Thanks to Linzi and gaffer for their wonderful beta help, all remaining mistakes are mine! This is part one of an episode tag for Common Ground. Warnings: Spoilers for Common Ground, swearing.

Old Wood Best to Burn

AN: Title taken from this quote; Old wood best to burn, old wine to drink, old friends to trust, and old authors to read. Quoted by Francis Bacon, Apothegm

It wasn't until he flew the Jumper through the gate, and settled the ship into its berth on the floor, that it finally hit him. Really hit him. He was home. He was alive. He wasn't a candidate for geriatric patient of the year.

Sheppard turned in his seat, watched as the marines that had gone on the rescue mission filed out, then his eyes shifted to McKay, Ronon, Teyla…Carson standing by the door leading into the cockpit. They hadn't moved, and they were all staring at him.

With a smile he didn't quite feel, he assured them, "I'm fine, guys."

Carson was grave as he shook his head. "I'll be the judge of that, Colonel. You do realize you're going to be my guest for a while?"

"I'm fine," Sheppard reiterated. He really was…and, then again, he wasn't. Physically, he felt stronger then ever, elation and endorphins still singing through his veins. It's pretty damn hard to beat going from the brink of death, aged to a corpsicle, then suddenly returned to normal. When you think your life is over, and then it's handed back…how do you describe something like that? It was like waking up from a nightmare and freezing that one moment of realization when you figure out that everything horrible was just a dream, that it wasn't real.

Except, what'd happened to him was real. It wasn't a nightmare that he could wake up from, shake off with a cup of coffee and a bad joke, and move on.

Sheppard had kept a mental countdown after every feeding. Assessed his body, tried to keep track of how many years he was losing…the first time, he hadn't felt a lot different. The pain, sure, that'd been there in spades. But otherwise, he'd still felt young. His hands, muscles, nothing seemed sunken and drained. Maybe some joint pain, mild compared to the pain of the feeding.

The second time, though, that had been different. That's when he knew it'd gone too far for him to ever return to his 'normal' life. He'd felt old. His skin, his body, joints…it went far beyond the pain from just the feeding process. Afterwards he'd half-slumped, half-sat, on the floor of his cell and thought about Everett. Thought about what was going to happen when his friends did show up for him.

How long had he been a prisoner for? Normally he was good at math, but right now his mind was momentarily muddled. It'd been less then a day before he and the wraith had escaped…at least, he thought it was. They'd slept the night in the forest, woken…

It was while he stared longer at Carson that something finally clicked. The meaning of the long, curious looks that kept sliding his way. The few questions Carson had thrown at him during the flight. Outrage took over relief, because as much as Sheppard knew they were happy to have him home, healthy and safe, Sheppard also knew that he was now a medical rarity. "I'm not gonna be your guinea pig." He wanted it said now, out in the open.

He was the first person among the expedition that not only survived being repeatedly fed upon, but was de-aged, fixed, whatever the hell you wanted to call it. He was a living specimen to answer a lot of questions. While he could understand the importance of that, Sheppard also figured that he was just as likely to not be the answer to anything, because what was done, was done. Unless there were by-products in his blood stream still hanging around, the only thing Carson was likely to get for his trouble was a pissed off colonel.

Though they weren't alone in the ship, Sheppard's focus was narrowing. Carson hadn't acknowledged what he'd said yet, except for a slight bunching of eyebrows, so when Rodney spoke next to him, Sheppard almost jerked back, startled by the unexpected noise.

"You're not a guinea pig," Rodney declared, irritated. "Besides…" he raked grim assessing eyes over Sheppard, "You're too thin, and tall…and nowhere near furry enough." Sheppard didn't know whether Rodney was trying to be funny, or if he was being serious, because Rodney wasn't giving anything away in his expression.

He stared past Sheppard and looked at Carson, picking up on the same body language that Sheppard had seen. "Carson! Give him a break, stop practicing your twisted version of science. It's not like the wraith changed his blood into a fountain of youth. It doesn't work that way!" After Rodney made his declaration, he had a moment of doubt, and turned back to Sheppard, the seat squeaking under his legs as he shifted, and asked, "It doesn't, does it?"

"I do not believe Carson is planning on putting the colonel through anything unnecessary." When Teyla said it, she arched and eyebrow at Carson, her body language saying that if Carson had been planning on it, then perhaps he should rethink it. "But, Colonel Sheppard did suffer from repeated feedings."

"Colonel Sheppard is right here." Sheppard raised his hand and waved it, annoyed.

Carson made a face, exhaled loudly, and pushed himself into the aisle. His eyes swept over everyone in the Jumper, including Ronon, sitting hunched in the chair behind Rodney. "Colonel, Teyla said it as well as anyone. You were subjected to repeated feedings. I don't care what you claim, you are not fine. There are tests I have to run, and yes, I will admit, there will be some extra studies…" at the multiple dark looks, Carson pushed his hands against his hips and added thickly, "When you're feeling up to it. But mainly, I need to keep you under observation, Son. I need to make sure your body is coping in the aftermath of the repeated feedings."

