Another apology for a long delay. My excuses include a birthday party for my daughter, construction duty for my husband, and being sick as a dog. I thought the incessant coughing was due to breathing in sawdust, but since we've spiraled downhill since then and I can no longer talk or breathe, I think maybe it's something else. I'm thinking Emrys emailed me her illness or I'm having sympathy pains for Sheppard. Anyway, writing withdrawal got the best of me, so here's another chapter. We're almost done (I promise).

As always, you guys have been very nice with the reviews and I thank you very much. That's what keeps me going. You guys are the best!

Chapter 23

McKay snapped his head up, realizing he must have dozed off sitting in the infirmary chair. He glanced around the waiting area to find Teyla, Ford, and Weir asleep in other chairs. He got up and stretched some of the stiffness out of his joints and muscles, stifling a yawn as he moved. Not sure what to do next and not wanting to go back to sleep, he looked toward the darkened ward of the infirmary. Soft light floated out from around a privacy curtain pulled partially around one bed in the far corner. McKay knew that was Sheppard's bed. He found himself moving towards the bed, even though he didn't remember ever making a conscious decision to go there. It had been a couple of hours since Carson had given them an update and the one he had provided wasn't very encouraging. McKay felt a need to see how things were going.

He peered around the curtain to see Carson fussing with Sheppard's covers and a nurse taking Sheppard's temperature.

"Doctor...it's 105, I'm afraid."

Beckett nodded as if he had expected as much. "All right. Let's go with the cold compresses then." The nurse nodded and turned to go, spotting McKay on her way out. She nodded to him, but didn't try to throw him out, much to his surprise.

He stood watching Sheppard's labored breathing for several moments before Beckett saw him. Sheppard stirred, rustling the covers around and moving his head back and forth a couple of times. McKay could hear his muffled mumbling from under the oxygen mask.

"Mom...am...I ...dead?"

McKay looked up at Beckett. "What did he just say?"

Beckett rubbed his face, obviously both tired and concerned. "It's the fever, Rodney. He's delirious."

"He's not doing too well, is he?" asked Rodney, worry evident in his voice. "His breathing sounds worse."

"Aye. I think he's developin' pleural effusion and we may..."

"Carson...English please."

"Sorry, lad. I think fluid is accumulatin' around the lungs. It's making it harder for him to breathe. If it gets any worse, we may have to draw some of it out. The other problem is his fever. We can't seem to get it down. We've had a cooling blanket on him for a while now, and it's not doin' any good. We're going to try cold compresses under the arms and around the groin. I'm hoping that'll help. I really don't like his fever bein' this high, especially for this long."

Sheppard shuffled around in the bed again, mumbling incoherently for a minute before falling still and silent.

When the nurse returned with the compresses, Beckett took McKay by the arm and began leading him away from the bed. "Okay, Rodney, you've checked on him. Now it's time to go. We've got work to do and I don't need you underfoot. Now shoo."

McKay didn't look happy, but he slowly walked away, heading back to the waiting area.

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Sheppard sat across the table from Dex and Mitch. He looked around at the room, remembering the barracks they had occupied in Afghanistan.

"Shep, what are you doing, buddy? You know good and well you're not supposed to be here." Sheppard looked at Mitch, trying to figure out if he was real. The last time he'd seen him, it had been a figment of his imagination and he wondered if this was the case now. He reached across the table and poked the man in the arm. "I'm real Shep. We're really here...and you shouldn't be."

Sheppard pulled his hand back and leaned back in the chair. "Where is here? Why am I not supposed to be here? And how are we in the same place if I'm not dead, because I sure has heck know you two are dead?" The frustration was beginning to show in Sheppard's voice.

The two men exchanged a glance before looking back at Sheppard. "You've given up Shep. We're really surprised, too. We've never seen you give up before, and frankly, I never thought we would. We're just a little disappointed."

Sheppard was starting to get angry. "What is everyone talking about? I'm getting tired of this. I haven't given up on anything...why do you keep saying that?"

"Think about it, Shep. Maybe not consciously, but you have stopped fighting. You're dying, buddy. If you don't kick it into gear soon, you really will be joining us."

Dex continued the thought. "We know you're tired, Shep. Believe me when I say, we can sympathize. We know you've really been through a lot lately, but you've got to put things into perspective. You've got a lot of support these days, if you'll just let your friends help you."

"And you can't let Atlantis down. She's depending on you. The people in Atlantis are depending on you. This is about more than just you. You've got to look at the big picture. You've spent your life looking out after everyone else, Shep. You need to do it one more time. Atlantis is your destiny."

Sheppard raised his eyebrows. "My destiny? Since when did you two get so...philosophical? And besides, how would you know what my destiny is anyway? This is all getting just a little creepy."

