John knew something was wrong.

He didn't have to be in the room below, on the other side of the observation glass to know it either. It was in Carson's expression, the frantic hand gestures, the way Marie scrambled, and the way the two nurses jumped as Carson dove past them, grabbing an injector from one of their hands and pressing it tightly against Jennifer's neck.

No one needed to be in the room to know the what it sounded like amongst the beeping machinery and yelled orders.

John wasn't sure anyone on the second floor was breathing either, as foreheads pressed against cold glass. Parked between Ronon and Teyla, he could almost feel the collective intake of oxygen as they waited.

It wasn't until Carson looked up, his shoulders dropping with a relieved nod, that everyone inhaled again.

Carson tapped his earpiece. "Everything's fine."

"What the hell happened?!" John demanded, activating his own com.

Carson shook his head, and glanced from the monitors, to Jennifer, then up to the second floor. "The virus is overtaking her system." He shook his head. "We have another thirty eight minutes before we can try again."   Then he looked directly up at John. "The wee lass can't take much more of this. If we don't figure it out soon, I'm afraid…" Carson trailed off, unable to complete the words. He turned his back on the observers, and stared at the display from the scanner.

It wasn't just that Jennifer's body had the virus. The body outline on the second monitor was so full of yellow dots it glowed like a neon sign.

Rodney wobbled slightly and had to back up to sit down in one of the benches across the corridor.

Teyla moved to sit beside him, patting the back of his hand where it rested on his knees. "I am sure she's going to be just fine, Rodney." She said softly.

Rodney shook his head. "It should be working. I don't understand why it's not working."

"I do not know, Rodney." Teyla shook her head, then sighed softly. "The mind heals what the mind wants to heal," she whispered, more to herself than the others.

Rodney turned towards her, his mind struggling to grasp what Teyla was saying. "I'm sorry, what?"

Teyla tilted her head. "Hmm?"

"What you said? The mind heals…"

"Oh. It is an old Athosian saying." Teyla shrugged, glancing at Ronon and John, who'd turned towards them. "The mind heals what the mind wants to heal."

"You think she doesn't want to get well?" Rodney stared at her wide-eyed.

"Oh no, Rodney." Teyla shook her head. "I think Jennifer would do everything she could to make herself better… if…"

"If she knew she was sick." John finished with a nod.

"But Carson can't wake her up." Rodney blinked. "If we need her to wake up to heal, how's she supposed to heal herself to wake up? How is she supposed to know she's sick? She's… she's… unconscious."

John frowned, and turned back towards the glass, his hands loosely sliding into his front pockets. How was she supposed to know? If they couldn't wake her up long enough to get her thinking, then how were they going to get her thinking long enough to wake up?

"You can't." Ronon shook his head, telling John he'd muttered the words aloud.

John stuffed his hands further into his front pockets, his mind connecting questions he couldn't answer. How could you wake someone up who didn't know they were sleeping, short of another excursion into dream land? Carson had already ruled that out as far too dangerous. So what was left…

Had to be something he was missing.

Something they were all missing.

Something he'd heard someone say once…

But where had he heard it?

In silence Ronon spun, and John's head turned with him, watching the Satedan as he strode briskly away.

John blinked.

Hmmm. Was it… ?

"I'll be back." He turned to Rodney and Teyla, who were still sitting shoulder to shoulder on the bench, both of them staring after Ronon's retreating backside. "You'll call me if…"

"Yes." Teyla nodded. "We will call."

John turned on his heel and headed towards the stairs. Dropping down them two at a time, he hit the bottom at a half jog and quickly caught up to Ronon.

"Hey," he said, falling into step beside the Satedan. "Walk with me."

Ronon grunted, but turned when John made an immediate right. They moved through the corridors and into the small labs which were situated in behind the infirmary. The second corridor opened into a small room, packed with medical equipment and several computers.

John pulled them inside and closed the door.

Ronon stood against the wall, glancing around at Jennifer's lab, his expression closed.

"I need your help." John walked towards one of the computers, and dragged the keyboard in front of him.

"With what?" Ronon frowned.

"I have an idea." John scanned through the list of items scrolling across the screen.

"For Jennifer?" Ronon stepped forward.

"Yeah." John nodded. "What Teyla said about the mind. How are we supposed to help her help herself?" He continued to look through files. "Did you know there are entire cultures on Earth who believe they can heal themselves just by thinking about it?"

Ronon snorted.

John shrugged. "Judging by what's happening right now, I'm beginning to think there might be something to it."

"So what do you need me for?" Ronon crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

"Because if I'm right…" John hesitated, his hand on the keyboard. He found the file he was looking for, but didn't immediately open it. "She's not going to want to hear it coming from me."

"Hear what?" Ronon's eyes narrowed.

John turned towards him and hooked a foot around one of the three wheeled stools scattered about the room. "Sit." He tilted his chin and slid the stool in front of Ronon.

