Thanks for reading! And for sticking with this through the long updates! Stealth Dragon had an idea about where this was going, so a shout out to her! Again, sorry for the delay!

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When they arrived through the 'gate, nothing happened. Literally. Sheppard listened carefully, inside and out, looking for a change from the planet to The City.

Nothing.

In fact, Atlantis was quiet. This unnerved the colonel to the point where he opened his eyes fully. "What's going on?" Suddenly, he felt lost and disoriented. The City was his center, and now it was gone. "Where...?" Sheppard stopped, realizing his voice was more a whimper than a statement.

"Come on, son," Beckett reached down to pull the shivering colonel off the bench. "Let's get ye down to the infirmary so I can take a proper look at ye."

"No," Sheppard whined. "I can't. I have to find her!" He struggled to stand, swaying greatly before Beckett could stop him. The doctor made rapid-fire comments into his comm as one hand shot out to catch the colonel's blanket-wrapped arm.

"Oh, wonderful. Now he's delirious." McKay rose from the pilot's chair, snatching up his pack and vest. "I believe Atlantis is fresh out of damsels, Sheppard. Call back later."

"Rodney, please." Teyla rose, facing her commanding officer and friend. "John, you are home now. Go with Carson. He'll help you–"

"No! I have to find her!"

"Who could you possibly need to find at this hour, Sheppard? It's like four in the morning here. Which still amazes me, really. Most times, after leaving the Stargate, we're, like, in the same galaxy. The possibilities of winding up on a planet at the same time you left Atlantis is not impossible, just improbable. Just because you leave one place does not mean it is the same time, or even the same year–"

"Rodney!"

Their simultaneous exasperation snapped the colonel out of his stupor, looking around him in wonder. "Domicillium Atlantica," Sheppard whispered.

Beckett jumped forward grabbing hold of the man's shoulders. I sure hope Rodney did not hear that. "All right, Colonel. Off we get. Yer going to be my guest for the day," The doctor steered the unsteady man toward the hatch. A gurney arrived as they hit the end of the ramp. The colonel's step faltered, and Beckett mistook it for stubbornness. "I doubt you'll make it all the way to the infirmary, lad."

Sheppard lowered his head, and nodded slowly. Atlantis had distanced itself from him, leaving him more cold inside than when he left the planet. Once he lay on the waiting gurney, he pulled the blanket around him tighter. Somewhere between the jumper bay and Carson's care, Sheppard drifted off into an empty darkness.

Elizabeth Weir came rushing down the stairs to meet the gurney. Grabbing his hand, she nearly snatched it back after feeling how cold it was. "Is he all right? He's freezing!" She carefully tucked his hand back under the beautiful blanket wrapped around him.

The doctor smiled wearily, nodding. "I need to check him out fully, but he should be fine, luv. If you don't mind, I think we could all do with some sleep."

"Of course, Carson. We'll meet later today, say, around three hundred hours?" She looked towards Major Lorne for his approval. He gave a quick nod, and she tried to give her best reassuring smile. Watching her flagship team exit the 'gate room, Elizabeth noticed a difference in all of them. Maybe it was just fatigue, but something had changed. I have never seen Teyla smile like that! What happened down there?

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

Around noon, Elizabeth found her way down to the infirmary. She had been getting progress reports on the team, particularly John Sheppard, but she had to see them herself. Quietly entering the large open room, she glanced around for Carson Beckett. The medical wing was empty except, of course, its most frequent guest. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch the colonel's arm. It was definitely warmer than before; her shoulders sagged with relief. Giving a final squeeze, Elizabeth moved away to seek out the doctor.

"Carson?" Doctor Weir wandered into the doctor's office and found him slumped over his desk, snoring softly. Leaving quickly and quietly, she tip-toed her way back to the main infirmary, sidling up to Sheppard's bedside again. The man was still deep asleep, but lines of worry still creased his brow. She reached over to smooth away a stray lock that lay limply across his forehead. Tell me that's not a fever, she thought sadly.

"He thinks Atlantis abandoned him."

Elizabeth spun quickly around to find Carson Beckett standing just outside the main area. Stilling her heart, she took a deep breath. "How are you? I didn't want to disturb you. We didn't get to talk earlier."

The doctor waved his hand dismissively. "Och don't worry about me, lass. I was about to check on him soon enough." He moved slowly forward, reaching the other side of Sheppard's bed. Studying his patient's face, Beckett noticed the slight flush in the cheeks. He muttered under his breath, and reached for a thermometer.

