Author's Note: I would like to apologize to those of you who think I've spent too much time with the new characters (Nick and Kramer). I had intended for them to make a brief appearance to give a new POV of the team and how they work. I got a little too into their characters. You have to understand that Nick is almost a regular to me at this point. Kathy and I think of him as the "medical version of Sheppard", hence the references to him looking like Sheppard. In our minds, he looks a lot like Sheppard.

Anyway, I'll steer things back to the team and try to stow the OCs back into the closet, for the most part. The drop in feedback tells me I've bored most of you into a coma or scared you off entirely. For those of you who actually like Nick, my plot bunnies are feeding me an idea for a story centered on Nick and John getting themselves into trouble (one of these days when I have time)

Memories or Nightmares – Chapter 11

Teyla watched as Ronon finished off the giant pile of sausage and eggs that had covered his plate. She had truly never seen anyone eat so much in one sitting as Ronon did, at least not without gaining a lot of weight. She sighed. Apparently he burned it off because he was certainly not getting fat.

He suddenly stopped chewing and stared at her. "What?"

Teyla shook her head and looked up at him. "What? I'm sorry, did you say something?"

Ronon frowned. "You're staring at me. Why?"

Teyla smiled. "I am sorry, I was just thinking about something. Look, there's Dr. McKay and Airman Kramer." She waved at the two men as they left the line with their trays.

McKay plopped his tray down on the table next to Teyla. Kramer hesitated, looking at the open spot by Ronon and then the empty seats around them, unsure of what to do.

Ronon picked up on his unease. "Kramer, sit down." He motioned to the empty seat beside him.

Kramer just nodded and sat down, his head bowed over his plate as he picked up his fork and began to move the food around on his plate.

McKay watched him for a second before intervening. "Are you going to eat your food or play with it? Remember what I said about eating and keeping Carson happy. I meant it. Now Ronon," he motioned toward Ronon, earning a scowl from the big man, "he eats well. You'll never hear Carson tell him to eat more. You might hear the mess hall staff say they're out of food, but Carson will always be happy."

Kramer found himself smiling in spite of himself as Ronon snarled at McKay. He glanced up from his plate to meet Teyla's gaze and found she was also smiling.

"Just ignore them, Airman. They are always like this."

"It's okay. I think I'm just glad to be here."

McKay looked at Teyla and then at Ronon, grinning broadly. He grabbed his fork and dug into the hash browns.

"Hey guys, how's the breakfast today?"

All four of them looked up at Kelly, standing beside the table. "Hey Kelly," they said, almost in unison.

Kelly smiled. "I have some good news. Colonel Sheppard's blood pressure is up and his pulse is getting stronger. Dr. Beckett seems to think he's turned a corner and the Colonel's condition will continue to improve."

"That is good news," said Teyla, obviously reflecting what everyone was thinking. "Thank you for stopping to tell us."

"No problem. I'm getting some breakfast for me and Nick and I saw you guys over here. I knew you'd want to know."

McKay nodded vigorously. "Definitely. We'll stop by the infirmary later to check on him ourselves. How's Nick?"

"Better. I think Dr. Beckett will release him after breakfast. Speaking of which, I'd better get on the move before he stages a mutiny. See you guys later."

A chorus of goodbyes followed her across the mess hall. The four ate breakfast in a comfortable silence for several minutes. Kramer was sipping his coffee and looking at his plate, deciding if he was finished when McKay nudged his arm from across the table and pointed to a half a helping of breakfast casserole on the edge of his plate.

"So, are you going to eat that?"

oOo

Nick blinked several times as his eyes recovered from Carson's penlight. "I think I'm beginning to understand why they hate that thing so much."

"Mmm." Carson just nodded as he wrote on Nick's chart.

Nick sat silently on the edge of bed, having given up on getting any information out of his boss. He looked beyond Beckett to the bed with Sheppard, still hooked up to the heart monitor and ventilator. He longed to go check on his patient, but he knew Carson would never let him. That didn't stop the doctor in him from wondering about his patient, or the friend from wondering about a friend.

"Carson!" He slid off the bed and hurried over to stand beside Sheppard. It took Beckett a couple of seconds to react and join him.

"What is it, lad?"

Nick pointed to Sheppard's right hand, which was alternately gripping and loosening its hold on the sheets. They watched the irregular movement for several seconds before noticing him move his legs restlessly under the blankets. Beckett hurried over to check the ventilator and its settings.

"Looks like we can start weaning him off the ventilator," Carson reported, a smile on his face. "I'd better give him a little something to keep him from waking up, though. He's been through enough without waking up to a tube down his throat." Carson moved off to fetch a syringe with the desired drugs, a bit of a spring to his step.

