Many thanks again! You guys are going to give me a big head if you keep this up. Of course, feel free to keep this up.

Mandykerr - if you can get Sheppard to massage my back (or even appear before me for a minute), I'll write till I have no skin on my fingers and I drop from exhaustion. That's a promise!

Yes, everyone, I promise, Kavanagh will get his in the end. I'm not sure if it will be enough to satisfy the blood lust currently raging through the reviews, but he will regret his actions. Of course, who knows, he may not be exactly finished yet. Guess we'll have to wait and see. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Cruel and all that. Whatever. Read on...

Chapter 8

Elizabeth sat beside Sheppard's bed, gently holding his left hand in hers. She was careful of the IV entering the side of his forearm just under the thumb. A band-aid remained across the back of his hand where he had ripped the IV out trying to climb out of the bed two days before. She gently rubbed her index finger across the fading marks on his palms, injuries inflicted by his fingernails as he clenched his fist tightly a week earlier. That seemed like an eternity ago. A solid week of misery and wondering how this had happened. She felt the warmth of his hand in hers and found it strangely reassuring. The only sounds in the room were the steady whoosh of the respirator and the beeping of the heart monitor, both a reminder that John was still alive. Carson had told her over the past two days how his vital signs were becoming stronger and more regular as the toxin level in his blood dropped. But he was still very weak, unable to breathe on his own. That scared her. After days of restless torment in which he was in 24 hour motion, he was now still and quiet. She had prayed for this stillness, and yet it scared her too. He was so pale, except for the dark circles under his eyes where he had gone days without any sleep. She could only imagine how exhausted he must be. She gently ran her hand up his forearm, feeling the slight tremble coursing through his muscles like power through a power line. Carson had told her his muscles were still firing constantly, just at a much lower level and a much slower pace. - enough lower that he could sleep.

She looked up to see Carson walk up and start his routine check of Sheppard and the machines monitoring him and keeping him alive. He nodded to her and began to check the respirator, followed by a quick check of the monitor. "The arhythmia has almost corrected itself. Looks like we won't have to worry about permanent damage to his heart. I just checked his latest blood workup. The toxin has dropped to almost nothin'. He should make a complete recovery."

"What about the respirator?"

"He's gettin' stronger. He's not ready for me to wean him off yet, though. He's still pretty weak. I'd say another twenty-four...maybe forty-eight hours at the most. I'll just have to see how he does." He smiled down at Elizabeth, holding Sheppard's hand so tenderly. "He's goin' to be fine. The worst is over."

Elizabeth's expression darkened. "That's what we said the last time. I assured John that everything was okay and then...this." She waved her hand toward the machinery.

"Aye, lass, I know. But this time you have a marine posted twenty-fours hours a day on guard and I have someone directly with him at all times. He's being watched by two sets of eyes. We have him protected...he's safe. This time, it really is over."

"I hope you're right Carson. The next thing we need to do is get to work on who did this. Rest assured, they will NOT get away with this. Where's Sherlock Holmes when you need him? I just want to..." Elizabeth suddenly turned and looked at John. "Carson, he squeezed my hand!" Elizabeth and Carson each moved up to the side of the bed and leaned over to see Sheppard's face better, carefully peering around the ventilator tube. Sure enough, his eyes were trying to open.

Elizabeth kept a hold on his hand, partly to let him know she was there and partly to keep him for reaching for the tube in his throat, a reflexive action she knew he would take. Thinking the same thing, Carson took hold of his other hand.

"Major Sheppard? Go ahead and open your eyes, son. Elizabeth and I are here and I think she's been missing you."

Elizabeth's face reddened slightly as Carson grinned at her. She gave him her best "I'll tend to you later" look and then focused her attention on John. His eyes were open now and he was beginning to struggle, fear in his eyes. He was disoriented and didn't yet realize why he felt like he was choking. "Calm down, John. It's okay. You stopped breathing and Carson had to intubate. You're on a ventilator to help you breathe, Just relax and go with it. You've done this before...you're okay...I promise."