"What is it? Fever?"

Without looking up, Beckett nodded, watching the digital numbers settle. "I was afraid his temp would go up. This is going to be like withdrawal for him."

Elizabeth's lips formed a thin line. "What do you mean?"

The doctor sighed when the instrument beeped. "Not too bad." He looked up at the expedition leader. "My theory is that since he was tied into that bloody outpost for nearly two days, there's going to be some sort of withdrawal. And The City isn't helping him out of this one. Right now, he just needs as much sleep as possible."

She tore her eyes away from the exhausted doctor's face to look at the pilot. Her pilot. "How long?"

"As long as he needs. If he just rests, and doesn't make too much of an effort dealing with Atlantis, Colonel Sheppard should be out of the infirmary in about two days." If he rests. If his temperature stays down. If he gets his strength back. If The City lets him back in. "We'll see." Beckett slipped a needle into the IV port, and watched the crease in the colonel's brow fade.

Doctor Weir nodded once, and gently clasped Sheppard's hand. "He was so cold earlier. Is that related to the withdrawal?" She really wanted to know more about what was going on, but the information would have to wait until one of them was rested and ready to talk. Frowning at the amount of patience she would need, the negotiator turned her attention to her military counterpart.

"To be perfectly honest, lass, I don't know." Then a thought popped into his head: the callis root he got from Kerna. The preparation and even a recipe came to mind, nearly blinding in its intensity. Beckett shut his eyes suddenly against the imaginary light of thought. "I can make him more comfortable, but he'll have to ride this out." I know how my head feels right now; I can't imagine his pain. A brief flash of another herb in his collection came to mind. The properties were similar to aspirin, but mild on the system. Quite relaxing, by the look of it. He had found it disconcerting to have all this knowledge in his head, however the feeling had begun to fade after his impromptu nap.

Elizabeth noticed the doctor's sudden reaction. "What about you? Are you having some symptoms?"

"Yes, he is, and should be in bed." A new voice entered the room. Doctor Biro shuffled in behind her colleague, snatching the chart he was holding out of his hand. The next shift had begun. "You. Bed. Now." She swanned away, shoving the chart into an awaiting nurse's hand. The shorter woman gave her best scow, crossing her arms.

Beckett smiled apologetically. "I know, I know. I'm not going to fight ye on this, Caroline." Covering his mouth, he shielded them from a jaw-cracking yawn. With one warning glance from Biro, he watched her disappear behind her office door.

"You go. I'll check back in later. If you feel up to it, come by the conference room. I heard a little bit about your run-in with a console, so you can fill me in." Her diplomatic smile slipped into place, as she caught Biro peeking around the wall. "Get some rest, and I'll talk to you later."

Elizabeth left the infirmary in a hurry, not wanting to risk the wrath of the forensic pathologist.

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

Several hours later, Sheppard sat bolt upright in his bed. Sweat soaked everything, leaving him chilled. Who turned up the heat in here? He untangled himself from the damp bedsheets, feeling the familiar discomfort of an IV. Lowering the bed rail neatly and quietly, he grabbed the IV pole, dragging it toward the bathroom. With a thought he willed the light on, however, it was sluggish coming on. After thanking the inventor of handrails, Sheppard leaned heavily against the sink staring at his reflection. Who was this haggard man staring back? Beyond pale features made even more stark by a two-day beard.

It's a wonder no one said anything, he thought. Hell, he probably wouldn't have heard it anyway, being so out of it. With a deep sigh, he passed a hand over his face. A shower and a shave, that's all you need, John. Carson would kill him, but it was a necessary risk. Glancing down at his hand, Sheppard carefully slipped the IV line out, taping the end. Applying pressure to stem the flow of blood, he quickly reached into a cabinet, pulling out a bandage.

Satisfied that it would hold under the spray, Sheppard stepped into the shower. The water arrived slowly, and lukewarm; he didn't care as long as he could get rid of the grimy feeling. A twinge reminded him of a recent injury; he lightly touched the bruise across his chest. He wanted the exhaustion and the cold and the tension to flow out of him and down the drain.

The City was still quiet for him, hesitantly obeying his commands. "What? Are you jealous?" Immediately, a hum like laughter tickled his spine. Then it was gone, leaving him empty once again. He grabbed the rail with both hands to keep from falling.

Come back to me. Please!

