Author's Note: Here's another one. The following chapters mostly focus on the team POVs but I love playing around with Sheppard's role as CO so I thought this was a fun way to start the story.

Just a warning, this story is MOSTLY the comfort/recovery so not as much on the action/venture side of things. Some character deep dives and team love but NO SHIPS. Just not really my thing.

Warning: Unbeta'd. And I have tried to research the medical stuff as much as possible but it's hard to find time to write (mom of three young kiddos who keep me very busy/exhausted). So my hope is always that the medical/other technical things sound at least believable if not accurate. I did try, though.

Hope you enjoy.

"Okay, so you think Wraith are worse than Goa'uld?"

Sgt. Jerod Brooks chuckled and nodded immediately at what he felt was a dumb question.

"Don't get me wrong, Goa'uld freak me the hell out but we are talking about living, breathing space vampires who suck you dry of life with their hands in only seconds. They heal stupid quick and are damn near impossible to kill, especially if they've fed recently. Plus they have their own spaceships and the Queens. Don't even get me started on the Queens."

His partner on post, Corporal Fletcher, stared back with wide eyes as he listened to Jerod's response. Yeah, Jerod knew the guy was still new, having only arrived two weeks ago, but the Pegasus Galaxy moved hard and fast and none of what he said had been untrue.

"Damn," Fletcher responded as his eyes scanned the clearing in front of the Stargate. They were currently on post at the Alpha Site, which everyone knew was amongst the most boring positions available. But Jerod didn't mind this time, as they had seen plenty of excitement lately between botched missions, fighting of Wraith and trying to find a missing Colonel Sheppard.

After all of that, much of which felt like a failure overall due to only ever discovering the Colonel's dog tags and a bloody uniform shirt, Jerod was all too happy to catch a relaxing day of monotonous guard duty.

His newbie guard partner, however, seemed antsy. They had been on post for about four hours now with another eight remaining before their relief would come and take over. Which was fine with Jerod, but he figured he should try to keep Fletcher chatting as much as he could to keep the guy from going stir crazy.

"You know, this post isn't so bad," Jerod started, repositioning his P90 across his chest. "Trust me, you'll be wishing for laid back days like this before you know it."

Fletcher huffed, "So everyone keeps telling me…"

Jerod frowned and peered over at the man. "What? Is the Pegasus Galaxy not living up to your expectations?"

It was mostly conversational but there was a bit of defensiveness on Jerod's part. He had been with the expedition for two years now and he knew first hand how downright terrifying and relentless life could be here.

Fletcher seemed to pick up on the tone as he quickly backpedaled. "No, no. It's just… I mean, it isn't really what I was expecting. I've mostly been in training but, I don't know, everyone seems off and Major Lorne is fine but…"

"He's not Colonel Sheppard," Jerod finished dejectedly. That much was true. Jerod very much liked and respected Lorne, but with him in charge, his demeanor changed. Not power hungry, but he always seemed more overwhelmed and rigid every time Jerod saw him or when he was addressing them all at briefings and such.

In fact, the entire base seemed different. More downtrodden and pessimistic. The Colonel had pulled them all out of more than one sticky situation over the years and everyone felt a bit safer with him around.

"Yeah," Fletcher responded. "I've only ever heard stories about him and about how active everyone is here but… just seems kinda blah to me."

"Blah?"

Fletcher grinned slightly, "Yeah, you know? Like… blah." He repeatedly, this time making an overly dramatic sad face that didn't fit with the oversized oaf of a man.

Jerod laughed and leaned against a tree near the 'gate. "Well, everyone loved the Colonel. Well, mostly everyone. Just sucks that he's gone."

"Yeah," Fletcher agreed, but then pepped up pretty quickly. "But yo, listen. Have you fought Ronon before? I thought the Marine Corp would make me a top fighter but that dude blows through everyone I've seen so far!"

