A/N: There are three story types that I will not do – Romance, Slash, and Crossovers. Just wanted to make that clear so that no one got any ideas.

I'm so impatient. The piranha went from gentle nibbles to going at me with a chainsaw. So I said 'stupid, stupid piranha' and started my next story earlier than anticipated just to make the nagging stop. I have to warn you, though, it's going to be a strange tale. I'm not sure whether it will hold a candle to Wrong End of a Leash, but there's going to be plenty of Shep-whump, so that should satiate your sadistic (ahem, mine included) needs. There will be movie, TV, and novel references, plus the occasional odd sea-chanty. Please don't let that deter you from reading. I labeled this story as humorous, because it is, but is more angsty than funny, and may become sad.

For those of you fellow SGA writers, think of the story this way; it's an accumulation of all the crap that's happened to him. If you have done a Shep-whump tale, then while reading, imagine the stuff you put him through to be a part of that crap that is going to beat down on him. Easier than being specific.

Also, This is a season two deal, despite the fact that I'm still stuck in season one and haven't seen season two yet. Most of what I know for two I got from the website and other stories, but certain characters abounding in season two may be vague and have a small presence - or none at all - and I apologize for that.

Just Keep Swimming

Author: Stealth Dragon, queen of metaphors

Rating: As always, T, but a light T. Very little swearing involved, mostly just a lot of angst.

Mandatory disclaimer – Stargate Atlantis and its characters are not mine. Mine! No, I said not mine. Mine! Precioussss! Shut up Gollum! The following characters, however, are mine – CJ aka Cheshire John, Ilian Moranga- a scientist, Kelna, Jy, various thugs, and the finally debuted legless otter mentioned in Leash. Also not mine are any TV, movie, song or book quotes mentioned anywhere in the story.

Synopsis – John Sheppard's starting to crack. Sometimes even the protector needs protecting.

- - - - - - - - - - -

I'd say the pressure's finally getting to dad but... what pressure? - Bart, from The Simpsons.

Mad as a Hatter twice as nasty – From my own personal collection of things I like to say. May end up in one of my own stories, I just haven't decided which one yet.

Part One

Lab Rat's Resolve, or Lack There-Of

I don't feel up to this. Go ahead, John, say it – say 'I don't feel up to this,' because you don't. You feel like crap, and unknown devices could cause unknown and adverse affects to an already 'not up to much' body.

John did feel like crap; headache, joint ache, muscle fatigue, and lungs that felt lined with cotton insulation that came up as mucus every time he coughed. But, deep down, he knew that wasn't the reason why his legs refused to take that final step onto the round glass window set in the floor. Staring into the darkness held back by the glass was like staring into a void, and the image of the glass cracking then breaking away – sending John to spiral into infinity – sent fingers of ice tapping along his spine. Plus, despite McKay's assurances that this recently discovered device was most likely used for medical purposes, John was reluctant to step on it and discover otherwise.

John shivered, then coughed, hacked, and finally spit a wad of mucus onto the metal floor.

" That's disgusting!" McKay shrilled. He was across from John, holding a scanning-device over the circle of glass. He was staring at John with a twisted-up expression of disapproval and disgust.

John glared vehemently back at the egotistical scientist across from him. " Gee, McKay, I didn't know my being ill was upsetting you so much. Glad to see you care. If you want, I could try to stop breathing. Would that make you feel better? Suck it up, McKay. Unless you've got a tissue handy, whatever's coming up is going on the nice, clean floor. It was too clean to begin with anyways."

McKay dug around in the pocket of his jacket, then tossed a wad of (hopefully) unused tissues at John. " There, cough your hairballs into those. Happy? Good. Now step on the stupid glass already."

John crouched against protesting joints to pick up the tissues, then pulled one from the rest to cough into. It was a nasty cough, one that made him feel as though he were expelling a lung, but instead it just made the cartilage of his chest pop. When more mucus was expunged, he sucked in the deepest breath he could before the lung-snot regrouped.

