Elizabeth felt herself shaking as she watched Beckett and his team wheel John away on a gurney. He had looked so...fragile. It broke her heart to see him like that. John Sheppard was the strongest person she knew, but now he looked broken.

"Dr. Weir?"

She turned to find Teyla watching her with concern. "Yes?"

Teyla touched her arm. "Major Sheppard will get through this. He is a strong man."

"I know." But Elizabeth liked hearing her own thoughts echoed. "What happened to him?"

"We do not know." Teyla looked unsettled. "We found him beneath a tree, out in the open. There were no structures nearby and he was not in any condition to tell us where he had been or what had happened."

Elizabeth nodded. "I guess we'll have to wait until he wakes up then." And he will wake up, a voice in her head whispered. Elizabeth prayed that the voice was right.

"Major Sheppard. John?"

He heard his name as if from a distance and the voice calling him was familiar, but he didn't want to leave the darkness. It was peaceful here, soft and warm. He was so tired of being cold. But he knew the warm darkness wouldn't last. Already he could feel the prickle of icy pain creeping under his skin. But maybe if he could scratch hard enough it would go away.

"Grab his hands...bloody hell!"

That same voice was sharp now, piercing his head and shattering the darkness. Then something gripped him and he fought against it. Fought against them. He knew they would hurt him, that they would bring the pain back and twist it around him like a coil of rope. He could feel it pulling tight around him, squeezing out each jagged breath.

"Major...it's Dr. Beckett! You need to calm down, laddie. You're safe now. You're home!"

He didn't believe it. This wasn't home. Home was bright and warm and full of whispers that no one else could hear. She promised he was home, but home wasn't this faded gray place where pain shimmered on the edge of his mind, grating on his skin like sand, pressing him down hard so that he couldn't breathe because he was slick with liquid fire that pulsed in his veins and he felt open and sharp. He could feel himself falling because there was nothing to hold on to anymore. He couldn't wrap himself around the pain because it drifted into mist, but he reached for it, begging for it, but it slipped away and his voice was raw like shrapnel in his ears.

"Get the restraints on him dammit!"

The devil was laughing from his grave. He screamed so he couldn't hear him.

"How is he?"

Beckett sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, wishing he didn't have to answer that question. But Dr. Weir had asked it and everyone was waiting for his answer. So he folded his hands on the conference room table and stared at the faces staring back at him. "Not good. The major is a mess. He's malnourished and dehydrated for a start. He's battling an infection and a fever and I'm not able to medicate him the way I would like."

Weir's eyebrow arched at that. "Why not?"

"He's got some drug in his system, it's saturated his bloodstream. It seems to induce hallucinations, severe ones. For the most part the major is detached from reality, at least at the moment. It also is causing him to suffer severe withdrawal." Carson sighed again. "I've had to put him in restraints. He's hurting and I don't dare give him anything."

"But you can help him...right?" Rodney interjected.

Carson shifted his gaze to McKay. "I'm trying, but I can't identify the drug so I don't know what to do for him that won't make it worse. But I will tell you this, it's going to get worse before it gets better."

Teyla looked startled, then her features settled into a grim expression. "I believe I may know what drug the major was given. It is from a bittan root. Some call it Red Sun and use it for trade. My people have no use for it. It serves no purpose but to enslave the user for life."

"What do you mean by that?" Weir prompted.

"Once a person takes the drug...you must continue to take it or you will die." Teyla's words echoed in the room.

Rodney looked horrified, then he looked at Beckett. "Surely with our medical advancements you could make an antidote or something?"

Carson shrugged. "Maybe, but I'd have to run tests and in case you haven't noticed, we don't have any of the stuff to even confirm that it is the stuff given to the major."

"I can get some for you," Teyla spoke up.

"That would help, if only to eliminate possibilities," Carson allowed.

Weir locked eyes with Teyla. "Where and how long will it take you?"

Teyla considered. "A few hours. We can step through the gate to reach the place."

"Lt. Ford, go with her," Weir ordered.

"Yes, ma'am." Ford was on his feet and heading for the door with Teyla on his heels.

Rodney was still staring at Carson. "Can I see the major?"

Carson winced at the tension he could feel rolling off of Rodney in waves. "I suppose...but he's in a bad way right now. It won't be easy on you or him."

"He'd be there for me," Rodney stated, flatly.

"Aye...that he would." Carson could not deny it. "Go ahead then." He watched Rodney barrel out of the room, then he turned to find Weir looking at him.

She turned away to ask, "Will Sheppard be alright?"

Carson wished he could give her the answer she wanted to hear. "I'll do everything I can," he promised. It was the best he could do. Carson rose to his feet and quietly left the room.

John woke to familiar voices that weren't muffled in his head. They were crisp and sharp and he could almost believe this was real.

"...Dr. Beckett said I could sit with the major so I am going to sit with him? Don't you have something to do? Like...empty bed pans or something?"

