He woke up, choking a bit as he swallowed down a scream. John could feel the cold sweat that sheened his skin, he could feel his body trembling in the wake of his dreams. He blinked hard to bring his hands into focus, almost surprised that they were clean. In his dream he could feel the warm blood that slicked his skin. Ford's blood. Ford and Teyla and Rodney's blood.

"Major."

He jumped at the soft voice, jumped again when a warm hand touched his face. "Sorry," John apologized, automatically, as he stared into Teyla's concerned eyes. "What...what are you doing here? It's late...isn't it?" He glanced at his wrist but there was no watch, just the IV needle taped to the back of his hand.

Teyla nodded. "It is late."

"Then why are you here?" John prompted, shifting about so that he was sitting up more against the pillows. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a familiar form on the bed next to him. "Is that Rodney?" John pointed.

"Yes."

Instinct made John turn his head to check the bed on his other side. Not surprisingly, Ford was curled up there. "What are you guys doing here? I thought Beckett sent you off to rest?"

Teyla lowered the bed rail so that she could sit on the side of the bed. "He did send us to our rooms, but we all wandered back here." Her tone was soft and her eyes remained locked on her hands as she continued. "We did not wish to alone, and we felt the need to be close to you."

"Oh." John hadn't expected to hear that, even as he understood it. He reached out for Teyla's hand, capturing one in his and feeling how she trembled. "We'll get through this, Teyla," John said firmly. He wanted her to believe that. He wanted to believe it himself.

"Eventually," she allowed.

John had nothing to say to that. He glanced over at Rodney then Ford. "At least they're able to sleep."

Teyla almost smiled. "Dr. Beckett gave them something to help them rest."

"What about you?" John countered. She looked drawn and tired and he knew she was as exhausted as he felt.

"I did not wish to be sedated, but then I could not sleep when I dreamed." The confession seemed rung out of her.

John squeezed her hand. "Dreaming sucks," he allowed, trying to lighten the mood. But it was hard to shake off the images of his own nightmares. "Maybe you should ask for something."

Teyla shrugged, then squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. "I know that Dr. Beckett wishes for us to talk to Dr. Heightmeyer about what happened, but I do not wish to discuss it with her. Not now. I do think I am ready to share this with anyone and I know that Dr. McKay and Aiden feel the same way."

"Teyla..." John began, only to fall silent when he heard footsteps approaching. The night nurse looked concerned as she reached them.

"Major Sheppard, are you in pain?" she asked.

He started to shake his head but thought better of it when his temples throbbed. He was hurting but he almost welcomed the pain. Welcomed it because he knew it was real. "No...I'm fine," he assured her. "But I think Teyla could use a little something to help her sleep." He sensed Teyla's refusal and locked eyes with her. "You need to rest." He was pleased when she finally nodded, sliding off his bed and allowing the nurse to lead her to her own in the corner.

John let his eyes drift closed as he listened to Teyla settling in. He must have dozed off for a moment because a touch on his arm jolted him awake and John opened his eyes to find the nurse eyeing him with concern. "Could I have some water?" John asked. His throat felt dry and scratchy. The nurse handed him a cup with a straw and he took a few swallows before handing it back. "Thanks."

She was checking his IV then she nodded. "Dr. Beckett left instructions that I'm to give you something for pain and to help you sleep. You need to rest, Major."

"The pain is doable and I'm tired enough to sleep on my own," John assured her. He could see she had her doubts, but eventually she let him be, slipping silently away. Once she was gone, John gave up any pretense of trying to sleep. Instead he shifted up a bit more so he could watch his teammates.

Ford was twitching in his sleep and mumbling beneath his breath. John found himself wanting to slip out of bed to touch him. To see for himself, yet again, that his second in command had his hands and feet attached. But John didn't leave his bed or touch Ford for fear of waking him.

He turned his head to stare at Rodney. He looked eerily still and John leaned closer, wanting to make sure he was breathing. He wished McKay would say something, to remind John that his tongue was till intact. A moment later he got his wish when Rodney cried out, a choked sound, then he was sitting up, eyes wide and wild, one hand clapped over his mouth.

John knew he was caught up in a nightmare and he slid from his bed, pausing to grab the IV bag before it snagged on him. But he dropped it to the floor as he moved to Rodney's side. "Easy, McKay," John said softly, letting one hand fall on the broad shoulder. "You're okay...it's just a dream."

"A...a dream," Rodney whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing them. Then he opened them and stared at Sheppard, reaching out to touch him on the arm. "You're real."

