I'm ba-aaack! Did you guys think I'd forgotten all about this story? So terribly sorry for yet another long delay, but I promise to post the following final two chapters within the next couple of days. Again, wow – totally chuffed by the wonderful reviews for the last chapter - again, you guys are awesome.

And here we go:

"All right, breathe in now," Carson said, leaning closer to John on the gurney and sliding the stethoscope around to his back.

John rolled his eyes, sat up a little straighter and took an exaggerated deep breath.

"Good... hold it a moment..." Carson said, all patient professionalism, "...now let it out."

John did as he was told, only wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. He took a few more deep breaths when instructed, swung his dangling legs and wished he could finally get back to some semblance of normalcy instead of this incessant fussing. Carson patted his shoulder, letting him know that he was done and stepped back to his tray of equipment. John tugged his T-shirt back down. When Carson reached for a sphygmomanometer, John held out his arm without prompting. He knew the drill all too well. He waited until the doctor read the result and unraveled the blood pressure cuff from his arm before impatience finally won out.

"Well?" John said, giving the doctor a hopeful look.

"You're doing very well," Carson answered, "remarkably well, in fact, but you know that I'm not clearing you for active duty or any gate travel for at least another two weeks. And we're not quite finished here yet." Carson reached for a thermometer and taking hold of John's chin, he placed the thermometer in his ear.

Sighing in resignation and pretending to mull over Carson's expected verdict a moment, John waited until the thermometer beeped before speaking again. "But I wouldn't have to go through a gate... or-or be... cleared for a-active duty to go to the mainland, w-would I?" he asked in what was meant to be an off-hand manner, but the effect was marred by the damned, intermittent stammering he hadn't quite managed to shake.

"Theoretically, no," Carson said, turning his back to rearrange his equipment. "But—"

"And I wouldn't... have to g-go through a... a gate to go to that planet, either, and it's almost as close," John added with a shrug.

"And which planet would that be now?" Carson inquired with equal casualness and without looking at him, but John could tell the doctor knew full well what he'd meant.

"Tosia's planet," John replied anyway, looking down at his scuffed boots. "I... I was just thinking... McKay is h-heading back there in two days with Lorne and his team..."

"Are ye tryin' to say you'd like to go along with them, John?" Carson said, turning back to him.

"Yeah, I would," John said, flashing Carson a happy grin, "thanks, doc!'

"Hold on." Carson held up a hand, shaking his head. "Just wait a minute now, I never said—"

"Oh, come on, Carson," John broke in. "It's barely a half hour trip in a jumper, and I... w-wouldn't even be flying, and i-it's not like I'll do anything strenuous." He was aware that he was starting to sound like a kid begging his mom to stay up a few hours late, but right now, he didn't care.

"I understand that you're anxious to see Tosia again," Carson said gently, "but you've been through a lot, lad, and you're still on some pretty strong medication."

"Which is m-making me totally zombified, you know," John informed Carson, scrunching his face with displeasure. What he didn't tell the doctor was that he'd been palming his medication as much as he could get away with. It wasn't a great tradeoff, but he found that he preferred the odd flashes of anxiety and dissociation to feeling as though he were sleepwalking through mud.

"John, we have to take you off the meds slowly," Carson reminded him. "Trust me, you are well on the road to recover, it's just gonna take a little more time to—"

"But I'm fine, now," John protested, "completely one h-hundred percent."

But the truth was, if John were to be completely honest with himself, it was more like seventy or eighty percent – on a good day. At least he'd finally been released from the infirmary and back in his own quarters for over a week now. He was glad of that. It made it easier to hide the nightmares that had started up on the second night and hadn't let up since. He'd wake with a jolt, screaming in terror, or calling out some stranger's name, drenched in sweat and shaking from head to foot. He could never even remember what he'd dreamt, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Some of those nights, he was able to go back to sleep. Most other nights, however, he'd remain wide-awake, hyped-up, adrenaline and unspent energy coursing through his veins. He wished he could wander the city on nights like those, or go for a run in the silent, empty corridors and wear himself out, like he used to do back when everything was normal and he couldn't sleep.

