~ 8 ~

I fall face down onto my bed. It's only been an hour since the…kiss-to-end-all-kisses, but it burned into my brain the instant it happened. Sometimes I wish I could cut that part of my mind away. It'd be so nice to forget everything. Forget Angela and Jax and all the others. Forget all the loss… Maybe start all over again as someone completely new, but with no memories of the past, no nightmares, no…

John Sheppard.

Exactly!

I want to hate him, but I can't. I can't even be angry with the guy. He's not in his right mind. That look on his face when I yelled at him…gawd, I actually feel guilty about that. What if it's the last thing I ever say to him? Knowing the Colonel, he'll probably get himself killed or start some kind of intergalactic disaster or worse. He's kind of a danger magnet.

You told him not to get dead.

Yeah, well, I've told him lots of things. So far, he hasn't listened so well.

I know it's my fault, not his. Not the danger thing, he does that just fine on his own. No, I got him into this pheromone mess because of that damned device and my inability to calm my over-reacting libido. It's all me…and-

McKay!

I clench my teeth at the thought of that…that…uhg I'm gonna kill that man.

Now there's a positive life goal.

No, really. I've read enough books, spent enough time with the feds, I should be able to come up with any number of ways to take him out. Genius my ass. He'd never see it coming.

Only if it looks like an accident.

Of course it has to look like an accident. I'm not stupid. I'll have to do some thinking on this. He is a scientist, after all. It'll have to be classy, but vengeful enough to be adequate. And unfortunately duct taping him to a chair again isn't gonna cut it.

That was pretty funny though. Maybe duct tape and a little electric-

I can't believe I'm actually contemplating murder plots! There is something so wrong with me. Yes, I'm a sniveling mess. Let's face the fact that Dr. H. finally got what she wanted, a whole lot of tears. I cried so hard I started hyperventilating. And I couldn't talk anymore because I couldn't breathe so I just dropped to the floor like a puddle of pudding—Tapioca pudding, all lumpy and gross. And then Dr. H. is all "there-there," and "let it out." I wanted to scratch her eyes out for encouraging such a show. It wasn't helpful, it hurt.

A lot!

Maybe I'm PMSing.

It would make sense, a whole slew of hormones flooding my system in combination with the chemicals from the addiction in my brain. That's gotta be it.

Explains the constant need for chocolate.

Sure it does. Plus the random tears for no apparent reason.

Well, you have a reason.

No, I don't. Neither Col. Sheppard nor John Sheppard is reason enough for me to break down and sob like some little girl who just skinned her knee. It's pathetic. I'm freakin' ass pathetic!

So get over it.

And just how do I do that?

Leave.

I flip over onto my back and stare at the ceiling of my room. "What!" Leave? Where would I go? I can't go back to Earth, there's nothing for me. Plus, I couldn't leave Ronon. He'd never get through life without knowing how Friends and MacGyver finally end. That's a lot of shows to watch. Plus, I haven't even introduced him to Firefly or Buffy yet. No, I don't have anywhere to go.

I can't stay here. I roll off the bed and strip out of my 'business' uniform and get dressed for a kick-ass dance session. It's the only way I can think of the stave off the soon to be brain-buster of a headache. Those things hurt worse than getting shot.

And I know from where I speak.

As I'm getting dressed, I catch sight of myself in the bathroom mirror. My eyes are puffy and red, my lips swollen and my face in need of some serious spray-on tanner. All I need is a sickle and black cloak to look like Death, really.

Enough of this. I grab my CD pack and Ipod then head for the West Pier gym that is pretty much my place since no one else ever uses it. It's a long walk from the transporter so I'll get a warm-up jog in before dancing myself into an early grave.

Now there's a plan.

Maybe on the way back, I'll stop in the Control Room and ask Dr. Weir when she plans on sending someone back to I-zoola. It'd be nice to practice the routine on ice soon.

~ 8.5 ~

The wormhole engages and Elizabeth can hear Rodney over the radio. "What's wrong?" She can't understand him because he's…laughing. She turns to the technician. "Lower the shield."

"Their home early," the tech says with a wry grin.

Elizabeth shrugs. "What else is new?" Downstairs, Rodney practically saunters through the gate, still laughing and turns to face Ronon and Teyla as they help John come through, obviously in a lot of pain. And John never expresses pain. She taps her headset. "Dr. Beckett we have a medical situation in the gate room."

"Ah, bloody hell. What'd the Colonel go and do this time?"

