Sorry for the slight delay, but I'm back! Titan5 – I think you left the nasty, giant thorn-ridden stick behind that good for throwing rock over there. And thanks again to all of you for the wonderfully enthusiastic reviews, and I'll try, try not to let it all go to my head so that I can actually finish this story. ;)

And just so no one yells at me, I love Tom Waits, the Violent Femmes and Abba with equal fervor, but Rodney and John seem to have differing opinions on the matter. And… here we go:

Rodney looked at Tosia, waiting for a reaction, for disbelief, tears, anger. Anything. But she just sat there on a hard, metal chair by the desk in her old lab in the city, her back rigid, scarred face blank and expressionless as she stared at the cargo transporter. The now useless transporter.

Not surprisingly, at least to one as intrinsically cynical as Rodney, their potential exploration was over almost as soon as it had started.

Rodney and Tosia, along with Radek, Ronon and Teyla, had made their way to the lab first thing in the morning and less than an hour ago. Tosia had insisted on walking the entire way from the infirmary to the sub-basement levels of the city, not giving any direction, only expecting them to follow her. Which they did. As forthcoming as she'd been about the city's technology, Tosia had been conspicuously vague as to where exactly this so-called lab of hers was.

"I guess this experiment of yours wasn't very high on the Atlantean priority list, huh?" Rodney had smirked as they took the transporter elevator down, down and down, seemingly into the very bowels of the city. "Kinda the equivalent of an office with no window?"

Tosia had chosen to ignore the questioning jibe, but Teyla shot him another one of her patented glares. Ronon kept worriedly eyeing the old woman as though he expected her to faint at any moment, and Radek had tucked himself in the corner and stared up at the ceiling, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

When they came to the dim corridor, they had to avoid small puddles still drying in places. Tosia led them to a doorway that was almost at the end of the long hallway and then told Rodney the combination that would open the locked door. And as they stepped inside the cluttered, waterlogged room, Rodney didn't take much time to look at the equipment – that he'd do later when he could give it his full attention – instead, he and Radek had immediately checked out the cargo transporter.

On Tosia's instruction that the transporter doors would immediately open on the other side when an object was sent through it, Rodney placed a running video camera on the floor of the device and activated it. A few seconds later, he pressed the control panel to bring it back. The doors opened and Rodney jumped aside as a small avalanche of dirt and debris poured out of the transporter, onto the still damp floor and around his feet. Cursing under his breath, Rodney had to dig through the dirt that remained inside to find his camera.

Blowing dirt and dust from the lens, Rodney set the camera to play back the short transmission – halfway expecting it not to work, but it did. First there was only static, and then there was a dark blur that Rodney, after a moment, recognized as a large boulder resting heavily on the jutting end of a collapsed pillar. Both lay directly outside the transporter's open doors, blocking it off. Dirt and debris poured in and around the chamber, and the screen went dark, but they could still hear the rushing sound of dirt raining down.

Without looking at the others, Rodney tried the transporter again. The doors slid shut, the machine groaned, the power winked off and on, then shut down. All they had to show for their efforts was a pile of alien dirt.

"Well... so much for that," Rodney said, frustrated.

"I am sorry, Tosia," Teyla said, placing her small hand on the old woman's shoulder. At the light, gentle touch, Tosia blinked and startled, as though broken from a trance. When Teyla softly asked if she were all right, Tosia visibly forced herself to relax her posture, nodded and gave Teyla a shaky smile.

"The vibrations when John and I went through must have brought the rest of it down," Tosia said, and ran a trembling hand through her hair. "And now…that was the final straw. It is all gone, buried as it was meant to be. Lasca and Antal must think that…" She shook her head, raised her hand to her mouth, silencing what she had been about to say.

"At least you and John were able to arrive here safely," Teyla said, and the platitude made Rodney roll his eyes.

"Oh, come on," he said, crossing his arms, "it's not like she's stuck here forever. Not yet anyway."

"We could try reaching the planet by jumper," Radek said, shrugging.

"Yes, we could," Rodney said, flashing the other man a false, grating smile. "What ever would I do without your brilliant flashes of genius, Radek? I wish I'd thought of that!"

Radek crossed his arms and glared up at Rodney from under his glasses. "It is called making conversation, Rodney. Perhaps you should try it sometime, yes?"

"What for?" Rodney scowled at the other man, perplexed.

"Oh, yes. I forget - you have no use for 'underlings and meaningless chatter,'" Radek said, quoting what Rodney had snarled at him a little over a week ago.

