There and Back Again (2/2)

[everybetty]

Sitting in the chair across from John's bed, Ronon waits, his friend's Wraith leathers folded across his lap. While studying the jacket in search of clues about John's long absence, Ronon's discovered three more knives sewed inside the linings and a pouch filled with coins from various worlds. Tracing the crude design etched over one of them, he wonders how many planets his friend has seen during his running, how many Wraith have fallen dead beneath his feet.

And why John's never once tried to come home.

A groan from the bed signals a possible answer. John stirs, fighting the drugs that flow through his body. His lips move in silent conversation, facial muscles and eyes twitching erratically. Ronon reaches out to calm him and is surprised when a hand juts out, grabbing his wrist.

“Where am I?” John demands in a rasp, fingers digging in.

Ronon peers at fever-glazed eyes, but behind the haze is deadly determination. “You're on Atlantis.”

“Atlantis?” John whispers, frowning.

“Your home,” Ronon reiterates.

“No,” John mumbles, grip loosening. “No...it isn’t real.”

“Look around you. Your eyes don't lie.”

Despite recent surgery, John uses his grip on Ronon's arm to pull himself up, jaw clenched tight from the effort. Glancing down at his gauze wrapped arm and sling, he stares at his gown, taking in all the wires stuck to his chest and the tubes in his veins.

Lines of pain crinkle around his eyes as he grimaces. “It can't be real.” Releasing Ronon's arm, John groans again. “I...I've got to get out of here. Can't...stay...”

“We got the tracker out. The Wraith can't find you anymore.” John's not listening - Ronon snags his friend's hand, stopping him from shoving away the sheets so he can bolt. “You can stop running, John.”

Breathing faster now, arms trembling, John stares at Ronon. Actually looks at him. “Atlantis?” he breathes.

“Yes.”

There's a flicker of recognition, then John cries out, eyes rolling back as his body goes limp.

Ronon yells for help, the chair toppling over as he leaps to his feet.

***

Waiting is not one of skills. Neither is patience - Ronon wears away a track in the floor, itching for more productive ways to channel his energy.

Teyla watches him warily, her frown deepening as every second ticks away. “Maybe it would be easier to leave and grab something to eat than to be in the way?” Sighing heavily when he doesn't answer, she cuts in front of him halfway through his circuit. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Doesn't matter.”

She arches an eyebrow in annoyance and Ronon ceases his pacing. “The last time,” he starts, fumbling with his thoughts. “The last time I wasn't by his side, we lost him.”

“And that wasn't your fault.”

“Wasn't it?”

“Surely you do not believe that?”

“I didn't go on that supply mission because I knew it'd be boring.”

“None of us went. And none of us are at fault. There was no predicting the Wraith attack.”

But Sheppard had asked Ronon to go. It'd been a casual request, one made in desperation because Sheppard knew damn well he'd have nothing to do and Ronon had actually grinned in mischievous pleasure when he said no.

Taking his elbow, Teyla slides her fingers down his arm, curls them around his wrist. “A fool wastes time on the past, a poet the future, but a warrior does something about today. Because---”

“Today is what matters,” he finishes the famous Satedan quote.

“Come on, we will grab Rodney and eat a meal. He has been studying the remains of the tracking device.”

“Why?”

“He says it appears different than the one used on you. I think it gives him something to occupy his mind, but he hopes it will explain John's amnesia.”

***

Lunch - or had it been dinner? doesn't last long. It'd been impossible to extract Rodney from his work to join them even for a few minutes and the mess is filled with too many curious, prying eyes and whispered rumors for Ronon to bear. After shoveling down a huge helping of meatloaf that settles in the pit of his belly like a stone, they head straight to the infirmary.

With Teyla right at his side, they spot Jennifer, following her as she settles wearily into a chair by her desk, fingers massaging a crick in her neck. “I'm supposed to wait and give any findings to Woolsey before anyone else, but I can guess how well that'll fly.”

Ronon doesn't hesitate barging ahead with the question burning inside him. “Did you find anything with your tests?”

“I've run an EEG, MRI, even a PET scan.” Staring at their bewildered faces, Jennifer sighs, pulling out a PDA and laying it down. “I know, too many acronyms. I've done imagery studies and an ultrasound. But even the Ancient scanner didn't show anything unusual.”

“Nothing?” Teyla asks in dismay.

“Well...”

“What?” Ronon demands, frustration and exhaustion putting an edge on his voice.

Leaning back in her chair, finger tapping the edge of her PDA, Jennifer shakes her head in annoyance. “There were moments of increased activity during his EEG. I can't pinpoint what triggered them, but there were some unusual spikes a few times. I'm going to have to study the data to see if I can figure out a pattern.”

