A/N: Because you all rock, and cliffhangers suck, I decided to post this a few days early. Enjoy!

Ch. 13

Shadow Land

There was a reason Carson preferred sleeping in his office. The nurse barging into his room only had to call his name and he was up, tugging on his shoes and charging out the door right behind her. She led him to the private unit of the infirmary and an empty bed with rumpled blankets and discarded wiring and tubes.

"Are people bloody deaf? Why didn't anyone hear the monitors go off?!"

"He turned them off before anyone had a chance to respond to them," Janet, the night nurse, breathlessly explained. "I didn't know anything was wrong until I passed the cubicle and didn't hear any beeping. We already searched the infirmary. He isn't here."

Carson moved away from the bed straight to the door. "Maybe he didn't get too far. We'll do a quick nearby sweep. If that doesn't pan out, I'm calling in a search party."

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

It was hard to walk, hard to see. John's legs felt like the bones were turning to rubber, forcing him to prop himself up against the wall as he walked. Everything was blue spectral lights and hazy halos softening harsh corners, blurring shapes. Ki'vana was a human shape darker than the darkness and always too far ahead to keep up with. John wasn't sure where they were going today. Morticia liked to keep things interesting, and one hall looked like another.

Except this one. This one was different while still vaguely familiar. He would think even his uncooperative brain would have sense enough to make careful note of the one set of corridors on the hive sporting a unique personality. He would have asked if something had been done to the place - a little remodeling or interior decorating, if wraith did such things - but he didn't have the energy to give a damn. The air was cooking his skin without penetrating to melt the chunk of ice freezing his innards. He folded his arms tight over his chest, sweat-slicked skin sliding over sweat-slicked skin. No wonder he was freakin' freezing. So why was he also roasting? He really hated his body, sometimes.

Wherever they were going, it was getting darker.

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

"He's emaciated, he's sick, and he upped and walked away less than thirty minutes ago," said McKay. "How the hell could he get lost so fast?" He was dressed, probably had been dressed when the call came that help was needed to locate Sheppard. In fact, he'd probably never went to bed.

Ronon made sure his weapon was set to stun, holstered it, and then thrust an LSD into Rodney's hands. "Weren't you the one saying he could get lost even with a GSS?"

Rodney clutched the device in both hands and scowled. "That's GPS, and this is different. He shouldn't have been able to get that far... unless he veered off course into one of the uninhabited sectors." His face paled a few shades. "In which case, he must be really, really, really delirious. Crap! He's hard enough to deal with when he's sane."

Ronon grinned. That's what he liked about Sheppard. The man knew how to fight back even when there was nothing left to fight.

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

Teyla had to admire her own timing. She had been just completing her nightly stretches when the call came that Colonel Sheppard had wandered from the infirmary. She moved quickly, changing from skirts to pants, and grabbed the flashlight Sheppard had told her to keep with her in case of blackouts. She did not feel it necessary to head to the armory for a stunner. In fact, simply considering it sickened her. Sheppard's fear, desperation, and constant flinching had branded themselves into her brain, and she resolved not to do anything that, though probably harmless, still felt like harm.

She headed from the room, guided by the constant chatter over the com.

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

Are we there yet--are we there yet--are we there yet?

An exemplary way to be an ass, but the last time he'd tried that, Ki'vana had approached the nearest wraith and asked in almost motherly concern if he was hungry. The wraith had fed until Sheppard's newly arthritic knee collapsed him to the floor, only to stand on a perfectly fine knee after being restored by a passing drone.

John thought he might be going blind. He could barely see Ki'vana, who seemed to be fading in and out of his vision, probably thanks in part to the poor lighting that sometimes flickered. They must be in a damaged sector of the hive. Maybe this was a new task – home repair, which John had always sucked at. Give him a busted car engine to a leaky faucet any day.

They turned a corner into a slightly more, while still wanly lit, corridor where Ki'vana vanished. John's heart thudded hard.

"Oh no."

Ki'vana had never ditched him before, had always made sure he followed. This was a trick, a test. They were giving him an opening to escape just so they could catch him, beat him, kill some innocent, feed off him, stick him in a cubby...

"John?"

