A/N: Thanks be to ye for the loverly reviews. John's mental state will now take a mighty plunge. And remember! Said books, shows and songs – not mine!

I pledge allegiance to Queen Fragg, and her mighty state of hysteria... - Calvin, from Calvin and Hobbes.

Part three

Cheshire John, aka CJ

' Jo-ohn... Johnny... Lt. Colonel Sheppard... Atteee-ntion! Damn it.'

John had to hand it to the dolphin, it was persistent. But since it had admitted to being unable to make physical contact, his fear of the thing had dissipated greatly. He probably would have been annoyed – should have been – but he was being distracted by too much else to feel anything toward the chatty creature.

As long as it didn't hurt him, it didn't matter.

' Gee, thanks a lot John. Glad to see I make quite the impression.'

John, clinging for dear life to a piece of metal something sticking out of Atlantis, closed his eyes, shivering. He wasn't cold, just shaken and hurting. The pain was located point blank in his left side, never a good area to have any kind of pain, and it hurt just to breathe. He was forced to take shallow, cautious breaths or the pain would erupt into an agony that snatched the very air from him. He clenched his jaw, and with each stab of pain let out strangled cries and gasps, clenching the metal until it bit into his palm.

' Crap, John, this is really bad. Here, let me see what I can do.'

John heard the dolphin squeak and click.

' Dang, this is tough! Mentally, you're all over the place. Your pain and fear receptors are firing like a freakin' machine gun. No wonder you freaked when the big guy grabbed you.'

John opened his eyes. Ronon. Was Ronon the enemy?

No, that can't be... but Rodney isn't supposed to be either... Right?

' Yeah, John, that's right. Don't listen to anything else, just that one thought.'

John tried, repeating it over and over again like a chant. But he was seeing things, recalling things, that were telling him otherwise.

Just step on the stupid glass... pain, terrible pain... sit in the chair... pain... touch this... pain. That can't be right, that can't be right, that can't be right...

John was lost in a mire of terrible confusion. He knew with everything he had who his friends were and that none of them would ever hurt him... at least, not intentionally. It was as though there were two separate beings in his mind, one arguing for and one arguing against, tearing at him, pulling him both ways, shoving a jumble of facts into his face until he didn't know what was what. Images – memories, opinions, impressions – flew at him, filling his mind to bursting, only to recede into a lesser assault. It was as though his memories had become a tide or a wave, flowing in to drown him, then rolling back just when he was about to succumb. He could not grasp them, sift them, cling to a single image. They were too much like air.

' You need to try and focus, John, and not on a single memory. You need to focus on the here and now.'

The images stopped when the dolphin talked and when the pain hit hard. John's inclination was to try and sort his thoughts the moment his mind quieted, then the attack would happen all over again.

' It's getting worse. Grrreeaaattt. Just great. Do you know what it looks like to me? Like you're totally tripping on every narcotic imaginable. Let me try the pain thing again.'

The squeaks and clicks commenced, faster and with great agitation. Soon, the agony ripping at his side began to turn its own volume down to an uncomfortable throb. The dolphin let out a squeaking sigh.

' Okay, there we go. Sorry it's not much, but it should help you breathe. I'm usually a little loathe about influencing the subconscious, but, hey, dulling pain never does any harm. I'd numb you all together but your brain is kind of acting like congealing mud with all those thoughts; too hard to slog through and reach autopilot. You'd better hope your heart doesn't stop, or you're in trouble.'

The dolphin was right, breathing was easier. Not only that, the images had stopped.

" What the hell's happening to me?" he rasped, then coughed, enraging the throb.

' Tricky to say, John. It's never the same twice, although the same things keep happening. I can only tell you what's going on mentally, and that is you're losing your ability to control your own mind. Almost like something else is up there screwing with the controls – thankfully the controls to the thought process and not the controls that really matter – like the ones making your heart beat. Emotion seems to be the trigger. That's why you need to calm down, stop thinking for a moment. Then try not to think of anything that gets you all riled up. I know it sounds like your brain's going all chaotic, but from what I'm seeing, there's method to the madness here. For one, the memories shooting through your skull are all bad ones, and thus you're creating subconscious associations. Something bad happened to you, and your psyche automatically blames whoever was present or involved with that something bad. Like Rodney telling you to step on that X-ray device.'

