Chapter 11.

Thank you for the reviews, they are really keeping me inspired. Again, thanks to the wonderful Kodiak for her superior beta skills.

As awareness filtered into John's confused brain, he slowly opened his eyes, blinking to try and focus on his surroundings. Sensing someone was nearby, he tried to persuade his eyes to co-operate, and let him see who was sitting at his bedside. Slowly turning his head to get a better view, he flinched as his nasal cannula pulled at his face. When did he get that? God, he hated the damn things. Remembering that he was in the infirmary, he moved gingerly, testing what hurt and what didn't. Immediately, pain enveloped him, and he unwittingly let out a soft moan. John screwed his eyes shut, and panted to try and control the agony that clawed at him.

"Colonel? John?" the soft voice called in concern. Teyla, it was Teyla sitting, watching him.

Opening his eyes to slits, Sheppard gradually managed to bring the Athosian's pretty face into focus.

"Hey. You okay?" he croaked feebly, coughing as his dry throat closed up. Pain flared in his ribs and side, and it took all of his self-control not to cry out. Slowly the pain receded, but he felt breathless and spent. That probably explained the presence of the cannula, he thought distantly.

Teyla smiled warmly down at Sheppard.

"I am fine. Do you remember what has happened?" she asked gently.

John frowned as he put together the shattered images in his head. He had been captured, so had Rodney, and – tortured. That explained the pain, then. Where was McKay, had he got out okay? John struggled to remember the precise details of what had happened. Vivid images flashed in his head, instantly vanishing before he could make sense of them. He remembered seeing Rodney in pain, blood on his mouth, bruises on his cheek. He grimaced as he remembered his own brutal beatings, and the other cruel, vicious torture he'd endured. McKay's desperate and defeated face suddenly flashed before John's eyes, and lingered hauntingly in his memory.

"McKay?" he asked in alarm.

Teyla leaned forward and stroked Sheppard's arm soothingly, being careful to avoid the wound and IV there.

"He is sleeping. Do not concern yourself. He is safe, and will be fine," she said, being careful not to alert the colonel to McKay's worrying mental state. "Would you like some water? Carson said you may have a little, if you want to?" she asked brightly, trying to change the topic of conversation.

John nodded, and winced as the healing skin on his shoulders pulled. Looking at Teyla as she raised the head of his bed slightly, he saw something in her eyes, something she was trying to keep hidden, but as he went to ask her more about Rodney, a wave of pain coursed through his chest, making John's breath hitch.

"Are you in pain?" Teyla suddenly asked, noticing the expression on Sheppard's face, and his sharp inhalation.

As Teyla put the straw from the glass of water to John's lips, he shook his head carefully.

"'M g'd," he mumbled as he sipped the soothing, cool water.

"That is enough," the Athosian cautioned John. "Carson was quite specific that you only have small sips. He said he did not want you 'tossing your cookies'," Teyla's expression was quizzical, as she endeavoured to repeat the strange expression, "with so many sutures in you," she laughed softly.

John managed a feeble smile, and grimaced as he imagined what throwing up would do to his present pain level, which was already becoming difficult to tolerate.

"Me neither," he agreed quietly, wincing again as his leg started to throb mercilessly, with his ribs competing simultaneously for first place in the pain stakes.

Sheppard became aware of Teyla's concerned gaze, and instantly tried to relax his creased, pained features.

The Athosian stood, and smiled in understanding. Turning, she walked away, to return a few seconds later with Carson in tow.

"I see you're awake, Colonel. How are you feeling?" Beckett asked seriously, as he glanced at the monitors around Sheppard's bed.

John attempted a grin, but only succeeded in grimacing.

"All things considered, glad to be here," he answered truthfully, yet skilfully managing to avoid the question Beckett was really asking.

Beckett chuckled. "Aye, I'm betting you are, as are we. How's your pain?" he asked more specifically, knowing that the colonel would never ask outright for pain medication.

Sheppard gave his standard answer.

"I'm good," he whispered, trying to convince himself he really did feel that way.

