My lower jaw just hit the floor. Four hundred reviews. Wow. I think this will fit nicely under the heading "Best Lifetime Experiences". You guys are so totally awesome and MANY THANKS! Now - I don't know if this is good news or bad news, but I've had a few suggestions that I liked and I kind of got my second wind on this thing and I think we may go a few more chapters. Yesterday I was thinking this would be the last chapter, but then my mind ran amuck. I promise this will end...just not today.

Warning: If you don't like Sheppard/Weir stuff, you might want to skip down to the first dotted line. I couldn't help myself.

Rogue1503-I couldn't have done it without you. Thanks for all your support, suggestions, help, and for listening to my incessant whining about not knowing what to do. In other words, thanks for keeping me sane (well, almost sane).

Chapter 20

John Sheppard was pretty sure he had never been this tired in his entire life. Beckett and Strauhan had worked him hard the last two days and the exhaustion was catching up to him. He was thoroughly convinced that both men were possessed by demons intent on torturing him every way possible. After discussing their thoughts on his recovery two days before, they had spent the better part of the night planning Sheppard's physical therapy. He had heard them talking excitedly like they had discovered the cure for cancer or something equally as impressive. The next day they had held him to rigid schedule of walking, exercises, and massages. He would do exercises to work his lower body in the morning, followed by a massage for those muscles. After lunch he worked muscles in the upper body and then Elizabeth massaged those muscles. The next day, they switched the order. They worked the muscles in groups and took him on short walks between the workouts. Every time he got a break from the activities, they were shoving food or water in front of him or someone was there to "have a talk" with him. Sprinkle in the mix about a thousand trips to the bathroom, and that just about summed up his day. The good thing was that he had been so exhausted last night that he had slept all night - something highly unusual for him at any time, much less lately. He knew he still had to make it through one more thing tonight, but his eyelids were getting unusually heavy and he felt himself beginning to drift off.

"John?" He snapped his eyes open to see Elizabeth smiling at him.

"Hey! Just dozing a second. I think even my hair is tired." He placed his hand over his mouth as he yawned.

"We have one more date today."

"I'm too tired to move. Maybe we could just skip this one. I won't tell if you won't."

Elizabeth had to admit, he did look tired. "I'm not risking the wrath of Carson or Nick. Those guys are like a couple of kids with new toys."

Sheppard nodded slightly. "Tell me about it. I'm the one having to live with it. They keep talking about writing a paper and presenting it and I'm thinking, who would you present it to? I just wish they'd calm down before they kill me. If I wasn't so tired, I'd be planning an escape."

Elizabeth chuckled. "It wouldn't do any good. They'd just hunt you down. I think we work on lower body tonight. I can start with the front of your legs if you want so you won't have to move for a few minutes."

Sheppard sighed. "Doesn't make me any difference, as long as I don't have to move. I don't think it matters much where you start. They don't seem too picky about form, just on keeping their schedule and drowning me in fluids. I've never drank so much in my whole life. So are you assigned to get me to talk, too, or just to the massage?"

"Just the massage."

John looked relieved. "Good. I'm about talked out. Teyla, Ford, and McKay have all been here with their gentle, yet probing questions. And then there's Kate Heightmeyer."

"You know they're just trying to help, don't you?" she inquired.

"Yeah, I know. That's the only reason I'm not furious. Let's not talk about it any more. Let's just do the massage thing so I can go to sleep. I'm about too pooped to pop."

Elizabeth moved over to the right side of the bed, looking a little uncomfortable. She was only used to giving friends or family massages of the neck, shoulders, and back. Nick and Carson hadher working on most of John's body and it made her nervous. They had given her some material to read on techniques designed to relieve stress and tension and she was glad to find that it included most of what she did anyway, as well as some additional methods she had been unfamiliar with. She was trying to follow the instructions in the articles about the proper way to work the muscles. This was strictly to help John's muscles recover from the trauma of the past few weeks as well as the physical therapy sessions they were putting him through. And yet there was something very personal about what she was doing...especially since there had been an attraction between them almost from the very beginning. The feel of his muscles beneath her hands was almost electrical in nature and she was just a little afraid of it.

