Chapter Three

Losing My Mind
Someone was pounding on my door. I rolled over, trying to get up without knocking my blanket and pillow to the floor, but did it anyway. I staggered to my feet, and crossed to the panel, opening the door. The thin silver slid open to reveal Elizabeth standing in my doorway.

I had been slouching, wearing nothing but a pair of trousers, and not altogether thrilled at talking to anyone, but at the sight of the illustrious Doctor, I straightened, and rubbed my eyes. She was wearing this sexy red shirt, with a scoop neck so low…well, it was low, and I had to fight to keep my eyes up where they were supposed to be. "Uh," I stuttered a bit, "You needed something?"

Brilliant. I winced visibly at my stupidity. Of course she needed something, that's why she was knocking on my door, idiot, I berated myself with an internal monologue.

She pushed by me, and sashayed into my room. Yes, she sashayed. I didn't know she could do that. She pranced to my bed, and sat down, crossing her legs, and leaning over so far that little was left to the imagination because of that scoop neck.

"Um," I coughed uncomfortably, reaching onto the chair and grabbing my shirt, suddenly aware of my bare chest in a way I hadn't been in a while. I slid it on quickly. "Uh, what can I do for you?" I cringed at how that came out. Sounded like I was offering something that you'd get in a red light district. I forced my head up, nothing to look at down there, I told myself.

She ran a finger over her bottom lip, slowly, sensuously. I think if I'd been a cartoon character, my eyes would've bugged out of my head. She was one hundred percent aware of the effect she was having on me. "I wanted to," she did another slow trace of her lip, "discuss the security of the quarters with you."

I took a step backwards, and another. She was eyeing me like I was a piece of candy in Joe's candy shop from back home. She slid up from my bed, and came at me, slowly, and we did this dance. I took a step back, and she stepped forward, until I hit the wall, and she was up close, leaning into me. She pushed her body into mine, and leaned over, breathing on my neck, and lowering her mouth closer to my skin.

Now, I know you're thinking, this is the stuff a guy dreams about, but I knew this was wrong. Elizabeth and I had exchanged some looks, and sure, there was some chemistry there, but neither of us were prepared to go any further, at least not yet. But here she was, as if out of my dreams, and I was about to run for cover. My buddies would laugh me out of the bar, but this was weird, and I wasn't into weird. I tried to push her back without being aggressive. "Uh, Elizabeth? You know, I'm, um, well to be honest," I was mucking this all up, "Beckett told me to rest," I tried, hoping that might get through to her.

She nibbled my ear lobe, causing me to grin because, let's face it, guys are really sensitive there. "You'll get plenty of rest, John," She murmured, sweet and low, and God, I felt my insides clench.

"Okay, that's enough, just," I pushed her away, stronger, and this time she pulled back, allowing me some breathing room, "stop. What's with you, anyway? You aren't the next Elvira, so just back off," I said, and the more I spoke, the angrier I got, and the louder I got.

She pouted. "You don't want me?"

This can't be happening, this can't be happening, I repeated over, and over again inside my head, because it really couldn't be happening. I closed my eyes, covering them with my hands, and kept repeating it, like I was Dorothy in Oz, and clicking my feet together crying, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home!"

"John?"

It was Elizabeth again. She was pulling my hands off my face. I let her, and opened my eyes warily, to find she was standing before me, wearing her normal outfit; she even had her gray jacket on. She was looking at me, worried, and motherly. I swallowed, and tried to stand up straighter.

I wanted to act casual, but I'll be honest with you, at this point, I was more than a little freaked out. Things were happening that I couldn't explain, and things like this just weren't normal, not even for this side of the universe. "Elizabeth," I croaked, my voice deep and throaty, still trying to shake off the desire that had entered my mind and body, even unwanted. "Something's wrong."

"Now, tell me again, what did you see in your soup?" Beckett asked.

I had left my quarters and headed straight to the infirmary. I hadn't given Elizabeth all the information about my hallucination, but I did tell her that I was seeing things, experiencing things, that weren't real. She'd given me a concerned look, and told me to report to the infirmary. I bolted like a bat out of hell, because at that moment, I wanted to get away from her, and find some control over myself.

So, here I sat, on one of those thin infirmary beds, with Beckett beside me, sitting on one of those small black stools that the doctor's loved to use, and everyone else loved for the twirl factor.

"Bugs," I enunciated carefully. "There were tons of small bugs."

Beckett frowned. "Are you sure you didn't just mistake the beans "

"I'm sure!" I'd been trying to get Carson to take me seriously, but the man didn't want to believe I was cracking up. I didn't blame him. I wasn't too excited about the idea either, but something wasn't right in Kansas, and I needed him to believe me if I was going to get any help. "It's not just that. Rodney tried to kill me, he told me to pull my hair out, Elizabeth said McKay tried to kill me, and she's acting…odd."

Now Beckett was starting to believe me, and I tell you how I know. He'd gone from that slightly confused, but not very worried look, too something along the lines of finding a straight jacket, and putting me in it. "I see." Carson said, and he was taking notes furiously on the clipboard in his hand.