"I'm real," John confirmed. "And you're back in Atlantis and safe. You can sleep, Rodney. I'll watch over you." It was the least he could do. He couldn't protect them from those awful illusions, but John could watch over his team now. He could offer some measure of comfort. To that end he pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down. "Go back to sleep," he ordered, his voice soft but firm.

Rodney nodded, rolling onto his side to face Sheppard. Slowly he let his eyes close and after a time he began snoring.

John shifted in the chair, trying to find a position where his ribs didn't ache, and then he let his own eyes close. But he didn't sleep. He just listened to the others breathing.

At some point John realized he had fallen asleep. His head ached, his neck had a crick in it and his pain stabbed at his ribs. He shifted upright and made to rise, with the intention of slipping into bed before Beckett or the nurse appeared, only to find out he was too late. Beckett was standing beside him, glowering. John winced. He had nothing to say in his own defense.

"Get back in bed," Carson ordered, reaching out to snag Sheppard's arm to ease him to his feet.

"I need to go use the bathroom first," John countered. He studied Beckett's face to try and judge just how angry he was. But the Scotsman looked more worried than upset. "Rodney woke up and I just...I wanted to make sure he was alright," John stated.

Carson nodded. "I figured as much. He was still gripping Sheppard's arm, but he let go as his eyes fell on the IV line. He followed the tubing to the bag on the floor. "Bloody hell! This does no good, major, if the fluids aren't dripping into the vein!"

John had forgotten about it. "I don't really need it anymore, do I? I feel better." It was a bit of a lie, but one he was willing to tell. He needed to be released and he needed to talk to Beckett.

"I'll take it out for now," Carson allowed, as he pulled the tape off and eased the needle out. He checked for bleeding then pulled a Band-Aid out of his pocket. "Use the facilities then back to bed with you," he said, nudging Sheppard towards the back where the bathroom was located.

"Can we talk for a minute?" John asked, as they reached the door.

Carson nodded. "Of course. Are you in pain?"

John debated on whether or not to keep lying. He settled for as much of the truth as he felt comfortable with. He didn't want Beckett fussing over him. He wasn't the one who needed help right now. "I'm a little sore," John allowed. "But I'll be fine. I'm worried about my team. I spoke with Teyla last night and she told me how they didn't want to be alone."

"Aye...and that's not surprising," Carson stated.

"I guess not," John agreed, but he couldn't hide his concern. "Teyla also told me that she and Ford and Rodney don't really want to talk to Heightmeyer about what happened. She said they're ready to talk about it. Which...I can understand. I watched what they suffered through and it's not something you want to remember. If they talk about it they have to relive it."

Carson scrubbed a hand over his face and heaved a weary sigh. "That's understandable, but they need to talk about it. If they don't they won't be able to deal with it and move on. And I can't keep sedating them."

John nodded. "I know. Look...I need you to release me so I can talk to Heightmeyer first. Maybe she has an idea of what I can do to help them."

"I'd really like to keep you under my supervision for at least another day," Carson replied.

"I promise to be good and rest, after I talk to Heightmeyer." John meant what he said. He meant it because he knew he needed to be strong so that he could help his teammates. John knew he was the only one who really could help them. There was no one else who would understand the horror they had been subjected too. The horror he had forced upon them, unwillingly. Illusion or not, it had felt real to them at the time and they would not be able to let go of it easily. It was going to haunt them if they didn't deal with it. John wasn't going to let that happen.

Apparently his expression conveyed his concern and his sincerity, because Carson nodded at him. "Okay then, I'll release you but I want you to check back in tonight. If I don't like what I see you're spending the night back here, hooked up to another IV."

John could live with that. "Fair enough," he agreed. "Can you call Heightmeyer and tell her I'll be there in about twenty minutes? I want to shower and change first."

"I thought you needed the bathroom?" Carson countered.

"I can wait till I get to my room," John replied, smiling a bit because he knew Beckett was teasing him. "So you'll call?"

Carson nodded. "I'll call. But I want you to get something to eat before you see her. Understood?"

John smiled. "Understood." He gave a mock salute then headed out the door. He reached his room, showered, changed and munched on a powerbar before brushing his teeth and heading out the door. Exactly twenty minutes later he reached Heightmeyer's office. She was waiting for him.

"Come in, Major," Kate invited, stepping aside so he could enter her office.

"Did Dr. Beckett tell you why I'm here?" John asked, as he stepped inside. He felt uncomfortable being here. The last time he'd come had been to suggest to Heightmeyer that she talk to Teyla. He'd barely stepped a foot inside then. Psychiatrists made him edgy. He'd had to deal with them far too often in the past. Mandatory post mission sessions were a pain in the ass and John had long ago learned to do and say the right thing to get a pass for the next mission. So far he had managed to keep out of any mandatory sessions on Atlantis. But he reminded himself that he was here for his team, which made it something he could deal with.

