John sat in the chair across from Elizabeth's desk. He couldn't slouch into it like he normally would because his ribs protested the position and he felt too wired and taut to be able to relax that much. So he sat stiffly, fingertips drumming against his thigh. He had sent his teammates on ahead to the infirmary. He wanted Beckett to check them over, so he could know that they really were okay. Officially. Physically. John knew they were fucked up emotionally and mentally. This wasn't something they could just bury inside them and pretend to move on. Even though that was exactly what he was going to try to do.

"What happened?" Elizabeth asked, as she moved to sit behind her desk.

"I'm not sure," John replied. He was going to be as honest with her as he could. At least about the mission and the others.

Elizabeth sighed and rubbed hard at the bridge of her nose. "Your team...they look shell-shocked."

John winced at that. He knew Elizabeth wanted to know what had happened, but he wasn't sure how to explain it to her. He wasn't sure he could explain it to himself. The sticking point was that he couldn't let himself be emotional right now. He had to find a way to detach himself. He had to figure things out so he could help his teammates. So he gave himself a mental shake and tried to focus on nothing more than giving her the facts.

"I don't know who the people on the planet were. We weren't there long when we were stunned...or something. I woke up in some room, alone. I didn't know where the others were at first. Then I was brought to this room and watched them being tortured..." John broke off a moment, needing to clear his throat. He felt Elizabeth's gaze hard upon him and he couldn't meet her eyes as he continued. "They were butchered. They did to make me tell them where Earth was."

"But your team is alive," Elizabeth interjected.

John nodded and stared at a spot on the wall behind her. "I know. It happened in our minds. They were in our heads somehow. Teyla said they experienced what I was seeing, even though nothing was actually happening to them physically." The spot on the wall started to blur and John blinked hard. "I thought they were all dead."

Elizabeth looked stunned. "What about you, John? Did they torture you too?"

"No." He whispered the lie.

"So none of it was real." Elizabeth spoke uncertainly.

John swallowed down the bile that was pooling in his throat and managed to look at her. "No. It wasn't real. But it...it felt real." He resisted the urge to close his eyes in an attempt to banish the images that were forming in his head. Ford and Teyla and Rodney all bloody and butchered, their screams echoing in his head.

Elizabeth came around her desk and touched his shoulder, pulling back when he jumped. "Sorry."

"It's okay." John forced a smile. "I'm just a little jumpy."

"How did you get away?"

That was the question he had been asking himself and John still didn't have an answer. If the torture wasn't real, was the woman's death nothing more than an illusion? He wished he knew. "I don't know," he replied. "To be honest, right now...I don't care how we did it. I'm just glad we're back."

Elizabeth eyed him with concern. "I'm glad too. But...you must have done something to escape. Or was it like when we thought we had gone home?"

"Could be." John had thought about that. "I stabbed the woman who kept asking me about Earth and then I suddenly woke up with everyone around me. They're pretty sure they were in a room together, and I'm pretty sure I was locked up too. Maybe not."

"How did she know about Earth?" Elizabeth looked rattled at the thought.

John felt an ache in his temples that was turning into a stabbing pain that made it hard to focus. But he tried to answer the question. "I was thinking maybe they're connected to the Wraith. That or they could read our thoughts, delve into our minds and see everything. Only...if that were the case, then they'd know where Earth was."

Elizabeth relaxed a bit at his words. "Makes sense."

"As much as anything does right now," John allowed, pushing himself out of the chair. He felt too anxious to remain stationary, but when he stood up he rocked on his feet as dizziness washed over him.

"We can finish this later," Elizabeth stated, grabbing his arm to steady him. "I'll walk you to the infirmary."

John didn't argue. He wanted to see how the others were doing.

They walked to the infirmary in silence. John could feel the tension that thrummed throughout his body, shooting up into his head to cause a band of pain from temple to temple. He knew he needed to relax. He needed to be ready to deal with his teammates. He was the only one who could truly understand what they had suffered through and he needed to be there for him. He needed to be strong.

