John knew that Weir was dead and it jolted him out of the hazy darkness he had been floating in. "No!" He tried to sit up but realized he was still restrained. "Fuck…" He winced at how hoarse and raw his voice sounded to his own ears.

"Easy, major." Carson was by his side in an instant. "Have a sip of water." He held out a glass with a straw stuck in it.

"Weir?" John wasn't interested in the water.

Carson set the glass back down and sighed. "She's just fine, laddie."

John did not believe him, but he would play along. "I want to see her!" He pulled at the restraints as he glared at Beckett. But the man just shook his head at him and John wanted to scream in frustration. "You can't keep me here forever!" he snarled at the doctor.

"Major."

It was Weir's voice and John jerked his head in the direction it came from and relief flooded his body to see her walking towards him. But then he saw the being walking beside her and John felt his entire body tense up. What made it worse was that Tim was grinning at him. John forced himself to focus on Weir, wishing he could reach out to her and draw her away from the creature. "You're okay." John looked her up and down to be sure.

Elizabeth nodded. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason." It took a monumental effort on John's part not to shift his head to glare at Tim. But he knew that if he projected his anger at the being everyone else saw as Rodney, then they would keep him trapped here. So John made himself relax, one muscle at a time.

"How are you feeling, John?" Elizabeth queried as she studied him intently.

He wasn't sure how to answer that. If he said the wrong thing he was in trouble. John had to be careful, he had to get out of here so he could find Rodney. "I've been better," he allowed. "Look...I realize I've been acting a bit crazy. I'm sorry. I promise you that I'm okay so...um...maybe you could let me out of these things?" John pulled on the restraints to get his point across.

Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest and sighed. "I don't think that's a good idea, John. Not yet."

"Then when?" He couldn't hide his frustration. "I'm not crazy and I'm not going to hurt anyone."

"You were ready to hurt Rodney," Elizabeth fired back at him.

And John had to look at Tim and the smug look on the creature's face made John see red. But he held his anger in check. It wasn't as if he had a choice. He closed his eyes for a moment then whispered, "I'm sorry about that."

Elizabeth reached out and touched him on the arm. "John...you know that this is Rodney, right? Carson told you how he ran tests and everything."

"Yeah...he told me." John accepted her touch but kept his eyes closed. If he looked at her she would see what he was really thinking. "I can't explain what happened, Elizabeth. I wish I could. But I'm okay now...really."

"I really want to believe that, John," Elizabeth countered. "But Carson can't find a physical reason for your behavior, which leads me to believe it had a psychological trigger. So if you want out of the restraints and out of here, you have to talk to Heightmeyer."

That was the last thing John wanted to do. He hated shrinks. They asked stupid questions and he always felt as if he were being graded on his answers. Like there was such a thing as a wrong answer when it came to a person's feelings. But he shrugged off his thoughts on the matter and made himself look at Weir. "Okay...fine...I'll talk to her." John would do whatever it took to get out of here. Rodney needed him. No one else knew he was missing. No one else would look for him. No one else could save him. "When?" John prompted. He needed out of here now.

Carson interjected. "You need to eat and get some more rest, major. I'll set up an appointment for later."

"Why not now?" John tried not to reveal the urgency he felt.

"Follow doctor's orders, John," Weir instructed. She squeezed his shoulder and smiled. "I have a meeting to get to but I'll come check on you later."

John managed a smile and nodded. "Okay. I'll be here." She was used to his banter and he wanted her to think he was back to normal. At least from her point of view.

Carson checked on Sheppard's vitals then looked at Rodney. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Not really." Tim grabbed a nearby stool and pulled it over to Sheppard's bed. "I'll keep the major company for a bit."

"Don't stay long," Carson cautioned. "He needs to rest." With that he headed out to check on other patients.

John glared at Tim. "No more games you sonofabitch. Where is McKay?" Is he alive?"

Tim shrugged. "You don't pay attention, do you? I told you...he's sleeping?" Slipping off the stool, Tim moved closer, leaning in over Sheppard. "If you can get yourself released from here...I will take you to see McKay."

"Why should I believe you?" Not for one moment did John trust the creature to be honest with him.