It was degenerating into his team trying to protect him from Carson. Sheppard could see it in their stances, their faces, and he hadn't meant for it to go there. He was just…he was fine. How could he put it…he was still in a state of euphoric shock, or something like that.

Sheppard wanted to walk through the halls of Atlantis, show everyone that despite what they might have seen or heard, he was still strong and capable, and in charge. He wasn't aged into a nursing home. He wasn't even aged into the 'buy a convertible and marry a chick half his age.' Though, a convertible would be nice…but, then again, there was always the chance the rejuvenation might wear off, as he acknowledged the fine trembles he felt beginning in his muscles, and that thought scared the crap out of him. Course, it could also just be a case of the post-adrenaline high.

He'd been a step from death.

The problem was the last place he wanted to go was the infirmary -- to be reminded of what'd happened. Sheppard had wanted to do normal things, like brief Weir on Kolya's set up, then sit with his team, talk about…upcoming missions. They knew him well enough to know he wouldn't want to talk about what'd happened to him. It'd be his way of finding himself after something like that.

It was bad enough everyone here had watched as his life had been drained. That fact alone ensured he wasn't going to be allowed to ignore it like he normally would've. There were at least two people who wouldn't let him. He was surprised Heightmeyer hadn't been sent to meet the Jumper.

Seeing how everyone was still staring at him, waiting, Sheppard sighed. "Fine," he acknowledged tightly. What he wanted was going to have to wait. He'd let Carson get his reassurance, and then he'd get out of the infirmary and do the rest of this his way.

When he stood, he felt a vise clamp around his chest. The pain took his breath away, reminding him of how it'd felt during the feeding. For a moment, panic flared, and he held his hands out, afraid he was aging and the reprieve had only been a momentary gift…a trick.

"What's wrong?" demanded Rodney. "Why are you staring at your hands?"

The vise eased, and Sheppard dropped his arms. It wasn't anything. Just some lingering soreness. As hard as he'd tensed up during the feedings, it wasn't a big surprise.

"Nothing," he replied, moving to step past Carson. "Let's get these tests over with."

"Wait a minute," barged Rodney. He was out of the chair and grabbing Sheppard's jacket sleeve before Sheppard had gotten far. "I've let you pretend that nothing happened long enough, and now you're going to escape into the infirmary, and set Carson's watchdogs to keep me away until you're ready to talk about it, but I'm not sure it's exactly healthy to ignore what happened on that planet. You were fed upon, Colonel. Eaten until you were gray, and old, and you are not fine!"

Ronon tensed in his chair, but didn't move, didn't speak up; he just watched.

Sheppard shook off Rodney's hold, stared at his hand as Rodney pulled it back, then followed up the length of Rodney's body till Sheppard met his blunt look. Rodney's blunt, worried, and slightly freaked-out look. "Not now, McKay," Sheppard breathed, steeling his nerves. "I know there are things that need to be said, but all I'm asking, is for a little time."

Even that was saying too much. Bottling it up, keeping things close inside…it was what he did…what he'd always done, but he was trying to open up to these people he considered his friends. Sheppard was trying, but these things, they took time.

"We understand," Teyla said. She stood, and Ronon followed her lead, relaxing and climbing to his feet.

Carson had waited, on edge as well as any of them, but now he moved towards the rear of the Jumper, convinced that he'd gotten what he wanted. The hatch was still open from when the marines had left earlier. Ronon and Teyla followed, and together they angled for the rear of the Jumper. Rodney continued to stare at Sheppard for one more awkward moment, before he too, moved, and Sheppard breathed a sigh of relief that he'd gotten his time.

It was a reprieve, though as Sheppard left the safety and comfort of his cockpit, he knew it was only a temporary one.

OoO

Rodney, Teyla and Ronon left to debrief Elizabeth once Carson had Sheppard firmly in his clutches. The scrubs he'd been told to put on were something he was plucking at now in distaste as he settled onto the gurney and waited for the nurse to come and hook him up. Literally.

EKG, EEG, blood pressure, IV…every goddamn tube and contraption known to man, Sheppard figured.

In the end, he wasn't far from wrong.

The only tube that'd been stuck in him turned out to be an IV. Turns out he was dehydrated. Go figure. Being sucked dry would do that to you, and seeing how the wraith had called it a 'gift of life', how much you wanna bet, there was normally a ritual that ended in something to drink? Unfortunately, he hadn't been in a situation to knock back a glass or two.

The O2 sensor was irritating the heck out of his finger, and the blood pressure thing was going off every fifteen minutes. All in all, he was damn uncomfortable.

