Author's Note: My bad about last night, had a friend's 21st. There was much revellry and champagne... So I had an awesome time!

Anyways, here's chapter 9!

Chapter 9

Ronon couldn't help but stare.

It was strange. Stranger than any film Sheppard had shown him. Sadder than any of them. More frightening than any of them. And only partly because this was real life.

The other part, the bigger part, was the fact that it was Sheppard. Larger than life, take any hit, never give up Sheppard. Lying there, as still as stone, in that stark white hospital bed, not even breathing on his own. No, one of Jennifer's machines did that for him. And it was so surreal, so odd, so terrifying... for the first time in his life, Ronon didn't know what to do, didn't know who to turn to. Because usually in these kinds of situations, he turned to Sheppard.

Teyla stood beside him, Lorne on his other side, Woolsey on hers. And they all stared across the infirmary at the bed, not saying a word as the doctors worked at getting Sheppard comfortable.

Or as comfortable as they could when that damn Ancient machine kept getting in the way.

Taking Vaiko's advice, they hadn't removed it. No, they'd brought the damn thing back to Atlantis, careful not to yank on any of the leads. They had sent it into surgery with him, hours ago. And now they were going to find out everything they could about it from Vaiko. The scientist had found his notes and research, and brought it back to Atlantis with him. Even now, Zelenka was going through it with him.

They still couldn't find McKay. But hopefully...

Suddenly the nurses paused, Jennifer going still as she stared at a machine. Not the Ancient one, but an Earth one. Ronon had no idea what it did, but whatever it was saying, it wasn't good. Because a second later Jennifer was walking over to them, and Ronon squared his shoulders, preparing himself for the long list of injuries Sheppard was going to have to overcome before he could be called healthy again.

Jennifer's eyes welled up as she reached them, staring at them all, and refusing to give up to her tears. She braced herself as well, licked her lips, took a deep breath, and,

"I don't know what happened... But he's... he's lost all brain function."

Lorne let out a sharp breath, like he had been kicked in the guts. Woolsey's jaw dropped. "But you just put him through surgery. You were in there for three hours. Why... Why?"

Jennifer shook her head. "He wasn't... when you brought him in, he was deteriorating. I didn't think... I didn't think he would deteriotate this... this far."

"It's impossible," Lorne spoke up, sounding desperate. "No... no, we found him, he can't... When we found him, he was waking up!"

"I know," Keller answered softly. "But... Okay, I don't know, major. But it's happened."

"Did we do something to the machine when we pulled him out?" Lorne sounded sick as he asked.

Keller slowly shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, major! I wish I did, because then..." She trailed off and sighed.

Teyla was pale on the other side of him, Woolsey, speechless.

"What do you mean, brain function?" Ronon demanded. It couldn't be what he thought. Not Sheppard.

Keller shuddered. "It means his brain activity had stopped. Over the past three hours, his brain activity has just stopped. He cannot breathe on his own. He can't do anything on his own. That machine is keeping him alive for us, but he won't ever wake up."

"And when you say ever?" Teyla asked, her voice shaky, tears in her own eyes. She knew what it meant as well as Ronon did.

"I mean, barring a miracle... Colonel John Sheppard is... is gone."

"But it's the Pegasus Galaxy," Lorne cut in. "We have miracles all the time!"

"Not... Not from this, major. I'm sorry. But he is dead." She took a deep breath, let a tear slip, before going on. "What we have to decide now is... are we going to keep him artificially alive?"

Ronon felt like he had been kicked in the guts. "No."

Woolsey sighed. "Ronon, legally, it is not up to you. Colonel Sheppard's brother must be contacted. He is the one who will decide."

"No, I mean, no, we're not giving up on him that easily. Not yet." He glared down at the doctor, unable to help himself. "There has to be something. And we're going to find it."

Beside him, Teyla nodded, her face determined. Ronon crossed his arms, and glanced across at Sheppard's bed.

"We're going to find McKay."

When John opened his eyes, he wasn't actually sure that he had. True, white stared back at him instead of black, but it was all he could see. An ocean of white.

Slowly it morphed into a ceiling, and he rolled over on the soft surface he was lying on. White wall met his eyes, and memory hit him.

He leapt to his feet, and spun around, heart beating frantically. White was all he saw. White, everywhere. No seams, no lines, no shadow. Just soft, almost translucent white.