A Freakin' cold! At least he hoped it was a cold. He had been fine until four days ago when they had first set foot on this planet. On returning home, John had begun being plagued by the sniffles, and it had been escalating ever since. Beckett had chalked it all up to the onset of a cold, but John could swear it was turning into the flu – or worse, pneumonia. But, not being the doctor, he didn't have any say in the diagnosis, and even with his lungs feeling so packed, Carson still insisted that it was a cold, and had okayed him for duty since duty – at the moment – involved little more than being present to aid in the awakening of a few Ancient devices.

Anything more interesting, and he would have had me confined to the infirmary.

John glanced around the room. It was perfectly square, and rather large for containing a single circle of glass in the middle. There were no windows, and only one door hidden in the walls until opened.

It slid open now, and a short, rotund man dressed in a kind of white gown or robe strode in. The man had long, silver hair growing from the base of his scalp down to his back, while the rest of his scalp was clean and overly reflective.

He must polish that dome of his or something, John pondered with a smirk. His general dislike for the man almost had him saying it out loud. Ilian Moranga was the man's name. He was a world-hopper, going from planet to planet – studying Ancient devices, Wraith devices, history, and whatever else he could get his grubby little hands on. He was McKay's kind of people, but made McKay a constant pleasure to be with in personality comparison. Ilian had a slightly piggish face, sporting a permanently upturned nose and everything. It was the eyes that irked John the most. They practically oozed self-importance. The man was arrogant to a degree that stifled even McKay's know-it-allism. If McKay held any illusions that he was a deity of the world, then Ilian believed himself as a deity over the whole universe.

John's opinion of the man all stemmed – not from appearance or manner alone – but from the fact that Ilian never once, since meeting John, looked at him. Neither did he ever address him. All attention and talk went to McKay, or Beckett whenever he came along, or even Dr. Weir when Ilian had been brought to Atlantis for a tour. But as for John, Teyla, Ronon and every other solider in Atlantis, he just acted as though they didn't exist. John, it seemed, especially. At least Ronon and Teyla had received a casual glance.

Following behind Ilian was a young woman dressed in a white tunic and white pants with white boots. She had long red hair that stood out like a blaze of fire in the snow against her clothes, but she too held the same look of indifference, especially toward John. He had tried striking up a conversation with her, but would have had better luck getting a wall to talk.

Last to follow was one of Ilian's three 'body-gaurds'. Maybe they were assistants, but John had never seen scientists as big as the one coming in from behind the red-head. He was taller than Sheppard, and wearing the same white outfit as the woman. Thick muscles stretched the fabric of the tunic and it made John wonder what kept the material from ripping. The guy's chestnut hair was as long as his boss', but tied back in a ponytail with a bit of string.

John smiled at the two when they entered, even though they didn't look at him.

" Red Sonja, Conan the Barbarian, nice to see you again." That one didn't even make them blink, let alone turn his way. Their real names were Kelna and Jy, but John preferred his pet names for them. Much more fitting.

Teyla also stepped in, staring narrow-eyed at the back of the two assistants. When she turned her dark gaze to John, her visage brightened and she smiled.

" Hello John."

John smiled back. " Thanks, Teyla, for a moment I thought I went all invisible again." He then coughed, and cleared his throat.

" You sound no better," she said. " Did not that tea I brought you help?"

John cleared his sore throat. " It cleared my chest up for a while."

" Then I should brew more."

" Please, do. It was nice not having to wake up suffocating."

Sheppard turned his attention to Ilian and his two goons (though John had to admit, Kelna was one good-looking goon). Ilian was observing McKay with a lifted brow and slight smile. The moment the two scientists had met on another world sporting ruins and devices galore, friendship had occurred – friendship faster than John could blink. The little man was easy to read, and nothing he said or expressed suggested that he was a threat. It really was all about the science for him, and on being brought to Atlantis for a visit, he had reacted like a kid on Christmas morning. Plus, he was very willing to share his discoveries, as long as he got credit for them, and he was willing to share in making discoveries as well.

