arrived at Zellers. "Yes, yes. Give me ten minutes."

"I'll get the car."

Exactly ten minutes later, Jeannie found Rodney standing at the curb with three giant bags.

"What on Earth, Mer?" She released the hatch on the Prius, hoping everything would fit.

"Just some things I thought we could use."

She stuck her hand into a random bag. "Bubble bath? In four different scents, I might add." Her hand dipped in again. "Koosh balls?"

"You have no idea how much those help with stress," Rodney whined, stuffing the bags down in the back. When he settled into the passenger seat, his stomach rumbled loudly.

"Jeez, Mer. I guess we need to feed you!"

Rodney wanted to protest, but his empty stomach only growled louder. "Fine. Fine. Make it quick."

oOoOoOoOo

As Kaleb worked, his brother-in-law's words turned slowly in his head. The last time John had stayed with them, there were no nightmares, no screaming in the night. Or, Rodney caught it in time, he thought, before there was a disturbance. If that were the case, that would mean Rodney dealt with this on a regular basis.

Enough to know to 'stay on the left'.

As if on cue, Kaleb heard a muffled yell from below. Rushing downstairs, he came to the bedroom door. Before he knocked, a groan sounded from within. Politeness be damned. If anything happened to the colonel, Rodney would have Kaleb Miller's head on a stick.

If not, his wife definitely would.

Opening the door slowly, Kaleb hoped John was awake. The injured man was indeed awake, but sitting on the floor, very pale and shivering. "John?"

The man flinched and drew his knees up, resting his casted arms atop them. On further examination, Kaleb noticed that John was soaked with sweat.

"John?" he inquired again, moving closer; a slight moan was his answer.

Sheppard's glassy eyes tried to focus on the other man's face.

"I'm going to come closer, okay?"

Closing his eyes, John shook his head. "No. It doesn't work. I told you."

Still dreaming. "That's okay. I'm going to help you." Kaleb kept his hands visible as he took another step forward.

"Where's Rodney?" John's voice was barely above a whisper.

Surveying the twisted and damp bedsheets, Kaleb wondered how bad dreams could be. "He'll be back soon. We can call Jeannie if you want."

The glassy eyes sharpened their focus. "You don't know Jeannie." Sheppard rose faster than Kaleb was prepared, suddenly looming over him. "Who are you?"

Raising his hands, Kaleb tried not to squirm under the intense gaze of the colonel. "John? It's Kaleb Miller. You're at my – Jeannie's house. Rodney brought you here yesterday."

John's eyes softened immediately. "Kaleb? Sorry!" He swayed back into the curtains. "Oh, God. I –"

Placing his hands on John's shoulders, Kaleb held tight. "You back with me?" The colonel nodded uncertainly. "Okay. I'm taking you to the living room. You can rest there while I change the sheets."

"I... I can help."

Kaleb frowned as he felt John shiver under his hands. Knowing the colonel didn't want to be a burden, and he certainly didn't want to feel useless, Kaleb handed John a pillow. "You're in charge of pillows." He reluctantly left John to fetch matching sheets. Returning, he found the colonel working on the second pillowcase.

As he smoothed out the cool top sheet, he saw John's head bob once. Kaleb shook his head, unable to fathom the exhaustion and paleness his new friend displayed. The old Air Force T-shirt he wore was sweat-soaked, and the man wasn't going to last much longer.

"We should probably change that shirt, okay?"

"Mmm," John answered, eyes drooping further.

Guiding John to the bed, Kaleb maneuvered the languid arms without resistance. He finally saw what Rodney had been so worried about. It wasn't so much the countable ribs, but the massive bruise that covered John's right side.

"It's ugly," John mumbled, sad smile briefly bending his lips.

"No kidding," Kaleb said absently. "Sorry." He pulled back the covers, inviting John to lie down. Clearly, pillowcase duty had exhausted him. "I'll get a damp cloth for your head."

When he returned, he found John staring morosely at his pillow. "John?"

Sighing heavily, John glanced back at the other man. "I'm tired of being tired," he said as he all but collapsed onto the bed. He waved away the fresh shirt, opting to cool down first.

"Well, if you'd sleep for more than an hour, you might feel better." At John's derisive snort, Kaleb smiled. Adjusting the top sheet over the man's stomach, he lay a damp cloth over John's forehead. With a second cloth, he sponged down the colonel's exposed torso.

Kaleb had worked in a hospice one summer when he was in college. John reminded him of those patients, who never wanted sympathy or pity, only comfort. Relief flooded him as the colonel began to relax. Kaleb wondered what kind of people would do this to another person, as he stared at the mottled chest.

John mumbled his thanks, and slipped into deep sleep.