Chapter 5:

Disclaimer: same as previously stated

A/N for those that were truly upset by the delay in posting, I apologize. I wasn't and I'm still not certain whether I'll finish this flick. I don't know where I want to take it. So thanks to those few that are continuing on the scary road that is my sub-conscience come to light and hopefully you won't be too completely disappointed.

Once again R&R is always appreciated and if anyone has suggestions or directions that they think this should go, please let me know.

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Ah the ever familiar sound of a heart monitor. It invaded his mind and settled into his soul like an old lover even before the fog lifted from his mind enough for John to understand what it was, Sheppard felt that even in death that sound would follow him. It was a beckon that never stopped and always signaled that he was still in the here and now no matter what mischief he had gotten himself into in an effort to leave the corporeal world.

To complement the steady hum of Sheppard's bedside buddy, a Scotish brogue broke into the lingering mist. "Open yer eyes for me lad. I know that you're awake."

He wanted to ignore the voice. To wake up meant to accept the situation and for the first time in a long time John decided that he was tired of being in charge. He was tired of placing the blame upon his shoulders and allowing it to slowly bury him under it. In reality, he was just plain tired of it all. Maybe if he concentrated enough, he could shut his mind down–close it off and sink down into eternal oblivion.

There was too much pain in the light, whereas the dark offered a relief that would have him and Lucifer toasting over the drying ink on the contact. He was perfectly content to remain in the numbing void where thoughts moved like molasses and the bite to the guilt that had previously threatened to overwhelm him was muted. Didn't Carson understand that? To open his eyes now would mean that he had to accept reality and that the emotions that he'd tried so hard to keep stored away would be free to pour through the cracks in his armor.

But the voice didn't stop and the darkness continued to recede. The living were calling and thus the living dead must answer. Glued lashes parted ever so slowly as one hazel eye peered out from hollowed sockets; the other hazel orb joining it shortly thereafter.

"That'a boy, now follow me light for a moment"

The miniature sun burned into his cornea causing the pupils to dilate and Sheppard's heavy lids instinctively closed down once again.

"Now Major, that's not very sporty of you. I have to check yer eyes to make sure that everything's alright with you. You know the drill. So if you'd just open up yer eyes again we can get this out of the way and then you can tell me what the bloody hell you were doing wandering around the halls when ye know bloody damn well you shouldn't have stepped out of this infirmary." The words tumbled from the flustered physician's mouth as his rant continued on. Why the hell couldn't the Major just do as he's told for once the doctor asked his sub-conscience?

Hazel eyes once more looked upon the world. But the eyes where different than those that Beckett had looked into hundreds of times before. The spark that had once burned brightly with a life of their own was gone. The flame no longer burned and this scared the doctor more than anything else in the last few days.

Carson knew how close the Major and McKay had become over the last year. Against all odds these two had formed a bond that linked them together so completely that it appeared at times that they really were two parts of the same soul split into two bodies. And now a half of that soul was gone forever and it appeared that the other half would soon join it if something didn't change real soon.

Carson completed his examinations of Sheppard and told him that he wanted to keep him for another day to make sure that he was okay. As mush as the Doctor wanted to know what had possessed his patient to wander off, he felt that his queries would go unanswered and thus refrained from giving them a voice.

Sheppard listened and accepted Beckett's decision without a single word of protest. He nodded slightly and curled up on his side and stared at the wall. He didn't really care where his physical body was at the moment because his mind was trapped in a warped replay of the past.

At a loss for what to do, Carson patted him lightly on the shoulder before turning and heading back to sanctuary of his office.

"Best friends talk to each other." The statement was so plain that its meaning overflowed the simple words used to address it. Those six little words held so much unsaid anguish and pain within their hidden depths that had suddenly been laid bare. For it wasn't the words so much as the voice, stance, and emotion infused in them by their maker that caused Sheppard's breath to hitch in his throat.

"You can tell me you're fine from here to the next millennium, but you and I both know that that's a lie. And a pretty poor one at that," the voice went on. "You always were a coward when it came to sharing your feelings. You know that you can't have a true friendship if the trust is only one sided? Let me help you.

"I can't say that I've been there or that I understand because the truth is that I probably haven't been where you are and that I don't have the experiences that you carry trapped around in that prison you call your consciousness. But you want to know the funny part? It doesn't matter. You hear that John? I don't need to have your demons to be able to relate and to help you. I only need to be willing to listen and allow you to find your own answers. Cause you're the only one that has them.

"So quit this selfish self-sacrifice crap that you insist on portraying and talk to me."

Each word was like a small spear point that chipped away at his carefully constructed façade of a happy-go-lucky flyboy without a care in the world. The words threatened to tear through his shield and release the flood gates. It was so appealing. To open up right there and then. To lay bare his soul, in all its dark glory, but he couldn't do it. His mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish thrust from its watery environment into the air-infested atmosphere of non-aquatic life. It hurt too much to continue to carry his ill-gotten burden, but it hurt even more to release it and risk dampening another soul with his dark deeds. So doing the only thing that he could, Sheppard turned and fled the confrontation.

Rodney slowly lowered his eyes and shook his head once before turning himself and disappearing into the empty corridors of Atlantis.

With a sudden jerk, Sheppard's eyelids flew open. He was soaked in sweat and his heart threatened to pushed its way out through his chest. The memory had been so vivid that Sheppard felt he could have turned around and touched Rodney. Why hadn't he just talked to him? Maybe things would have been different then. Now Rodney was gone and another black slash cut its way across his heart and into his pain.

He had pushed away his best friend for fear of scaring him away with the weight of his anguish and now the chance was forever gone. He'd never get to hear his petty whining again or his excuses for why they need to talk 20 MREs on a half-day trip through the gate. The Answer man would no more be there to solve the impossible or supply a witty retort when others had long stopped listening to him. He was gone and with him, went John's chance to unburden his soul in an effort to reclaim his life.

In the shadows of the infirmary, a solitary figure looked out at the Major as his fought his inner demons. "Let the memories come, for only within their depths lie the answers," whispered the figured before it turned and melted into the background of the infirmary.

TBC