AN: Oh my, there was a lot of screen screams, head banging and shouts at us! Didn't we say we were evil...mmmmm, yes, yes we did say we were evil...

Not the Daddy…part 33

Pregnancy clock: 6 weeks postpartum

"He never should've been left alone!"

"Elizabeth, even Kate said her findings didn't match up to suicidal behavior, I bloody well can't explain what the devil he was doing, but it doesn't make sense!"

"What doesn't make sense is why my second in command is in there, lying in that bed, from another attempted suicide, when everyone else let him! Where was his -"

John could dimly hear the argument taking place somewhere away from him, and he wanted to tell them to stop – that it wasn't their fault – but he just didn't care enough to get his eyes open and face the world. He knew where he was, and why, and as much as it pissed him off, he was also ashamed of it.

He remembered letting go of the rail, remembered falling and desperately trying to grab on before it was too late – and then it had been too late. He had known in that instant that he was going to die, and he didn't even know why. He wasn't suicidal – really wasn't. But he was the only one who knew it, and then he had gone and spoken louder through actions than thoughts, and none of it made any damn sense at all. If he couldn't make heads or tails of it, how could he expect anyone else to?

Tugging at his arms, he wasn't surprised to feel the restraints. Nothing surprised him anymore.

"Sheppard?"

"Rodney?" This time he did open his eyes.

McKay was in the chair, always the damn chair, and when John got out of here this time, he was going to throw the thing over the balcony. Then maybe he'd quit waking up to find his friends torturing themselves by waiting at his bedside. He didn't deserve it.

Rodney was watching him, and the earlier depression and flatness that McKay had been wallowing in was gone, and now his eyes sparked with anger. Sheppard wished he could disappear and not face that anger, even while he knew that McKay wasn't going to let him.

"Do you need anything? A gun, maybe? Because these pathetic attempts are beginning to grow old. If you're so intent on finishing it, then let's do it."

John blinked in the face of the ferocity. He'd expected McKay's anger, his heat, his fury – but this carefully controlled coldness took him by surprise, and hurt, badly. John knew he could return Rodney's anger with his own – god knows, he was probably more angry over recent events than anyone else had a right to be, but he couldn't deny what he'd done. He could do a lot of things, but none of them would undo what he HAD done. Instead of shouting, and railing, or turning away, Sheppard startled himself by admitting, "I don't want to finish it." The admitting wouldn't have been so bad, but his voice had come out broken, and weary - pitiful.

"Really? Because the pills and alcohol, and the dive off the balcony, they're saying differently." McKay was as coldly furious as a mountain blizzard.

"No, listen to me, McKay," John tried to lean towards Rodney – tried to eek out some warmth from the man who was more than his friend, because he needed it more than he needed to breathe right now, "Something's wrong, and I don't know what, but this isn't me – I don't want to die. I promise, I'm not lying." Desperately, he all but begged Rodney to believe him.

But McKay wasn't on the same line, or maybe he was, and he didn't want to believe. "You're right, something is wrong." Gone was the anger directed at John, and in it's place, Rodney focused it in on himself, and bitterly he continued, "we let you down, not once, but twice – if Ronon hadn't taken to shadowing you, I'd be looking at you in a body bag."

Rodney's voice was starting to shake, his body rigid and painful for Sheppard to look at it, but he felt he owed McKay the right to keep watching, and not look away. Maybe it was a way to punish himself for causing Rodney this pain.

McKay kept talking, oblivious to the damage it did to John with each word. "Do you have any idea what that's like? Knowing that one second more, and you wouldn't be here?"

Rodney's control snapped with that final declaration, and he dropped his face into his hands, pulling his eyes off John's stony face, taking ragged breaths, and all John could do was lie there and feel utterly helpless…and full of blame.

Sheppard had been on the verge of crying more than a few times lately, but now…now he did. He cried inside, where no one could see – quietly, painfully, and privately. After everything he'd been through, to land at this place – now. He had everything to live for, and nothing to die for, so why was this happening? Why did he have no control?

"I…don't," he took a steadying breath and tried again, "Rodney – I can't explain it, but I need you to believe in me, please? We've been through a lot together, and you've always trusted me. Trust me now – I'm not doing this willingly."

Lifting his head out of his hands, Rodney shook his head slowly. "Who does? The fact is, whether you want to or not, you are. We…I…gave you space, I thought it was okay, and everyone did what you wanted – and you almost died because of it. When you get out of here, I'm moving in, and we're going to get you through this, do you understand?" Rodney's eyes blazed with the fervor of his cause. "I'm not going to lose you. I'm just not. If trusting you means losing you, then I'm sorry, but I can't."