John blinked in alarm when Anja stepped out from an adjacent hall. Anja, dead Anja. Unless that hadn't been her who'd died prematurely. Maybe it had been some other old woman remarkably similar. Maybe they had hid Anja away and then restored her to use again and again and again whenever John was bad. His heart hammered and his body shook.

"Anja. What are you doing here? Never mind," he hurried forward, grabbing her by the wrist to start dragging her back down the hall, maybe to the kitchen or sewing room, someplace harmless where she couldn't be blamed for his actions. "You can't be seen with me. They'll punish you if they do."

"John, what are you talking about?"

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

"Stick-skinny arms and brittle bones aside, he could still stick out one of his long legs and trip me so I land flat on my face and break my nose."

Ronon rolled his eyes. He had made the mistake of saying three little words - "Sheppard is sick"- when Rodney wouldn't stop going on about the dangers of Sheppard not being in his right mind.

They were in one of the damaged sectors of the city not too far from the infirmary. The inhabited sectors had already been cleared by the other teams, putting McKay into a momentarily smug mood before falling back into paranoia. The current hallway was water-stained with what looked to be a few dead, dried sea-creatures encrusting the previously metallic walls. Once bubbling pillars were cracked, but the glass still maintained its hold on the dormant liquid.

"He might even be armed with a piece of metal or something. A shiv. And just my luck I'll be the one shanked, because if it really is the universe verses McKay, it is, thus far, really kicking my... hold up." He came to a sudden stop, then pointed right. "I'm getting something that way." He stepped back and waved Ronon through. "After you."

Ronon rolled his eyes a second time before moving on. He slowed at the low, echoing mumble of voices.

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

Teyla remained methodical in her search, moving slowly and calling out softly so as not to startle John should he be nearby. The corridor was being partially powered to help better the search. But it was not much, a pallor of illumination that seemed to do more harm than good by sharpening shadows that played tricks on the mind. Things moved out of the corner of her eye, only to still when she turned to face them. It was like combating wraith illusions.

Teyla entered into one of the wider corridors with broken pillars and flickering lights. It was more a chamber with a high ceiling and a glass wall on one side through which she could see stairs weaving back and forth up to the next level. Her mind shot back to a similar room and the same man she searched for now skittering up the walls like a true insect. Her muscles involuntarily clenched and her heart pounded.

He is the opposite of that, the complete opposite.

She moved toward the stairs when a flicker of motion on her left pulled her attention. She whirled around to see John just entering from the other side of the chamber, keeping to the wall for support, his legs shaking and his chest heaving with labored breaths that rasped hollow in the massive room.

Teyla smiled in relief. "John."

John halted, snapping his head up. His look of confusion morphing instantly into fear startled her to a halt.

"Anja," he said. "What are you doing here? Never mind." He staggered forward to grab Teyla by the wrist and start leading her away. "You can't be seen with me. They'll punish you if they do."

Teyla followed along, not knowing why, and shook her head. "John, what are you talking about?"

His too thin, pale face with its hollow cheeks and sunken eyes flashed a nervous glance over his shoulder. "Just... trust me, all right?" he said, hoarse, frightened, and desperate. "What they did to you…" Teyla could hear him swallow. "…it was my fault. They fed off you because of me. That's why you can't be seen with me; they'll just do it again and again…I... I gotta pretend I don't like you, all right? If I do that, maybe... maybe they won't do anything…ah crap, who the hell am I kidding?" His voice cracked. "I gotta hide you…I... I can't let them... not again, please, not again."

An unseen fist felt as though it were clenching Teyla's heart. "John, colonel, it is me, Teyla." She dug her heels into the floor forcing a stop that Sheppard didn't have enough strength to fight against. He turned to her and stared, painful confusion making his face all the more sickly. Teyla twisted her wrist easily from his grasp, simultaneously capturing his hand in hers.

"You are not on the hive ship, John. You are home, safe. No one is coming for us; no one is going to hurt us." Now she was the one doing the tugging. "Please, come with me. I must take you back to the infirmary. You are sick and Dr. Beckett..."

John pulled back. "Sick?"

Teyla nodded. "Yes, from infection and..."

He blinked incomprehensibly. "In -infirmary?"

Again, Teyla nodded, more urgently. She needed to get him back while he still stood. He could hurt himself if he collapsed; Carson had said as much. "Yes, the infirmary."

