"How long has he been like that?" Elizabeth asked as she came to stand beside Teyla in the infirmary. Upon entering, she had been surprised to find her standing so far away from Sheppard, but now she could see why.

Sheppard had one hand on the railing, his head resting on top of it; his other hand was clutching his stomach. He was lying in a protective tight ball and was staring down at the floor, unblinking, pale and sighing every now and again in slow aching breaths.

"Since I got here. He won't talk," Teyla informed her quietly. "Have you heard from Ronon?"

"No," said Elizabeth. He'd been gone for two hours now.

"I wish I could have gone with him," Teyla said.

"I know, but Ronon knows what he's doing. At least, I hope he does."

Sheppard blinked, rocked slightly, and then resumed his catatonic stare.

"I do not understand why this has happened," said Teyla.

"He has too much of the enzyme in his body for it to be able to cope. As soon as Beckett can give him some of the enzyme and wean him off it…"she paused, "He'll…. be fine." She was trying to convince herself of that fact but watching him now, she wasn't so sure. She had never seen him look so damaged before and she suspected it was down to feeling unwell and again incapacitated.

"Perhaps you will have more luck getting him to speak," said Teyla and she left with a glance back over her shoulder.

Elizabeth approached Sheppard's bed slowly and hesitantly. She pulled a stool over to the bed and sat down, folding her arms across her chest, and trying to think of something to say. "Hey," she settled on.

He blinked, but continued to stare at a distant point on the floor.

"Ronon will be back soon," she said encouragingly.

He licked his lips and closed his eyes briefly.

"Now come on John. Usually I can't shut you up," she smiled and reached forward to touch his hand. He retracted it from the railing and moved back onto the pillow.

"You can't keep this silent treatment up forever. If you'd just talk-"

"You shouldn't have let Ronon go," he said in a flat voice devoid of emotion.

"I thought you might be angry about that," she nodded, "But I made a judgement call."
"It was a bad one," he stated holding onto his stomach.

"If he's successful-"
"If," he repeated, "If, he's not caught by a wraith and fed on." He finally met her eyes.

"John, we're all worried about you and we want to help. This was the only way I could think to do it."

Sheppard twisted under the covers, his face contorting into an expression of pain. He managed to get it under control and focus past it to speak, "Can you just leave me alone," he said quietly.

Elizabeth stood up, straightened her top, and nodded, "Kate will be in later to speak to you."

"I don't want to talk to Kate," he said.

"You're going to have to."

"I don't have to do anything." He clasped his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. He looked defeated and utterly vulnerable and it convinced her that she had made the right decision. That was, if Ronon returned in one piece.

----------------------------

The IDC was confirmed, the shield was swiftly disabled and Ronon walked through the gate with a wraith dangling over his shoulders. Its arms were hanging limply behind his back, its head was lolled to one side and black blood dripped to the floor as the gate shut down behind him.

He acknowledged the gate room staff and proceeded towards the infirmary with a company of men watching his back.

He was dirty, smeared with blood and sweat and he had a cut above his eye that would need cleaning but he had completed his task and now they could help Sheppard.

---------------------------

Sheppard felt detached from reality and it was surprisingly comforting. He wanted to hide and face his pain alone without having to deal with the scrutiny of his friends. It was bad enough that they had had to watch his torture and ultimate humiliation; he didn't want them to watch him in this state. Beckett had told him that he had had another delusional episode and he could barely remember it. Apparently, he'd been so out of it that he had thrown up all over himself in front of Elizabeth and Rodney and then non succinctly told them all to go away. He was glad he couldn't remember it, that way he could feign ignorance if anyone bought it up.

Even though he had been aware of people coming and going all day he had been too focused on the intense aches shooting up the length of his body that he had been unable to ground his words out. It was only when Elizabeth came to talk to him that his frustration and anger had boiled to the surface. He was feeling guilty; he'd have to apologise at some point but not right now. He figured his debilitating illness meant he could have a welcome respite.

He looked up as somebody pulled his privacy curtain around his bed and then he listened to collective and hurried voices as they passed. He thought he heard Ronon and sat up slowly to try and peer through the curtain.

He heard a door close shut and the voices were cut off.

Curiosity piqued he pushed the covers aside with shaking hands and hooked his legs over the edge of the bed. When his feet had touched the floor, his weakened muscles protested, but after a brief sway he grabbed the I.V pole and began the tentative process of walking.

He pushed the curtain aside and saw that the door at the other end of the infirmary had been sealed shut.

He padded across the floor slowly, taking steadying breathes as he moved and arrived at the door.

-----------------------------

"Where do you want him Doc?" Ronon asked.

"Just over here," said Beckett.

Ronon dropped the dead wraith down onto the waiting gurney and gave it a look of disgust.

"I'm going to need to look at that cut." Beckett glanced back at the door apprehensively.

"You nervous?"

"I don't like having this thing here."

"I'll leave some men with you."

"Not because of me," he said as he snapped some latex gloves on, "Because of the Colonel."

"Last I heard, he was pretty out of it." He rolled his weary shoulders.

Beckett nodded, "Aye, he was." He leant against the bed and looked the wraith up and down. The knot in his gut tightened and he reached for a scalpel. "I need to get this enzyme out and refine it before I can administer it to the Colonel. I'm not entirely sure what dose to-" His words were cut off when he heard the door behind him slide open.