Ilian's eyes flicked briefly in John's direction, and the small smile vanished. " Why has he not stepped onto the glass?"

McKay's own eyes darted up at John. " Yeah, John? Why haven't you stepped on it yet?"

Because I don't want to, you little prick, he thought, his eyes boring holes into Ilian. John's hesitation felt more to him like petrification. There were three results when it came to making contact with something only his genes could activate: hit, miss, or excruciating pain. Normally, it was hit or miss, but pain had a bigger influence on him. It was only two weeks ago that McKay had had him touch something that had electrocuted him, nearly frying his innards. The thing had been malfunctioning, which was the reason behind John nearly snuffing it. He'd had worse, of course, but being electrocuted had been a reminder of how precarious his luck tended to be.

" John?" McKay prodded.

Sheppard snapped from his reverie and realized that his heart was pounding. " What?" he snapped.

" Step on the glass."

John sighed. " McKay, are you sure about this?"

McKay stood, stretching the kinks from his muscles. " Of course. The archives I translated said that this room was one of five used in 'healing purposes', and from what I gather it was kind of like an X-ray machine."

" As in radiation, McKay?"

" No, as in 'let's see your bones without risking you never having any children'. The Ancient's were advanced, Colonel, they wouldn't need to use radiation. And according to my readings, I think it's ready to go."

John narrowed his eyes. " You think?"

McKay, in response, rolled his own eyes. " Okay, it is ready to go. It's just an X-ray device, Sheppard. It's not going to burn your skin off."

John's heart thudded a little harder. " You don't know that."

" Yes I do. Not stop being such a baby and step on it."

John bristled. He thinks I'm afraid. Well, I am, but... Ah, crap, I am!

John was at a loss. He really had no desire to step onto a thin piece of glass and allow whatever affect this super X-ray device had on the body wreak possible havoc on him. But neither was he going to let McKay have the last laugh and think him a coward. Besides, the painful devices tended to be few and far between.

John took a deep breath, coughed, then another deep breath. He felt Teyla place a comforting hand on his shoulder, and looking at her saw the concern in her eyes, silently speaking You don't have to do this.

John shrugged helplessly, then stepped onto the glass. It immediately lit up with a soft, white glow, and that was it. John let out a held breath of relief.

" Happy?" he stated. McKay took the usual readings.

" Everything seems good. Well, John, time to open you up."

John cringed. " Please don't put it like that."

Everyone exited the room, with Teyla shooting John one last look of reassurance marred by concern. John almost wanted to beg her to stay – almost – and berated himself for it.

You've been shot, beaten, tortured, sucked on by alien bugs, stunned, mutated - and you can't handle a little X-ray machine? You're such a dork.

A low hum began to build up to a crescendo that resounded about the metal room, penetrating John's flesh to make his bones vibrate. His heart thudded faster, then lurched when the light beneath his feet exploded to fill the entire room. John gasped.

SGA

Teyla peered over McKay's shoulder at the wall that had now vanished to become a kind of window through which she could see John. He looked relatively fine, if a little pale, but he had been pale like that for days since the sickness hit him. McKay and Ilian were working the controls of the console, and as they did a great light – like sunlight yet tempered enough not to be blinding – filled the room until John vanished within it. Then the wall – or screen as McKay called it – went black, and Sheppard's form reappeared.

Teyla's jaw went slack in shock. This was not John they were seeing, and yet it was. They were seeing through him, to his bones and organs. Words written in ancient appeared on the left and right of the screen, as well as something similar to the device Beckett used to monitor heartbeats. Yet instead of a mechanical beep, the sound she heard she could barely describe except as a kind of pulsating rushing sound.

Such as what the heart and blood must sound like within the body, she thought in wonder.