John swallowed, shaking his head. "I'm... I'm not sick." Then he wheezed out a hysterical chuckle. "I'm... I'm fine…I'm perfectly fine. I don't need healing; I'm fine."

"Yes, John, you do, you are very ill."

His gentle head shaking turned frantic. "No, I'm fine. I'm just tired; I don't need to be healed."

Teyla resumed tugging. "John, you are very ill. Just come with me."

John recoiled, trying to yank his wrist from Teyla's stronger grasp. "No, please, I'm not sick, I'm not..." She could feel him shaking, see it in his shoulders, and the abject terror in his begging eyes. He gripped her wrist trying to pull her hand off while twisting his own wrist in the feeble hope of wriggling it free. His lack of strength made her want to weep, but she could not let go. "Don't put me in an alcove…I don't need it…I swear. I'm fine; I'm perfectly fine." He dug his heels into the floor, bucking back as she pulled forward. His breathing increased to ragged gulps, his pulse with it humming beneath her fingers. "Crap, please don't stick me in there! I don't need it; I don't freakin' need it…I...!"

"Teyla?" Ronon's voice. John whipped his head around, breathing hard, and placed himself in front of Teyla, forcing her back as he backed up.

Ronon entered first, followed by Rodney close behind, both men stopping at the sight of their two retreating team-mates.

"No, no, no, no, no..." John mumbled. "Oh, gosh, no." His whole body shook, his back curved in a tightening cringe, the peak of his backbone to pressing sharply against his skin. He kept one arm back herding Teyla away from the two men.

Ronon stepped forward with his head tilted to one side and his finger tensing on the trigger of his stunner. "Teeeeyla?"

Teyla had to stand on tip-toe to peer over John's shoulder, so she could shoot the runner a warning glare. "Ronon, do not even think about it. John is not going to harm anyone. He is confused and scared and..."

John moved forward so suddenly that Teyla startled and Ronon inadvertently brought his blaster up.

John halted, raising both hands in a placating manner, while shrinking back. "Please," he said, his voice reasonable yet strained. "Please, don't. Don't hurt her. I wasn't trying to escape, all right? I just lost sight of Ki'vana and I was trying to find her. You don't need to do this."

Ronon lowered his weapon. "I wasn't going to do anything."

"Yes, you just like whipping out your gun for show," Rodney sniped.

"Rodney," Teyla hissed. "Not. Now!"

Ronon took another step forward, then another, and John stayed where he was, shivering so hard, Teyla was surprised he didn't fly apart. When Ronon was three feet away, John straightened, resolved yet frightened, tugging down on the collar of his scrub to expose his chest.

Even in the gloom Teyla could see Ronon's face pale. He stared at John horrified, actually horrified, then looked past John to Teyla, asking without words what was going on, what he should do.

"No!" John gasped, reaching out without touching Ronon. "No, take me. Please, just... it was a mistake. You know it. I'm the one who needs to be punished. I'm the one you want in pain, right?" He twitched a sickly smile. "I'm the wraith killer. I'm the one who needs to hurt, right? I'll let you hurt me. I'll – I'll - I'll do whatever you want. I'll..." he started lowering himself to his knees on unsteady legs that gave out, dropping him the rest of the way. "I'm kneeling… I'm kneeling… I'm kneeling just like I said I would. Please…just don't… just don't…" he gasped, and his breathing hitched in a sob, "…please don't."

For a moment, Teyla thought Ronon was going to be sick, and she sympathized. Her stomach coiled into tight knots threatening to expel all contents. Behind Ronon, Rodney, white-faced, stood gaping and wide-eyed.

John continued his litany of begging, curling forward and rocking in growing agitation. Ronon looked down at him and, for a moment that felt too long, just stared. Then, finally, he holstered his weapon and crouched in front of his team leader.

"John?" he whispered. His hand started making its way towards Sheppard's shoulder.

That's when Sheppard crumpled, toppling onto his side in a shivering, panting heap.

Teyla snapped from her shock and ran, dropping to her knees beside Ronon and next to John. Ronon bent low taking Sheppard's face in both his hands and gently turning the man's head to establish eye contact. John's eyes were heavy-lidded slits, unfocused but still open.

"Sheppard," the Satedan breathed. "It's Ronon. You're home, you're safe. Look at me, Sheppard."