"And I'm Sean Connery," Beckett retorted sarcastically. "How on Earth do you expect me to do my job if you're not truthful with me?" he chastised his patient. "Your pulse is up, and you're sweating like Rodney does when he sees Katie Brown," the doctor retorted. There was annoyance in Carson's voice, but also a little levity.

Sheppard chuckled at Beckett's remark, but quickly hissed as his body complained at his involuntary movements.

"Okay, 007," John said in response, "I feel like crap. Happy now?" Sheppard replied reluctantly, in a somewhat petulant voice.

Carson tutted and shook his head in disapproval. "Hardly. Good job I came prepared," he said in an exasperated voice. He swiftly injected the contents of a syringe from his pocket into Sheppard's IV port. "You know, I usually put up an analgesic pump so my patients can self-medicate. I wonder why I don't bother with you, Colonel?" he asked pointedly.

Teyla smiled sadly at Carson. "Because John would not use it, and lay in pain, suffering unnecessarily," she answered in an admonishing tone.

"Aye. Spot on, Teyla," he grinned at the Athosian, who bowed her head in acknowledgement.

Sheppard sighed as the medication reduced his pain to a dull throb. His eyelids drooped as the familiar cotton wool feeling returned to his brain.

"You really are a daft bugger, Colonel. You and Rodney make a right pair," Carson commented. "You're the most infuriating patient, as you don't come clean about your injuries and pain, and then whine constantly when want to leave my tender loving care," he complained. "Rodney, conversely, is the biggest hypochondriac I think I've ever met, and that's saying something. He begs to be drugged, and then whines to stay here," he continued, irritation obvious in his tone. "Sometimes, I'd like to bang your heads together!" he finally exclaimed.

"Think my head's been banged enough recently, Doc," Sheppard slurred. "Rodney's always saying I can't afford to lose any more brain cells," he mused in a drunken voice. Suddenly becoming serious, Sheppard prised his eyes open and searched Beckett's features. "What's wrong with him?" he entreated. "I know there's something you're not telling me, so you might as well spit it out," he implored, and a hint of anxiety showed in his pale, tired face.

Beckett bit his lower lip before answering. "I don't want to worry you, Colonel. So, when you've had a little sleep, we'll talk about Rodney. All right?" he asked cheerfully, hoping his face didn't betray his own worry about the physicist.

"No," Sheppard replied succinctly, despite his drugged stupor. "Not going to sleep till you tell me. I'm not completely witless, you know." John grimaced. "God, I sound like Rodney," he whined breathlessly.

Teyla and Carson both laughed at Sheppard's observation.

"Seriously. Sleep. We'll talk later. Physically Rodney's healing well. His injuries weren't life threatening at any time. He's just a wee bit upset at the moment, that's all," Beckett explained, not feeling in the slightest bit guilty for being economical with the truth.

As exhaustion tugged at Sheppard, he wearily looked up at Beckett.

"'Kay," he answered drowsily, before finally succumbing to sleep.

Beckett looked at Teyla. "It's going to be difficult to keep Rodney's breakdown a secret from him," he observed, "but as much as I want to help Rodney, I have to consider the colonel's health. He's as weak as a new-born lamb right now, and burdening him with stress simply isn't conducive to him healing," he lamented.

Teyla sighed. "I agree. John will worry even more about Rodney if he knows the full extent of his condition," she said. "However, when Rodney does not visit him, John will become suspicious. As he himself said, he is not 'completely witless'," Her warm, velvety laugh filled the infirmary again.

"Aye, you're not wrong there, lass. The colonel's far more intelligent than he likes to let on," Carson agreed. "We're going to have to tread very carefully here. Though I'm worried about Rodney's mental state, the colonel's condition is still serious, and he can't afford any more setbacks," he warned.

"The situation is most worrying. How is Rodney?" she asked in concern.

Beckett exhaled. "He woke up about six hours ago in a dreadful state, demanding to be discharged again. He wasn't violent this time, but very distressed. Kate and I agreed to medicate him for the foreseeable future. At least until we can talk to the colonel and find out exactly what happened," he explained. "That's presuming Colonel Sheppard is willing or even able to discuss what transpired during their incarceration."

