I am really sorry to be tardy on updates. I have some serious issues in RL right now that are cutting into my writing time, not to mention distracting me. I intend to continue this story though! Thank you so much for the kind reviews!

There are some minor references to one of my other stories, "Darkness Runs Deep" in this chapter and probably will be worked into the whole story. However, this story is a standalone, but you might want to give "Darkness" a read if you feel inclined ;)

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"Get down!"

"Colonel!"

John's eyes snapped open and he inhaled sharply, his body tensing. For a moment, he felt dread and fear, before the pieces of what his mind was trying to remember disappeared.

"John."

He turned his head slightly and looked into a set of gentle, brown eyes and he recognized the brunette woman as one of the people that had been there before. He felt a trickle of sweat on his forehead and she must've seen it for she looked away a moment and reached for something. When she looked back, she held her smile and wiped a cloth across his forehead. John swallowed hard and stared at her. His instincts told him he should know her, but his mind drew a blank. Uncomfortable and just a little scared, he pursed his lips and looked away. Her hand left his brow.

"I am Teyla," she said gently. "It is all right that you do not recognize me. I am still your friend."

Her soft, understanding words reassured him, if only slightly. He stared back at her. "Sorry," he muttered.

Her smile was warm and compassionate. "Do not apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for."

One side of his mouth turned up slightly. "Thanks… Teyla." He relaxed slightly. "Tell me about you."

Teyla leaned back in her chair. "I am Athosian and a member of your team." A look of respect crossed her face. "We have fought side by side many times."

John sighed. Member of his team? Fought together? His brow wrinkled. That was important. He knew it signified a close bond; something only forged by braving life and death situations together. Yet, none of it was familiar. "Wish I remembered," he commented quietly. His eyes met hers.

Teyla stared intently at him. "That will come, John. You must give yourself time to heal. Then you will remember."

Her voice was confident and John let some of that reassure him.

She inhaled deeply. "Something disturbed your sleep," she stated quietly, "do you wish to speak of it?"

Fleeting moments of danger, fear and dread passed through him. He swallowed against a lump in his throat. Whatever his mind couldn't piece together felt personal; and he hesitated. She must've sensed his uncertainty.

"You do not have to speak of it, John."

Her understanding tone quelled his unease and suddenly he felt comfortable with her… like he'd known her for a long time. Apparently, I have… John's brows furrowed and he took a deep breath. "Not much to talk about. More of an impression than anything…" he closed his eyes. "Something… dangerous." After a long moment, he sighed and opened his eyes. "It's not there. I… I can't remember."

"Have patience, John," Teyla counseled.

John arched a brow in dark cynicism. "That's not one of my fortes," he muttered. He looked at Teyla as she chuckled quietly.

"I know," she affirmed.

Her light humor was contagious and, in spite of the situation, he smiled slightly. "You really do know me." As quick as it came, his smile faded.

"Yes," Teyla nodded, "I do."

"Teyla?" he pursed his lips. "What…" John swallowed hard. "What happened? Were you there?" He thought he saw something resembling guilt fleet across her expression, but it was only for a moment before she buried it in an impassive mask.

"I was there," she answered quietly. She looked away for a moment, before her gaze once more found his. "I cannot tell you, John, not yet. You must begin to remember on your own first."

John bit back his frustration and just nodded slightly.

"I am sorry," Teyla continued. "It is for the best."

John softened his expression some. "Yeah."

Abruptly, the privacy curtain was pulled back to reveal Carson's smiling face. "I thought I heard voices in here. How are you feeling, Colonel?"

John found a small smile. "Little stronger." He started pushing himself up to his elbows. "Can I…" his voice trailed off as a wave of vertigo stopped him dead to rights. He closed his eyes and slowly sank back to his pillow with a groan.

"Ach," Carson walked up to his bed, "let that be a lesson to ye. Two days out of a coma with a head injury and you expect to dance the bloody jig." He looked down at John and sighed. "You are not the best patient I've ever had, Colonel."

John kept his eyes closed a moment longer, until he was sure the room had stopped spinning and the pain in his head had dulled back to a persistent throb. He opened his eyes slowly and looked at Carson. "I hate hospitals."

Carson snorted quietly but said nothing. He gently placed a clipboard on John's lap. "I have a little exercise for you if you're up to it?"

John nodded slightly. "Yeah, what?"

Carson fished around in his pocket and pulled out a pen which he held in front of John. "Write your name for me."

