A/N: All the talk of dolphins in my last story made me think 'hey, Atlantis could use a dolphin.' That, and swimming is fun. Again, all book, song, TV, and movie quotes of any kind are not mine.

I forgot to warn you, the chapters are going to be pretty long.

Part Two

Atlantis' Only Dolphin

'The time has come' the Walrus said, ' to talk of many things. Of ships and sails and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings. And why the sea is boiling hot...' which it's not. Ha! It's not, not at all. Good temperature, really. Hey! Johnny-boy!'

John's eyes snapped open to artificial dusk. It was never totally dark in the infirmary. Half the time it wasn't even close to being dark, but seeing as how little concerning the unfortunate was going on, the infirmary didn't exactly need to be lit up like the morning.

John stiffly uncurled himself from his constant fetal position and allow his blood more freedom to flow. A tendril of cool air crept through the loose collar of the T-shirt Carson had been kind enough to grab from John's room. His skin prickled and he shivered, then rolled onto his left side with a grunt and a grimace. Beckett had once told him that when it came to sleeping on one's side, it was best to sleep on the right, since sleeping on the left wasn't good for the heart.

But sleeping on nothing but his right side had created a dull ache all along his bones, and a small annoying cramp in several ribs. Yet the moment he put the smallest amount of pressure on his left side, an ache and cramp started up there as well. So he rolled onto his back, and discovered that he had a back-ache.

The one time he didn't have an I.V. stuck shooting painkillers into his vein was the one time he wished he did. Or at least an Aspirin within reach. But it wasn't as though he were an invalid. He had the means of grabbing a pill himself, or at least running into a nurse who knew where the pills were stashed.

John started to rise only to drop back onto the bed when his backbone cramped. It wasn't anything crippling or excruciating, but he was still too tired to want to deal with it, so decided to just wait until a nurse dropped by. He took a breath to sigh, and coughed until the cramp in his flanks became more like a tearing in the muscles. It stopped when he exhaled, pushing every last inch of air from his lungs until his ribcage constricted to the point that it felt ready to implode. He then took a slow, tentative breath, and when the cramp didn't manifest, filled his lungs the rest of the way.

Rib-cramps sucked

'That's it, Johnny. Nice and slow...'

John froze. The thought had neither been his voice, nor his thought. It had just popped in there, just like the one that had woken him up. He listened into the silence, into his mind, for the voice, but it didn't come back. Then his heart plummeted, and his eyes went wide.

Oh my gosh! That stupid X-ray's making me schizoid!

'Oh, come now, John. Don't be so pessimistic.'

Who are you!

'Dang! Watch the shouting! Sheesh, John chill. Relax. I'm no one you need to worry about. Just relax and I'll get out of your head. I just wanted to know who was doing all that thinking. You're thinking too loud, pal. Tone it down.'

John, his heart pounding loud enough for the whole base to hear, hardly breathed as he listened. The voice had sounded in his head, but since it hadn't been his voice – neither male nor female – his mind wanted to believe that the voice was coming from outside himself. He let out a shaky sigh and closed his eyes.

Schizoid.

SGA

Dr. Weir strode quickly into the infirmary, but found all the beds to be unoccupied. Scrunching her brow, she scanned the mini-hospital for Carson, and found him hunched over a table, shaking his head. Weir moved toward him.

" Dr. Beckett? Where's the Lt. Colonel?"

Carson remained hunched over the table, shifting through various charts and notes. " I released him to his quarters." He then straightened and turned to face her, though not looking exactly at her. His gaze was distant, distracted, and the worry creasing his brow made Weir go suddenly tense.

" He's relatively fine," Carson said as though speaking to himself. " Or, at least I thought he was."

Now Weir was rigid. " Why, what is it?"

" I'm not sure. Well, I do know it's not the device he stepped into, I can say that much. It's more his – cold. Or what I thought to be his cold. I took a blood sample from him yesterday and just finished my analysis. I won't bore you with the details, since I don't understand most of them m'self... but it appears as though the wee bug he's caught isn't quite so – little anymore. It's growin'."

" What do you mean 'growing'? Multiplying?"

Carson shook his head no. " Growin', changin'. It's... not the same. When I first took the Colonel's blood to make sure his illness was nothin' alien, only earth-based – it had resembled what a normal cold virus would resemble. Now it doesn't, not even close, and it looks as though it's been changin' for some time."