Jerod chuckled again and nodded, "Yeah, the man is a beast. But he grew up fighting Wraith so he kinda had to be. You should really try to watch Teyla some time, though. She's the tiny woman who usually has exotic looking clothes on. But the way she moves, especially with those sticks she uses… it's pretty amazing."

Fletcher nodded, "You're the second one who said that. I'll have to try to catch her in the gym one day."

Jerod was about to start describing how the Athosian woman was able to defeat almost anyone despite how small she was but was interrupted by the 'gate powering up. Jeord and Fletcher both frowned and immediately came to attention, their weapons raised as the stargate, which had no scheduled dial-ins, fired up. The massive jet of wormhole shot out before being sucked back into the calm pool looking substance of the event horizon. Only a second later, a figure came barreling through as though he had been thrown, followed by what looked to be chunks of brick and other debris.

"Shut it down!" the man yelled after rolling awkwardly to a stop at the bottom of the ramp.

Jerod frowned but immediately followed the instructions. He was closest to the DHD and shut it down as quickly as possible, knowing that the debris was a problem for everyone, especially the man lying in a fetal position on the ground. Though whether he was friend or foe had yet to be determined.

As the event horizon disappeared and left only silence behind, Jerod glanced at Cpl. Fletcher and saw a similar look of apprehension and confusion as both kept their weapons trained on the man who Jerod now realized was heavily injured, wearing only black pants and rather hairy.

The man coughed and slowly unfurled slightly as the debris stopped falling, and looked up at the now deactivated stargate, still not paying any attention to the soldiers with guns pointed at him.

Suddenly, the man flung out an arm towards the stargate with a triumphant, "HA!" At the end of the arm was a single finger held up high. Jerod's frown deepened at the acknowledgement that their unexpected visitor was clearly flicking off the stargate defiantly. A gesture he had only ever known to be exclusive to people of Earth.

Fletcher looked at him with just as incredulous of a look. But then it hit Jerod like a ton of bricks: the hair was longer and crazier than normal and the black pants were way more tattered, faded and stained than BDU uniform pants normally were, but this was unmistakably…

"Colonel Sheppard?" Jerod asked softly, gun still trained on the man and eyes wide. He glanced at Fletcher again and saw the Corporal's eyes widen and his mouth drop open. "Is that you… sir?"

The man let his hand fall to the ground before pulling it slowly under him, trying to push himself up while favoring his right arm.

"In the… bloody flesh," the Colonel mumbled, pain clear in his voice as he breathed heavily. It was an appropriate visual as the man had either dried or newly flowing blood all over his body, especially on his back which was littered in bits of shrapnel and debris. Beneath all of that, his bare chest and back were riddled with bruises of various colors and sizes.

"Could I… bother you for… a hand?" he grumbled after finally pulling himself up to rest on his knees, right arm still held gingerly against his chest and seemingly struggling to keep his head upright. "Better yet… dial Atlantis. Ready to… go home."

The shock must have been pretty clear on their faces because when the Colonel finally glanced between them, he chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"Need my IDC?" he asked. "They took… my damn tags."

That snapped Jerod out of his frozen stupor.

"It's him," he shouted to Fletcher, nodding excitedly. "Lower your weapon and help me get him up."

Within moments, they were both at the Colonel's side but Jerod had no clue where he could even begin to grab the man that wouldn't cause him considerable pain. But then a horrible thought occurred to him.

"Wait," Jerod said as they grabbed him as gently as possible and raised the frail man to his feet. Sheppard had always been rather tall and thin, but a severe lack of food had clearly been a part of his reality over the past few weeks as Jeord could literally see his ribs protruding from his skin slightly. "What time is it?"

He asked Fletcher but it was Colonel Sheppard who scoffed and replied, "Forgot… my watch… at home."

"1400 hours."

Oh no…

"I got him, Corporal. Try to dial Atlantis, hurry!"

Fletcher looked confused but followed orders and ran over to the DHD to begin dialing. Jerod started to take on the Colonel's weight, only to have the man pull away.

