JUSTICE

CHAPTER 18

"I worked all day on the problem – except when I came to see you of course – but do you know what it turned out to be? Drum roll please!" Rodney was smiling as he turned to the man lying on the bed. When Sheppard remained unresponsive his smile faded. "Well I can see you're not interested…but it was a nest. Do you remember those weird bird creatures Doctor Kelsey brought back from M97 283 for further study? Duh...what am I saying…of course you wouldn't. If it doesn't involve Ancient Tech, big guns or hot aliens it's just another mission – right? Anyway…one of them escaped from her lab last month. We thought it had literally flown the coup when we found it. The stupid bird had set up a maternity ward in one of the ventilation ducts blocking our sensors. When we opened it up, it was just sitting there….looking at us. I don't know who got the biggest fright. Well…probably Radek. It bit him when he tried to move the eggs. I thought it was funny…okay…so it wasn't for me as it caused a lot of work. But I thought you would find it funny."

Rodney sighed as he snapped shut his laptop and set it down at the side of his chair. He'd just started rubbing the small of his back when he heard a movement. His head snapped round. It was John as he shuffled in bed. The pilot flinched, but didn't open his eyes.

"Dammit, Sheppard, enough with the sleeping beauty act! Look…I know you've been through a lot…well more than a lot. Still it's time you woke up…"

"Shouting at the Colonel isn't going to help, Rodney."

"Seriously…I don't believe you're telling me off. Hello…Sheppard can't hear me, Carson!" Rodney gave Carson a disparaging look. "I thought you said he was getting better."

Unfazed, Carson came over and lifted the chart from the end of the bed. "What I actually said was I believed Colonel Sheppard had turned the corner. He is still a very ill man, Rodney. Better in his case is a relative term."

ooooOoooo

Voices were wavering in and out of his consciousness. He recognized them, but couldn't grasp what they were saying. He'd heard the click of keys, and knew it could only be one person - Rodney. He heard the scientist talking to him and wanted to answer. Tell his friend he'd be okay, that everything would be alright. Except it wasn't. It was as far from okay as you could get. Somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind John knew he'd escaped from Flenda, but he was still trapped in hell. The guy with the pitchfork didn't have a whip, but he was still in agony. Chained to a spit over a red-hot fire. Stuck in a void of raging heat that was burning him alive.

The chills followed right behind, and frozen to the core he shivered. Every part of his body screamed and John groaned as the motion awakened the deep raw ache rippling through his body. His teeth rattled, and his body shuddered. He was drenched in sweat which was just plain weird, as the moisture falling down his body felt warm although his skin was icy cold. He sensed a second presence just as another chill flowed into his veins. John knew it must be Carson as the pain started to ease. He wanted to thank him but the words wouldn't come. John felt himself start to drift and gratefully he slipped into pain free oblivion.

ooooOoooo

Carson noticed the flinch and checked Sheppard's chart. It was nearly time for his meds. The man might not be able to speak, but his body was telling them he was in pain. He loaded the syringe into the IV and watched as the strain gradually eased, and Sheppard's face went slack. After disposing of the needle, he checked the machines around the bed before folding back the covers to expose Sheppard's chest. Marie handed him the ice packs and he positioned them under his arm pits, and by his groin. Sheppard shivered but he was burning up. Carson didn't like causing him discomfort, but he needed to get his temperature down.

This time it was Rodney's turn to flinch as he saw the patchwork of stitched flesh that ran like demented train tracks over his friend's body. "Is he going to make it, Carson?"

"Aye…I think so." Carson sighed. "I had hoped we'd knocked the fever on the head, but sometimes the nasty wee buggers are like that. Just when we think they're on their way out, they come back in full force to give the patient one more going over before they finally break…I'll keep an eye on it."

Rodney visibly paled. "Oh…crap – is this my fault?"

"Is what your fault?" Carson squinted at him, confused. Rodney had a tendency to make everything about him. He wondered what the hell the man was talking about.

"I shouted at him…"

The Scot's face softened and he put down the chart. "No, Rodney…this has nothing to do with you. The truth is Colonel Sheppard has been so weakened by malnutrition and abuse his body is struggling to deal with any kind of infection. But he's a fighter. He's fighting right now…" Carson came over and put a hand on Rodney's shoulder. "He isn't giving up, and neither should you. John needs you…he needs all of his friends right now. Look…ignore what I said earlier, maybe shouting isn't such a bad idea after all. It lets him know how concerned you are. It'll have told him you're there. Keep talking to him. Just do what you're doing. It can't hurt, and it might just help."