" And how do you know the machine wasn't involved?"

At this, the worry in Carson's features shifted ever so slightly to become guilt, and he momentarily looked away. " Because the symptoms of his illness was gettin' worse. Since viruses tend to get worse before they get better, I thought nothin' of it. I told him that if his headache increased and vomiting followed that he was to return to Atlantis, since it meant he was getttin' the flu. The illness, at the moment, is at the same level it was before he went off world – the amount of coughing and such. The machine had nothin' to do with it. But the Ancient machine aside, this virus has me concerned. Since it's not a cold, and nothin' like I've seen about, then that means it's alien."

Weir's jaw twitched and she smiled caustically. " And nothing spells trouble like an alien virus." She lowered her gaze and began messaging her forehead with a sharp sigh. " Why do these things always happen to John?"

Beckett shrugged helplessly. " You're askin' the wrong man. I just clean up the mess. I'm still doin' research, but it may be safe to say that the virus isn't contagious. I've been around Sheppard the most since he became ill, so tested my own blood, which came out clean. On the other hand, seein' as how this is somethin' we've never dealt with before, I'm startin' to consider quarantinin' him, just until I can learn a wee bit more."

Weir winced. " He's not going to like that. So why did you release him?"

Beckett fidgeted in rising discomfort, like a kid about to spill the beans on whatever bad thing he had done. " It's rather tricky to explain. The Colonel was acting agitated, jumpy, every time someone walked by. I'd done a quick study of the blood before my deeper scrutiny, and say for the change in the virus saw nothing else of concern, and thought that he might be able to rest better in his quarters. He looked exhausted enough to sleep for days, so I doubt he'd go anywhere else. I didn't really want to let him go, but he needs to rest, and all the activity wasn't helping matters."

Weir touched the radio at her ear. " Lt. Colonel Sheppard?" But got no reply.

" Might be sleepin'," Carson suggested.

She touched the radio again. " Teyla."

" Yes, Dr. Weir?"

" I was wondering if you could do me a small favor. Could you go to Colonel Sheppard's quarters and make sure he's there – asleep."

" He is not."

Weir's heart lurched. " What?"

" I saw him, not long ago. I thought he was going to the mess hall, but he is not there now."

" Oh – okay, thank you Teyla."

Dr. Weir looked at Dr. Beckett, both mirroring the same round-eyed expression. Then Carson's shoulders sagged.

" Why doesn't the lad ever listen to me? Just once?"

SGA

John was limping. Only three minutes ago he'd been walking just fine, then aches started taking on an uncanny resemblance to pain. It started in his foot, and slowly crawled up his leg to his hip, forcing him to hobble. Now his back was beginning to protest.

So just when was it I went from thirty-ish to seventy-ish?

He'd already taken an Aspirin, and laying down had been just as bad as standing. That, and he was consumed by the need to keep going. His quarters felt too small, too much like that X-ray room. But being out in the halls, around others, was even worse. When people walked by – whether he recognized them or not – he moved away from them. He did so to Teyla, Zelenka, and Ronon. The kicker had been McKay. On seeing him and some other scientist round the corner, John's heart started pounding and his chest tightened. Terror had cast a veil over his mind that obscured all reason, and the only thought to enter his brain was a scream for him to run. So he did – not really running but walking fast until he came to a room where he could hide. Only when he heard McKay's non-stop voice fading away did he emerge.

John tried to fathom the reason for the terror but was too distracted by the presence of the rest of the Atlantis members to be able to think properly. His heart had yet to stop pounding.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Now aches were pains, and reason was abandoning him. He felt trapped, and though no one had yet to look his way for more than two seconds, felt a thousand eyes watching him as though he were the freak of the month. All in all, he needed a place to sit, and solitude to think.

Balcony? No, people always pop up there. He did know one other place, though. He had discovered it during a run, and thanks to an odd noise had checked it out. On discovering what the noise was, he had made an effort to stop by when he could – and always brought a power bar with him.

He hobbled there now, wincing with each step but moving fast all the same, as though spiting his own body.

Stupid body!

He took a transport to the lowest level of Atlantis that was still above water, entering a corridor bereft of any human presence say for himself. When he reached the end, a door slid open, and Sheppard was hit by a warm ocean breeze smelling strongly of brine. He paused, breathing in the salty oxygen, imagining it coursing through his bloodstream. Sunlight warmed his face and chest.