From the rapid rush and pulsing red lines, John's heart was beating exceedingly fast. She watched in both wonder and horror how his lungs expanded and shrank quickly. Mckay did something that dimmed the organs and highlighted John's skeleton so that she was able to actually see his ribcage expand and contract. McKay adjusted the controls again, dimming the bones and brightening organs, then muscles. The muscles pulled and twitched, and Teyla saw a constant movement in John's throat – swallowing.

McKay did something where everything but the lungs dimmed, and half the lungs seemed to melt away, revealing what was inside. Teyla recoiled.

" Wow," McKay breathed. " Sheppard really is congested."

McKay switched between organs, bones, the flow of blood, muscles. When he went back to organs, Teyla realized that the motion of his lungs and ribs was even faster than before. She became focused on his heart, fascinated by its rapid writhing as it sent blood rushing through his body. McKay pressed something that switched perspectives – side, back, front, even from above.

John's head was tilted back and his jaw-bone was slack as though he were staring at something that amazed him.

Teyla wrinkled her brow. John was so rigid, his breathing and heartbeat so fast, and his muscles looked ready to snap.

" Dr. McKay, is something wrong with Colonel Sheppard?"

McKay switched through the various views of Sheppard's insides. He squinted his eyes, then widened them, his features slackening.

" I – I think... he's panicking."

SGA

John saw only white, pure blinding white that spilled in through his eyes to fill every molecule of his body with fire. He was paralyzed, but still standing. Or was he standing? He couldn't tell. He felt nothing but the agony of the fire ripping through him, consuming him, stopping the breath in his lungs.

I'm dying! Stop, please! It's killing me! But since he couldn't pull in air, he couldn't talk. He couldn't scream.

Then came the images, and the sensations that defined them. The giant bug sucking the life out of him, and the pain of it. The searing heat of a bullet tearing through his body, the numbness of a stunner, the shred of electricity through his frame, cracked bones, rent flesh, torn muscles, the pain of being punched, kicked, and thrown against walls or machines. Memories of pain and fear fired at him continuously like bullets from a P-90, shredding his brain, mutilating his body. He was spiraling in a white abyss, sucked up in a psychotic rewind of his life that preferred focusing only on the terrible, making him dance the same dance of cardiac arrest and resuscitation, snapped and healed bones, deprived and relieved lungs. He was falling, flying, everywhere and nowhere, nothing and no one.

What's happening! Why! Wwwwhhhhyyyyyyyyy...! Stooooppp, please! Tears streamed hot down his face.

The light vanished, the memories stopped, and Sheppard fell to the floor in his mad scramble to back away from the circle of glass. When his back hit the wall and his escape was obstructed, he brought his knees to his chest, wrapped one arm around them, and began rocking back and forth with his other hand gripping his hair. His muscles twitched and spasmed when the memories flashed into his addled brain and the pain of them tried another miserable assault against his body. But now the memories were only that – memories, and the pain was muted to almost nothing.

But there was a possibility the pain might return. He stared with wide-eyed terror at the dark void contained behind a thin sheet of glass. The pain was in there, and if the glass cracked, it would come again.

Wake up, John! The thing's turned off! It's dead! It was just a bunch of mental crap! Stupid memories!

Why did I feel it?

He was shaking so bad that he could hardly breath, and his heart pounded so fast that it hurt. Tears kept rolling down his face, some into his mouth where he tasted the salt.

Memories, memories, memories, just memories, just a machine... He felt no pain now, no indications of internal damage. His lungs were still hindered by phlegm, and he felt cold - that was it.

Stop shaking you wuss! It wasn't real!

He took several breaths as deep as his compacted lungs would allow. He could feel his heart start to descend out of its rib-cracking pound to a more gentle hammering, and his shaking subside into mild tremors.

That's it, John. Control, take control.

He heard the whispered rush of the door sliding open, and so quickly wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand.

