oOo

There is something about industrial-strength pain medication that detaches you, very necessarily, from the here and now.

Harry's refuge from the reality of serious pain, was a tranquil but lonely place. He felt very still, very calm... his body had deserted him, and so his thoughts turned inward, as if he lived only within himself and the rest of his waking life had been a dream.

For a time he drifted like this, with no thought to what had happened or what was happening now.

Then, his mind seemed to re-boot, find its rhythm again... and images appeared.

He saw men lying dead... his men.

He saw his hands tied above him, motionless, and beyond them the open sky.

He looked down and saw his own feet shuffling along a path that was rough and wound through dank woodland.

He saw the colonel, head tipped down, his eyes hooded; concentration and worry on his face as his hands moved, busy with something Harry couldn't see.

He remembered a long walk, full of pain and confusion; McKay's face... and a question:

"Where's Sheppard?"

The urgency of this question, had further ones growing in his mind. Why was the colonel not with him? Where was he now? What had happened?

This was ultimately enough to force him over the edge, and he struggled his way back to consciousness, leaving the sweet comfort of pain-meds far behind him.

An immediate assault on his senses had him gasping, as his head threatened to explode; there was a beeping, then a whining... the smell of the infirmary and clean sheets from the dryer... footsteps and quiet words.

"It's Major Phillips - he's awake"

"About time too. We cut back the big guns - what, half an hour ago?"

"Yes, Doctor"

His hands felt cool cotton, rough blankets. But they were immobile, tied down and useless for anything more than scratting at the bed covers, which was exactly what he was doing.

"Wha - wh - wha - ", he tried to begin, but the marshmallow that was his brain seemed to prevent the function of his lips. They wobbled and he came out with strange cave man sounds instead.

"Quietly now, Major, try and be still...", said a woman's voice near his feet.

Slowly, as his senses returned, he began to realise he was largely unable to move; his neck and shoulders felt clamped to the bed.

Added to that, both arms felt leaden, effectively meaning he was capable of no movement above the waist.

Startled and anxious, his eyes fluttered open. Above him, there was a smooth ceiling and to one side an IV stand. His eyes roamed as far as they could go in all directions - an ill-advised activity that left him nauseous and dizzy - but his neck and head would not follow. A vague discomfort permeated his whole upper body.

Then he saw Beckett leaning into his static little world; a smile was on his face.

"Don't struggle, lad. We have ye in a neck brace amongst other things ", said the doctor.

"How's the head?", he asked, and shone a piercing white light into Harry's eye.

"That... n-not helping.. ", stammered Harry. Oh, yeah, still with the cave man speak...

"Okay, major. You're doin' well... a few broken bones, a wee bit o' surgery and a bump on the head. I'm giving you somethin' for that headache now..."

An image of Dr Zelenka, blood-stained and disoriented, came suddenly into his fuddled head.

"Radek...?", he panted, hoping it would be enough.

There was a small pause that concerned him a little, then Beckett was smoothly answering, "Everyone here is as well as can be expected, and you are not to worry, major - I mean it"

A wave of coolness was already streaming up his right arm, somehow reaching his thumping head. Pain faded, leaving in its place a warm fog... it was bliss.

"Better?", asked Beckett, and it was easy to hear the gentle smile in that question.

Harry felt himself smile also, and was just about to reply in the affirmative, when all the rest came back to him...

The colonel was missing...

Someone had left him behind..

That someone, was Harry Phillips, and this was the thought that accompanied him into restless and reluctant sleep.

oOo

"Okay... Dr Biro, are y-"

"I'm on it, sir"

Voices... raised voices, boots running and the clatter of wheels on the floor... waking was an uncomfortable process. For the first time he detected tubes that were in... places. He grimaced.

"Is the OR ready? Get me BP's on both... now. "

Urgent voices were now coming at him from all around the room... and he could see people... mostly medics. At his left he saw the back of Dr Biro's head; she was busy with something or someone.

But the main action came from some way past his twitching toes. Many paths diverged in that direction. Damn this neck thing, he thought irritably, I need to see...

He tried to say something, but, obviously, no one was concerned with him at that point, so he elected to save his strength and just listen for the time being.