Sensing her nervousness, John reached out and put his hand on her arm, smiling. "Thanks for doing this for me. I know you're really busy and you're probably getting hopelessly behind running down here several times a day. I guess I'll owe you a big one."

"Hardly. Not as many times as you've saved my life, not to mention saving Atlantis a few times as well. I'm just glad I can actually make a contribution for once instead of just sitting on the sidelines. Besides, it gives me a chance to spend time with you...uh,...you know...since we're friends."

John gave her the lop-sided grin that she had come to love and she felt a warmth flowing through her and rushing up to her face. "Uh...okay...let's get started then."

Looking down and avoiding his gaze, she gently began kneading the muscles in his upper right thigh. She had been working only a few minutes when her arm accidently brushed against his groin and she jerked back, embarrassment coloring her face. "Oh...sorry..." She quickly moved her hands farther down his thigh, closer to the knee and concentrated with all her might. She could feel the droplets of sweat beginning to run down her back as she carefully avoided his eyes.

Sheppard, in the meantime, was putting his own version of the avoidance game into play. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes and tried not to think about the firm touch of her hands as they worked circular patterns into his thigh muscles. He could smell her and it was making him almost dizzy. Not perfume. It must be her soap or her shampoo - a clean, vibrant, yet subtle smell with an almost inperceptible hint of some kind of flower. He breathed it in deeply...he breathed her in deeply. Since when had the infirmary been hot? He usually froze when he was stuck in here and yet he could feel the thin film of sweat on his brow. He was trying to decide whether to let her continue or not when he felt the tremor begin in the muscles of his inner right thigh. Oh crap, here we go again, he thought. The muscle suddenly tightened and he jerked forward as he pulled his leg up and away from Elizabeth, trying to rub the tight, clamping contractions out of his thigh.

Elizabeth was startled at first, but soon figured out what was going on. She batted John's hands away and began working the muscle in earnest. She could feel the muscle spasm beneath her hands as she pressed firmly into it, trying to work the tightness out. He groaned a little and pressed his back into the bed, trying not to pull away from her as she worked to relieve the pain burning through his thigh. Little by little, he felt the spasm lighten and the muscle begin to relax. He hadn't realized how hard he had been breathing until now. His pulse didn't begin to slow just yet though...Elizabeth was still rubbing the muscles in his thigh.

"Elizabeth..." She paused at the sound of his voice, low and soft and so...different. She stopped her motions, realizing that the spasm had calmed, and turned to look at him. She sat on the edge of the bed, next to his side, looking at his eyes. The same eyes that she had earlier avoiding looking into. She wondered what color they really were. Sometimes they looked green, sometimes gray, and sometimes hazel. She had somehow never noticed how utterly fascinating they were.

"Elizabeth...you're going to have to stop now," he said quietly. "I ...I can't do this any more."

"Hmmmmm," she whispered. "Neither can I."

They sat looking at each other for several minutes. Neither knew what to say...neither wanted the moment to end. She instinctively reached up and cradled the side of his face in her hand, relishing the touch of his skin against hers. Her breath caught in her throat and her mind screamed at her to run...to run before it was too late to take it back. Run before she crossed a line that would forever change things between them. And yet, she couldn't move. She found it hard to even breathe. So she didn't pull away when he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close with a strength that surprised her. He stopped with their faces just inches apart, his eyes locked onto hers. She could hear his breath coming almost as heavy and labored as her own and felt him tremble sightly against her. He was just as scared as she was and she took comfort in that thought.

She closed her eyes and they slowly drew closer, his lips lightly brushing hers. He pulled back a little and looked at her again, his eyes asking if she was sure. She traced his lips with her index finger, noticing every feature of his face. She had looked at his face a thousand times over the past few months, and yet this felt like the first time she had actually seen it. She had known this moment was inevitable for some time, and yet still part of her screamed to stop...to go back. But in her heart she knew it was already too late and there was no turning back. Sensing her acceptance, he leaned forward and kissed her, wrapping both arms around her as she embraced him back. After a few moments, she pulled away and lay her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as he held her.

