Author's Note: Okay, so as far as I can tell, Ancient Athens hasn't pulled me into oblivion. But the night is still young... OKay, it's 1:30... but I'm going to be studying for a while yet... tell me again why I go to Uni?

Anywho, enough with the complaining. Thanks everyone for the awesome reviews. I'll try to reply individually, seeing as you took the time to review individually, but no time at the moment, got an essay to write!

But seeing as we're procrastinating, here's chapter 2!

Enjoy!

Chapter 2

Dave didn't let anyone see him for three days. Sheppard's older brother stuck to his side like he was afraid his little brother would die the moment he left. The doctors ended up chasing him away on the third day after John had woken up because Dave hadn't seen proper sunlight in two weeks.

Sheppard watched him go with a small smile before settling back to sleep. He was still tired, but he was getting better, breathing without the mask now, and the headaches had steadied to a dull pain in his forehead that he could ignore if he wanted to.

But he still had a long way to go to recover, and he knew it. He just wasn't looking forward to the long road ahead.

"Is that demon of a brother gone?"

Sheppard's eyes flew open, and he would have jumped a foot in the air if his entire body hadn't been incapable of it. A man, tall and stocky with a balding head, stood at the door, searching the room, apparently for Dave, looking mock fearful.

Sheppard smiled and nodded, leaning back, easing his bound shoulder onto the pillow. "The doc kicked him out, Carter," he answered. "It's safe."

Sheppard's boss walked in, looking comfortable in his usual suit pants and shirt. He also looked happy, and relieved, but he wasn't the sharing kind; he kept his emotions tightly reined, providing a face of energy instead of whatever he was really feeling. Head of Sheppard's unit, he was used to dealing with bureaucracy. But obviously he had met his match in Sheppard's bossy older brother.

"Bastard kept me out of the room for three days." Carter shook his head as he took Dave's vacated chair. Relaxed, he swung his feet up to rest on the end of Sheppard's bed. "How you feeling?"

"Better," Sheppard answered. "Though I still have no idea what happened. No one's telling me anything."

Carter slowly sobered up. "Yeah… Hoped you'd not want to talk about it."

Sheppard chuckled darkly. "Don't worry, I don't." He shook his head. "Not exactly the best moment of my career."

Carter pulled his legs down and sat up straighter, elbows on his knees. "You're wrong there, Sheppard. You saved McKenzie's life. O'Neill wants to give you a medal."

Sheppard stopped at that. "He what? He never gives anyone a medal. Besides, I don't want it."

Carter grinned. "Didn't think you would. Don't worry, it won't be until you get out of here, at least. But you deserve it, Sheppard. You saved McKenzie's life, and you practically brought down that entire drug ring single-handedly."

"Give me a break," Sheppard snapped, sitting up straight himself. "I got caught. Dumbest move ever. I nearly died because of it."

Carter seemed to flinch. "No need to remind me, Sheppard," he told the younger man harshly. "I was there when we rescued you. I was there when they broke into your cell and saw you unconscious in the same chair you'd been sitting in, without stop, for three days. Smelt the shit, the piss, saw the blood. I was there when they dragged you out of that chair, and it sent you into shock, and they had to give you CPR. I was there -."

"Stop."

Sheppard's voice was quiet, insistent, but his heart was beating hard, fast, and he knew he had gone pale.

Carter obeyed, looking a bit guilty. "Sorry. But… you're not only one of my best undercover cops, you're one of my best friends, John. Finding you like that… that you're even alive is a miracle."

"Can we talk about something different?" John asked, looking away and fiddling with his sheets. "How is McKenzie?"

"Physically, he's fine. He's already out of hospital." Carter looked down. "But he saw you when you came into hospital as well, and… he's feeling guilty. They only had him for a few hours, half a day tops, but he's feeling bad that you got caught rescuing him."

"It wasn't his fault," Sheppard retorted, shrugging slightly. "And this topic isn't really that different."

"When can you get out of here? Get back to reality?" Carter asked. Sheppard just shook his head.

"Who knows? Soon, I hope, but I think I'll be in here a while. A few weeks, at least, probably more if Dave has his way."

"Speaking of the brother from hell," Carter muttered, standing up. "I better get going before he gets back. I just wanted to see how you were."

Sheppard grinned. "You can tell the team I'll be back to work before they know it," he told Carter, knowing they would have been annoying the boss to get in and find out. Carter just shook his head.

"Don't rush it, Sheppard. If anyone deserves a bit of time off, it's you. And not just cause of this. I'll see you later." He turned and aimed for the door, feet shuffling slightly as he ran into Dave as he was coming in. "Oh, hey Dave."

Sheppard could feel the anger bubbling away under Dave's surface, but he just ignored it. To his surprise, the other man didn't say anything either, just dumped a duffle bag on the bed.