"How is he today, Carson?"

Both men turned to see Teyla coming towards them. Ronon was with her. The Satedan drew Beckett a look. Carson ignored it. He knew the big guy was still annoyed at him for helping Rualin, but he would get over it. At least he hoped so. He liked Ronon, and the last thing he wanted was their friendship to become another victim to the miscarriage of justice that started in Taluna. Carson was surprised, but nonetheless relieved that so far there hadn't been any repercussions.

Several days had passed since Ronon had taken his impromptu but vicious revenge, and so far there hadn't been any further visits from Flenda's high command. Carson guessed there could only be one reason for that - Kilund. He reckoned the soldier must have spun them quite a tale. Carson prided himself on being a good judge of character, but was big enough to admit this time he'd got it wrong. There was clearly much more to Kilund than he'd imagined. Underneath the rough and ready exterior was a smart man. He was glad. Not just for Ronon's sake but for John's. If his friend recovered only to discover Ronon had taken his place inside, Carson feared John would never be the same again.

"Carson?"

At the note of worry in Teyla's voice, Carson realized he hadn't answered. "Sorry, lass – I got a bit distracted there. I'm afraid he's had a wee setback. His temperature had started to go down, but the fever's come back."

Teyla nodded, and looked at the man lying on the bed with concern. "Unfortunately that is common with fever."

"Yeah…that happened to my brother." Ronon drawled. "We thought he was okay…then it returned with a vengeance. He shook it off though. Two days later he was back at work."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Just hold on a minute…How come you guys know so much about fevers, huh? Carson," he stared accusingly at the medic, "did you hold a first aid course without me? You did, didn't you…well I must say that's really nice…"

"C…could you hold the noise down…I'm t…trying to sleep."

John's weak voice grabbed their attention.

"Sheppard?"

John squinted at the scientist through half shut bleary eyes. "W…who else w…would it be, Rodney?"

"Aye...who else indeed." Carson smiled. He moved into a position so the Colonel could see him clearly without the sick man having to shift his head, and started taking his pulse. Carson was grateful for all the technology at his disposal, but he still trusted the traditional methods. "How are you feeling, Colonel?"

John grimaced, and Carson heard his sharp intake of breath. "Is…is that a trick question?"

Ronon lifted an eyebrow at the medic, but he was grinning. "You asked for that one, doc."

"It is good to see you back with us, John." Teyla eyes were moist, but a warm smile lit up her face.

"Wha…where have I been?" John frowned, and when he tried to move his wounded arm, he moaned softly.

"Right, people, visiting time's over. The Colonel needs his rest." Carson saw the team's disappointment, but drew them a look that brooked no argument. When they all looked at each other Carson guessed what they were thinking. "Aye, okay…one of you can stay, but no conversation – he needs to sleep."

"Hasn't he slept enough…"

"Carson is right, Rodney…sleep is the best medicine for John at the moment." Teyla said in a quiet voice.

Rodney was about to pick up his laptop again when Ronon stood in front of him with his arms crossed. The scientist opened his mouth to speak, but at the big man's prolonged stare he started to rise from the chair. "Fine…I get the hint. I'll see you later, Sheppard."

"I will also come and visit you later, John." Teyla came over and gently swept the damp hair off his forehead. "I shall bring some Athosian tea the next time I come."

Rodney and Teyla were just on the point of leaving when they heard John's raspy voice. "H…how many?"

Carson didn't have a bloody clue what John could be asking about. It was obvious the others thought the same as they exchanged a worried glance. There was evidence John had recently suffered a concussion, but a CT scan hadn't revealed any bleeding. If he was becoming confused that wasn't a good sign.

"How many what, Colonel?" He asked anxiously, then something occurred to him. "If you mean how long…how many days since we brought you back to Atlantis, that would be six."

John licked his lips, and struggled to swallow. Carson cursed himself for being so remiss. He reached for the cup with the ice chips, but Ronon beat him to it. The Satedan spooned a couple of small slithers from the container and gently put them into his friend's mouth.

"T…thanks…" John slurred and closed his eyes.

The small group stood quietly watching the soft rise and fall of his chest, but just as Teyla and Rodney started to move away John's eyes sprang open. The pilot looked at Rodney.

"E…eggs…In the nest…how many?"

"Three…There were three eggs." Rodney's face flushed, and he looked as surprised as Carson had ever seen him.

"Cool…" A ghost of a smile played on John's lips as he finally fell asleep.

"I didn't think he'd heard me…wow."

