Beckett had watched Sheppard leave to go to his fight and had then been roughly escorted back to his room. He'd asked whether or not he would be-able to tend to Sheppard's wounds, careful not to use his name, after the fight and he had bluntly been informed that it would have to wait until the morning.

He had been provided with a foul looking meal and then the door had been locked.

He was at current sitting on his hard mattress and poking at the food before him with a look of disgust plastered onto his weary face. It was going to be a long, sleepless night.

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Sheppard was hit full on in the chest and he sailed backwards and struck the side of the arena with a loud thud. Pain ricocheted down into his limbs and he dropped the large hunting knife he had been wielding. He got up slowly, avoided the hand which came down towards him, and lunged out with his foot. It connected solidly with the wraiths leg but it didn't knock him down.

He was pulled up by the front of his vest and thrown again. He couldn't cushion his fall and landed on his chin. He saw stars as he brought his head up and could feel blood run down his neck.

He rolled over, scrambled on his hands and knees until he was at a distance where he could get back up to his feet. He mentally shook himself and waited for another attack.

This fight had been going on for a long time, he was exhausted and the wraith was showing no signs of slowing in its attacks.

He caught the wraiths wrist and twisted it, trying to make a satisfying crack, but the wraith just picked him up as if he weighed nothing and tossed him across the arena again.

"This…is getting old," Sheppard groaned as he moved stiffly to get up. He planted his hand down on the floor to push himself up and realised that the move was ineffectual and he crumpled back down into the dirt. His shoulder had been dislocated clean from its socket and his arm was hanging limply.

The wraith lunged down at him and he tried a new tact, lying back he thrust his legs up and caught the wraith squarely in the chest. It stumbled backwards and Sheppard clawed himself up into a standing position, holding his arm close to his chest to alleviate some of the pain he was feeling.

He ran back over to where he had dropped his knife, turned quickly to avoid a blow, and sank it into the wraiths back. The wraith reached behind and pulled it out, examining the black blood on the knife and then throwing it to the ground.

"You've got to be kidding me," said Sheppard as he heaved in a breath to stave off his greying vision.

He was hit in the face and it rocked his head backwards. He went down and couldn't get back up. His adrenaline was wearing thin and his head was aching to the degree that it made thinking difficult. He reached out with his good hand and found it clasping around something familiar. He bought it up to his face and found himself smiling. It was his 9mil.

He pushed himself up with his last store of energy and fired off consecutive shots until the wraith went down to the ground, then getting up onto his knees he fired off the remainder of the clip.

The wraith was still, but he knew it took a lot more to keep these things down. He was hesitant as he approached and he realised quickly that he should have been more careful because the wraith sat up unaffected and then pinned him down, ripping open his vest and exposing his battered chest.

He rolled over as the hand which was going to suck the life out of him hit the dirt and moved in painful gasps to the edge of the arena. He sat, sucking in deep breaths of air, as the wraith got up onto his feet.

"Okay," said Sheppard using the wall to pull himself up. He ran forward and slammed into the wraith, knocking it down again. His wrist was seized and pulled back on itself. The howl of pain that escaped his lips silenced the arena for a moment and then resumed in a cacophony of cheers.

"That's it!" shouted Sheppard as he slammed his one good hand up into the wraith face. He felt the satisfying crunch of cartilage and while the wraith was incapacitated he retrieved a long spear type weapon and was trying to get it into position when the wraith knocked him onto his back. He only just managed to hold the spear up vertical as the Wraith jumped onto him and it slid down the shaft of the spear and lay on top of Sheppard dead.

Sheppard couldn't push it off, he was too weak and too tired and he hated himself for having to engage in this fight.

The next thing he knew the wraith was being pulled off him and he was being pulled up to his feet by his bad arm. It was too much and the pain forced him into black submission.

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Beckett laid his hand on Sheppard's shoulder as Gabe hovered close by. He had his hand protectively over Beckett's medical bag as Beckett tried to coax Sheppard out of unconsciousness. He was sick with worry. He hadn't been able to come down to the cells until the morning and he had lain awake all night wondering if Sheppard had even survived the fight. He was relived to see him lying in the corner of the filthy cell but his lack of response was now starting to concern him.