"I can stand, Sergeant," he mumbled, his breathing not quite as labored while standing, but still certainly not quite right. And though he swayed, he was, indeed, able to stay upright. Much to Jerod's surprise, given how horrific he looked. "What's going on… Brooks?"

But within a moment, Jerod's fears were concerned when Fletcher looked back at him, shaking his head. It seemed as though realization was dawning on the Corporal as well.

"Sorry, sir," Jerod began, wincing as he took in the half-lidded, swollen eyes of his battered CO. "Atlantis was beginning the monthly diagnostics with Earth today at 1400 hours."

A moment of silence was followed by a low groan as the Colonel rolled his eyes and let his head hang briefly. He seemed more annoyed than anything, which almost made Jerod chuckle. While there was nothing funny about the deplorable state his highly respected CO was in, Jerod could distinctly see the famous petulant and perpetually unrattled flyboy that everyone had missed so desperately for the past three weeks.

If there was anything the last few moments since he erupted through the 'gate had told Jerod, it was that Sheppard may look broken physically, but they had clearly not been able to break the man's spirit. At least not fully.

"Dammit," he mumbled, bringing his good hand up to lightly rub the bridge of his swollen nose. "Well… I can't stand for… the next thirty-eight minutes… so you think you… could help me inside?"

Fletcher, now reappearing at the Colonel's other side, helped Jerod slowly guide the injured man to the small outpost building that was made for the Alpha site. It was a glorified shed, for all intents and purposes, but it had basic food and medical supplies, additional weapons and ammunition and a halfway decent chair or two. It would have to suffice for the next half hour or so while Atlantis' Stargate was tied up.

If only Jerod had remembered Major Lorne's morning reminder that they would be performing the lengthy diagnostics just a little bit earlier, Colonel Sheppard would likely already be taking a gurney ride to the infirmary instead of hobbling to the outpost. Or if he had flown through the 'gate just a little sooner.

"Remind me to… put a little more effort… into this place," he breathed as they eased him into one of the chairs. Jerod chuckled slightly but it quickly turned to a frown when he really took in his CO's condition a little further.

He really was covered in bumps, bruises, cuts and scabs on just about everywhere that was visible. His chest in particular had several long, thin slices going from collarbone to naval region, no doubt caused by a blade strategically and purposefully slicing through the delicate skin. In some areas, the skin appeared raised and inflamed, indicative of infection setting in. The arm he was nursing more or less hung loosely from the elbow down and a deep bruise about halfway to the wrist suggested that the break was likely in that general area. And his wrists themselves told the tale of a man shackled for a lengthy period of time as the newer, barely healed cuff marks were clearly layered on top of older, more healed ones.

Then there was his breathing; shallow and quick, perhaps from a lung injury? There was only so much his limited medical training and available supplies could do to provide assistance to a man who desperately needed it.

Needless to say, Lt. Colonel Sheppard wore the story of the hell he had endured the past few weeks on his body like horrifying tattoos, forced on him without mercy.

But Jerod watched the Colonel slowly look up at them, his bloodshot eyes squinting lightly against the lights of the outpost, which made Jerod aware that they were basically ogling the poor man.

"Um," he breathed, "think one of you… could grab the… med bag?"

"Oh, right!" Fletcher jumped, still looking shocked at the sight of the famous Colonel Sheppard, who he likely had assumed he would never see in person, let alone injured and having just escaped from captivity. He quickly began rummaging through the shelves, pulling out a large bag of medical supplies.

"Sorry, sir," Jerod added, shaking his head at his own lack of judgment.

Jerod went to the opposite shelving that held basic medicines and grabbed some ibuprofen, knowing that it generally helped a bit more with swelling and pain, as well as a pair of tweezers. He poured some alcohol on them and returned to the Colonel.

"I'd offer you some morphine, but I don't know the state of your head wound," Jerod continued, before grimacing as he glanced at the man's head again. "Well, wounds…"

Sheppard shrugged, his head still hanging lower than normal, his good elbow on his knee to help keep him up given that his back was too shredded to put weight on. "S'okay. I know the… drill."