At the mention of McKay's name, John shivered.

' Don't think about why he scares you!' The dolphin warned. ' The thoughts'll come back, and any emotion you feel will make it worse. You also need to be careful what you feel, or it'll be magnified like the pain. Crap, John, I wish I could explain it better. It's kind of confusing me. I don't even know how it's possible. Mentally, you're clean as a whistle, or would be normally. Something's making you paranoid against your will.'

Heeding the dolphin's advice, John focused on the dolphin's voice, and the here and now.

" Who are you? What are you?"

' All in good time, Johnny. You need to get back to the platform. I know you're scared, but you need to ignore that. If you want, once you get to a jetty, I can help you pass out. Then you won't know any better when the others come to get you. Wait... that didn't come out quite right...'

It sounded unnerving what this mega-psychic dolphin was capable of. John was about to say something to the affect when he heard an all too familiar hum that made his spine go straight and his heart slam. He immediately went under and began to swim as fast as his sore joints would let him, hoping the passing puddle jumper hadn't detected him. Thoughts raced through his mind, thoughts that increased his panic and made him pump his limbs against the ache. He needed a place to hide, any place.

He came upon a kind of narrow platform, too narrow to be a jetty or walkway of any kind, but not so narrow that John couldn't duck under it. He submerged, swimming beneath the thing, then rose up to find just enough space between the platform and water to breathe. He held his breath and listened to the constant hum of the cloaked jumper, fear clouding his every thought.

They're coming for me. What did I do? I – I don't remember... they're coming... They're furious...

'John, calm down. They're not mad, they're worried. They're not hunting you, they're trying to find you, they just want to help...'

One half of John listened, the other half didn't, and another battle ensued. Then the hum of the cloaked jumper faded away, and with it his panic. It abated enough for the cloud to become a fog, leaving John to mentally stumble in more confusion.

He was afraid.

What am I afraid of!

He couldn't say, he just was, and he hated it. It enraged him. He wasn't supposed to be pointlessly afraid. He was a soldier. Fear only came when there was a reason, then it was ignored to be dealt with at a better time. Fear hindered, it harmed, it cost lives. To give in to fear was to fail, and he was giving into it now. He was failing.

" No!" John screamed. He went under, then emerged from beneath the platform. He swam to the surface and turned to cling to that platform, his eyes darting around wildly.

I'm not giving into fear, I'm being cautious, avoiding the enemy...

' No, John...! For the love of sea-bass! Listen to me, John, you're friends are not your enemy. They're not trying to hurt you!'

John squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the edge of the platform until his fingers hurt.

" I know! I freakin' know! I can't – I can't stop... I can't convince myself... They – hurt – me... Oh gosh, why won't it stop! I can't... Think...! What's wrong with me! Why am I being like this!"

Corporeal or not, John could still sense the dolphin's presence next to him.

' It's all right John,' the dolphin soothed. ' It's all right. We'll figure this out, or I will, or Beckett could if you'd let him. Whatever it is, it's not your fault, that much I can say. You're trying, I see that you are. This is out of your hands.'

That rekindled the fury. John had no control. He was supposed to be in control. The CO of Atlantis couldn't afford to lose any control at all.

' You have a little control, John, it's just hard to grasp and hold to. It's still your mind and you still have a say in what goes on. I can help you with that, it's just going to be a little tricky. First off, you need to calm down and try not to think. Or, try to think of stuff that doesn't matter. Think about surfing, beaches, why hot-dogs are so good but made out of crap, pizza, the A-Team (I really digged that show), two trains leave Dallas at six a.m. traveling at speeds of...'

It was working, because the last bit actually got John to grin. And he liked the A-Team too. Hell, at one time he had wanted to be a member of the A-Team – but so went the ways of youthful fantasizing. He'd also thought it would be cool to be a crew-member of the Millennium Falcon.

Still do.

' That's it, John. Let your mind wander on nothingness. The way you handle a jumper, just call yourself Han Solo...'

SGA

John kept moving, pulling himself along whatever stuck out that he could grab hold of. He no longer had the energy to swim, or even to enjoy the freedom from gravity his bones felt. He was tired, so tired that he didn't even have to concentrate on getting his mind to wander incoherently, it just did.