Ronon stared.

"Sit." John ordered.

Ronon grunted but sat, his arms threaded tightly across his chest. John grabbed his own stool and plopped down on it, rolling back and forth as he spoke.

"When you were… recovering… from your overdose of Wraith enzyme, we set up a twenty four hour security team to… ah… keep an eye on things. More for McKay's piece of mind…" John gave a half smile.

Ronon grunted.

"Part of that detail included a video feed."

Ronon blinked at the computer screen behind John, then back to the Colonel's face.

John angled his head. "No one has seen it, or has access to it except Dr. Keller… and me. You have my word on that."

Ronon exhaled. "So?"

"I think there's…" John inhaled slowly. "Something you need to hear. Something important.  I didn't remember it at first… but what Teyla said up there got me thinking.  If I'm right, then you're going to give our sleeping doctor something to think about."

Ronon leaned slightly forward.

John stood up and turned towards the keyboard. After typing in his password, he accessed the video feed from Ronon's stint in the infirmary. John fast forwarded, skimming through the video with speed, ignoring the scattered action of people coming and going, until he neared the end. And there he slowed.

He hesitated twice before finding the section he wanted, then backed up. Once he was happy, he turned around to face Ronon, who was still sitting on the stool, arms crossed and face expressionless, staring at his own image on the screen.

John stepped in front of the computer, blocking Ronon's view. Ronon looked up.

"She took every other shift. For every one of us that sat with you, she relieved that person."

"Why?"

John glanced over his shoulder. "I think Doc will explain it best herself…" Then he turned back to Ronon. "This will get both our hides tanned if she finds out I showed this to you. But if you just so happen to remember some of it on your own…"

Ronon nodded. Once.

"I'll be in with Carson." John stepped away, leaving Ronon alone in the lab. "I'm going to have some 'splaining to do."

Ronon stared at the frozen image on the screen. He knew he'd been in bad shape. He'd even remembered pieces of it. But to see himself, so completely bedraggled, sweat-soaked, his eyes red-rimmed, it was uncomfortable to say the least.

The image was from above, showing most of his body, his wrists threaded tightly into restraints, his torso twisted while he bucked against the tie downs. Jennifer stood beside him, a white cloth in her hand which she was in the process of trying to place on his forehead, but apparently he wasn't having anything to do with it.

Ronon rolled slowly forward on the small metal stool, stopping when he reached the edge of the desk. His fingers hesitated only a moment before pushing the button, sending the image playing. He blinked at the ferocity of his own voice - screaming obscenities at her - hoarse and cracked from shouting. It was barely louder than a harsh whisper. He heard himself threatening her… threatening her children… her children's children… telling her he'd kill them all given the chance… he'd kill them all and would feel nothing but power to know they'd all died… that she needed to do it… to get it over with… to kill him before he got the chance. Kill him because he hated her. He hated them. He hated them all.

And with every punctuation she simply stood to the side, landing the cloth against his forehead and holding it there until he would shake it off.

Ronon couldn't see her expression because she stood with her back to the camera, but he could hear her voice. And while he alternated between threatening and begging… she talked over him, through him, around him, until all he heard through the pauses was her voice.

Well I don't hate you. You can bluster all you want, mister. You don't scare me. I know it's not you talking. It's the drug, Ronon. You've had a rough time. I know you have. But it's not permanent. You've got to trust me.  You're going to be fine.

She moved around to stand behind him, dragging a stool behind her with her foot. She lowered herself onto the chair and he could see the video version of himself craning to see her. With her elbows propped up on the bed behind his head, her fingers moved to spots on his temples and he struggled against her, but she flexed her arms, moving her hands with his head, never breaking contact. All the while she kept talking. Just… talking. Everything coming out in a stream of chatter that was soft, yet firm.

So.  Where was I?  Oh.  Right.  You know I don't think I'll ever get used to the differences between your galaxy and mine. You have the strangest customs. Yes, I know, Teyla's always saying we have odd customs… but you have your own oddities too, you know. Wraith aside and all. I mean, for one, you people have the strangest concept of personal safety.

On Earth, when people we love are threatened, the first thing we do to protect them is push them away. Shove 'em out the door. Make sure we do everything we can to get them to go as far away from us as possible.

You're sounding awfully Earth like right now because I know you don't mean a word of this.

It's interesting don't you think? Teyla's here with Torren, and I swear every time I see them together I can't help but think we should be finding somewhere safe for him to be. Anywhere but here. You'd say it would be wrong to send him away from his mother, wouldn't you?

On Earth, if a mother was in trouble, being chased after by a freak like Michael… she'd never take her child with her… she'd send him to the far corners of the planet! Anywhere but where she was currently. She'd send that child as far away from her as possible… just to keep him safe. But here… here it's the exact opposite. You don't push people away. You pull them closer somehow. Teyla keeps Torren with her. She knows exactly where he is every moment of the day. She knows that the safest place for him is with her. Protected by her. Because who could possibly love him enough to protect him like she can? Who would do anything to protect him if not his own mother? The safest place he could possibly ever be, is here, with her.