"Colonel," he said rocking him lightly.

"Mmm," Sheppard groaned and shifted his head away from him but didn't wake.

"Come on Colonel, I need you to open your eyes so I can assess the damage and make you feel more comfortable."

"G' way," he mumbled bringing up a hand to swat him away. He wasn't in any danger of it leaving a mark as Sheppard was still pretty out of it.

"Colonel," Beckett tapped his cheek and finally Sheppard opened his eyes a crack.

He couldn't make out faces, just shapes over him and it took a few more blinks and the dizziness in his head to abate before he could see who it was.

"Beckett," he said in a voice which spoke volumes about his physical state.

"I need you to tell me what hurts."

"Shoulder," said Sheppard in a drowsy voice, "And wrist."

He closed his eyes and Beckett had to shake him again to get him to be more responsive, "I need you to sit up."

"No," Sheppard said waving his good hand up in the air, "Tired."

"I know," said Beckett.

"Tired, tired, tired," Gabe said in a sing song voice as he watched Sheppard.

Beckett turned to him, "Its okay," he said mimicking Sheppard's earlier treatment of the guy. The last thing he needed right now was Gabe aggravated and violent.

"Colonel, I really need you to sit up."

Sheppard opened his eyes all the way, expecting the harsh light of a penlight, but instead he found that, for once, the darkness of the cells was agreeable. With some help he managed to prop up against the wall. His eyelids were already closing, feeling for all the world, as if they were made of lead.

He could feel Beckett making his examination, prodding and poking and using his fingertips on his skin. He winced when he found the open cut under his chin. "Not so..hard," he managed to articulate through the fuzz.

"I'm sorry," said Beckett, "Bloody senseless fighting."

"Sense-less," Gabe tested the word and repeated it a few more time.

"Gabe, you're giving me a headache," Sheppard said.

"Okay," said Beckett rocking back onto his heels, "It looks like you've dislocated your shoulder and on the same side you've got a badly sprained wrist."

"Gr..t," Sheppard said as he tried to stay conscious. He just wanted to slip back under the surface of his consciousness again to rebuild his strength.

"Colonel, I'm going to give you an injection of morphine and then I'm going to put your shoulder back in and set your wrist. This is going to hurt."

"Mmm," Sheppard groaned.

"John."

At the use of his first name he tried to be more alert, "Yeah?"

"This is going to hurt a lot."

Sheppard nodded, "Just do it," he said.

Beckett started by giving Sheppard an injection of morphine and then started with the process of reduction. Sheppard barely made a noise as he pulled and pushed his shoulder back into its socket being mindful of his wrist injury. He could see that Sheppard had fallen back into sleep again and it was a good thing too.

After setting his wrist in a splint and bandaging it up nice and tight he gave Sheppard another wake up call, "Come on Colonel."

"Iss d'ne," he slurred as he dragged himself back to reality.

"It is," he said closing up his medical bag.

"Not sure I can do this again," he admitted.

Beckett felt his forehead and tutted, "I don't think you can either." He attempted to clean up Sheppard's chin as best he could and remove some of the dried blood, but the raw wound would probably leave a scar.

"Hot," he said exhaling, "Tired."

Beckett allowed him to sleep again and positioned him onto his other side so he would be more comfortable. He turned to Gabe and gripped him either side of his shoulders, "Listen to me."

Gabe's eyes were everywhere but on his and Beckett spoke more forcefully, "Gabe," he said.

Gabe focused on him, his mouth moving silently.

"I need you to check Sheppard every now and again. I need you to wake him to make sure he's okay. Do you understand?"

Silence.

"This is very important. Gabe?"

"Wake, wake," Gabe said moving away from him, "Wake Sheppard."

"Yes, wake Sheppard."

Gabe moved forward to shake Sheppard.

"No, not now. Later."

Gabe's hand hovered over Sheppard's shoulder.

"Later," repeated Beckett slowly.

Gabe nodded, "Later," and dropped his hand to his side.

--------------------------

TBC

Only a short chappie but I wanted to get something up for you guys.

Oh dear, I've got to stop being so mean to old Shep!