Rodney was about to fully agree with his own statement, when he noticed Tosia looking back and forth at the two of them. And as she watched them, Rodney saw something steel in her, a ray of hope filling her clouded eyes.

"Yes, there are the gateships," she said in a firm voice, halting the impending argument in its tracks. "If we are to properly help my people, we will need to use one anyhow. I suggest that we make haste and get to work right away."

Rodney stared at her a moment, unaccustomed to being ordered around – by little old ladies, yet. "Give me… an hour," he said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "I'll figure it out." But before that, maybe he could check out some of the boxes piled on the shelves and maybe, carefully, analyze whatever was left in some of the few bottles that were still miraculously intact. He wandered over to the shelf and resisted the urge to start rifling through a box filled with what looked like dismantled Ancient machinery.

Tosia raised an eyebrow, her fierce gaze following him. "I am certain you can figure it out, Rodney, but do you not think it will go much faster if I showed you where to look for the planet? The exact coordinates have been documented in my files."

"Oh…" Rodney breathed out, chastened for the moment. "Well... I… I figured as much, from the map I found, but I haven't read that far yet."

"In that case, perhaps we should go look at it now," Tosia said, her tone leaving no room for dispute. A rush of sudden urgency to return to her family and her people gave her additional strength as she pulled herself to her feet. Without a word, she tottered toward the door, then paused, surprised, when it opened for her – Rodney had surreptitiously disabled the combination at the same he'd opened it.

"I take it we're leaving now, huh?" he called after Tosia as she disappeared into the corridor. Moving to follow the old woman, Teyla shot him another scathing look over her shoulder. "Oh, will you stop that already!" Rodney groused, tearing a hand through his hair and shaking his head. Teyla ignored him and strode outside the room after Tosia.

Ronon who had been so silent and still that Rodney had almost forgotten he was even in the room, looked at him and shrugged. "Women," he said, as if that explained everything.

Actually, it did, Rodney realized. "Yeah," he said. "Alien women. Which are far, far worse."

Radek muttered something in Czech, nodding as though in full agreement with them. With that, the three followed the incomprehensible women into the corridor.

---A---

It didn't take long to go over Tosia's file and map out the coordinates to the planet, which Rodney would later transfer to a jumper. Despite their irritation with one another, Rodney was surprised how well he and the old woman worked together. And despite her age, Tosia was still sharp as a tack and as prickly as one too. Rodney had to admit to grudging respect over that.

Once they were done, Tosia asked him to help her back to her bed in the infirmary, pleading the need for a rest. Rodney threw down his scribbled notes and rolled his eyes. Never mind that Teyla specialized in looking after little old ladies, that Radek was dying to brainstorm with the old woman over the inexplicable fluctuations in their backup generators, or that Ronon could carry her draped over his finger. No, Tosia just had to have Rodney, and Rodney alone, to bring her back. He grumbled token protests that he knew would do nothing to dissuade her, and grudgingly agreeing, he heaved himself to his feet with a beleaguered sigh.

As they walked, she took his arm, leaning heavily against him, and Rodney could feel her trembling with exhaustion. He slowed his steps and moved a little closer to her, in case she stumbled.

"Thank you for your help today, Rodney. I am very grateful to you – to all of you for being so willing to help my people," she said.

"Yeah, well... we sort of owe you one... I suppose."

She tightened her grip on his arm and paused a moment. Rodney looked at her, worried, when her already waxen features paled even further. She waved off his concern and slowly began walking again.

"Yesterday... I said some things that upset you," she said a little breathlessly and without looking at him, "and for that I apologize."

Rodney blinked, caught off-guard. "Upset? Me? I hardly even remember what we talked about," he scoffed. In truth, he recalled every single painful and condemning word of that conversation.

"It must be very difficult to see John in such a state," she continued, undeterred. "Back there, in the ruins... he kept digging and digging in the cold, hard ground, even when his poor hands were torn to shreds... He was so determined to find his way home," she said, admiration and concern for Sheppard ringing loud and clear in her voice. "But he is still lost, Rodney. He needs those who care about him to help him find his way back."

"We are looking after him," Rodney said curtly, understanding at once the reason Tosia had wanted to get him alone. But he didn't want to get into this again. He didn't want to think about Sheppard practically maiming himself to get home. He didn't want to think about Sheppard at all. They'd been through this already, and Rodney had no intention of going another round.

"Your lives are so very short," Tosia said softly, "I do not think you realize just how quickly it is all over. It is much too short a time to be filled with regrets and remorse that weigh heavily on the conscience."

