Thanks again for all the reviews, the alerts and to everyone who has followed the story. I'd also like to thank my trusty researcher Sterenyk Strey for encouragment, and keeping me right on all things Atlantis. And finally a special thanks to my wonderful beta shepsgirl72, for correcting my grammar, challenging me, and making sure my story sounded as good as possible...especially when she is in the middle of writing a fic of her own - of course all mistakes are mine!

Now on with the story. So, Forant has left the building, but what now for Sheppard? Read on and find out!

REUNION

CHAPTER 10

There had been no dematerialisation, no wonderful cranking whoosh, whoosh noise and not even any hint that a time machine had ever been present, as the jumper cloaked then simply disappeared. Rodney was so disappointed, he'd already started towards the exit and almost missed Sheppard as the pilot suddenly lost all remaining colour and listed to one side.

"John!" Rodney yelled, grabbing him just in the nick of time. "What's the matter? You look like crap."

"I'm good," John slurred. "Just tired from a little blood loss that's all. Some rest and fluids and I'll be just fine."

As Rodney shouldered John toward the bay exit, he was surprised but relieved to see Ronon standing there with a wheelchair. "What's going on, Sheppard? What did you do?"

"It's nothing…"

"He gave Forant two pints of his blood..." Ronon interrupted, as he came over and helped load a feeble John into the chair.

"You did what?" he raged at John, angry and worried at the same time. "Don't you know how dangerous that is? Why, Sheppard? And what the hell did he want it for anyway?" Rodney couldn't believe his ears, and was about to launch into a full-scale rant when suddenly a horrible thought struck him.

"You did it to save me, didn't you?" Rodney said quietly and signalled for Ronon to stop the wheelchair so he could go round and face his friend, to gauge his reaction for himself.

John was shivering, his bleary eyes huge in his pallid face, and Rodney pulled the blanket firmly, but gently round his neck. "Not your fault, McKay. If it hadn't been you, it would have been Zelenka or someone else on the science team. I'm just glad he didn't use force to take you…I wouldn't have put it past him."

Sheppard went into a coughing fit and Rodney fetched a glass of water from the nearest lab and watched, anxious. John's trembling hand shaking so hard, water was spilling over the side.

"Why didn't you say something?" Rodney paused, not taking his eyes off his friend's face for a second.

"Forget it… I know why. You didn't want to worry me, did you? he asked and got his answer when Sheppard avoided his gaze. "Anyway the chamber and the ZedPM I can understand, but what did he want with your blood?"

Sheppard grimaced, exhaustion evident in his features. "Medical reasons. Look no offense, Rodney, but I'm bushed. Could the question and answer session wait till after I have a nap?"

"Sure…sorry. And sorry for putting you through this. I should've known that sleezeball had an ulterior motive, but I got carried away. Thanks for saving my life…again."

"Would you look at the state of yourself, man." Carson addressed Sheppard as he stood waiting at the entrance of the infirmary looking pissed. "Right, wheel the colonel over to his usual bed, Ronon. It's probably still warm from the last time."

"Ever thought of taking up comedy, Doc?" John asked on a yawn.

"Wouldn't have the time, Colonel Sheppard. I'm too busy patching you up. Two pints of blood indeed…" Carson responded, his worry evident despite the sarcasm.

As Rodney watched an exhausted Sheppard getting settled into bed, he felt like a heel knowing he was responsible for his friend's latest stint in the infirmary. Despite what John maintained, Rodney realised it was all his fault for being naïve enough to believe Forant's invitation was genuine, and not realising the danger he'd put himself in.

"Is he going to be okay, Carson?" Rodney asked anxiously, as he watched the steady rise and fall of John's chest, his face composed in sleep.

Carson checked Sheppard's IV, closed the screen and walked over to join him. "He'll be fine, Rodney. Granted the colonel could have done without this latest escapade, but with rest and fluids, he should be back on the mend in a few days. Do you know what happened to his hand though? There a strange greenish discolouration on the palm, and it wasn't there when I took his blood."

"No…I haven't a clue." Rodney scratched his head, going though everything in his mind trying to remember what John had been in contact with. "I only saw him when he came into the jumper bay. First he spoke to me then Forant, and oh yeah, the SOB asked to shake his hand before he left."

Beckett shrugged. "Well the colonel isn't exhibiting any symptoms, and it's unlikely Forant would hurt the very man he saved. Still, it could have come from anywhere I suppose. I'll take a swab and get it analysed just to be safe."