"We can't do this, you know," she stated simply, her head still resting against his chest.

"I know." She was relieved to find there was no surprise in his voice. They both knew full well what they're responsibilities were and how important they were to the survival of Atlantis. They had allowed themselves a brief...fantasy. But they were both painfully aware that, for now, that was all it could be.

He lay there after she left, wishing there was some way to fill the void. It had been much easier to ignore when it was just quick glances and light touches that could easily have been exchanges between friends. He felt as if he had found part of himself, only to lose it again. They couldn't be together now, but that didn't mean there wouldn't come a time...he could wait. He was exhausted and yet he couldn't sleep. He lay there for several hours...still feeling her...still smelling her. When he finally drifted off, it was to a deep, dreamless sleep.

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

The doors swooshed open and Sheppard stood on the threshold to his quarters looking in. It had been so long since he had been here, it felt empty and abandoned. He silently wondered if Atlantis had dust bunnies, and if so, how frightening were the ones that were bound to have taken up residence here. He forced himself to walk in and listened as the doors swooshed closed behind him. He looked around...it didn't feel like home any more. He almost yearned for the infirmary and all the people that he thought he'd grown tired of. It had felt...safe...friendly...comfortable. This was cold and empty and depressing. He looked down at his desk to find his gun and holster. He knew the clothes he'd been wearing that day were a total loss. He was almost down to his last uniform. He was going to have to have a talk with the infirmary staff about cutting uniforms off. Until they got a connection back to earth, some of them were running a bit short on clothing.

He picked up the weapon, feeling the cold, hard metal in his hand. He stood staring at it, noticing how it felt in his grip. After checking to be sure it wasn't loaded, he examined the end of the barrel. Someone had thoroughly cleaned it - no blood. He closed his eyes a minute, trying to remember. He wanted to understand why he had thought that putting a gun to his head was the only answer. Opening his eyes, he walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He took the empty gun and put it up to his temple, desperately trying to remember something he was beginning to think he'd never understand. He felt the cold metal of the gun barrel against the scar on the right side of his head and he shuddered. His hand began to shake violently and he dropped the gun to the floor as he ran from his quarters, desperate to be anywhere else but here.

He rushed down the hall, oblivious to everyone he passed. Finally reaching the door to the balcony, he almost ran out into the fresh air, breathing deeply as he gripped the rail. His head was spinning and he could feel the nausea rising up his throat as his hands trembled against the metal railing. He closed his eyes, willing his stomach to settle and the world to be still and his head to stop throbbing. He was sure for a minute that his legs would buckle and he'd be on the floor in a minute, so he leaned heavily against the rail he was gripping. Things were just beginning to settle when he heard the door behind him open. Oh please, not now, he thought.

"Hey you, Carson said he had released you. I went to your..." He still hadn't opened his eyes because he was afraid if he watched the world spin he'd lose out to the nausea, but he recognized the voice. It was Elizabeth. "John.." she gasped. "I'm calling Carson."

"No!" He was surprised at the strength in his voice. He grit his teeth and opened his eyes. "It's okay. I just got a little dizzy. I'm okay now."

She looked at his pale face, pained expression, and trembling hand gripping the rail and didn't believe a word of it. "You are most certainly not okay. John, you're about to pass out. I'm calling Carson." She reached up to hit her radio, but he intercepted her hand.

"Please...don't call him. I need to be out of there. I'll never get it together if I don't get out and try. It's just...hard sometimes. I'm okay, though...really."

She looked into the pleading eyes and knew he was right. She put her hand on his hand. "Okay, I won't call. Please tell me you'll go back to your quarters and rest. You're still a little weak."

He nodded. "I will in a minute. I just needed...some fresh air. It was a little...tight in there. I'll go back in a bit, I promise." She didn't look convinced, so he put his hooked index finger under her chin and lifted until their eyes met. "I will go back to my quarters in a few minutes and I will rest - I promise."

