Sorry it's taken me so long to update this fic – many thanks to all those who reviewed and who poked and prodded and chased me to update. :) Hope you like the results.

Lots of introspection again in this chapter – and not much in the way of action – but there's more whumpage for you to enjoy and even some more "Sheppy nekkid under a sheet" action!

Next chapter we will see things begin to slowly resolve.. I think Sheppy's taken about as much damage as he can for now!

The debrief on Ronon and Teyla's trading mission was short and to the point; no-one seeming inclined to speak more than was necessary. Elizabeth's questions were short and precise, Teyla's answers brief. Ronon, taciturn at the best of times, was a silent, glowering presence and what words were spoken were quiet, everyone lowering their voices seemingly by some unspoken agreement. The atmosphere in the room was altogether tense and subdued. Though they tried their best to carry on business as usual, it was clear that everyone's mind was on something – or, more precisely, someone - else.

Elizabeth took a moment during the briefing to regard her primary gate team; the tension was evident on all of their faces, Sheppard's absence a palpable reminder of the object of their concern. It was as if there were a fifth person in the room, a ghostly presence who served only to highlight the empty space where the Colonel should have been. Sheppard was their team leader, a controlling influence who fused these disparate personalities into an efficient, working group. In many ways, Sheppard was the glue that held the team together and without him they seemed.. incomplete.

Rodney, freshly-released from the infirmary, though under protest from Carson, still looked exhausted. He was supposed to be resting, and Carson would probably have her hide when he found out McKay had attended the debriefing, but the scientist had insisted on being included, seeking, she suspected, to distract himself with activity, with some semblance of normal, every-day life. Thus far, she didn't think it was working. McKay sat up straight in his chair and gave every indication of paying attention to the conversation but whenever she glanced his way she would find a far-off look to his eyes and a rigidity to his posture that spoke volumes.

Carson had been reluctant to release Rodney but McKay had argued that if all he needed was rest then he could do that as well, if not better, in his own quarters as in the infirmary. In a reversal of his usual behaviour, which saw him turning up at the infirmary to demand treatment for every minor injury or imagined condition, McKay had seemed desperate to escape, finally losing his temper and snapping at Dr Beckett that he was never going to get any rest in here, knowing that Sheppard was busily dying in the next room.

After that Carson had stopped arguing with Rodney and agreed to his release – under strict conditions that he get plenty of rest and eat regularly. Taking note of the pallor to Rodney's skin and the shadows under his eyes, Elizabeth made a mental note to personally take Rodney to the mess hall, by force if necessary, once the debrief was over and make sure that he followed at least one of Beckett's orders.

If there was ever a complete opposite to McKay's mercurial, heart on his sleeve personality, then it would probably be Ronon. Elizabeth found him difficult to read at the best of times. Never given to lengthy conversation, he mostly kept his thoughts – and certainly his emotions – to himself and his somewhat brooding demeanour had the, almost certainly intentional, effect of discouraging attempts at communication. That the man had built some kind of bond with Sheppard and respected the Colonel immensely was plain for all to see and his concern for his CO had been more than demonstrated by his actions since hearing the news of Sheppard's accident. More than that though, Elizabeth could not say. The Satedan had barely spoken a word to anyone since they had left the infirmary earlier that morning and he now sat through the debrief in stony silence, a scowl on his face as Teyla described their meetings with the Lenarans.

As for Teyla.. the petite Athosian was a leader of her people for good reason. Teyla's calm, level-headed attitude was a great asset to the team and Elizabeth had a great deal of respect for the Athosian's honesty and integrity and her oft-needed skills in diplomacy. Elizabeth also had a unique perspective on the burden of leadership that Teyla carried with her. A leader must be strong for her people, someone on whom they can depend. A leader cannot simply put her duties aside because a friend is ill, maybe even dying. Her people still need her and her duty lies with them. Elizabeth understood this and the look in Teyla's eyes told her clearly that Teyla understood and empathised with Elizabeth's own responsibilities.