I had a flash of panic at that point, wondering if maybe this wasn't the smartest thing to do. I grimaced, and pushed myself off the bed. "I'm sure I just need to sleep," I muttered, trying to peek at the notes, while heading for the exit.

"Major, sit down," Beckett ordered. He was standing up, his board slung on his hip, and I could tell by the look on his face that I'd done it now.

I paused where I was, which was about half way to the exit. I pondered if making a break for it was the better course. I know he knew what I was thinking, because he looked ready to tackle me. I'd heard rumors that he'd been a linebacker in college, and he looked built for it. I supposed I could take him, but it'd hurt.

We endured the stand off for a few minutes, and I almost went for it. I wasn't sure where I'd go, but somehow I didn't think going back to that bed docilely was the right choice to make, but how far I'd make it on the lam in the city wasn't entirely clear. McKay would figure out how to find me, I was sure of it. I bit my lip, and I never bite my lip. Beckett narrowed his eyes, and clutched the board tighter, as if it were a pigskin. Damn, I thought.

I caved. I let my muscles relax, and I headed back for the bed. The relief in Carson's eyes was palpable. Obviously, he hadn't wanted to take me down. Either he wasn't as good as I'd heard, or he just wasn't up for the physical strain today. I hopped up, and eyed him uneasily. "I'm not crazy," I stated, as much for myself, as for him.

"I didn't say you were," he replied.

Now he was making me nervous. He wasn't saying much, and that bothered me more than if he wouldn't shut up. "What are you going to do?"

He seemed to consider me, and then put the chart beside my leg. "Observation, Major. See if you have any more of these episodes."

I relaxed. Observation isn't so bad. I could do that. There were even some cute nurses in the infirmary, that blonde one had a bit of a thing for me, I could tell. There were worse ways to spend a few days. I'd have to get Teyla to bring me some decent food. I'd enlist McKay's help, but I was still leery of him since the electrocution incident, whether it was innocent or not, and besides, his idea of cuisine was a power bar.

Beckett handed me some scrubs, and told me to get dressed. I guess he meant undressed, since the change amounted to putting less on. I preferred to stay dressed. "Can I "

"No," Beckett interrupted, giving me a severe look.

Okay then. I took the scrubs, and waited until he'd pulled the privacy curtain shut around my bed. I shucked my pants, and slipped on the loose pink ones. The shirt went next. At least scrubs weren't as bad as a gown. I'd said it before, but it always bears repeating. Gowns let a whole lot more of a person show, and while I didn't mind being the one doing the checking out, I hated having the distinct feeling that I was the piece of meat up on the auction plate.

"Are you decent?" Carson called from behind the curtain.

"Yeah," I replied, and busied myself with folding my clothes neatly. It's a thing with me.

The curtain was pulled back, and revealed not Beckett, but a Wraith, standing in Carson's white lab coat, and regarding me kindly. It even had a stethoscope around its neck. I froze, like the proverbial deer in the headlights, while my mind tried to tell my body that it wasn't real. The problem with that, was that every sense was sending signals, and those signals were screaming Wraith! The smell, the sight, and I knew if I reached out to touch him, it'd be that cold, dry skin that managed to have a touch of sliminess.

My body finally responded to my panicked thoughts, and I jumped backwards, but the bed was in my way, and I ended up falling over it. The Wraith was coming at me, and I scrambled back, trying desperately to get away. It was saying something, but I would've had to stay still, and let it reach me, in order to hear what it said.

I saw other Wraith swarm in, and all I could think of was to get away. I started hitting anything that came near me, as hard as I could, and I cut a swath of bodies, as I fought to get out of the infirmary. I had almost made it, just a few more steps, when I felt something sting my arm. I looked up, surprised, and saw the Beckett Wraith pulling a needle out of my skin. "God damn it," I managed, before I slumped to the ground, bonelessly.

AN: Debenham, I get that from personal experience and hints off the show, and perhaps it is more of a thing that is implied as a whole, and nothing hard to grasp. Most people hate hospitals (including myself), and we also know that John is a guy that wants to be in control, and he's headstrong, we've seen that throughout season one. I also caught a bit from Suspcion, when he returns to the gateroom after the stunner bit. He's shaky on his feet (hence he heads right for the chair), and he blows off that he shouldn't be there with an off-hand comment. That's really the basis I have for it, those things, and his dynamic personality. Is there reasonable canon for it, maybe not, but we haven't gotten to see a lot either way, so for now, it fits for what I believe. I do hear you, don't get me wrong, but I guess what I'm trying to say, sometimes we have to go with our assumptions and gut feelings on what we see the character as being like, and hope we get it as close to canon as we can.

redick4, yes, first person! I know it's a first for me with stories, but I've written a lot of first person humor shorts based upon my kid's guniea pig (you'd have to read it to understand, but it involves hairy escapes, rescues, and big toys).

And, for everyone else, thank you so much, glad everyone is like the story! Hopefully this chapter won't dissappoint!