But now... he knew his insomnia would only tip off everyone to the fact that he wasn't doing quite as well as he was pretending, and so he'd ride out those long nights alone. He'd try to read, watch movies on his laptop that he'd seen far too many times to count, or play mindless video games until his fingers ached. He'd do anything but allow himself to think too much, because if he did, he knew he'd hear echoes of the Ancients' voices and see glimpses of their old memories again. They would never be completely gone, he'd come to realize – an understanding that he had no intention of sharing with anyone. Those memories were simply a part of him now, just like his own memories and experiences were. He could only hope that in time, those alien memories, like old childhood ones, or the more difficult ones you forced yourself not to dwell on too much, would begin to fade into insignificance.

He'd been doing his best to keep it together, and most of the time, he thought he was succeeding. Other times though, he'd still 'zone out,' as Rodney called it, completely losing his train of thought, or helplessly stammering in mid-sentence, as though a part of his brain was momentarily short-circuiting. John liked to blame those lapses on the damn drugs that Carson and Dr. Heightmeyer insisted he keep taking, but more likely, his mind was still having trouble sorting through everything.

In a show of good faith, John had even agreed to daily, one-hour sessions with Dr. Heightmeyer, as unnecessary and ridiculous as it seemed to him. After all, it wasn't as though he'd flipped out or anything. Based on Rodney's theory on the portal, John reasoned that he'd simply had so much information dumped in his head that he'd just gotten lost in the midst of it all. Anyone would be a little messed up after something like that. Or at least that was what John told himself. Anything more complicated or rooted in clinical psychosis was something he wasn't willing to contemplate.

After all, he had come so terrifyingly close to being shipped back home. If that had happened, John could have kissed his military career and chance of ever flying again goodbye. Shooting him would have been more merciful.

Those sessions with the psychologist went by quickly though, and John found himself telling Heightmeyer about all kinds of stupid stuff. Such things as the fact that he'd moved around so much as a kid, that he'd lost count of how many different schools he'd attended, and then along with his own pseudo-nomadic existence, he therefore had trouble forming lasting attachments. Consequently, it made it difficult for him to open up to people, but he was working on that. He'd discovered a long time ago how that little bit of self-analysis was always a good one for shrinks to play with.

He also told the doctor all about his messed up relationships and his foiled attempt at marriage. He even told her how his wife had suddenly lost it on him one night. Talk to me! Tell me something! she'd tearfully screamed at him, punching him hard in the chest to get his attention. She'd then shouted a lot of other things that John wasn't going to repeat in front of a lady and a shrink, but he remembered how he had just sat there on the couch and took it, scared and stunned by her outburst and unable to speak a single word. When they eventually signed their divorce papers, she wished him well and told him it was a shame that even though they'd been together for almost two years, she had never really know him at all. John had found himself both saddened and perplexed by the whole thing. Up until that night and the night shortly thereafter when she'd walked out on him, he had thought they were doing just fine.

And yesterday, John had somehow come around to the subject of his slight problem with authority, and he didn't have to tell Heightmeyer much about his father for both of them to surmise where that little hang-up came from. But he assured her that he was working on that, too. After all, everyone had their relatively normal issues to deal with, didn't they?

John told her anything but what he'd most recently been through. Heightmeyer, at least, seemed pleased with John's sudden ability to get in touch with his feelings. And maybe that was the whole point of the sessions, anyway. To determine if he was all there. Being John C. Sheppard again, in all his usual messed up glory. And maybe John told her about those past mistakes and regrets that he normally wouldn't speak of, even under the threat of dire torture, for that very same reason. Maybe he'd needed to prove it to himself, too.

With a start, he realized that Carson was calling his name and looking at him worriedly. Cursing under his breath, John forced his thoughts back to the here and now. Dammit, John, pull yourself together, he angrily told himself. You keep this up, they will ship you back, you idiot.