The dolphin followed, making sure to fill John's head with nonsense so his thoughts didn't flit back to memories or try to fathom his situation. Soon the dolphin began singing, getting songs lodged in Sheppard's brain.

' We're the piraaaates, who don't do anything...! Ah, forget that, I can't remember the words. You like Magic Carpet Ride? Steppenwolf? You should, it suits you being a fly-boy and all.'

John smiled wearily. " Yeah, it kind of does." His hand slipped off of what he was holding, and he momentarily went under, resurfacing with a loud gasp.

The light of day was diminishing into dusk, and the air was cooling, brushing John's wet head and arms and awakening him to being cold. He was coughing a little more than what he had grown used to as well, which was reminding him of the sharp pain in his side.

' Next time you do a kamikaze mission, you should have that song playing. Ooohhh, Some people call me the space cow-boy! Some call me the gangster of looove...! '

Sheppard managed a small chuckle, then cleared his dry throat, and realized that he was thirsty. " I would ask how you know so much about me, but that would make it a stupid question. Should I be worried that you're learning everything there is to know about earth thanks to me?"

' Well, actually...'

The dolphin had yet to get another word out when fiery agony erupted in John's calf to go shooting up his leg. He screamed, jerking his leg away from whatever it was causing the torment. But whatever it was, it was hanging on with the tenacity of a pissed bull dog.

' Crap! Something's got your leg!'

And that something was tearing at his leg, John could feel it. Sharp, jagged knives were plunged into his flesh, and that same flesh was being pulled from his body. He screamed, then went under to try and pulled the cause of the pain away. What he saw almost had him gasping in water.

The thing was like a barracuda, but smaller, black, and sleek like a shark. It was jerking back and forth, trying to rip John's leg open. John curled and grabbed the thing's jaws to pry them apart, but the jaws held iron tight as a rusted clamp. Blood clouded the water until the thing became obscured from his sights.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, John saw a flash of amber. Little Jim's form vanished within the crimson mist, and within seconds the pressure on John's leg was gone, as was half the pain. He immediately clawed his way to the surface, and broke through, gasping, choking, and coughing.

Then the pain returned, only this time to his shoulder, and he went under. Another of the little fish beasts was latched onto him with the snout going past John's collarbone and shoulder blade. It jerked, flipping itself, tearing into him until he could feel the teeth scraping his bones. It was hard to hold his breath and fight the need to scream and gasp at the same time. He pulled at the fish, not caring if he tore away his own skin in the process. More blood seeped from him in clouds, surrounding him until he seemed to be swimming in a red ocean.

He saw Little Jim dart within his line of sight and bite the fish, crushing it until the fish released John as it struggled to fight the fate it had nearly reserved for John. Once again, John broke the surface, gasping, clutching his bleeding shoulder. He began swimming backwards, reaching out with the arm of his wounded shoulder until his hand found purchase. Gripping solid salvation, he turned to see himself clinging to another jetty.

He tried to pull himself onto it, digging his fingers into the smooth surface. Strength, however, had abandoned him completely. Blood clouded around him, and he was shaking violently from overwhelming pain and sudden cold. Each breath came and went in liquid rasps, and he felt himself beginning to slip beneath the water.

' Phew! That was close. Lucky Little Jim didn't need any coaxing. Just shot right off after I told it... John?'

John snapped from his daze enough to attempt another go at pulling himself onto the jetty, but managed to only pull his head from the water. He felt heavy enough to sink to the bottom, which he knew for a fact was a long ways down.

' Ah, no, John, don't do this. I can't help you in this arena, not exactly physical here. Just... try to hang on for as long as you can...'

John heard a squeak, but not a dolphin squeak, and felt something tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. He blinked to clear his eyes of the film trying to cover his vision, and saw Little Jim pulling at him with its mouth.

John had to admit that it was a strong little sucker. He pooled his minuscule remaining energy – which was nothing more than a grain of sand of strength – into his arm and aided Jim in its struggle. He managed to get his chest out of the water, only to slide back in. The only thing Jim could do was keep John's head from going under, but it was enough.