Beckett yawned tiredly and stretched his back.

"Carson, have you had any rest?" Teyla asked in concern.

Beckett smiled warmly at the Athosian. "Aye. Here and there, love," he answered honestly. "I'm used to burning the candle at both ends – comes with the territory," he joked.

Teyla raised her eyebrows in confusion. "I do not understand why burning a candle is relevant here," she stated in surprise.

"It's an Earth expression. It means working and playing hard," Carson patiently explained. "In my case, it means that I'm used to stressful, long hours with little respite."

Teyla nodded her head. "I understand. Still, you must take care of yourself," she warned Carson.

"Aye. I'll catch up on some sleep when I've got Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum sorted out," he quipped. On seeing Teyla's confused expression again, he shook his head, and laughed. "Never mind, lass," he said, as he busied himself checking Sheppard's various tubes and IV's, before smiling affectionately at the sleeping man in the bed to the side of him.

"What am I going to do with you and Rodney?" Carson asked John. "Sometimes I think you were both sent here to test my mettle," he muttered to himself absent-mindedly, as he walked away to check on the physicist, before catching up on some much needed rest.

-oOo-

John distantly felt a tugging sensation on his neck, and blearily opened his eyes to slits, to see Beckett standing over him. Consciousness had returned more readily this time, and Sheppard inwardly sighed when he took stock of his body, and realised his pain was still at a manageable throb. His head still felt foggy, and he recognised the familiar floating sensation of the morphine he'd been given, as it flowed steadily through his veins.

"Hold still Colonel," Beckett's soft brogue ordered gently, "I'm just removing this nasty IV here. I'm nearly done, lad," he assured John.

Sheppard snorted. "I'm not a baby, Doc. As much as I hate IV's, I know they're for my own good," he answered testily.

"Sorry, Colonel. I sometimes forget you're not Rodney," he chuckled.

"I'm not sure whether that's a compliment or an insult," Sheppard replied in amusement.

Carson smiled warmly. "There. All done. I've put a suture in, so don't go touching it," he warned.

Sheppard looked affronted. "Since when do I pick at sutures?" he demanded light-heartedly.

Beckett snorted. "As I remember, since the last time you were in here, Colonel," he said, as he raised his eyebrows.

"Good point," Sheppard conceded. "Okay. I won't touch. Scout's honour," he said, grinning warmly.

"From what I've heard from Rodney, I doubt you were ever a Boy Scout," Carson retorted.

John smiled his lop-sided grin, and shrugged his shoulders, immediately regretting the action as tendrils of pain snaked through his body.

"Crap!" he whined miserably. "Guess that wasn't a sensible thing to do," he admitted sheepishly, as he caught his breath.

Carson shook his head, and laughed. "I'd guess not. Try not to move too much for the moment, because, believe me, you'll be asking for more pain meds if you do," he warned. "Let's have a chat about your injuries. You feel up to that?" Beckett questioned the colonel carefully.

"Why not. What's the damage this time?" Sheppard asked casually.

Beckett let out a huff of breath, and grimaced as he began to reel off the list of injuries Sheppard had suffered.

John lay in bed wincing, as the impact of Carson's words hit him. Surgery for internal bleeding caused by injuries to his ribs and side, a bruised kidney, various knife wounds, burns and bruising, not forgetting his injured fingers. Lastly, the gunshot wound to his thigh, which was going to be a long time healing, and would require extensive physical therapy.

"Nice," John commented. "You sure you haven't missed anything else?" he joked, not expecting Carson to add anything more.

Carson's face darkened. "You nearly bled out, and then suffered a blood clot in one of the blood vessels leading to your lungs. We nearly lost you," he began gravely. "Don't worry, we got it sorted, and there's been no damage to your lungs. However – you will need to be on blood-thinning medication for the next six weeks or so, but with the PT on your leg, that's not going to hold you back from being on Active Duty anyway," Beckett concluded.

"Great," Sheppard sighed. "Is my leg going to get back to 100 again?" he questioned Carson. Apprehension showed on John's face, but he realisedhe needed to know where he stood.