He forced himself to look into the concerned eyes of his doctor and friend. "Sorry... I – I was just thinking..." John quickly said, his heart suddenly racing. "A-about stuff. I mean, I wasn't... I'm okay."

"It's all right, John," Carson said in a soft voice. He patted John's arm in what was meant to be a reassuring gesture, but it only served to make John wonder just how messed up he appeared to everyone. "You don't have to apologize or be explainin' yourself," Carson continued. "You've been through a terrible ordeal, so give yourself a break, lad. Take it slowly."

"If I take it any more slowly, I'll be comatose," John grumbled. At the same time, the doctor's reassurances were beginning to take hold, and John bolstered his confidence to persevere with what he'd planned to talk to Carson about in the first place. "Now... about going to that planet... It would help take my mind off things, you know," he began.

"John, in a couple of weeks," Carson said with quiet patience, "you should be fit for some light duty. Then you can go to the planet and have a visit with Tosia, all right?"

John stubbornly shook his head and decided that it was time to stop hedging and just admit the real reason he needed to go to that planet so badly. "Look, doc..." he paused, then took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "Rodney t-told me that Tosia's not doing so good, and I... I mean, she saved my life. S-she went up against her own people to protect me, and... and I need to properly thank her f-for that... and I n-need to do that before..." He trailed off, unwilling to say the rest. "She doesn't have a lot of time left… does she?" he said quietly.

Carson met John's gaze, his expression downcast. "No, she doesn't." The doctor sighed. He tucked his hands in his coat pockets and looked down at the floor for a moment. He seemed to come to a decision and gave John a stern, no-nonsense look. "All right. On two conditions – you take it slow, and you don't forget to take your medication. And, you come straight back here afterwards."

John grinned, both surprised and grateful. "Deal. That's three conditions, though."

Carson eyed him. "Don't push yer luck, lad."

"Sorry," John said and tried to look contrite.

"I don't like this, but I do understand the reasoning," Carson said. "And I think she'd be thrilled to see you."

"Who would be thrilled to see him?" Rodney's voice came from behind the curtain.

"Lots of people!" John shot back. He rolled his eyes at Carson and shook his head in irritation. Rodney had been John's constant shadow of late, and while he appreciated his friend's concern, John was finding that he'd had enough of this guy bonding stuff already.

"Oh yeah?" Rodney countered. "Name one."

"I could name a lot," John drawled as he hopped down from the gurney and tucked his shirt back in his pants, "b-but I've never been one to… to kiss and tell."

"Oh, har har," Rodney said. Carson sighed and pushed back the curtain. Rodney took that as invitation to step up to the gurney and lean against it, crossing one foot over the other.

"How long were you standing out there, anyway?" John said, eyeing Rodney suspiciously.

"What?" Rodney blinked at him. "I just got here." He directed his attention to the doctor. "So, Carson, what's the verdict?" He jerked his thumb in John's direction. "How much longer do I have to actually be nice to him?"

"The verdict is," John answered even as Carson opened his mouth. "We're going to Tosia's planet on Thursday."

"What?" Rodney looked back and forth from John to Carson. "We are? He is? You're not seriously letting him fly a jumper, are you?"

"Rodney—" Carson began.

"I mean, seriously, Carson," Rodney continued undeterred. "He still has these loopy moments that remind me of my old college roommate, Brent, who smoked so much pot that he sometimes couldn't remember his own name – mind you, when he was stoned out of mind, he'd come up with the most amazing theories. There was this one—"

"McKay!" John broke in. "While th-this is all very fascinating stuff, I... I can fly a jumper practically in my sleep."

"You have flown a jumper practically in your sleep," Rodney amended.

"See?" John said, shrugging. "What's the w-worst that can happen?"

"Uh, since the jumpers respond to your every thought, let's see, you zone out, and we crash and die?"

"Besides that," John said.

"What's worse than that?"

John shot Rodney a frustrated look, momentarily at a loss for a rebuttal.