" Ooohhhh yeah, that's what I'm talking about." He stepped onto the wide platform that was like a metal jetty, though way bigger than any jetty on earth, big enough for three puddle jumpers to land on. Of course whether or not the platform was used for that he couldn't say. The Ancients might have enjoyed a bit of sailing for all he knew, and at one time technologically advanced sail-boats had been magnetically tethered to this Jetty.

The platform was cool under his bare feet. Boots had been out of the question after the complaint his back made on having to bend so much. He moved to the end of the platform and scanned the sapphire water that shimmered with sunlight dancing off its surface. He then pulled the bar from his pocket, tore it open, and began breaking off chunks to toss into the water.

He heard a splash, followed by a bark of a squeak. A small, sleek, furry amber body leaped out of the water with another squeak. John tossed a chunk of power bar into the air, and the body leaped again, snatching the food. John chuckled. A head poked from the water, barking little yips.

The creature was, basically, like an otter. The face, however, was slightly longer, similar to a sea-lion's, as were the whiskers. Width-wise it was small as an otter, but length was also more along the lines of a sea-lion. John had seen the little critters before, leaping out of the water as he skimmed the surface with a puddle jumper, and again when John had heard their barking and discovered the platform. On stepping out, they'd fled, and John had assumed them to be exceedingly shy. He'd also thought they were legless, like snakes.

Then, when he'd come out a second time with a bowl of popcorn to watch the water and daydream about surfing, one of the little otter-snakes had emerged to snatch the bits of popcorn John hadn't caught in his mouth. Since then, he always made it a habit to come out to the jetty with some kind of food and coax the creature to return. And it did. He also discovered that the things did have legs, forelegs only that were short with webbed feet, like the feet of penguins.

Seal – otter – penguin, all rolled into one, with flukes at the end of the long tail. Sometimes, John was able to attract a whole pod of the things, but for the most part only one ever showed up for reasons known only to that one. John had named it Little Jim, since Steve and Bob had already been taken. Plus he had had a buddy with a dog named Big Jim.

John tossed more pieces of the bar into the air, and Little Jim leaped to catch. But the small act was making his shoulder hurt like the rest of his body. His hip wasn't too happy about being used either. Carefully, he lowered himself into sitting position, grunting and gritting his teeth, it hurt so much. When he was finally down, he let out a gasp and wiped tears from his eyes. Then, with a start, he realized that he was never going to get back up again.

He tossed another crumb furiously. " Son of a... ! Stupid, freakin' body!"

Sitting was no picnic either, and did nothing to relieve his back. He slouched, letting his spine curve, then sat straight, then slouched again. Nothing. He tossed another crumb, then the whole bar which Little Jim caught in mid-air, doing a flip John couldn't appreciate because of the pain.

To top it all off, he'd forgotten his radio. No calling for help for him.

He could see Jim sliding boneless as a ribbon just beneath the surface. It twisted, arched, circled, and did a kind of pretzel maneuver as it waited for more food. John envied it. No pain in Jimmy's joints. It was almost hypnotic watching the creature move, relaxing John enough to alleviate a small twinge of pain here and there. With a grimace, he moved his legs to hang over the edge of the Jetty, and slowly dipped his feet in the water. The water was cool, pleasantly cool, and felt good on his sore soles.

' Why not go for a swim, John?'

John was in too much discomfort to go rigid, but his heart started another round of jack-hammering.

' A little dip'll do you good.'

John shivered. Who... are you?

' No one with a pronounceable name. Come on, John. You're hurting, you need relief, and the water's perfect. You know you want to. Just a small swim, staying near the platform/jetty thing. Jim won't hurt you. He only likes to eat things that smell and look like fish, which you don't.'

John stared into the water that shimmered like the event horizon of the gate. The discomfort wouldn't let him think, except about how much he wanted the discomfort to end. His feet felt a lot better, so who's to say his body wouldn't feel better as well? It was worth a try. And he was desperate enough to try anything.

With his hands firmly planted on the edge of the platform, and without stripping off his clothes, he slid into the water until it came to his neck, then turned, gripping the Jetty's rim.

The relief was fast coming. Pain became aches, and the aches shrank to become nothing more than a distant thought at the back of his mind. His bones were free from use, from gravity, so the pain had no reason to exist.

' See? Told you.'