SGA

Beckett craned his neck, trying to keep John in sight as the pilot lowered the jumper down toward the jetty, and did not have to see Ronon behind him to know that he was doing the same. The big man was along for the ride since – from what McKay had told them – they were going to need some heavy muscle just to get John out of the water, as well as to restrain him.

The thought of restraint made Carson nervous, even a little ill, especially since Ronon had informed the doctor that John had been injured during the struggle. John was a strong, healthy man; so either his delirium was that so he didn't know when to stop fighting, or the virus had weakened him in more ways than one. Either way, Carson had a syringe at the ready to sedate John the moment Ronon had the Lt. Colonel out of the water.

Beckett squinted his eyes at something moving in front of John, but lost sight of both it and Sheppard when the jumper finally touched down. The moment the bay doors opened, Beckett, Ronon, and two soldiers hurried out, moving around the jumper to the still form clinging to the jetty, and the second form tugging on John's sleeve. The strange creature, on seeing the frantic humans, released John with a squeak of alarm and dove back into the water. John began slipping, and was about to go under when Ronon caught the back of his shirt and began hauling him up. Beckett then took one of the Lt. Colonel's arms, and a solider the other arm. All three stared in horror at the bleeding wound in John's shoulder, then his leg once that emerged.

They dragged John further onto the jetty, and in all that time the Lt. Colonel had yet to react. They laid him on his chest, and Beckett crouched, pressing his finger's to John's neck, feeling for the pulse that was weak but present. As the two soldiers ran to get a stretcher – assured that their CO was alive – Carson peeled John's wet shirt from his back to locate the injury Ronon had claimed to inflict. Carson found it easily on the Colonel's right side – a massive bruise over a visibly misaligned middle rib.

Carson's heart dropped like a rock into his stomach, and he could actually feel the blood draining from his own face. He had expected the injury to be more along the lines of a slight crack, not a full break. Sheppard was lucky beyond reason that nothing had been punctured.

Is it just me, or are John's ribs a little too easy to see? Well, he's a slim lad, of course you'd expect to see his ribs. At least a wee bit. But... I think this is different, wee bit more than a wee bit.

It really was difficult to say with John. He was thin in a healthy, active sort of way, so for him to lose weight wasn't a good thing. It must have been just starting, which was why Beckett had not taken notice of it until now, plus John was always dressed in layers. Easy to hide weight loss under a shirt, jacket, and vest.

" Bloody virus," Carson breathed in frustration. If John was losing weight after only four days of being sick, then the wicked little bug was working fast and furious.

The two men returned with the stretcher and helped Beckett and Ronon to lift the Colonel onto it, gently turning him onto his back. The deep tears in his leg and shoulder were bleeding fresh, and once aboard Carson had Ronon put pressure on the shoulder as Carson tended to the leg. He put a gauze pad on raggedly marred flesh, then began binding it to help slow the bleeding. He heard a squeak, so turned his head in time to see something amber flit into the shadows beneath a seat.

'Pay attention to the patient, doc.'

Beckett looked at Ronon. " Did you say somethin'?"

The big man shook his head no. Carson glanced at the soldiers, but they also shook their heads. So Carson shrugged and turned all his focus on Sheppard.

SGA

" Wakey, Wakey John."

Dreams of a kind John had never experienced before crashed through his mentality like an onrushing army going in for the final assault. They were terrible, almost tangible, and he could feel in them. People weren't supposed to feel in dreams. Dreams were nothing more than random, incoherent thoughts that the mind exhibited as it put itself in order – the brain's form of garbage disposal. But with these dreams came moments where he did not know he was dreaming until the very moment when the images shifted. Wraith attacks, malfunctioning machines, mutation, psycho bug from hell, numerous stuns, friends shot dead in the deserts of Afghanistan, bullets tearing through his own body, fish tearing at his body, fights, beatings, broken bones, blood, damaged organs, suffocation, arresting heart – it hurt, it all hurt so much. It refused to stop.

" John! I said wake up!"

John's eyes snapped open and he gasped in a single, ragged breath until his lungs itched and he had to cough. The pain lingered, especially in his side, shoulder, and leg, and panic wrapped a noose around his neck which began to tighten.

" John! Hey John!"

The voice was familiar - it almost sounded like his own. Panting, he forced his eyes up, and nearly choked on air when his gaze met – himself. He was staring at himself leaning casually on the bed rail. John's breath stopped all together.

