INSOMNIA...part 10

John hated this. Hated being watched. Sure Beckett had set him up in a private room. A small, suite-like, room that John had never seen before. Beckett told him he thought it was for the best. That way they could better control his visitors. But John knew what he really met. They could better control him. Only one doorway to freedom and John knew there would be a guard posted there. On the other hand, he did appreciate the fact that Beckett was giving him privacy for his breakdown, and the fact that he was being allowed to wear his own sweats. Might as well be comfortable while he fell apart.

After another exam, John found himself hooked up to an IV, then a tray was brought and he was ordered to eat. He stared at the food. Toast and some kind of soup, the smell of which made his stomach clench and nausea roil through him. But John took a small bite of toast and forced it down.

"I know you're not happy about this, Colonel," Carson said, as he fiddled with the IV line. "I wish it could be different but..."

"I know." John winced at the sharpness in his tone. He didn't blame Beckett for this. The man looked as exhausted as John felt and he knew he was to blame for it. "Look...Doc...I'm sorry. I know I'm a lousy patient. I'm just...I'm not good at this. Ya know?"

Carson patted his shoulder. "Aye...I know." He offered a smile then drew John's attention to his IV. There were two bags on the pole. One was small and pale blue. "This is something that...I hope...will help you to sleep. It's strong and...I'll be honest with you here...it's used more for psychiatric treatments -"

"So now you think I'm crazy?" John exploded, shoving the tray table away from him and glaring at Beckett.

"No...I don't." Carson kept his voice soft and calm. "I think we need to try other things, Colonel. Because if you don't get some sleep soon...you truly are going to break down and Atlantis needs you. We all do."

John felt shame wash over him. He knew he was overreacting. He knew part of that was the fact he was so damn exhausted. "Sorry," he mumbled, shifting under the covers. He cleared his throat then asked. "So...what will this do to me? I mean...how will it make me feel?"

Carson sighed. "Good question. To be honest, I don't know for certain. It's different for everyone. You might feel a bit high. You might simply feel groggy. I'm hoping it will relax you enough to help you sleep."

"I see." John could tell Beckett was hedging on the truth. "How soon before I feel something?" he asked.

"Should be fairly soon," Carson allowed. "Rest and a bit later Kate will be in to talk to you."

John nodded and turned on his side, facing towards his IV. "Night, doc," he whispered, closing his eyes. He heard Beckett walk away and John prayed for sleep to claim him.

oOo

He did sleep. But it was filled with dark and twisted images. His dreams and memories and new and old demons colliding into a kaleidoscope of colors that bled away to black and white. John came awake with a start, sheets and blankets twisted around him, body trembling, his skin sheened in a cold sweat and he felt sick to his stomach.

A nurse had been sitting in a corner chair and she jumped up with a basin, getting it under him just in time.

"Water..." John croaked, when he was done puking up his insides. He let her hold the glass since he was shaking too much to hold it himself, then he laid back against the pillows, trying to straighten the blankets. He was damp and cold.

"I'll get Doctor Beckett," said the nurse.

John didn't reply. He simply closed his eyes and curled up into a ball of misery.

oOo

Beckett stopped the treatment after two days. John did a lot of sleeping but it was restless and filled with nightmare images. Kate tried talking to him and John made the effort, only he didn't remember what he said to her. Beckett told him it was the drugs that made him forget. So John spent a transition day puking and shivering and not sleeping, then he felt clear-headed enough to accept a visitor. He saw Beckett's surprise when he asked for Ronon.

John realized he must have actually dozed off. He came awake with a start when a strange scent filled his nostrils. He opened his eyes and turned his head to see a candle burning on the table next to his bed. John crinkled his nose. "What is that?"

"Kith," Ronon said, pushing away from the wall to stand beside John's bed. "My people have always used it."

"It stinks." John was too far gone to be anything but honest right now. Besides which, he knew Ronon was all about honesty.

Ronon shrugged. "You get used to it."

John sighed. "Why are you burning it?"

"Why did you want to see me?" Ronon countered.

"Straight to the point, that's what I like about you," John said, deflecting the question. He pushed up against the pillows and rubbed his eyes. He felt like there was sand beneath his eyelids. Then he heaved a sigh, looked at Ronon and said, "How do you fight your demons?"

Ronon just looked at him for a long time before he said, "I accept them."

John grimaced. He was wondering if this was a mistake. Maybe Ronon didn't understand. "It's not that easy," he muttered.

"It's as easy as you want it to be." The scrape of a chair then Ronon was turning it so he could straddle the seat and rest his forearms on the back. "I've killed people, many people. Sometimes they weren't the enemy I believed them to be."

"Yeah...tell me about it," John interjected. Sumner hadn't been the enemy.

Ronon scratched his chin through his beard then said, "You can't save everyone. Some people don't want to be saved."

John knew who he was talking about. "Ford isn't there yet!" he snapped.

"You're afraid to accept the truth," Ronon countered, his tone sharp and blunt. "You don't accept the truth, you won't get past this."

"It's my job to save people!" John snapped.

Ronon shrugged. "You're a soldier. It's your job to kill. You do that to protect the people you're supposed to save. Sometimes you kill simply because you have too. Sometimes you kill because you want too. Sometimes you don't have a choice and sometimes...maybe...you even like it. Maybe it's no longer what you do but who you are."

John froze at that, at the truth he realized he was hiding from. That was his biggest fear. That he no longer killed to save people but that he killed because he didn't know anything else. A part of his mind argued against that being the truth. John knew he wasn't a cold-blooded killer, but sometimes he killed too easily and that scared the shit out of him. But that wasn't his only fear. "I've made a lot of mistakes...stupid mistakes," John whispered.

"Accept what you can't change." Ronon's tone was soft but the words echoed in the room.

"It's not that easy," John argued. God knew he wished it were.

Ronon stood up, putting the chair back in the corner. "Make it easy. No one can do that for you, Sheppard." That said, Ronon strode out of the room.

John wanted to call after him, to make him stay. There was something about Ronon's presence that was comforting and John couldn't figure out why. A part of him didn't care why, he just didn't want to be alone anymore and that was the clue, he suddenly realized. No one understood his demons other than Ronon. No one else could. Sure there were other soldiers on Atlantis. A whole platoon of Marines to protect the city and it's inhabitants. But even they wouldn't understand John's fears. Hell, he didn't really understand them, not the way Ronon -obviously - did.

It was tempting to climb out of bed and go after Ronon, but John knew he wouldn't get one foot out the door before his guard would call Beckett and Weir. So John stayed put, curling up again and closing his eyes. He let the darkness swirl over him, let the shadows dance in his head. He didn't even realize when he drifted into slumber. Didn't know that, for once, the demons slept with him.

THE END...of part 10