Rodney glanced at her, renewed irritation surging within him. "My conscience is doing just fine, thanks, Jiminy," he quickly said, but he didn't sound very convincing to his own ears. Tosia stared up at him with a look that saw straight through him, and Rodney turned his head slightly, away from her scrutiny. "So, tomorrow... we'll take a trial run to the planet," he said as casually as possible. "If all goes well, we should have you back home in no time."

"Yes, I look forward to that," Tosia said, the topic thankfully diverted. "My daughter and grandson... they must be so terribly worried."

By that time, they had reached the infirmary, for which Rodney was even more grateful. Tosia released his arm, and then surprised him once more by reaching for his hand. He didn't resist when she clasped his strong hand in her small, trembling one, holding it tight.

"What happened to John was not your fault," she said in a soft, but firm voice. "I am certain that he does not blame you, so stop blaming yourself, Rodney."

Tosia released his hand and for once, Rodney found himself at a complete loss for words. Even if he could think of something to say, he didn't think he'd be able to speak around the tight lump in his throat. As Tosia made her way to her bed on her own, Rodney watched her a moment, then turned to look at the far back corner where Sheppard's own bed lay.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to look in on him, he thought. Just for a second, just so that everyone, namely Tosia, would get off his back. Rodney took two steps in that direction and then remembered that he'd forgotten all about checking in with his staff that morning. As he turned away, a mingling of guilt and fury at his own cowardice seized hold of him and wouldn't let go. It wasn't quite strong enough to stop him though, and he continued without pause for the infirmary doors.

And then he nearly ran smack into the very person he'd been trying so hard to avoid. Walking on the toes of his shoes, John wandered right past Rodney without registering his presence. He reached the gurney nearest the door and then, turning in an oddly graceful about face, came back five steps. Only to turn and repeat the motion again, and again.

Wide-eyed, his stomach clenching, Rodney froze in place, helplessly watching his friend, or at least what was left of him. Dressed in a heavy black sweater, a pair of gray sweatpants and running shoes, Sheppard at least appeared a little less like an extra from 'One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest.' He looked almost… normal, even. That was, until you looked into his vague eyes, or noticed the lack of animation in his face, or allowed yourself to acknowledge the manic pacing.

Somehow, John must have felt the weight of his appalled stare because he slowed his steps and looked up at Rodney, his brow creasing, as though he were puzzling over who he was.

Rodney ducked his head, turned away from John's quizzical appraisal and shoved his way through the infirmary doors, looking neither left, nor right. He had too much work to do and had absolutely no time for this. He ran a hand over his face, and shit, he realized that he was shaking a little. This was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous. A few steps later, not even halfway down the hall, a shadow flickered at the corner of his eye. He glanced over his shoulder, and almost tripped over his own feet.

"Sheppard! For God's sakes!" Rodney threw his hands in the air, his heart skipping a beat. John had been following so close behind him that he nearly plowed into Rodney's back. Even freaking catatonic, the man moved in stealth mode. "That's two heart attacks now!" Rodney shouted.

John flinched, stumbling a few steps away from him, and Rodney immediately felt like an asshole of the puppy kicking variety. He took a deep breath, willed himself to calm down, then carefully took hold of John's arm, and began to lead him back to the infirmary. He was surprised when John more than willingly came along with him.

They were met by Carson who had been standing in the middle of the room, looking frazzled.

"Oh, thank you, Rodney," he breathed out, relieved, when he saw John. "I can't get him to stay put."

"Yeah, well… he's all yours." Rodney positioned John directly in front of the doctor. He placed both hands on John's shoulders, then pointed a finger in his face. "Stay."

"He's not a dog, Rodney," Carson said, giving him an odd, bemused look.

"I don't know…" Rodney countered, "he's doing a damned good impression of this dumb old mutt I used to have."

"Rodney…" Carson breathed out in admonishment. "Look since you're here, do ye mind keepin' an eye on him for a while?" he added, hopeful. "He's pacin' all over the place, and I have a couple of patients come down with a bad stomach bug, and he's makin' them nervous. I don't have the heart to confine him to a room as restless as he is…"

"Well... give him something to calm him down, or... or something," Rodney said, waving a hand in John's direction. "I mean... you are treating him, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm treatin' him, but the type of injury and trauma that he suffered does not go away overnight – you know that. I can't even begin to take guess at his prognosis, but right now, he's having a rough time of it, and it would be extremely helpful if you could keep him company for a little while."

