Sheppard picked himself slowly up and stared at Kavanagh in disbelief. Kavanagh stared back at him, his eyes glazed and feral, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"You...hit me." Sheppard's voice was not quite convinced.

"Not my fault." It wasn't speech, it was a growl, a sob and a moan all mixed together. Sheppard leaned over the bed, not breaking eye contact. The bed squeaked faintly as he put his weight on his fingertips, catlike, and eased himself toward Kavanagh.

"Notmyfault!" Kavanagh edged back on the bed.

"Hey! You were kids, all right? Accidents happen. Anyway...not for me to say."

Kavanagh moved, ducking under Sheppard's hasty grab and diving toward the floor.

"Kavanagh!" Sheppard plunged after him. There was a brief, brutal struggle, Kavanagh fighting tooth and nail and Sheppard giving as good as he got. He knew there would be bruises, but he didn't care. Sheppard shifted his grip, surprising Kavanagh and spinning him around. Get him from the back--one wrist, two--force them down, pinning his arms against his body...

Sheppard swore as Kavanagh wrenched a fist loose and landed a glancing blow. He grabbed the wrist again, his fingers biting into skin and muscle, and jerked it back.

"Damn it, Kavanagh! Quit being a prick and let me help you!"

The fists clenched harder. Sheppard could feel Kavanagh's heart exploding, hammering against his ribs where his body was jammed against Sheppard's arms. He tightened his grip and heard Kavanagh snarl with pain and frustration, but the fists didn't relax.

"Why won't you say it? Why? You think it was my fault too, don't you?"

"I don't know! I don't fucking know, all right?" Sheppard gave him a none-too-gentle shake. He went suddenly limp. Sheppard gripped him as he slumped and pulled him in, gathering him against his chest. The tension in Kavanagh's muscles turned to violent tremors as he gave up, his rib cage heaving. Sheppard gave him another short shake.

"Hey. Hey. Calm down. Calm. Down."

It came out in one quivering, hushed breath, Kavanagh's mouth muffled against Sheppard's shirt.

"Oh God, maybe it was. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I did that to Jamie. Oh God. Maybe--"

Sheppard cut him off with a wordless sound and clamped Kavanagh's head to his chest, covering his ear. He couldn't remember where he had picked up that bit of advice, but it seemed to work. Kavanagh closed his eyes and lay there, panting.

Sheppard kept his arms wrapped around him until his breathing started to slow. For several more minutes Kavanagh was completely still except for the movement of his chest and the spasms of his muscles. Finally he moved a little, glancing up at him, and Sheppard let him up. He swallowed and gestured wordlessly at a box of tissue on the nightstand. Sheppard reached over and handed him one.

Kavanagh blew his nose and looked down at the bed.

"Sorry about your face." It was barely more than a whisper.

Sheppard shrugged dismissively.

"I've had worse."

Minutes passed. Sheppard waited patiently while Kavanagh sat, gathering the shreds of his dignity. He felt a tug behind his breastbone when Kavanagh's breath quickened again. Kavanagh leaned forward, his body rocking a little, his mouth clamped shut. Sheppard glanced at his knuckles, white and strained where he was clutching his own elbows. He cleared his throat.

"You all right?"

For a minute Kavanagh didn't respond. Sheppard was about to touch him when he moved, rocking again. He scrubbed a hand across his face and turned his head toward Sheppard but didn't look up.

"My head hurts. It really, really hurts."

"Yeah. Mine too."

Kavanagh darted a quick, apologetic look upwards and pressed his lips together, rolling them inward and biting the bottom lip as he let them roll back out.

"I think...I think I need to talk...to somebody. About things."

"Yeah. Not going to say "I told you so" or anything. But yeah. Hey, on the bright side, I think we've found that belief Hermy was talking about. The one that's still messing with your head."

Kavanagh licked his lips.

"I told you, I need to go home. I can find a--a shrink there."

"That what you want?"

Kavanagh shrugged, his shoulders slumping. He drew a long, shuddering breath.

"I don't see any other options. Not since Dr. Heightmeyer's gone."

"Hey."

Kavanagh looked up.

