Saving John Sheppard's life was not the miracle cure they'd all been hoping for. He didn't sit up in bed, throw off his IVs and pull the ventilator tubing out of his throat and proclaim himself perfectly fine. The strange device that had somehow allowed Rodney and Carrie into his head and then helped to pull him back out if it again had not healed him completely. But it had given John the strength to keep fighting, and just enough edge to come back to life and prove all of his doctors wrong.

Rodney stood in the doorway of John's new room and watched him sleep. The ventilator and most of the equipment was gone now, but there was no denying the man in that bed was still very ill. John was breathing on his own and his bullet wounds were healing at an unprecedented rate, but he still had a very long road ahead of him. His knee was a mess for starters and Rodney could see the hardware of an external fixator just beneath John's infirmary blankets.

There was one good thing that had come out of all this, though. There wasn't a trace of infection left anywhere in John's body. It was as if his very cells had been run through a filter of some kind and all the impurities had been removed. Rodney was just itching to borrow one of John's blood samples from the lab and begin trying to figure out what exactly saved his life. The scientist part of himself that wanted to study and to quantify suggested there was a logical explanation for all of it. The part of himself that could remember John dying in his arms had a different theory. Magic, love, the power of Atlantis, whatever you wanted to call it, had been the true hero of their story.

Since coming back from the dead, John had only woken up once, and that had been days ago. Rodney had caught the blue of his eyes just long enough for John to start fighting against the ventilator tubing in his throat and to make sure they all knew he was still very much alive. Rodney wished he would wake up now. Not only did he want to hear his friend's voice, but he was interested to find out if John remembered anything that happened inside his head, or if it was fading from memory like it was for him and Carrie. He could remember the big things, like John stilling in his arms and then the flash of white light and surge of energy that had brought them out of it all, but everything else was fuzzy around the edges. As if someone had gone in and scooped the very memories from his brain. Knowing Atlantis, maybe she had.

Rodney pulled his eyes away from John's pale face and settled them in on Carrie Sinclair. She was sleeping as well. Whatever had happened to them all in that place had drained them. Rodney's theory about his ATA gene had been correct. He could no longer activate anything in Atlantis and the city was quiet around him. He imagined Carson's gene therapy work would remedy that eventually, but for now, he had to admit, he was missing it. Now he could remember how difficult it was to get around in the city without it. But more than that, he missed the connection. That sense of being a part of something greater than himself. A small piece for sure, but vital in the grand scheme of things.

Rodney was also a little jealous. Carrie still had full use of her ATA gene. Whatever that device had done to her, it definitely had not taken that power away from her. Lights still came on when she walked into rooms and Rodney had a feeling she could pilot a puddle jumper up to the moon if they let her.

Carrie spent a lot of time sleeping at John's bedside. Everyone let her because, as Rodney also suspected, they could sense that all of this might have been a bit too much for her. Landry had given her a brief rundown of Atlantis only four days ago, and now she'd just been involved in one of the strangest experiences anyone had ever had in the city to date. It was enough to make any one of the expedition members haul off and quit. Carrie was brand new so Rodney could just imagine how strange and difficult all this was for her. If she decided not to stick around after, even with the possibilities her ATA gene opened up for her, Rodney couldn't hold it against her.

Walking into the room, Rodney sat himself down into one of the empty chairs on the other side of John's bed. Carrie continued to sleep on in hers on the opposite side. Rodney felt his own exhaustion creep up on him, but he doubted his mind would give him much rest if he tried to sleep now. At least not until John woke up again. While Rodney could no longer remember the specifics of what had been said in John's dream, he could still feel the effects. He wanted to crawl into that bed beside John and never leave, like Carrie had been able to do that night in the infirmary. He wanted to go back in time to that exact moment he looked up and realized he was falling for the wry leader of his team with the cocky smile and wild hair. That had been mere days before the Wraith. Another what-if moment he left amongst the stars.

John shifted under his sheets, his heart monitor giving an errant squawk as his pulse quickened as he dreamed. Rodney leaned forward in his chair, praying this would be the moment that John would wake up for good. But Sheppard just settled back into quiet as his heart rate evened out.

When Rodney sat back, he realized the slight commotion had woken Carrie.

"Has there been any change?" she asked around a wide yawn.

"I was about to ask you the exact same thing," he replied. "I just got here."

"Oh," she said. "Well, the nurse was just by to take his vitals and said everything is still looking good. He's just not awake yet."

Rodney nodded as he reached in through the rails of John's bed and touched one of his hands. It was warm, but not impossibly so anymore. Most of the bruises had faded from his face and the stitches had been removed from the cut on his forehead. The minor injuries were clearing up quickly. Whatever was happening in his body at the moment was just taking a little more time on the big things.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Still tired. That whole thing really took a lot out of me." Carrie stopped mid-stretch to look over at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad," he replied. It was partly true, but that conversation was not one he was interested in having with Carrie Sinclair at the moment. He would talk everything over with Carson once he felt up to talking about it at all. He liked John's friend from Blue River well enough, but she wasn't family. Not yet, at least.