John sucked in a breath that he released on a liquid cough. "Ro... Ron-on," he rasped.

Ronon nodded. "Yeah, it's me."

"Ron... Ro..." He coughed again, hard enough to shake his body like he was having a seizure. Then his eyes slid shut and his body went limp. Teyla pressed her fingers to his neck, breathing out in relief on feeling the rapid but still steady thump of his pulse.

"He is alive," she said. "Just unconscious. I will call Dr. Beckett."

"You do that," Ronon said, gathering John into his arms. "Tell him I'll meet him half way." He lifted Sheppard easily, like the man was nothing more than sticks and cloth, and walked fast back down the corridor, taking long strides that ate up the distance.

Teyla remained kneeling. She looked over at Rodney, recalling that he was there, still staring, still gaping. His jaw snapped shut and he returned Teyla's gaze.

Teyla had never seen him so confused, so lost, so without an answer for once in his life. She wondered if she would be able to get him to move, let alone say something.

Then Rodney blinked as though waking up, even though the expression remained.

"They broke him," he stated, tone curious, eyes terrified. "They... they broke... him." He then wandered off, back the way he had come.

SGA

"They broke him. They broke him, they... they..."

"Rodney, you are overreacting. You saw what was going on. He was merely trying to protect someone," said Teyla.

"Yes, which usually involves a lot of fists flying or him stepping between a weapon and that someone... not prostrating on the floor in humble obedience and crying!"

Carson listened with one ear to the crackling breaths deep in John's lungs through the stethoscope pressed to the bared back. With the other ear, he kept tabs on the conversation. It was easier than having to ask any questions.

"McKay," Ronon said in that deep, rumbling way of his, like a warning growl a dog might make. "Teyla's right. You're making a big deal out of it. Don't."

Carson flicked his eyes to and from the three standing a few feet from Sheppard's bed, awaiting word on the man's condition and having their own little impromptu conference in the mean time. Elizabeth was standing a little off to the side wearing a plain white robe over her pajamas. Beckett had been a little surprised she hadn't started asking questions from the team, because he was certain she felt a little nervous about doing so. She looked nervous, and Carson didn't blame her. He'd never seen the three of them this 'disturbed' before. Worried, very worried, but never to the point of this type of tense discomfort, as though they did not know what they were supposed to be doing next, let alone be doing with themselves – like children standing before the window they'd just broke, trying to work out a cover story and failing.

Carson switched the bell of the stethoscope to the other side of John's back. He had already taken note of the darkening bruise spreading over the healing bruise across Sheppard's flank. Rodney had fallen silent, which wasn't such a feat when it was Ronon who had done the silencing.

"Why was John bowing?" Elizabeth finally got up the nerve to ask. It was a tentative question, as though speaking might set something off that would end unpleasantly.

"He was hallucinating," Teyla replied, still pale with minor shock. "He believed Ronon was a wraith and I... someone named Anja. He was trying to protect her..."

"By offering himself up to the not-wraith over there," Rodney's voice cracked, his thumb jerking in Ronon's direction. "And when he thought that wasn't going to work, he dropped to his knees and worshiped like a good little whipped colonel."

"McKay!" Ronon snarled. Carson was starting to reconsider his decision not to call Kate in. A buffer would be needed if the three team members didn't relax. And it just felt plain off that Ronon was being the most sensitive about it. Okay, so they all were in their own way, but Ronon at a level Carson had only ever seen when the Satedan had been brought back from his home world, beaten but alive.

Actually, it made a wee bit of sense. Sheppard had thought he was a wraith. He had offered himself to Ronon thinking that. He had bowed to the not-wraith, begging on hands and knees, thinking that. Delusional or not, it had to make for one bloody touchy issue, possibly the equivalent of Ronon having beaten John senseless for no reason.

Carson removed his stethoscope and had the two nurses hold John in place so he could carefully probe the protruding ribs. He already knew the location of the healing breaks and how far along they were. As expected, two ribs that had been previously cracked gave way to Carson's careful pressure. He'd suspected as much. He helped the nurses move Sheppard carefully to check for any more fresh bruises, indicating possible breaks or cracks. So far, it seemed the two ribs were the only problem.