And Jerod knew that was as true a statement as there ever was.

"Um, sir," Fletcher stammered, now standing in front of his long-lost CO, speaking very slowly and nervously. "I… I've only put an IV in someone once and, um, he was dead. A cadaver, that is. But… you know, you should probably have an IV."

Colonel Sheppard looked up at him with an amused look and chuckled a bit, which quickly turned into a nasty sounding cough. "You're new, right?"

Fletcher nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Welcome to… Pegasus," Sheppard snorted before letting his head droop again. "I'll be your… guinea pig. Can't hurt… much worse than… I do now."

"While he does that, I'm going to try to get some of this debris out of your back," Jerod added with a grimace at the sight of the shredded skin.

"More torture," he sighed. "Lovely."

"Sorry, sir," Jerod sighed. He knew Sheppard had meant it somewhat lightheartedly as dark humor was clearly his primary defense mechanism, but the weight of his statement was still a heavy one. He clearly had been severely tortured for quite some time, and Jerod hated the idea of his actions being at all comparable.

They began their tasks all the same and while Jerod had worked under Colonel Sheppard long enough to know the man was literally what legends were made of, he'd never worked so closely with him. And he'd certainly never seen him in a condition like this. He remembered hearing about the transmissions in which he was fed on by a Wraith, but he'd never seen them and by the time he'd been returned to Atlantis, there were no visual signs of torture.

But even with that, he would have never expected the man to sit there and barely make a sound while Jerod went piece by piece, digging out bits of shrapnel and cleaning the wounds as he went. Then there was Fletcher who was on his second attempt at putting in an IV. The first time, the liquid had caused a sudden and gross looking bubble under the skin, to which the Colonel had calmly announced, "Y'missed."

But when Fletcher suddenly looked up with a huge, relieved smile, Jerod knew the IV was finally in place. It was a relief for him, too, as he knew their CO desperately needed fluids. But when he noticed the Colonel starting to list more to the side, he figured he needed to try to keep the man talking.

"You gotta stay awake, sir," Jerod warned as he dug a particularly large piece of debris out. "Only about twenty more minutes."

"Atlantis? My team?"

Jerod smiled, "All is well, Colonel. Dr. McKay has been working with little sleep so he's been grumpier than normal. Ronon has been… well, taking down Marines like never before and Teyla… she has been spending a bit more time with her people, I believe. I've also noticed her in the infirmary more. Taking lessons, maybe? But when they aren't doing those things, they've been looking for you."

Colonel Sheppard nodded slowly, wincing as another piece was dug out. His breathing hitched for a moment, which led to another painful sounding cough. "How long?"

"Sorry, sir," Jerod mumbled sadly. "How long? You mean how long have you been gone? Almost three weeks, sir."

The Colonel lifted his head at that answer, his breathing a little faster. "That… long?"

"Yes, sir," Jerod affirmed, his stomach twisting suddenly at the difficult conversation. He'd been gone so long he had lost track of the time. "So… uh, how did you manage to escape?"

Jerod winced, not knowing how his CO would handle being questioned about such a recent and clearly horrific ordeal. But then again, soldiers just lived differently. And to his relief, Sheppard chuckled again and it actually sounded a little unhinged.

"Blew 'em up."

Jerod shot a glance at Fletcher who was now carefully placing a splint on the damaged arm. His movements definitely got the biggest reaction out of the wounded Colonel than anything else had so far, but he still didn't cry out or pass out. Just winced and would breathe sharply from time to time.

"So you kind of blew yourself up, then, right?" Fletcher asked, a slight grin on his face.

Colonel Sheppard shot him a look and said, "Don't judge, new guy."

Jerod laughed at the statement and the resulting look of fear in his partner's face. But the Colonel just smirked slightly and let his head droop again.

"But yeah," he breathed again, "guess I did. Worth it."