She didn't look happy, but she nodded in agreement anyway. "Okay. Do you want me to stay?"

"No, I think I just need some time to myself. I haven't really had much of that in a while. I just need it...out here. I have to think...to sort some things out."

Elizabeth nodded, still not happy. "Okay, then, I'll leave. Call me if you need me?"

He smiled. "I'll see you later. How about dinner tonight?"

"Okay...it's a date...well... that is, ...yes, let's have dinner. I'll see you around six in the mess hall." He nodded and she reluctantly turned and left.

He turned back to the ocean and felt the breeze blow across him for several minutes before placing his back to the wall and sliding down to a sitting position on the floor. With his legs bent up to his chest, he rested his forehead on his knees and wrapped his arms around his legs. He did need to think some things out and try to work through some of the pains that haunted him, but he couldn't focus. So he just absently let his mind drift as he sat there, wondering if he would ever feel whole again. He was unaware of Elizabeth watching him from just inside the door, wishing with all her heart she could somehow make all the pain go away.

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

Sheppard slapped Rodney's hand, knocking the fork loose from his grip and causing it to clatter to the floor. "Major...now look what you've done! Now I don't have fork," McKay said in disgust.

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "If you'd keep your grubby hands off my food, you wouldn't have that problem. I said I didn't want the ...beans or whatever they are...not the stuff that tastes like potatoes. If you can't raid my plate properly, then stay out of it. I'll tell Beckett you're stealing my food and then you'll really be in for it."

McKay looked highly insulted. "Oh, that's right. Sick the Scottsman on me. Talk about not playing fair. It just so happens I was reaching for the bean stuff before you slapped my fork into next week. You just didn't give me a chance to get my fork to the right place. Always so impatient."

"So do you want this stuff or not?" asked Sheppard.

"Yes, yes. Move it to my plate while I get another fork. And you can take half my potato stuff. But leave me some of it - I kind of like that stuff in small amounts."

McKay got up to get another fork, while Sheppard went about moving the food around between the two trays. Elizabeth, who was sitting across the table from Sheppard and beside Teyla,turned and looked at the other woman. "So, how old would you say those two are?"

Sheppard grunted. "Just a little harmless food bartering. This way there's no waste. See...we're conserving valuabe food resources." Teyla and Elizabeth exchanged glances again.

McKay returned to the table with a new fork and Ford, carrying a tray of food. "Hey guys! Mind if I join you?"

"Have a seat," said Sheppard. "Just watch your plate if you sit by McKay. His fork tends to wander."

"Huh! Very funny, major!" McKay sat down and pulled his tray closer. "Hello! I said half the potato stuff, not all of it. You left me, what...two bites?"

"Pipe down, McKay. I only took half. They didn't give you very much to begin with."

"I'm sorry - I don't think it's my fork that's been wandering here."

Ford looked at Elizabeth and Teyla, a look of uncertainty on his face. Teyla sighed heavily as she returned his gaze. "They have been like this all night I am afraid."

Sheppard and McKay looked up and innocently said in unison. "Like what?" They all looked around at each other for a few moments before bursting out in laughter.

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

Sheppard left the mess hall and headed for his quarters. He felt good. Better than he had in a long time. He knew he had a long way left to go both mentally and physically, but he really felt he was making progress. His first day out of the infirmary and he hoped one step closer to being through with this mess. He stepped inside his quarters and stood for a moment. He needed to do one more thing before he turned in for the night. He owed someone a visit. He stood thinking a minute before belting on his holster, loading his gun, and heading out the door. It was time to see Kavanagh.

He stepped into the room with the holding cell and nodded to the two marines on guard. They looked at each other nervously. "Uh...Nice to see you up and around Major Sheppard. When did you get out?"

"This morning," he said, watching Kavanagh eye him from the cell. "I just thought I'd have a little chat with our prisoner, if you don't mind."

They exchanged glances. "No, sir. We don't mind."

