Author's note:- apologies to those who thought I'd abandoned this story. I've just been having a bad time- muse wise. Anyway I'll try to be quicker. I hope you like it. - J

Chapter 3: We don't know.

"You shot him," there was the briefest of pauses before Rodney added, "again!" He looked across worriedly to where the med team were working on Sheppard, before turning his attention back to Ronan. "What is it with you? Do you get some sort of kick out of stunning your team leader or something, because you seem to do it a lot," he emphasised the last two words.

Ronan's expression was implacable as usual. "He seemed a little unstable, and he shot at me. I thought it was the safest way."

"Safest for whom," McKay challenged. "He only shot at you because you startled him." He paused for a standard McKay, 'I appreciate you're a mere mortal so I need to state the obvious' stare, before continuing "And he missed," the frustration in his tone was clear. "He wasn't likely to shoot again once he saw who you were. There was no need. . ."

"Safest for him," Ronan interrupted. "That young marine," he glanced in the direction of the young man in question, who was busy reporting to his immediate superior in the corner of Sheppard's increasingly crowded quarters. " Looked like he had an itchy trigger finger, and his gun wouldn't have just stunned him."

"Oh," McKay stated

"Besides," Ronan cast an uncharacteristically worried glance, this time in Sheppard's direction. "Did you see the look in his eyes? There's no telling what he might have done."

Damn, so Ronan had seen it too. McKay was half hoping that he'd imagined it. He didn't really have the experience. . .not wholly true, he'd been there twice before, seen that look, heard that tone, twice before. 'You didn't recognise it then. Why should you recognise it now?'

He wanted to accept the thought, he really did, but the truth was he had recognised it, at least on some level. When Michael Trent, brilliant student, only a year older than him, and, of course, not quite on his level, but none the less brilliant, when he'd said that he couldn't take the practical exam, he hadn't understood.

Trent's problem had always been that only perfection was good enough, and practical activities were rarely perfect. The real world had a habit of throwing curve balls in your path as a matter of course. Trent couldn't accept that. He'd told Rodney, but Rodney hadn't understood, at least not before. . .

It was a rather melodramatic suicide in the middle of the practical exam, two sharp pencils one for each nostril, a near silent shove down onto the bench, and, McKay remembered, remarkably little blood, at least not by the time the room had been cleared. They were all given a pass on the exam, only slightly annoying for those who'd been heading for a distinction, but the look in his eyes, his tone when he'd said he couldn't take it. McKay had assumed it was the exam, and not the imperfections of the world. He'd been wrong, but he remembered the tone, remembered the look. . . and then there was Gault, still too close, too painful, too raw. . . and now there was Sheppard, and although he wanted to deny it, he had seen it again.

Had he?

Sheppard wouldn't have shot at anyone else, but would he have. . .? As much as McKay wanted to deny it, there had been something. Oh God! Not Sheppard, he wouldn't, he couldn't. . .and yet. . . God, the fear and despair in his eyes. Sheppard would do anything to protect others and. . .

Ronan had only been in the room for two minutes, and he had seen it too. McKay caught Teyla's eye and as usual her expression spoke volumes. He had never known anyone who spoke so little and said so much. She had seen it, was as afraid as he was to admit it, was as afraid as he was to deny it. Ronan had done the right thing, stunning him before they had chance to find out for sure.

"We need to find out what happened to him." McKay said as he watched Sheppard being placed on the gurney and wheeled from the room. He didn't have to even look at the others or hear them speak to know that they agreed wholeheartedly.

SGASGA

They stood in the infirmary waiting room; it was a familiar position for all of them, but the fact that any news would not be delivered in a soft Scottish brogue, exposed still raw feelings for all three. That and their current concern for Sheppard formed an air of brooding tension. Ronan was the closest to relaxing. He leant against a wall arms crossed, only one foot on the floor the other resting flat against the wall. Teyla was opposite, arms almost folded across her front. Both stared at the floor, neither saw it.

Rodney of course was in perpetual motion. He had his laptop open, balanced across one arm, and was periodically tapping the keys to change the information on the screen. He hit his earpiece to speak to Zelenka again. "OK, I just heard back from Martins, there's nothing in his quarters so it must be on that ship." There was a pause. "Well, maybe I should come down and help you. There's nothing I. . ." He paused again for an obvious interruption. "No, there's no word yet we're still waiting for Dr. Keller," he glanced towards the waiting room door as though mentioning her name might make her magically appear. "She hasn't gotten back to us yet," pause. "Yes, I do want to be here if he wakes up," pause. "Yes I know you took that dart to pieces when. . .well with the whole Cadman incident," pause. "Well of course I trust you. It's just. . . "pause. "No, you're right, get back to me if you find anything."