Her hands had moved now… down to his neck, where she was massaging the muscles that ran up along the bones at the base of his neck.  Ronon was amazed to see that his video self had actually almost stopped fighting.  The occasional buck and growl, but less movement than before…

There's the crazy Earth saying… Goes something like… If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it's yours. If it doesn't come back, it was never yours to begin with. Like that's supposed to make sense. But it sums up us Earth folk pretty well, don't you think? If you love something, set it free… Bullshit, if you ask me.

Then she laughed, her fingers moving now down towards his shoulders. Her arms were stretched the length of his head and he wasn't moving. Ronon saw himself just laying there like a hypnotized idiot, eyes closed while she rotated her fingers across the muscles of his shoulders.  Her chin hung practically over his forehead while she continued to talk.

Bullshit. Every time I hear anyone say that word I think of Gladys Rose. Oh Ronon, you'd have liked her. She was a riot. Amazing old woman. Probably genetically related to you somehow. I was doing my residency and she'd come in because she had a stroke, and she was diabetic. Every time she came in, we'd tell her… Gladys - maybe you should think of moving into some kind of full-term care. And you know what she'd say? Bullshit.

Then she'd climb up out of the bed. In her seventies, and she'd just hop out of the bed, get herself dressed, pick up her purse, check her hair in the mirror, and waltz right out of that hospital with her granddaughter, grandson, niece, nephew, son, daughter, whoever… in tow. Three months later and she'd be back again. Two days after being admitted… Gladys, maybe THIS time you should think about palliative care. Bullshit, she say… and right up out of bed again.

I swear Ronon, the woman lived another 10 years. Bullshit… ha! What was interesting was that no matter how long she was in that hospital room, her family was there. They were right there, every day, every hour. And they were talking up a storm. Laughing, chattering, telling stories. They never left her alone, and they never stopped talking. And they use to talk right to her too, even when she was out of it. Grandma remember when… Grandma did you know… Grandma so-and-so said…   Then she'd wake up, tell us our request to keep her was bullshit, and pack up and leave. 

There was this woman… Mary. Her husband had been in a really bad accident, and was in a coma. She came, every day to sit beside his bed. Morning 'till night she was there. Knitting, reading, watching TV… anything to keep busy while she waited for him to wake up. Day after day she sat there. Day after day she waited.

She lost her job eventually. Sold her house to keep paying the bills. Moved into a tiny apartment near the hospital. For months she sat there… months. And then one day… he died. He just died. She was… devastated. I don't think I've been harder hit by a family member before. Usually it's the loss of the patient, but in this case… Mary nearly broke all our hearts. She told me after the funeral the worst part was that she'd never got a chance to say goodbye. I mean, she sat there, hundreds of hours, and never once talked to him. She never once told him she was there. She sat there… day after day after day and never once said his name.  We tried to get her to talk to him...  but she couldn't do it.  I sometimes wonder if he knew she was even there at all. Could he have heard her? Studies say so. Not every doctor believes it… but I do. I sometimes wonder… if he'd known she was there… would he have fought harder? Would he have lived? Would it have mattered? It's just one of those unanswered questions, you know?

Video Jennifer straightened, yawning widely into her shoulder, and turned to face the door which was off camera. "Hey." She smiled softly, standing with a stretch. Her voice was dry and scratchy from constant use.

Rodney walked into the frame and Jennifer pushed the stool to the side.

"I'm your relief." Rodney announced with a smile.

Jennifer nodded, her hand clasping McKay's arm before moving off camera. "Thanks Rodney. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"You don't have to take every shift you know." Rodney had turned away from the camera.

Jennifer reappeared. "It's okay Rodney. I like talking to him. And… well… I know no one else believes me."

Rodney looked away.

"He can hear you." She said strongly, her tired voice cracking.

"If you say so."

"I do." She started away then turned back. "Promise me."

"I promise." Rodney nodded, flopping down into the seat, his tablet balanced on his knees.

"He's in there, Rodney." She said softly, stopping next to the gurney and Ronon's sleeping form. "We need to make sure he knows he's not alone." Then she turned towards Rodney, her eyes narrowed. "He can hear you, so be kind."

"Who, me?" Rodney snorted.

Jennifer patted his shoulder. "See you in a few."

And with that she disappeared from view, and Rodney's voice began with detailed descriptions of something Zelenka had nearly blown up, exasperation at having to fill out requisition forms, and emails that were recited word for word.

Ronon paused the video, then backed it up, playing through the segment again. He watched himself. He watched her. He listened to the chatter, the voice, the words.

And when he was done, he turned off the computer and stood, leaving the lab alone to its silence.