"What other choice do you have?" Tim countered, a smirk curving his thin lips.

John cursed beneath his breath. The bastard was right. "I'll get out of here," he promised, then he flinched back as a scaly hand reached for him. But he couldn't escape, being bound as he was, and strong fingers pressed into his temples again and John found himself back in the Atlantis of the past. Only this time he lived in the moment.

He was one of them. John didn't see what happened so much as he experienced it. He stood on the balcony, smiling at a beautiful blond woman. They leaned in for a kiss only to jump apart at the sound of an explosion. Then all hell broke loose and figures that John could not see clearly appeared and surrounded them. He watched the woman cry out then she was falling and he caught her in his arms and felt a warm wetness. He stared down in horror as her blood stained his clothes. And even as John held her, her features morphed into Weir's visage and John cried out in denial. "No! NO!" He let her slip to the floor then stared at his hands. They were covered in blood.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

John didn't feel Tim slip away from him. He didn't hear Beckett come running. He didn't feel the hands that held him down or the pinprick that send him spiraling into blessed oblivion.

He came awake to the sound of fuzzy voices and realized they were talking about him.

"...so there's no brain abnormalities of any kind? Nothing that suggests this is physical? Maybe a chemical induced trauma?"

"I did all the scans and an entire blood work up," Carson was saying. "I can't find any reason for the major's behavior. But I have read his file and his psyche reports."

The woman's voice was vaguely familiar but John couldn't quite place it.

"So you're thinking it's Post Traumatic syndrome in some form or another."

"Seems likely," Carson stated.

"Let me know when he's awake and able to interact coherently and we'll find out."

"Let me check on him before you go."

John heard footsteps approaching and he forced open bleary eyes. He had to blink several times to bring Beckett's face into focus. "Quit giving me...this shit," John slurred.

Carson grimaced. "I don't like doing it," he allowed. "But you don't leave me any choice, laddie. How are you feeling?"

"Like something crawled up in my head and took up residence." John tried to rub his temples, having forgotten about the restraints, until the hindered his movement. "Fuck...fuck...FUCK!"

"Now...now, major," Carson chided. "There's a lady present."

John heard lighter footsteps and turned his head. He found himself staring at Heightmeyer. She had the voice that was vaguely familiar. John had managed to avoid any sessions with her to date. Which he knew irritated both Weir and Beckett to know end. But he had had enough of psychologist's back on Earth. But he nodded at her and mumbled an apology. For the cursing, not for the attitude he was going to give her once she tried to probe inside his head. "Sorry."

She smiled at him. "That's all right, Major Sheppard. I'm used to it. Do you feel up to talking?"

"Could I have some water first?" John wasn't exactly stalling. His throat felt dry and raw.

"Of course." Heightmeyer grabbed the glass with the straw and held it for him. "Better?" She asked, when he pulled away.

John nodded. "Yeah. Better. Can I be straight with you?"

She looked surprised but then she nodded. "Of course. If I'm going to help you we need to be straight with each other, major."

"Right." John locked eyes with her and blurted out the truth. "I don't want to do this and I'm sure you can guess why."

"I don't like to make guesses, major," she countered. "Why don't you tell me why."

He resisted the urge to heave a sigh. Classic maneuver that all shrinks used. Turn everything he said around onto him. Make him answer his own questions. John hated that tactic. "You've read my file, doc. I've seen a lot of scary shit and there's a lot of scary shit in my head. But none of that makes me crazy. I just don't like stranger trying to figure me out."

Heightmeyer studied him for a moment. "That's understandable, major. But you do realize that you've been displaying some rather questionable behavior...and it's my job to help you figure out why. And that's all I want to do...is help you. If you'll let me."

"I just want out of here," John confessed. "So what do I have to do?" Whatever it was she wanted, he would do it.

"I want to tell me how you really feel about Dr. McKay," Heightmeyer replied.

John hadn't expected that question and he didn't know what to say that wouldn't make matters worse. He opened his mouth to blurt out something that would pacify her when he heard it. A voice in his head, calling his name. A familiar voice. "Rodney.." John whispered then his eyes rolled back in his head.