The warm blue waters of the Caribbean surrounded John Sheppard as he swam amongst the coral. Colorful schools of fish went peacefully swimming by while seaweed ungulated gently on the sandy floor. The water gradually began to grow colder and turned grayer. Now it was the ocean of Atlantis, and he suddenly realized he wasn't wearing a snorkel, much less scuba gear. "I'm going to drown." He took a shallow breath, expecting his lungs to fill with water - strange, he could breathe underwater after all, careful shallow breaths, how odd. Looking around, he noticed an area where the gray became lighter--that must be the way towards the surface. He struck out in that direction; gradually things became brighter and the Atlantean sea began to smell oddly of disinfectant and less of salt. Breaking through the surface into the sunlight with a gasp, he opened his eyes.

Crap. Infirmary. Again.

He felt a reassuring touch on his arm and was surprised it didn't hurt, though at the moment, he couldn't seem to remember why he thought that it should. Turning his head slightly he saw Elizabeth Weir. She gave him small relieved smile and turned away. Probably trying catch Beckett's eye.

He tried to piece together his current circumstances, but it was no good. Nothing immediately came to mind that would explain laying flat on his back in the infirmary or why his chest ached abominably--but he assumed the two were related somehow. A quick glance at Weir gave him no indication if he was hero or villain. She was the type of leader who preferred you were one hundred percent before she reamed you a new one, though she had certainly never been shy about telling him exactly what she thought about his gung-ho attitude. He just hoped he hadn't done anything this time to earn her wrath. Weir's Wrath. He like the sound of that. It bounced around his brain until suddenly…

He grabbed the scrub shirt and jerked it up in panic to look at his chest, disrupting several monitor leads in his haste and causing the devices to begin squealing in alarm. Ripping off the large patch of gauze that covered his chest revealed a bright red welt in the shape of a hand. He reached up and felt his face, relieved when it seemed the same as he remembered. It was only then he noticed his left hand was bandaged.

Beckett appeared at his other side, calmly snapping off various switches and silencing the frantic beeping of the monitors. For a second, Sheppard thought Atlantis was shifting under him until he realized that the doctor was just adjusting the bed slightly.

"How do you feel?" Beckett asked.

He thought about that for a moment. How did he feel? "Tingly. My chest hurts."

"The burns will heal, though you may have some slight scarring. Which is a small price to pay, considering the circumstances."

Sheppard was confused. "What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" countered Beckett.

Just like the doctor to answer a question with a question, he thought, exasperated. "The Wraith were in the city and Fred was about to turn me into a happy meal."

Beckett and Weir exchanged amused glances at his phrasing. "You killed the Wraith."

"I did?" He didn't remember killing Fred. In fact, he was pretty sure he had been the one who died. "How?" He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. His chest and hand were becoming increasingly painful and the tingling was becoming less an annoyance and more like his nerve endings were on fire.

"Later," said Beckett with a reassuring pat as he noticed the signs of his patient's increasing discomfort.

Sheppard automatically jerked his arm away in reflex before he realized the doctor's touch hadn't caused a zap. "Hey, I'm not electric anymore! When did that happen?"

"We can go over it later," said Carson firmly.

Definitely annoyed, Sheppard looked to Weir for enlightenment but she seemed to be doing a stellar impression of the Mona Lisa: calm and serene, but obviously not planning on saying a word.

Beckett had used the momentary distraction to inject something into his I.V. port. Huh. I didn't even notice I had an I.V. The pain diminished and he began to feel lethargic and sleepy. He doubted it was a coincidence. There was something he needed to know first though. "What about O'Conner?" he managed to ask.

"Just stunned," Beckett assured him as he adjusted the drip of the I.V.

"Apparently the Wraith were too busy with each other to stop and feed," Weir added.

"Mmmm," was the only comment Sheppard could manage before drifting off.

oOo

He awoke to the smell of coffee and eggs. An attractive blond nurse was setting up what appeared to be a breakfast tray beside his bed. His stomach growled and the nurse turned with a smile to adjust his bed and tray to make him more comfortable. She handed him a fork and watched to be sure he was eating before continuing about her duties. It was then he realized, his I.V. had been removed. That cheered him up considerably and he tackled his breakfast with gusto. A few minutes later, he sighed as he finished the last bite of toast. Unfortunately, his comfort was short lived and he realized he had added to another problem. He was practically sitting up already, the bed having been adjusted for breakfast, so he gingerly swung his legs off the edge. Beckett was at his side in the next instant, startling Sheppard with his touch. He wondered how long it would be before he would get used to not being zapped.

"Bathroom," he said firmly, daring Beckett to stop him.

Beckett waived over the nurse while keeping a restraining hand on Sheppard's arm. The nurse promptly took his other arm and Beckett's grip changed to one of support.