"All right, both of ye shut up now," Carson said, finally getting a chance to speak. "Rodney, I cleared John to go along with you and Lorne's team, but he is not flyin' the jumper."

Rodney nodded and looked smug. "Good. Don't take anti-psychotics and fly, has always been my motto, even if fly-boy over there doesn't subscribe to that same notion. He's always been far too over-confident for his own good."

"Hey!" John piped up, waving his hands. "You know, he is standing right in f-front of you. A-and you... you guys may have forgotten this fact, but he's not completely nuts anymore. He can actually hear you."

Rodney blinked, then glared at him. "That's not funny."

John shrugged. "It was a little funny."

"Oh, yeah, seeing you looking like Jack Nicholson after his lobotomy in Cuckoo's Nest was a laugh a minute."

"I thought I was more like a... a turnip," John said, raising an eyebrow. "Or w-was it a potato?"

Rodney stared at him, his eyes widening in horror. "Oh, god... you remember that? I didn't mean that... you know I don't mean half the stupid stuff I say..." he rambled, waving his hands, and John had to stifle a mean-spirited laugh at his friend's discomfiture. "And... and you shouldn't joke about that either!" Rodney added in an accusatory tone.

"McKay..." John waited until he had his friend's full attention. "Relax. Sometimes… life is too crappy not to joke about it."

Rodney mulled that over a moment, then had to nod in agreement. "How much do you remember anyway?"

"I… I can remember a lot of what happened… then," John answered, feeling he owed Rodney that much, but at the same time, he found it hard to look at his friend while he spoke, and so he stared down at his boots. "A lot of the time... I c-could hear all of you. Only it was like you... you were all too far away for me to reach you. Some of it..." John paused, trying to sort out what he wanted to say. Some of it he couldn't quite figure out – what had been real and what was all in his mind and only their memories. "Some of it, n-not so much," he finally said, and that was also as much as he was willing to admit.

Carson nodded. "It's not uncommon for someone in a catatonic state to be aware of what is goin' on around them."

John looked at Carson, surprised at that. "Well, that m-makes me feel a little better," he said, trying for a smirk and some levity. "I… i-it's just that... I can remember a lot of what happened back there, on that planet, and I just... I need to go there and see it again."

Rodney looked at him, his expression surprisingly empathetic. "Well... prepare to be disappointed," he said after a moment. "The place is colder than a... well, let's just say it's too damned cold. Tosia's a bit of a pain in the ass, too—"

Carson snorted. "Ach, don't be listenin' to him, John," he interrupted, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Rodney's never got on so well with anyone in his life. The old girl had him sussed out and wrapped around her little finger in about—"

"Hey!" Rodney almost shouted, glaring at the doctor. "I was humoring her, all right? She's old and... and she's sick, and even I can find it in myself to be nice to little old ladies. Especially one who's a former Ascended Ancient and willing to share information."

John raised a skeptical eyebrow at Rodney and crossed his arms over his chest. "You? Nice?"

Rodney shook his head. "Oh, here we go," he muttered under his breath.

"Now this I really gotta s-see," John said, smirking and enjoying this immensely. "Wow… Rodney actually being nice to people... Who w-would'a thought..."

"And I think I liked you better catatonic," Rodney shot back. "You were a lot quieter."

"Now who's m-making inappropriate jokes?" John said, clutching his hand over his heart in mock injury.

"You walked right into that one, bucko," Rodney said, unperturbed.

"Bucko?" John echoed incredulously. Carson watched the exchange, then grinned widely at the two of them. John and Rodney looked at the doctor, puzzled. "What?" John said, frowning, the corner of his mouth inadvertently twitching with a grin of his own.

"Just never thought I'd be glad to hear the two of ye bickering like an old married couple again," Carson said, with a shrug. Then grabbing John's arm and Rodney's sleeve in a surprisingly strong grip, he gave them both a shove toward the infirmary door. "Now, out!" Carson said in his stern doctor voice. "I have other, less bothersome patients to attend to."

--tbc--