Ronon was on his feet almost before Elizabeth had wrapped up the debrief and dismissed the team, striding quickly from the room, tightly-contained frustration evident in every line of his body. He was gone from view within moments, his steps carrying him in the direction of the infirmary. Elizabeth watched him go with a look of resignation on her face. Carson had been extremely strict on allowing access to the Colonel, keeping everyone out of the recovery room and allowing only very brief visits. It was difficult for the team, his closest friends; their natural instinct being to be near their injured comrade, to offer what support they could and to reassure themselves of his continued survival. Dr Beckett, however, remained firm, if not unsympathetic. The Colonel, he informed them, was still very weak and required constant monitoring. Brief visits would have to suffice for the time being. Teyla gave Dr Weir her usual, solemn nod as she left the room, following in Ronon's path, and Elizabeth relaxed a little, knowing if anyone could soothe Ronon's temper it would be Teyla.

Elizabeth stretched tiredly as she rose from her seat, a sudden yawn taking her by surprise. She glanced at her watch, realising glumly that she'd only had about 2 hours' sleep at most in the past 30-odd hours. Funny how the mind played tricks on one's perception of time. It was something of a shock to realise that barely 24 hours had passed since the explosion that had injured John; that this time just yesterday the expedition's military commander was walking around the city, whole and healthy.

"Rodney,"

Dr McKay started at the sound of her voice, actually physically jumped in his seat, and Elizabeth felt concern wash through her. They were all so fixated on whether John was going to survive, it was easy to forget what Rodney had been through. He'd been lucky to escape the explosion with minor physical injuries but emotionally the experience had been traumatic. She couldn't imagine how she would be feeling right now if it had been she who had knelt in that dark and smoke-filled corridor, trying desperately to stop Sheppard's bleeding, seeing him, feeling him die right under her hands. She could only thank god that Carson had reached them when he did.

"Come on, Rodney. Let's get you something to eat."

McKay looked like he was about to argue but Elizabeth was not about to take no for an answer.

"I'm already going to be in trouble with Carson for allowing you to attend the debriefing when you should be resting," she chided gently, keeping her tone determinedly light. "If I don't at least make sure that you eat something, he's probably going to remember that I'm long overdue for some inoculation or other… and I like needles about as much as the next man!"

The grim expression on Rodney's face made it clear that he saw right through her attempt at levity.. but the look of gratitude in his eyes told her that he appreciated the effort nonetheless. The exhausted scientist rose stiffly from his seat, fatigue evident in his every movement, and allowed Elizabeth to lead him from the room.

Elizabeth found Carson in his office. Her Chief Medical Officer looked exhausted, slumped in his chair, his attention fixed on the charts that covered his desk. She didn't need to look over his shoulder to know whose charts they would be.

He greeted her with a tired smile, anticipating her first question and answering it before she had chance to speak.

"He's stable, love. No real change since this morning."

"Actually," she smiled, "I was going to ask how you are?"

"Me? Oh, I'm fine, lass.." He dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand, a show of nonchalance that didn't fool either of them for a second. Elizabeth knew for a fact that Carson had had no more sleep than she recently, spending every moment he could caring for his patient, doing his best to stabilise the Colonel's condition. The kind-hearted Scot cared so deeply for his patients and she once again had cause to be thankful for his skill and his dedication to his work. The fact that Sheppard was alive at all right now was entirely due to Carson's efforts.

"I take it Ronon stopped by earlier?" By unspoken agreement they moved onto neutral topics, Carson grinning ruefully as he described the Satedan's attempts to intimidate the nurses into allowing him entry to the recovery room.

"Teyla suggested we start sending nurse Bieler along on some of our trading missions," Carson laughed. "Apparently she is a mean negotiator!"

Elizabeth felt some of her tension lift as she shared a brief moment of levity with Beckett. God, it felt good to just forget their worries for a moment, to have something – anything – to laugh about.

The respite was to be short-lived.

Even as Carson was describing the look on Ronon's face as nurse Bieler effectively stonewalled him, an alarm began to squeal shrilly from within the infirmary and their laughter fell away in an instant, their eyes locking in a moment of pure understanding, both of them knowing immediately that the alarm meant only one thing.