Although, at least lying down was taking care of the shakiness he'd felt earlier, and the vise around his chest. The adrenaline…yeah, that was definitely gone. Sheppard had to admit, he was relieved, despite how much he'd rather not be here, that it'd worn off when he was already settled in bed, because it would've sucked to have had his legs go rubbery with an audience.

"So, Colonel," Carson began, but he didn't get far. He didn't know what else to say. The machines were giving him the physical information he needed.

"I'd ask if the cat got your tongue, but I'm guessing it's more that the wraith did," Sheppard joked.

Carson's hands found the rail on Sheppard's gurney, and gripped it, hard. "Is that supposed to be funny, Colonel?"

See, this was the problem with being tortured in front of your friends; there was all this awkward stuff afterwards, if you were lucky enough to live. Which he was. "Look, Doc," Sheppard pushed himself more to his side, and up on his elbow, trying to get more of a one on one look with Carson. The sheets crinkled underneath him. "I'm fine…there's not even the gray hair I found last week. I know it was…" he fished for the right word. God, he sucked at this kind of thing. "…traumatizing, to see something like that--"

"Traumatizing?" exploded Carson. He dropped his hands, stepped back, and stared at Sheppard as if he'd grown a second head.

"Well, I --"

"We're talking about you, not me."

Sheppard shook his head, and settled on his back, biting back the childish ouch when he knocked his hand with the IV needle against the railing. "No, we're not," he stated evenly.

The vise was back, and this time he wasn't sure if it was all physical. Either way, something beeped a little faster, a little harder, and Carson's agonized emotional response dropped away, and the doctor mask resumed. He leaned over to look at the read out, frowned, and pulled back. "Did that hurt? Did you feel that?"

Sheppard wondered if this was a trick question. "I heard it." He went for the obvious. Not admitting anything, but not pretending he wasn't completely ignorant of what'd just happened.

"You suffered from a momentary arrhythmia, Colonel. This is serious. Did you have any chest pain during that episode? Has this happened before?"

The memory of the vise in the jumper danced forward. Before he could confirm or deny anything, Carson read him easy enough. "Colonel, I realize the psychological effects of what you've been through most likely preclude common sense from the forefront, but this falls under things I need to know, am I clear?"

"Crystal, Doc," Sheppard grudgingly admitted.

He wasn't intentionally trying to hide anything, it was just…well, okay, maybe Carson had pegged it right enough. Mentally, he wasn't exactly in the common sense field right now. He was in the 'holy fuck, I was drained to a hair's breadth of death, returned to normalcy, then let one of the enemy go instead of blasting them away like I should've' field. Except, the wraith hadn't been the enemy, the Genii had been. Kolya, and his goons…humans. It's always nice to start your week off with a moral complexity.

Whatever field he was in, Sheppard knew one thing. It'd suck to have gone through all of that, and die now. "How serious is this?"

Carson was pulling out his diagnostic scanner, and ordering a nurse to draw more blood. In the middle of that, he paused to answer, "I'm afraid I can't answer that, Colonel." At Sheppard's irritated face, Carson made one in return. "I could lie to you, if you'd like?"

"Knock yourself out." Truth was overrated.

"It's probably nothing," Carson assured him.

"That's the best you could do?"

Carson grimaced at the read out, ordered the nurse to add a medication with a name Sheppard didn't catch. "Get some rest, Colonel. I'll know more later," he said, tucking his stethoscope into a pocket. He took another look at the EKG and seemed satisfied. He pulled the curtain around Sheppard's bed and ducked out, leaving Sheppard alone.

OoO

Rodney straightened his shirt, stared in the mirror. The debriefing with Elizabeth had been mercifully short, although that probably had to do with his terse statement of, "We found Sheppard, and the wraith. In typical Sheppard fashion, he made the life-sucking vampire into a friend, who then returned his life to him. We left the wraith on the outpost where the herb was harvested…wraith infested, so the thing would be rescued. Any questions?"

She'd opened her mouth to ask a million other things when Rodney had barreled over her with a, "No? Good. I'm going to get changed and head to the infirmary."

He knew he'd left her bemused, but figured Ronon and Teyla could answer anything pressing. Not that there was anything. Really, his statement had summed it up plainly. They'd found Sheppard, restored to his normal youthful self, and aside from the fact that he'd made a friend out of a wraith, nothing was any different.

Except everything was.

Rodney's reflection winced.

Ambushed. He and Teyla had gone through the gate, and after Ronon had fallen through, they'd waited. When it'd shut down, the three of them had shared a panicked look. Ronon had growled, and spun towards the controls, shouting, "He was right next to me!"

Teyla had looked at Rodney. He'd seen the worry in her eyes as she'd asked, "The Stargate would not shut down with him still in it?"