John didn't even mind that a strange voice was in his head. He pushed gently away from the jetty, floating on his back as the water supported him, arms splayed to either side of himself. He slowly moved his arms to propel himself backward, away from the platform. Even moving wasn't so bad anymore. He turned, and plunged his head under the water with his eyes open. He saw Jim doing more pretzel moves while regarding John with black opal eyes and flowing whiskers. Light danced on its golden back that shined with every sinewy move. The otter-seal was far cooler underwater.

John turned and propelled forward with both his arms and his legs. He stayed beneath the water until his lungs begged for air, so poked his head above the surface, gasped, then went back under. He went deep until the pressure made his ears hurt and his lungs required a refill. Little Jim kept his distance but followed John as he swam further from the platform. Had John gills, he would have never surfaced again.

Though he had moved away from the platform, John followed along the submerged base of Atlantis, grabbing on to whatever jutted out when his limbs grew tired. Sometimes he would submerge, and remain submerged without moving, floating like a piece of driftwood and reveling in the absence of feeling anything until his need for air butted in. Then he would resurface and move lazily along, stopping with one hand on Atlantis and the other stretched out to the side feeling the unseen currents.

Mentally, he felt slightly detached as though tired, a sentiment not exactly shared with his body. It wasn't exactly lightheaded-ness but more as though his brain were trying to wander incoherently, as though he were bored out of his skull. Memories and images flashed in and out of his awareness, causing him to pause every so often in his swim to try and snatch them and see what they were about. But he might as well have been trying to snatch air the way they flitted away from him. In fact, many memories began to meld together. Wraiths attacked while he was being sucked dry by a giant tick. The energy shadow was hovering at the gate, and the Genii were coming through.

No, wait, that can't be right. John, holding onto some kind of pipe, twitched his head to try and clear it. He submerged himself again, closing his eyes and sinking into the tranquility of floating. The images slowed, then stopped. He stayed under even when his lungs were practically screaming, then surfaced, gasping deep until his ribs felt ready to split apart. He released the breath with a sharp exhale and studied his surroundings.

He was distanced enough from the jetty for it to be small and difficult to see over the water. Atlantis surrounded him in a forest of towers and high walls that the water lapped against. He looked up as he tread water, and craned his neck back.

' Rooll the 'ole chariot along...!'

John snapped his gaze from the sky and the towers, and instinctively searched around for the source of the singing. He heard a squeaking bark, and saw Little Jim's head poking out of the water, staring at him. Then John turned.

Fifteen feet away, a sleek gray body leaped out of the water, back-flipped, and plunged back in. John's heart seemed to stop, as did his body. In his shock, he slipped under and clawed out with one hand until he grabbed a narrow metal outcrop, pulling himself back up.

He shook the water from his hair and eyes, then searched the water's surface.

Jim's head was still poking out, bobbing on the waves, but that was it. John wiped the water from his face and looked questioningly at Jim.

" Did you see that?"

Jim squeaked, then dunked his head under. John rolled his eyes.

" Great, just go ahead and ditch me then."

'Don't feel bad, Johnny, it'll be back.'

John's heart began trying to knock itself senseless against his chest. His breaths came quick, and his head snapped around as his eyes sought the owner of the disembodied voice.

" Who are you!" he shouted.

A gray, bottle-nosed head poked out of the water, squeaking.

' Howdy John!'

John yelped, and started backstroking away frantically, only to stop when his foggy mind finally registered what it was he was seeing.

A bottle nose dolphin. Tursiops Truncatus. Flipper.

" What the hell!" John choked in a voice a few too many octaves high. He wiped more water from his face, regarding the dolphin as it regarded him.

His breath started coming faster, and he shrank away from the dolphin. " Oh no, no, no, no, hell no, I'm losing it. Unless – unless, someone brought it here.. F-For research, or something. Right?"

'Guess again, Johnny. Or don't, because you'll never get it in a million years.'

John flinched, cringed, and began trembling. I'm losing it, I'm losing it, I'm losing it... Tears brimmed on the edges of his eye-lids.

The dolphin moved closer, cautiously, and John shrank back.

' Hey, it's okay, John, you're not losing it. And neither are you hallucinating. You wanted to know who I am, and here I am. Well, kind of here I am. This isn't my true form, just a fitting one for this locale. Really, I have no true form. I'm what you'd call an honest to goodness free spirit, in that I can become whatever I want. Turn around and see.'

