Chapter 2

Jennifer leaned over Rodney as she removed his IV line and said, "Okay, I'm dialling the painkillers right back to just the oral ones, and I want to get you eating proper food today. I think you'll soon be ready to be released back to your quarters to carry on resting."

Rodney winced and squeaked as the needle came out with a sharp sting, but nothing compared to what he had already endured. Jennifer pressed a plaster down onto the back of his hand and held onto him while he regained his composure.

He wasn't sure whether it was morning or night, having just woken up from a fitful doze. Most of what he could remember came back to him in the half wakeful state between consciousness and the nightmares. But what he recalled was only in flashes of emotion: fear and pain and screaming, accompanied by the sour metallic stench of his own blood.

No windows in the infirmary told him the time, but the lights were on full, so he assumed it must be daytime. He glanced at his watch on the bedside table. Three in the afternoon. But time no longer had any meaning or significance for him, his sleeping pattern completely out of sync from being ill for so long. He wasn't even sure exactly how long he'd been in there, the days all blurring into one long endless haze of pain-nightmare-pain in the silence and boredom.

Jennifer looked down at him pensively and he gazed back at her nervously. Had he done something wrong? Why was she looking at him like that? Did he need more surgery? Was she about to cut him open again?

She squeezed his hand gently and furrowed her brow in confusion, "What, no protest? You haven't shouted at my staff for several days like you usually do."

Rodney huffed, "Should I?"

"It's just… it's not like you."

Rodney felt anger bubble up inside his chest and snatched his hand away. "Who am I then?!"

Jennifer stepped backwards, "Well, you're you. Just different, that's all."

Rodney closed his eyes. "Go away."

Jennifer rested a hand on his upper arm briefly. "Now that's more like it!"

He shook her off, it was bad enough having Sheppard wheeling him down for sessions with Heightmeyer nearly every day. The woman seemed to enjoy questioning his manliness, giving him no option but to speak to defend himself, often in anger. Besides. what could she do to make him talk about what transpired while he was Michael's captive, when he couldn't even remember himself? Why was she so interested in what he'd been through… was still going through? His innermost thoughts and fears stayed right where they were. Inside. After all, that's where they belonged and they really were none of her business.

His fury grew as Jennifer kept staring at him and he finally snapped, "I said go away!"

She nodded. "Well, call me if you need anything at all. Your button's right there." She walked across the room and disappeared into the lab.

Rodney closed his eyes, exhaling a long breath in relief while waiting for the less potent drugs to make the pain increase. There was little change, so he grabbed the laptop Sheppard had sneaked in for him and buried himself in work. He checked over experiments and fired off scathing emails about how wrong everyone was and how right he was.

After a few hours, he began to feel tired and knew that he had spent his body's current allowance of awareness for the time being. He'd ploughed through every email and checked over just about every experiment and project running in the science department. The lesser drugs had already begun to make the constant burning pain take its toll on him. He knew he should call Keller to give him something stronger, but that would be admitting weakness and he was too stubborn for that.

No-one came and visited for him to have a go at, so he decided there wasn't really anything else to do but sleep.

So he shut down the computer and placed it next to the bed, and allowed himself to drift in and out of consciousness for a little while, until he was woken by an alarm.

He jumped and muttered, "Bad move. Bad move," when the sharpness of a thousand twisting knives ground into his belly and lower back at the movement. "Oh ow."

Jennifer ran past the end of his bed and Rodney called out above the claxon, "What's going on?"

She shouted back at him, "We're under attack! Casualties are coming in."

"When did that happen?" Rodney cried. He tried to get out of the bed, but he was restrained to the gurney by his ankles and wrists. Icy terror clutched his heart and constricted his chest, cutting off his airway and making every breath an exertion so great he could barely sustain it.

"Why am I tied down?"

"The nightmares, you were getting violent. We don't have time for it now."

Rodney grew angry, and as a gurney bearing a man came through the doors, he shouted, "Let me go!"

Jennifer and her team ignored him as they worked on the first bloody victim of the attack. The whole room shook at the sound of an explosion nearby.

Rodney squirmed and struggled, bruising his bound limbs in the process and wheezing in pain and panic. "Untie me! I can help!"