Rodney had zoned out, lost in a world of his own, so preoccupied with what transpired that morning, especially what could have happened if Forant left with him on board, that he hadn't heard Beckett talking to him.

"I said, Son," Carson repeated, "none of this is your fault. Forant is a devious man who had us all fooled, so stop beating yourself up about it and go get something to eat," Carson smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm busy enough, and I don't want you in the next bed if your hypoglycaemia acts up."

"Sure, okay…thanks, Beckett. You're a pretty smart guy for a voodoo doctor." He watched Beckett shake his head, but the twinkle in the blue eyes told him his friend hadn't taken offence. It was what they did he and Carson. Old friends sharing a snark, but respecting the hell out each other.

"C'mon, McKay. Woolsey's waiting for you in his office, and afterwards Teyla's coming to sit with John, so Torren needs a sitter, and it's your turn." Rodney cringed, not knowing what was worse. The pain in his shoulder from Ronon's slap on the back, or the dressing down he was about to get from Woolsey…

ooooOoooo

All he needed was some fresh air. He was so damned hot, it was stifling in here.

If he could just snag a radio John was determined to give McKay a piece of his mind for messing with the environmental controls again, but Beckett had confiscated it, along with his sweats. Besides, he didn't have time…there was somewhere else he needed to be.

John flinched as he ripped out the IV, his hand stinging at the assault, drops of blood staining the sheets…more precious liquid he could scarce afford to lose. Still, it wasn't much and very soon it really wouldn't matter.

Now why did he think that? What the hell was wrong with him? Some air… that was it. A deep cleansing breath of fresh air in his lungs, cooling his clammy skin, and he'd be right as rain, whatever the hell that meant. John reached for his cane hoping Carson hadn't taken it too, but relieved it was close by the bed. Good…because he wouldn't get far otherwise.

It was quiet in the infirmary, no one about, the nurse on duty tending private Mitchell at the other end, the infirmary lights low, shrouding him in shadows covering his escape.

Although this wasn't an escape, he would be back, he'd promised Beckett, and he was a man of his word, Forant had said so. He just wanted some air…

John's head was pounding, beads of sweat dripping down his back, his chest, his face. Threatening to blind him as he stumbled out of bed, making so much noise he was sure someone must have heard.

Silently waiting for a moment, trying to still the loud thumping of his heart, John found himself still alone, so reached for his cane and made his way out the ward. His movements were slow and sluggish, uncoordinated, as he staggered, almost bouncing off the walls of the deserted corridors. Voices were calling to him, indistinct but compelling, pushing him onwards, he didn't know where, but deep inside, the dark, gnawing feeling of dread was palpable.

Each part of his body screamed, as tension vibrated though every nerve, every muscle, his chest so heavy, pressure building with every step. A weariness engulfed him, weighing him down, he was so damn tried…John just wanted it to be over. But what? He didn't know.

All around a myriad of colours flashed before his eyes. Hypnotic, rhythmic…the voices becoming louder, and louder searing deep into his soul. An invisible force pushing him forward sending him on with one single message…jump.

No…he couldn't obey them, wouldn't. Yet he couldn't stop his treacherous body pulling him, guiding him, until he was there, his final destination, the roof of the control tower.

It was dark. Stars sparkled in the velvet night sky as the wind whipped his hair, chilling his skin and he shivered when he saw the balcony... knowing what he must do. Darkness wavered and he stumbled, falling hard against the ground, crying out at the pain searing though his leg. A tear dropped onto his cheek, then another, until unhindered they couldn't be stopped, just like him as he dragged himself onwards, forward towards the ledge.

He punched his fists against the concrete, flinched at the pain biting though his hands, and watched as blood seeped through the ragged skin, but still he couldn't stop, helpless to resist the voices nagging in his brain. He must die…he wasn't worth the effort.

Nausea washed through him and he was trembling as he hauled himself onto the ledge. Just one more step…one single leap and it would all be over.

"John. Stop…don't do this," Rodney cried out and John turned to see his teammates and Beckett standing at the entrance.

"Can't stop myself, buddy. Why do you care anyway? I'm nothing but trouble, you guys would be better off without me."

"This isn't you, Colonel," Beckett shouted, sounding upset. "You've been drugged…Forant's doing. Come down from there, John, and I'll help you. Just a few hours that's all, and that bloody crap will be out your system and you'll be just fine." John could hear the words, and somewhere deep within his brain felt relief, but he was incapable of doing what he asked.