When they reached the infirmary, John stepped ahead of Elizabeth, moving to the beds in the corner where Rodney, Teyla and Ford resided. They were all sitting up and their eyes locked upon him as he approached. John smiled at them then looked over at Beckett who was scribbling on a chart. "How are they?" he asked the doctor.

Carson finished what he was writing then set aside the clipboard before replying. "They're in shock, dehydrated and exhausted...but otherwise they appear fine."

"They are right here!" Rodney interjected, snottily. But his tone lacked its usual sharpness.

"I've contacted Heightmeyer and she'll speak with each of you tomorrow. I want everyone to get some rest first," Carson stated firmly.

John nodded. He was glad to hear about Heightmeyer. He knew his team would need to talk to her, even though he had doubts that the psychiatrist would really be able to understand what had happened. Regardless, she was the most qualified person to help them deal with their emotions. John knew he would be able to offer moral support and whatever strength they needed, but they would need so much more than that. As for himself, he would wheedle his way out of an actual session. There was nothing she could do to help him. He would deal with what had happened on his own. The way he always did.

Carson touched Sheppard on the arm. "Your turn, major. Hop up on the bed there." He pointed to the one next to where Teyla was sitting.

"In a minute," John countered. "I just want to make sure everyone is okay." He moved to face Rodney. "Did you have anything to eat?"

"Powerbars and juice," Rodney replied. "We all have." He pointed to the empty wrappers on the bed tables, and empty glasses.

John glanced at them but his focus was on his team. He glanced at Teyla who looked stoic but Shaken, and Ford who looked like he was about to throw up. John then looked at Rodney again. At the hands that were worrying at the hem of the blue uniform science shirt. "We're home and we're safe," John said firmly.

Ford spoke up from his corner. "Doesn't feel like it, sir. Not really."

"Ford-" John began, but Weir cut him off.

"I know that you're all tired and that you've been through a traumatic experience, but can you tell me what happened?" Weir queried. "Major Sheppard told me a little, but I'd like a bit more details."

Teyla spoke first. "They tortured us," she said quietly. "They cut my face then cut my throat."

Weir shuddered. "God...I'm sorry."

"It was awful," Ford stated. He was staring at his hands. "He cut them off. My hands and my feet...he just...he cut them off." He stopped, voice choking, chest heaving for a moment as if he might be sick.

"It's okay...it's over now." John was by Ford's side, a hand squeezing his shoulder.

Rodney slid off the gurney and started pacing. "They cut my tongue out," he mumbled, fingertips lifting to brush his lips. "I was...I was choking, on the blood." He started to say more but he bent over, gagging.

Carson seemed to recognize the signs. He ran over with a bedpan and got it under Rodney's chin just before he vomited his stomach contents.

Weir turned to look at Sheppard, eyes wide with horror. "I didn't realize...I'm sorry. You...you said you saw it happen? All of it?"

"Yes." John realized his tone was sharp but he couldn't help it. The images were dancing in his head again, causing the pain in his temples to spike hot and white, reminding him, all too vividly, of the skewer that had been driven through Rodney's head. He closed his eyes but the images didn't fade, nor did the pain.

"Major?"

He opened his eyes to realize Beckett was trying to draw him over to the medbed. John blinked hard, feeling the eyes of everyone upon him. He looked over at Rodney who was sitting in a nearby chair. "You okay?" John asked.

Rodney shook his head. "No...I'm not."

"Up on the bed now," Carson insisted.

John slid onto it, wincing at the pull to his ribs. He watched as Carson pull the privacy curtain then remained silent as he was poked and prodded. This pain was nothing compared to what he remembered feeling. This pain helped to keep him grounded.