He raced forward to a section of wall, banging his palms against it, as if that would simply push it over and he would be free. It had no effect: his hands made a dull thump, and he kicked out instead, banged his fists, and screamed out. There was no response.

He took a deep breath. "Hey!" he called out, backing into the centre of the room, looking around. "Hey, is anyone out there? Answer me!"

Soft laughter made him spin again, and suddenly Dave was standing in his cell.

John backed up, feeling nauseas. "No." He swallowed, hard, and shook his head. "No... No, I killed you."

Dave jumped. "Oh, of course. I forgot." His head snapped back, quickly, almost to the point of breaking. And then he slowly brought it back. John's stomach twisted at the hole that had reappeared in his brother's forehead. "Is that better?"

John shook his head, more slowly this time. "You're not real."

The older man snickered. "What gave that away? My charm, or the gaping hole through my skull?"

John felt his stomach twist again, through an anxious fear this time. "This isn't really a hospital."

It was a statement, not a question, but Dave grinned: it didn't reach his cold, cold eyes. "No. It isn't."

"None..." He took a deep breath, unable to believe he had actually been right. Unable to believe that... "None of this is real."

"No."

He took another step back, hit the wall. "What is this?"

"This?" Dave – not Dave – demanded, looking around. "This is your existence, from now on, until forever."

John swore he stopped breathing. "You're not my brother," he snarled quietly, anger forming in his gut, his heart. "I don't know what you are, but don't you dare be my brother!"

The... thing had the nerve to look mock surprised. And then it blurred. It shifted, colours blended, outlines hazed, and in a second Carter was standing where Dave had, matching bullet hole in his head and all.

John took a step forward. "Don't," he warned. Carter laughed.

"Is this..." It blurred again, and a woman with dark brown curly hair stared smugly at him. "Better?" It cocked her head. "But of course... you don't know her." It blurred into another woman, lighter haired and darker skinned. "Or her." It blurred into a man, as unfamiliar as the women, stocky, short brown hair. He sneered. "You're hopeless, Sheppard," he – it muttered as it changed into a taller, dreadlocked man, and then quickly into a shorter man with a lot less hair. "You don't know any of them."

A younger, darker man, one eye black; a blond woman; a gray-haired man. "If you don't know us, Sheppard." A man with a Scottish accent blurred into place. "How can you say we're real?" And suddenly Dave was back, minus the extra hole. "Or that we're not?"

Sheppard's back had hit the wall again before he even realised he was moving. He felt faint, dizzy, nauseas, not knowing if he could cope with the fact that everything he knew was a lie. That everything he knew wasn't real. "Stop it," he breathed. "Stop it now."

Dave chuckled. "Come on, little bro. Am I real, or aren't I?"

"You're not!" John snapped. "So stop wearing his face!"

Dave stared across at him, face unreadable. And then he blurred again. And suddenly Sheppard was staring at his own face.

"Fine then," other Sheppard shrugged. "How about this?"

"What are you doing to me?" John demanded. "Let me go, now."

"No." It was said immediately, sharply. "That is not going to happen."

"Why not?" John asked, frowning. He shook his head. "This isn't real. And I need to be real. I need to be out there."

"And why is that?" the other him asked, grinning. He paused, waiting for an answer he knew he wasn't going to get. "That's right. You don't remember." It scowled suddenly. "You're not going back out there, John. You don't deserve to be free."

"What?" John snapped, stepping forward, fists cracking. "Who the hell are you to decide that?"

The other one grinned at him, raised an eyebrow. "Don't you get it, Sheppard? I'm you."

Sheppard looked up, studied his own cold face, shook his head, denying it. "No, you're not. You're not even real."

"I'm as real as every other thought you've ever had," it told him lightly. "I am you, Sheppard. I'm the you that you created to avoid giving everything away to those bastards."

"I what?" John demanded, feeling dizzy at the thought. "I... did not. I wouldn't do that to myself. I wouldn't trap myself."

"Well, not you. Not just you." The other John shrugged. "You, your ATA gene, and that nifty little machine those men had." He paused. "Not that you remember your ATA, or those men." He scowled with frustration. "Not that you haven't been trying. And I've had to stop you." He shook his head. "You manipulate your own mind to keep..." He paused, grinned. "You know what... Never mind. Because it doesn't matter. All that matters is I'm the you that you created so that machine wouldn't rip your mind apart, and give those men all the answers they wanted without you even realising it."