"Dr Beckett!" The nurse's voice was high-pitched, tight with urgency as she called for his presence. Another crisis. Dammit.

As they ran to the recovery room, Elizabeth became aware of another sound beneath the shrill wail of the alarm; a rattling, clattering sound. She was right behind Carson as they burst into the room, Beckett moving immediately to Sheppard's bedside, conferring urgently with the duty doctor who already had a prepared syringe in his hand. Elizabeth's steps faltered at the sight of Sheppard, her heart sinking at his condition.

The Colonel's body was jerking convulsively, his limbs twitching spasmodically, making the bed rattle and shake. The sound of the infirmary bed rattling with the force of his convulsions seemed impossibly loud as she stood helplessly and watched him shudder, the ventilator tube shaking and trembling, IV tubing swaying and bouncing as his arms jumped involuntarily.

The Colonel's bed was once again the centre of a flurry of activity, nurses trying to hold his twitching limbs still and prevent leads and IVs being pulled out, Carson moving quickly to inject the Colonel with anti-convulsant medication. Elizabeth hung back, unwilling to get in the doctors' way as they worked, watching in despair as her Chief Military Officer, her friend, suffered yet another setback. She couldn't help but wonder how much more of this his body could take. Watching him seize helplessly before her she felt the tiny flame of hope within her flicker and die. They were going to lose him for good this time. His grip on life was so.. so fragile and she felt she could almost see him slipping away.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, Sheppard's convulsions began to ease, his body slowly stilling and, with one or two last spasmodic jerks, he was finally quiet. In the silence that followed, Elizabeth swore she could hear the medical team breathe out in a shared sigh of relief, the nurses carefully relinquishing their grips on the Colonel's limbs. She took a hesitant step forward, needing to reassure herself that he was still alive, still hanging on.

Beckett was busy checking the monitors as she moved up alongside the bed, sparing her no more than a brief glance as he and the duty doctor went over the readouts and muttered over Sheppard's charts. The sheets covering the Colonel had tangled from his violent movements and Elizabeth's mouth tightened as she saw again the mottled rash of pinprick bleeding scattered across Sheppard's exposed chest. The marks were red and angry against the extreme pallor of his skin, his lean frame somehow seeming frail and delicate in the confines of the infirmary bed. Despite his generally easy-going nature, his laid-back attitude, Colonel Sheppard had an intensity to him, a sense of hidden strength and fortitude that belied his slim build. That strength seemed to have deserted him now and Elizabeth found it hard to reconcile the still, pale body before her with the vibrant, strong-willed man who worked alongside her to run this expedition.

"Dr Weir.."

She started slightly at Carson's voice, raising her eyes to meet his concerned gaze. With a gentle hand on her arm he guided her away from the bedside, his manner subdued as he answered her unspoken question.

"As you saw, the Colonel suffered a seizure. It's not uncommon in these situations, I'm afraid. We're still fighting to stabilise his blood chemistry after the transfusions and his calcium dropped a wee bit too low."

"Is he..?" She cut off on that train of thought, swallowing thickly, struggling to get the words out. "How will this affect his recovery?"

Carson shook his head sadly. "I wish I could tell you, lass. We've controlled the seizure and I've started him on medication to increase his calcium.. we'll continue to monitor him closely and try to prevent any more episodes. It's all we can do right now."

He rubbed a hand at the back of his neck as he spoke, massaging the tired, tense muscles.

"It's up to him now, Elizabeth. We're doing everything we can, keeping his condition as stable as possible to allow his body time to recover from the trauma." He did his best to reassure her, "He's been through a lot - but he's strong, stronger than any of us realise, I suspect."

Elizabeth couldn't help but think how frail Sheppard had looked lying limp and tangled in that infirmary bed, how that strength that she had come to depend on had seemed to be entirely missing.

Beckett's voice was gentle but nothing could soften the brutal truth of his words.

"Whether Colonel Sheppard survives is down to him now."

TBC..