John hesitated at first, until he heard a kind of croaking bark behind him that sounded nothing like Jim. He whirled around in a splash of water to find an actual sea-lion. He glanced over his shoulder at the dolphin but the dolphin wasn't there. When he returned his gaze to the sea-lion, he was looking at a dolphin again.

' See?'

John's trembling increased. The dolphin squealed.

' John, chill. I'm not going to hurt you, or do anything to you for that matter. You're wandering a little too far from the platform, John, and that ain't safe.'

John narrowed his eyes suspiciously. " What are you, my guardian angel? What do you want?"

' From you? Nothing. Actually you wouldn't even be seeing me if your mind hadn't gone haywire and opened up to every creature in the universe that can read minds. Lucky for you the range doesn't go beyond the planet, and thus far I'm the only super-telepath in sight, unless there's some wraith slinking around you don't know about. Now come on, John, go back to the platform, the others are looking for you, and your mind keeps doing the mental twist, which is kind of hard to ignore. Kind of like being shouted at.'

John, his breath coming in shudders, closed his eyes, trying to will the dolphin away.

' Not that easy John. You've got a problem, and I'm the only one here who knows what it is.'

John opened his eyes, but the dolphin was still there.

Ah, screw it!

' Good to see you're at least, remotely, starting to come around. Starting. Good enough start though.

" What's wrong with me?"

' You're sick, John. And yes, the words 'duh' do mean something to me. You need to go back to the platform and wait for someone to find you. When I meant to go for a small swim, I really meant 'small.'

John shook his head. " No, I can't..."

' Why?'

John opened his mouth to reply, but didn't have any words to say.

Why indeed? He couldn't quite explain it. Something about going back felt wrong, dangerous. If he went back, allowed himself to be found, then there would be... pain, terrible pain. There were people, in Atlantis, who would hurt him, because they had hurt him once before. Who were those people? He knew but...

Rodney? No, that can't be right, he... And Beckett? And Weir? Their faces flashed into his mind, and with them came remembered pain.

John shook his head in disbelief. " No. That can't be right."

The dolphin clacked its jaws. ' It isn't right, John. Your memories are fractured. Your mind can't stop sifting through them, pulling up the bad. It's just association, John. Your friends would never hurt you.'

John believed the dolphin, or at least he wanted to. The images, memories, were telling him a different story. Quick as they were, meshed as they seemed, they were too real to just brush aside, and they wouldn't stop coming.

Fear swelled in his chest like a flood of ice. The dolphin rose out of the water, dancing on its tail in agitation.

' John! Don't! Don't give into that. Hey, look at me! Look at the cute little dolphin doing a cute little trick! Watch John, watch the trick!'

The dolphin went under, then leaped, spun twice, and plunged back into the water. It leaped again, twisting, and dropping back in. John watched, and the chaos in his mind quieted enough to allow a small sense of awe to slip through, shushing the fear trying to take over.

The dolphin's gray head resurfaced. ' A little better. Not much but... John, you really need to get back. You need help. I suggested you go for a swim to help ease the aches, but this is getting bad. You can't stay in here forever.'

The thought of going back gave a little extra boost to fear. Memories, disjointed, wild, and frightening, kept tumbling about his mind.

" I – I need to think. Clear my head," he murmured distractedly. He started into another swim, and heard the dolphin follow.

' Hey -Hey John? Johnny? John-buddy? You really need to get back. Swim times over and if you start to get tired, I can't help you. Not exactly corporeal here, please don't ask me to go into the ramifications of it, but physical contact is way out of my league for the most part. John? Jo-ohn...

SGA

" These life-sign detectors are useless," McKay grumbled. " They pick up life-signs, not DNA tags. That's what we need, a specified DNA sniffer. An ATA tracker, or just inject a tracking device under John's skin. Where the hell is he!"

He saw Zelenka out of the corner of his eye, rolling his eyes. They were trekking down a corridor bordering near an unexplored section of the city. Rodney's gaze, for the most part, was glued to the life-signs detector, and he was relying on Zelenka to keep an eye on their surroundings.

It had been a half hour since Weir had issued a city-wide search for the Lt. Colonel. Rodney had found the whole situation almost laughable, for a moment. It had felt more along the lines of searching for a petulant child who was hiding so he didn't have to stay couped up in bed because of a little head-cold.

Then Beckett had explained the situation. John wasn't simply 'under the weather'. He was sick, and the fact that they had yet to find him was getting on McKay's nerves.