“And how was he during the tests?” Teyla inquires, unable to hide her worry.

“I had to keep him medicated most of the time given his injuries. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since his surgery and he's still running a low-grade fever. The few times he was lucid, he was clearly agitated.”

“With no memory of who he is or Atlantis, it must be incredibly frightening.”

Glancing up at Teyla, even Jennifer doesn't appear immune to the heavy burden of guilt. “I would have held off on the scans, but given the way Ronon described how Colonel Sheppard passed out earlier, it sounds suspiciously neurological to me.”

More questions. More waiting. Ronon is not sure how much more he can endure.

“Could we see him? Just for a few minutes?”

Blowing out a tired breath, Jennifer gives in to Teyla's request. “He's resting, but even though he doesn't remember you, I think maybe your presence will be reassuring in some way.”

***

The two Marines posted outside the curtained barrier nod at Ronon and Teyla as they go around the divider. They find John sitting up in bed, wary eyes following their every move in suspicion, his right hand shoving something under the sheet on their entrance. Scanning the picked over meal tray, Ronon surmises what's being concealed.

“Am I prisoner here?” John demands, scrutinizing them.

“No, John. You are not,” Teyla tries to persuade him. “We've told you, this is your home.”

“Yeah?” John scoffs. “Then what's with the guards?”

It's a trick question. One made to gather intel. There's no doubt John could take out his security detail even in his weakened state.

“They are here merely as a precaution,” Teyla explains, stepping closer to the bed. “It is standard protocol when one of us has been away for an extended period of time without contact.”

“Your rules,” Ronon reiterates.

“Mine?”

“Yes,” Teyla says without hesitation, head held high. “When you are feeling better, I am sure everything will slowly come back to you.”

“I'm fine. Give me back my clothes and I’ll be on my way.” As if to prove his point, John rips away the leads attached to his chest with his good hand, the swollen fingers of his left fumbling for his IV next.

“Stop it,” Ronon orders, reaching for John's wrist, watching his eyes go dark and flat. “You gonna stab me with that hidden fork? Make a run for it?” Ronon asks, waiting. When John doesn't move, doesn’t flinch, Ronon remains stock-still. “You kill Wraith. Not strangers and never your friends.”

Blood dribbles down John's arm, onto the white sheets. A faint scar from the tip of a blade runs across his temple, into his hairline, framing a pulsating vein. Wetting his lips, face scrunching up in confusion, John releases a breath. “You're my friends?”

The uncertainty is so raw, so filled with naked hope that Ronon chokes on his response.

“We are,” Teyla answers thankfully, tears brimming in her eyes. “Oh, John. We're your family.”

“I…” John stammers, the hardened shell of a warrior crumbling a little. “I had these dreams, I think...of a city on the ocean. Of people with your faces, but...” He swallows thickly, squeezing his eyes closed. “They were just dreams. Just images from when...when...”

“When what, John?” Teyla encourages.

“When that bitch was inside here,” John grinds out, digging a knuckle into his temple. “Clawing and clawing and...” Groaning in pain, he presses a thumb into his eye. “God...”

“It is okay. You are safe, nothing can harm you anymore,” Teyla reassures him, her eyes darting between Ronon and their suffering friend. “Sshh, it is all right, John. I promise.”

Grabbing both his shoulders to steady him, Teyla rubs her hands up and down John’s arms in soothing motions. It seems to have a tranquilizing effect and John quiets, his body slumping forward in exhaustion. Whether by instinct or an attempt at calming him further, Teyla touches her forehead to his.

Both of their bodies stiffen in reaction, Teyla gasping in shock, John sucking in a pained breath. Ronon stands there, frozen, watching something happen, caught between action and inaction.

There's a moment where he thinks Teyla and John are locked together by some invisible force, before Teyla breaks from him with a gasp, like severing a link.

Ronon's there, ready to catch her if she falls, but she stands there, swaying slightly, breathing rapidly, everything about her screaming, 'don't touch me.'

John slumps against the bed as if his muscles have turned to jelly, his pupils blown wide. Blood still seeps slowly from the IV hole.

“Teyla!” Ronon growls.

“I will be all right,” she grits out, sweat glistening on her face. “That was... unexpected.”

“What happened?'

Still catching her breath, Teyla turns to Ronon, her voice razor thin with anger. “I believe I know what has happened to John.”

***

Nurses work on getting John settled back in bed and putting in another IV. Ronon hears them discussing restraints and he is about to wheel on them when he hears them decide on a gauze wrap over the IV site. For now.