"I know you don't think much of me as a shrink, but I just took a hit to the chin. That's got to count for something. I mean, how many shrinks would do that? You know, you do that back home, you're gonna get locked up. Padded cell and throw away the key, pal."

Kavanagh gave him a long look and laughed, a hard little laugh that pulled one corner of his mouth into a sneer. Sheppard crossed his arms.

"What the hell was that?"

Kavanagh pressed his lips together mutinously, hanging his head. After a second or two of silence he stole a glance upward. Sheppard kept the expectant and not particularly pleased expression on his face. Kavanagh swallowed and shrugged again, slowly, his shoulders creeping up toward his ears.

"You really mean...you'd...?"

"I said I would before, didn't I?"

"Well...yes...but now you know there's no reason you have to...I mean... you did get that letter I wrote, right?"

Sheppard didn't answer, just looked at him.

"Oh...you got it..." Kavanagh's voice was very small.

Sheppard still said nothing. Kavanagh reached up and rubbed at the corner of his eye.

"Um...it doesn't have to be right now, does it? I, uh...I don't think I'm up to it right now."

Sheppard let him squirm for a minute, then looked down.

"Later's fine. But I'm holding you to it. And no trying to skip out on me."

Kavanagh gave him a one-sided smile that didn't hide the bewilderment in his eyes.

"I--I still don't--I mean, why would you--"

"Look, Kavanagh."

Kavanagh closed his mouth with a snap and looked.

"I'm not really sure why myself, ok? Let's just drop that one. You know what they say: some things are better left unsaid."

Kavanagh looked down, the smile tugging at the other corner of his mouth.

"Do they say that?"

Sheppard frowned. Seeing the emotions flicker across Kavanagh's exhausted face felt a bit like looking at a bombed-out jumper, its wiring in shambles, electricity darting and leaping through the mess of mangled, snapped cables. It gave him the same queasy feeling.

"Yeah. Yeah they do."

Kavanagh said nothing, just kept on smiling, awkwardly, his lips quivering as the smile fought with tears waiting to be let out. Sheppard cleared his throat and stood.

"It's late. I'm going to head back. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone and I won't have you locked up. Fair enough?"

Kavanagh looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. The smile faded suddenly.

Sheppard steeled himself and met the look without flinching. His lips parted a little and he took a quick, quiet breath, but he didn't look down, knowing suddenly that if he broke eye contact in that second, the trust would vanish. And there wouldn't be a second chance. This was it.

Kavanagh's eyes searched his, looking for what they had seen there so many times before, what they had seen on faces day after day since coming to Atlantis, until it started to feel more normal than the rare flashes of kindness he encountered. Sheppard saw him shake his head slightly as he searched again, not quite believing it. Sheppard lifted his chin a little, then let it drop. He'd never admit it but the whole situation had affected him almost as much as it had Kavanagh.

Kavanagh's eyes stopped their searching, abruptly. He looked down and blinked hard, his eyes moving over the bedspread.

Kavanagh's face was blank when he looked up and his eyes were drained of expression, but the suspicion was gone. The blue eyes seemed oddly lost and empty without it. Sheppard grimaced and looked down, scuffing at the floor with one foot. After a second or two he looked back up and raised one eyebrow.

"Deal?"

Kavanagh's eyes were fixed on his as if he were the only thing in the universe.

"All right, Colonel Sheppard."

Sheppard nodded shortly. The look on Kavanagh's face told him he could have told Kavanagh to walk off a cliff and gotten the same unquestioning response. He glanced at Kavanagh one more time and turned, shoving his hands in his pockets as he started for the door.

A foot or so from the door he paused. He wasn't sure himself why he said it, his sympathy reserves were drained, his nerves ragged, his very being aching to hit something or shoot something, but it slipped out. Maybe it was the complete lack of resistance in Kavanagh's last sentence, or the image of his face, suddenly defenceless, the walls torn down by something other than fear or horror.

"Ah, you can...you can call me John, if you want. Seeing as we're, uh...going to be talking more..."

The part of him that wanted to scream and shoot things took over at that point and he ducked out without even looking at Kavanagh. Something inside him throbbed, and Sheppard winced. It was a warm throb. A fuzzy throb.

"Damn, I need to find Ronon. Or Teyla."