Big note of thanks to all of you. I absolutely could not have made it this far without you. I love this place. We're getting there. I just tend to take the scenic path. Guess you kind of figured that out.

Out of Phase - I'm not familiar with "Must be Thursday", but I'll be looking for it.

Chapter 19

Sheppard was exhausted by the time Heightmeyer left. His head was now throbbing so badly that his vision had grayed around the edges and he was starting to feel nauseous again. Slight muscle tremors fleeted through his body, a now familiar reaction to stress. He rolled over on his side and curled up in a ball, afraid to fall asleep. It seemed like every time he went to sleep, he was jolted awake by nightmares or muscle cramps. Thoughts of the last nighmare danced across his mind as he saw himself bringing the gun up to head, felt the cold metal against the temple, and then the burst of pain as the bullet entered. In his dream, he died, so he didn't think any of it was an actual memory. Unfortunately, that didn't make it any less frightening or horrifying. He shivered, suddenly cold, and pulled the blanket up to his chin. He just wanted it all to go away. He couldn't understand why he was having such a hard time putting this behind him. He closed his eyes and bowed his head down into his chest, partially covering his face with the covers.

As Sheppard was curling into himself, Beckett, Heightmeyer, and Weir were meeting his Beckett's office. Weir closed the door as she entered. This conversation was for them only.

She took a seat by Heightmeyer. "What can you tell me?" They could both see the worry on her face.

"It's going to take a while. Just like his physical recuperation, his mental one won't happen overnight either. Nightmares and depression appear to be a current problem, but that's to be expected. He seems to be having a particularly hard time with the shooting incident. I don't think he remembers it, and probably never will due to the head injury, but he's fabricated a likeness of the event in his mind. He's...basically horrified by it. The major has fought his way back from death kicking and screaming so many times that he can't fathom the thought of taking his own life under any circumstances. He worries so much about failing everyone else...and now he feels that he's failed himself as well."

"I take it he's not a danger to himself then?" asked Elizabeth.

"I don't think so. I think it may be a while before he can even pick up a gun. Although the shooting is the biggest problem, there are also issues with the days and days of being trapped, basically alone, in a world of umimaginable pain. Carson...I have some bad news for you."

Beckett looked grim, knowing what Heightmeyer was going to say before she said it. "He knew, didn't he?"

Heightmeyer nodded. "Not on a conscious level. He just knows that at some point, the pain seemed to become even more unbearable because he felt like he was choking and he couldn't move. His way of coping with the intense cramps was to move the muscle with the cramp to get it to amore manageablelevel...and he said at some point he felt like he was being held down...like he couldn't move. He..."

They sat in silence for a moment. "Just say it," Beckett said.

"He...thought maybe he lost his mind during that time. He said a part of him checked out...and he thinks maybe it's gone for good. I don't believe that...but he does. We're going to have to work to get the old John Sheppard back...and we have to face the fact that he may never be completely the same. It's a little early to tell...but I think we need to be on the lookout for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He's showing some of the signs - the detachment, nightmares, trouble sleeping. It's too early to tell if it will escalate to that. We have to give him some time to deal with it. I just think we need to watch and keep that in mind. If he goes that direction, the sooner we catch it and start treatment, the better the chance of recovery."

They nodded. "What can we do for now?" asked Elizabeth.

"Encourage him to talk about it and share how he feels, but without pushing. Provide support. Don't act disappointed in him because of the way he's dealing with things or because of the shooting. Try to shift discussions to less stressful subjects if he seems to be getting too distressed. Just be there for him. He needs to know he's still needed and trusted." They nodded. "I'd like to speak to him a few more times. I really got more out of him than I thought I would. I think I may have caught him off guard and when he wasn't feeling very well, but that worked to my advantage. I doubt that will happen again."

Elizabeth nodded. "Talk to him as much as you feel necessary. I can make it an order if I need to. He knows he can't get clearance for the gate or active duty without agreement from all three of us. If push comes to shove, I'm not afraid of using that card. It's not like I haven't used it before." She turned to Carson. "How's the physical recovery coming?"

"He's makin' progress. He's till very weak, but he's eatin' again, so that should help...that is when he keeps it down."

"Wait...what's going on?" asked Elizabeth, worried.

Beckett sighed. "When I took Kate to see the major, he was just waking up from a nightmare. I guess it shook him up pretty good, because he promptly gave up his last meal. I'm hoping that was an isolated incident."

"Okay...is there anything else?" Elizabeth stood up to leave as Beckett and Heightmeyer shook their head. "I...think I'll just look in on him before I leave. Let me know if you think of anything else." Beckett and Heightmeyer looked at each other and smiled.

