A/N:
After receiving quite some nudging and poking, I finally sat down and wrote the next chapter. Sorry for taking so long yet again for updating, but I was kind of in whumping mood lately and needed some fanfiction-fix myself.
I can't thank TCB 0.5 enough for the beta, especially since she read through this chapter at 8 AM before going to bed.

VIII

Sheppard's left hand was clenched to a tight fist, nails digging deep into his palm as he watched Carson drift slowly into oblivion. This was wrong, so wrong. He felt helpless beyond belief. Usually he was the one who ended up wounded in the infirmary, with Beckett working miracles on him, if necessary moving heaven and hell. The man was a kick-ass physician, if anyone could send the Grim Reaper packing, it was him! Trust wasn't nearly a strong enough word to describe what he felt when in Carson's care. And now they had to simply witness him fade away and could do nothing, nothing but wait. Why was having friends ever so painful?

Face set, John took a step back and flopped onto the chair he had occupied before. From the corner of an eye he could see Rodney's guilt-laden expression. Hesitantly he raised a hand to lay on the physicist's shoulder as he too took a seat. "He'll be okay. You'll see." John's tone suggested conviction his mind lacked.

"I looked away." McKay sounded inconsolable. "I looked away…", his words receded to a whisper.

At the sound of shuffling feet and fabric being pulled back, Sheppard looked up, for the first time realizing that Dr Cole had still been there. "I'll get more chairs", she said as she sneaked out. A few minutes later, the curtain was drawn back with a swift move. However, it was not Dr Cole but two nurses bringing chairs. Without a word they set them down and exited, leaving the curtain partially open, thus creating more space now that there were five worried persons waiting.

While Ronon and Teyla sat down, Elizabeth looked indecisive, unsure what to do. With small, hesitant steps she moved towards the still form in the bed before her. It took a few seconds before she reached out for the cloth and rinsed it. For the fraction of a second her shoulders slumped and it seemed as if she might lose her composure. But when she placed the cold cloth on Carson's forehead again, her face and features displayed no weakness. She tenderly stroked his cheek, then turned and went away.

Knowing he was stripped of all other options but wait and be at Beckett's side, John leaned back heavily and closed his eyes, lulled by the murmured self-berating of McKay's voice. The night sitting by his injured friend had been long, and the new day had just dawned. So for an endless moment, he silently listened to the monotonous beeping of the various monitors and the rhythmical whoosh-thunk of the respirator. Finally, his own breathing levelled out and he gently slid back into the realm of restless dreams.

Although he hadn't even become aware of leaving consciousness behind at all, when he reluctantly opened his eyes again after what seemed less than ten minutes of merciful respite, the scenery had changed significantly. A quick check on his watch told him it was already way past noon. Rodney had fallen asleep on the chair beside him, while Ronon had obviously found the vacant bed next to Beckett's. Sheppard couldn't suppress a grin; the soundly slumbering warrior was quite a sight. He noticed Elizabeth hadn't returned as of yet, and Teyla was gone as well, but he suspected he would find the Athosian in her own bed.

Careful not to make a sound, he gingerly got up and stretched his aching limbs. Just seconds ago the pilot had smiled at the Satedan for his choice of the bed, now he silently envied him. Most likely Ronon would not have to worry about stiff and numb extremities when he woke up. Judging by the very uncomfortably-looking posture of the scientist, at least McKay would share his fate. An evil grin crossed his face. Without noise he walked over to Carson's head and for a while did nothing but look at his motionless friend. For all the fear and despair John had seen in the man's eyes before he had been put to sleep, now his face was completely relaxed and void of all worries. There was no pain, only peace. Sheppard gently took the cloth from Beckett's forehead, quietly washed his fevered face and let it once more sink into the basin of water. Then he placed it back on the doc's brow.

Sighing deeply, John considered dropping on his seat again before his grumbling stomach reminded him of its emptiness. 'Alright, maybe I can just grab some food and coffee at the mess. There's nothing here at the moment I could do anyway.' He was already on his way sneaking out of the curtained area when it hit him. 'Boots… right… I should probably put on the boots.' Being aware of the colonel's concern for his friend, no one would have said anything, but he still preferred holding up a minimum resemblance of dignity, especially as the CO of Atlantis.

On his way out, he briefly stopped by at Beckett's office, where Dr Cole was concentrating on some paperwork.

"Is anything wrong?" she started, alarmed.

"No, everything seems to be fine. I just wanted to go to the mess and wondered if I could bring you something as well", Sheppard asked standing in the doorframe.

She smiled. "I'm fine. Thanks, Colonel."

"Welcome", he mumbled tapping his fist on the door as he left.

xXxXx

Once Sheppard had smelled the delicious aroma of spicy goulash with rice, the temptation of getting a warm meal into his starving stomach was too much to defy. Instead of merely chewing on a turkey sandwich, he sat down at one of the tables with a dish of goulash, a glass of juice and a tasty donut. Despite his hunger and the aroma, he paid little attention to the meal. While he ate in silence, his mind strayed back to the infirmary. He only noticed that he had already emptied his tray when his fork repeatedly clicked on the plate without hitting anything. He quickly disposed of the tray, then fetched another one and began piling different sandwiches, side dishes and desserts on it; plus two cups of blue Jell-O for McKay. John had never understood Rodney's fascination for wobbly, coloured food with no nutritional value whatsoever, but since the astrophysicist craved this dessert, he hoped it would lighten his mood a bit.

As he passed the doors of the mess hall, juggling his tray laden with food and two vacuum flasks of coffee, he nearly bumped into Elizabeth, who only just managed to get out of the way to avoid a collision.

"Whoa, Elizabeth."

"John."

For a moment an awkward silence spread between the two, then Weir continued, "Quite an amazing pile you got yourself."

"Um, yeah", was the only reply.

"I see you're headed to the infirmary again", Elizabeth began. "I… ehm… I had a lot of work. I'll come and see after Carson later." She fiddled nervously with her hands.

"Sure. See ya", Sheppard muttered picking up his stride, not waiting for an answer.

Arriving at his destination roughly half an hour after he had left, he found McKay and Ronon at Teyla's side next to her bed. A painful knot formed inside his stomach and he swallowed hard.

"What happened? Is something wrong?" The dread was clearly audible in his voice.

Rodney looked confused and shot a glance at the curtain, right index finger and left thumb pointing in the direction. "Oh, you mean…"

"No. Nothing is wrong, Colonel", Teyla soothed with a calming gesture. "Doctor Beckett is still fine. There is just a… visitor."

The way Teyla pronounced the last word did nothing to ease Sheppard's disquiet. Wordlessly he put the tray down on Teyla's night stand and cautiously approached the secluded section. From inside he heard a muffled voice, but he could not quite make out who it was, nor could he understand the words. The sight that greeted him upon lurking round the half-drawn curtain left him speechless. There was Colonel Caldwell sitting on one of the chairs, slightly hunched over, elbows resting on his knees. The face of the usually tough-as-nails commander of the Daedalus displayed a softness John had not believed possible in the hard features of the experienced soldier.

Almost instantly Caldwell became aware of Sheppard's presence and straightened immediately, his tone becoming both louder and more resolute. "Anyway… I hope you will get better soon, Doctor." With a firm pat on Beckett's shoulder he rose and passed the pilot with a nod, added by a short, "Colonel Sheppard."

Astounded and unable to say anything, John gazed after the Colonel, who left the infirmary without a sideways glance.

To be continued…