AN: Wow...you guys are amazing, but can we say 'performance anxiety'? Yikes! (but I'll try to keep my mental issues under guard and keep updating fast, deal?)Thanks again to Linzi and gaffer and Shelly, as always, for beta, input and a shoulder to whine my fears upon!

Chapter 3

The next two days passed in a confusion of fevered dreams, and when they broke, it left John weak and wrung out. He uncurled from the ball he'd slept in, and blinked at the darkness that never changed whether his eyes were open or shut. Sometimes, if he turned just right, he thought he saw a lighter shade of black in his peripheral vision.

If it hadn't been for the fact that Calicut had already explained that it might happen, he would've shouted for someone. Instead, John knew it was a sign the swelling was going down, easing the compression. A good sign, but the doctor had warned him not to get too excited if and when it happened. Ha. Seeing that edge of gray had made him feel like a kid on his first Ferris Wheel ride. Giddy at the thought this might not be permanent.

"You're back with us," exclaimed Gadmere from John's doorway.

"I never left," John answered, his voice tinged with irony. "What happened?"

Footsteps echoed around Sheppard's bed. "I'm afraid you caught a childhood disease, very common in our children and not dangerous, as I've assured your friends -"

Friends? "Rodney?"

A chair crinkled under the weight of Gadmere's body as he sat, and the nylon-like pants rubbed together. "He came out of his coma the first day of your illness, that would be the day before yesterday, and has made remarkable improvements. Today he is quite animated."

Animated, that was a new one. John had to give it to Gadmere, he was definitely a politician. "Teyla?" He knew Ronon had been awake, but Teyla had still been sedated.

"She is doing well. Doctor Groton is having her walk today, to begin the healing process. She is weak, and worries over the rest of you."

That was the understatement of the year. Teyla had always seemed to take a mother hen-ish role towards the team. Pushing food on them, did you get any sleep, and all sorts of annoying behavior that thankfully had yet to involve toothbrushes. There was that time she'd tucked him in, but they'd both agreed never to mention it, ever. He'd been sick on a mission, she'd been worried. John had even admitted it'd kind of felt nice. She'd given him a lopsided grin, and told him to not get ill again. He had wondered how much of her hovering stemmed from the losses she'd suffered repeatedly as a child, but had decided to leave the psychology to Heightmeyer.

And now, it hadn't just been him, but his entire team. If you're going to do something, don't do it half-assed. He was pretty sure that saying wasn't meant for this kind of situation. John turned towards Gadmere, hating the fact that whenever he tried to look at someone, he could only guess if he was actually staring at them. He wasn't going to ask and go through 'a little to the left, down…just a hair to the right, yes' every time he wanted to make eye contact.

"I want to see them," he said. It wasn't quite a demand, like before, because these people's actions had lulled him…a little. Didn't mean he wasn't still freaking out over the situation they were in, it was just that he wasn't expecting to be tortured or beaten, or anything else equally bad, yet.

"You're weak, John, it's not a good idea."

He rolled his eyes. "Nothing I do is ever a good idea, just get me a chair. I promise I won't sue you for any damages."

If he'd been able to see, and he couldn't, but if he COULD, he was pretty sure Gadmere was looking a little confused. Despite still staring at what was a black curtain, now dotted in lighter shades at the corners, John was feeling hopeful. Rodney and Teyla were awake. Progress, no matter how small it may seem, was still progress.

"I see," Gadmere replied stiffly. "Very well, but for a short time only. I assume you will want to visit Ronon, also?"

John inclined his head Gadmere's way. "That would be…lovely," he grinned.

The administrator sighed, but told him he'd send someone with a wheelchair. Sheppard almost told him if they were too much of a bother they could send him and his team back to the gate, but Gadmere had already left. It was a battle he was going to take on again, now that everyone was slowly recovering. Becoming a member of the Nokomis people wasn't in Sheppard's Top Ten List of Things to Accomplish Before I Die.

It wasn't too long before a woman staff member who introduced herself as Tamar knocked on his door, calling out that his transport had arrived. He smiled warmly in her direction and started to sit. John was surprised to find his muscles quivered and some of them refused to do what he told them to do. Glaring inwardly at what he imagined his legs were doing, he felt Tamar next to him. She took his arm, helping him sit.