Slightly confused, John slowly reached up and took the pen. He glanced at Teyla, whose face was an unreadable mask, before looking down at the blank piece of paper. "Write my name? Why?" He arched a brow at Carson.

"Trust me, just do it," Carson urged.

John's other brow joined the first as he lifted the clipboard with his free hand but as he lifted the pen to the paper, he found himself staring blankly at it. He slowly started to write, but the scribbling mark he made in no way resembled a J. He sucked in a loud breath and dropped both the pen and the clipboard. "Crap," he whispered. He closed his eyes, fear and confusion sweeping through him, only to be followed by embarrassment and shame. He felt the bed shift as Teyla sat down next to him and he felt Carson's warm hand on his shoulder, but neither did anything to comfort him. "Doc…" he whispered.

"It's all right son," Carson said quietly. "This doesn't surprise me."

"Then you're the only… one!" John managed through clenched teeth. "Shit, Doc, I can't write!"

"John…" Teyla started, but he wouldn't have anything to do with it.

"No, damn it! Don't tell me to be patient and I'll be fine." John's eyes snapped open. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm screwed up!"

"John." Carson's voice took on a stern note. "You took a major blow to the head. There was bound to be some… complications." Carson's grip on his shoulder tightened. "I know it's not much comfort, lad, but this could've been worse… a lot worse."

John pulled in one ragged breath, then another. "Sorry Doc," He couldn't quiet keep the sarcasm from his voice. "I'm not exactly comforted right now."

Carson's smile was grim. "No, I don't expect you are. We'll help you with this. The relearning rate of someone in your circumstance is very rapid. Take heart in that."

John felt less than reassured by Carson's words and was sure his expression showed it. "Yeah, right." He felt the bed shift as Teyla abruptly stood.

"I… I have commitments," she stammered slightly. "I will be back later, John."

Before he could say a word, she whipped the curtain aside and left. He looked over at Carson his gaze narrowing at the sympathetic look on the doctor's face. His gut instinct took over and John was sure, without a shadow of a doubt, there was something significant he couldn't remember… and they weren't telling him. Frustration wormed its way into his voice. "What the hell is going on?"

Carson's expression turned hesitant as he continued to silently stare across the infirmary.

His frustration rising, John stared harder at Carson. "Doc."

Carson sighed deeply before looking down at John. "I think the lass blames herself for what has happened to ye, although it was not her fault."

John's mind raced, adrenaline pushing aside the throbbing pain. Fortifying his resolve, he let a tone of command enter his voice. "Tell me what happened."

"John…" Carson started.

"No." John decisively cut the doctor off. "I want to know what happened. Damn it, Carson, I need to know." John's breathing increased as his gaze bore a hole through the doctor.

Carson looked away for a moment and shook his head slightly before once more meeting John's gaze. "Your team was ambushed off world. You were injured when you ran between Teyla and a grenade. You pushed her out of the way, but the force of the grenade blast knocked you down hard. Your head hit a rock and fractured your skull." Carson paused.

John swallowed hard and took a moment to absorb what the doctor had told him. "Go on," he insisted.

"You were nearly killed by the blow," Carson continued quietly. "In fact, if it wasn't for Teyla's CPR, you would've been. She kept you alive until my team could get to you."

John turned his head away from Carson and squeezed his eyes shut, the racing of his mind, doing nothing to help with his throbbing pain.

"So," Carson added, "I suspect she feels guilty."

"She shouldn't," John whispered. "I'd do that for anyone on my team and… she saved my life."

"Aye," Carson agreed, "but I suspect she needs some time to see that."

John forced his eyes opened. "Who ambushed us?" His voice was deep and held a dangerous note. He looked back at Carson.

A touch of anger infused Carson's normally kind expression. "A race known as the T'eshii."

T'eshii… The word sparked an instantaneous and instinctive reaction in him. Flashes of pain, cruelty, hatred and terror shot through him and John inhaled deeply, the emotional response almost painful. His face contorted as he squeezed his eyes shut against the painful assault.

"Colonel? What is it? What's wrong?"

Carson's worried voice pulled John back to reality. He took one stuttering breath, than another as he tried to compose himself. He felt Carson's hand on his wrist.

"Your heart is racing, Colonel. What's wrong, lad? Talk to me." Carson insisted.

John forced his eyes open, his gaze meeting Carson's worried one. "I'm okay," he tried to reassure the doctor. "I just…" His brows wrinkled as he tried to find the words to explain what he had just experienced. "I… I know the T'eshii, don't I?"