Carson was making tutting noises beneath his breath and shaking his head. "You seem to be worse off than the others, Major," he said finally. "I'm going to keep you overnight. I'll hook you up to an IV and give you a little something for the pain I know you're in." He brushed a hand lightly over Sheppard's bruised side. "I should probably take an X-ray but we'll hold off for now. I want you to tell me if you have any difficulty breathing."

"I'm fine." John said it with conviction, needing to convince himself as much as Beckett. Maybe more so. The ribs were nothing, they would heal and the bruises would fade. It was the memory of what had been done, the horrific illusion he and the others had suffered through that had left a permanent mark on his soul. But he had to get past it. "I'll rest in my room," John promised.

"Maybe tomorrow," Carson shot back. "You're spending the night here. I'm going to send the others off to shower and sleep though. They can come visit with you tomorrow. Now rest a minute and I'll bring you some scrubs."

John slid off the bed. "I need to shower." He had to at least try and wash away the memory of the pain. The cold sweat that had slicked his skin had been real enough and the stench of it filled his nostrils, making the memories burn fresh and vivid in his head. A wave of dizziness hit him and he swayed, knees buckling, and he probably would have fallen had Beckett not grabbed him by the arm.

"Sit down, Major," Carson ordered, gruffly.

"I'm good." John locked his knees then locked eyes with Beckett. "I need to shower." He could feel the slickness of blood on his skin. Blood that had never touched him.

Carson cursed then reached in his lab coat pocket and pulled out his penlight. He shone it in Sheppard's eyes then stuffed it back in his pocket before lifting his hands to the back of Sheppard's head, gently feeling around with his fingertips.

John flinched at Beckett brushed over a sore spot. "Easy, doc." He pulled away, closing his eyes against the surge of throbbing pain in his temples.

"Were you unconscious for any length of time?" Carson asked, his tone quiet but firm.

"Maybe...but not for long," John lied. "I've had concussions before...I'd recognize if I had one. Can I shower now? I'm tired." He knew going for sympathy would work with Beckett and he was right.

Carson sighed and nodded. "All right then, have your shower. Do you need some help?"

John managed a shaky smile. "No...I'm good. Just drop off some scrubs." He was already turning and pushing aside the curtain as he spoke. He was a little surprised to realize the rest of his team were already gone. As was Elizabeth. It shook John for a moment. He felt more alone than he had in his box, after everyone had died. "Thought they had died," John muttered to himself as he moved towards the bathroom in the back. Once inside he made certain the door was locked then he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower.

For a long time John focused on nothing but the hot water slicing over his skin. It warmed him even as it soothed the ache in his ribs. He lifted his face, thinking the water a bit cooler, and let it ease the throbbing in his temples. Reaching for the shampoo, John scrubbed his head, rinsed then washed up. He found himself almost raking his fingernails over his skin as he lathered his body. He still felt cold and dirty and stained with blood.

Knees buckling, John slid down the shower wall, tucking himself into the corner like he had so many times in his box. Only he was wondering now if any of that had been real. If anything was real anymore. He sat in the corner until he heard Beckett calling his name, replaying the images of Ford and Teyla and Rodney being tortured. He blinked hard and pushed himself to his feet when Beckett's shouting turned panicked. "Be right out!" John called to him. He rinsed off again, turned the water off, stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist. He had a smile plastered on his face as he opened the door.

Carson's eyes ran over him. "You all right, Major? You had me worried there."

"I'm fine, just tired. The water felt good." John reached the scrubs that were scrunched in Beckett's hand. "I'll just get dressed."

"Aye…I'll be waiting for you. I've got a mug of soup and an IV with your name on it."

John nodded. "Yay me." He closed the door, dropped the towel and got dressed. He could do this. He could bury the memories and deal with the aftermath. Because he wasn't in this alone. He had his team to think about and they needed him. He could fall apart on his own time. When he was retired or something.

Laughter bubbled out of John with an edge of hysteria to it and he tamped it down. He had to be alright. He had to be.