"You'll have to tell me. See you soon." She ends the conversation with another tap then goes down the steps to join the team. "What happened?" John's to busy grimacing and clenching his teeth to speak and it looks like both Ronon and Teyla are trying their best not to laugh as hard as Rodney. "Please tell me the negotiations didn't-"

Rodney holds up a hand. "Everything's fine, Elizabeth. It's just that," he glances at John. "The Colonel decided to take it upon himself to teach a few of the kids of MRS-513 how to play football."

Elizabeth's brow rises and she tries not to chuckle. "He did, huh?" She presses her lips together tightly then forces a neutral expression. "I take it that didn't go so well, Colonel?" John grunts in pain.

Teyla cocks her head. "The children of the village are quite large, if you remember, Dr. Weir. Dr. McKay mentioned something about Summa Wrestlers?"

She smirks and nods. "Yes, I remember."

"It was supposed to be touch only," John moans. Rodney laughs again.

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth asks.

Rodney points a finger. "They tackled him. Four of them at one time."

Now both of her brows are up. "They could have killed you."

John's forehead creases. "Didn't they? I feel dead."

Just then the gurney arrives with Dr. Beckett in tow. He's given the run down and John is carefully hoisted onto the rolling bed. "Sounds like you threw out your back, Colonel. It happens sometimes as you get older."

"I'm not old," he growls through clenched teeth.

"Of course not." Carson looks to Teyla. "How big were these lads?"

"Quite large, actually."

Rodney holds his hands apart. "Big," he says huskily, grinning from ear-to-ear.

Carson orders the gurney to the infirmary and both Teyla and Ronon choose to follow their commander. "Ronon," Elizabeth calls. He turns to her and she hands him a note. "From Jax," she says, offering a slim smile.

Ronon pockets the note then catches up with the gurney. Elizabeth can hear John growl at Teyla and Ronon. "Go laugh at me elsewhere!"

Elizabeth grabs Rodney's arm before he can go after them. "What did you do?"

He flashes an exaggerated innocent look that puts her on edge. "Me? I didn't do anything."

"Rodney?"

He shakes his head. "I swear. I just stood on the sidelines and watched…and laughed…and laughed…" He throws up his hands. "All right. I might have cheered too." Then he's hissing another laugh.

She holds up a hand. "I get it. You do realize if he's seriously injured your team is grounded for the duration."

"What…? Elizabeth!"

She heads back up the stairs and he follows, whining as usual. "That's not fair."

"Perhaps not. But you must remember something, Dr. McKay."

"What?"

She turns to face him with a superior smile. "No one else is willing to work with you. You did blow up a solar system, remember." Then she heads to her office again.

"Not the whole solar system," he grumbles.

"Sorry about that interruption Dr. Heightmeyer," Carson says as he proceeds the gurney into the infirmary. "Now, as we were discussing."

"Don't you have-"

She motions to John and Carson shakes his head. "They have to run him through the scanner, find out what's ailing the lad. It'll be a few moments."

"It's about the pheromone device," she says, following him back into his office as John is wheeled away. John lifts his head hoping to catch more, but the sudden pain shooting down his legs makes him lie down again.

So the shrink is looking into the report? Great. By this time tomorrow, everyone's going to know about him and Jax.

Jax.

He's spent the last two days off-world feeling nothing but guilt. The football game was just his way of trying to get her out of his head for a little while. That look on her face. Stricken is the only word that comes to mind.

After she broke off their 'thing', he went back and read the report. He didn't see anything in it about addiction, but that didn't mean it wasn't true. Jax is extremely bright. She probably caught more of the medical and scientific stuff than he did. Besides, he can feel it. He knows she's right. Just stepping into that therapy room the other day made him hungry for her. He hasn't slept a full night since their last time together. And the headache is a not-so-subtle reminder of her hold on him. Though he has to admit it has been worse in the past. Maybe staying away from each other is a good idea. It worked for Ronon and Lt. Cadman that first day.

But after their first encounter, they had been staying away from each other, not consciously or intentionally, but through daily routine. And what happened? John turned into a stalker.

It's odd to think about how everything got started. That day in the corridor, Jax was definitely the aggressor. Even when they finally got together, she put the moves on him. But this arrangement of theirs had been his idea. He certainly became the aggressor, in more ways than one. He still doesn't like to think about that, no matter what she said, he should never have treated her that way.

And then he had to go and kiss her. She liked it as much as he did. Needed it as much as him. But then she pulled away. Damn she was pissed. But he also caught that flicker of panic in her eyes. On some level, he scares her. He just wishes he knew why.

The scan ends and they wheel him back to the central infirmary and pull a curtain around him. The nurse comes in to take his clothes, but he waves her off. "I can do it." She offers to take his boots off and he lets her. When she's gone, John struggles to sit up, his back throwing spasms of pain through his legs, like long icy needles. He starts to take off his vest and that simple motion of his arms makes his body scream, so he gives up and lies back down on his side.