Dark cynicism permeated Carson's expression. "Aye, ye could say that. They captured you and held you hostage last year."

John pushed at his memories, trying to get them to come together; to give him more than just an impression of pain and anger, but it was futile as even the emotions faded from his mind. "Tell me more," he insisted, but Carson shook his head in response.

"No. You must remember on your own, John. We'll help you, but we can't tell you everything; that won't help you at all. You have to try to remember, son, but you also have to give it time and go slow. Don't push yourself too hard," Carson pointed at him. "I mean it." Carson stood. "That's enough for now. Ye need to sleep. Can you go to sleep on your own, or do you need something to help?"

"Don't want to sleep," John muttered, his mind still occupied with everything he'd learned and experienced since he awoke. "Too much to think about."

"I'll take that as an affirmation of the latter option," Carson answered matter-of-factly. "Besides, you're as white as a sheet, lad. I don't suspect your head is feeling all that good." Carson walked around his bed and grabbed a bottle of medication. "Sleep is the best thing for you right now." He looked down at John, his expression imploring. "Please."

After a moment, John nodded slightly. "I do feel like crap," he admitted. He watched as Carson injected a syringe of medication into his IV. Seconds later, the familiar warm feeling flowed through him and succumbed to it.

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Ronon stopped in the doorway to the gym, crossed his arms and leaned on the door frame, the sight meeting his gaze not surprising him in the least. Across the room, Teyla was invoking a considerable amount of abuse with Bantos sticks on a practice dummy.

His gaze narrowed as he noted the sweat on her skin and the slight waver of fatigue that weakened each blow. Imperceptible to most people, Ronon still saw the hints of exhaustion as she continued her relentless assault. He pushed himself away from the doorframe and slowly walked across the gym. He grabbed a set of Bantos sticks and, giving her wide berth, walked around Teyla until he was in the line of sight for her peripheral vision. He waited as she finished a set of maneuvers, before she stopped and looked at him, her chest heaving with each fast breath.

Ronon raised his sticks. "Spar?"

She arched a cold eyebrow at him. "I do not wish to talk."

"I didn't say talk. I said spar." Ronon answered. He held his sticks in a defensive position as she turned to face him.

"Very well."

Ronon watched her lithe movements as she circled left, countering his right hand circling. He saw her stomach tense an instant before she attacked him. He deflected each of her blows, and sent a few back at her, nodding to himself in approval as she repelled them before they both stepped back, conceding a draw on the sortie.

Again, he watched her. He'd spent enough time sparring with her to get past the fact that not only was she about as good of a fighter as him, but she was also female. It'd never bothered him, he'd met enough races in the galaxy where women warriors were just as common as men, but it had taken a little getting used to as Satedan women rarely pursued the warrior's way of life. He abruptly refocused his attention as she again attacked him, her attack furious before she stepped back and circled again.

Ronon opted to stay on the defensive. This wasn't a spar to hone skills, this was something she needed, to purge some unwarranted guilt she carried… and he knew exactly what for.

"How did you find me?" She asked as she continued circling him.

"Went to the infirmary," Ronon answered. "Talked to Beckett. Figured you'd be here."

Tension stiffened her body right before she attacked, and Ronon could see it in her taut blows; each lacking the graceful aptitude he'd come to know. He parried, twisted and landed a light tap to her upper arm before dancing back away from her. "It wasn't your fault."

Teyla dropped her arms and glared at him. "Do not attempt to placate me. I should have seen it coming."

"No," Ronon hardened his tone. "You shouldn't have."

She waved a stick absently. "I have told you. I do not wish to talk."

He twirled one stick in his hand and stared hard at her. "Fine. Don't talk. Just listen. It was an ambush. No one saw it coming."

"Colonel Sheppard saw it early enough to…" her voice trailed off. "I do not wish to speak," she whispered. Her shoulders sagged and her defenses fell.

Ronon felt a twinge of sympathy as he watched the stoic warrior within Teyla, battle with the human side of her. He put both his sticks in one hand and walked over to her. Settling a strong grip on her shoulder, he hunched slightly and cocked his head, making eye contact with her. "You can't let this eat you, Teyla," he insisted softly. "I know you would've done the same for him, we all would. That's because we're a team." He tightened his grip. "You have to let it go." Without another word, Ronon stepped back and left her standing there. He knew there was nothing else he could say to convince her and he knew if he was in her situation, he'd want to be alone. Returning the sticks to the equipment bin, Ronon silently left the gym.