" Colonel Sheppard!" Teyla's voice. He felt her place her hand on his shoulder, and the reality of physical contact finally grounded his consciousness.

John rested his forehead on his knees, breathing. " I'm fine. I'm good. I'm fine."

" Colonel, you're shivering."

" Sheppard, what happened?" Now it was McKay.

John cleared his aching throat. " I don't know. It... I... There was – pain, a lot of pain, then it just stopped."

" Are you all right?"

John lifted his head. " I'm getting there." He unfolded himself, then started his cautious rise to his feet on unsteady legs. Teyla helped him by holding his arm. When he was up, he waited until his legs found themselves, then he straightened his stiff back. He turned to McKay who stared at Sheppard with nothing but raw concern. That concern quickly shifted to remorse.

" John I am so, so sorry. I didn't think anything was wrong, I thought it just what the machine did to – I don't know – determine what needed to be fixed in the body. I... kind of... didn't think about the possibility that you were... um, terrified."

John looked at McKay through heavy-lidded eyes. He wanted nothing more than to smack the Canadian upside the head. Then the king of indifference himself, Ilian, walked in, going straight to the glass circle.

" Did he break it?" Ilian asked. McKay looked over at the pudgy scientist and blinked several times in alarm.

" Um, I don't know, I was kind of busy making sure the Colonel was still breathing."

John's anger abated a little at that. Whatever his frame of mind, at least Rodney had heart enough to be worried about the lab rat after an experiment rather than the equipment.

Ilian did a quick glance at Colonel Sheppard. " He is fine. But we must determine why the device sent his systems going beyond the norm. Has he told you what happened?"

" Yes," Teyla said darkly. " It caused him terrible pain."

Ilian looked at Teyla, then at McKay.

Pompous freakin' windbag!

" Um," McKay stuttered. " What – what she said."

" Elaborate," Ilian replied, still looking at the Canadian.

McKay looked from Ilian to John, for once in his life absolutely confused and, therefore, speechless. " Uh..."

" I saw images," John blurted irritably. " Memories, bad ones, painful ones, and I felt them. They just kept coming, and my body felt like it was on fire. I thought I was freaking dying!" John stepped forward toward Ilian with the most massively menacing air he could gather, when Teyla placed her hand on his chest to stop him.

Ilian looked away, nodding thoughtfully. " I see. I have found some devices that, when not working properly, will cause severe pain, even hallucinations. I believe the power source may be at fault, too much of it. Perhaps removing a few crystals..."

John stopped listening. He felt tired enough to fall asleep on his feet, his body led-weighted and ready to go down.

No nighty-night yet.

" I shall adjust, then we shall retest..." Those particular words of Ilian got John listening again. He glared with everything he had left at the fat little man who wouldn't look at him even if the fate of the universe depended on it.

" Screw this," Sheppard growled, and strode fast and furious from the room. Teyla followed him, keeping close as John trudged down the dimly lit corridor of sterile steel and not much else. The solid metal walls without blemish or alteration made his flesh crawl and his spine numb. When he turned the corner, the term 'lab rat' took on a whole new meaning for him, and he had a sudden urge to rip into the walls and make doors of his own, destroying the sensation of being in a maze.

He turned another corner, and shuddered.

" Colonel?" Teyla asked, but John refused to speak, just while he was negotiating the corridors.

Finally, and to his utter relief, he came to the transport that would take them top-side. Both he and Teyla stepped in, with Rodney suddenly joining them half out of breath the moment John was about to activate the device. It shot them up into a room similar to a cellar but far larger and with a wide set of stairs. The three trudged up those stairs to a kind of cellar door that slid open for them with humid air pouring in like a practical flood. Outside the day was warm, hot, sticky, and tinted green from the thick vegetation overhead. It was like the Amazon, complete with a thousand animal calls and monkey-like creatures with bat ears, rat heads, and skin stretched between arms and legs that allowed them to glide from one thick branch to the next. Sometimes, a flat, azure, reptile head would shoot out of the underbrush and grab a monkey-rat.