Nick just smiled and patted Sheppard's arm. "Way to go, John. Just keep fighting."

oOo

The first thing Sheppard was aware of – the only thing Sheppard was aware of for quite a while, was the fire burning in his shoulder, with embers spreading across his chest and up into his neck. The flesh felt singed, scorched. The pain was so intense it took his breath away, making him feel as though all his chest and stomach muscles were clenched into a tight muscle spasm. He was vaguely aware of an intrusion in his throat, but it didn't seem important since he couldn't seem to get anything associated with breathing to work. He might have been more concerned except for the all encompassing pain that kept at the forefront of his mind.

He wasn't really aware of his hand clutching the covers until someone peeled away his fingers and replaced the cold, rough sheet with the warm flesh of their hand. He gripped it, seeking an anchor against the searing torture that radiated from his shoulder, seeking a way to escape it. And then he felt soothing relief slide into his veins and the pain began to dull and to ease. He was vaguely aware of his grip loosening on the hand in his and he didn't want to lose the contact. But the hand held firmly to his, even as he felt his own hand go limp as he slid back into the darkness.

oOo

The next time awareness began to creep in, the pain seemed less intense, more like a constant ache instead of the searing pain of earlier. The muscle cramping was gone, replaced by a heavy soreness that penetrated to the bone. He tried to shift and work through the stiffness, only to further irritate his aching body. Moaning softly, he felt something against his face, a hand softly stroking cheek. He focused on the touch, trying to let it guide him toward the fading awareness.

"John, can you hear me?" He wanted to respond, to say he could hear the soft voice, but his throat was rough and dry and the effort sent him into a coughing fit. He struggled to breathe, his sore muscles protesting the punishment and making him gasp for air.

"You're okay, son. Just relax and breathe." More hands on his chest and arm, grounding him and helping him focus as he concentrated on drawing the air into his lungs. He fought to open his eyes as the spasms in his chest and sides seemed to dwindle and fade away. The world around him came into view, a little fuzzy and unfocused.

He recognized Beckett's face, hovering above him. "Welcome back, Colonel. You gave us a bit of scare there for a while."

Sheppard just looked and blinked for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts. "You're blurry," he managed to whisper, and then tried to clear his throat.

The touch to his face again and he shifted his head a bit to one side to see Elizabeth. She smiled and slipped an ice chip up to his lips and he gratefully opened his mouth enough to let it slide in. It felt as if the moisture was immediately absorbed by his dry throat. He tried to smile to show his gratitude since his voice was so rough and uncooperative at the moment.

"Sorry about the throat, Colonel. You stopped breathing and we had to put you on a ventilator for a couple of days." It was then that Sheppard felt the presence of the nasal cannula on his face.

Beckett studied him for a few seconds. "How many fingers do I have up, Colonel?"

Sheppard squinted and tried to lift his head off the pillow a few inches as he studied Beckett's blurry hand, held out about four feet in front of him. "Two?"

"Very good, Colonel, that's right. The blurry vision should clear up in time. It's probably one of the remaining effects of the venom. Just give it a day or two."

Sheppard relaxed back against the pillows, thankful for the news his sight would clear up. He was pretty sure piloting and blurry vision didn't go well together. He closed his eyes a few seconds, feeling the lull of sleep gently pulling him back under.

"Colonel, could you stay with us just a few more minutes?" He forced his eyes back open, looking up at Beckett.

"Doc?"

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Spider . . . Wraith."

Beckett nodded. "Yes, that's right. How much pain are you in?"

Sheppard considered the question. "Sore, achy. Shoulder hurts."

Beckett nodded. "I'm afraid the spider venom included a bit of a hemolytic agent. It destroys the tissue surrounding the bite site. We've had to clean the dead tissue away daily and I'm afraid it's left quite a bad spot. You'll have a bit of scar where the thing bit you."

Sheppard snorted, followed by coughing. Beckett slid his hand behind Sheppard's upper back and lifted him upright some until the choking spell had passed. He then eased him back down to the bed. Elizabeth gave him another ice chip and he lay with his eyes closed, letting it melt and cool his raw throat. "Great. More bug scars."

Exhaustion seemed to wash over him and he once again felt the pull of darkness. He tried to focus on Elizabeth's voice, but found himself yielding instead to the pull of sleep and the sounds around him slowly faded away.

oOo

The next time Sheppard came back to consciousness, he did so more quickly. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision, sighing as he moved in the bed and woke his aching muscles. He tried to push himself farther up on the pillows so he could see better, but only succeeded in sending stabbing pains through his left shoulder. He closed his eyes for a moment against the newly awakened pain and then opened them to find Beckett smiling down at him as he raised the head of the bed a little.

"Thanks," he said softly, his voice still feeling rough and unused. "Can I get a drink?"

