Title: Adapting

Chatper: Vision

Author: Gypsy Lupin-Black

A/N: Same as always, review please!

Rodney woke up sweating and shaking. His eyes burned. His arms and legs burned. His head pounded in time with his rapid heartbeat. Salivating, nearly nauseous, he swallowed convulsively. What was going on? And why was he on the hard floor?

Groaning, he tried to sit up, but the world slid sideways and he felt his stomach threaten to heave. Eyes closed, he laid back and tried to focus past his body. Focus on the sound of the waves, the heat and light of the sun…

Light?

Rodney's eyes snapped open, and he instantly wished that they hadn't. Bright light flooded his eyes, smashing into his brain like a truck. He moaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

This was like the worst hangover he'd ever had. He could see, and it HURT. God, why did he hurt so bad? And where the hell was he, anyway? Cautiously he turned his head and squinted. Everything was blurry, and so very bright. Far way, he could make out the familiar shape of Atlantis' spires. The ocean lapped at the side of the city, and it sounded quite close, but he didn't dare turn his head again to see.

Focus on one question at a time, he told himself. Ho had he gotten out on one of the piers? He tried to remember what had happened. He remembered leaving the infirmary after the fourth day of injections. He went back to the labs to check how Radek was getting along with the shield. He'd talked to John in the corridor outside Ops. Was that before or after he took the pain medication for his headache? No, he'd left the labs because of the migraine, taken meds, and then went to Ops to see if there had been any sign of the entity. He'd met Teyla, Ronon, and John for dinner. He'd gone to his quarters instead of back to the labs. He remembered being exhausted.

He also distinctly remembered falling asleep in his bed. He had no recollection at all of how he'd gotten from there to here.

Why could he suddenly see? He'd gone to sleep still unable to see at all without the echolocator. Shouldn't a return to vision be gradual? Granted, he was pretty nearsighted at the moment, but he could still SEE.

He tried to move again. The burning sensation had receded, and though his arms and legs felt unnaturally heavy, he could move them. But could he sit up or stand? The nausea had gone down a little, but he still felt off. Groaning again, he rolled onto his side and slowly sat up.

The world titled again, and it felt like his skull was sliding sideways, going at a different speed than the rest of his head. Concussion? How?

"It was in you," a voice said from behind him. It sounded like Henning. Rodney tried to turn and look at him, but suddenly pain blossomed behind his eyes.

Hands clamped on either side of his head, fingers pressing on his cheeks, thumbs just behind his ears. Still behind him, Henning spoke again, "maybe it still is." He sounded thoughtful, but Rodney as more worried about how hard the hands were squeezing his head.

"I'm surprised it worked, actually." Henning continued, "I was just playing a hunch, and, after all, I don't have much experience with ghosts and spirits."

"Please," Rodney whispered. "Please let go."

"You ran last night, when you saw me watching you. Led me on a merry chase, before you dived off a balcony and drug yourself way out her."

Rodney could hear himself whimpering. He squirmed, but the hands only pressed harder.

"Everyone was worrying about how to track the entity, when they should have been wondering where it was going to roost when they couldn't see it."

"Me?" Rodney croaked, suddenly angry. "How did you figure that one out, Sherlock?" He realized that his hands had come up to grab Henning's wrists at some point. He was struggling, hard, but it wasn't him.

Henning didn't answer him. Rodney tried to stop struggling, tried to let go of Henning's wrists, to show he wasn't going to run or fight. His body didn't respond. If anything, he stared flailing even harder.

"A security team will be here shortly, and you will come with us. It's almost time for your daily medication at all." Henning sounded smug. "Now that you're trapped, maybe we can find out the whole story."

Rodney opened his mouth to plead, to beg that Henning let go of him. Instead of words, the sound that came out of Rodney's mough froze him to the bone.

Whispering, hissing. Incredibly loud. Furious.