"I brought you some of your own clothes," Dave told him quietly. "Thought they might be more comfortable than hospital clothes."

"Thanks," he replied, sitting up straighter and wincing at the pull on his ribs. "Have the docs said anything to you about when I can get out of here?"

"John, don't rush this!" Dave snapped. "Christ, can't you sit still and recover, for five minutes?"

Sheppard looked at him with wide eyes. "Over reaction much? I was just asking."

The older man sighed. "I know. And no, they haven't. Probably not any time soon." He sat down heavily in Carter's vacated seat. "Just… relax, John. You've been through a terrible ordeal, and your body is not going to heal itself overnight."

John managed a grin. "You know I can't sit still."

Dave smiled with him, though it was a lot sadder. "Trust me, I do know. But you'll just have to get used to boredom, and sitting. Just let me do what needs to be done, and you just take care of getting better."

John's grin faltered, and he frowned slightly. Once again, Dave copied him. "What?"

"Nothing," Sheppard said with a shake of his head. "It's just… I didn't expect… after last year… I just didn't think…"

He couldn't say it, but Dave got the picture anyway. A look of hurt flashed across his face, but he looked down before John could watch him squash it. "I know. And I'm doing what I can to change that. Trust me. I've only got your best interests at heart." He coughed and then got to his feet. "Anyways, I'm going to go harass your doctor again, see what's up."

John watched him go, not letting the frown slip. They hadn't been talking for so long. Hell, it felt much more than a year had gone by since that argument on Dave's front door.

And now here he was, dependable big brother. Only, David Sheppard had rarely been someone John could depend on, far more interested in girls, school, cars… anything else that would mean he didn't have to spend time with his little brother.

And John had been fine with that. He had accepted that no matter how much Dave loved him, their shared blood was just about the only thing they had in common.

But now here Dave was, ready and willing to hold him up in what would be the hardest few weeks, possibly months of John's life.

And it just didn't feel right.

The voices were distant, like shadows, whispers on the wind that he could capture if he struggled. And they were worried, panicked, anxious. And he didn't know why.

Tell me what's going on!

He wasn't sure where they were, or who. Everything was darkness, it was all encompassing, but for some reason it did not scare him. He thought he should be scared. But all he felt was tired.

We don't know! The machine… just not worki-… The voices dropped in and out, and he tried to shift, tried to moan, tried to do anything but just sit – or was he laying? Swinging? Was he swinging in the darkness? Was he moving, breathing, talking, screaming?

This is not happening! Tell me this is not happening!

Well it is, and we don't have a clue. All we know is that this shouldn't be happening, but it is – it was happening, he knew it was happening, really happening, and suddenly he tried to shift again, jerked in his ropes? Irons? Whatever it was that was stopping him from moving, and around him was suddenly silence.

He's not… is he aware, Vaiko?

I'm not sure. He could be. But he's trapped.

He was trapped. Yes, he was, and suddenly that fear came alive, as he felt the crushing force around, no, in his head, in his head, squeezing hard, pressing down all around him, and he jerked again, struggled against whatever was holding him down, inside his mind, just pushing and pulling until he could bear it no more, and he screamed, the agony more than he could –

"Detective! Detective Sheppard, wake up! John!"

Sheppard bolted upright, panting, before crying out with the pain in his ribs and shoulder. He fell back to the bed, gritting his teeth as his body throbbed. The doctor who had been trying to wake him stood upright, taking a breath of relief and even managing a smile.

"Must have been some nightmare," the man exclaimed, as he pulled his stethoscope off his shoulders.

Sheppard began to nod, then paused. "I… I guess." He rubbed his face with his good hand and tried to relax. "Can't remember."

"Well, that might be a good thing." The doctor shrugged. "Even if you don't remember, I can guess what the nightmare was about."

"Being tortured," Sheppard answered bluntly. "Don't worry, Dr Jackson, I'm guessing the same thing." He tried to get onto one elbow, looking at the man in all seriousness. "Doc, I need to know what they did to me."

Jackson blanched, taking a step back. "I don't think you're ready for that, Detective."

"Doc, come on."

Sheppard struggled upright; it was hard with only one working shoulder and sore everything else, but he managed. He even managed a scowl at the stocky man who was making him whole again. Physically at least.

"It's been nearly a week," he reasoned with a lick of his lips. "And I need to know sooner or later. I mean, I can guess some of what happened but… I really need to know what those bastards did to me."

Dr Jackson scowled down at him. "Your brother requested -."

Sheppard was getting sick of that type of answer. "Well, my brother's not here," he snapped, cutting the doctor off. "And I'm old enough to make my own decisions."

The doctor studied him for a moment, and then sighed. "It's not just your brother, Detective Sheppard. I'm worried about your mental stability. You haven't been sleeping properly. And you just went through a terrible ordeal."

"Trust me, I'm aware of that," Sheppard told him. "But I need to know."