His image smiled at him. " Relax, John, it's just me – super-psychic dolphin. I got kind of sick of having to put up with the crap going through your head just to talk to you, so picked a form that allowed me to be more outwardly vocal, if you get me."

John lifted his head and furrowed his brow in disbelief. His doppelganger appeared combat ready say for the absence of a P-90.

" Believe me, John, the image you see before you is a lot better looking compared to you at the moment."

Shock made John numb to everything around him. Using one arm, he pushed himself up in a sitting position, blankets slipping from his chest, his other arm stiff and useless. He heard, as though from far away, a rapid beeping, which was the only other sound besides his rasping breath. Sitting up hurt, especially in his spine, but he didn't really care at the moment. Staring at himself was starting to make the room spin.

Doppelganger held up both his hands. " John, don't make me say it again. Chill. It is me, watch."

John barely blinked, and his mirror image was gone, replaced by a horse – a white Arabian.

' Little bird in your brain told me you like horse-back riding.'

John's jaw slowly fell open. The next he blinked, his doppelganger returned.

" I would have gone for the dolphin, but didn't want to humiliate myself with flopping like a suffocating fish on the floor. Now will you please stop gaping already."

John's jaw snapped shut. " I, uh... Sorry?"

Doppelganger shrugged. " Whatever. Just get used to it already."

John closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, calming breath, expanding his lungs until his rib hitched and he was forced to exhale sharply. He was trying to clear his head, but instead started shivering. The warmth of the blankets, softness of the bed, and rapidly rising beep of a heart monitor were finally punching their way through to his awareness.

I'm in the infirmary. His eyes snapped open, then darted around, and he began to shrink against the pillow.

" John!"

John snapped his head around to look at himself. Doppelganger had his eyes narrowed.

" None of that," he warned. Then his expression softened. " Listen, you're safe. No one's in here at the moment, and even if they were, you'd still be safe. How about we talk about some good books. You're reading that War and Peace, right? Every try any Terry Pratchett, Douglas Adams? They're hilarious."

Now it was John who narrowed his eyes – at himself. I will positively, absolutely, never get used to this.

" How about we talk about you. Who – what – are you?"

" Still don't trust me, John? Don't really blame you. Caution's practically been pounded into you. Especially now. I'm... kind of hard to explain."

John felt himself sagging forward, so gave up on sitting and lay back down, never taking his eyes from his ethereal twin. " How about a name?"

Doppelganger grimaced and straightened. " Okay, that's not going to be any easier. My name – is more like an image, really. My people usually only communicate through mental pictures, not words. So think about wind blowing through some grass, a falling water drop, and a supernova, and that's my name."

John managed a small, weak smile. " Exploding Wet Grass it is, then."

Doppelganger did another narrow-eyed glare. " No. Come on, John, you're usually good at this."

John sighed, rubbed his face, then passed his hand through his hair. " Okay, Bob, Steve, and Jim I used... How about I just call you Cheshire Cat? I mean that's pretty much what you are, except for the cat part."

Doppelganger snapped his fingers and pointed at John. " That can be arranged, but I'd rather talk with human vocal cords."

" Cheshire John?"

A smile slowly spread on Doppelganger's face. " CJ, cool."

" Fine, CJ. Okay, CJ, now for the next part – what are you?"

" I'll tell you what I'm not, and that's an ascended, like that Chaya chick. I mean, maybe at one time my kind was more – solid. But that was way before my time. Me, my kind, we're energy – nothing but. I'm whatever I want to be, whatever you want me to be – except female. Even an entity has gender and a little pride. I can appear to who ever I want, in whatever form, and can travel anywhere. Like I told you before – I'm a literal free spirit."

John squinted thoughtfully. " You can travel anywhere?"

" Yeah, and I don't even need a gate. Don't flatter yourself, John, you're not the reason I know about earth. My kind tend to play favorites with planets, and earth happens to be one of the top ten. I've been residing on earth for four hundred years. I stumbled on your Stargate program about three years ago, started checking out the planets everyone was going to, just to see what was interesting. I came to Atlantis a little after you guys did when I heard that archaeologist Daniel dude talking about it and thought 'hey, that place sounds cool'."