"No," Rodney had said, his voice dreadful, because he knew the most likely answer to the puzzle was that Sheppard had been prevented from crossing into the event horizon, which meant he was probably in the hands of whomever had been shooting at them. Alive, dead?

He'd hated the feeling of knowing he'd left Sheppard, again. Gone through the gate, per Sheppard's orders, only to get on the other side and not have him show up. Twice, in less than two months.

He'd stormed the stairs, snapped for Elizabeth to send an immediate rescue team, but by the time they'd gated back, there'd been nothing. No Sheppard, no enemies shooting at them, nothing but the silence of an empty world. And why should he have thought it'd be anything different?

When the transmission had come from Kolya, he'd known. He'd had that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, the one he now hated more than anything. When Kolya had stepped aside, and he'd seen Sheppard strapped to the chair, gagged, he'd demanded, "What have you done to him?" without even thinking. It was just…the panic at seeing Sheppard like that.

It was Sheppard.

He was the hero, the rescuer, the one that kept Rodney safe from people like Kolya…and now Sheppard had been captured. Rodney had his own personal experience of Kolya's coldness. How one person could be completely emotionless as he ordered the torture of another...

Absently, Rodney ran a finger along the scar on his forearm. Small, thin and white, barely there.

Seeing Sheppard like that, vulnerable and helpless, knowing what Kolya was capable of…it'd scared Rodney in places he hadn't really known he had. When the wraith was brought in, Rodney had found out, those places were going to be sticking around for a while.

"You were fed on," Rodney said to his reflection. "He tortured you in front of us. You can't just ignore it like nothing happened." His face crumpled just a little. "I can't ignore it." His stupid eyes went glassy in the mirror, and Rodney inhaled deeply and turned away, pissed at himself. "That's why I'm talking to myself, brilliant."

It wasn't like he was going to get Sheppard to talk to him about it. Personal relationships weren't exactly his strengths. It wasn't even as if Rodney knew what the hell to say. "I'm sorry you went through that, I'm sure you'll have nightmares, and maybe you need to see Kate, and I swear, I am never again going through the gate without you firmly attached to me, ever."

Yeah, that'd go over well.

"And I hate Kolya," Rodney added savagely.

OoO

"Kolya got away," Ronon said.

McKay had left, leaving them to finish answering questions. Not that Ronon could blame McKay. He would've left too, but Teyla had fixed one of those, "Don't even think about it," looks on him, and he'd settled back into the chair, resigned.

At that news, Weir's face hardened. "He did, did he? I don't assume it was an oversight on your part?"

Ronon shook his head like a lazy lion. "No, he slipped to the 'gate while we went for Sheppard."

"I believe we should be extremely careful. As long as he is out there, our people are at risk."

Teyla didn't single out names. Sheppard. Maybe not just him, McKay…one thing was for sure, Ronon didn't imagine this Kolya liked losing, and it sounded like it'd happened one too many times. He'd be out there, waiting. This wasn't over.

"How is Colonel Sheppard?"

"He appears to be fine," Teyla answered Weir's question before Ronon could. "Rodney was right—the colonel and the wraith appear to have…bonded, in some way, and in return for John's help in escaping, the wraith returned his life."

"And you had no idea this was possible?"

Teyla shook her head. "No, I did not. I have never heard of such a thing."

When Weir looked over at Ronon, he shrugged. "Me either."

They'd been prepared to find a Sheppard aged to the point of infirmity, and instead, when Ronon had flung the wraith off of Sheppard, he'd been face to face with the features he knew well enough; the dark brown hair, the face, unlined and smooth. The bolt of relief he'd felt was one he'd smothered fast enough.

Ronon had been accusatory when Sheppard had only stunned the wraith instead of killing it, but as much as his hatred of the wraith went soul deep, he wasn't going to begrudge this one being set free. It'd returned Sheppard to normal, and Sheppard had explained to him what 'all bets are off' meant en route to Atlantis. What it'd done for Sheppard had earned the wraith a temporary reprieve. Sheppard's life was worth it.

"Okay," Weir said. She pushed away from the table, standing. "It's been a long day. I would say get some rest, but I assume we are all soon to wind up in the same place, so instead I will save Carson the time and suggest you both get something to eat before descending on the infirmary."

Teyla stood, and Ronon followed. She smiled at Weir and tilted her head slightly. "We will. He is fine, Elizabeth. The colonel would appear to have what he calls 'a good luck charm.'

"He has something," Weir agreed, stepping through the doors ahead of Ronon. "Let's just hope it never wears off."

OoO

The shackles were cold against his wrists, the chair, insidiously soft against his back. Sheppard had been here before, and he knew where the fear was coming from. Not again, not again, not again…the mantra ran in his mind. The pain, indescribable, the fact that he wasn't even allowed the right to scream through it…maybe that was a good thing.