" I'm sorry but it seems to me that putting the safety of Atlantis in the hands of a ding-bat who goes exploring when he has a supposedly life-threatening illness is poor planning in my book," Rodney grouched.

Zelenka's head jerked back in alarm. " McKay! You are talking about a man who has saved our hides on too many occasions to count. Besides, I don't suppose you heard of a little thing known as delirium? If Sheppard is sick, it might be affecting his mind. He may not have known what he was doing, or where he was going, and so is lost. And this city is vast. I know it is not in your nature, but could you at least express the small amount of the worry I know you must be feeling or you would not be griping more than usual?"

Rodney stopped, and turned his withering stare onto Zelenka. " I am not griping more than usual. I'm griping as much as I usually do."

Zelenka met his gaze. " Fine. But could you at least wait to gripe in private. It is getting on my nerves, and it is also unfair to the Lt. Colonel since he is not here to defend himself."

Rodney turned his attention back to the detector. " Fine, whatever, let's just keep moving."

Rodney wasn't going to admit that Zelenka had a point. Rodney was worried, exceedingly worried since he still felt guilty about what happened to Sheppard in that X-ray device. Though Beckett had assured that the machine was not responsible for the change in the virus afflicting John, he couldn't help feel a small twinge of responsibility. After all, he'd been dragging John from one device to the next when he should have been getting some bed-rest.

Two more blips appeared on the detector other than their own. Rodney slowed, shooting his hand out to grab Zelenka's arm and stop him as well.

" Someone's coming," he announced. " Two – someone's, before you ask."

Sure enough, Teyla and Ronon rounded the corner, heading toward the two scientists.

" Have you found anything?" Teyla asked immediately.

" Does it look like it?" McKay huffed. " You know, I don't know how we're supposed to find him. He could be anywhere. He could be so delirious that he could have taken a jumper and be anywhere on the entire planet, for all we know." He pointed a finger at Teyla and Ronon. " You know what, the minute we find him and bring him back, I'm going to petition we have him tied down. A man with a Kharma as bad as Sheppard's shouldn't be allowed to wander loose anywhere!"

Ronon lifted his brow. " Kharma?"

McKay shook his head. " Never mind. Look, since we ran into eachother, we might as well keep looking together. Though I have no idea where to begin looking in this sector."

' Keep moving north, ding-bat."

Rodney started at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, and glanced around.

" What?" Teyla asked in alarm, also searching, to which Ronon and Zelenka soon followed suit.

" Who said that?"

" Who said what?" Ronon asked.

" Someone called me a ding-bat. Was it you, Zelenka?"

The timid physicist raised both his hands innocently. " No, of course not."

Rodney already assumed it was neither Teyla or Ronon since both appeared thoroughly confused.

" Okay, um, never mind. Let's keep moving north."

' Good boy.'

" Who said that!"

SGA

McKay was getting angry. Someone was talking, but no one would confess to it. Still, directions were directions, so he followed them, hoping beyond hope that Atlantis wasn't haunted after all – and that the ghost didn't have a nasty sense of humor.

They came to a door that slid open on their approach, assaulting them with salty air and sunshine. They stepped out onto a metal walkway with a set of stairs leading down to a metal platform. Ancient writing next to the door translated into something along the lines of 'observation deck', recalling to McKay something in the archives about places where one could go to observe the water up close and also to board submersibles which had yet to be found on Atlantis.

" What is that?" Teyla asked, leaning over the rail of the walkway and pointing down. Rodney leaned in as well, and saw something clinging to the platform. Rodney recognized the dark head and slender form right off.

" Sheppard!" He gasped, eyes going wide, and clattered down the stairs onto the platform. Sheppard's form was motionless, until Rodney neared. John's head lifted, and his eyes snapped wide open in an expression of what Rodney swore was terror. John pushed away from the platform and swam backward as fast as the water would allow, then stopped way too far out for arms reach.

Rodney skidded to a halt right at the edge of the jetty, and the rest caught up beside him to stare quizzically at the Lt. Colonel.

Though John was too far out to reach without going in, he wasn't too far for McKay not to see his various facial expressions all rolled into one; mistrust, wariness, and unease. Rodney gaped.

" Uh, um, John? What are you doing?"

John didn't answer. His eyes darted from McKay, to Teyla, Zelenka, Ronon, then back to McKay, focusing only on him. Rodney shuddered. John's gaze was dark and as penetrating as a knife to the gut. In fact, it was familiar; similar to the looks he gave to those he had no trust in what so ever, and verging on the look he reserved only for the enemy.