John was speechless, but mostly because he had a thousand questions running through his mind. CJ smirked knowingly.

" We normally don't like to make ourselves known, tends to freak everyone out. You pop into a person's house just to have a little fun, and the next thing you know they're calling you a pook and throwing weird plants at you. We can read minds like an SOB and can do a little influencing with subconscious functions, but we can't control a being's mind completely. Normally we make it a point never to invade anyone's mind, including eachother's. We respect privacy. Hell, we normally don't get involved with anything or anyone. One of our laws forbids any influence in mass-being situations, like wars. Too complicated, and things tend to go haywire when you try to impart mass opinion. I wouldn't have started communicating with you if your mind hadn't screamed for the entire planet to hear. But there's no laws against aiding an individual."

John twitched his head, trying to process the information, which in the state his mind was in was like trying to rope in a bull with a piece of string.

" So, um, why, exactly, are you helping me?"

" To turn down the volume in your head, John. Kind of hard to ignore your mental screams for help. It would be cruel, like driving by someone dieing from a hit and run. I may be an expert at minding my own business, but I'm not a cold hearted piece of anti-matter. Besides, you're minds kind of amusing when it's working right."

John lifted an unsteady hand to point it accusingly at CJ. " I thought you said you didn't invade thoughts?"

" We don't invade, but we do take the occasional peek. And like I said, your mind's a massively open book right now. Even an amateur could read your thoughts. Sorry."

" Why is it an open book?"

CJ shrugged. " I don't know. The virus, maybe? Whatever it is, it isn't very pretty. But as long as you stay calm – and distracted – it shouldn't be too bad. It's mostly just fear and pain going off without your permission and at an unnatural rate, and it has a hair-trigger. It doesn't take much for it to go off. You know, it might help if you remained unconscious until this thing burns itself out or the doc finds a cure. It'd probably be a lot easier on you if you did."

John shivered when CJ said 'doc'. Images of Dr. Beckett – standing over him with syringes, scalpels, blood-caked hands, or a defibrillator – popped into his head in a continual stream that had the heart monitor really taking off.

" Uh John?"

John jumped when instead of seeing himself, he was seeing a zebra. Then John's ethereal twin reappeared wearing an apologetic expression.

" Sorry. Though I've gotta admit it's kind of fun trying to figure out what form to pop into next. I..." CJ suddenly dropped his grin and snapped his head around toward the infirmary entrance. CJ's eyes – John's eyes – went wide. " Ah son of a..." he snapped his head back around and crouched to be eye level with John. " Johnny-boy, this is gonna be bad. I need you to focus on me – whatever I become. Don't give in to whatever comes into your mind. You need to fight whatever pops in there. Got it? Fight."

John inwardly and outwardly shrank. He was about to ask why when the infirmary doors slid open, and Beckett walked in. The Scottish doctor's gaze went straight to John.

John's heart slammed, his body went cold, and every muscle went stiff as wood.

" John, look at me!" But John couldn't take his eyes off the doctor, who was smiling and approaching. A million images filled his mind to bursting.

Scalpels, blood, shocks to the heart, blood, pain, broken bones, pain, restraints, blood... " Don't worry John, you won't feel this." Like hell. " Hold him down!" Pain, screaming...

" Well, glad to see you comin' back round to the land of the living, Colonel..."

Terror filled John, and not even pain could hold him back. He sat up quick as a bolt, then fell off the bed in a mad scramble away from Beckett who halted in total shock. Pain radiated throughout John's back and side, but the moment Beckett moved into John's line of sight, the pain was forgotten and he did another mad scramble to his feet, backing away from Carson.

" John?" Carson said, raising both his hands in placation. He took slow steps toward John, and John took slow steps back, making quick glances around the infirmary for a weapon or a way out. He wasn't going to let Carson restrain him, stick him, drug him, make him weak and vulnerable – cause him pain.

He knocks me out, and in come the wraith, or the Genii, or the energy shadow, or... or...

" Or what, John?"

John saw CJ out of the corner of his eye. John – shivering, panting, and about to be cornered by Beckett and a recently arrived nurse – knew better than to give any attention to CJ. CJ was trying to distract him, and the moment that distraction happened, Beckett and the nurse would move in with the sedatives, knocking him out cold and strapping him down; making him utterly helpless for whatever came next.