He brings his attention back to the small group that has gathered outside John’s cubicle. Jennifer jerks her head towards her office and they stream in. Ronon remains at the door while the rest squeeze into spaces in the small room. He closes the door behind them and all murmuring stops as Teyla wipes the hair from her forehead.

Her voice is hesitant. “In preparation for my role as Queen, Todd provided… instruction. On the history of Wraith, on their basic physiology… the hierarchies in place. On their culture and their personal interaction dynamics. It was all necessary for me to… play my part to the best of my ability.”

“Your subterfuge worked as planned,” Woolsey says with a small nod of encouragement. “I’d say the… instruction was likely invaluable.”

Ronon shifts uneasily. He’d never approved of Teyla’s role as Queen - still doesn’t, in spite of how it worked out. But he waits to hear her out.

“Thank you, Mr. Woolsey. The Wraith have the ability to share thoughts. Often across great distances. There are… levels of…” She shifts her head as she tries to put her thoughts into halting words. “Intimacy? As a race, they share a broad but… shallow connection. On the Hive level, a deeper connection and deeper still for those with… familial bonds.”

“Family?” Ronon can’t help but snort. “Seriously?”

Rodney pipes up with a dashed look at Teyla’s frown. “Maybe not family, but um, batches of eggs? Hatched together? We have always worked under the assumption that the Iratus gene is what gives them that connection, the way ants and bees can share signals.”

Teyla nods. “But, the Wraith are also part human. And as humans we… recoil at thoughts intruding upon our own. Wraith share willingly but they also build…” She shakes her head before finishing. “They build, for lack of a better description, walls. Within their minds. They are able to partition off thoughts and feelings so they are not shared unwillingly. To force contact beyond these walls is considered… an assault of the most intimate kind.”

“Who’d have thought Wraith had morals,” Lorne grunts from where he’s stood quietly in the corner, arms folded across his chest.

All this talk of Wraith as if they were anything but monsters feeds the embers of anger and frustration he’s carried and it’s all Ronon can do to clench his jaw against a scream.

“What does all this have to do with what happened to Sheppard?” he manages to growl through his teeth.

Teyla blanches at his outburst but he doesn’t avert his gaze. “I wanted to tell you all this because… I … somehow I entered John’s mind.”

There are looks exchanged among the people in the office and Ronon understands her hesitation. He knows they all look on the Gift as a tool they use but don’t quite always trust. He knows he hasn’t always. But it’s Teyla, and he can see by the look on her face what it cost her to admit it.

“Okay,” he replies simply. “What did you see?”

“Devastation.”

Jennifer clears her throat and puts on her professional face. “Can you, um, be more specific?”

“John had managed to build walls of his own. I don’t know if this is something that we all can do, as humans. I have never entered another human’s mind before. But he has walls I have seen in Wraith minds. Only these walls are in ruins. Nothing but… what is left is jagged. And raw. As Queen I forced my will on many Wraith and at best I was able to… force… doors open.” She sighs and a small sob slips out. “I have no way to explain it better. I am so sorry.”

Rodney drops a hand on Teyla’s shoulder and quirks her a small smile. “I think we get that. Keep going.”

She pats Rodney’s hand and nods. “Only an extremely powerful Queen could be responsible. But what she did was reckless. It lacked… finesse? Like a storm laying waste to newly planted crops. It would have no purpose. If she hoped to gain information from him, she destroyed any chance of that.”

“Could Sheppard have taken down his own walls? Deliberately, to keep her from getting in his head?”

Teyla ponders Lorne’s question for a moment before shaking her head. “I do not know.” The corner of her mouth turns up. “Not that I would put it past him, no matter the cost. But my feeling is no. There is a lingering… echo. Of Her. I sense violence and fury. There is something more… but it was too fast.”

“Can you go back in?”

She gazes back at Ronon, his question hanging in the room. “I… it was accidental. And his reaction…”

Jennifer shrugs. “His vitals are normalizing and the nurses report he’s already coming back around. You didn’t cause him any physical harm and I could give him some medication to relax him and -“

“You’re - you’re serious? You buy into all this? You’re encouraging it?” Rodney’s eyes are wide with surprise tinged with horror.

Jennifer nods and exchanges a look with Teyla. “I worked side by side with Teyla and Todd on her transformation. I am very aware that this kind of mind-to-mind contact takes place and while I recognize Teyla’s reluctance, I can make it easier. On both of them. And I think it’s probably our only shot. Medicine has done all it can for him right now.”

“I would only do it with his permission,” Teyla adds.

“He’ll give it,” Ronon says. “He wants answers more than any of us.”

Woolsey clears his throat. “It would be good to know what information, if any, this Queen obtained from Colonel Sheppard.” He has the courtesy to show his reluctance but Lorne nods at his side in agreement. “The colonel would - will - want us to do this.”