"Some weakness is to be expected, John," she reminded him softly. "Let me help you."

He reluctantly returned her grip. This sucked, but then again, John was pretty sure he'd already said that. She helped him stand, and take the few steps to the chair. The move left him sweating like a kid having done loops around his parents. He let out a shaky breath and asked, "Where are my sugar smacks?" He was so weak he could barely keep upright in the chair.

"What?" she stuttered behind him.

John shook his head. Cultural references were only fun when it was Teyla or Ronon being needled. He waved it off, and said, "I'm ready."

Tamar wheeled him to Rodney first, and he counted that McKay was only ten seconds down from his own room. John heard sounds that let him know he wasn't alone with McKay. There were scratching sounds of someone writing on a chart, and murmurs from staff talking together.

"Sheppard!" Rodney's voice was stronger than he'd hoped for, and surprised. And really, John was pretty sure he was equally shocked. Gadmere had said McKay was 'animated' but it was still…indefinable…to hear him sound that good, with John's only memories being bandaging McKay's head to try and keep Humpty Dumpty together, and then holding his hand when he was comatose.

"Rodney," John said in a way that said everything.

Tamar pushed his wheelchair forward to what John figured was next to McKay's bed, and then locked the wheels. Before leaving, she touched his shoulder briefly and said that she'd be back to get him later.

Just to test his theory of where she'd placed him, John stuck his foot out. Yep, bed frame. John leaned forward and whispered out the side of his mouth, "I'm John and you're Rodney."

Sheppard listened as the silence stretched, and then finally Rodney repeated very slowly, "I'm Rodney" then added, "and you're John." More silence. "Didn't you say I was the one with brain damage?" Rodney asked with a perplexed edge, and from the change in McKay's voice, he was pretty sure the question had been directed to someone else in the room.

John's mouth tightened. "Rodney, did you know I actually worried over you? Just, stick to first names, okay?" He hissed the last part, trying to keep it between the two of them.

"Yes, well, you should've. I was apparently hovering close to death," replied McKay. "And why first names only, it's not like they can type Sheppard into a central computer and draw up your life story."

"We – just," John fumbled. "Humor me, okay? Humor the one that's in charge of keeping you alive."

"Is that something you really want to take credit for right now?" Rodney asked, the sarcasm lacing through the words. "Because I've got an incredibly large headache, and things are a little fuzzy about how we got here, and I'm pretty sure I covered the 'almost dying' thing."

John shook his head, telling himself he should've seen Ronon first. Or Teyla. "You told me to dig there. 'X marks the spot', remember?"

"Really? I don't remember," McKay replied too quickly. "They say some memory loss is normal."

"Convenient," John replied. "Look, how are you, really, because we've got to -" he trailed off. Narrowing his eyes towards McKay, he leaned even more forward, and almost tipped out of the chair. "How many of them are in here?" he whispered.

"Three. And I know what you're going to say. Normally, I would agree with you, but for now don't you think maybe we should just –"

"No," interrupted John. He didn't add that as soon as they could move, he wanted to find a way out of here. Even as quiet as he was trying to be, John knew the staff in McKay's room could be listening in. There was silence again. Sheppard wondered if McKay knew how much he hated that. Without talking, he had no way of knowing what Rodney was thinking.

Then again, he should've known McKay wouldn't be quiet for long. "So, how are you?" Rodney asked with an edge of awkwardness.

"I'm blind, Rodney. Just go ahead and get it out, because you're probably the last person I'd expect hand-holding from," John said emphatically. He wasn't going to beat around the bush with McKay. That'd never been their relationship, and he wasn't going to let it be now.

Surprisingly, John heard Rodney snort. "Hand-holding is not a sport I practice." McKay coughed self-consciously before continuing. "For once, the timing in my life is good. This hair-cut I've got is something you'd never let me live down."

"They cut your hair?" No shit, John, of course they cut his hair. The better to drill holes in skulls with, or cut, or whatever they'd done to McKay. And he'd sat here with no clue. Did Rodney have bandages on his head? John wanted to know what McKay looked like, but then, almost as much, was glad he didn't know.

