Part X

"It is always the best policy to speak the truth—unless, of course, you are an exceptionally good liar." –Jerome K. Jerome

Sheppard continued to spend more time in the infirmary than Carson would have liked, hanging around Freya like an overprotective shadow. He had been tempted more than once to turn on the cameras in the room so he could listen in on the conversations that always fell into silence when he entered. And then there was Sheppard himself. The man was a different person around her.

Smiling, Carson walked over toward his patient. "Well, my dear," he said, making a few notations on his clipboard, "there don't seem to be any physical effects from your little episode."

"So, I'm free to go?" Freya had to ask

"Aye. But I want to hear from you the moment anything like this starts to happen. And I think you wouldn't be amiss in making an appointment with Dr. Heightmeyer."

Freya blanched. "I don't need a psychiatrist. There's nothing to be done."

Sheppard put a hand on her shoulder as she spoke. "Maybe we should all take this somewhere less public," he said.

"Do you have the cards, Bre- John," Freya said, correcting herself again, and blushing a little at the slip.

Sheppard nodded, and pulled a pack of playing cards out of a vest pocket. "Who deals?"

"You. Dr. Beckett, you might want to take notes. I'm not schizophrenic, but I do sometimes see or hear things. I'm a telepath," Freya said.

"You expect me to believe this?" Carson said.

Sheppard handed him the deck of cards. "You shuffle, stand over my shoulder, and keep records. The evidence kinda speaks for itself." He glanced over at Freya, thinking :I hope you know what you're doing.:

Carson grabbed a clipboard, and on a spare piece of paper wrote the words "correct" and "incorrect" over two columns. He then shuffled the cards, cut, and handed the deck to Sheppard. "If this is some kind of bloody joke . . ." he warned.

"As you can see, there's no chance Freya can see the card from where she is," Sheppard commented as he moved to sit in front of Carson. "Not precisely the traditional way, but hey, we're not performing a scientific experiment, are we?" He turned over the first card, carefully, and looked at it.

"Queen of hearts," Freya said, with no hesitation. Sheppard put the card, face down, off to one side, and drew the next. "Jack of clubs."

Fifty cards later, Carson was looking at the two of them, flabberghasted. "I don' bloody believe it. Fifty-two of fifty-two!"

"Believe it," they both said in unison.

"Can you repeat this demonstration, Ms. McAllister?" Carson asked.

"Any time. Though the degree of accuracy varies a little from target to target, at least with a deck of playing cards. I've found that using Zener Cards is more reliable. I should also mention that I've done this exercise and others and had problems with the different names dependant on the viewer's cultural origins," she said, and then shot a mild glare at Sheppard. "Tarot equivalents, Brendan?"

"You were paying attention," Sheppard said, grinning.

"Brendan?" Carson asked.

"Middle name," Freya commented, again repeating the lie Sheppard had given her to use.

"Well, I'd like to discuss you doing another show for Drs. Heightmeyer and Weir later," Carson said, deciding to check on the name later. He didn't recall offhand what Sheppard's middle name was, but he was pretty sure it wasn't "Brendan."

Freya woke up the next morning to the sound of her door swishing open. Then, the smell hit her. Bacon, French toast, and eggs. Her eyes popped open, and she rolled over to look to see who had brought it. To her, he looked slightly wrong in a t-shirt and jeans, but those hazel eyes and the mussed up hair were unmistakable.

"What're you doing here?"

"I should have thought that was obvious," Sheppard replied. "I'm bringing you breakfast. You didn't eat all that much yesterday."

She pulled herself up into a sitting position on the bed, feeling a slight tinge of embarrassment over her oversized sleep shirt, but then, Brendan had seen her in far more revealing clothes. "Where did you find real food?"

He walked over and gave her the tray, smirking. "I have my ways."

"You didn't shoot anyone, did you?" she teased, pulling the tray onto her lap. She picked up the fork, and took a mouthful of what had to be perfectly scrambled eggs, closing her eyes in pleasure. "I've only been here a few weeks, and I already miss Earth food."

"Well, some of the Athosian dishes are to die for," he quipped.

"Tava beans, Colonel?"

Sheppard had the good grace to blush at that. "Ok, so I've made a few mistakes since last we met."

"I'm still not quite sure why you bullied Dr. Beckett into releasing me, or brought me breakfast in bed."

"Maybe I just wanted to talk."

She didn't meet his eyes at that, instead, focusing on the food. It was a tactic Sheppard knew well. Freya was giving him a chance to talk with words instead of thoughts.

"You know, if you tell Elizabeth, she's going to want you to stay here on Atlantis," he began. "Cite some argument about a unique talent being too risky to allow out in the field."

"She's a good leader, and a brilliant negotiator," Freya commented. "You and I both know one of the best things a leader can do is protect their resources. That's why I was just the observer."

"Observer, my ass. With you on a case, things were solved in days instead of months. I wish I'd had you with me in Afghanistan."

"According to your file, that would have been almost a year before the Cazal investigation. You've been doing double-duty that long?"

Sheppard sighed. "You think fast."

Freya shrugged, and continued eating.

"It's hard to talk about, you know," Sheppard said, trying to begin again. "I know I want to tell you. Hell, I wanted to tell you when I was back on Earth for that furlough."

"Furlough?"

"After we got the ZeePM set up, Weir insisted the senior staff all go back through the gate to Earth and report. We had almost a month, considering the Daedalus takes eighteen days to make it between galaxies without the ZeePM boosting it."

"So why didn't you come?" Freya asked, looking at him for a moment.

"I didn't want to lie to you."

Freya chuckled. "You're blocking is good enough that you could look me in the eye and say what you wanted without me picking up a thought to the contrary."

"I've been wanting to talk to you about that. . ." Sheppard said.

"Changing the subject, Brendan?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. "I think the focus that I get from the blocking techniques may be part of the reason I can control the ancient technology so well."

"Makes sense," she replied, and popped a piece of bacon in her mouth.

"But that's neither here nor there right now. Rodney radioed about an hour ago to report, and Weir wanted me to check on you to make sure you were up for the debriefing."

Freya sighed. "I knew there was a catch."

"What happened on the planet has everyone worried," Sheppard said.

"It's inhabited, you know."

"You called the voices whispers, and dream eaters."

"They call themselves the dream eaters. I think, the problem was more of finding a common language, so to speak. I could almost hear the debating, no one voice was prominent." Freya shook her head. "If we can convince them, I want to go back. There's something there, and whatever they are, they connected with me."