Everyone continued to ignore him as he lay there and the coppery tang of freshly spilt blood overwhelmed the anti-septic sterility of the equipment around him. He gagged and quickly swallowed to keep his stomach contents where they were.

Ronon and Teyla suddenly came into the infirmary, supporting an unconscious and blood streaked Sheppard. Two more gurneys followed them in, each bearing badly injured marines.

Jennifer was business like and triaged them all quickly, just before another explosion, closer this time, sent most people sprawling.

The citywide broadcast activated, "This is Colonel Carter. They've taken most of the city. All hands report to the Gate, we're evacuating."

The lights flickered and the walking wounded left the infirmary. Gurneys and equipment were loaded up and moved out, along with the injured who could not speak.

Rodney cried out, "Don't… No, don't leave me behind!"

Jennifer dashed out behind the last gurney, leaving Rodney alone. He pulled on the restraints and his gasping breaths got louder and louder as the emptiness pressed in around him. He whispered, "Please… no…"

Spots of blood covered the floor and walls and Rodney glanced along himself and noticed that his once white and clean scrubs were now spotted with blood. He starred blearily as he watched the spreading patch of darkness well up and coat his midsection, becoming deep red as it finally breached the surface of the bandages and cloth. His forearms were the same, and the red soon became so damp that it dripped down through the bandages and soaked the bed underneath him.

He shouted, "Help! I'm bleeding!"

No-one answered him or came to help. The sound of stun blasts reached him from the corridor and Rodney stopped moving and shut his eyes. If they thought he was dead, maybe they'd move on and leave him?

He heard footsteps walking into the room, and screwed his eyes shut and held his breath. But he couldn't stop the sound of the steady patter of his dripping blood onto the floor.

There was a growl and a snarl and the footsteps came closer, preceded by the bitter smell of decaying flesh and death. There was a quiet snuffling and Rodney tensed up when he felt the heavy breaths of the intruder right on his neck.

An unrelenting weight suddenly pressed down on his chest and he opened his eyes in horror to see that his attacker was a Wraith just as he suspected. The creature grinned malevolently down at him where he lay bound and helpless. But instead of feeding on him, like he thought it would, the Wraith used sharp claws to tear off the top half of his scrubs, exposing his half-naked, bloodied torso. It placed its claws just above the soaked bandage, right in the soft hollow beneath Rodney's ribs and paused.

Rodney managed to fill the tense silence, but his voice trembled, "What the hell are you doing? You… you over-dosed-on-peroxide moron?!"

He cried out in agony from the answer, as the monster raked its claws down his midsection, pulling the bandage off and gouging deep lacerations into the existing wounds.

Why hadn't it just drained his life force and killed him?! It was a Wraith wasn't it?

It left him there and went out of the room. The lights dimmed as blood flowed out of him and ran in torrents over his skin and down to the floor. Rodney panted and felt dizziness claiming him as he weakened, but he knew no-one was coming for him, so he gave into the darkness without a fight.

The world spun around and crashed, abruptly dissolving into the infirmary, whole and clean and as it had been before the attack.

Rodney blinked and gasped, "What the…?"

Jennifer was next to him again, looking at him intensely. "You were having another nightmare. Do you want me to call Kate or John down here?"

"No. I just…" His eyes suddenly caught sight of what Jennifer was holding her hands. "Are those…?!" He scrambled to get away from her, sitting up with a hiss and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Jennifer shouted, "Rodney? No, stop!"

But he'd already planted his feet. He struggled to stand, his weight too much for his abused legs to take after such a long period of inactivity. The wounds and muscle damage couldn't take it, so he fell down heavily and painfully.

He crawled instead, but didn't have the strength to get very far before he collapsed into a panting, furious heap, his limbs trembling from the exertion and his anger levels swiftly rising towards a full scale meltdown.

Jennifer and several nurses came over to him and laid their hands all over him, trying to get him back up.

He snarled and snapped at them, "Get off me! Leave me alone! I can do it! I just want out of here! Stop touching me!"

He could still move his hands, even if the rest of his idiotic body was completely useless. He fought with them, even though he didn't have much of an impact, until his energy reserves were gone and he was too out of breath to fight anymore.