Elizabeth walked quietly over to John's little corner and peered around the curtain to see John curled up on his side, facing away from her. She suspected he was asleep and almost turned and left. But she didn't. Finally, she walked slowly around the bed and sat down in "Rodney's chair". As she had suspected, he was asleep, but it was a fitful sleep at best. She could see small muscle twitches in his face and hands as he mumbled softly and incoherently. She briefly wondered if she should wake him. Instead, she just sat and watched him, content that she would be there if he woke and needed her. An hour later, he finally fell into a peaceful slumber, the mumbling and twitching now gone. Elizabeth stood, gently stroked his cheek with the back of her hand, and headed for her office, thinking about the nice pile of work waiting on her desk.

-------------------------------------------

Sheppard woke to a throbbing headache and the taste of old vomit. So not a good way to wake up. He tried to suspend the strong gag reflex that tickled its way into the back of his throat and ended up in the throws of a coughing fit. He struggled to sit up and catch his breath through the coughing while simultaneously trying to get his eyes open. This day just kept getting worse and worse...if indeed it was still the same day. He felt hands helping him sit up and after a minute, the coughing subsided and he could breathe again. About the time he finally got his eyes open, McKay had a straw to his lips. He started to take the cup from McKay, but realized that his hands were shaking so badly he would undoubtedly spill water everywhere. Not feeling strong enough for another shower, he let McKay continue to hold the cup while he drank.

"Thanks, McKay," he said when he was through, his voice sounding low and hoarse in his ears. "Really bad taste in my mouth."

McKay snorted. "Probably left over from that mess they fed you for breakfast."

Sheppard nodded and gave a small smile. "In a way...that's exactly what it was."

"How are ya feelin' lad?" Beckett stood on the other side of the bed from McKay, the other set of helping hands. Now that Sheppard was finished drinking and had stopped coughing, Beckett helped him ease back down against the pillows. He had raised the head of the bed somewhat so that Sheppard was sitting.

"A lot better now that I can breathe. Still got that headache." He closed his eyes a second and massaged his temples gently. being extra careful to avoid actually touching the scar beginning on his right temple.

"Aye, I was afraid of that, so I brought ya somethin'." Sheppard looked up and Beckett handed him a pill. "It's a mega-ibuprofen. I think it will help. Are you hungry?"

Sheppard made a face, frowning at the sour taste still in his mouth. "Not really...but I might could get something down." Rodney was back with the cup of water so Sheppard could take the pain reliever.

Beckett nodded his approval. "You really need to eat somethin' if ya can, lad. You missed lunch and breakfast didn't exactly stay with ya. I'll send out for somethin'. What about you, Rodney?"

"You're actually offering? Wow, I'm flattered. But...no...I ate before I came back. Well...wait...maybe just a little something to tide me over. No telling how long I'll be here and all. Just have them get me a tray...you know...in case my blood sugar drops or something."

Beckett looked at Sheppard and sighed. He was glad to see the major smile back at him, nodding in understanding. "Fine, Rodney, I'll have them bring you a tray." Beckett turned and left. They heard him talking to someone a minute later, and then Ford and Teyla showed up in the "doorway".

"Hey, sir. Glad to see you're awake. We stopped by earlier, but you were napping."

Sheppard thought about that for a second. "Napping. That either sounds like I'm really old or really young."

McKay snorted. "Behavior wise, I'd go for really young. But compared to Ford, here, it's more like really old. Take your pick."

Sheppard rolled his eyes in exasperation. "McKay, I wasn't asking for opinions on the matter." Sheppard flung the covers back and started scooting to the edge of the bed, as if to get up. McKay leaped to his feet as Ford and Teyla looked concerned.

"Hold on, big guy, exactly what do you think you're doing?"

Sheppard sat on the edge of the bed, McKay and Ford standing in front of him as if to block his way. "Get a grip, McKay, I'm not making a break for it or anything. I've ...gotta go...you know."

"Oh," said McKay, as he realized what Sheppard was doing. "Well, let us help you up at least." He and Ford each grabbed an arm. They held onto him a few seconds as he got his legs balanced beneath him. Steady, he pushed their arms away and started forward.

"I'm good. I've got it." They watched him shuffle tiredly to the restroom, resisting the urge to follow closely behind him. McKay knew he needed to start doing things for himself. He felt like a parent turning their toddler loose to bump around on their own for the first time. This is so sad, he thought. He was just about ready to go check on Sheppard when the door opened and the major shuffled back out and toward the trio watching him.

McKay couldn't resist a jab. "So, you DID remember to wash your hands, right?"

"Funny, McKay. No, I did not wash my hands just so I could go through and touch all the food on your tray. I'm sure you'll get E. coli or something worse." The trio watched Sheppard struggle to make the last few steps without help, but he did it. Each one of them smiled at the small victory. As Sheppard got settled in the bed and looked up, he noticed their expressions. "What is with you guys? You're grinning like the Cheshire cat. Did I miss something?"

"No major," said Teyla. "We are all just glad to have you back."

-------------------------------------------------------

Sheppard looked up from his book to find both Carson Beckett and Nick Strauhan approaching his bed. He closed the book and looked from one to the other, trying to read their expressions. Usually when he had both men attending him it was because he was in cardiac arrest or something equally as fun, so he was just a little nervous.