Sheppard walked over to the cell and stood as close as possible without running into the shield. "Good."

After a few moments, Kavanagh stood up and walked closer to Sheppard. "What do you want?"

Sheppard stood silently for several seconds. "I want to know why."

The smirk on Kavanagh's face made Sheppard want to slap the expression right off the scientist's face. "As I have told both Dr. McKay and Dr. Weir already, it was only meant to be an experiment. No one was supposed to get hurt. I'm sorry if it caused you any undue discomfort."

Sheppard listened to his heart pound harder and faster as he tried to bring his emotions under control. He kept reminding himself that he came here to get some more of the puzzle pieces so he could figure this thing out and put it behind him. He did not come here to lose his temper or exact revenge. That would be hard considering it almost seemed as if Kavanagh was baiting him. "Discomfort. Huh! Discomfort. Is that what you call it?"

Kavanagh stared at him intently. "Tell me about it major. What did it feel like?"

Sheppard was starting to sweat and all he could think about was the old saying, "Never let them see you sweat." Well, crap. He'd blown that one. "You ever have a muscle cramp, doc? The kind where you just about lay waste to everything in your path trying to get up and walk it out because it hurts so bad."

Kavanagh continued to stare, but did not answer. Sheppard and Kavanagh's eyes were locked and neither was backing down. Sheppard continued. "Now multiply the pain level of that cramp by a factor of four or five and have it in almost every muscle in both legs at the same time. When it finally starts to east a little, the muscles in your arms and shoulders cramp up...and then your back...and then your abdomen. The pain is so intense that it is all you can think of. You aren't aware of what is going on around you. You can't abandon the pain long enough to communicate with anyone. You are alone in the dark with this unbearable pain that keeps shifting locations in a random pattern. Now do this for days. Now do it three times. Would you like to try it? Maybe we can arrange it. Beckett has this whole gene therapy thing and I bet he'd be happy to share the ancient gene with you. I'm sure it would be invaluable for your...research." Sheppard had inched forward and was so close to the shield he could hear the low frequency hum. He could hear his heart beating rapidly as the blood roared in his temples.

Kavanagh smiled. "So sorry, major. Beckett already tried that. The gene therapy didn't work with me. But I'm so glad you helped out with the research. After all, that ancient gene is the only reason you're here. You weren't selected for your intelligence or your contribution to the scientific community. You got a luck of the draw gene. You might as well be a little useful and help us research ancient devices. This was actually part of your job description, when you think about it. And quit whining about a little pain. Plenty of scientists have sacrificed a great deal for the world of scientific knowledge. You're just a soldier. Major...you were just an experiment...so get over it."

Sheppard felt the anger explode in his head like a nuclear bomb. "Open the door and lower the shield," he said quietly, his voice carefully controlled. "That's an order."

Immediately the shield lowered and the cage was open. Kavanagh was watching Sheppard and still the movement caught him totally off guard. Sheppard flew forward in one swift fluid motion, drawing his gun and bringing it forward as he moved. There was no time for a reaction. Instantly the barrel of his gun was pressed against the center of Kavanagh's forehead and he was backed into the bars behind him. They stopped with Kavanagh's back pressing against the bars while the cold metal of the gun was pressed against his head. Sheppard's face was totally expressionless, but the cold void in his eyes scared the crap out of Kavanagh. He knew he was about to die.

"SSSSSheppard...you can't do this!" He whined. "Guards...you can't just stand there while he kills me."

The two young soldiers looked at one another. "Did you hear anything?"

"No," said the other. "Not a thing. Nice quiet day of guard duty."

Sheppard hadn't moved or flinched. His face was hard and cold and Kavanagh was now the one starting to sweat. "Please, major. I'm sorry...please don't kill me."

"Kavanagh...it's your lucky day." Still Sheppard didn't move the gun from Kavanagh's head. "I'm not going to kill you...today. For today, I'm satisfied that I could have killed you ...and that if I change my mind...I can come back. I'm going to check on you quite regularly. As long as it's enough that I can kill you at any time, you'll get to live. But if one day that's not enough...BANG!" Sheppard suddenly pushed the gun forward as he yelled bang, causing Kavanagh to yelp and jump. Sheppard holstered his gun and backed out of the cell and the guards closed it, reactivating the shield.