"You're lying," John denied. "This is all in my head."

"Well, that's true," the other him admitted with an amused sneer. "So deep inside your head that no one even realises you're still in here. But you know I'm not lying, John. You know. And you know this is for the best."

"Bullshit!" Sheppard snarled. "I'm going to get out of here. I'm not staying in here forever. You'll have to kill me."

"Well, let's not go to extremes," the thought, or image, or whatever he was answered. "I don't intend to kill you. I kill you, I kill myself. And I'm having fun in your head. But you're not getting out of here. Want to know why?" It chuckled. "Because you have no idea what to go back to. You don't remember anything... You don't know what's out there, and that keeps you more trapped than anything I can do."

The thing paused again, and then grinned lopsidedly. "Word of advice. Calm down. Relax. Take a break. I'm in control, and if you keep fighting me, I'll have to do something... drastic. You have no help, and you have nothing to fight for. Somewhere in that thick skull of yours, you knew this was the only way. So stop fighting yourself, and see this for what it is. A release of your burden. Because you'll never have to worry. About anything else." It chuckled and then faded away, its last words echoing through the white cell. "Ever again."

It disappeared completely, and John slid down the wall, his legs giving way. He took a deep breath, feeling angry, and frustrated, but most of all, defeated. Because he knew. He wasn't getting out of this one. Because he... the other he, had been right.

He wanted to fight, but he had no idea what he was fighting for.

McKay knew he should have gone down to the infirmary.

He paced in his room, wringing his hands, deep in thought. Not that he could really keep track of his thoughts, they were moving that fast. But they mostly centred on the fact that he should have been down in that infirmary. He should have gone on that mission. He should have rescued Sheppard.

Just like Sheppard had rescued him.

He didn't remember much of it. He had been mostly unconscious, and concussed, and bleeding, after all. But he remembered enough. He remembered he had been saved. And Sheppard had been caught.

Which meant he didn't deserve to be down in that infirmary. He couldn't be down there. It was physically impossible for him to move past the door, knowing that beyond it, somewhere, was Sheppard. He didn't deserve to be down in that infirmary, and most of all, Sheppard didn't deserve for him to be down there. Sheppard didn't deserve a friend that got him caught, and tortured, and almost killed.

He paused and turned to stare at his door, licking his lips. Then he shook his head, turned back to his pacing. And stopped again when the door chimed.

He collapsed onto the bed, not answering. He didn't even make a noise when someone began pounding on the door.

"McKay!"

It was Ronon. He had been expecting Teyla. How long since he had even spoken to them, over the radio, or face to face? How long since they had dragged him the rest of the way through that wormhole while John's voice had shouted over the radio for them to shut the thing down? He remembered that.

He jumped again as Ronon pounded on his door, breaking his thoughts. McKay took a deep breath. And didn't answer.

"McKay!" Ronon snapped. Loudly. Rodney flinched. "I know you're in there, dammit! Answer me!"

There was a massive silence, and then it sounded like the Satedan kicked the door. "McKay, we're coming in whether you like it or not."

Another pause, and suddenly Rodney heard shuffles at the door. Tiny noises. He gasped. "Stop!" he shouted. "No!"

They were breaking in. "Go away!" he screamed, making it half way to the door before he stopped. But all his shouting, and all his fear was no use.

The doors opened, and there they stood. Zelenka looking guilty. Teyla looking determined, obviously struggling to remain her usual serene self.

And Ronon looking murderous.

The Satedan stormed in, and from the quick glance McKay got at Teyla's jaw drop this hadn't been part of the plan. But then Ronon had grabbed him, and had thrown him out into the corridor.

"Hey!" Rodney shouted indignantly, using the wall to scramble to his feet. "Tortured man he..."

Ronon's eyes... he had never seen Ronon look at him like that. Wraith, Genii, Replicators, for sure. But never him. "Ronon, please..."

The beg made the taller man growl. "Ronon!" Teyla warned, reaching forward to touch his arm. He slapped her gesture away.

"You ungrateful little..." The Satedan snarled as he grabbed McKay's jacket again. McKay grabbed him back, but he didn't even bother trying to remove it: it would have been like removing a truck.

