PROTECTIVE INSTINCTS part 6

A/N once again, thank you all so much for the reviews you've sent. I'm turnong into a real fb junkie!

Beckett woke up with a groan. His head hurt, his stomach roiled in the most unpleasant way, and he didn't know where he was, except that it was cold and hard. He risked opening his eyes, and saw Sheppard sitting on the opposite side of the room from him, back against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, elbows resting on his knees. His head was resting on his arms, and the gun dangled loosely from the Major's grip, but Carson had no illusions that he wouldn't use it.

The doctor realised he was lying on the floor, and it was most uncomfortable. Carefully, giving every consideration to his aching head, he pushed himself up, slowly. The world tilted, spun lazily, then settled , which was more than Carson could say for his stomach. He propped himself up against the wall, mirroring Sheppard, then gave a short hiss of pain as he tried to lean on his injured hand.

Sheppard's head came up quickly as he realised the doctor was back in the land of the living. "You ok, Doc?" he asked.

Beckett felt the side of his head that was sore, and encountered sticky, almost dried blood. So. He hadn't been out for too long then. He started to nod, thought better of it, then answered, "I'd be a lot better if someone hadn't used my head as a battering ram."

The man across from him had the grace to look abashed. "Sorry about that Doc. I just- I just had to get away. I knew they wouldn't let me go, so I brought you along as hostage. Sorry," he offered again.

Beckett contented himself with a short grunt of acknowledgement, then leaned back and closed his eyes again. Gradually the dizziness was improving, though he was sure he had a mild concussion. Again. He felt cloth around his sore hand, and looked down. Crimson fabric, the sort the scrubs were made from was wrapped around the bruised knuckles, and Beckett regarded it curiously, realising that Sheppard must have bandaged it while he was out of his senses.

He looked over to Sheppard again, and saw that the man had returned to his previous position. "How are you doing, lad?" he asked gently.

"Oh, I'm just fine." He replied. Carson could see that Sheppard was trembling, from cold or something else, he wasn't sure.

"We should get you back to the infirmary," he said, then recoiled slightly, as the Major's head shot up, and he looked at him with fever bright eyes.

"No, no, not going back. Not going back there, no." He started to rock slightly, back and forth. "Can't make me, not going back. Sorry, doc, sorry, shouldn't have brought you into this. Not your fault, but not going back there, ever." The rocking picked up apace.

Carson looked on, feeling helpless. "I can't help you here, laddie, but maybe I can find a way to stop this back at the infirmary."

John looked at him again, the rocking momentarily stilled. "They're winning, Carson," he said softly. "They're winning. I can't keep this up anymore. It's only a matter of time. They'll find me, and when they do, it'll be restraints and drugs, and it won't help. It won't help, because whatever they did, its still there, and it won't go away until I've done what they want. And I can't do it. I won't do it, but I'll have to, because in the end I'll give in. I won't be able to stop it for ever, and then all this will be gone, and it will be my fault, and you'll all have gone too and you'll all hate me and- I can't do this anymore, I can't do this…"

His voice trailed away into silence, and the rocking started again. Beckett stared, not sure what to say. He watched as Sheppard became increasingly agitated, finally getting up and beginning to pace.

John Sheppard knew he was losing it. Dragging Beckett here had proved that. The voices were incessant, never letting up, never letting him think clearly for himself. He was finding it harder and harder to stay oriented to where he was, on Atlantis, or Suventa. His bare feet slapped the ground as he got up and began to pace, hoping the movement would help to clear his head, just a little, just enough to let him think.

"Major, I'm sure there's more we can do, if only you'd let me try."

The pacing stopped, and in a flash, Sheppard was invading Beckett's personal space, fists twisted in the front of the doctor's white coat, eyes blazing. He shook the unfortunate medic like a terrier with a rat.

"Why can't you understand! I'm NOT going back to be poked and prodded and experimented on. You don't know… you don't understand…"

He let go abruptly, the anger dissipating as fast as it had come, leaving him exhausted, hurting, shaking, scared. He avoided eye contact with Beckett, who was rubbing at his sore chest where Sheppard had held on so tightly. As suddenly as it had started, the attack was over, and Sheppard retreated again, shambling, pacing unsteadily, muttering.

"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to…sorry, not your fault…wanted to…"

Beckett couldn't catch the rest, but he began to feel truly afraid, not for himself, though he was apprehensive about what the Major might do next, but for the man in front of him, who was surely losing it. He sat back against the wall, feeling the solidity, a reassuring bulk, and wondered what would happen next. He knew they'd be found soon, the lifesigns detector in the control room would show them up soon enough, but he seriously wondered what it was he was going to do when they eventually got the major back to the infirmary.

After a few moments, booted feet could be heard getting closer. Sheppard looked up again, face frantic. He turned to stare at Beckett, and the doctor was struck by the expression of bleak helplessness that was in the Major's eyes.

"Help me, Carson, please. Please don't let them-"

Whatever else Sheppard was going to say was lost as the soldiers skidded around the corner, training weapons on both men. Bates was in the front, pointing a P90 directly at the Major.

"Doctor Beckett," he said, looking briefly in the doctor's direction. "Are you alright?"

"I'm ok," replied Carson, "But we need to get Major Sheppard back to the infirmary."

Sheppard scrambled to his feet, bringing up the gun again. "I am not going back." He said, though Beckett wasn't sure if he meant the infirmary, or the planet. One of the medics approached Beckett, carrying a medical kit, and Carson waved him away, then had a second thought, and asked for the kit to be brought back. He rummaged around inside, finally finding what it was he was looking for. Nodding to the medic, they prepared a syringe of sedative between them. It was done so quickly that Sheppard hadn't realised, until he heard Beckett say, "Right then, Major, you're safe here now son. Let us help."

Carson gestured to Bates to manoeuvre his men to take Sheppard. John's eyes narrowed.

"Don't," was all he said.

"Major, you know we only want to help you."

"No, I don't," replied Sheppard. "I can help myself, stop all of this right now. No more, no more voices or pain or…" he raised the gun to his own temple.

"NO!" shouted Beckett, distracting the Major just long enough that Bates was able to take him down in a flying tackle. More soldiers piled on top, restraining the Major, who fought back for all he was worth.

Beckett hated to do this, but John needed more help than he really knew. He approached him with the syringe, again. Sheppard's eyes opened wide, pupils dilated with fear. In his confused state, he wasn't sure if he was on Atlantis, or the planet, but one thing he was sure about, they weren't going to do this to him again. He saw Beckett looming over him with the needle poised, and something within him snapped. Suddenly he went absolutely still, just as Carson was about to plunge in the needle.

Beckett stopped suddenly, and Bates shouted for him to get on with it.

"No," said Carson, voice suddenly flat and emotionless. "You can let him go now"

"What?" began Bates, but got up anyway. Beckett knelt down next to John, favouring his injured hand, and looked sadly into the wide open eyes of his friend.

"It's alright," he said heavily, "The Major won't give us anymore trouble just now."

"Is he dead?" asked Bates fearfully.

"No, he's…just not there anymore."

And it was true. John Sheppard had simply gone away. And, on Suventa, Councillor Jaq'an allowed himself a small smile as the receptor of the device finally beeped a warning that the subject had achieved the desired state of receptiveness.

TBC