"I'm not going to use the restraints, Rodney!" Jennifer said as she and her team supported him back to the bed and laid him down.

"Then why do you have them?"

"In case you get violent and we need protection. Or to protect you from yourself. You do tend to flail around and hit yourself very hard on the edges of the bed."

Rodney closed his eyes and shook, he was still breathing heavily, each breath pulling the wounds which seemed to cover him and resented any movement. He eyed Jennifer nervously where she was still holding the straps. She moved them behind her back and sighed, "Alright, no restraints anywhere nearby, but you have to promise not to get violent again or I won't have a choice."

Rodney nodded wearily and sunk down into the mattress.

"I'm going to get you some food. Nothing too heavy so that it doesn't aggravate the damage to your digestive system, but we'll see how it goes."

Rodney shut his eyes and relaxed into a shallow and troubled sleep, full of monsters and fear and blood, where he was always being left trapped and alone to face his fate.

Vague memories and images assaulted Rodney while he slept, he was unsure which were real as his mind played missions he was unfamiliar with, always ending up with him being abducted by Michael and chased down the halls of a Wraith ship by monsters with human faces. He remembered no more, only being on the pier with Sheppard and the pain and anger since then. But there was also a dark, featureless room in an industrial estate, which came back to him more often than any other image.

----------

"Wakey wakey sleepy head."

Rodney opened his eyes. How long had he been out? He was vaguely aware that days had passed and he was assaulted by memories of John and Heightmeyer trying to get some sense out of him. He also had a recollection of eating, or more like drinking some sloppy substance along with the jello. And painful physiotherapy sessions which tried to work some strength back into his healing muscles to allow him to walk and pick things up again.

Jennifer was smiling down at him. She announced, "It's your big day today!"

Rodney frowned up at her in confusion.

She helped him to sit up and pushed the pillows behind his back to keep him upright. She said slightly less enthusiastically, "You're due out today. John's coming to pick you up in just a few minutes."

Rodney sighed and Jennifer frowned at him. "You do want to leave, right? I'm sure you'll be chipper once you get out of here." She lightly touched his shoulder in a mock punch. "Can't be that much fun hanging around with me all day?"

Rodney said nothing and Jennifer eventually gave up and went to retrieve the wheelchair.

True to his word, John arrived later, along with Ronon and Teyla. They helped Rodney into the chair, while he huffed and grunted in anger at their constant annoying attention.

Jennifer came over and pressed a large box of pills into Rodney's hands. He held on as best he could, but still couldn't quite fully curl his fingers to maintain a strong enough grip. The wounds on his arms prevented the muscles from working properly and the pill box dropped to the floor. He watched it spin in the air and heard the landing clack like a gunshot in the quiet infirmary.

John bent down and snagged the lost pill box. Jennifer pursed her lips at him and then looked at Rodney, who still had his head down. "Remember to read the instructions and not to take too many. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all, and I'll send someone up."

"I'll make sure he knows," John said.

"Sitting right here," Rodney grumbled.

Ronon ruffled Rodney's hair and grinned at him, "That's McKay."

Rodney glared up at him and snapped, "Who did you think I was?"

Teyla looked at him and he thought he saw sadness and pity in her eyes. He turned away and screwed his eyes shut as he shouted, "Go away! All of you! Leave me alone. I'm not an invalid, nor am I suddenly completely stupid just because I can't walk or hold onto things."

He kept his eyes firmly shut as he sealed off his mind from the outside world. Words were spoken and he felt the sensation of motion, but he didn't listen or take heed of where he was until a voice spoke directly into his ear.

"It's okay, Rodney. The others have gone. It's just me now."

Rodney opened his eyes and was met by John Sheppard crouching down in front of him where he sat in the wheelchair. They were in a featureless corridor, which could've been anywhere on Atlantis. John was holding the sides of the chair where Rodney had his hands in his lap.

John smiled back at him when he saw the recognition indicating that Rodney was now out of his trance-like state. "I'm taking you back to your quarters. I've got a few DVDs lined up and then I thought we could call the mess hall for some takeaway. Keller said you can eat proper food now, but nothing too indigestible.

