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CHAPTER 2

Three Weeks Ago

"Carson, I need a team in the Gate Room NOW!" Elizabeth raced down the stairs towards the nearly crashed dart below her. It had been nearly two months, but finally John was home. The frantic searching, the worrying and waiting up nights had finally come to an end with the dramatic arrival of the ship and the authentication of Colonel Shepherd's IDC. Rodney was there before her, pulling at the doors and demanding help to get John out. Liz couldn't even get close, there was so much wreckage, but it didn't matter. John was home.

Time seemed to slow down as McKay and Lorne pushed and pulled at the Colonel, but finally they succeeded in getting him free and placing him on the floor for Carson. As Elizabeth took his hand, she noted that he was covered in cuts, bruises and burns (now that was new). His hands looked like someone had been trying to break his fingers, and despite herself she winced. But he was alive, and that was all that mattered. She told him so, whispered it, making sure to keep her voice soft and even, since he was probably going into shock, if he wasn't there already. So she kept her voice sensible and soothing, though she felt neither sensible nor soothed. She had to help John.

Slowly he opened his eyes, looking up at her, and despite herself Elizabeth beamed. And then he turned away, and she saw desperation seize his face. He began, faintly, to struggle, and if Carson hadn't arrived with a sedative at that very second she felt certain he would have injured himself. Before he was taken away, he'd looked her straight in the face, raised his head as far as he could to do it.

"You're not her. I know you're not." And then he'd spit in her face.

Time had no meaning anymore, now that it had been reduced to comfort and terrifying, numbing ease. John knew what was out there, could draw it perfectly in his mind's eye: the beautiful, sleek precision that imprisoned him. But his eyes would not open. They were turned in.

His days of looking out were over. There was nothing out there but pain and destruction and hurt.

And yet, to see the world again…

God John wished he could open his eyes.

Two Weeks Later

"Do you have any idea what happened to him on the Hive ship?" Elizabeth stapled her fingers and looked over them at Carson, inwardly steeling herself. It was never easy to hear the details of someone being tortured, but somehow she dreaded hearing this particular case. Behind her Colonel Shepherd was lying like a rag doll in his bed. The Wraith had had him for nearly two months, and she didn't want to even contemplate how those two months could have been spent.

"Aye, I have some idea," Carson answered quietly. "I want to assure you, Elizabeth, that if you weren't the leader of the expedition I would not say what I'm about to." The Scotch Doctor suddenly looked older, more tired than Elizabeth had ever seen him. She knew how he felt. "We've found traces of the Wraith enzyme in his blood. We've also found elevated traces of certain chemicals in his blood and his brain scans-" The man sighed, unable or unwilling to go on. "I won't bore you with the technical side Elizabeth. Suffice it to say that what we've discovered would suggest that John has been interrogated using narcotics, and probably some form of mental manipulation. His readings are similar to those we took from Teyla when she first started trying to contact the Wraith collective."

Elizabeth heard how sharp her intake of breath was.

"Colonel Shepherd has been through a terrible ordeal. There's evidence of two broken ribs, which unfortunately have begun to heal without being set." Elizabeth winced and the doctor nodded, understanding. "Yes, we will need to re-set them, which will be painful. There are burns from the crash, as well as severe bruising on his upper extremities, and his fingers. I'm afraid several of them have been broken."

"He won't be able to play guitar anymore, will he?" she asked faintly. Strange how that was what struck her.

"I don't imagine so. But the real injuries go far deeper."

Elizabeth looked up, unaccountably panicked. It got worse?

"He's going to have to spend some serious time with Doctor Heightmeyer, which I doubt he'll be best pleased about. This kind of interrogation leaves scars which sometimes never fully heal."

She nodded mutely. There was nothing else she could say.

Carson smiled kindly. "Would you like to sit with him?" he asked softly. "It would probably help him to hear a friendly voice."

Liz bit the inside of her cheek. "He seemed to have trouble believing he'd escaped in the Gate Room. He said-" but she thought better of it. "I suspect I'll only make him worse."

"Well, it's you or Rodney, and personally I think he'd much rather find you waiting for him."

Elizabeth paused. She really should leave him, let him get his rest. But then, what if Carson was right, and he really would want her there?

And besides, she knew she didn't want to leave.

"I'll just get some paperwork to keep me occupied," she murmured.

What do you think? Is it going okay? Should I continue..?