Carson smiled. "Aye…that's common with coma patients."

Rodney's face paled. "Oh crap…I wonder what else he's going to remember I said…"

ooooOoooo

Dull pain throbbed incessantly but it wasn't the gut wrenching agony of before. It was muted, bearable, nothing he couldn't handle. Even when it began to notch up John didn't care. He was home, and that was all that really mattered.

"There's no need to suffer, Colonel. You should have told me you were awake again."

John dragged open his gritty eyes to find Carson watching him. The doctor looked relieved.

His chest felt heavy. Like there was an elephant - scratch that, a herd of elephants sitting there digging their big flat feet into his ribs. He went to speak and found his voice muffled by an oxygen mask. John lifted his hand to remove it. He gasped when a spike of pain speared through his arm, and it fell back onto the bed.

"I had to do a wee bit of surgery to correct some muscle damage." Carson told him. "It would be wise not to move it too much."

Carson took off the mask and replaced it with a cannula. He was vaguely aware of Carson fussing with his IV. Within seconds John felt his brain go fuzzy as the icy chill of narcotics started to dull the pain.

"It's the arm isn't it? I'm surprised it's even still attached. How many times have you been shot there? Sorry – taken fire. Anyway…it's had so many holes in it I'm surprised it isn't transparent." Rodney muttered sounding concerned.

Carson glared at him. "Rodney…Would you give us a wee minute please. I need to speak to my patient."

"You're kidding – right? I already know what's wrong with him…everyone does." When Carson stood waiting with his arms folded, Rodney put up his hands and got to his feet. "Fine…I'll go. Sheppard…I'll see you later."

John gave his friend a weak smile. When he tried to speak he started to cough.

"Small sips." Carson put a straw to his lips and John drank gratefully. The water was cold. It was the first time he'd tasted cold water in what seemed like forever.

Now a little less parched he decided to try the whole talking thing again. "How long have I been out this time?"

"Another forty-eight hours give or take." Carson told him. "I won't deny it, you had me worried for a while there. That fever took longer to shift than I expected. It finally broke in the early hours, but it's left you with a low grade pneumonia."

John nodded and wished he hadn't. His head started to swim. Carson had a bowl under his chin before he had time to blink. John couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten, but it didn't stop him retching. He was achy and exhausted by the time Carson helped him back against the pillow.

Carson took a damp cloth from the cabinet, and wiped his face. "Believe it or not, some food will make you feel better. I'll arrange some broth once we've had a wee chat."

"Sure…I'm a captive audience, Carson, fire away."

Carson didn't smile at his poor joke, and John wondered what he'd done wrong. Then he got worried. What if his injuries were more serious than he'd thought. What if he couldn't fly again? The scars he could deal with, but not being able to do the thing he loved most was another matter. "Is it my knee? Weren't you able to fix it?"

"You tore some ligaments, and cracked your knee cap but yes…I fixed it. With time and physiotherapy it should be as good as new."

John let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

The Scot looked at him with a mix of concern and frustration. "John…I can make you well. I can even sort out the worst of the scars in your back and chest, but it's what's going on inside your head we need to talk about."

"What are you talking about, Carson?"

"When you're strong enough you'll need to deal with what's happened to you." When John opened his mouth to object, Carson silenced him with a look. "I'm serious. I know how you feel about psychiatrists but you were tortured…beaten to within an inch of your life. Worse still you endured all that punishment for something that wasn't even your fault. That's not something you can dismiss as just another mission gone wrong."

"Why was I pardoned, Carson?" John's voice started to crack. "I still shot that man…so what changed? Why was my sentence overturned?"

Carson sat down on the chair and raked a hand through his hair. He looked sad. "The man was dying. He was in a lot of pain. When he heard the Wraith come…he saw it as a way to end his suffering. He was watching you fighting that drone. When he saw you raise your gun…"

"He saw it as an easy way out…"

John knew he should feel relieved that he hadn't got careless after all, but all he felt was numb. There was a whole bunch of questions attached to what he'd just heard but he couldn't think straight. Right now he just wanted to be alone.

"I'm feeling kinda tired, Carson..."

The doctor patted his arm and got to his feet "I would have liked you to eat something first but…I'll leave you for a bit. Sleep well, but next time we'll need to get some food in you. You're seriously undernourished."

"I will…promise…And thanks, Carson."

"It's my pleasure, Colonel. I'm just glad to have you back."

Carson started to dim the lights, but as the room grew dark John felt his heart start to race. "Leave them on…please."

The Scot's face was expressionless as he took his hand off the control. However his eyes told a different story.