Dex sighed. "Yeah, I know the destiny stuff sounds a little...melodramatic or something. But it carries the right point. Atlantis is where you were meant to be. You are not there by random chance...you have a purpose. But you have to be alive to fulfill that purpose."

"So buckle down and get with the program, Shep. A lot of people are depending on you. A lot of people will depend on you."

Sheppard just shook his head. "I don't know if I'm swallowing this stuff, guys. This is probably just some stupid dream, anyway. But just in case it's not...I've really missed you guys."

They looked at each other and smiled before looking back at Sheppard. Mitch said, "It's not a dream, Shep. It's real. And we've really missed you too."

Sheppard felt the world spinning around him and his two friends blurred out of sight as he once again fell into the darkness.

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Nick looked at Carson's worried expression as they listened to Sheppard's heavy wheezing, audible over the gentle hissing of the oxygen. "Thoracentesis?" he asked? Carson just nodded. "I'll get a syringe." said Nick as he left.

Nick was on his way back to Sheppard's little corner of the infirmary when his team confronted the doctor. They looked a little scared when they saw the rather large needle and syringe on the tray he was carrying.

"Is that for the major?" asked Teyla, obviously worried.

Nick nodded. "I'm afraid he's developed a little fluid problem around his lungs and he's having a lot of trouble breathing. Carson't just going to draw some of it out. It should help him breathe easier."

"What about his fever?" asked McKay. "Carson was going to use cold compresses to help bring his temperature down."

Nick looked grim. "We're not having much luck in that area. Last time we checked he was up to 105.8. I've never seen a fever so relentless before. We're still using the compresses, as well as the cooling blanket. I've got to get back to Major Sheppard. I'll tell Carson to come talk to you after we remove some fluid."

The group nodded and watched Nick move quickly toward Sheppard's bed, but they made no attempt to return to the waiting area. After a few minutes, they silently made their way to the curtained area where their friend lay, drenched in sweat and struggling for every breath. They watched in fascinated silence as Beckett withdrew a large amount of fluid from Sheppard's chest. They were relieved when his breathing seemed to ease a little.

"Carson," said Rodney. "Is he going to get better now?" He looked so hopeful.

Beckett's face was hard to read. "I don't know. The infection is so aggressive and he's giving in so quickly. I know his immune system is weak from what all has happened so far, but still..."

"What?" asked Ford.

"I don't know. It's as if he's just given up...as if he's not fightin' at all. We've done all we can. It's up to him now, pure and simple. And if he doesn't do something soon..."

Each silently wondered if Sheppard would make it through the night.

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"Major, just what the heck do you think you are doing?"

Sheppard whipped his head around to see Colonel Sumner standing in the gateroom of Atlantis. He held his hand up in a "stop" motion. "I know this one. Let's see...I'm not supposed to be here, right?"

"You're darn right, you're not supposed to be here. What is wrong with you, son? Maybe they teach you to quit in the Air Force, but we marines never quit. Must be a flyboy thing. Or maybe it's just you not doing your job again."

"I do my job!" he yelled. "I've done my job, sir. And I've done your job too. I didn't have much choice. You left me...you left me with all of it. I came to this God-forsaken galaxy because of a stupid random gene and I ended up being responsible for everyone...and everything...And just in case you haven't been watching...I've pretty well screwed it up. On top of waking the wraith and getting a few million people killed, I've even got my own people trying to kill me. How much more screwed up can it get?"

Sumner's expression softened a little. "You haven't screwed it up. I have to admit...I expected you to. I thought you were some hot-headed cowboy who'd get everyone killed. I was wrong. You've done a fine job, major, under very bad circumstances. You're a good leader and the men respect you. Atlantis needs you..."

"Do you know how many times I've heard that today? It's really getting old. Everyone keeps telling me the same stuff. Atlantis needs me. I don't belong here. I've given up. I wish someone would sing a new song...or least a new verse."

"Maybe you need to listen. Be honest Major Sheppard...do you want to die?"

Sheppard thought for a minute. He had to admit, the thought of just sliding away and not having any more pain or responsiblilty or fear or anger...was tempting. But then again..."No, I don't want to die."

Sumner smiled. "Good choice kid. And I speak from experience. Then get up off your butt and fight. I'm not sure if it's too late or not, so if you're going to do this, you better start now." Sumner turned as if to leave.

"Colonel?" Sumner turned around. "When I shot you...the wraith was feeding...I thought..."

"You did the right thing, major. You did the only thing you could."

Sheppard breathed a sigh of relief...and Sumner was gone. Sheppard suddenly felt very tired and he didn't fight it when the darkness once again overcame him.

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"Doctor?" Beckett sat bolt upright in the chair, realizing that he must have dozed off. A nurse was standing over him, smiling. He looked beyond her, concerned about his patient.

"What's happened?" he asked worriedly as he got to his feet.