The soft speech was so out of character for Rodney, that John realized just how much damage had been done. He started to say something, but McKay shook his head again at him.

Reluctantly, he kept his mouth shut. He let his eyes drift down, and tried to imagine this was all a bad dream, and he'd wake up, with everything like it was before. But then he wondered what before he'd want to see? Before Lily, before Eradia, before he'd swallowed those pills?

Not before Lily, he knew that with certainty, and that knowledge provided some small amount of comfort.

He was withdrawing in on himself, giving McKay the space he obviously needed, while trying to come to grips with what was going on, when a commotion shocked him back into alertness.

The infirmary doors were opening, and there were a lot of shouts while a team rushed in – a lot of people converged on a gurney being pushed quickly to the trauma area, and then Ronon – why was Ronon following so closely?

Sheppard thought hard but all he could come up with was Teyla, but Teyla wasn't on any missions, so why would she be hurt?

"Rodney?" he asked, confused.

McKay was getting to his feet, growing pale, and Sheppard saw his eyes lock with Ronon's and knew that Rodney understood what was happening, but that left him still not knowing. "Who is it?" he tried again, louder and stronger, his need to find out growing with each second.

"Dreya."

McKay didn't look at him. He was watching the team working frantically to save the life on the bed, and he looked as pole axed in the gut as Sheppard felt.

With startling clarity, everything snapped into reality, and Sheppard felt almost dizzy with the realization. He hadn't been the suicidal one, Dreya had, and now she was lying there dying, and John had failed to be what he was supposed to be, the buffer for her and Lily, and if she died, he'd never forgive himself – sonofabitch! He'd known he wasn't suicidal, had known something was wrong, but why didn't he think that it was her?

How could he have been so blind, and stupid?

Pulling against the restraints, he panicked. He needed to go to her, be there, and keep her fighting – "God damn it, let me out!" he swore…with each second he felt his anxiety creep higher and higher.

Rodney managed to tear his eyes off the unfolding drama, and saw what Sheppard was doing. "I – I'm sorry -" he stuttered, freezing from the impact of understanding.

John stopped fighting against the bonds, and closed his eyes, trying to gather some semblance of control. After he'd gathered himself, he opened his eyes, and fixed McKay in his sights. "I'm not blaming you, Rodney, but let me go – I need to be with her."

McKay acted as if on autopilot, tugging the Velcro restraints off one wrist and then the other, but Sheppard was already pushing forward and helping, only succeeding in tangling in each others hands before he was finally free.

Stumbling from the fatigue from the past two suicide attempts, and subsequent treatments, he almost fell on his face, but a hand from Rodney kept him upright, and together they closed the distance to her bed, watching as Beckett snapped orders.

She was unresponsive, and John couldn't keep his hand from reaching to touch her face. A nurse glared because he was in the way, but when he felt warmth on his fingertips, he started breathing again.

Carson's notice extended to them. "Colonel, get back to your bed, before you collapse and I'll have two patients to deal with – Rodney, what are you thinking, get him out of here!" the doctor swore at them both.

Rodney tugged at his arm, and John shook him off. "No, I can help – let me stay, please." John pierced Beckett with a soul wrenching look. "This is my fault, Doc. I should've recognized the bond for what it was, what it meant, maybe my being here will help."

Beckett was shaking his head and mumbling to himself, but he didn't order Sheppard removed. Rodney brought him a chair, and John dropped thankfully into it, getting as close as he could, and taking Dreya's free arm, the one they weren't poking full of holes and machinery, and lifted it to his forehead. The touch seemed like the right thing to do.

"I'm sorry, god, I'm so sorry…you've got to stay." He found the words just falling from his lips and John didn't even know why he was talking.

At some point, he gleaned enough to know that they'd gotten her stabilized, and that she'd overdosed on pills. Watching as Beckett had her stomach pumped made him shudder, knowing that the same thing had played out days before, but with him being the one lying there.

Why hadn't they made the connection? The bond had been out in the front for so long, maybe they'd just figured it wasn't an essential part of anything after the baby was born. He sure hadn't felt much from it since then, his own emotions had being overwhelming enough that John didn't think he would've been able to figure out hers from his in those first few weeks after, anyway.

But on Eradia, he'd felt the first stirrings of suicidal thoughts, and he'd been too shocked, and even embarrassed to speak up. If he had, things wouldn't be like they were now, which was a total disaster.

"It's not your fault," Ronon said.

Sheppard didn't meet the runner's eyes. "It is my fault," he argued.

"No," Ronon countered. "If anyone's, it's ours. When the mind isn't right, it's up to your friends to find the truth. We missed the truth, Sheppard – not you. You were affected by the bond."