"But I have work to do!" Rodney protested, even as John stepped closer beside him, so close that his arm was almost brushing against Rodney's. "Can't you ask Teyla… or... or Elizabeth? Or Ronon, even—"

"But you're here now," Carson said, exasperated. "And for some unknown, possibly masochistic reason, John's more than willin' to go along with you now, and he responds well to you."

"I'm just not… any good with… with… sick people," Rodney said, glancing at Sheppard who had started rocking in place, staring into space and seemingly oblivious to the conversation. "Teyla – now, Teyla's great at that stuff."

"Rodney, I don't know why, but you've been doin' a bloody good job of avoidin' him like the plague ever since he got back – he's not contagious, if that's what you're worryin' about."

"I know that!" Rodney snapped and felt heat rising in his face. He hadn't thought he'd been that obvious. Did Tosia send around a memo, or something?

"Why don't you go for a walk with him," Carson suggested. "He usually follows right along, and the exercise and familiar surroundings will do him some good. Do ye think you can manage a walk, Rodney?"

"Yes, I can manage a walk, Carson," Rodney sneered. "But—"

"Good," Carson said, pleased, and bounced on the toes of his boots. "I'll see you both in about half an hour." He bustled off to check on a patient who was so huddled under the covers that it was impossible to tell who it was.

"Half an hour?" Rodney called after Carson. Without looking back, the doctor waved his hand in a shooing gesture. "Oh, for Christ's sakes," Rodney muttered under his breath. He was willing to bet any amount of money that Tosia and Carson were in cahoots with one another. "Right, it's not like I don't have anything better to do…" He looked at John. "Sooo, Sheppard, what do you want to do? A walk, like the man says, or how about a game of poker instead? Chess? Charades?"

John folded his arms over his chest, looked up the ceiling, and Rodney waited for the lights to start flashing again. When nothing happened, and John kept looking up at nothing, Rodney shook his head and took a deep breath.

"Oh, let's just get this over with," he groused. He only had to nudge John's arm to get him to come along, and as they walked down the corridors, Rodney tried to pretend that this was just an ordinary day in Atlantis. He chattered on about anything and everything he could think of, and John walked alongside him in that strange tiptoed gait, running his fingers along the wall. Rodney couldn't believe that Carson had actually roped him into this.

They went by the east pier and for the first time, John showed a little interest in his surroundings. He ambled over to the window, placing his hands against the cool glass, muttering softly to himself. Then before Rodney could react, John found the door, darted outside and to the railing.

"Whoa!" Rodney shouted, racing after him. What was the attraction of this damned particular balcony, anyway? Then he noticed the jumper whooshing along in the sky. "Sheppard, wait!"

John pressed his legs up against the railing, and leaned his upper body over it, neck craned to stare up at the sky as the jumper disappeared into the atmosphere.

"Jesus! Don't move! John!" Rodney grabbed a fistful of the back of John's sweater, and with his other hand, reached around the other man's chest, and hauled him back.

John stumbled, struggled a moment, and then leaned up against him, settling for waving a bandaged hand over the horizon. "Fly."

"Not today you're not," Rodney gasped in a shaky voice, his heart racing. He kept a firm arm around Sheppard's chest. God. Make that three heart attacks now.

John muttered something again, still staring up at the sky. After a moment, he turned his head to look at Rodney, frowning. "Fly?" he repeated, watching Rodney carefully, as though willing him to understand. When Rodney only looked at him, confounded, John pushed away from him, roughly shaking his head and making a frustrated sound through gritted teeth.

"Yes, yes, okay! Fly!" Rodney said. "Jumpers, bird, lunatics. Whatever." When John gave him a perplexed look, Rodney softened. "You used to fly one of those jumpers, too. Do you remember that?" John only gazed back at the cloudy sky that seemed to blend into the vast sea. Keeping one hand firmly wound in the sleeve of John's sweater, Rodney glanced at his watch. All of five minutes had passed, but he'd be damned if he'd bring Sheppard back to the infirmary now and have to deal with Carson and Tosia's scorn. After all, a guy had to maintain some semblance of pride, didn't he? Looking at John, he said, "What do you say we go hang out in my office for a while, huh? Less things for you to jump off there."

Sheppard scowled at him then nodded once, and Rodney tried to take that as a good sign.