The edges of his vision darkened, and he sank to the shower floor. The water shut off slowly with a thought. Peeking around the tile wall, he saw Beckett sitting on the toilet, arms crossed, staring at his feet. "Oh. Hey, Carson. I, um. Well–"

"Please don't speak, Colonel." Placing his hands on his knees, the doctor wearily stood. He pulled a large towel from the cabinet and threw it over the shower wall. "Dry off. Let me know when yer ready."

Sheppard peeked around the partition again to see if he was alone. Beckett had merely turned around, arms crossed again. The colonel watched the doctor warily as he tried off while still sitting. When most of him was dry, he attempted to stand using every handrail available in the large shower. Finally upright, he wrapped the towel around his waist, and stepped carefully out of the shower area. Sheppard tried to gauge exactly how upset the Scot was, however Beckett's face was unreadable.

Without turning around, Beckett handed over a set of maroon scrubs. "Let's get ye dressed," Beckett said, stifling a yawn. Finally he did turn around, offering his hand. "C'mon, yer gettin' cold."

The colonel was about to say something, (I did just get out of the shower, Carson) but his strength was waning. "I can't feel Atlantis anymore," he said suddenly as he pulled pants on. Beckett caught the colonel as he listed sideways. If he wasn't so tired, Sheppard would have made a face. It's a miracle I've stayed standing for this long. He leaned against the doctor as the shirt was pulled over his head.

Carson smiled sadly. "Well, I'm sure after yer rested, she'll sing again fer ye." He heard/felt the constant vibration almost immediately as they entered the 'gate. The City had never been so lively for him, yet all he had to do was think about John, and Atlantis showed him the way. He had guessed for himself what might have happened, nevertheless, a HUD popped up in his office as he woke from a short nap.

"Hey, Doc," the colonel whispered. "I think 's time f'bed." Again with the slurring!

"Aye, lad." He pulled the colonel's arm over his shoulder, gently pulling the thinner man closer. "I can give ye something for yer headache, if ye like. Are ye hungry?"

"Li'l. Tired mostly." Sheppard staggered once before reaching his bed. He hated being so dependent, but all he thought about was darkness. The stray thought caused the lights to dim further. Lowering himself to his bed, he snagged the doctor's hand. "Thanks, Carson."

Asleep again at last.

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

The sun was streaming through the high glass windows, painting designs of varying colors across Sheppard's blanket. Absently, he kicked off the covers to cool down.

"You probably shouldn't do that," said a voice to his right. The voice was accompanied by the constant clacking on a keyboard. "Beckett's already pissed at you."

"No he's not, McKay," the colonel croaked as he pulled himself upright, wincing at his sore wrists. Leaning forward, Sheppard was thankful for the air conditioned gown. Gown? Coulda sworn I was wearing scrubs. He also felt the tell-tale tug of an IV in his right hand. "I had to take a shower. He saw me, we talked. He's fine." He tried to hide his puzzlement, especially with the uncomfortable catheter.

McKay stopped abusing his laptop and looked up. "You don't remember?"

The colonel stilled, staring at his friend. "Remember what?" Why do I feel I am not gonna like this?

McKay slammed shut his laptop, leaning forward. "Do you know how many times Beckett had go find you? He had to strap you to the bed to keep you from leaving!" He rose, pouring water into a cup. "Drink."

"Thanks." Sheppard took a slow sip. "What do you mean, 'kept leaving'? As far as I know I slept great after my shower–"

"Oh my God, Sheppard! That was two nights ago!"

Surprise stamped itself all over the colonel's face. He collapsed against the pillows, casting his mind back. He remembered the shower, and... "Was I in the Chair Room?"

"Yes," the scientist actually looked away before he brought his sad-eyed gaze to rest on Sheppard's face.

"What? Tell me," the colonel said quietly.

McKay pulled the covers back over the patient, who protested being too hot. "You're not gonna get any better–"

"Rodney!"

"Okay, okay. Just... you know... calm down." He stood in his normal defensive stance, arms crossed tightly across his chest. "Yes. You did eventually end up in the chair. But not before running around deliriously in the corridors talking to walls." He sighed and began pacing.

"So I may have had a bit of a set-back–"

"A bit?" McKay halted in his tracks. His arms came down in a huff, rigidly at his sides. "Colonel, you had a fever of one hundred and four, and you thought Atlantis abandoned you. When you finally settled down, it was only after you sat in that chair for almost an hour before we found you."

The genius watched the soldier consider this information. The only color in Sheppard's pale face was in his flushed cheeks. "I do remember the chair, but that's all. Even that seemed like a dream." He looked at McKay with a mixture of exhausted resignation and keen interest. "The LSD?"