------------------------------

Sheppard palmed the door open and leant against the doorframe as Beckett and Ronon stood in front of the gurney to block his view of whatever was lying on it. He could tell what it was instantly and shuffled into the room.

"Colonel," Beckett's voice cracked and he looked up at Ronon guiltily.

"You made it back alive then?" Sheppard asked Ronon with a fixed stare.

"You should be in bed, come on lets get you-"

"That it?" Sheppard said trying to look between them.

"I'm not so sure it's a good idea that-"

Sheppard cut him off again, "What's wrong Carson? I've seen a wraith before." He walked forward and they moved aside. He swallowed thickly and stood at the side of the bed, looking the wraith up and down.

"Colonel, you should really-"

"-Get back into bed?" Sheppard stated flatly without looking over at the Doctor, "What's wrong? You scared I'm going to freak out or something?" Now he met his eyes and Beckett looked nervous as hell. Uncomfortable even.

"I need to get to work and you need to rest up."

"I'd listen to him," Ronon offered and touched Sheppard's shoulder.

He flinched and took an exaggerated step back, "I can get back to my bed by myself," he informed them coldly. But, he didn't move; his eyes were drawn to the wraith. They settled on its outstretched hand.

He could feel his heart rate increasing and the sweat breaking out across his forehead as memories were plucked out of his consciousness. Memories he had tried to bury deep to protect himself. He felt a pain in his chest, could feel his energy ebbing away, his vision blurring at the edges.

A hand to his wrist had him reeling backwards, towards the door and out of the room.

"Colonel." Beckett warned.

"Carson," Sheppard snapped as he reached out for something to steady himself.

His hands found air and he stumbled over to one of the medical cabinets for purchase. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out against sudden nausea. He just needed to get his breath back and then he'd get back to his bed. But, he wanted to do it alone.

"As soon as I have extracted the enzyme, I'll get it out of here," Beckett assured him.

"Fine, whatever," Sheppard said as he held up a hand to ward them off.

"You need to get back to bed."

"I need to just collect myself." He opened his eyes, "I'm not going to…" His hands were shaking and he couldn't stop them.

"You can't pretend this isn't affecting you," Ronon said.

"How do you know," Sheppard managed to wrestle out of his throat. The pain in his chest was increasing with the resurfacing memories.

The hand clamping down onto his chest. His breath being stolen in one painful exhalation. Stars had danced in his eyes, Kolya's face had been blurry shape in his vision as he had tried to breath, tried to choke out a scream.

"John," Beckett touched his shoulder and he reacted instantly. He pushed him away and staggered backwards a step, the I.V pole clattering to the floor nosily.

"One god damn minute," he shouted, "Just one minute and I'll get back into bed." The force of his words notched up his adrenaline, giving him new fuel to stand straighter, and as it coursed through his body like a much needed drug, he realised the brutal extent of his anger. Anger for being humiliated in front of his friends. Anger at Kolya for saying that it hadn't been personal. Anger for that wraith feeding on him. Anger for letting that same wraith go.

"Sheppard," Ronon's voice was low and warning but it hardly registered.

Sheppard saw red, felt his muscles twitch and he opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came out. He couldn't express his anger verbally. He clenched his hands into fists.

"I'm going to give you something to help you sleep," said Beckett. His voice was reassuring and it wasn't what Sheppard needed. He needed a reason to lash out. He didn't want their suffocating sympathy.

"You could have been captured," Sheppard said and he looked straight at Ronon.

"I wasn't," Ronon said.

"But….." he looked down at the floor and breathed in raggedly, "Pain," he looked down at his hand to see that his I.V had been ripped from his hand. A small rivulet of blood had worked its way down to his knuckle, "I'm going to kill that son of a bitch."

"He's delusional again," Beckett told Ronon as if he wasn't there.

Sheppard looked between the two men, shifting his attention in quick succession back to the floor, "I'm not delusional. I'm thinking straight. I'm going to kill him."

"We both will," Ronon offered.

"No," Sheppard said slowly, "I'm going to do it. He's mine."

Beckett was advancing on him as if he were a cornered animal. He could see the syringe in his hand glinting in the light.

"You're not going to give that to me," Sheppard said.

"I think it will do you some good," said Beckett, "You need to rest."

"Stop telling me what I need to do," his hands were clenched again, "I don't want to sleep. I just wake up in a cold sweat anyway, just let me-" he bent over and gripped his stomach. Nausea, pain and breathlessness all colliding in one crippling assault to his system.

"Colonel."

"Dammit!" He stood straight, twisted and slammed his fist into the nearest glass cabinet. The glass shattered and skittered across the floor at his feet. His fist hurt, his knuckles were glistening with blood, and his shoulder felt bruised and wrenched from the action but this pain was good.

He looked up to see Beckett standing open mouthed, Ronon had taken a step forward and when he turned his heart sank. Heightmeyer and Elizabeth were stood at the other end of the infirmary both wearing shocked expressions.

He licked his lips, sighed dejectedly, and started towards the bed, "I feel better now." He flexed his hand. "I'll lie back down."

TBC