Rodney furrowed his brow at the idea of there being things he couldn't eat and John continued, "She gave me a list of all the stuff you can eat. It's really long. Ronon and Teyla are coming later, if you're up to it."

Rodney frowned and John elaborated, "They won't say a word if you don't want them to."

Rodney said, "I just want to be left alone."

"Okay, that's fine too. I'll still come back later with the food. I'm always on my radio if you need anything."

John straightened up and took up position behind the chair to carry on pushing Rodney towards their destination. Rodney asked, "Why are you doing this?"

"Why not?"

"It's what nurses are for. You're busy, got other things to do than chase after me."

John paused and sighed before he spoke. "Because it's my fault you got hurt and I have to make it up to you somehow."

"That's not true."

"What?"

Rodney closed his eyes, not that it really mattered. Even though he couldn't see, he still continued to move without his say so, and didn't have to worry about slamming into walls. "It's not your fault. It's mine. I should be better by now. In the labs working on s-something. Should've harassed the infirmary staff to let me go earlier."

"Super fast healing McKay? I don't think so. You're only human, Rodney. Give yourself a break."

"But I've always left early in the past, been back at work in a few days."

"You weren't nearly as badly injured before." John stopped outside a door, but Rodney didn't recognise it. "Your quarters."

Rodney reached out and ran his hand over the metal. It was cold to touch, and felt so unfamiliar it was as though he was invading someone else's private space, touching something that wasn't his and never had been.

The door slid open and John pushed him inside. Pictures and certificates hung on the walls, adorned with a name he recognised as his own. There was desk with a laptop and a coffee maker, and a bed with a thin mattress. Rodney looked around the room, but he felt detached, like he was looking at someone else's room, not his own. It was like coming back after a long holiday and somehow everything seemed brighter, darker, busier… just not how he remembered leaving it, and it was so much worse this time.

There was an unfamiliar smell about the place too, not anything too obnoxious, as the air conditioning took care of that, but it was enough to make him wrinkle his nose. If that's what his room smelt like, he wasn't sure he wanted to stay in there for too long.

John didn't mention it though and merely smiled down at him as he said brightly, "Home sweet home. Feel better?"

Rodney frowned deeply. "Not really. How long has it been since I was here?"

John walked away and pulled back the curtains to reveal the late afternoon sun streaming through the glass from in between the towers of the city outside. The light was almost blinding to Rodney, it had been so long since he had seen any daylight or brightness such as that.

"A few weeks." John sighed and came back over to him. He crouched down in front of him again and said quietly, "You were really badly hurt, Rodney. Keller was tearing her hair out, and if you've given me any greys I'll make sure you pay for it. When you're better of course. You nearly died."

Rodney hung his head down and grimaced.

John smiled at him and drawled patronisingly, "But you have to remember that you didn't and you're on the mend. Things will come back to you, you'll feel better soon I'm sure."

Rodney said, "So people keep telling me. I want you to leave now."

John held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I'm going, but remember the radio if you need anything."

The door swished open and closed behind Rodney and he was alone. Finally, blissfully, completely alone. He stood up and smiled savagely when his legs shook and hurt as he stumbled over to the window.

He shut his eyes and allowed the warmth of the sun to kiss his face. But there was still a block of ice and dread in his heart, which the light and heat couldn't break through to melt.

He sighed sadly when his legs informed him they'd had enough of lugging his heavy weight around and started to give way.

He knew then that no matter what everyone kept telling him, he really wasn't ever going to get better. The constant aching pain piercing nearly every area of his body assuring him of such. He shouldn't still be hurting and weak after all this time unless it was going to be permanent, should he?

He blinked when his eyes became clouded and he felt something warm running down his cheeks. He wiped the liquid away with his hand in disgust and gritted his teeth to stop the tears. He may not ever be whole again, but that was no excuse to turn into a useless gibbering wreck at the slightest thing.

He slowly limped over to the desk and poked at the objects he found. But he soon felt uncomfortable about doing that. None of the stuff felt like his and it was like going through a stranger's possessions.

He went over to the bed next and sat down, exhaustion dragging him down to sleep. He sighed heavily and swung his legs over, sinking down into an uncomfortable slumber, with dreams filled with faceless people sifting through and casting lots on things he knew were his, but he no longer cared about any of them.