And once safely inside his small and the first time he'd noticed, windowless office, Rodney shut the door behind them and bolted it so that Sheppard couldn't dart outside on him. Rodney hunched over his laptop, figuring he may as well check his emails while he was here. He kept one eye on John, who'd immediately sat himself down on the floor, and slumped against the wall facing him. Frowning, his features pinched, John began to very lightly thump the back of his head against the wall. Rodney thought that maybe he should stop him, but since it didn't look as though John was hurting himself any, he decided to leave him be.

Rodney wondered if John had any memory of the many times he'd hung out in this office, watching Rodney work, making a game of how long he could pester his friend until he got himself kicked out. Rodney never thought that he would come to miss that. Sheppard was now so quiet as to be unnoticeable, and Rodney found it strange that his silence was far more distracting than any of the immature jokes, jibes or stupid arguments that always ended up with both of them cheerfully calling each other every derogatory name they could think of.

With sudden and startling clarity, Rodney remembered their last conversation here – Sheppard had been trying to convince him that Tom Waits was a 'musical genius,' despite the fact that Rodney thought the man sounded like he'd been gargling with razor blades. To which Sheppard reiterated that Rodney's scratched old Violent Femmes CD that was playing in the background at the time was 'weird and whiny.' That, of course, turned into a full-fledged debate over who had the least amount of serious musical appreciation, which led to Rodney accidentally admitting that the first album he had ever bought was Abba's self-titled one. Before he could explain that he'd bought it for Jeannie's birthday, Sheppard was in full pestering glory and in a surprisingly good voice, began singing, 'Mama Mia' at the top of his lungs, no matter that he didn't even know the lyrics. Rodney had ended up shoving him, still singing, out the door and slamming it behind him.

Later that same day, they had gone to the mainland, and found the portal. Rodney couldn't believe that possibly the last halfway intelligent conversation he'd ever have with his best friend was such a pathetically inane one.

Forcing the terrible realization from his mind, Rodney sifted through the pages of messages in his inbox and tried to lose himself in his task. Without thinking, or taking his eyes off the screen, he pulled a candy bar from his pocket, unwrapped it, and started munching. After a few bites, he noticed John's eyes following the motion of his hand to his mouth.

"You hungry?" he asked around a mouthful. John kept looking at him, which Rodney took as a possible 'maybe.' He broke off a piece, crouched down in front of his friend and offered it to him. John just stared at it. Feeling somewhat ridiculous, Rodney held the piece of chocolate to John's mouth, pressing it lightly against his lips. John's brows pulled together, his tongue flicked out, tasting it, and then he opened his mouth, carefully accepting it and slowly chewing.

Grinning, Rodney couldn't help an odd sense of triumph, like he'd just coaxed a wild bird into eating out of his hand. Shaking his head at how pathetic a victory it was, he stuffed the rest of the bar in John's bandaged hand and curled his fingers around it. When John just held onto it, Rodney moved the man's pliant arm up and down. "Eat? You know, bite, chew, swallow. Come on, you've been doing it for years."

Keeping his eyes on Rodney's, John slowly raised the candy bar to his mouth, took a small bite then let it drop from his fingers and onto the floor.

Well, it was a little progress, Rodney thought. Yeah, right. Doing just great, Sheppard. "One step up from a turnip, huh, buddy?" he muttered.

"Turnip," John said, looking straight at him.

Rodney stared in horror at his friend, shocked by his own stupidity. "Nonono… forget I said that," he quickly corrected. "You're not a turnip. You're much livelier, much, much better than a turnip."

"Better n'turnip…"

"Stop that!" Rodney ordered, pointing a warning finger at John. "I told you to forget I said that, remember? There are no turnips in this room."

John scowled at him a moment before his gaze drifted. He seemed to focus on something then clambered to his feet.

"What?" Rodney said, turning in the direction John's gaze seemed to be fixated. All Rodney could see was his cluttered bookshelf – tattered file folders stuffed to the point of overflowing, dirty coffee mugs, scattered bits of computer parts.

John stumbled to the shelf, fumbled at something and a cheerful, chirpy disco beat blasted the small room. Rodney yelped and clamped his hands to his ears. Then he recognized the opening verse: I've been cheated by you since I don't know when... He stared at Sheppard in astonishment and outrage.

"Wh-where did you get that!" he sputtered. "You… you snuck back here and slipped that in my stereo, didn't you?" Rodney shouted over the music, pointing at the half-buried portable CD player. "Before we left for the mainland… didn't you?"

John grinned and for a heart-stopping moment, he seemed so Sheppard... so damn normal.