"It's okay, Dr. Beckett. I just thought you'd like to know. Major Sheppard's temperature has finally started to come down. I just took it and he's down to 104.1. I know that's still high, but at least it went down instead of up for once."

Beckett nodded enthusiastically. That was the first piece of good news he'd had in well over twenty-four hours and he was thrilled. He nudged Nick, sleeping in the chair next to him. "Get up, Dr. Strauhan...Major Sheppard's temperature is finally starting to come down." Nick yawned and stretched a minute before looking up at Beckett.

"Did I hear you right?"

"Yes you did. 104.1 degrees." Beckett leaned over and spent the next few minutes listening to Sheppard breathe with his stethoscope. After a few minutes, he pulled the earpieces down around his neck. "I think his breathing may be a little easier too. I'll go inform his team. It'll be nice to give them some good news for once."

Beckett almost raced to the waiting area. When the team saw his hurried steps, they all jumped to their feet, fearing the worst until they saw a smile break out on the tired doctor's face.

"Carson, how is he?" asked Elizabeth, her question reflected on all of their faces.

"Better. His fever's startin' to come down finally and his breathin' seems to be a little less labored. I think we may have finally turned a corner." They all sighed in relief and broke into broad grins. the built up tension of the night starting to slowly slide away.

"Can we see him?" asked Rodney.

"Not yet, Rodney. Maybe later today. We'll see how he does as the day progresses. Right now I want all of you out of here. I want everyone to get a bite of breakfast and then go get some rest. I don't want to see any of your faces until after lunch, is that clear?"

Mixed expressions displayed both their relief at Sheppard's improvement and their dismay at not being allowed to see him. In the end, Beckett won and they agreed to come back after lunch.

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Sheppard was first aware of a pressure on his chest, as if someone was pressing down on him...or maybe sitting on him. He briefly wondered where Rodney was - it would be so like him to think that was funny. And then he thought he heard Rodney's voice. He tried to focus on it, to bring himself to where he could hear more clearly. Just to hear for now. He didn't really want to go for opening his eyes just yet. It was still taking a lot of energy just to breathe.

"...said we could see him after lunch. I ate lunch already. I can prove it...I had some kind of casserole thing - tasted sort of like really bad tuna, but we probably don't have any tuna left, so there's no telling what it really was, but..."

"Rodney! Will you pipe down. You're going to wake the major up. This is the reason I made ya wait until later in the first place. We bring the man back from the bloody brink of death and you talk him to death. I meant after lunch time, not after you ate something so you could say you had lunch." Sheppard would recognize the Scottish accent and protective instinct anywhere. He would have smiled if he'd had the energy. It was time to intervene.

"Rod...ney?" he croaked. He realized he had an oxygen mask on and they probably hadn't heard him. They may not have heard what he said, but they did recognize that he'd made a sound. He finally hitched his eyes open a slit to see Beckett and McKay hovering over him from opposite sides of the bed.

"Major? How do you feel, son?" asked Beckett.

Sheppard wasn't sure he had enough energy to play twenty questions. "Chest...hurts...little...hot."

"You have pneumonia and you've had a lot of fluid build up around your lungs. That's why your chest hurts and it's probably hard to breathe. We've got you on oxygen for now. You're fever was pretty high last night. You had us all really worried for a while, but it's coming down now. You'll probably carry some fever for a little while longer though."

"Well, Major, that's what happens to people who don't have enough sense to come in out of the rain, especially when you've worn yourself down. Guess you need a genius like me to watch out after you after all," McKay teased.

They watched as Sheppard struggled to keep his eyes open, obviously not having much luck. Beckett patted his arm. "It's okay, Major. just give it up and go on back to sleep."

Sheppard's eyes shot open. "No!...said...can't...give up."

"Who said you can't give up?" asked Beckett.

Sheppard's eyes had already started to flutter again. "Mom...Dex...Mitch...Sumner..."

Beckett and McKay looked at each other in confusion. Then McKay sighed as if he understood. "You've been talking to dead people again, haven't you? What is it with you and talking to dead people?"

Sheppard's eyelids were barely twitching, indicating he was about to lose the battle. "More...interessssssss..." he trailed off as all eye movement ceased and he drifted back to sleep.

"I'd say he's done for now. Why don't you go back to your lab or somethin' and check back later. He'll sleep a while now and that's the best thing for him. He's still spottin' a pretty good fever and a bit of congestion. He's not goin' to bounce back in a day. It takes a while to get over pneumonia." Carson motioned for Rodney to leave, but Rodney just continued to stand there. "Rodney...he's going to be fine, but you need to leave now. Come back later this evening and I may let you sit a while."

McKay didn't look happy, but he nodded and headed for the door. "Take good care of him."

Beckett smiled. "Don't I always?" McKay smiled back and nodded, seemingly satisfied, and left.