He couldn't move much, but John shifted to one side as much as the bindings on his wrists would allow and turned his head. There was thick softness padding his wrists instead of the cold bite of steel, but he was still trapped and it made him scared to believe. He closed his eyes for a moment so he could focus on the pain. It shifted over his skin and twisted in his gut, but it was familiar and it grounded him.

"You're awake."

John opened his eyes and blinked hard. He knew the face that hovered over him. The devil was dead. He thought he might have smiled.

"Do you know where you are, Major?"

He didn't answer.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Rodney." He said it clearly but choked when his throat cleared up.

Rodney looked pleased then panicked. He grabbed the glass of water on the bed table and held the straw to Sheppard's lips. "Just little sips," he ordered.

John hesitated a moment, but this was Rodney. Rodney wasn't the devil. So he took a sip and it was sweet and cool in his mouth and sliding down his throat and the pain eased back for just a moment. Far enough to tease him, not soothe him. "How...how long?" It was hard to talk and he hoped Rodney would understand. John felt the pain slipping back, blurring the sharp edges of his clarity. He knew that this reality would soon fade away and he felt a flutter of panic.

"About 34 hours," Rodney replied, glancing at his watch. "I need to let Beckett know you're awake. And Weir. Everyone really."

"Wait. Don't go." John didn't want to be alone with his thoughts. He knew they would slip away from him. He struggled to shift position, tugging on the restraints. He looked at Rodney with hope shining in his eyes. He could feel it.

Rodney shook his head. "I'm sorry...I can't, not until Beckett checks you over. It's for your own safety, Major. You understand."

He didn't but he nodded. "Okay." John managed to curl up a bit more and he felt safer.

"What happened to you?" Rodney blurted out.

"Kolya." John felt his breath catch in his throat as he whispered the name and his body went taut as he waited for the pain to rupture him from the inside out, but it was still humming on the edge of his skin, taunting him.

Rodney looked stunned. "Kolya is alive?"

John felt himself rocking, searching for that soothing lullaby that had echoed softly in his head. But it eluded him. He had to blink hard to focus back on Rodney. "I don't know," he whispered. He vaguely remembered a gun in his hand and Kolya's surprised expression, frozen in lifeless eyes. But he couldn't be sure and that scared him. "I don't remember."

"It's okay...it doesn't matter." Rodney reached out and gripped John by the shoulder. "You're safe now, Major. You're home and safe."

"Home.." John let the word slip off his tongue and listened as it echoed in his head. "How did I...I don't remember coming home." There were images that flashed in his head but they were quick-silver blinks that he couldn't quite capture and everything felt surreal. Even Rodney's hand on his shoulder. John had to look to make sure he really was touching him. He shifted about again, dislodging Rodney's hand, and the little bit of warmth that had seeped into him, leeched away. John felt tears burning in his eyes and he blinked them back. "What's wrong with me?" He remembered hands holding him and Kolya's looming face and pinpricks in his skin sending icy-heat rushing through his veins.

Rodney grabbed a stool and sat down. "You were drugged, Major. Beckett is working on a way to help you."

John felt a bubble of laughter welling up and he swallowed it down. He didn't think it was supposed to be funny but laughing was better than crying and he felt like crying right now, only he didn't know why. "...tired..." he whispered, but he didn't close his eyes. He kept them locked on Rodney's face, even when the image blurred at the edges.

"Go to sleep, you need to rest." Rodney was patting his shoulder again.

"No…you'll go away." John was tired of being alone inside his head.

Rodney offered a sad smile. "I'm not going anywhere, Major. I promise."

It wasn't a lie. John would recognize a lie. So he let his eyes drift closed and the pain tiptoed over his skin, sheathing him in its prickly heat. He wanted to scratch it away but he couldn't free his hands, but his fingers clenched, nails digging into his palms. "Please..." he didn't mean to whimper but he couldn't swallow fast enough to muffle the sound. His throat was too tight, too raw. He felt every muscle clench up as tendrils of white-hot flames burrowed into his flesh, worming their way inside him, twisting into his gut until the wrapped themselves into a knot and pulled tight.

He wouldn't scream, the devil would here him screaming.

"John?"

He peeled his eyes open, blinking back the sheen of tears. He couldn't cry either. He wouldn't stop if he did. John tried to shift closer to Rodney and he felt strong fingers grip his shoulder again, grounding him so that the pain couldn't rip him out of this reality. "...hurts...hurts..." he whispered.

Rodney's eyes went wide with panic. "Get Beckett!" he shouted to the nurse. Then both hands gripped Sheppard's shoulders. "It's going to be okay, Major. You'll be okay."

That was a lie. John recognized lies again. He bit his lip until the copper taste slicked his tongue and then fuzzy gray shadows blinded him and he couldn't see Rodney's face. John whimpered and prayed for darkness. Even if the devil was dancing there.