The curtain sways and Carson appears, data pad in hand. "Well, Colonel, you've managed to do some damage."

"Well, if you're gonna do a job, do it right," he says through clenched teeth.

"You have musculoligamentous injuries of the lumbar spine," Carson says.

"That doesn't sound good."

"Because it's not. You also managed to tie up your sciatic nerve in some swollen muscle. You'll be needing a pain killer and a muscle relaxant before we can relieve that."

"Is that necessary?"

Carson sets the data pad aside and folds his arms. "Why don't you undress then let me know."

John closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Tried and failed. Bring on the drugs."

Carson nods. "Good to see you know when not to fight, son." He picks up the data pad. "They'll be along any moment. Now. You're going to need at least two weeks from duty, maybe three."

"Three weeks!"

"Possibly four. Lower back injuries can become chronic, lad. You don't want to cause permanent damage, do ya?" John frowns and grumbles to himself. Carson nods. "I didn't think so." He makes some notes. "Now, you're in overall good physical condition, so I don't see a problem with your recovery being relatively swift compared to sedentary patients. However, you will be needing therapy. Three times a week for the first week and then we'll go from there."

"I don't need to see Dr. Heightmeyer for my back, Carson."

Carson rolls his eyes and sighs. "Massage therapy, Colonel. Heat and ice, ultra sound, but no deep tissue massage until I give the go ahead." John's about to ask if it's necessary but keeps his mouth shut. Then Carson adds: "It should go without saying, but given the patient, I must…no strenuous physicality of any kind, including sparring with Teyla or Ronon. And you must refrain from any extracurricular activities involving the lower torso."

"Excuse me?"

"No sex," Carson raises his brows. "Clear enough?"

"I'm not-" Carson's head tilt is enough to stop him short. "What do you know?"

"Well, having just spoken with the lovely Dr. Heightmeyer regarding the pheromone incident, I've come to a bit of a conclusion about something." He narrows his gaze on John. "You lied to me, Colonel. Flat out lied to your CMO."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course. How have you been feeling lately? Any headaches? Unusual urges for a specific person's unclothed company?"

"Carson!"

"I'll take that as a yes." The nurse comes in with a needle and two white pills. She injects the syringe into John's arm and hands him the pills and a cup of water. He downs the meds that taste like chalk then lies back and waits for them to kick in and get him back on his feet. Carson's talking to the nurse. "We need a scan of the Colonel's brain, as well." He glances at John. "Just to make sure it's still in place."

The nurse nods and leaves them. "What're you up to Dr. Beckett?"

"Trying to find a way to save a young woman's sanity, if you don't mind."

"What?" John sits up onto his elbows and instantly regrets it. He slowly lies back onto the pillow.

"Hypothetically speaking. If a woman asks a man to leave her be, he should, don't you agree? Otherwise said lovely lady might find it necessary to leave her home and her friends…just to get some piece of mind."

John can feel the pain killer playing havoc with his higher reasoning abilities and the muscle relaxant turning his body into mush. "What are you saying Carson?"

"She ran away from home, Colonel."

"What?"

"Jax. She left Atlantis. Gated off-world."

John can't comprehend what Carson's saying. "When?"

"Two days ago."

"Because of me?" Of course because of me! What have I done now? Why didn't I do as she said, just stay away.

"Aye, son. To help you, it seems. So, I'm going to find a cure for you're…addiction…so she can come home."

"Where'd she go?" Carson shakes his head. John's brows wrinkle. "So you think it's real. This addiction is real?"

"I believe it's quite possible, aye. The brain is a powerful computer, handling millions upon millions of data bursts and responses. We have only scratched the surface of mapping it. These chemicals that you were exposed to the first time are very potent. Had the two of you been honest with me the first time around, I might have been able to include the information in my research…prevented this from happening. What's the worst symptom?"

"Headaches," he slurs. "When we're apart."

"I'm not surprised." Carson touches John's shoulder, but John can barely feel it. Carson's talking again, he sounds far away. "Tell me what happened. From that first time until now. Let's see if we can fix this mess for both your sakes."

John nods, his eyes spinning in their sockets. "Whatever you need. She needs to come back."

"Good lad."

"If only to keep Ronon from killing me."

Carson shakes his head. "And here I thought you were being altruistic."

John's feeling good now. The pain's ebbed and he's able to roll onto his back. Carson places pillows under his knees. "Nope…I'm selfish," he says. "I like having her around." He looks at the doctor. "Is that gonna go away once you fix me?"

Carson shrugs. "I don't know lad. I really don't know."