Sheppard eased himself off the bed and allowed them to assist him while he got his balance. When it became clear he wasn't going to collapse on the spot, they carefully guided himt owards the bathroom. At the entrance, John shook off their hands, and firmly closed the door in their faces. This he would manage on his own. He blessed whoever had installed the chrome support bars over the commode because he was relatively sure he was going to need them. He even managed to wash his hands before Beckett came in to check on him. Too bad they don't have locks on these doors. But he supposed it was on purpose in case some patient passed out cold while taking a leak.

Carson helped him back to bed. He, John Sheppard, who ran at least three miles before breakfast each morning, couldn't walk ten lousy feet to use a bathroom without shaking with exhaustion.

"Don't worry," said the doctor as if sensing his thoughts, "Your body just needs a little time to adjust."

John nodded his head in gratitude for the explanation and leaned back, closing his eyes.

When he awoke later that evening, he found McKay sitting by his bed, reading through a stack of reports and munching on the ubiquitous power bar.

"You get the control room back up and running?" Sheppard asked by way of greeting.

McKay met the comment with a narrowing of his eyes. "Yes I did. The repairs on the primary conduit were almost completed when all hell broke loose. All I had to do is finish that repair and reroute the power back through them. Now the secondary conduits, on the other hand, are going to need extensive…"

"Sorry I asked," interrupted Sheppard, looking from side to side for the bed control.

"I've got it," said McKay, pressing the switch that would raise the head of the bed. "Good?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"Did you find out where the Wraith came from?"

"Our best guess? M3H-127, the planet with the kids."

"That seems an unlikely coincidence," said Sheppard. He helped himself to the cup of water by his bed.

"I agree."

"How did they track us? I thought you couldn't trace the last address that was dialed by a DHD."

"I've never found a way."

"So you're admitting there might be something you don't know?" needled Sheppard, a small smile touching his lips.

McKay pointedly ignored the comment. "There's another possibility."

Sheppard became more subdued. "There was a Wraith spy on the planet watching us."

McKay nodded his head in agreement. "Speaking of our friendly neighborhood vampires, what was with all the carnage in the hall where we found you?"

"Wraith smackdown."

"Smackdown? They were fighting each other? Why?"

"I don't think we're the only ones 'trespassing on feeding grounds'."

McKay pondered that comment a moment. "Okay, I'm officially freaked out by that idea."

Sheppard grinned at the uncharacteristically unscientific term. "It's not necessarily a bad thing, provided they're too busy with each other to worry about us."

"They weren't too busy for the people on M3H-127…and why leave the children to die?"

"I'm beginning to think they didn't so much leave the children, as take all the adults," said Sheppard.

"I'm not sure I understand the distinction."

"What if Wraith 'poachers' took all the adults just to spite the other group or maybe they just took so many that when the other group arrived, they had to take everyone that was left."

"That still doesn't explain why they left the children to die."

"They ignored the children, probably because they're not worth the effort expended for the energy they provide," said Sheppard. "They didn't take any of the children on Athos, either," he reminded the scientist.

"True…" said Rodney, still not completely convinced. "Maybe there was more than one spy on the planet," suggested McKay in sudden inspiration. "Someone keeping an eye out for poachers?"

"Definitely a possibility and it would explain how we ended up with both groups continuing their little disagreement here on Atlantis." Sheppard reached out toward the pitcher to pour himself another glass of water.

"Here," said Rodney, offering to fill the plastic cup. His fingers inadvertently touched the Major's and the cup went clattering to the floor when Sheppard recoiled at the contact.

"Sorry," John said sheepishly. "I still keep expecting to get zapped." He was amazed at how ingrained the response had become in such a short period of time.

"Ah yes, the exciting adventures of Electroman are now at an end," remarked McKay, picking up the cup and replacing it with a clean one which he filled and handed to Sheppard.

John accepted the cup gratefully. "Ford?" He was going to have to get that kid to stop naming everything.

Rodney shook his head. "He went with 'The Zapper'."

"The Zapper," mused Sheppard, "I kinda like that one, actually."

"Annoying as it may have been, it did save your life."

"What exactly happened? I thought the world ended when Fred touched me."

"We're not sure but it seems that you, for lack of a better term, electrocuted the Wraith."

"I fried Fred," said Sheppard, amused. "So how come Fred's dead and I'm still here?"

"True electrocution depends on a number of factors: contact voltage, mechanical pressure, insulation, composition of blood, etc. We can only guess the things that might affect Ancient power."

"Okay, so how did I get de-electrified?"

"It could have been something to do with the chemical the wraith used to 'prepare' their victims, the stunner blast, the gene, or a combination of any or all of the above in concert with your drawing power from Atlantis at the same time. There are just too many variables under uncontrolled conditions to speculate."

"Spoken like a true scientist," said Sheppard. "Well at least I won't have to suffer through any more of your experiments."

"I still think using you as a battery should have worked..."