"The John Sheppard I know would never take his own life," Teyla stated as she edged towards him. "You must fight this, John, please. We need you…Atlantis needs you."

"Srr...y… can't…stop." Choked with tears, John gazed at the distraught faces of his friends for the last time, before he felt himself go limp as the voices made him take the final step…

ooooOoooo

Death shouldn't hurt, at least that's what it said in all the brochures, but at least it wasn't the searing agony of before. More of a dull nagging ache in his right leg, and a lingering soreness in his hands. Still the headache was a doozy, reminding him of the time just after graduation when he'd mixed shots of tequila with red wine…

A tug in his left hand made him wince, and he cracked open an eye to see Marie smiling at him as she changed out the IV…so not dead, but back in the infirmary again.

"Hi, Colonel," Marie said. "I'll let Doctor Beckett know you're awake."

As John watched her amble away, he wondered what the hell had happened? Last thing he remembered he'd been about to do a swan dive and become a pile of goo on the east pier. After that…zilch. It was like he'd been a prisoner in his own body, incapable of any type of control, yet knowing exactly what he was doing. Not unlike the time he was possessed by Thalen, but at least that guy, while causing havoc, didn't try to kill him.

Now, he felt spent, completely drained. Emotionally as well as physically. All of his hang-ups, the painful memories of bitter arguments with his dad, brought back to the fore in amazing Technicolor…crap.

Forant, the bastard, had not only opened up old wounds, but had actually tried to kill him. Why? Now there was a question. Was it because he turned down his offer to become the crown prince of Atlantis? Or was it because he perceived him as a threat? Who knew? John certainly didn't and right now, he was just too damn tired to care.

"How are you feeling, Colonel?" John scrubbed a hand across his face, and when he withdrew it saw Carson standing there.

"Huh?" John said, suddenly unsure how the answer the simple question. "Tired, sore, ashamed…Did I say tired?"

Carson checked his IV and pulled up a chair. "Well, I should say you would be tired after everything you've been through in the last couple of months, not forgetting the last few days. As for ashamed, why? You were drugged, Son. Some type of mind control substance designed to give the victim suicidal tendencies, but although it was a powerful bugger, at least it dispersed harmlessly after twenty-four hours. It knocked you out for a bit, though. You've slept straight through for nearly three days."

"Wha…" John rolled his eyes and flinched, immediately regretting the movement as it spiked the pain in his head.

"Here." Carson put a couple of tablets in his hand, then helped him take a sip of water. "That should help with the headache and the pain in your leg, but I'm loath to give you anything stronger." John gave him a quizzical glance. "I want to give your immune system a chance to recover, besides, once you're up and about…hopefully back to your quarters tomorrow, then Ronon can start back with the physical therapy, which will help ease your leg pain."

"So what's with the IV, Doc?" John asked, puzzled.

"Saline," Carson answered. "You still need fluids to replace the blood you lost, but this is the last bag, promise. Now there are people waiting to see you. Feel up to visitors?"

"Sure. Just one more thing, why am I not decorating the east pier by now?"

Beckett laughed. "You have Ronon to thank for that. While Teyla distracted you, he went behind and pulled you off in the nick of time."

"Right…the sneaky bastard manouver. Think I taught him that one." John smiled tiredly, grateful at his team's intervention, and as he struggled to shuffle up the bed, Beckett touched the control to raise him to a more comfortable position. "Thanks, Carson, and for patching me up again."

Beckett patted his shoulder. "Anytime, Colonel. I'm just glad we still have you with us."

"'Bout time. I was starting to think you'd never wake up. Jennifer's sister is only here for a week and I seriously thought you were going to miss her." Rodney plopped down on the now vacant seat, and John could tell despite the snark his friend was checking him out. Just to make sure he was really back to normal.

"Do you want to back up a bit, McKay." John asked. "I take it Doctor Keller's back, which is good. So how is her dad?"

"Yes, yes, Jennifer's back…arrived yesterday," Rodney continued, "but you were too busy doing your Rip van Winkle impression to notice. And yes, her dad is back at home making a good recovery, thank you for asking. Now, as I was saying…"

"Okay, so what exactly has Keller's sister got to do with me?" he interrupted, still confused.

"He wants you to meet her." Ronon replied grinning. "We've already met her," he winked at Teyla in a conspiratoral fashion, "dark hair, brown eyes…kinda cute."