"Uh, guys...what's going on?" he asked nervously.

Beckett smiled and waved his hand at him. "Relax, major. Nothing bad. We just wanted to run something by you. What happened to Rodney?" Beckett asked, looking around the small cubicle. His eyes landed on Sheppard's half-eaten tray of food, causing Sheppard to wince. He'd been caught.

"I told him to leave. He can't stay here forever and I don't really need a babysitter any more. I told him we needed to try to get back to some kind of a normal life...well, him anyway. I can't do that till I get out of here. I don't guess you have any projections on when that might be, do you?"

"No, but it'll be a while yet. I can tell ya that it'll be faster if ya eat more that half a tray at a time." Beckett nodded his head toward the tray that had been pushed aside earlier.

Sheppard closed his eyes and rubbed them, longing for the day when he didn't need help going to the bathroom or deciding how much food he would eat. "Judgement call. I figured half a tray of mush...er, food ...that stayed down was better than a whole tray of food that had a round trip ticket. And believe me, that's where I was headed." He put his hand down and looked at Beckett, who nodded. Thank goodness, that battle was over. "So...what'd you want to run by me?"

Carson nodded at Nick, giving him the floor. "We've been talking about the residual muscle spasms and cramps you've been having. I was thinking about some things a physical therapist friend of mine told me..."

"Am I interrupting?" They all looked up to see Elizabeth standing the the "doorway", curious expression on her face.

"No, come on in. The doctors were just about to share some information with me and, to be perfectly honest, this tag team approach has me a little nervous. I could use a little back-up." Sheppard waved his hand at the vacant seat on the other side of the bed.

"I'd be happy to oblige." She sat in the chair and smiled warmly at John. His stomach settled a little and some of the nervousness fell away as watched her. Part of him wanted to reach out and take her hand, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Okay, doc, you were saying." He looked back at the doctors.

Nick continued. "A physical therapist friend told me that repeated muscle stress can cause a build-up of lactic acid that causes calcification or muscle knots. Some people think this can harbor body toxins and release them periodically, causing muscle problems. The calcium in the muscle can keep the muscle kind of turned on, which can be very painful. I'd say you've had a traumatic version of muscle stress. A lot of it is just soreness from the repeated hard contractions of the muscles, but these calcified knots, if they are forming, can cause other problems. We think we can work on those, as well as the general soreness, at the same time."

"Ooo-kaay, so what do we do?" Sheppard asked.

"Some regular light exercise, starting with just a small walk around the room a few times a day. We'll build the walks and some other exercises to lightly, and I stress lightly, get the muscles moving. A series of massages during the day will work out some of the tension and can start getting rid of some of the tight places and developing knots. Proper diet once we have you on solid food. Drink lots of water. You're going to be flushing metabolic toxins from your system, so I want you to drink several glasses of water a day."

Sheppard grimaced. "Well, there's your light walking. A trip to the bathroom every 30 minutes should cover that pretty well. Is that it?"

Nick nodded. "For now. It's not going to make them stop immediately, but hopefully we'll taper off at a consistant, regular interval. I think it will speed up the recovery process. Now all we have to do is find you a masseuse. We didn't bring any physical therapy people with us - didn't seem necessary at the time."

"Uh, I think I can help with that," said Elizabeth.

"Oh, yeah. The lady has the magic touch, that's for sure."

Beckett and Strauhan raised their eyebrows as they looked at one another, surprise on their faces.

"Nothing like that!" said Sheppard. "My back and neck were stiff this morning and she massaged them for me. Little piece of heaven, I've got to tell you." He smiled, remembering the comfort in her touch and wanting to return its pleasure.

"All right, then," said Beckett. "I think we have a volunteer."

"Good," replied Nick. "I'll work on a schedule tonight and maybe we can start really trying to get you back on your feet tomorrow." The two doctors stood up and nodded at the two, smiles on their faces because now they had a plan to help their patient. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks doc and doc," said Sheppard, his smile returning. He turned back to Elizabeth to find her watching him.

"And just what are you looking at?" he asked.

"Your smile. I haven't seen it much lately. I kind of missed it."

"I'm working on it," he said sheepishly. "I know I've a ways to go...but I'm working on it...I really am."

"I know you are...just don't give up. Hey, nothing says you have to wait until tomorrow. Want another go with the magic fingers?" She grinned and winked, wiggling her fingers at him.

Sheppard's smile returned. "You won't have to ask me that twice." He turned over on his stomach and got comfortable while she moved in close beside him. As soon as her hands began working on his shoulders and neck, he felt sweet release. He could almost see the tension letting go as she firmly worked each muscle before moving on to the next. His muscles were so sore that the kneading action rode that precarious border between pain and pleasure, always just edging out on the side of pleasure. He found himself focusing on each finger motion...the release in each muscle. His mind began to drift as the relaxation spread throughout his upper body and he found himself riding waves once again...but these weren't waves of pain... and he let go...letting them carry him far away.

TBC