"He's right," agreed Rodney. "I can't believe I missed this. I didn't think…the bond lasts for a full moon after the birth, that would be about now on Eradia."

"Fine," snapped Sheppard. "You guys want to join the guilty club, there's plenty of room, now shut up." The uncharacteristic loss of temper could only be blamed on how crappy he was suddenly feeling. The chair was too hard, the lights too bright, the noise – too loud. Everything was starting to overwhelm him, and John wanted to be left alone.

Sheppard could see now that Dreya was going to make it. Carson had finished pumping her stomach, and now she was sleeping it off, just like he'd been after his attempt. John could see Beckett conferring with another doctor over her test results, but his easy stance told Sheppard all he needed to know. She'd been saved, and that was all that mattered.

Inwardly, he knew it wasn't over for either of them. The bond was almost finished – if not already. Maybe that's why she finally did it. The bond had transferred the worst of her feelings to him, and he'd sought the only answer his mind could give, an end to it…but if the bond had begun to wane, she would've been left to cope on her own, and resorted to the pills, just as he had. Why weren't the pills locked up?

But somehow he knew that just because the reason for his actions was staring them all in the face, they weren't going to walk away and pat him on the back with a 'your fine, now', because he knew he wasn't. Whether it was induced by the bond or not, John had tried to kill himself – twice. That knowledge alone shook him to the core.

And now he had to deal with the guilt over Dreya's attempted suicide, and what would've happened if they'd been too late…

"You found her," John said to Ronon. "You knew." His mercurial temper was subdued again.

"I had a hunch," Ronon answered casually.

"Thank god for hunches," he murmured. "Cause you seem to be having them at the right time."

The runner had been saving him a lot, and now he'd saved Dreya. He'd earned his Wheaties.

"And you, Colonel, should be in bed."

Beckett startled him. He looked away from Ronon, and frowned at the stern visage of Carson.

"I'm fine."

He didn't even know why he said it. They'd been butting heads entirely too much lately, and he knew Carson was only doing it because he cared, and because it was his job, but probably more because he cared than the other – yet, still John argued the obvious.

Rodney snorted behind him. "I'll take him back, Carson."

"Before I go, she'll be okay, right?" He needed to know.

Beckett folded his arms in the way that screamed 'I'm strictly business now' before nodding. "Aye, she'll make it, thanks to Ronon, but she'll be sick for a day or so, and I'll be starting her on some antidepressants. If I didn't think the bond was all but over, you'd be joining her, but as it is, she'll be seeing Kate and the medications…it should help."

And Doc was looking all kinds of guilt, making Sheppard almost feel sorry for the man. But there was a small part inside him that was still railing at all the crap that he'd had to go through, and felt a small flash of satisfaction at someone else feeling like hell.

He felt McKay pulling his arm off the chair, "Time for bed, Sheppard," Rodney instructed, the only thing clueing John in to Rodney's still off-kilter state was the edge of kindness to McKay's normally harsh tone.

John reluctantly let himself be led back to the bed, and he stared at the restraints with barely concealed disgust. "I want to go back to my bed," he suddenly said. He couldn't face sleeping here. The restraints were a constant reminder of what had happened, and what hadn't happened.

McKay frowned at him. "This is your bed."

"My room," Sheppard hissed, looking over his shoulder and seeing that Beckett was gone.

"Carson will kill me." But McKay was considering it. Finally, he shrugged, and handed John the robe by the bed. "Fine, but like I said, I'm moving in, and you're just going to have to deal with it."

"I don't need -" John started to protest, but Rodney lifted his eyebrow at him.

"Yes, you do," McKay said. "Bond or no bond, you tried to kill yourself, and now Dreya's done it as well. You can't stand there and tell me you aren't affected. Even if you did, I wouldn't believe you. Remember you asked me to trust you, and I said if losing you was what it meant, then I couldn't – I wasn't kidding. I don't trust you…not yet. It was the bond, but it was also you. You didn't stop it, Sheppard. You didn't call me, you didn't ask for help, you just did it, and I'm sorry, but I'm not giving you the chance to do it again."

John sighed, seeing hopes of being treated normal go flying out the window. He took the robe and shrugged into it. His eyes drifted back to the bed with the restraints, then to Rodney. It really sucked when both choices were equally bad, but ultimately one would be worse than the other, and having Rodney stick to him like bad dryer lint was better than getting into that bed with the restraints and bad memories.

"You'll get your way, but Rodney – if you snore, I will hit you, and I want to stop and see Lily."

McKay's grin was almost worth agreeing for. "I don't snore, and fine, but you get to change her diaper, that's disgusting…"

As they snuck out of the infirmary, John knew there'd be hell to pay when Beckett caught up with them. But sometimes, the price was worth paying.

TBC