John knew that look. He'd just made out like a basket case and knew if he didn't say something he would never get out of therapy. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat as he tried to stop his voice cracking. "They shut me in a small cell…there were no lights."

Carson's face went scarlet, and he muttered something under his breath. John scrubbed a hand over his face. It came away wet. He hadn't realized he'd been crying.

If the Scot saw the tears, he never said a word. "I'll leave instructions for the nurses to leave them on. You're home, John…After everything you've been through it's going to take a while, but you will get better – I'll make sure of it. Will I send Rodney back in?"

"Yeah…thanks. Company sounds good."

He fell asleep before Rodney even entered the room.

ooooOoooo

Torren chased his red ball along the balcony floor. When he caught it the small grubby fingers handed it to John. It was the first time Teyla had seen her friend smile since he returned from Flenda.

John was pale and much too thin, but he was healing – physically at least. The wind dishevelled his hair and caught the top of his dressing gown. He tugged it closed. Teyla saw a tell-tale flush on his cheeks and could tell her friend was embarrassed, but she did not know why. New skin covered the crisscross of ragged lines caused by the whip. It was still pink, but the grafts were healing well.

The wonderful technology in Atlantis amazed her. From some of the torn skin Doctor Beckett had removed in John's initial surgery, he had managed to grow enough replacement skin to cover the scar tissue. It had involved several more sessions in surgery but John had not complained. Then again, he did not speak much at all these days. He had become quiet and withdrawn, barely recognizable from the charismatic Major who had convinced her to follow him to Atlantis all those years ago. She was worried about him. Then again, they all were.

"Teyla…do you wish me to take Torren for his nap?" Kanaan nodded over to John. The pilot returned the gesture.

Kanaan had been patience itself during the last few weeks. Without a word being spoken he understood her need to be there for her friend. She smiled at her partner. "Thank you…I will return John to the ward and see you both later."

The little boy went over to the man in the wheelchair and John ruffled his hair. Teyla then lifted her son aloft and gave him a kiss. Once she saw her family away, she turned round to find John staring at her.

"I could've managed to wheel myself back." John lifted both arms in the air. "See…they work and everything!"

His eyes were shining with anger, but she did not know what she had done to upset him. "If your leg supported you, then yes…you could have walked back. But your skin grafts are still healing. Doctor Beckett does not want you to do anything that would risk pulling them apart."

"Fine…I get it! The invalid needs help…in Flenda it was the chains that kept me restrained. Here…it's my own freaking body." John mumbled the last part, but Teyla still heard him.

John had turned his face away from her. He looked mutinous, his mouth set in a firm line.

Carson had referred John to Doctor Miller the psychiatrist. The Scot could not divulge any details about the sessions but it was clear he was concerned. John had said little to any of them since his return, and nothing about his ordeal. Teyla was not trained, but knew enough about the human condition to realize John might be ready to start talking. She wasn't going to waste the opportunity.

"Tell me. I want to know what happened…I want to know everything you went through."

His expression was cynical, and there was an edge to his voice. "Trust me…you really don't." His eyes were filled with rage, but she could tell the tears were ready to flow. "Tell me, Teyla, what makes a person do something like that?"

"Rualin was an evil man, John…"

John shook his head and a single tear rolled down his cheek. "No…I meant the woman who lied about what happened. Men like Rualin and Kolya I understand. Evil is universal. I know how twisted this sounds, but I'm used to dealing with guys like him. What I don't get is how she could justify her actions…she never even thought about what would happen to me. She…she allowed me to be punished as if I didn't matter…as if I was worthless."

"Oh…John!" She went to put her arms round him, but backed off when she felt his shoulders stiffen.

"Take me back to the ward please." John's face was expressionless, his voice devoid of emotion as he answered as if nothing had happened. Teyla could tell the moment had passed. He was already drawing into himself.

He refused to meet her gaze so she bent down and whispered in his ear. "Listen to me. The John Sheppard I know is one of the bravest men I have ever met. If not for him I…and my people would have died at the hands of the Wraith. You saved us, and many others since. I cannot speak for the emotions that drove the woman to do what she did, but she was wrong. Very, very wrong."

Teyla heard her voice start to crack and her own eyes felt moist, but John remained silent. She touched her head to his forehead, but got no response. It was a solemn pair that left the sunny drenched balcony and made their way back to the infirmary.

ooooOoooo

Kilund stared at the papers scattered over the desk and not for the first time since accepting command, wondered if he'd done the right thing.

