Beckett came out into the small waiting area, his face grim. They were all there, Sheppard, Ronon, Teyla, Weir, even Zelenka, and he saw the apprehensive expressions and managed a smile. "It looks much worse than it is. Some cuts, and when I...removed...that collar…" He suddenly felt dizzy and reached for a chair, falling into it as they gathered around him. "How anyone could do that to another human being…" Beckett's voice broke and Weir and Zelenka patted him on the shoulder, while Teyla knelt next to him.
"We are all struggling to understand," said Teyla gently, "but I do not think it is something we could ever grasp."
"I don't want to grasp it," said Ronon gruffly.
They sat back down, waiting patiently while the doctor pulled himself together, and after a moment he smiled a little. "All right, let me try again. Extensive bruising, and sores on his neck under the collar, and cuts on his back where he was whipped." Beckett faltered at the last word, then continued, his voice gathering strength. "The wounds are infected, but he's responding well to antibiotics. He's severely dehydrated, and I've been replenishing his fluids. And they…" He took a deep breath. "They starved him, but that's nothing a few good meals won't fix."
Sheppard's face was white. "I want to see him."
"He's heavily sedated, man! He won't even know you're there." Beckett sighed as the colonel ignored him and headed for the back. "Aye, well, maybe that's best. He hasn't been doing so good himself, it might help them both if he just sits there with Rodney."
"So what's your prognosis?" asked Weir.
"Physically, there's no reason McKay shouldn't make a full recovery. In fact, once I get his electrolytes balanced, he can go to his own quarters. He'll have to continue the antibiotics, of course, but I don't foresee any complications. Emotionally, that's another story. He could have a long road ahead of him."
Sheppard heard the murmur of voices as he pulled a chair over to McKay's bed and sat down, staring at the face on the pillow. A number of monitors registered blood pressure, oxygen levels, the steady beat of McKay's heart. It was a reassuring sound, that soft beep, and Sheppard concentrated on it and tried to let it drown out his thoughts. The pain of seeing McKay like this, his body wasted by starvation and abuse. The guilt of knowing it was all his fault. The fear that his friend might not be able to put this experience behind him. Sheppard took one of the scientist's thin hands and held it tightly, wanting to plead for forgiveness and unable to find the words.