Rodney clicked the radio to off and stared forwards for a moment. Being here was frustrating, he really ought to be applying his mind to finding out what was going on, but he knew that Zelenka was right, until he had something positive on Sheppard's condition he probably wouldn't be able to focus, and he might be able to find something out from Sheppard himself. If he could speak to him, if. . . . He felt a soft touch on his shoulder and turned. He hadn't heard Teyla's approach.

"They have not found anything to explain what has happened to John?" she questioned.

Rodney shook his head allowing the frustration to show. "Nothing," he confirmed. He looked down at the screen. "As far as we can tell all of the scans we've done are normal."

Teyla gave a small nod. "Maybe it was something that happened while we were on the planet." She nodded towards Ronan. "We could go back see if we could find anything." Ronan pushed himself away from the wall at the suggestion. He didn't relish wondering around dark tunnels again fighting Michael's pets, on the other hand it beat standing around being useless while Sheppard was. . well while whatever the hell it was that was happening to Sheppard was happening.

Rodney shook his head. "Too, dangerous. Dr Weir would never let you go. It was hard enough getting her to agree to allow us to bring the Wraith Dart back here to examine. She's not going to risk anyone going back to that planet unless we have a more solid reason." Rodney looked across at the door again. "Maybe Sheppard'll be able to tell us something." He took a step towards the door. "What's taking so long? He should be awake now right?" He turned to look at Ronan.

The tall Satedan nodded. "The stun blast should have worn off by now," he confirmed.

"But he had lost a lot of blood, and the wound on his neck. . ." Teyla interjected.

"Yeah I've been wondering how. . ."

"He did it himself," the softly spoken, almost hesitant, female voice said from behind, causing Rodney to spin on the spot.

Dr. Jennifer Keller took an equally hesitant step forward as Sheppard's team moved to intercept her. She swallowed; she was already well out of her comfort zone. She appreciated the need to be able to talk to friend's and relatives, but it was the part of the role that she liked the least, and now that she was in charge, it was a burden that she knew would fall to her more often. God, she wasn't ready for this. She knew how close this group were, to each other, to Beckett. It was a set of shoes she was never going to fill, wasn't sure why she was even trying. . .

"Dr. Keller," Teyla prompted gently. "You have some news for us?"

"Of course she has some news," Rodney interrupted before Dr. Keller could reply. "That's why she's standing here in blood covered scrubs. . ." he paused, staring down, his face going a paler shade, as his rapidly processing mind ran through different scenarios, and his mouth operated almost independently. Random parts of his thought process turning into sound. "The very blood covered scrubs," he observed. He was close to babbling and he knew it. He needed to shut up so that the Doctor could tell him how John was. He needed to stop saying things and yet his mouth was still moving. "That's why she came in here. . . to talk to us."

Teyla looked at him patiently, recognising all to well the panicked action borne of concern. Only two things could induce it. Fear for his own safety, and fear for John. "Then why do you not let the doctor tell us?"

"Yes," Rodney said, "Of course, shutting up now."

Teyla turned her patient smile back to Dr. Keller. "Doctor?"

"He's stable," Dr. Keller stated, starting with the most reassuring part of her report. "He lost a lot of blood from the neck wound, and it took us a while to get it stitched back up but I think he'll make a full recovery from that."

"You say it was self inflicted?" Ronan asked.

Dr. Keller nodded. "With his bare hands." She paused for a moment. "He's not making a lot of sense but as far as I can tell he was trying to pull some sort of bug off."

The whole team reacted to the comment, even Ronan who knew enough of what had happened to Sheppard from the story he'd heard.

"Iratus Bug," Rodney breathed the words.

Teyla looked at him seriously. "Is it possible that our recent encounter with these bugs has merely disturbed deep seated fears?"

In all of the things Rodney had been thinking had happened to Sheppard in the last hour, of all of the possibilities, the idea that this was some sort of breakdown just hadn't occurred to him. He'd had teams looking for an external cause to explain his behaviour, something that had been done to him. "A breakdown?" he asked the question out loud and then shook his head vehemently. "Not Sheppard, no way, you've seen what he's been through, what he's faced." He shook his head again. "No, I don't believe it."

Ronan also shook his head. "Not Sheppard."

Dr. Keller looked uncomfortable. "Well I haven't ruled out some sort of psychotic break. I've consulted with Dr. Heightmeyer and she's still doing an evaluation, but I think you're right there is something more, but until we know what. . . ?"

"Can I see him?" Rodney asked, the others didn't need to, the question clearly reflected in their eyes.

Dr. Keller nodded. "I can give you each a few minutes, no more, he's still quite weak and. . . ." She paused again her gaze drifting to the ground for a moment, before she looked back up. "The other thing you should know that he's said." She drew in a breath. "He said he wants me to kill him."

TO BE CONTINUED. . . .

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