"Rodney!?"

Blasted into his left ear.

"Not now, colonel... "

That was Biro's reply... she was hanging a bag on a hook, tubes dangling. A nurse was using scissors - he could hear the snip snip and the sound of tough fabric.

But, thank God, it was the colonel; he was here, not lost anymore... not left behind.

"That's not enough... I need at least three. Call in a donor if you have to."

Beckett's voice now. Three? Three what? Three units of blood, of course... but for who? His ears strained, his neck muscles strained, paining him, but he wanted to see. The raw smell of blood wafted across to his nostrils.

"Get the major moved, Hollie - in with the doctor, it's like a circus in here... Ronon.. Teyla... Lorne... if there's nothin' wrong with ye then go, we need the room"

"We're ready, Dr Beckett..."

This call came from way over... somewhere that way, on the IV side of him... there.

He tensed his neck muscles and then, frustrated and angry at his helplessness, he twisted his shoulders convulsively..

shit... oh.. oh-oh.. oh shit..

He made a sound not unlike a sob; whatever the Faithful had broken or otherwise damaged, felt as if it was re-broken or damaged again. He panted softly, stars bursting behind tightly closed eye-lids.

He opened them and stifled a squeak; a face hung above his, inches from his nose. He knew this nurse, had seen her before...

"What did you do?", she asked quickly, eyes searching.

But she didn't wait for him to gather himself together in order to reply, she just kicked at the wheels of his bed and swung him around in a wide and sickening arc... he was on the move.

"Dr Biro, I think the major may have destabilised his fractures - shall I scan him?"

There was a loud tutting and a sigh... Biro's face appeared for a moment; she looked exasperated, like a schoolmistress confronted with a naughty child. She rolled her eyes, theatrically,

"That's all we need... yes, yes, go... and keep me posted"

As he was wheeled off, Harry felt suitably ashamed.

oOo

Well, at least now he could see; course, there was nothing to see now.

He was in a quiet corner of one of the smaller infirmary rooms... next to a linen closet.

Opposite him, beside the door, was a deeply unconscious Radek Zelenka.

It looked like the scientist was having a quiet nap; his head on a pillow, no great swathes of bandage to be seen - only a small band-aid behind his right ear. Hands laying quietly on the coverlet, his chest rising and falling gently.

But he had been this way ever since, back on the alien planet, Harry had watched him, scalpel still in hand, slide sideways, out like a light against a supply crate. How long ago that was... he was unsure.

The nurse who'd tended to his... neck emergency, told him the doctor was indeed suffering from a swelling of the brain, as they had suspected. They had given him medication, and now the rest was up to him.

Harry re-settled himself gingerly against the pillows behind him. Thankfully, the scanner revealed no new damage. The nurse had made adjustments and provided extra pillows so that he could be more upright.

The neck brace and accompanying splints or whatever they were, stabilised the fractures he'd sustained.

One was in his left arm, close to the elbow. That had been open - a real mess - and had needed surgery and the insertion of some hardware. Another in his right wrist, was a simple break, and was encased in a bright yellow plaster cast. Worst of all though was his fractured collar bone; broken in two places, pinned and God knew what else, it was required to be absolutely immobile, hence his 'neck contraption'.

Harry moved his hips sideways, trying to make himself more comfortable. It was, frankly, exhausting to be sitting up, and he was beginning to wish he'd stayed where he was. The drip in his hand irritated and he was still weak as a kitten when it came to trying to raise his arms. The room was overly hot, in his opinion, and the lovely gown he was dressed in, stuck to his back and itched.

No news had come about the two other patients. He knew now that it had been Dr McKay who'd been taken into emergency surgery by Beckett; that he was the one needing the blood.

He knew nothing at all of Colonel Sheppard's injuries.

He considered the call button next to his right hand... but, no, they were busy, and anyway someone would be in soon to check on Radek and himself.

Until then he'd just have to wait.

oOo

TBC and thanks for reading.

Special thanks to you wonderful reviewers, I really appreciate the time you take. x

P.S. Many apologies for medical inaccuracies...!