"So did you find a grenade or…" Jerod questioned again, knowing that the Colonel was desperately trying to stay awake.

"Found… weak guard," he answered. "Probably wanted to… be an actor, or… something. I spent the last few… days looking extra dead… Thought I wasn't a threat… so he was easy to… overpower."

Jerod frowned as he imagined a man so broken and beaten overpowering anyone, let alone what he assumed was a trained guard.

"Then… found a room… of powder kegs."

He lifted his head to look at them, a wild grin on his face as he recalled that detail.

"Made a nice, long… trail to their 'gate. It was… in their underground lair… where I was… held. Only had to… kill one other guard. Then… I lit 'em up."

"Damn," Fletcher breathed in awe, a sentiment that Jerod shared as he finished with the final obvious piece of debris. Now cleaned as well as possible and bandaged, Jeord looked at his watch and saw that there should only be about ten minutes left.

"Fletcher," Jeord said, looking at the Corporal who had finally finished splinting the Colonel's arm. "Go try Atlantis again. Maybe they finished early."

The truth was, between the man's continued struggle to stay conscious along with the sound of his labored breathing, Jerod was feeling particularly ready to pass his CO off to the medical professionals. With Fletcher gone and convinced that Sheppard wasn't about to fall out of the chair, Jerod grabbed the oxygen mask from the nearby cabinet and brought it to the Colonel.

He was half expecting a fight, but Sheppard accepted the mask. Before putting it on, however, he looked up and met Jerod's eyes. "Happen to have… any clothes stashed in here?"

Jerod looked at the man again, remembered that he was only wearing pants - no shirt, no boots or socks - and those pants were… well, they weren't panting much anymore. In fact, the holes and stench alone were almost offensive. Jerod cringed as he looked at them, which earned him an eye roll from the Colonel.

"They didn't… offer laundry service."

Jerod smiled sadly and nodded. "Sorry, sir. Let me look."

Of all the boring days he spent at this post, doing inventory and simply exploring, he didn't ever remember there being a plethora of clothing choices. Still, he remembered seeing sweatpants or something similar before. He helped the Colonel get the mask on and immediately went rummaging through the cabinets until he spotted something that looked like sweats. He pulled it out and realized it was only a pair of pants. Still, it was better than nothing.

But when he shook out the dusty garment, he could barely contain a snicker. Written in large letters along the outside of the pants leg in bright white letters against dark cloth, read USMC. Jerod held them up for the Colonel, whose expression went from relieved to incredulous almost instantly.

Still, he shook his head slightly and chuckled. He moved the mask aside for a moment and mumbled, "Never thought… I'd end up in… a Marine's pants."

Jerod laughed and brought them over to his CO. "I bet they will suit you just fine."

Sheppard looked up at him and seemed to understand what Jerod was trying to say.

"You saying… I'd make a good Marine?"

Jerod smirked and shrugged, "You're a little scrawny but other than that, you got the fight of a Marine."

Colonel Sheppard nodded with a slight smile and replaced the mask, letting his head fall almost to his chest. Jerod knew they didn't have much longer before he would require a full medical team to get him out of the outpost. He glanced at his watch and realized it should be any minute now.

Just then, Fletcher reappeared in the doorway. "Still locked out but I think maybe three to five minutes more. Oh, you found pants? Good."

"I'll put them on… myself," Sheppard mumbled from under the mask. Knowing there was no point in fighting and assuming whatever under garments he had on would likely be tossed as well, he pointed to the door.

"We'll be right outside."

Once outside the door, he turned to Fletcher who still had a look of awe on his face.

"I can't believe this," he said slowly, both amazed and with a hint of sadness. As great as it was to have the man back, it was hard to see anyone in such terrible shape. Fletcher then seemed to remember something and immediately started taking off his tac vest.

"What are you doing?" Jerod asked.

"I'm bigger than him and I have an undershirt on," Fletcher responded simply, unbuttoning his shirt. "I'm sure he'd rather walk through the 'gate with a little dignity, especially since you found a replacement for those awful BDU's he had on."