Kate gestured for him to take a seat. "He didn't say much other than the fact that your team might not want to talk to me."

John ignored the chair she pointed to and headed for the window. He looked out over the water and took a moment to collect his thoughts. After a moment he turned to look at Heightmeyer. "I know that my team have all spoken to you in the past. But Teyla told me that they're not ready to talk about what happened. Having been witness to it, I can understand why. But I know they need to talk to someone. I don't who else they could talk to."

"Do you think I can help them?" Kate countered, her expression carefully neutral.

"I hope so," John replied, and then he decided to be totally honest with her. "The thing is...you can't really understand what it was like for them. The fact that they weren't really tortured, that it only happened in their heads...it doesn't change the fact that it feels real to them."

Kate nodded, her expression now thoughtful. "How was it for you, Major? Having to watch them being tortured."

John realized what she was doing and he offered a half smile. "This isn't about me. It's about my team. I want to help them."

"I know you do." Kate's own smile was soft and full. "I think I may have a way to do that."

"I'm listening." And John was. He moved to Heightmeyer's desk and perched on the corner, sucking in a grunt as his ribs protested the motion. Then he locked his eyes on the pretty face in front of him.

Kate shifted to sit in the chair facing Sheppard. "I think group therapy would work better. All of you together, that way you can be each other's support system. And, for the most part, I can simply observe. Unless I'm needed."

John's first reaction was that group therapy would be a mistake. They all felt so raw and open and vulnerable. He knew how hard it was to show weakness to others. None of them were particularly good at it. But then he thought about it for a moment and he decided Heightmeyer's suggestion was as good an option as any. It was certainly better than not making any attempt to get past this. Which was all he really wanted to do. "I'll talk to them about it," John conceded. That said, he straightened up, gripping the edge of the desk with one hand when a wave of dizziness hit him, and he must have grayed out a moment because suddenly Heightmeyer was there, guiding him over and down into a nearby chair.

"I'm calling Dr. Beckett," Kate stated, reaching for her earpiece, which was on the desk.

"No…I'm fine!" John grabbed for her arm to pull her back. "I just moved too fast. I'm okay." The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in the infirmary. Plastering a smile on his face to convince her he was telling the truth, John rose to his feet. The dizziness had passed. "I'll contact you once I've spoken to everyone. About a time and stuff."

Kate nodded. "All right. I'll be waiting. We can set things up any time you're ready."

John was grateful for that. "Thanks." He let her walk him to the door then he stepped into the nearest transporter. He touched the panel and soon found himself in the hallway outside Rodney's lab. For all John knew Rodney was still sleeping in the infirmary, but he figured he'd take a chance on finding the astrophysicist hard at work.

But when John entered the lab, the only person there was Radek, muttering to himself in Czech. John froze as an image popped into his head. Rodney...strapped down. Helpless. The knife of the robed man covered in blood. Rodney's mouth stained red. The sounds of muted screams...

Hands clapping over his ears, John willed the voices and the images to disappear. But instead they intensified and he could see, all too vividly, the skewer poking it's way through Rodney's temples.

"Major?"

It was the sound of Radek's voice that yanked John out of the memory. His stomach had coiled into knots and he pushed past Zelenka, practically running into the bathroom to puke until he felt like his stomach was going to turn inside out. After a time he realized Zelenka was hovering.

"I call Dr. Beckett...yes?"

"No!" John stumbled over to the sink, rinsed his mouth then splashed his face with cold water. He accepted the towel that Zelenka held out to him. "I'm okay." He realized he was saying that a lot today, only John wasn't sure whom it was he was trying to convince. He wiped his face then folded the towel and laid it on the sink. "Do you know where Rodney is?"

Zelenka shook his head. "He was supposed to go to his room to rest, but he does not answer when I radio him."

John wasn't all that surprised to hear that. "I'll find him." He had to lock his knees before taking his footstep out of the bathroom, but each step was more certain and he was nearly out the door when Zelenka called out to him.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

A faltered step and John turned to face the other man, a crooked smile on his face. "Just give Rodney some time," he said firmly.

Zelenka stared at him a moment then said, "I meant all of you."

John wished that there was something Zelenka could do. But he knew that he and his teammates would have to struggle through this on their own for the most part. "Thanks," he said, his voice little more than a whisper. There was nothing else to say. Turning back around, John walked out.

It wasn't until he was in the transporter and the doors were sliding shut that he realized he was shaking.