"Yes, they did." The disgust was tangible. "And in a much larger circumference than I feel was necessary, but their doctor stares at me every time I bring it up. Do you know how long it'll take to grow back? Weeks, months – and I didn't bring any hats." Rodney snapped a finger, and the familiarity of the sound made John smile. "You've got hats, I want one when we get back -"

"Rodney, when we get home, I'll give you a hat," John cut him off before he said anything. "Because home is a long ways away right now." He emphasized long ways and hoped Rodney would clue in.

"Right," McKay agreed slowly. "Long ways. So. How are you, aside from the blind issue? They told me you caught their version of the chicken pox, which, oddly enough, doesn't surprise me."

John relaxed into the chair. He'd got it. Of course he would. It was Rodney, after all. He tended to ramble but he wasn't stupid. "Better now," John declared. "Much better." He decided to ignore the dig at his maturity.

They fell into small talk until the doctor said Rodney needed to rest. John could tell by the slight tremors in McKay's voice that he wasn't as strong as he'd sounded at first, and was still recovering. Anyway, Sheppard still had to visit with Ronon and Teyla. He told Rodney he'd talk with him later and then Tamar wheeled him out, taking him next to Teyla's room.

"John?" Teyla called. Tamar had announced they'd arrived at her room, and she kept going forward for a few seconds before stopping and locking the wheels, again.

"Hi, Teyla," he smiled. "Gadmere tells me you're recovering."

There was the sound of sheets shifting, and then his chin was in her warm hands as she lifted his face. John covered her hands with his own, and pulled them away gently. "I'm still blind."

He sensed her pull away. "I see," said Teyla evenly. "John -"

"Are we alone?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes."

"First names only, don't give out any information, at least keep as much of it to yourself as possible. This Gadmere, he seems honest enough, but you don't stay alive by trusting everyone who comes across as nice," he warned. "Priority is getting back on our feet. Then, we find a way home."

"Ronon will not be on his feet for at least another four weeks," Teyla said quickly. "And this Gadmere, he has told me we are not to ever leave this place."

John smiled. "And we always listen to what the nice aliens tell us?"

"Will…they not be looking for us?" Teyla stumbled, almost saying Atlantis.

"They would've started days ago," John agreed. "But seeing how we're still here, and they're not, my guess is these Nokomisians did something to hide where we fell through."

There were a lot of questions John wanted answers to, but now that he was here with Teyla, he wanted to know the little things that in the long run, didn't amount to anything, but it was driving him crazy not knowing. He leaned forward. "What does it look like here? The people? This place, describe it for me." John didn't say please. He just needed to know something, and he couldn't bring himself to ask it of Rodney, or Ronon.

"It is not like home," she began. Once she started, she didn't hesitate. She described austere walls made out of metal, with low-lighted ceilings and a people that were so pale as to shine. They were a thin, spindly, race with long hair but meticulous uniforms and manners. And Teyla did not think they would let them leave easily.

"Are you -" he trailed off. He wanted to know what she looked like. Were there cuts on her face that would scar, like Rodney and his cut hair and head? But it treaded into uncomfortable ground, and he didn't know how to finish.

"Yes?" she prodded. "Am I -"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind." He smiled wider.

"Time to go, John," Tamar called from behind him.

Saved by the Nokomisian, John thought wryly. "I'll see -" he closed his eyes and sighed with the frustration of saying stupid things that kept making him remember he couldn't see. "I'll talk to you later," he amended.

"John -"

Her voice was sympathetic and strained, and John gestured for Tamar to take him away. "Bye, Teyla," he said, ignoring the opening. He might feel comfortable enough to talk to her more than he would the others, but that was still ground he didn't feel up to treading on.

She didn't reply, and he wasn't sure it was because Tamar had already moved him into the hall, or if she didn't know what to say. Either way, it was for the best. Next up was Ronon.

"Sh – John," Ronon called, as he was wheeled into the runner's room, almost saying Sheppard. "You survived their childhood disease." His gravelly voice was amused, and John wasn't.

"I catch a virus that almost kills me, and all you and Rodney can do is make fun of me?"