Speaking of Carson, Rodney figured his old friend was probably in physical therapy at the moment. That fall down the conference room stairs hadn't done him any favors and he'd pushed himself too hard during John's ordeal. Now that their friend was on the mend, Carson could finally take the time to focus on his own healing. He wasn't making that easy on his staff, of course, epitomizing the cliche that doctors made for terrible patients. Rodney knew Carson was throwing himself into PT now because there was nothing much else he could do. John was stable and healing, but there was nothing Carson, or any of them for that matter, could do about the fact that John had yet to wake up.

"Dr. Roth did tell me they don't expect he'll have to have another surgery on his knee, so that's good," Carrie said almost as if she was taking his silence for despair.

Rodney smiled over at her. "It's about time they gave us some good news."

"That's what I said. Especially after what happened…" she trailed off as she picked at some unseen piece of lint on her jeans. "Do you remember any of it?"

Rodney sighed. "Some of it, but a lot of it faded away pretty fast."

"Same for me," she said before looking up again. "You don't think there's anything wrong with me, do you?"

Rodney was taken aback for a moment, "What do you mean?"

"I don't remember anything about that device I supposedly used. And that woman on the balcony told me it would change me forever."

Rodney considered what Carrie was telling him for a moment. "I could run some tests, if you'd like. Make sure everything looks normal."

"Would you?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course. All I want to know is who is this woman you keep talking about?"

"Do you have a photo of your old team on you by any chance?" she asked.

Rodney was confused but nodded. He always carried it with him, too. It was a copy of a photo John always kept in his bunk back on Atlantis. Rodney had swiped it one day to scan it and he'd printed it off again soon after John disappeared. He reached over the bed to hand it to Carrie.

"I thought so," she said after a few seconds. "She kept asking me to tell 'him' that she loved her. I just always assumed she was talking about John. But it occurred to me the other day when I was talking to TJ out in the hall that John perhaps wasn't the 'him' she was referring to."

Rodney raised an eyebrow.

"I believe you all said her name was Teyla," she replied, handing the photo back to Rodney. "She was the one who came to visit me in the tower and told me where to find the lab with the device that could help John.

Rodney looked down at the photo in his hands, over the faded faces of his long-dead friends. "You saw her?"

"I don't know if it was her or just the form the city used to try and communicate with me, but she sure didn't act like the manifestation of an alien city to me."

Rodney wasn't sure how to feel. The idea that Teyla had come back from the grave to help them both cheered him and worried him all at the same time. Ghosts didn't exactly fit into the scientific order of things.

"Can I ask you a personal question, Rodney?" Carrie said.

"Uh… sure."

"Is TJ yours?"

"In every way that matters, he is," Rodney replied and Carrie's face told him she understood exactly what he meant.

"He's lucky to have you," she said a moment later. "They both are."

Hours later when Rodney was finally alone with John in his room, the moment they'd all been waiting for finally arrived.

It was dusk. Someone had already been in to turn up the lights slightly and close the western facing window blinds against the intense sunlight that beat down on them every evening. It happened at the same time every day like clockwork. The light would start at the top of the window and slowly make its way down, painting yellow and black slats on the opposite wall and blinding anyone who had the misfortune of coming through the door as it was happening.

But there would be no sunshine today. An uncharacteristic change in the weather had storm clouds gathering in the sky over the San Francisco bay. Rain lashed against the windows and every so often a flash of lightning would illuminate the window, followed by a rumble of thunder.

Rodney and TJ had always enjoyed thunderstorms. His son had been afraid of them at first, but once Rodney had given him a game to play with the storm, that fear had gone away. They would wait for a flash of lightning and then count the seconds until the accompanying thunder. After that they would calculate how far away the storm was. To this day Rodney often found himself counting during thunderstorms, and suspected his son still did the same.

Rodney hadn't seen much of TJ the past few days. The kid seemed wary of visiting John's room. Rodney suspected it had something to do with guilt. There had to have been a moment when his young son realized John was likely going to die and his hopes of heading back to Pegasus would be dashed. It would only be natural for him to feel some anger and resentment towards John for that. He was the easiest target, and the one least likely to fight back. TJ had probably said or thought some things that he wasn't proud of and was now skulking and hiding because of it. Rodney would have a talk with him later, but for now he was appreciative of his time alone with John.

Rodney was just coming back from the washroom when it happened. He'd opened the door to John's room and had seen his friend shifting restlessly on his bed again. He was back in his chair now, coaxing John back to the land of the living with soft words.

"Come on, John. That's it. Just open your eyes."

"R-Rodney?"