Kavanagh stood cowering in the back corner of the cell, whimpering in fear and visibly shaking. Sheppard's expression hadn't changed much, still cold and hard. Even the guards found it a little unsettling. They had heard that Sheppard could go into a soldier mode that made him deadly, seemingly without emotions. He had killed almost a hundred Genii in one night when they tried to take over the city during a storm.

"Just remember, Kavanagh...I'll be back. I guess you could call this phase four of your experiment. How long does Kavanagh get to live?" He turned and moved toward the door. He hesitated at the room's entrance and glanced at the two soldiers guarding Kavanagh. "He may need some dry pants." And then he was gone. The two men looked at each other, confused, and then walked over to look more closely at Kavanagh. They smiled about the same time as they noticed the dark stain covering the front of Kavanagh's pants.

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

Sheppard knew he couldn't go back to his quarters now, so he walked quickly down the hall toward the uninhabitated area of the city. He had genuinely scared himself. When he pulled the gun on Kavanagh and pressed it to his head, he had every intention of pulling the trigger and blowing a nice hole in the man's head. He had only stopped himself in the last second before he pulled the trigger, realizing at the last minute that it would be enough to know that he had the power to kill the man at any time. That did not make what he had almost done any less frightening. And he couldn't guarantee that he would not one day walk into the holding cell and kill Kavanagh. The fact that he would so easily kill a man in cold blood scared the crap out of him. What had he become? He would kill himself. He would kill an unarmed man. He wondered where the real John Sheppard was and if he would ever return.

He looked around to realize he was well into the uninhabited part of the city where he usually ran. He headed for the long, outdoor walkway that skirted the edge of Atlantis in this area. He could run and breathe the ocean air. He needed to run...to put this behind him for a time...to push himself physically without pushing himself mentally. He burst through the last door into the open air and looked into the night time sky. It was cloudy and a little windy and it felt good on his hot face. He started to run. He tried going easy at first, aware of his still sore and tired muscles. But as he ran, he felt the need to go faster and to push harder and he ran without thinking, breathing in the ocean air. His face was hot and the sweat rolled down his face in itchy little streams and soaked his shirt. His lungs burned with their need for oxygen, but he couldn't stop. If he stopped, he'd have to think.

He felt the first drops of rain pelt him in the face, their coolness absorbing some of the heat radiating from his body. And still he ran. His legs were burning and getting heavy. His chest felt as though it would explode if he couldn't pull in more oxygen and he could feel his heart beating hard and fast in his chest. The rain was coming faster and harder now and soon he was soaked, but it felt so good. And still he ran. He had no idea how much time had passed or how far he had run, but eventually he could go no further. His legs gave out, dropping him to his hands and knees and he felt the muscles in his abdomen and chest spasm from their recent punishment. He felt his stomach clamp down and barely crawled to the edge of the balcony in time to push his head between the rails and vomit into the ocean. By the time he finished, he was barely conscious. Slowly he pulled himself back from the edge, curling up on the floor of the platform in the pouring rain. He wrapped his arms around his middle as he brought his legs up to his chest and moaned against the now cramping muscles. His whole body shook with tremors as the spasms spread from the abdominal and chest muscles to the muscles in his side like dominoes falling in a row. He was finding it hard to breathe as the spasms slowly radiated into his back muscles and he remembered a song from his childhood. The headbone's connected to the neckbone. The neckbone's connected to the shoulder boneHe wondered if the muscles were connected like that and the spasms would spread throughout his whole body. His mind drifted. At some point he thought maybe he should call for help, but he didn't think he brought his radio and he was too tired and too weak to look. So he lay curled up in a fetal position, shaking and hurting and trying to breathe in the pouring rain, as he allowed himself to slip into the darkness.

TBC