Jerod smiled and nodded at his partner's forward thinking. The button up shirt would be plenty loose enough to not aggravate the arm splint or back wounds, but enough to cover at least some of his broken and exposed body from all the people who would be looking on as the Colonel made his triumphant return.

"My God," Fletcher breathed in disbelief, "did you see his wrists?! I just can't imagine…"

Jerod had no words so he only shook his head slowly. Everything from the wrists to the intentional incisions… it was thing of nightmares and yet a reminder that something like that could happen to any one of them every time they stepped foot out the 'gate. And yet, Jerod wondered how many could not only survive it as long as Sheppard had and rescue themselves but also somehow manage to do all of that without being completely broken mentally.

After a moment, they heard a grumble, which Jerod assumed was either a cry for help or to let them know he was ready. Regardless, Jerod chose to move in.

Standing, swaying, in the middle of the building was Colonel Sheppard now sporting the black sweatpants.

"Nice pants, sir," Fletcher greeted from behind Jerod, and he could just hear the huge smile. Colonel Sheppard rolled his eyes again and held his good arm out as if to beckon them.

"Here you go, sir," Fletcher said as he held out the shirt. For a moment, Sheppard looked at it and then up at them, a deep sense of gratitude on his exhausted and pained face.

"Thanks," he huffed, his breathing now worse than ever, especially with the oxygen mask removed. They helped him get the shirt on, choosing to leave it unbuttoned for sake of time as well as not putting any pressure on his back. Jerod then grabbed the oxygen tank to keep with him so that the Colonel could still wear the mask.

"Should be time," Jerod announced, checking his watch. "We can have them bring the gurney to you, sir."

Sheppard shook his head as he held his arms out. "Nah. Gonna make you… lug me through for… making fun of pants… And… I smell. So enjoy that."

They laughed heartily and took position without further question. Jerod wasn't surprised at all that the man would prefer to walk through the 'gate; He was a soldier through and through. It was awkward being on the side with the splinted arm, but Jerod just focused on holding onto the man's bony hip instead of holding his wrist as would be the normal method.

Together, the three of them slowly, painfully, began hobbling back towards the 'gate. They had to stop once or twice, but only for a moment. Thankfully it wasn't far at all, but he imagined the Colonel felt a little differently about that assessment. When they finally reached the bottom of the ramp, one look at Fletcher confirmed the plan. Jerod shifted the Colonel's weight to Fletcher before running to the DHD. Sheppard didn't offer to stand on his own this time.

A feeling of intense relief flooded his veins as the wormhole activated. He glanced at the other two and saw similar looks. Colonel Sheppard was finally coming home. Jerod quickly entered his IDC and waited for a response.

"Sgt. Brooks, this is Dr. Weir," the expedition leader spoke, a hint of concern in her voice at the unscheduled activation they had just initiated. But Jerod, on the other hand, could barely contain his excitement. "Is something wrong?"

"No ma'am!" he began, but then shook his head. "I mean, yes ma'am. We need a medical team in the gateroom."

There was a brief pause before she responded, "You're welcome to come through but what's the nature of your emergency?"

Where should he even start? The man was probably having issues with his lungs, bloodloss, infection…

"Well ma'am, Colonel Sheppard decided to come for a visit and looks like he had a rough couple of weeks. We are about to help him through."

"Understood," Dr. Weir responded excitedly after a pause. "Bring him home."

Already rejoining the others, he took his spot under the injured arm and together, they made their way up the ramp, careful to avoid the multitudes of debris still littering the walkway from Colonel Sheppard's epic escape.

And as they neared the blue event horizon, Jerod couldn't help but think that if he was going to have an easy day on post interrupted with explosions and unexpected chaos, he couldn't think of a better way to do it.

TBC...

End note: There's the first bit. If you like it, please leave a review. Even constructive criticism is welcome. Thank ya