Jackson sighed. "Fine. But it's a long list." He held up one hand and counted off his fingers. "Broken collarbone, dislocated shoulder, broken ribs, broken wrist, broken fingers…" He paused, studied Sheppard for a minute, before holding up the other hand. "Broken leg, dislocated knee, fractured ankle, all on the one leg… when you arrived here, you also had severe internal bleeding, severe concussion, and severe bruising. You spent twelve hours in surgery. We had to restart your heart four times, on top of the two times in the ambulance. You've had irregular heartbeat, infection, and all sorts of bugs running about your systems."

Sheppard swallowed as the man came to a pause. He nodded slowly. "You were right," he muttered. "That is a long list." Maybe he had been better off not knowing. "When can I get out of here?"

Jackson's jaw dropped. "Get out of… Did you just hear a word I said?"

"No, I ignored every little detail about my own broken body," Sheppard snapped. Then felt guilty about it. "I'm not good with hospitals, doc."

"I noticed," the man replied dryly. "And for your information, you probably won't be out of here any time soon. And even after you're released, you'll be back a lot for rehab. You've got a long road to recovery, Sheppard, and it isn't going to be easy."

John grinned wryly. "Trust me, I'm aware of that too."

What's on your mind, John?"

Sheppard looked up from his wallet, and studied the psychologist. The shrink. He was about as good with shrinks as he was with hospitals. He shrugged, and then regretted it as his collarbone and shoulder complained.

"Things," he answered honestly, taking the cards out of his wallet one by one and studying them. "My memory. Dave's sudden motherly side. When I'm getting out of here. How long it's going to take me to recover."

"You still haven't remembered anything from your captivity?" the woman asked. What was her name? John couldn't remember. Didn't really care either.

"Flashes," he told her. "Just before I fall asleep. I get flashes. A fist coming my way. Pain." He chuckled humourlessly. "Always pain. Other small details."

She cocked her head, and her auburn hair fell over her shoulder. "You seem awfully calm about it."

He only just avoided shrugging again, and instead tossed his wallet to the side of the bed. "Like I said, I can't remember most of it. And the bits I do remember… they don't feel like they happened to me. I mean, I see them, and I feel them, but it's like someone else is taking the hits."

"That's not unusual," she told him, flicking her dark brown hair back down her back. Sheppard frowned, staring at her. Something was – . "A sense of disconnection with what happened to you is your brain's way of healing itself."

He shook his head, ignoring the voice in his head that said something was wrong. Then he stared down at his lap. "And the fact that I still feel it?" he asked quietly. "The fact that everything seems surreal, and fake, like I could reach out to touch it, only for it to all disappear?"

He looked up at her as she smiled gently. "Still not unusual," she told him. "What you went through, John… nobody should have to go through that. All these things you're feeling, they are normal. I promise you. Your body, and your brain, is just trying to cope after everything they went through. It will take time, but I swear you will once more feel connected." Her smile faltered slightly, and she sighed, putting down her pen and pad. "You just went through a terrible ordeal, John… try not to rush your recovery."

When Dave came to visit him that afternoon, John was rifling through his wallet again. His brother frowned as he walked in, dumping another bag of John's things on the end of his bed as he swung his body into a seat. "What the hell are you doing, John?"

Sheppard looked up at his brother, and frowned. "Looking for something," he muttered for an answer, searching once more. Dave's eyebrow rose.

"For what, exactly?"

Sheppard shook his head, and finally tossed the wallet aside again. It was useless. He must have lost it. "My pilot's licence," he answered. "I can't find it anywhere."

A look of panic crossed Dave's face so quickly that Sheppard almost swore he had imagined it. But he knew. He knew he hadn't.

"Your… pilot's licence?" Dave asked slowly, standing up. "John, you feeling okay?"

"Fine," Sheppard told him with a roll of his eyes. "Or as fine as I can be when I'm stuck in this bed twenty-four-seven." He took in Dave's worry, and then frowned. "Why?"

"John, you don't have your pilot's licence," Dave told him; that worry on the older man's face deepened when Sheppard's frown did. "John… you're afraid of flying."

"Oh… right. Of course," Sheppard muttered, looking down at his hands. Now that Dave mentioned it… the thought of being up in a plane… It did kind of scare him. Surely that was the sensation in his gut. Fear. "Right. Sorry."

Dave was silent for a moment, and then he shook his head. "I'm going to see the doctor," he told his little brother. "See how you're going in medical terms."

"Real subtle, Dave," Sheppard muttered as his brother left. On his own, John just laid down on his back, frowning at the ceiling. He was afraid of flying? Was he? It just… didn't sound right. It didn't feel right.

Besides. If he was afraid of flying, why did he have dreams of doing it every time he closed his eyes?

Hmmm.... Interesting...

See you tomorrow night!