"Don't do this," he pleaded with Kolya. He knew what was coming, and he didn't want to be fed on. Didn't want the pain, didn't want to get aged again…

…again? Dreaming. He was dreaming. Oh, damn, just wake up, John, and you'll be back in the infirmary, and not strapped to the chair waiting for it all to happen again.

Sheppard's eyes snapped open, the rapid beeping making the squeezing in his chest intensify. The curtain was pulled back, and Carson hurried in, followed by a nurse.

"Colonel?" Carson looked at the EKG output, then at Sheppard. "What happened?"

What'd happened? His mouth crooked in a moment of irony. What hadn't happened in the last twenty-four hours was probably a better question.

Sheppard looked sideways at the monitor that'd tattled on him. "Bad dream," he admitted, by-passing the heavier stuff. It wasn't like he could claim nothing was wrong, and he wasn't all that interested in trying. He had to face it, he knew that. There wasn't any hiding from what he'd gone through. Nightmares weren't a surprise, and they'd probably be an unwelcome guest for a while. Still, nightmares didn't usually set off the EKG monitor this bad…

Carson nodded with understanding, and frowned at the information on the display. "I can give you something to help you sleep," he offered.

Sheppard was tempted, but then again, later would be better. When he was in his quarters, and alone, because that was when it was likely to hit him the hardest. He'd been going on pure drive and determination to stay alive from the moment he'd been yanked back by those damn harpoons. Everything he'd done had been reacting to the situation. Staying alive, trying to escape, doing what he'd had to do…there hadn't been a whole lot of time since he'd been rescued to sit and think about what'd happened to him.

The only time he'd had back on the planet was when he and the wraith had spent the night in the forest, and his thoughts at the time had focused more on hoping the wraith hadn't changed his mind about their temporary alliance, and hoping the Genii wouldn't find them during the night. Or ever, for that matter.

The fact was that the Genii had found them, that the wraith had drained him so far that Sheppard still wasn't sure how he'd lived, and then after beating the soldiers, the wraith had given it all back. Everything he'd taken. Left Sheppard alive, if not more than a little shaken.

"Colonel?"

"How 'bout a rain check, Doc?"

Carson considered him thoughtfully, his prolonged stare making Sheppard feel every subtle cue he might be giving off, but then Carson nodded, distracted by more unhappy beeping from the machine.

The tightness in his chest was enough that Sheppard winced. Whatever was going on, it was serious enough that Carson abruptly ducked out past the curtain, shouted for nurses and a crash cart, then he was back, and lowering the head of Sheppard's gurney. "Doc?" he rasped. It hurt like hell, and when you mix in that he didn't know what was going on, the combination was slightly less then fun.

With a gentle flash of a smile, Carson tried to reassure Sheppard. "I'm afraid the trauma your body's dealt with is catching up. You'll be okay, but until your heart decides to recover, we're going to have to help it along."

"Help it how?"

The nurse was back, pulling a small cart along with her. Sheppard's eyes shifted uneasily to it, craning his neck off the pillow to better see what was going on. There was the defibrillator, and something else alongside it, and it was the smaller device that the nurse lifted and held out for Carson. He took it, and placed it on Sheppard's lap, mid-thigh. "A temporary pacemaker, Colonel. Just to give your heart the help it needs to recover."

Carson began placing the pads over Sheppard's chest and attaching wires. "This is a temporary of a temporary, I'm afraid. Once this is up and running, we'll get you prepped for surgery and install a more permanent temporary pacemaker."

"Permanent temporary?" echoed Sheppard, staring up at the muted lights in the ceiling, feeling a little worried.

"This," Carson said, pointing at the device, "is just to keep you stable. It's an emergency pacemaker that can be attached for short-term use, like now. In regular temporary pacemakers, the units are wired a little differently."

Sheppard figured none of it sounded like things were going good for him, but before he could make that point, Carson was continuing on, "The difference between a temporary and a permanent is that the former is external, the latter, internal. The external one meant for longer term use will still have the main unit outside of your body, but there'll be thin wires that will run through a small incision just about here…" Carson drew an imaginary line across Sheppard's chest, small and innocuous, but all the same, he was getting a little freaked out now.

Sheppard could feel that something was wrong. Besides the tightness, it felt like his heart was beating too fast, and too hard, skipping beats.

Carson and the nurse got him hooked up quickly. The wires were attached to the pads on his chest, and then to the machine still resting on his legs, which was then turned on. It was quiet as Carson watched the monitors, occasionally turning back to study Sheppard with a critical look. It took a minute, or two, but then the tightness eased, and his heart began to slow.

"There we are," sighed Carson. He handed the nurse Sheppard's chart and ordered, "Get Doctor Biro. I don't want to have an emergency come in while I'm in surgery."

Surgery, pacemakers… "Woah, can we back up a minute here?"