It hit Rodney over and over again like a slap – no, more like a punch – and brought to surface his own growing unease.

" John?" Teyla said. " Why are you out in the water? You are ill, you need to come back so that you may rest."

John didn't move except to continue treading water. Then John turned his head. " I'm not going over there. he's standing right there!"

Teyla blinked in confusion. " Who is, John?"

" Yeah," McKay piped in. " And who are you talking to?"

John turned his blood-curdling stare back to McKay. " I'm talking to the dolphin. Now, Back off McKay!"

McKay's jaw drop. " Oh my gosh. He is delirious. Hey, Sheppard! Get your skinny butt out of the water before you get even more sick!"

To Rodney's astonishment, John started moving toward the platform, little by little, playing at being cautious. Rodney let out a breath of relief and crouched, reaching out his hand to offer it to John. Then John stopped, mere inches out of reach, half his face submerged. Rodney wrinkled his brow.

" John?"

Suddenly, John lifted his head, and spat a spray of salty water in Rodney's face. Then he submerged.

Rodney jerked back and tumbled onto his butt, spitting and wiping water and saliva off his face with his sleeve.

" Ah, crap, what the...! Why'd he do that! The guy's a blasted wacko!"

Ronon jumped into the water then, also going under, and for a moment everything went quiet. Both Zelenka and Teyla helped Rodney back to his feet. He looked from one to the other, shocked, confused, and a little hurt.

" Wh-What was that for?"

Zelenka looked at Teyla, and Teyla looked at Zelenka, who shrugged.

Suddenly, the water exploded, or seemed to. Both Ronon and John broke the surface, Ronon with his arm wrapped around the Colonel's chest, and John struggling psychotically to break free.

" Let me go!" He screamed, elbowing Ronon in the face hard enough to cause blood to spray out his nose, and twisting and writhing until he began to slip from Ronon's hold. The look on John's face made the blood drop to McKay's feet. It wasn't a look of fury, such as what he usually wore when in the middle of a battle. What McKay was seeing now was pure panic, terror, and also pain. When Ronon tightened his hold on the Colonel, John threw his head back, and a scream tore from his throat that made Rodney go cold all over.

" Ronon!" Teyla called, her face almost stark white. " Release him! You are hurting him!"

Ronon slackened his hold, and the moment he did, John slipped out. The runner grabbed the Lt. Colonel's shirt by the shoulder, and John immediately whipped around and slugged the man hard across the face. John was a strong guy, but Ronon was a whole lot stronger, so it came as a shock when the bigger man actually flew back from John's punch rather than his head just snap around. Freed, John submerged and vanished.

Teyla, Zelenka, and Rodney crouched down to haul a bloodied and battered Ronon onto the platform. He lay there for a moment on his back, panting heavily as blood trickled from his mouth and nose down his face. He was also clutching his side with one hand.

" What happened?" Teyla asked as she looked the runner over. Ronon propped himself up with a grimace onto his elbows, and stared out at the choppy water in utter confusion. Rodney gulped.

" Well, no offense," he said to Ronon, " but it seems like Sheppard sufficiently kicked your ass."

" He fought like an animal," Ronon breathed. " I could feel his heart. It was beating hard, fast, too fast. He was frightened."

" He looked to be in terrible pain," Teyla told him.

Ronon looked down, closing his eyes. " I may have caused an injury."

Rodney snorted. " Well what do you call what he did to you?"

Ronon shook his head. " When I began pulling him in, during his struggle, I felt a rib break."

All eyes went out to the water, searching the surface.

" There!" Zelenka cried, pointing right. Rodney stood to see several long meters away a dark head break the surface, only to go under again, then re-emerge a few seconds later. Mckay's mind reeled dizzily in confusion.

" I think maybe we need to use a jumper... and see if Beckett has any tranquilizer darts."

SGA

A/N: Tsk, Tsk – seems Ronon got a little too rough. Sorry if I don't seem to have his character down right. As I said, I only know season one, and what I know of season two I know from the SGA website – and everyone else's stories. I was going to have this tale take place in season one, but for it to have worked I needed every negative experience that could be mustered from every episode.

Oh, and confused yet? More will be revealed about our shape-shifting dolphin soon enough, along with John's condition. John has quite a way with the critters, doesn't he?