The thick air sliding into john's lungs had him nearly doubled-over with coughing.

Rodney immediately raised his hands in a placating manner. " Colonel, really, I'm am so, so, so sorry. I-I had no idea. The power readings seemed consistent, but I guess I hadn't taken into consideration just how much power was really needed. I assumed it to be the same amount as the last device we tested..."

When the coughing subsided, John shook his head. " Stow it, Rodney, I'm not pissed at you. Well, okay, maybe a little, but it won't last. It's that freakin' Moron guy..."

" Moranga."

John gave Rodney a withering look. " I know what I was saying. What's that fat SOB got against me, anyway? I'm the one turning on all his precious devices. You'd think the man would show a little more respect since I'm the key he needs to start the ignition."

Tayla looked at Rodney. " The man is exceedingly rude. He looks through me, and treats John as though he is not even there."

John, still glaring, locked onto Rodney's gaze and held it. " Lab-rat, McKay. Is it just me, or are those two words really starting to describe who I am? Not Lt. Colonel, not pilot, not Atlantis CO, but lab-rat."

Rodney couldn't respond, only swallow uneasily. The man seemed to deflate, ego-wise and everything, and for the first time ever John was actually beginning to see the underlying humility of Rodney McKay. Too bad he was too worn out to be surprised by it.

" Colonel... You're not. And I'm sorry if Moranga sees you that way, but I swear I don't. Yes, you have the gene and that kind of makes you a necessity... No, wait, that came out wrong - you'd still be a necessity even if you didn't have it."

John closed his eyes. " Rodney, if I didn't have the gene, I wouldn't even be here. I'd still be in Antarctica, probably coughing up crap there too." He had to lean against a tree and close his eyes when weariness started beating on him. He opened his eyes a crack to see Rodney's mouth gaping like a gasping fish.

Sighing, John pushed off the tree and led the way down the winding path leading to the gate situated by Ilian's place of residence. Ilian called it a 'camp', but John had yet to see any camp resemble a two-story house filled with technological tid-bits. Once at the gate that stood like a lawn ornament several yards from Ilian's house, John picked up a small, square pad dangling from the DHD and punched in the code that lowered Ilian's personal gate shield. The only reason Atlantis was acquainted with Ilian was because another team had stumbled upon him doing research on another planet.

When the shield blinked off, John dialed home as Teyla prepped their IDC. Up until now, McKay had remained unnaturally, abashedly quiet.

" What, you're leaving?" McKay asked.

" To go to the infirmary. Kind of inevitable considering what just happened, and I want to get it over with. You know, prepare for the side-effects?"

" But Ilian has an infirmary."

John smiled bitterly as he hit the last symbol and the gate rushed to life in an explosion of horizontal liquid. " I wouldn't dream of dirtying Ilian's clean facility with my filthy, rat hide. Come on, McKay, do you really think that man would give me the check-up I probably need? He'd have some goon listen to my heart, take my temperature, then give me a clean bill of health." John stepped toward the gate, then looked back at McKay. " You coming?"

Rodney sighed. " I suppose I don't have much choice in the matter. Weir's going to want an explanation, and I'm pretty much the only one that can give it to her."

John smirked. McKay was finally back to sounding like McKay. It had only been a matter of time.

The radio in John's ear crackled to life.

" Lt. Colonel Sheppard, we have received your IDC."

John's bitter smirk never left his face. " Let's rock." He turned, approaching the rippling liquid. " And no, McKay, I'm not mad at you."

SGA

John had his head tilted back as Carson moved the stethoscope about his chest, holding up the Colonel's shirt with his other hand. When he told John to take a breath, John inhaled, then exhaled by coughing. Beckett removed the scope and pursed his lips.