McKay snorted. "Sheppard, we both know Atlantis will hide you if you want it to– You've got it back!"

"What?"

"Atlantis!" Laptop in hand, McKay placed it on the bed next to the colonel's leg. His fingers flew over the keyboard as his head bobbed furiously. "Yes, yes, yes. All the systems are back to normal. You did it."

Sheppard tried unsuccessfully to rise, but he was slipping into a daze. "What the hell are you talking about, Rodney?" Then he felt the familiar vibration. Yes. The City was back to normal. But what happened?

"When you came back from the planet, Atlantis went haywire. I think it was protecting itself by distancing its systems from you."

"The cold shoulder, huh?"

"More like cooties." The astrophysicist smiled at the puzzled expression. "The other outpost was something of an anomaly to begin with, changed over time by various people to suit their needs. They did it unconsciously, of course, but nevertheless, it changed the cybernetic makeup. Therefore, it marked you. Everything you touched, every thought – reciprocating adaptability. Fascinating. What I can't figure out is why it responded to you in such a way."

"'Lantis or da udder one?" Nope, not gonna last long here. Sheppard felt his eyes slipping closed.

"Both, actually. I mean, it made you so tired every time it connected with you. I think you were more than just a conduit. Maybe a circuit breaker, or something I don't know. When you were in the chair, something happened–"

"Rrrodney!" Rolled r's meant trouble. "I told ye to come get me when he woke." He set a steaming mug on the side table. Turning his steely gaze on his patient, Beckett gently grabbed his wrist. "Feelin' better? Sorry about the bruises, lad. Ye had to be restrained for a bit."

"Lot of good that did," McKay muttered. When there was silence, he glanced up. "What?"

The doctor frowned deeply. "It was a precaution. Since we had the damnedest time finding ye."

"How many times did I leave?" The colonel became slightly more alert; a shiver traveled his spine.

Beckett casually slipped on his stethoscope, warming the membrane in his hands. "At least four times that I counted. Twice, ye made it out to the corridors. Once, ye came to my office–"

"And the last time you made it to the chair room," McKay finished.

"Aye. When you came to my office, you asked if I would protect The City." Deft hands reached out, and quickly made their examination.

Sheppard tried to sharpen his focus. "What? Why would–"

"I'm sure it was because you thought your gene wasn't working anymore." The scientist shifted uncomfortably, remembering the look of desperation on the soldier's face. "Delirium has that affect on a person. Now, since Atlantis is no longer crazy, I have some work to do." Without another look, McKay marched out of the room, laptop under his arm.

Beckett laughed softly. "Ye know he's just concerned for ye, Colonel. Here," he proffered the mug.

"I know. No matter how disturbing it is." The patient sat up stiffly, holding the mug with both trembling hands. "Sorry about the trouble, Doc. What is this?" He took a sip. It vaguely tasted of honey and apples. After a few larger sips, Sheppard felt his insides warm and regulate. He was no longer too cold or hot. "That's kinda tasty."

"It's callis root tea. Kerna told me it should get yer body temperature under control."

Sheppard nodded slowly, feeling fatigue wash over him once again. He took another sip and gave the mug back; his arms betrayed him at the last minute. "I actually feel okay. Anyways," the colonel slurred as his eyes drooped. "How're you doin'?"

Beckett had swiftly caught the mug before it spilled. "I'm just fine, John. Didn't take me as long to recover. Yoo, on the other hand," he drawled, "will need as much rest as possible."

"Mmmkay," the colonel was losing the battle with his eyelids. "I get to leave t'morrow, right?" But he never heard Beckett's response.

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

John Sheppard awoke to a glorious day. The bright sun beat down through the high windows in the infirmary. Every member of his team would come to visit him, since he was quite a bit more alert than yesterday. For the first time in days, he was fully alert and starving. Even The City greeted him with a status report and a weather update just before he woke. It was going to be a pleasant day, all day. Sheppard made a mental note to visit the nearest balcony A.S.A.P.

"Oh, good you're up," Beckett announced cheerily. "I'll be back with more tea, and breakfast."

"Thanks, Doc." He ate with an eagerness that he had not felt in a long time. Feeling more than a little energized, he waited patiently for Beckett to check his vitals, remove the IV and catheter. An hour after showering, he felt a familiar tiredness settle over him. But it wasn't as bad as before. Tracing the colors splashed across his bed with a finger, Sheppard found his eyes closing. Just a little nap, maybe. The City wasn't helping his adamant will to stay awake, lulling him into sleep with a comforting hum.