Teyla came over and plumped his pillows. "As a matter of fact, John. I think Angela is just your type."

"Doc…isn't visiting time over by now?" John asked Beckett, looking for help. "Besides, I don't think I'll be able to make it 'cause even after I leave the infirmary, you'll still want me to hang around the base, oh, until at least after she's gone, right?" He pleaded, but saw Carson holding his hands up, smiling.

"Actually, Colonel, a wee trip off the base for a couple of hours would do you the world of good. And I've met the lass…she's a very nice young lady."

"Okay, I'll set it up for the day after tomorrow." Rodney took out his blackberry, taking the matter out of his hands, and started making arrangements.

John decided he would have one more try to get out of the date. "Seriously, wouldn't you guy's rather go on your own? I really can't walk far with my leg."

"No excuses, Sheppard, you're coming." Rodney said. "Besides we're just going for a drink. Drive there, sit on a chair, move your mouth up and down till noises come out…you know, conversation? I think you can manage that. Anyway, you'd be doing me a favour; Angela's a nice girl, but she's been hanging out with us since she arrived and…"

"And, you want me to take her off your hands," John interrupted, not fooled for a minute by Rodney's lame excuse. "Only one thing, McKay."

"Sure, what is it" Rodney asked with a puzzled expression

"Make sure wherever we go serves Guinness."

As the snark continued around him, John felt his lids start to close, and when he awoke it was dark. His friends had long gone, so had the IV much to his relief, and he felt more refreshed. In fact, better than he'd done in quite a while.

In the silence, John thought of the impending blind date and groaned…he really hated those. Occasionally, over the years, well meaning friends suggested paring him up, some even doing so without asking. But no matter how cute or nice the woman was, it was always awkward, the conversation stilted, and the questions asking how it went afterwards, too uncomfortable for words.

This time, he suspected McKay was doing it out of some misplaced guilt, because he'd been spending a lot of time with Keller. Truth was, he was happy for the guy, glad Rodney had finally found someone to make him happy. Same for Ronon, too, in fact it was good to see all of his team having a life outside of work.

What people didn't realise was that his work was his life, and despite the odd flirtation with the opposite sex, he was happy to keep it that way. Commitment, at least of the personal kind, was not for him. He'd gone down that route once, failed, and ended up making someone he loved very unhappy. Men like him were better on their own, with no ties, and no one to hurt if he didn't come home after a mission. Yet he wouldn't want to be without his friends, or Dave now for that matter, as it was kinda nice to think that if the worst did happen…someone would miss him.

John cringed, horrified at the thought he'd nearly taken his own life.

Despite what Carson had said, he still felt he should have tried harder, done something to make himself resist. Then a thought stuck him that maybe he hadn't, because a small part of him believed he deserved to die. "You torture yourself every day," his conjured image of Kolya had said, and it was true.

Guilt about waking the Wraith for one…the cherry on top of a very large freaking cake. Come to think of it, John realised he'd had a nerve to call Forant a serial killer, after all the subsequent deaths he must have caused by his actions that day. Although unlike Brantum, at least he hadn't known the implications of what he was doing at the time. Still, the old adage was certainly true; the road to hell really was paved with good intentions.

Yet, despite everything, he was still here and on the mend. So, although not religious, John couldn't help but wonder if something, a greater power maybe, wanted him alive, but if so, why? He hadn't a clue, but in the meantime he'd push his demons back into their box, heal and get back to doing what he did best, and hopefully in the process, try to make up for past transgressions.

As for Forant, the SOB was out there somewhere thinking he was dead. Still, at least that gave him the upper hand if they ever should meet again, and part of him really hoped they would. He relished the thought of getting payback, though not for himself, but for every man, woman and child who's lives the bastard had taken, not to mention the harrowing thought of what he would do in the future, or even the past…

Sheila the night nurse went by. She was new here, pretty, and he thought of his date in a couple of days. Jennifer was a good-looking woman and if her sister were half as cute, maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. Certainly, there were worse things than enjoying a couple of drinks in the company of a beautiful woman. Because life was short, especially for a guy like him, and he'd got lucky this time…twice. So why not enjoy himself while he could. Besides, it was Teyla's birthday soon and who knows, she might even help him with some shopping…

THE END

Well that's the end of the story and I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks to all of you who stuck with the tale to the bitter end, and to those who took the time and effort to review, a special thank you, because your feedback really is appreciated.

As for this chapter, please continue to review to let me know what you think - Thanks again, Joanie