Sheppard was watching her and she thought she saw a look of understanding cross his face. Slowly, he stopped struggling against them, but she thought she still saw fear in his eyes...a desperate, haunted fear. Guilt washed over her as she remembered telling him before that the pain was over, only to have it come back stronger. He didn't trust that the pain was gone for good.

"John, it really is over this time. Someone has been poisoning you. We have you under twenty-four hour guard to make sure we don't have a repeat of what happened last time. You really are safe. I promise you, we won't let it happen again." Sheppard squeezed her hand to let her know he understood, but she couldn't miss that fact that he still seemed worried.

"All right, major, I need to ask you a couple of quick questions. I know you can't speak, lad, so blink once for yes and twice for no. Are you in pain?" Two blinks. "Okay, I know I can still feel muscle tremors runnin' through ya, are those causing ya pain?" John hesitated, then two blinks. "I'm guessin' they are uncomfortable, then." One blink. "Are you havin' any other problems?" Two blinks. Beckett nodded and smiled, placing a firm hand on the major's shoulder. "Good then. Major, I'm expecting a full recovery, but it's goin' to take a while. You're very weak. I expect I'll keep ya on the respirator another day or two till you're stronger."

Sheppard frowned and looked more than a little panicked. Beckett smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry lad. The drug is almost gone from your system. I think it'll be safe to sedate you until I can take you off the ventilator. You won't feel a thing." True to his word, Beckett pulled a syringe he had prepared earlier from his coat pocket and injected it into the IV port. Sheppard briefly squeezed Elizabeth's hand again and she squeezed back. They locked eyes until his eyelids began to close and his grip on her hand slowly went slack.

"Sleep, John. We'll watch over you until you're better." Elizabeth looked over at Beckett. "I'm guessing he'll be out for a while."

"I'll probably keep him under until we take him off the ventilator. He's been through enough this past week. I sure don't want him awake with a tube down his throat. I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

Elizabeth nodded, obviously struggling with something. "Okay...Carson, I've got to go do some work. I'm so far behind now, I'll probably never catch up as it is. Will you let me know if there's any change?"

"Aye lass, but I wouldn't worry. He just needs some rest and some time to heal. I'll call if anythin' happens though."

"Okay." She stood there watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as the ventilator whooshed beside him. Then, suddenly, she turned and walked out of the infirmary before she had time to talk herself out of it.

Sheppard drifted to consciousness slowly, at first only aware of faint sounds somewhere in the distance. As the sounds drifted closer, he realized they were voices. Gradually he came to recognize who the voices belonged to and what they were saying. His team was there, surrounding him, supporting him. Suddenly, he tensed, waiting for the pain. It wasn't there. He could feel small tremors occasionally dart across a muscle, but the clenching, mind-numbing pain was gone.

"Hey look, I think he's waking up." Ford sounded like a kid at a birthday party watching the guest of honor open the present he brought. If he hadn't been so bone-tired, he might have smiled. At the moment he was trying to pry his eyes open and not having much luck. He felt hands on him, his shoulder, his arm, his leg. His team was connecting to him, letting him know they were there. He finally got one eye open a crack and then, upon further work, the other. He was relieved to find he could breathe - no more tube in his throat. He hated that feeling, like you were choking to death and couldn't take in any air. He'd have to remember to thank Beckett for the knock-out juice. He just wished he could have gotten some sooner.

"Hey you, it's about time." Had to be Elizabeth. He pried his eyes open a little wider. The smile on her face sent a flush of warmth through him, making his hands tingle.

He tried to reply, but was only successful in making a garbled croaking sound. His throat was dry and sore from the ventilator tube. The gift that keeps on giving. Teyla lifted his head slightly as Elizabeth held a straw to his lips. He drank until she pulled the cup away. "Not too much. We don't want you wearing that in a little while."