" Sounds unpleasant in there, Colonel. You're gettin' to be even more congested, and if that X-ray thing you talked of is to blame, I've a right mind to slap McKay upside the head m'self. Although I must admit the device sounds a might fascinatin'. An X-ray machine that lets you see all of the insides – and in motion to boot."

John adjusted his shirt back around himself. " I'd be inclined to agree, except the thing tried to kill me. So, sorry doc, can't share the sentiment."

Carson shrugged. " Aye, thought as much. Convenience sometimes tends to come with a price – sometimes." Then Carson eyed John suspiciously. " You know, this is the first time you've come into the infirmary conscious and without a nasty fuss." Then his eyes rounded over. " Bloody-hell, I think this is the first time you've ever come in voluntarily! Wish I had the means to capture this moment."

John chuckled dryly, which turned into a cough. " Ha-ha," he gasped out. " No offense, but bite me, doc."

Carson snickered. " You had that comin', John. But you're right, I'll drop it. I should be savorin' this moment. It may never come again. Now for your favorite part of the visit."

John cringed, but held out his arm all the same. Smiling, Beckett picked up the needle and inserted it into the crook of John's arm. The moment the needle pierced flesh, pain that wasn't the norm when it came to being stuck shot up John's arm to go radiating through his chest. He went rigid as a stone, and hissed in a breath through his clenched teeth.

Carson looked at John oddly, then carefully removed the needle with its capsule full of blood. He placed a piece of cotton gauze over the tiny hole.

" Did that hurt you John?"

John nodded his head jerkily. " Yeah. It kind of did, and I'm not talking a pinch." Both men exchanged increasingly worried looks.

" Infirmary stay?" John asked a little pathetically.

Carson nodded sadly. " Aye, lad. Sorry. But just for the night should all go well. We've played this tune enough to know how it goes. Besides, I wouldn't be too worried. Usually those bloody devices are affectin' you by now. Bein' sick might be makin' your nerves a wee bit tender, or you're just feeling phantom pains. We'll play it safe, but I wouldn't worry your head about it."

Carson then patted John on the shoulder, and took the blood to where it was going to be tested.

John felt oddly subdued, defeated, and he didn't like the sensation all that much. It was because he no longer had the energy to placate his stubborn side. He pushed himself farther back on the bed, then swung his legs up and stretched himself out with his head hitting the pillow, inciting a throbbing scream from his skull.

" Damn, sorry! Stupid head." He rolled his eyes on saying that, then closed them. Like hell I'm wearing scrubs or a gown. But like he would have a choice. At that moment, the lack of movement, and the softness of the bed supporting his bones, felt way too good to disrupt. Yet the aches were being exceptionally vicious. All he needed was a pain-pill, and this would be paradise.

John shivered. Just nothing administered through a needle. Getting stuck had hurt like hell. It had never hurt like hell before. It made his heart plummet while thinking on it.

He didn't want to feel pain again. He really, truly, with everything he had, did not want to feel anymore pain. He rolled onto his side and curled into a ball, angered by this sudden sensation of unease, but in no ways about to uncurl himself. Being stretched on the bed had made him feel too... exposed, open.

Freakin' vulnerable? Ah hell! But his brain refused to drop the feeling. Sighing, coughing, then finishing the sigh, Sheppard tried to move his thoughts to places that would help him drift off.

' Rooll the 'ole chariot along, I say rooll the 'ole chariot along, I say rooll the 'ole chariot along and we'll on get on behi-ind... What the flying freak of nature...! Who's thoughts are these?'

John snapped his eyes open. The song – which he had never heard before in his life – had popped unbidden into his head. Strangely, the voice hadn't sounded like his own.

SGA

A/N: No! This is not another 'weird device screwing Sheppard up' story. You'll discover this some time in the next chapter. And for those of you who found the above lyrics familiar... my sympathies. It's something I heard at a Renaissance fair and that's all I remember of it. I believe it's a drinking song, about grog. Words may not be precise. Stay tuned. And yes, Ronon will make brief appearances.