"Look," McKay said after a moment. "It's just... I mean... Isn't this a bad thing? Bowing? Sheppard wouldn't bow."

"He would to save someone else," Ronon stated.

"You are worrying over nothing, McKay," said Teyla sensibly, albeit in a rather stressed tone that begged Rodney to just drop it already.

It wasn't about the show of obeisance. Carson didn't need Kate here to tell him as much. What he had heard was plenty: bowing, weeping, crying, and, above all, offering himself to be fed on. It probably only lasted minutes, yet felt too long. They had peeked into a rather disturbing glimpse of Sheppard's time on the hive ship. Carson was only hearing about it in bits and pieces, but enough to feel disturbed himself. He couldn't imagine what the other three had actually seen.

Sheppard widening the collar of the scrub, maybe even lifting it to his collar-bones, leaving his chest open for the taking made Carson shudder imperceptibly. Had the colonel been scared or resigned?

The real fact was - this was Sheppard they were talking about. He just didn't do the things the others were describing-- exempting the saving-someone-else part. It was easy to forget the frailty that was being human, because some humans had a way of making it easy to forget that. Ronon, for example, and also John. They mouth off, make some witty but asinine retort, or just lash out with fists – now that Carson could imagine. What he didn't want to imagine was what it had taken to make John beg and shed tears at the same time.

Carson finally had the nurses help him settle John on his back. He lowered the scrub shirt and made sure the oxygen was in place firmly but comfortably. "I've got the lad settled," he announced. "So no sense for the lot of you to be hanging around here."

"Will he be all right?" Rodney stammered.

Carson sighed. He hated this part since he usually didn't have a definitive answer. "He has a fever of 102 that if it stays put – or better yet starts going down – he should be fine. The congestion's a little thicker and he managed to turn two cracked ribs into two broken ribs. Hopefully, only because he had a bit of a bad spill, am I right?" He gave them pointed looks, Ronon especially. He would never suspect in a million years that they would hurt Sheppard intentionally. Accidents, however, happened, especially when it came to trying to calm a delirious soldier.

"Probably when he passed out," Ronon supplied. "He fell on his side."

"And you said so yourself that his bones are about as strong as dried twigs," Rodney said. "But even that shouldn't have happened. He was being too damn docile for any kind of injury to be the result. He fell sideways, while on his knees, to the freakin floor!"

Carson raised both his hands, patting the air. "Rodney, you need to settle down. That's just what comes with having poor bone mass, and it's being rectified."

"Good to know. Now, how the hell did he get out in the first place? I thought there were guards at the door!" McKay shrilled.

Again, Carson sighed. It was minutely easier forcing patience this time around. McKay was tired, wired, unable to process, and needing to speak with John, one on one, in order to do so. Except he wouldn't be able to until Sheppard's fever abated. "There were guards, Rodney, at the infirmary entrance. But, believe it or not, Sheppard managed to find the back door. Yes, the infirmary has a back door; we just never use it. I'm thinking Sheppard passed it, it opened, so he literally took the road less traveled. Oh, and before you start in on my night staff, I didn't tell them to keep a direct eye on the colonel, just to check him more often. Even sick, the bugger moves stealthy and quick. But we have him back and settled, and I've assigned someone to keep a permanent eye on him. Plus, we now have the back exit locked. So you've no need to fret. I want the lot of you back in bed and asleep for the rest of the night. I'll prescribe you a mild sedative if I have to since I know it won't be easy, but I'd at least like you to try. Sheppard's safe thanks to you; so you've no need to keep worrying about him. And I'd better not catch you at his bed side in the morning, you hear me?"

The three team members reluctantly nodded. Carson nodded back. "Good, now off with you."

They left with a lot of hesitating and many backwards glances at Sheppard sleeping. Although it took a little longer than it probably should have, the three eventually left. Elizabeth moved over to Carson, looking from the departing team to John, then to Beckett. Neither one said anything. Nothing to say except the redundant and Carson was sure Elizabeth didn't have the energy for redundancy, either. Like him, she hadn't had to witness what the others had seen to understand the reason behind what outsiders might perceive as "overreacting". Maybe it was overreacting, maybe it wasn't. For the sake of the city and earth, it was better to overreact than go complacent. For John's sake, they would need to keep the overreacting internal.

TBC...