" It's Beckett, John, the good doctor. When has he ever done the opposite of healing you? Come on, John, focus! Listen to me, look at me!"

CJ became a horse, a black Arabian, and began to rear and neigh, pulling at John's awareness, trying to force him to look away. John's mind spun and his heart hammered so hard that it began to drown out all other sounds. He saw Beckett's mouth move, yet heard no words.

Then John saw it, a table holding a tray of surgery tools, ready for use during emergencies. John lunged to the left and grabbed the bone saw and a scalpel, letting the rest of the tools clatter to the floor. He held both at his sides and positioned his legs in a fighting stance, his back slightly curved in preparation to lunge should anyone come at him. He continued to back away.

The black Arabian began tossing its head. ' Great, now doc's bringing in backup.'

Sure enough, within minutes, two more nurses rushed in, as well as four soldiers, Teyla, Ronon, Dr. Weir, McKay. They all flowed in, surrounding John, speaking to him with words drowned out by the thundering crash of his heart and the roar of his blood. Each face sent images ripping through him, memories on top of memories, folding and melding to become one vast nightmare. Even Teyla – Teyla who had never hurt him – pulled from John feelings of deep, painful remorse. He had been the one to activate the wraith beacon. He had been the one to bring the wraith to her people, to awaken the wraith, cause them to come. He was the reason Sumner was dead, and Ford was gone. Seeing Teyla reminded him of it all within less than a second, and the fear it produced was the fear that retribution must soon follow, and that he deserved it.

' Not true John.' CJ's voice, the only voice he could hear above the noise of memories and the noise of pumping blood. Then CJ took on John's form.

" Not true. Listen to me, John. These are your friends. Focus on the part of yourself that knows this."

John tried. He tried to recall good memories, but they didn't seem to be existing at the moment. The knowledge was there, though. The fact that these were his friends was like a whisper haunting his fractured conscious. But it was nothing more than that, a simple fact, like memorizing a history date without ever knowing the importance of that date. Without the memories to back the knowledge, he could not accept it, no matter how much he wanted to.

They were his friends, but he could not remember why.

" You don't need to remember, John. Just accept it. Take control. Prove to yourself that they're your friends and put the blades down."

John's head spun, and the world began to tilt, then he saw CJ – himself, his own face - in front of him staring back.

This has to be a dream! Let this be a dream!

" This isn't a dream, John. They won't hurt you. And I'll make sure they won't even touch you. I'm a pretty good influence when I need to be. Trust me."

John felt sick with terror, guilt, the need to run, the need to fight, and the need to wake up. Survival instincts were screaming at him to do whatever it took to get away – but he didn't want to hurt anyone.

John's back touched the wall. He was cornered, trapped, surrounded on all sides.

" Back off!" he screamed. " Leave me alone!"

Everyone stopped, Weir said something, then Teyla, Beckett, and McKay. John coughed, hard, and slid down the wall when the pain of standing finally ripped through the walls of fear. Energy drained from him like water from a broken dam, and he realized that if or when it came down to it, he would be unable to fight.

They had him. It was over. He had given into fear, and failed.

Everyone around him began closing in. John, his legs pulled up to his chest, lowered his forehead onto his knees. He let go of the scalpel, but held onto the bone-saw. He used his freed hand to grip his hair as he began rocking back and forth, and wept in his confusion.

" John?" Weir's voice. He could feel them around him, and they were even closer now. They would take him, sedate him, restrain him, forever have him trapped.

But they're my friends.

No, not anymore... they never really were. Were they?

" John?" Teyla's voice.

" Sheppard?" McKay's.

" John." Ronon, the man who could snap a bone like a twig.

" Leave him be."

John stopped rocking. That had been Beckett's voice.

SGA

A/N: Mental whumps are fuuuun. And Little Jim will soon reappear.

Small personal insight: I used to watch the A-Team when I was five. It was my favorite show at the time besides the Dukes of Hazzard, but to my chagrin I can't remember a single episode. The whole being a crew member on the Millennium Falcon deal was a fantasy of mine, also from when I was five. Some kids wanted to be super heroes, I wanted to live in the Star Wars galaxy and hang with Han and Chewy.