Missing scene from "38 Minutes".
(I'm not sure why, but I suddenly felt the urge to write a missing scene for this eppy--better late than never I suppose.)

Sheppard's POV after the jumper returns and before his team visits him.

A FEW MORE MINUTES

Slowly, he began to become aware of himself again. His neck hurt, his chest hurt, his head hurt. That was all though. There were no other sensations, no heat or cold, warmth or chill. Somewhere, there was a distant rhythmic squeaking. He cracked his eyes open the merest slit. The world spun around him and he closed them again.

"Doctor," someone warned.

A hand rested on his chest, but lightly, as if its owner knew how much he hurt. "Hold on, Major, almost there."

"Almost where?" he wondered, though to ask the question aloud required too much effort. He tried opening his eyes again, managing to increase the slit slightly this time. Things were still spinning--no wait, things were sliding.

The squeaking stopped and so did the sliding.

"On my count: one, two, three."

On "three" the world started moving again, this time sideways, but it stopped almost immediately.

"Get me another set of vitals, an EKG, and a suture kit."

That voice was familiar and safe; he let his eyes slid closed. Vaguely he recalled a frequent nightmare of his childhood--trapped in mud, unable to escape, when the monster inevitably showed up to eat him. An intense pain in the right side of his neck sharpened his thoughts and he grabbed at its source, his still-numb hands and arms obeying him sluggishly and without precision. "GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF ME!"

Someone grabbed his wrists, keeping him from pulling that thing off his neck and he fought against them, impacting with something hard.

"OW! Major!" snapped an authoritative voice, firmly. "Calm down. It's off. It's off!"

He hesitated, his muscles still tensed.

"I promise you, it's off. Can you open your eyes for me?"

He tried and managed about half-way, finally coherent enough to recognize the ceiling of the infirmary high above him. After a few blinks, he managed to get them open almost all the way. Cutting his eyes around, he saw various medical staff and noted the I.V. hanging nearby. Carson was still gripping his wrists firmly--a small trickle of blood ran out of the doctor's nose. "It's gone?" he asked again, not quite believing the nightmare was truly over.

"Yes," replied the physician, loosening his grip slightly. "Are we okay now?"

"We?" he rasped. "Unless you've got a giant tick sucking the life out of your neck…"

"Point taken," agreed the doctor, releasing his hold completely now that he was sure his patient was cognizant of his surroundings. He took the tissue one of the nurses offered.

Sheppard realized that he was probably to blame for the red rivulet running down the physician's face. "Sorry about the nose."

"Don't worry about it," said Beckett, manipulating the organ carefully. "It's not broken." Another few dabs with the tissue cleaned up the blood that was left. After tossing the mess into a nearby trashcan, he reseated himself on the stool at Sheppard's head. "We need to clean out the wound and you're going to need a few stitches." Nodding to the nurse to hand him a syringe, he pulled on a set of gloves then gently probed the injury. "I'm going to give you a local before we get started."

Grimacing, Sheppard clamped his teeth together as the needle bit into the bruised skin of his neck several times in succession, slowly circling the wound.

"How are you feeling? The paralysis is obviously beginning to wear off," the doctor added wryly. "Are you getting any sensation back?"

"Some." Sheppard shifted slightly and was actually happy to feel the uncomfortable tingling in his hands and feet. "Pins and needles." He took a cautious breath. "My chest hurts, though--a lot."

"Not surprising. We had a little trouble getting you back."

"Oh." He had forgotten he'd been dead and wondered what Beckett considered a 'little trouble'. He didn't remember a white light or choruses of singing angels, then again, no flames or screams of despair either. And what was it with this damn galaxy that everyone in the military had to kill their superiors?

"Your EKG and bloodwork look good so far. I don't think there will be any permanent damage. We'll definitely be keeping you here a few days for observation, just to be safe. Still feel this?" he asked, prodding at the wound.

"Yeah."

"We'll wait a bit longer before we start, then." Handing the empty syringe back to the nurse, he patiently settled himself on the stool. "Can you wiggle your fingers and toes yet?" he asked, curiously.

Sheppard scrunched up his face and concentrated. He was rewarded by some small movements.

"Excellent." The physician reached out and took Sheppard's hands in his.

"Just so you know, hand-holding is as far as I go on the first date, Doc." He shot a boyish grin at the nurse who smiled back tolerantly.

"Hmmmm...that's not what I've heard," Beckett replied drolly. "Squeeze my hands? Hard as you can, now. Good enough," the doctor decided as he released them. "Let's see about this bite, now, shall we?"

The lidocaine had dulled the worst of the pain and Sheppard tried to stay as still as possible while the wound was flushed and stitched, though he couldn't suppress a twitch every now and then. To distract himself, he focused his attention on the pretty nurse who was assisting, and idly wondered if Dr. Weir had time to institute a fraternization policy yet.

"All done, Major," Beckett announced when he was finished, bundling up the trash and tossing it into the waste bin. "Now let's get you into some scrubs and settled in for the night. Then, if you feel up to it, you can have some visitors."

"Can I get something to eat?" he asked plaintively. He was suddenly ravenous.

"In a bit," promised the doctor. "I want to run some more blood tests first." He nodded at the nurse to bandage the wound. "I need to talk to a few anxious people in the waiting area and check on Lt. Ford."

Alarmed, Sheppard struggled to sit up. "Ford?"

"Easy, Major," said Beckett, clamping a hand on the injured man's shoulder to keep him prone. "He's fine. He had to blow the hatch so we put him on oxygen to be safe. I just want to give him a quick going-over before I release him."

Sheppard relaxed slightly. "So he'll be okay, then? What about the others—Markham and Stackhouse, and Teyla and Rodney?"

Beckett turned his restrictive hold into an encouraging squeeze before releasing his grip. "Everyone's going to be just fine, Major--

yourself included."

END