See Chapter 1 for disclaimer. Thanks to musik-luvr, Titan5, neptune60, corkieshome, ShepsReyna, Denise, and Delka for your kind reviews of Chapter 3 :)

Chapter 4 / 11

"Sheppard! The chair! You have to fire the drones! They're coming!!"

John looked at Rodney, who was busy ripping apart the panel controlling the door to the chair room. The panel sizzled, showering Rodney with sparks. McKay cursed and jumped out of the way. "Chop chop! Today! That's not going to hold them off for long and I don't want my life sucked out of me if you don't mind!"

"I'm trying!" John had only sat down in the chair a moment ago, but it wasn't responding and it had already been longer than it ever took him to get results. He could hear the Wraith outside the door, pounding and clawing at it, so he slammed himself back into the chair and put everything he had into focusing on firing the drones. After an interminable moment, he warily cracked open an eyelid. Nothing. "Dammit! McKay, are you sure this thing's on? Could it have been damaged in the first attack?"

"Yes I suppose it could have been, but it wasn't! Why? What's wrong?" McKay's sarcasm turned to panic in the space of a few seconds. John couldn't say he was too far behind the physicist on that one.

"Nothing's happening Rodney, that's what's wrong. I'm telling this thing to power up and help me kill the Wraith, but it's not listening!"

"Oh that's preposterous! You barely even have to think about the chair to make it work. Did you break it or something?"

Rodney crouched down to check the chair's base, but suddenly a pale hand was pulling him away. John watched in horror as the Wraith threw him to the floor and ripped his shirt away. Three more Wraith entered the room behind the first, and John stood up from the chair to pull the first off of Rodney, but the others were already on him, holding him down. He heard Rodney scream even as he struggled against them.

"Nooo! Get off him! McKaaay!!" John yelled, his voice raw and lacking some of its normal volume. He tried to get up, but everything hurt, especially his middle. Were the Wraith feeding on his stomach?! He looked around and realized with a start that they were gone. So was McKay. He made an effort once again to sit up, blinking in confusion as his surroundings momentarily came into focus, but abruptly began spinning. He heard something beeping wildly off to his left, then hands were gripping his shoulders and gently but firmly pushing him back onto the bed.

"Colonel, I need ya ta calm down, son. Everything's all right. Just relax now."

John struggled briefly until recognition of the soothing Scottish accent slowly filtered through to his brain. He found Beckett and a nurse standing over him looking worried. "Doc?" he frowned, finally able to focus. "What's going on?"

"Ya were havin' a nasty nightmare from the look of it, but that's not entirely unexpected with the medication and what happened to ya earlier. How're ya feelin'?"

John considered it for a moment. Now that the adrenaline was fading, every muscle ached, including areas that hadn't taken a beating from their friendly neighborhood green-thumb. "Like I was tackled by one of the Jumpers, and then lost to Teyla in a stick-fight. How long was I out?"

"It's just after 0130. Ya slept through your scan and the surgery, and I was figuring ya were out for the night."

"Wait…surgery? What surgery?" John asked, the beep of the cardiac monitor speeding up minutely and betraying his anxiety.

Beckett smiled and rested a reassuring hand on his patient's shoulder. "Don't get yourself all riled, lad, you're doing fine. That knife just did a wee bit more damage to the muscle than I originally thought, and I wanted ta make sure everything was back together the way it should be before I closed up the wound. Your blood pressure dropped on us once though, that's why you're still here in recovery for a bit."

John nodded, shifting uncomfortably. His back was still throbbing viciously, even though Beckett had him on the good stuff. He could tell from the way his mind felt fuzzy, but the fact that he was able to think at all probably indicated that it was beginning to wear off. He tried to ignore the pain and asked, "Has Lorne's team weed-whacked Jungle Boy yet?"

Smiling a bit at the phrasing of the question, Carson shook his head. "Last I heard they had picked up a life sign in the area, but it vanished before they could get a fix on it."

"Where's my radio? I need to get Rodney down there with Lorne to see if he can find any clues about what's going on. That garden we never knew existed might just be a front for something else we never knew about." Shifting again he bit his lip and tried not to wince.

"You need ta rest. It's the middle of the night," Carson chided. "I'll let Rodney know the situation, but first I'm gettin' ya some more pain meds so ya can get some sleep."

"It's that obvious, huh?" John smiled sheepishly. His back really did hurt, so he wasn't ready to complain about being drugged to the gills for a little while longer.

"Aye. 'Jungle Boy' managed ta crack three ribs and bruise your kidney, among other things. I'd say it's just a wee bit obvious that ya might be in pain, lad." There was a measure of humor in his voice, but he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Sometimes the colonel could be considerably more daft than one would expect for his level of intelligence. Beckett disappeared for a moment and returned with a small syringe which he emptied into John's IV port. "Better?" he asked after a moment.

"Yeah…thanks, Doc," John mumbled sleepily as the throbbing dissipated into the background and he drifted back into darkness.

TBC…