God, no. He didn't want that. He distinctly remembered vomiting many times in the last...however long it had been. He didn't want to go that direction again for a while. He tried talking again. "How...long?"

He caught the nervous expression on Elizabeth's face as she debated what to tell him. "Ten days...since the beginning." Ten days. He'd lost ten days...spent most of it in hell. He closed his eyes, processing the information. He really hadn't had any concept of time. Although it had felt like forever, he had secretly hoped it wasn't ...maybe just a couple of days in reality. Ten days.

"Major?" He looked up to find Beckett hovering over him, looking concerned. When did he get here? He must have dozed off for a second.

"Hey, doc." Sheppard had barely managed a hoarse whisper.

"How are you feeling?" Sheppard felt like an aritfact on display. His team stood around Beckett, hanging on every word. He wanted to see them and talk to them, but he wanted them to go away at the same time. He yearned to be alone and deal with the aftermath of what had happened, and yet he was terrified to be alone. But then, that wasn't what Beckett was asking.

"I'm good. A little tired...a little sore. Really thirsty." His voice was starting to come back a little stronger. At least Beckett didn't have to press his ear to Sheppard's face to hear him any more.

"Aye. You'll be experiencing that for several days as you recover. How are the muscle tremors?"

"There...but not bad. They kind of...flit around a bit."

The team watched as Beckett checked Sheppard's vitals and listened with the stethoscope. He then checked the IV line, heart monitor, and the nasal cannula that had replaced the respirator. Throughout the exam, he was asking Sheppard questions to ascertain the major's condition and alertness. Satisfied, he finally stood back and hung his stethoscope over his shoulders. "You're looking good, major." Beckett looked around at the visitors. "He's still recovering and still very weak, so don't stay too long. He needs his rest. I'll check back with you in a little while and throw you out if need be." Glancing at Elizabeth, he said, "You can give him a little water every little bit, just not too much at one time. Make him take it slow."

Elizabeth nodded. "We'll take care of him."

"I'm sure you will, lass." No one but Elizabeth saw him wink at her before he left.

Sheppard was a little more awake now and started trying to sit up more. Elizabeth and Teyla both instictively put their hands on his shoulder, holding him still. "Hang on, there. You're supposed to be resting. That's why these beds can be propped up, you know. Let us handle it." Elizabeth nodded to Teyla, who helped her bring the top of the bed to a semi-sitting position. It was less than the forty-five degree angle Sheppard would have preferred because the women didn't want him falling over if he went to sleep. He grunted slightly as they moved him and closed his eyes.

"John?" After a moment he opened his eyes again. "Are you okay? Should we put the bed back down?" He could see the worry in Elizabeth's face.

"I'm fine. Just sore and ...a little dizzy for a minute. I'm okay now. How about a little more water?"

Elizabeth nodded and held the cup while he drank. Once again, she removed it long before he was ready. He was too tired to argue with her. He looked up at McKay, who'd been strangely silent. Watching him, he noticed McKay was looking at the floor, the wall, his feet...anywhere but at Sheppard. Sheppard wondered briefly if he was angry with him for some reason.

"Hey, major! Did Teyla tell you about kicking butt on M3P-449?" asked Ford, grinning like a kid again.

"No, she didn't. Teyla?"

Teyla looked at Ford, somewhat annoyed. "I was only defending myself. I was not trying to...kick butt."

"Oh, you should have seen it major. We went with SGA-3 to the planet to make contact with the natives and try to work out a trade. This really rude big guy kept hitting on Teyla and she kept telling him nicely that she wasn't interested. After a while, he decides to get physical and wraps his arm around her and grabs her by the boo...I...mean the...chest...and Teyla flips him over her shoulder and has her knife at this throat before the dude could take a breath. It was awesome."

Teyla narrowed her eyes and slid them sideways at Ford in a look that told him he'd probably said too much. That was when Ford remembered that Teyla could alsokick his butt...and quite effectively.