"It's funny," Ronon rumbled. "That annoying guy said most of their kids catch it by the time they turn seven, and it wasn't dangerous. Come to think of it, you're kind of small, maybe it mistook you for a -"

"You know what," John interrupted. "Remember that leg of yours, and what it's gonna be like walking after they let you up." John heard Tamar leave. Finally. "She's gone, right?" he asked quietly, the teasing tone evaporating into military business.

Ronon grunted. "Yeah. As far as I can tell, it's a small staff here. Lot of the same faces. City is bigger, and it's sealed. We fell down a…mistake."

"Damn," swore John. "And let me guess, they'll probably go back over their records and try to make sure there aren't anymore mistakes."

"I think so," Ronon agreed, annoyed. "But I get the impression things move slower around here. They aren't big on defense, because they've got their isolation going for them, but they do have a force that maintains order. Crime would be a problem in a contained city like this."

John nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that. Still, it's a good start." He pondered asking how Ronon had gotten the information, but figured it was best to leave some things to the imagination. The thought of the runner batting his eyelashes at a nurse… "How's the leg?"

"Better, itches. The doc's gonna let me try out crutches tomorrow."

"Good, we need everyone on their feet as soon as possible." He tried to get an idea of how long they'd been here. A week? At least, but not that much more. "Don't overdo it and cause a set back," John warned him.

"I don't have set backs."

Sheppard gave a pained smile. Not like some unnamed individuals who catch childhood diseases. "Right. Okay, keep digging, I'm going to talk to Gadmere and see what progress I can make. In the meantime, don't do anything stupid."

"Stupid?" repeated the runner.

John was pretty sure he wasn't imagining the disgruntled tone. Still, stupid applied. "Rash, impulsive, leading to danger," he clarified dryly.

"John, are you ready?" Tamar called.

He had to hand it to her. She had impeccable timing. "See you, big guy," he smirked.

"Yeah," Ronon responded. "Sh…John, don't do anything…rash."

He really did try to glare Ronon's way as Tamar wheeled him around. Course, knowing his luck, he'd glared at the wall, or Ronon's feet, or something equally unimpressive. Shit.

OoO

When he got back in his bed, with a lot of help from Tamar, John closed his eyes and felt mildly disappointed. He was alone again, with all the blackness and gray edges staring back at him. The trip had worn him out, and it didn't take much time before he fell asleep.

Waking up to the smell of dinner, John pushed himself upright, looking around even though he couldn't see. Was the person still there, or had they just left the tray and gone? He reached out tentatively and felt the table in front of him, and pulled it closer.

Fumbling, he found the napkin, and spread it over his lap. Eating blind was messy business, and even though it pissed him off when he spilled it on himself, having to be spoon fed made him angrier. But right now, things were looking up, and he found himself looking forward to the next day. He should've known it couldn't last.

"I hear you still wish to leave."

John's hand jerked. "I didn't know you were there," he said flatly.

Gadmere moved in the chair. "And I didn't know you couldn't accept reality."

"Whose reality?" retorted John. "This is your city, your people…your reality. Not ours."

"I explained before that once you arrived in the city, there was no going back," insisted Gadmere. "I thought you understood."

Understood? John had understood that these people were naïve enough to think that they'd give up their lives just because they said so. "Gadmere, we have people out there looking for us. Depending on us to get home so we can continue to do our jobs. Just like you have people here who depend on you," he reasoned.

"You can't do your job, John. You're blind."

Sheppard cringed from the blunt statement. "Maybe not," he agreed tightly. "But the others can."

"No, they can't." John heard Gadmere stand. "We have helped you and your friends recover, expending valuable resources. But our benevolence stops when you threaten exposing our city. All that we have left is down here. The Wraith drove us underground, and here we will remain, because here there is life without the constant threat of death, and I will not let you take that from us. Do not push our good will."

The administrator left in a swishing of material, and John pushed the tray of food away. His appetite was gone, and in its place was uneasiness. Damn it! John jerked, and accidentally hit the table the tray was on, causing it to tip, and with a loud crash, he knew it'd fallen to the floor. Great. Just great. He ignored whoever arrived to clean it up. When she asked if he wanted another tray, John ground out a no. His optimism and good mood had vanished with his appetite. And if they brought another tray, he'd throw that one, too, except this time, it'd be on purpose.