And it's up! Another big thanks to Oparu--and sorry, but I don't know how long it'll take before another chapter's up due to ScriptFrenzy. YOU SHOULD ALL DO IT. -hypnotizes- ScriptFrenzy(dot)org...gotta love it. :)

Rodney McKay's head hurt. His arms weren't cooperating with his request to rub his forehead, but he didn't think much of it. His head was his highest priority. The rest of his body didn't hurt, but that was not immediately puzzling.

"Carson," he croaked, hoping it would come out as more annoyed than pathetic. He swallowed what little was in his mouth and tried again. "Carson!"

The Scottish doctor came running, which should have worried Rodney, but he wasn't really thinking clearly. "Rodney! Are you—are you okay?" He shoved a straw into Rodney's mouth, and though he could drink, he couldn't feel the water go past his throat.

Rodney glared at him. "No, I'm not," he insisted. "I think my arms are asleep, and my head hurts. Don't you have any painkillers?" It didn't register at first, but as he tried to shift his legs, he stopped. "My legs, too."

Carson looked at him softly. "I'm sorry, Rodney," he said, sounding more pained than Rodney had ever heard him.

Rodney was confused. "Wait, what? What are you sorry for? You didn't—you didn't cut off my arms, did you?" He checked under the sheet. "No, still there. Hey, what's that bandage around my stomach? And why can't I feel it? What's going on? Beckett!"

Carson swallowed. "Rodney, I believe you're paralyzed from the neck down. I'm sorry, but we tried all we could. You're lucky all your limbs are still attached."

"What?" he shrieked, his face contorting in terror. "I'm paralyzed?"

"From the neck down," Carson reassured him, but he knew it wouldn't help. "And you lost your liver, but fortunately we replaced it with Rodriguez's. We still have to monitor you to make sure your body accepts it."

Rodney coughed in shock. "You mean I have a dead man's body parts in me?! And I can't move?! How am I supposed to do anything? What is wrong with you people? Don't you understand I need my body?!"

"Yes, we understand that, Rodney," Carson answered, his voice surprisingly patient. He understood Rodney didn't really mean it. "That's why you still have your body. There's a chance you could regain feeling."

"A chance? You mean it's not even a sure thing it's temporary?!" He experimentally moved his neck, catching a glimpse of the next bed. "Who's that?"

Carson balked at the sudden change of topic. "That's Ronon, Rodney. Are you having problems remembering?"

Rodney shook his head. "No, no, no, no," he said, looking confused for a second before realizing he couldn't move his hand in the patented McKay gesture. "Ronon? What happened to his hair?"

"He's sleeping," Carson told him. "As should you." He couldn't really push the man down, mostly because he couldn't sit up to begin with.

"What happened to him? Is he okay?"

Carson nodded. Though Rodney might pretend not to care, he truly did. "He'll be fine. We had to shave his head because he was shot in the head." Blunt was the best way to go—Rodney would probably appreciate hearing someone was having it as tough as he was. "Teyla woke up as well."

"Sheppard?" Rodney asked. When Carson didn't respond, he added awkwardly, "You didn't have to shave his head, did you?"

Carson bit his lip. "Colonel Sheppard hasn't woken up yet. He required brain surgery, but I don't think there'll be any lasting damage."

Rodney read through his carefully chosen words but declined to comment. "At least he isn't paralyzed, right? I mean, I think he can deal with some brain damage—shouldn't really impact his IQ. Hey, wait, I didn't have any brain damage, did I? Wait, equation for a black hole's temperature—it's T equals—"

"Rodney, no, your brain's still intact. It's just your spinal cord that was hit," Carson interrupted before being barraged by physics formulas. "Colonel Sheppard's spinal cord was hit as well, but I'm positive he's not paralyzed."

"How can you know that? How can you possibly tell?" He was getting hysterical, and it wasn't even over himself. "How can you tell I don't have brain damage?"

"He's turning in his sleep, Rodney, and no bullet entered your brain," Carson answered, stilling the astrophysicist's questions. "Just go back to sleep."

"It's not like I'm able to do anything else, right?" he grumbled, glaring. "All I can do is sit here."

"You can still talk, Rodney."

"Good. I can tell everyone about the incompetence of Atlantis' doctors. I'll have to put in a request to Elizabeth to change the—Elizabeth!"

Carson raised his eyebrows. "Before you ask, no, we don't know where she is, and yes, we have every available personnel looking for her. Just go to sleep, Rodney. When you wake up later you'll feel better." He surreptitiously added a fast-acting sedative to his IV, knowing he'd never fall asleep without it.

"I doubt that," he grumbled. Then he stopped, his eyes clouding slightly. "Wait—I got shot."

Carson looked at him. "Aye, you did, Rodney. Just go to sleep."

"Huh. I was shot. I was shot . Someone shot me again." His eyes glazed over, and his head dropped back to the pillow with an ungraceful thump.

Carson sighed and unconsciously laid a hand on Rodney's unresponsive shoulder. Walking past both Teyla and Ronon's beds, he sighed. It had been lucky he'd managed to save as much of their damaged bodies as he had. Sheppard, though—

He sidled up to the colonel's bed, he closed his eyes briefly as the man's chest rose and fell peacefully. His head was swathed in a bandage, and his hair was still sticking up through the blinding white. Apart from the obvious injuries, he looked perfectly fine. But Carson knew there had to be some damage—he'd performed the surgery. He knew what he'd had to cut.

He took one last look at the man's face. Under his gaze, John's eyes began to struggle open.

Carson did a double take, almost knocking over the tray next to him. The nurses behind him looked at him, concerned, but Carson waved them away and kept his attention on John.

"Colonel? Colonel Sheppard?"

John's eyes focused on him, looked slightly confused. "Hello."

Carson tilted his head. "Hello, Colonel."

John grinned. "Colonel. Heh. Hey, what happened?" His voice cracked, and he massaged his throat.

Carson let out a breath. "The planet you were on—with Elizabeth? You were shot."

"Who?"

Carson stared at him. This was not good. "Elizabeth. Doctor Elizabeth Weir. The leader of Atlantis, son."

John's eyebrows furrowed. "Wait. What happened to Dex?"

"Ronon? He's fine; he's over there," Carson said, gesturing, but not really dropping the subject. "John—"

"Who? No. Dex. Captain—wait. Am I in Scotland?" He looked around, clearly confused.

Carson stopped, alarmed. "No, you're on Atlantis. John, what's the last thing you remember?"

John looked at him. "Atlantis?"

"Just answer the question, Colonel."

"Colonel? I'm not—" At Carson's glance, he stopped. "Okay. I was in Afghanistan—"

Carson sighed heavily. "Okay. It's going to be all right. You've got amnesia, son."

John looked at him. "What? What year is it?"

"2007."

John's eyes widened, and he looked around. "No, no, it's not."

Carson nodded, closing his eyes for a second. John needed to sleep, and he needed to figure some things out. He slipped the colonel—or whatever rank he was—a sedative and waited for his eyes to close.

"Wait!" John half-yelled. "Who are you?"

His mind went blank before his head his the pillow.

Feel the happy! -crickets- No happy. Never mind. They'll be fine...right? Oh ho, depending on reviews! -cough- Kidding. But only sort of.