Sheppard was still lying flat on his back, and he was feeling more than a little vulnerable. Things were moving too fast, and none of his team were here to field the situation and watch his back, so to speak.

Carson wheeled the cart with the EKG machine close to Sheppard's bed, lifted the unit and placed it between Sheppard's legs, near the bottom of the gurney. He then pulled the privacy curtain all the way around, until it was wide open to everything around him. Then Carson was back by his side, lifting the railing to his gurney and stepping to the side as the nurse removed the saline bolus from the IV stand and slipped it onto the hook she had pulled up from behind his head.

As Carson unlocked the wheels and began to pull the bed backward, the nurse pushed from behind his head, and Carson began to explain as Sheppard's view began to move, "The feeding process places a tremendous shock on the body's system. You're heart is experiencing an inability to regulate its electrical firing…think of it as a temporarily short-circuited automatic timer. If I'm right, and I'm confident I am, all your body needs is time to recover. That's what the pacemaker is for."

The entire time Carson was explaining, he and the nurse continued to steer Sheppard into the OR. He'd been here a few times before, and wasn't exactly happy to be back, but at least this time he was going in fully conscious, which was always a novel idea. It'd happened once or twice, but mostly, he just woke up in the infirmary after whatever trauma, usually wondering what the hell had happened.

"So, my heart's just bitching because of the wraith's feeding. Why wasn't the 'gift of life' enough to keep it from doing that?"

He really hated trying to get answers while he was flat on his back.

"Colonel, as of…" Carson looked at his watch, twisting his wrist but leaving his hand on the gurney, "…two hours ago, I had no idea the wraith could even restore life. I'm afraid I know only slightly more than you. Now, as you like to say, 'buck up,' we'll have you sorted out soon enough, I promise. Anyone else, and I'd hesitate to promise anything, but you've proven to be inordinately resilient…a trait I'm thankful for."

People were moving around his bed, getting things ready, and Carson was delivering orders. The anesthesiologist arrived and leaned over Sheppard, a mask all ready covering his face.

"Hello, Colonel," he greeted Sheppard with a warm, muffled voice. "I realize this is the last place you'd like to be, but I promise we'll take good care of you. Now, you know the routine --"

Sheppard craned his neck to look around, saw the man inject a drug into his IV port, and sighed. "Ten," he started the countdown, because unfortunately he did 'know the routine'. "Nine…eight…"

OoO

Two hours, ten minutes and twenty-six seconds. That was how long he'd let Sheppard out of his sight, and yet, he'd managed to get into trouble. In the infirmary. On Atlantis. What the fuck?

"Doctor McKay, if you would just have a seat in the waiting area, the procedure is relatively short." The nurse looked over towards the door leading into the operating/recovery room. "In fact," she murmured, starting towards the room in question. "I'd imagine Colonel Sheppard is already in recovery."

She hadn't given him a direct order not to follow, so Rodney stepped up behind her, and walked through, into the recovery area. Sure enough, Carson was making some notes on his tablet PC, still dressed in his surgical scrubs. He looked up, smiled at the nurse, then noticed Rodney behind her, at which point his features twisted into the heavy annoyance Carson always seemed to wear when Rodney was in the infirmary and wasn't fatally injured…which, practically every injury could be fatal in this galaxy, and just because Rodney wasn't taking chances with even so much as a splinter –

"Rodney! You can't be in here," Carson berated, handing the tablet to another nurse.

The one he'd followed in, the slim blonde that he was pretty sure had a thing for Sheppard, turned and got this 'oh' look, then she scowled at him, and told Carson, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize he followed me in. I'll escort him back --"

"No, you won't," insisted Rodney. He stepped further in the room, as if to make a point…the point that he wasn't leaving. "Carson, you were supposed to monitor Sheppard, not autopsy him!"

"Out, Rodney, right now." Carson's finger pointed over Rodney's shoulder and directly at the door. Which was precisely why he moved in the opposite direction, towards his original goal. That would be Sheppard, by the way. The man lying on his back, completely still, and if it weren't for the monitors reporting his heart rate, and general status, Rodney would wonder if his crack about the autopsy wasn't far from the truth.

Aware that he wasn't dressed in scrubs, he hadn't even washed his hands since he'd left his quarters, Rodney didn't touch Sheppard, and anyway, he was also aware of the audience. The nurse had settled into frowning, but didn't move to drag him out. Carson had dropped his finger, and his face had softened, and when Rodney looked from Sheppard's slack features to Carson, he sighed and offered grudgingly, "Fine Rodney, five minutes, but no more. He'll be awake soon enough and then you can keep him company as long as you like."

"What happened?"

Carson pointed at the machine resting beside Sheppard's bed. Thin wires ran from it, to Sheppard's chest, and disappeared underneath a bandage. "Do you remember I said that in many cases, survivors die after a feeding?"