"Ronon!"

The Satedan didn't hear her. Or rather, he did, but he ignored her again as he leaned in, face tight. "You're seeing him whether you like it or not."

It was a rough journey to the infirmary. McKay kicked and screamed, and he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't stop Ronon, as much as he tried, giving the Satedan a few scratches and bruises. He ended up with more bruises himself – none intentional. Even now, when Ronon hated him, he wouldn't dare hit him... not after what he had gone through.

Besides despite the bruises, the fist in his jacket, he didn't feel the pain. No, he felt humiliated at the crowd that watched them walk by, Ronon all but dragging him across the floor. He hadn't seen these people in weeks, hadn't wanted to, and he couldn't let them see him like this. But he couldn't stop himself. He knew where they were headed.

Everyone in the infirmary dropped what they were doing as Ronon barged through the doors, dragging the reluctant McKay behind him. Teyla entered as well, a guilty, frustrated look on her own face. But very few noticed her. All they noticed was the Satedan who dragged McKay across the floor to the very end bed. And dropped him.

Rodney fell to the floor, not crying, the screaming given up. He just breathed hard, and refused to shift his gaze from the floor.

Ronon growled, and the noise seemed to echo in the silent infirmary. "Look at him!"

Rodney flinched, and took a deep breath, finally hearing the beeps of the machines, the whoosh of air going down the tube. He licked his lips and grabbed a hold of the blankets, hauling himself to his knees.

And slowly, so slowly that it felt as if hours passed, he looked up, across the bed, to his friend. His unmoving, pale, bruised, hurt friend.

And he swore he stopped breathing.

He scrambled to his feet, shocked at the sight before him, trying to back away and running into Ronon. The tube down John's throat, the leads attached to his chest, the IVs running into his arm. But like Teyla and Ronon before, nothing shocked him more than the leads attached to John's head. Or rather, the leads going into his head.

Finally remembering to breath, he followed the leads to the machine Sheppard was attached to. And he felt something stir in him, something he had been lacking ever since he woke up in the infirmary to the news that Sheppard had been captured saving his worthless ass.

It was anger, and loyalty, and hate, and passion, and it was emotion. And some of that numbness he had been feeling for the past two weeks slipped off.

"What the hell..." he whispered, moving around to the machine. "Is this... This is Ancient."

The entire infirmary seemed to take a breath but McKay barely heard them. He looked across at Ronon and Teyla. He didn't notice their relief either. Teyla nodded.

"That is what Vaiko says, yes."

"And you found him... you found him like this?"

"We couldn't get him out," Ronon told him. "Not without killing him."

Behind them all, Keller made a small noise, and Rodney looked around at her. "What?" He looked back at his team mates, sparing a quick glance at Sheppard. "What don't I know?"

Teyla glanced at Keller, who nodded. And then Teyla sighed. "John is... he is brain dead, Rodney."

He almost went numb again. But he fought, fought to hear the words, fought to keep them in his mind where he wouldn't lose himself forever. He couldn't do that again. Not even willingly. "No."

"Yes, Rodney," Keller told him. "That's why Ronon went to find you. To say... to say goodbye."

"Why?" McKay demanded, spinning to face her, and finding Woolsey as well. "Where's he going?"

"Back to his family," Woolsey told him gently. "Back to Earth. So they can decide... can..."

Despite the faltering words, McKay understood. "No." He sucked in a deep breath. "No! No, we're his family, and I'm not letting him... He saved me, I need to..."

"He's brain dead, Rodney," Keller reminded him. "He's already dead."

The words sounded too blunt, too quickly, and McKay flinched. "No," he denied softly. "No. Give me time. I'll prove he's not dead." He could. He had to. Sheppard would not die because of him. "Where's this... what did you call him? Vaka? Vax?"

"Vaiko," Teyla told him. "His name his Vaiko. He is a scientist. He's in the mess hall."

McKay snorted before he could stop himself. "We'll see about that." He began walking backwards out of the infirmary, still shaking his head. "I'm not saying goodbye."

"We're coming," Ronon muttered, following. McKay stared at him, at his face, and eyes. And he knew, suddenly, that Ronon hadn't dragged him here to say goodbye. Not at all.

McKay nodded, and the three of them walked out with a new determination.