It still felt strange being addressed as Commander. Every time he heard the greeting he looked over his shoulder half expecting to see Rualin standing there. He hadn't wanted the damn job, but after hearing about the missing prisoners he'd felt partly responsible for their deaths. His old job had been to transport them to the prison, but in hindsight he'd been happy to walk away, turn a blind eye to the atrocities taking place there. Now he was ashamed. He should have done something to help these men, but he hadn't. This would be his penance – turning Flenda into a place of punishment, not torture.

A knock on the door grabbed his attention. One of the guards had his hand on the door. "Commander…there is someone here who would like to see you."

Kilund started to button up his jacket. It was new, just like his Captain's insignia. Both of them felt stiff, restrictive. He missed his old carefree life.

"Nice threads…"

"Ronon!"

The guard looked aghast at the two men exchanging a bear hug. When he saw him Kilund suddenly remembered where he was. He straightened his face before he addressed him. "Thank you, Vieedan, you can go…Mr Dex is a friend."

They waited until they were alone before Ronon spoke. "So…how does it feel being the boss?"

Kilund ignored the wolfish grin. "Honestly…I hate it, but someone needs to sort this place out. I didn't want to risk it falling into the hands of another sadistic bastard like Rualin…" He'd already reached into the desk and brought out Rualin's liquor and two glasses. It was the only thing he'd admired Rualin for. His taste in whisky.

Ronon drained the glass in one. He smiled as Kilund refilled his glass. "Anyway, why the visit, my friend? It's good to see you, but if I didn't work here Flenda isn't a place where I would choose to spend my time."

"It's Sheppard...he's having a hard time -"

"Adjusting to life outside…what happened to him. And you think a visit from me would help?" Kilund interrupted.

Ronon shrugged. The smile had gone, and the big man looked worried.

Kilund finished his drink and put down the glass. "Look, Ronon…I don't know if Sheppard would exactly welcome a visit. It was me who brought him here, remember?"

There was an uneasy silence for a long moment. Ronon broke it by walking to the balcony. "How is Rualin?"

Kilund came to join him. Both men were looking at the frame. "Your doc put him back together, but you my friend left me in a very tight spot."

Ronon tensed up, his expression becoming guarded. "I'm sorry…but I'm not sorry for what I did - Rualin had it coming."

"Hey…you won't get any argument from me." Kilund put his hands up. "It wasn't that long ago I might have done the same thing myself…but do me a favour – don't ever tell Sheppard what you did."

"I wasn't intending to…but why?"

Kilund rubbed his beard. "Because if you tell him about the whipping…it will only remind him of his own."

Ronon said nothing, but the spark of resentment which had been growing was gone. Kilund knew from the Satedan's expression he'd made his point.

"So…what did you tell them?"

"I told them a couple of prisoners had managed to evade your men and hid until after you'd left. Once you'd gone they overpowered me, and took their revenge on the Commander."

Ronon gave him a wry smile. "They escaped afterwards?"

Kilund rolled his eyes. "Yup…I'll admit it wasn't much of a story, but the General bought it. I think he wanted to believe it. At any rate, he didn't seem upset about his ex-Commander getting a thrashing."

"So what did Rualin say about it?" Ronon asked.

Kilund coughed. "I have to admit I wasn't quite sure how much of that morphine stuff to give him. He was pretty out of it at the time."

Ronon locked eyes with him. "Thanks, Kilund…I owe you."

"No you don't…I owe you for giving me a chance to repay a debt to your boss." Kilund told him simply. "Anyway…Rualin's being held at high command waiting trial. He was initially going to be court marshalled for the murder of Ceeland but…after you guys left we found the bones of seven men buried outside the prison. That's just the deaths we know about. The Duty Sergeant, Mallend, has made a plea bargain to give evidence against him. So have some of the older guards. I hate to think how many men have died under his brutal regime."

He saw Ronon clench his hands into fists. Kilund felt the same way. "Tell you what. There's too much going on at the moment for me to leave, but…once I start making some headway I'll think about it."

Ronon slapped him on the back. "Thanks…I'd better head back, but I haven't forgotten about the drink I owe you."

Confused, Kilund picked up the bottle of liquor. "This? It isn't even mine."

Ronon's smile was back. "No…When we first met I smashed your bottle of liquor over your head."

Kilund returned the smile. "So you did. If…and I mean if I come to Atlantis you can settle the debt. In the meantime tell the Colonel to keep out of trouble."

Ronon's face fell. "That's the problem…he doesn't want to do much of anything anymore…"

ooooOoooo

TBC.

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