Rodney stared at him, hopeful, and then realized that John was looking straight through him, rather than at him. John ambled back to his previous spot and sat sprawled on the floor. He leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes, his features relaxed, almost peaceful.

Rodney gritted his teeth, turned the stereo down a notch and went back to his laptop. Without realizing it, he began tapping his foot in time to the music as he tried reading a few more messages. When he caught himself singing along with the chorus, Mamma Mia, here I go again, he cursed under his breath. Jeannie had played that stupid song so many times that Rodney had finally stolen it and used it in one of his chemistry experiments. Just as the song began to play again, his radio beeped at him and a voice came over the earpiece.

"Oh, thank God," he breathed out.

Carson's voice said something that Rodney couldn't make out. "What?" he shouted over the music.

"Where in God's name are you, Rodney?" Carson yelled back. "It sounds like a nightclub in there. You can bring John back now. It's almost time for his medication."

Rodney glanced at his watch, surprised that nearly forty-five minutes had passed. "I promise, we'll be right there."

He stood and snapped the stereo off. The resulting silence made his head buzz in relief. John sat up and placed his hands over his ears. He muttered something under his breath and Rodney crouched down close to him, trying to make out what he was saying.

"Too loud..." John whispered, "too loud... stop..."

"What do you mean it's too loud?" Rodney said, perplexed. "I just shut the damn thing off. And if you weren't such a freaking basketcase right now, I swear the payback for hijacking my CD player would be huge."

John shook his head from side to side, then looked straight at Rodney. "Too loud," he insisted.

"What's too loud, dammit?"

John snarled in frustration then banged the back of his head against the wall. Hard.

"Hey!" Rodney grabbed John's arm. "Don't!"

John yanked his arm free and jerked backwards, once more smacking his head with a sickening thud. Rodney yelled and reached for him, but before he could stop him, John again slammed his head hard enough to rattle the items on the shelves. Panicked, Rodney grabbed John by his upper arms and hauled him to his feet. John tugged against his grip, shouting in wordless protest.

"Sheppard, cut it out!" Rodney shouted, struggling to keep hold of his friend. John twisted around, his elbow slamming into Rodney's ribs. Rodney yelped in pain. "Dammit, John! Stop it!" he gasped, pushing John a little harder than intended. The momentum caused John to stumble and fall to his knees. He looked up at Rodney, his eyes wide, his expression somehow both confused and utterly bereft.

"Stop…" he said in a tremulous voice.

Rodney just stood there a moment, his side stinging, his eyes watering. Then he sank to his knees in front of his friend, helplessly dropping his hands to his thighs. "Aw, shit... John..." he said. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry."

John ducked his head, curling his upper body over his legs. "Stopstopstop... they won't stop, Rodney."

Rodney stared at him, stunned that John had directly spoken to him. "Who won't stop?" When John began rocking, his motions almost frenetic, Rodney grabbed his shoulders with both hands, stilling him. "Sheppard, who are you talking about?" He waited a moment, but John only groaned and shook his head. "Sheppard, answer me, dammit." He pushed John upright and gave him a slight, but firm shake. "Tell me what the hell you're talking about!"

John finally looked at him, and Rodney was surprised to see that his hazel eyes were filled with tears. "Thought they would s-stop..." John said, his voice and chin trembling, "but they won't... even here... th-they won't stop... I – I can't..."

Anything else he said was lost in a shuddery, hitching breath and then another. A tear spilled down John's cheek, and Rodney felt a sudden pricking behind his own eyes. John raised a hand to tug at his hair, and for the first time, Rodney realized that it was much longer than he'd ever seen it. He pulled John's hand away, gently disentangling his fingers from the dark strands. He noticed that the bruise around John's eye had faded to swirls of greenish yellows and pale pinks, and all at once Rodney was ashamed of himself for turning his back on his friend for so long. He reached around John's too-thin shoulders and pulled him close. John leaned against him, his chin digging into Rodney's shoulder, his shuddering breaths rasping in his ear. Rodney rubbed John's back, dismayed that he could easily feel his ribs even under the heavy sweater.

"You gotta snap out of this, buddy," Rodney whispered for fear that if he spoke any louder his voice would break. "You're going to snap out of this, and we're going to get you past this," he told his friend. "And you're going to be okay, because I won't accept anything less than that."

John curled his fingers in Rodney's shirt and held on tight. When Carson called over the radio again, Rodney ignored him. Sheppard's medication could wait a few more minutes. Everything could wait just a few more damn minutes.

---tbc---