"John?" he shifted his gaze to the voice on the other side of the bed. Elizabeth was holding a cup out for him to drink. He hadn't even realized she was there. Leaning up a bit, he took the straw in his mouth and began drinking, suddenly feeling like he wanted to drink a gallon. Elizabeth pulled the straw from his mouth after a few sips, though. "That's good, not too much."

He leaned back against the pillow, amazed at how tired that little action had made him. He was pleased to realize that the heart monitor and nasal cannula were history, even though he was still stuck with the IV and catheter. "How long?"

Beckett thought. "Well, it was yesterday that I spoke to you last, but it's been four days since you got back to Atlantis, which means you were bitten five days ago."

"You definitely took your sweet time waking up. Pausing for dramatic effect, no doubt. You do love the attention." Sheppard shifted his gaze back toward Elizabeth and only then saw McKay standing a little behind her with Ronon and Teyla. He smiled at the sight of his team.

"Hey, you guys okay?"

McKay rolled his eyes. "No. Sprained ankle here. And of course they made me walk on it while you rode back to the gate. Now where have we seen that before? Just because I wasn't unconscious doesn't mean I didn't need a ride."

"It wasn't even sprained, McKay. Just badly twisted." Ronon stepped to the foot of the bed. "Nice pet you found, Sheppard. Not very friendly though."

"He has attitude problems. Thinking of making him a guard spider."

Beckett snorted. "There's not enough left of it for that."

Sheppard smiled. "Good point. What was that thing, anyway?"

"Well," said Beckett as he crossed his arms, "Dr. Kingston said it was very much like a spider on the outside – eight legs, two body sections, and mouthparts that looked very much like chelicerae, but that it was different on the inside. The organs and their arrangement are different than spiders on earth. She seemed genuinely fascinated. The venom seems to be a mixture of primarily a strong neurotoxin, and a hemolytic toxin that causes the tissue around the bite site to break down and decay. It's like a combination of a souped-up black widow and a brown recluse, or possibly a rattlesnake."

"Great," Sheppard mumbled. "I hate the bugs in this galaxy. Did everyone make it back okay? Last thing I remember is Lorne saving the day."

Sheppard knew from the looks on their faces that everyone hadn't made it back. He had this sinking feeling in his gut that made him regret having asked the question. "What happened?"

"More Wraith came through the gate," reported Teyla as she looked sadly to the floor. "We were able to request reinforcements from Atlantis, but the the Wraith got to us before the rescue team."

Sheppard took a deep breath. "How many did we lose?"

"Six," said Ronon.

McKay sighed heavily. "We lost Airman Simpson."

John closed his eyes, seeing the young Airman in his head, the way the sight of the dead villager had made him sick. "What about Kramer?" he asked, his voice tight with controlled emotion.

"He's okay, some bruised ribs and a couple of cracked ones. He's just kind of . . . upset."

John nodded slightly. "Yeah, losing your best friend does that to you. Crap, his first mission. Killed on his first mission."

McKay looked down at Sheppard, the anguish evident in the furrowed brow and tightly drawn mouth. "You know there's nothing you could have done to prevent this, right?"

"Yeah there is. I could have not gotten myself bitten by that stupid spider. If I'd been more careful, we never would have needed the first rescue team. Six people died because I can't seem to stay away from alien bugs. Let's just add that to the two that died the last time I had a bug encounter." He laughed bitterly. "At this rate, I'll kill off enough people to man the Daedalus in no time."

"John." Elizabeth took his hand in hers. "That's not fair. This is war and we are going to lose people. It's no one's fault. And we aren't leaving someone behind just because it's you. You risk your life to go after people and you'll have to accept the fact that people here are willing to risk their lives to go after you."

Sheppard closed his eyes tightly. "I know, I just . . . I don't like the idea that they died coming after me."

"No one wants that to happen. You'll have to accept the fact that they had enough respect for you that they were willing to take that risk. And tell me John, when you joined the military, was it because it was a safe, no risk job?"

"Okay, you've made your point." He turned his face away from Elizabeth, not wanting her to see the guilt that was still eating away at him, almost making him sick. He looked over to find Carson holding his wrist and taking his pulse.

"Doc?"

Carson looked at Sheppard, noting the slight hint of panic in the man's voice and the frown on his face as he tilted his head up off the pillow. "Colonel?"

Sheppard was staring at Carson's hold on his wrist. "You're touching my arm."

"Yes. I've found that's helpful when taking a pulse." Carson's brow furrowed as he looked at Sheppard quizzically. "What is it, lad?"

Sheppard's breathing had increased and the color had drained from his face. "I can't feel my arm. I can't move it either. Doc, I can't feel my arm!"

TBC