Die? Death? Rodney felt his palms begin to sweat. "No, I mean, yes, I remember that, but he's not dying…look at him! Seriously, I think that wraith gave him some extra years, which is completely unfair because now he can make grandpa jokes at my expense. How can he be dying?"

A nurse, or technician, or someone that Rodney felt he should probably recognize considering his own amount of time as a patient, checked Sheppard's vitals on the display by his bed, then took the tablet from the nurse, entered something that Rodney couldn't see, and turned to them. "Carson, Colonel Sheppard should be waking soon. I'm going to run and get a bite to eat. You want anything while I'm there?"

"Thanks, Kevin. I'll take a sandwich, roast beef if they've got one."

"No problem."

After Kevin left the room, the nurses dwindled to just the one blonde, and Carson pulled up a chair and sat, leaning his head back against the wall. "He's not dying, Rodney. His body is having some reaction to the process, which is not unexpected. Just because his life was restored, does not make the process any less physically traumatic."

"What kind of reaction?" Rodney searched for another chair, purposefully ignoring the five-minute rule Carson had set. Course, he didn't find one, so he stayed next to Sheppard's side, and split his attention between Carson and the sleepy Sheppard that seemed to be stirring a little in the bed.

"Tachycardia, arrhythmia…his heart's electrical system is temporarily in a snit."

"So you cut him open? That helps how?"

Sheppard made a snuffling sound, and turned his head slightly on the pillow.

"I had to connect him to a temporary pacemaker, Rodney." Carson cracked his tired eyes at the sounds coming from the bed. "A few days rest, give his body time to recover, and he should be fine."

Rodney shifted his feet, thinking he wanted the chair that Carson was in. He hated standing over people like this. Still, it gave him a good view. Sheppard's leg twitched, and shifted underneath the thin sheet that was pulled up to just below Sheppard's chest. His eyes partially opened, before closing again.

"Why didn't you just err on the safe side and put in a permanent?" Really, was medical science that far behind that the obvious conclusion to be 'safe than sorry' was by-passed for an unwarranted belief that Sheppard would be 'fine' in a few days? The last thing Rodney wanted was to have Sheppard suffer a heart attack while mid-flight on some alien planet.

"Nnnnn, mmmm…"

Sheppard's incomprehensible mumbling made Rodney smile, but he erased it once he realized Carson and the blonde were watching him with matching smug looks. So what, he happened to like Sheppard. There wasn't anything wrong with that. Sheppard was the only one on Atlantis that actually understood him…possibly in his entire life. Which was bizarre if you considered the fact that Sheppard, at least on the surface, was nothing more than a flyboy with irritating hair.

"You just want some excuse to tease him." Carson stretched up from the chair, and leaned over Sheppard, checking his cognitive status. Impaired, is what Rodney would call it, as Sheppard made more mumbling noises and tilted his head back on his pillow – staring at what? The pretty lights?

"I can get you some Depends, Sheppard. Would you like a wooden cane and a rocking chair? I can zap it into arrhythmia so stop annoying me…" Carson mimicked Rodney's fast speech and inflected an irritable edge to it that Rodney would swear was completely over the top.

"That is not fair," Rodney denied quickly. Too quickly. It wasn't like Sheppard didn't do worse. Geez. And so long as he knew Sheppard was okay, a little poking at one another was their way of showing how much they cared.

Carson only shot him a skeptical look before he shook Sheppard's shoulder gently. "Colonel? Can you open your eyes for me, Son?"

Kevin poked his head in, saw Rodney and Carson focused on the slightly conscious figure, and called, "When you're ready, Carson, they had roast beef."

"I'll be right there."

He prodded Sheppard for another moment, got another slightly clearer, "Mphphfff," before he told the nurse to go ahead and move Sheppard to his regular spot in the infirmary. "I'm sure Rodney will help you push him there."

Rodney would, but it would've been nice to have been asked. Still, he let Carson escape, and he waited while the nurse finished prepping Sheppard's bed to be moved. When she was ready, she nodded to him, and they began to steer his gurney out through the double door exit on the other side of the room.

"Uh, not to be rude, but…" Rodney really wanted to stop referring to her as 'that blonde nurse.' Then again, he probably would forget it until next time. "What's your name again?"

"Maarrrrlllnnnn," mumbled a sleepy Sheppard.

Rodney looked down at him, seeing the eyes barely slitted open. "Go back to sleep until you can speak intelligibly, Colonel."

"Marilyn," the nurse clarified. "And stop being rude to him. He's drugged."

"Rude is what we do to each other. You should know that by now."

The nurse shoved her end of the gurney a little harder than necessary, and Rodney stumbled out of the way as she guided it into its position in the main bay of the infirmary. Rodney stared at Sheppard's uniform, folded up, his dusty boots tucked under a chair.