Rodney's head fell forward in relief as he drank in the sound of John's voice. It was barely louder than a whisper, and hoarse as hell, but it was there.

"Welcome back, you idiot."

John's bloodshot eyes raced around the room as he blinked them several times as if trying to get them to focus.

"You're in the infirmary. Atlantis, not SGC."

John seemed to think on that for a moment. His own past experiences reminded Rodney that waking up from being intubated for a week and on oxygen tended to make one extremely thirsty after waking up. He found the styrofoam cup of ice water the nurses kept replacing with new ones every few hours on one of the tables in the room and brought it back over to John.

"Go slow," he warned gently as John started to pull at the water greedily. His lips were badly chapped and the nasal cannula had left the skin near his nose and upper lip raw and cracked. It couldn't have been comfortable.

"I'll just leave this right here. You tell me if you need more." He placed the cup on the nightstand, John's eyes never leaving him.

"How long?"

"About a week." Rodney braced for the next question he knew was coming.

"What happened."

Rodney sighed, wondering how in the world he was supposed to explain all this to John when he hardly understood it himself. He decided the beginning was as good a place as any.

"Sean Fitzpatrick shot you four times in the chest by the time we rescued you," he began.

"Carrie?" John forced out, no voice left to make it anything other than a whisper, even with the water.

"She's fine, Sheppard. In fact, she'll be back any minute now."

John seemed to take comfort in this and settled a little further down under his blankets. Rodney took him through what happened next as well as he could. He decided to tell John everything, knowing there was a very real chance the man would fall back asleep any second and not remember any of it. He finished with the infirmary light show and John's miraculous, albeit still ongoing, recovery. John somehow managed to stay conscious through all of it. Rodney figured he should probably let everyone know that John was awake, but he held back. He wanted John to himself, if only for a little while.

"How bad?" John asked after Rodney had finished.

"Your gunshot wounds, all the damage they did to your insides, and your knee. They expect you're going to make a full recovery, but it's going to take some time."

Just how much time was beginning to worry Rodney. If it was too long, the IOA might pull the plug on the expedition and move John off Atlantis to recuperate. Rodney was fine with that if it meant John got the best treatment and made the quickest recovery, but it would be a damn shame.

Rodney could tell that John had just about reached the end of whatever energy reserve he'd tapped to stay awake. He watched as his slightly bruised eyes slipped closed again and again as Sheppard fought sleep. Rodney rubbed his thumb over the back of John's hand in reassuring circles. "It's ok, my friend. You can rest now. We'll all still be here when you wake up."

John had just slipped back under when the door to his room opened again.

"What's happened?" Carson asked, immediately picking up on the change in Rodney's mood.

"He woke up."

Carson's broken arm was in a sling otherwise Rodney was pretty sure he would have tried to clap his hands in his excitement. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear that, laddie."

Carson could have admonished Rodney for not coming to get them all immediately, but he didn't and Rodney was thankful.

"I passed Ms. Sinclair and young TJ on their way down to the cafeteria. Have you told them yet?"

"You're the first."

"I see," Carson said, settling into the chair Carrie had been occupying a while ago.

"She asked me if we could take some samples and try to figure out what happened and if there will be any side effects," Rodney told Carson. They'd had a conversation about asking her themselves the other day after Rodney and Carrie had emerged from John's… whatever that was.

"Oh good. I was not particularly looking forward to that conversation. 'Forgive me lass, but might I borrow a pint of your blood to test it for traces of the Ancient gene.' Poor girl has been through enough."

"I'll be interested to see if that device she used altered her DNA in any way," Rodney said, but Carson seemed to pick up on the fact he was referring to himself in that statement as well. He wasn't really worried, but the lack of connection to Atlantis was disconcerting and he really wanted to know just what kind of transfer happened and how it worked. Or why it had helped heal John. The fact he could barely remember a quarter of what happened was also giving him pause.

"Aye laddie," Carson replied. "The same goes for me."

Rodney glanced over at John. He was sleeping deeply. Not even his pupils were moving beneath his lids this time. "Do you ever think he'll fully recover?"

"Physically?" Carson asked, scratching at his chin, "100%, though that knee of his will likely bother him for the rest of his life now. Mentally, well now that I cannot say."

"He deserves to stay on Atlantis."

"Aye, laddie, do not worry yourself about that. I've already been putting that idea in the right people's ear. I've managed to convince them that he'll only get better if he's here. And if they want Atlantis to ever get to Pegasus again, they better bloody well let him stay."

"That's brilliant, Carson!" Rodney exclaimed, kind of miffed he hadn't thought of it himself.

"It happens from time to time," Carson laughed. "Does this perhaps mean you're changing your opinions on those involved in the medical field?" Carson was side-eyeing him with amusement.

"Don't push your luck," Rodney fired back.

Carson let out a laugh. Right after hearing John's voice a moment ago, it was the best sound Rodney had heard all day.