Sheppard tried a small smile, but it wasn't very convincing. He wasn't sure if it was because he was tired, because he thought Rodney was mad at him, or because he felt tense with worry. He knew there was no reason to worry...yet he had this sense of dread. He was afraid...afraid it would start again. Afraid it would catch him off guard and suddenly double him over just when he thought he was safe. He looked at the marine standing at the door. He knew he was safe and yet he didn't feel safe. He wasn't sure at this point if he would ever feel safe again.

"John, are you all right?" He shifted his gaze to Elizabeth.

"Uh...what? I'm sorry...guess I kind of drifted for a minute. Still kind of hard to concentrate."

Elizabeth patted his hand. "It's okay. We should let you rest."

"Wait...did you find out...do you know who was poisoning me?" He looked at her hopefully and she would have given anything to have been able to tell him yes.

"No...we don't know yet. But I promise, we will. We're not even sure where the poison...or toxin... or whatever it was, came from. Kavanagh analyzed it for us and even he didn't have a clue. He thinks it may have contained one or more elements that are new to us. I think he's still trying to figure it out."

Sheppard looked amazed. "Kavanagh helped? You obviously didn't tell him it was for me." Sheppard knew the man's lowly opinion of him and the other soldiers. He suspected he held a special place on the "useless and annoying soldier" list the man kept in his head.

Elizabeth smiled. "Carson sweet-talked him into it. Our doctor is a closet diplomat, it seems."

"Not likely," muttered McKay.

"What's that, Rodney?" asked Sheppard. McKay still would not make eye contact with him.

At that time, Beckett strolled back across the room. "Are you people still here? Exactly what part of he needs his rest did you not understand? Now, shoo...the lot of you." Beckett motioned towards the door to the infirmary as if they were a swarm of flies he was trying to move toward the hallway.

"Rodney?" called Sheppard. McKay stopped, but didn't turn around.

Beckett started to protest, but changed his mind when he saw the look on Sheppard's face. "You've got five minutes," he whispered to Rodney as the ushered the rest of the group out of the infirmary.

"I'm sorry Rodney." McKay finally looked at Sheppard and noticed how really tired he looked. His eyelids were starting to droop and he was kind of listing to one side.

"Oh for heaven's sake, you're sagging. Let's get you back down." He hurriedly made his way to the head of the bed and returned it to a horizontal position. He shifted Sheppard over to the center of the bed because he honestly didn't think the major had the energy to do it himself.

"Thanks," said Sheppard softly.

"Why are you sorry? You beat all I ever saw. You've been cooped up in here either in agony or unconscious on a respirator for ten days because someone poisoned you and you're telling me you're sorry. I don't even pretend to understand that." Rodney threw his hands in the air toemphasize his confusion.

Sheppard continued to look at McKay, his eyes unwavering. "I'm sorry for the whole thing in the hall. I know it kind of freaked you out. I really tried to hold it together until we got to the infirmary...I just...couldn't." Sheppard hated admitting defeat.

McKay dropped into the chair next to the bed and looked at Sheppard. "You think I'm mad at you? I'm not mad at you, you idiot. I was scared. I've never seen anything like that...and I just felt so darn helpless. You needed help...and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out how to do it. I couldn't even figure out who poisoned you. I'm not mad at you...I'm mad at me because you needed me and I failed you."

"Rodney, last time I checked, your doctorate wasn't in medicine or criminology. You've saved all our hides on more occasions that I care to think about. You always do what you can. Some things are just out of your reach. This may be hard to take, but McKay...you're not God."

Sheppard saw a brief smile before McKay put his hand to his face in mock horror and replied, "Oh, say it ain't so."

McKay put his hand down to see Sheppard's eyes were almost closed, a small smile on his face. Maybe they would both be okay after all.

TBC

The good news is that it's not a cliffhanger for once. The bad news is that the next few days look really packed, so it may be next week before I can update. Hey, at least I didn't leave you with him in cardiac arrest or something. Enjoy (I hope).