Marilyn was saccharine sweetness as she said, "Then you wait and do it when I'm not around. Now play nice, Doctor McKay, or you might find your courtesy coffee swapped for decaf."

"You wouldn't."

She locked the wheels in place, checked that his rails were still secured, and beamed pleasantly.

Rodney might have done something he'd regret later, but Teyla, Ronon and Elizabeth chose that moment to walk in and join the party. He was momentarily annoyed that once again, Sheppard had managed to avoid their 'talk'. The one in which he was planning on informing Sheppard that from now on, Rodney was not going through the gate unless Sheppard was practically holding his God damn hand, because if he lost Sheppard just one more time, Rodney was certain there'd be some serious mental repercussions.

Speaking of which, he flipped his wrist and realized, "Oh, I'm late." With a quick wave at the others and a hurried promise, "I'll be back in an hour," to which Sheppard grunted and smacked his lips, Rodney rushed from the infirmary. Let Carson deal with explaining it all over again to the others, right now, he had an appointment.

OoO

Elizabeth only left Sheppard's side after staring long enough to thoroughly believe he had been returned to normal. Ronon and Teyla had peppered the nurse for an explanation, but Elizabeth only vaguely caught words like 'pacemaker' and 'arrhythmia.' She was concerned, but first and foremost, she needed to see the proof of his existence in front of her.

Saying no to Kolya had been the hardest thing she'd ever done.

Kate was going to be busy for the next few weeks. Elizabeth's appointment was after Rodney's, though she wouldn't tell Rodney she'd known where he was off to. If she'd had it her way, none of them would've been subjected to the video feed, but the first time no one had been prepared for what had happened. The second time it'd just been her, Ladon, and the gate room crew. The others hadn't returned from the failed rescue mission. The third…the final time for them, they'd all been there. They'd all wanted to be there. Sometimes the imagination was worse. Sometimes, it wasn't.

Carson was sitting at his desk, eating lunch while discussing shoptalk with the other doctor, the anesthesiologist, Kevin Wind Walker. When he saw her in the doorway, Carson waved her in. "Elizabeth, you've seen Colonel Sheppard, I take it?"

"I have," she said. There was another chair to Kevin's right, and she took it. "I take it there was a complication?"

"You know the colonel, Doctor." Kevin's smile was wry as he sipped the soda. "Let's just hope this is the only 'complication.'"

She settled lower into the chair, relaxing into the softness. It'd been a while since she'd relaxed…since the three of Sheppard's team had emerged from the 'gate, and it'd shut down without Sheppard. "I still can't believe it…"

"I know, it's nothing short of a bloody miracle, that's what it is." Carson's computer uttered a soft beep, and he wiped his hands quickly on a napkin before sliding his fingers along the keyboard.

"Test results in?" asked Kevin, staring curiously over the bag of chips in his hand. They weren't really potato chips, but a version the cooks had made do out of a vegetable that they'd traded for a month ago. There'd been a surplus so instead of tossing out rotting produce, they'd devised a way of baking them in slices and preserving them.

The only difference, the taste was more fruity then starchy.

"Yes," Carson murmured, scanning. "And good news…everything looks normal. His electrolytes are a little off, but nothing too drastic. That's probably the result of the dehydration."

"Carson…" Elizabeth liked medical information kept simple.

"He's going to be fine, Elizabeth. The physiological trauma has caused some problems with his heart, that's where the pacemaker comes in. In a few days I'll remove it, and place him on a Holter monitor to ensure that he remains stable. A day or two of that, and if the results are normal, he should be back on active duty…" Carson paused, and they shared a long look, before he added, "Pending a psychological evaluation."

"And who else is going to have one of these evaluations before being signed off for duty?"

"Pardon?" Elizabeth looked away from Carson and found Kevin watching her, his features inscrutable.

"Colonel Sheppard wasn't the only one affected, Doctor Weir. Rumor has it that his torture was witnessed by yourself, Doctor McKay, Ronon, Teyla and Carson," at the mention of Carson's name, Kevin inclined his head towards him. "I'm sorry, but I think it's being a little prejudiced to believe the only one in need of a psychological evaluation is the colonel. This was a wide-spread trauma. You can't tell me that you won't be having nightmares yourself."

"We weren't the ones tortured, Kevin." Her tone was icy. She didn't bother to admit that she did have plans to see Heightmeyer, and Rodney all ready was. As for the others that had witnessed Sheppard's torture, Elizabeth wasn't entirely sure she had the right to place those demands on them.

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards, and he shook his head. As he balled up the trash from his lunch and stood, he said, "No, but you were the one that effectively ensured it continued, and no one fought to change your mind." He tossed the wrappers in the garbage can. "If you need me, Carson, I'll be working on that inventory."

TBC