Carson chewed on his bottom lip. "With a lot of hard work on your part – I don't see why not. Though it's going to be a long haul, probably several months, I'd guess," he answered honestly.

"Okay," John answered slowly, being careful not to let his concern at the news show on his face. "You going to tell me what's going on with McKay?" he asked. "I'm feeling much better now, and I won't 'pass out', as McKay so euphemistically puts it."

Beckett pinched the bridge of his nose. "Simply – he's suffered some sort of mental breakdown," he stated matter-of-factly.

Sheppard lay silently, assimilating Beckett's words.

"How bad?" John asked in a quiet, concerned voice.

"Bad. He handed in his resignation, saying he wants to go back to Earth, then became violent and irrational, and tried to leave the infirmary. Gave Ronon a nasty black eye in the process." Carson dropped the bombshell carefully, and unemotionally.

John looked up at Carson's face.

"Can't say I'm surprised, Doc," he admitted. "He went through hell," he continued, his voice almost a whisper, "and he's not trained to take that sort of mental and physical abuse," John added sadly.

Beckett put a hand on John's shoulder and squeezed gently.

"You've both been through hell, Colonel. Yes, you've been trained to deal with it, but that doesn't mean it's affected you any less. You just don't show it, lad," he warned Sheppard.

Sheppard smiled briefly, and shook his head carefully.

"Nah. I'm good," he assured the doctor.

"I sincerely doubt that," he reproached. "I need your help, and I know it's not going to be easy," he began, regret showing in his voice and features.

Sheppard interrupted Beckett's words.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, though John already knew deep down what Carson needed of him.

Beckett exhaled. "Can you tell me exactly what happened to you both on the planet?" he asked gently. "I know it's going to be painful for you, and we can stop at any time, if you feel it's getting too much," he assured John, "but – it would really help Kate and me in knowing how to press forward with treatment for Rodney," he explained.

John looked away from Carson, and bit his lower lip. He turned his head back to face the doctor and nodded, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead.

"Okay. Where do you want me to start?" he whispered, a slight, almost inaudible quiver present in his small, lost voice.

Carson considered John's question.

"The beginning's always a good place to begin, son," he replied knowingly.

Beckett sat and listened to the shocking events that his two friends had been forced to endure. Throughout John's recounting of his memories from his and Rodney's time with the Torellian's, Carson said nothing, just nodding or jottting down notes on a pad of paper. Every so often, Sheppard paused, and cleared his throat, as the emotional turmoil took its toll on him. Half an hour later, and John had finished. He lay silently, eyes screwed shut, as he fought to control himself. The pain from his abused body had returned mid-way through his recitation, and together with the emotional stress he was feeling, he desperately craved another dose of Beckett's magic pain reliever, but was too proud to ask for the potent cocktail.

Sheppard's prayers were answered as he felt the familiar tug of the IV line on his arm, and momentarily felt cool liquid travelling up his arm, and into his body. Without opening his eyes, he sighed, and quietly whispered his thanks to Beckett.

"You're welcome, lad. Get some sleep. We'll talk later," he said, as he checked Sheppard's monitors, before quietly leaving the colonel's bedside.

-oOo-

As he returned to his office, Beckett found Heightmeyer sitting by his desk, obviously waiting to talk to him.

"Carson?" the psychologist began, "how's Colonel Sheppard?"

Beckett flopped in his chair and put his elbows on the desk, before lowering his head into his hands, and then sat upright, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Christ, Kate. I've just spent half an hour with the colonel, while he told me exactly what happened to Rodney him and on the planet. Poor lad," he sighed, "it's a miracle he's not needing sedating too. Yet, all he can say is he's fine, and that Rodney went through so much."

Kate smiled grimly.

"Colonel Sheppard internalises everything. We already knew that, Carson. That's his coping mechanism. Short-term it appears to work for him, but I'm concerned about him filing this away in an empty part of his mind," she warned. "It's simply not healthy, especially when you consider what else is already stored there. Sooner or later, he's going to have to face his demons."

Beckett frowned.

"They're both going to have to," Beckett commented. "I just hope the damage isn't irreversible – for either of them," he added sadly.

Tbc.