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Two days later, Sheppard was propped up in bed with McKay, Ford, Teyla, and Weir around him. He had traded in the oxygen mask for nasal cannula, which he insisted he no longer needed. Beckett, however, insisted differently and since Beckett always won out in the infirmary, the major got to keep his oxygen support. They were all very much relieved at how much the major's color had improved, along with his breathing. He still had a little fever, but Beckett was confident that wouldn't last much longer.

"So, have you ever decided what to do with Kavanagh?" Sheppard asked Weir.

"Yes...we have. Are you sure you're up to talking about this?"

Sheppard smiled. "Yeah, I'm good. I've put a lot of things into perspective thanks to Mit...I've done a lot of thinking and I've gotten a handle on some things."

McKay hadn't missed it. "There he goes...talking to dead people again."

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Lay off, McKay."

Elizabeth looked at him, studying his expression. "What's he talking about?"

Sheppard shifted uncomfortably beneath the covers. "Do you...believe...in spirits...or souls? I talked to...some people while I had the fever. They all told me the same thing...that Atlantis needed me and I couldn't give up. They kept saying Atlantis was...my destiny."

"Did you give up?" They looked around to see Beckett had joined the group.

Sheppard looked a little sheepish. "Not consciously...but I think maybe unconsciously...I remember thinking it would be so nice not to be afraid or in pain any more. Anyway, if I did, they badgered me out of it. Mitch and Dex kept telling me to think of the big picture...to think of Atlantis and not myself."

"Who else did you talk to, sir?" asked Ford, his eyes wide with amazement.

"My mom...she died when I was twelve." He bit his lower lip until he tasted blood, trying not to let the emotions flood to the surface as he remembered seeing him mom on the beach...just as she had been when he was a kid. He suddenly remembered why the beach had looked familiar. They had visited that beach the weekend before his mom was killed in a car accident and his life went to hell.

"Major?" He jerked his attention back to the present, self-conscious that he had let himself wander away in front of everyone.

"Sorry...just remembering something." He shifted around again, trying in vain to get comfortable. "I also talked to Sumner. That was interesting. He told me to get up off my butt and fight."

"Good advice. I'd say it worked," said Beckett. "Of course, it was all probably due to the fever. You were quite delirious for a while, major. Mumbling and carrying on in your sleep."

Sheppard seemed almost far away as he replied. "I don't know, doc. It seemed so real. I could...touch them...smell them...I was there...they were there...It wasn't like any dream or hallucination I've ever had."

"My people believe that the spirits of the Ancestors help guide us through difficult times. Those people who were close to Major Sheppard could have been helping him through a difficult time when he needed guidance," added Teyla.

McKay shook his head. "No...I think it's more likely that somewhere deep in his subconscious, he realized that he had given up and that he needed a little...push. Since he knew he wouldn't listen to himself, after all no one else does either, he chose to give himself a kick as other people."

Sheppard disagreed. "No, no. If that was it, why wouldn't I have you or Teyla or someone here in this room be the one to give me a pep talk. And by the way, I resent that remark about no one listening to me."

McKay sighed in annoyance. "Hell - ooo. Obsession with dead people. I'm telling you, you have some sort of creepy thing for talking to dead people in your past. I bet you dream about them too, don't you?" McKay snapped his fingers. "Oh my God, that's why you walk the halls at night..."

"McKay! My sleep habits are none of your business. Let's just drop it. It doesn't matter anyway. Whatever it was, real or just a dream, I'm okay now. I'd appreciate it if we could go back to my original question, which was what is going on with Kavanagh?"

Elizabeth sat up a little straighter. "Okay, here's what we did. I got together several of the senior staff members for a kind of committee. We discussed what Kavanagh did and what types of crimes he would be charged with if we were on earth. We have decided to hold him in custody indefinitely...a lot depending on if we are ever able to return to earth. In the meantime, while he is in custody, we decided that he should earn his keep since supplies are limited and he's caused all sorts of problems. At present, he is working in Sector D. We found some tanks that are accessory tanks to what serves as Atlantis's septic system. We think we'll eventually want to bring them on line. So Kavanagh has been assigned, with a guard of course, to clean each one of them out...by hand...with a bucket and a rag. It should take him several weeks. I've been told the smell is somewhat...unpleasant. After he finishes with that...well...I'm sure we can find something equally deserving of his talents."

Sheppard closed his eyes and leaned his head back on his pillow, mentally picturing Kavanagh on septic tank duty. He grinned broadly. "Ohhhh, yeah. I think I like it. I guess he's whining and complaining."

Elizabeth smiled and looked at him with an accusatory sideways glance. "No...actually he's not saying much. According to the guards, he's been a model prisoner ever since your little visit. I don't know what you said...or did...but he just keeps asking that you not be allowed near him. Care to elaborate?"

Sheppard's expression remained neutral. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"That's what I thought," she said.

TBC

Almost done.