Down came the spider

Sheppard made his way down the corridor carefully, one hand hovering over his stomach while the other had a death grip on the bottle of painkillers Keller had passed to him, along with a stern warning to head straight to his quarters and rest.

He did not intend to rest until he had spoken to McKay or Ronon, hell even Lorne. In the four days he was confined to the infirmary they had all come and visited, but none of them would give him a straight answer to what had happened after he was bundled down the tunnel. Even Carter had been elusive in her answers, telling him to get well first and they would debrief when he felt up to it.

His sense of dread and anger had only grown at each evaded question. He appeared to be the only injured one, or at least the only one that had required an extended stay in the infirmary.

Ronon had barely said five words to him, but that was pretty normal. McKay had talked non stop, which was refreshingly normal in a way. He had chatted constantly about a lab Zelenka had found while they had been away on the mission, his excitement bouncing off him in waves. John hadn't stood a chance of getting a word in edgeways.

Lorne had put in a couple of appearances but had vanished like smoke up a chimney when John had been on the verge of ordering him to give a detailed report.

So John had had little option but to make his way to McKay's lab after his release from the infirmary, because come hell or high water, someone was going to tell him what the hell happened in those tunnels before the day ended.

"Colonel Sheppard," a voice called to him, the accent making the speaker instantly recognizable.

"Hey Doc," Sheppard greeted, slowing turning round to face Zelenka.

"You have been released from infirmary, yes?" Zelenka queried, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Yep, all legal," Sheppard confirmed, rattling the bottle of painkillers for added confirmation.

"Good, good," Zelenka replied, nodding his head, "you require help to your quarters?"

"No, I'm good. In fact, I was going to go see McKay," Sheppard said.

Zelenka gave him a quick look of concern. "Rodney has returned to his quarters. New lab is very messy." Zelenka said his whole face lit up with excitement.

"Hey, that's great, I'll catch him there," Sheppard quickly said, hoping to halt a launch into the treasures the new lab held.

Zelenka gave him a long look, a mixture of concern and suspicion before nodding. "As you wish." he started to turn away, but moved to face Sheppard again. "You will fix the problem now, yes?"

Sheppard didn't even try to misunderstand Radek's meaning. "I'm going to try Doc," he replied.

"Hopefully it is not too late," Zelenka said with a hint of hostility as he turned away from Sheppard and started down the corridor, muttering in Czech.

Sheppard watched him disappear down the corridor before slowly making his way to McKay's quarters.

By the time he had reached McKay's quarters, he was starting to wish that he had followed Keller's advice, gone back to his own quarters, and rested.

His stomach was painful and his legs felt rubbery, the need to sit down was overwhelming. He activated the chime at McKay's door, leaning his head against the frame while he waited for McKay to answer. There wasn't one. He activated the chime again, still no answer.

He banged on the door. "McKay, I know you're in there, open the damn door," he shouted. Nothing. He leant his head against the door, wishing like hell that he could just get inside and lay down for a few moments. The city responded to his ATA gene and the doors slide open, causing him to stumble through them.

He gave a grateful sigh as he walked in. He headed for the bathroom, filling a glass with water before heading back and with a sigh of relief sat down on McKay's bed. He reached over to place the glass on McKay's desk, only to have it tip and spill over the papers scattered on its surface. With a muffled curse, which turned to a groan of pain as he leapt up from the bed, he snatched up the glass and pulled wads of paper away from the growing flood.

He shook the papers to try to shake off the worse of the moisture, throwing them on the bed as he pulled another wad away from the rapidly spreading water. He was about to throw the wad onto the bed next the other papers he had already saved when certain phrases leaped of the paper at him:

…too hard …

…can't go on …

…please help me…

He grabbed the papers in both hands, sitting down on the bed. The spilt water forgotten as he read Rodney's words. Heartbreak and despair so openly conveyed in the hastily scrawled words.

He had been sat reading for sometime, all else forgotten, even the pain from his recent wound, replaced by a new pain. One that cut to his soul as he slowly came to realize what Rodney had been trying so hard to become, what he had been trying so hard not to be.

He was so engrossed that he failed to notice that the doors of McKay's quarters had opened and McKay had entered and was staring at him, emotions flickering across his face, astonishment, worry, dread, humiliation, before settling on anger.

"What the hell are you doing Sheppard?" McKay snapped out.

Sheppard's head shot up at the words, staring up at a red faced McKay.

"Rodney," he started to say, before looking down at the papers in his hands and back up to look at McKay.

Oh, shit!