Rodney sighs loudly and drops his hands to his hips. “I guess I’m the only one who thinks mind melding with the brain-damaged man isn’t a good idea. Then again, I’m probably the only one in this room that’s seen every episode of Star Trek.”

***

The whole group eventually moves back to John’s cubicle. As Jennifer had predicted, John is awake and sitting up. Ronon notices the fork is back on the tray and counts it as a good sign that John doesn’t eye it as they file in.

Lorne and Woolsey each acknowledge John with hopes for a speedy recovery and then take their leave. Lorne meets eyes with Ronon on his way out and dismisses the Marine guards.

John watches the hulking shadows on the other side of the curtain leave and relaxes a little in the bed before staring at his visitors.

His gaze lingers on Teyla and he squirms uncomfortably, massages at his arm above the bandages. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I don’t know what happened.”

Teyla moves towards him and he pulls back slightly. Slowly, she reaches forward, takes his hand, mindful of the new IV riding there, and rubs his fingers. “John, it was not your fault. It is I who should apologize. It was unintentional.”

His hand jerks free and he stares at her. “You… you were in my head.”

“For the briefest of moments, yes. I am sorry, John.”

“What did you see?”

She shakes her head. “I was not in contact with you for long, John. But, I do believe I have an idea as to what happened to you.”

His fingers dig deeper into his arm, slip under the bandaging to worry closer to the incision.

“Colonel, I can give you something for the pain,” Jennifer says.

“No! No, I… it helps me stay clear.” He struggles to sit straighter. “Go on. What happened?”

“I … I cannot be certain, but there may be a way to find out.”

“How?”

“With your permission, I would like to try again. To share your thoughts.”

“Share?” His eyes narrow and his back stiffens.

“Yes, share, John. If it works, my mind would be open to yours as well. Perhaps if you were to see that you have nothing to be afraid of from me… from us... learning to trust us would be a step towards bringing you back to us for good.”

“Trust you? I’m the one under guard here.”

“Guards are gone, Sheppard,” Ronon reminds him.

But John’s piercing gaze scans him warily. “They left you.”

Ronon takes the hit - it hurts more than he will let show- but he just nods. “I’ll go, if you want. Then it’ll be just Teyla and the doc. You’re not scared of McKay, are you?”

Rodney draws up to protest but settles for rolling his eyes before pinning on a benign smile.

“And if I want to leave?”

Jennifer hugs her datapad against her chest and sighs. “No one will make you stay, Colonel. Your arm is currently stabilized with metal pins and will likely heal poorly without proper treatment. You have a systemic infection that is being treated with antibiotics and antipyretics. I can give you bandages and painkillers, antibiotics if you’ll take them, and you could quite possibly survive on your own. The tracker has been removed so you’ll be free to go to any world you’d like. I’m sure Dr McKay could find you a suitable address to gate to.”

Rodney stutters out a nod of agreement, his neck stiff with tension. “Hot and sunny, sand, surf. Snow and mountains. Whichever. I know you like them both.”

John’s lifts his heavily bandaged arm, flexes it at the elbow a few times before grimacing and laying it back down. “How long would I have to stay for it to heal right?”

“A few weeks- maybe a month. I’ll put a fiberglass cast on it once the incision heals.”

John lets his head drop against the pillow. His hand pulls the blanket up further on his chest and he looks at Rodney. “Hot. Definitely hot and sunny. Feel like I’ve been cold forever.”

“I’ll, uh, look for Planet Malibu for you. If you’re gonna leave, I mean.”

John nods without an answer then looks back at Teyla. “So how does this sharing thing work?”

***

Ronon tries to keep his bulk out of the way, huddling in a corner of the cubicle while Jennifer and a nurse give John a once over, checking bandages and leads, prepping syringes from little glass bottles. Rodney and the nurse dance around each other as the nurse tries to go to the other side of the bed. Rodney finally takes the corner opposite Ronon and worries at a ragged cuticle.

Teyla is small and graceful, manages to never be where the nurses need to be.

“Okay,” Jennifer announces. “Once the thiopental is on board it should act pretty quickly. Colonel, you should only feel relaxed. Sleepy even. If you feel like falling asleep, go ahead.”

John is clearly tense, his posture stiff. He stares at the prepped syringes on the metal tray then his eyes dart about at all the people standing around. “You really think I could sleep through all of this?”

The doctor rests a hand on his shoulder, then pulls it away when John flinches. “Sorry. Force of habit. Well, the more relaxed you are the better this will work.” She glances over at Rodney. The physicist’s shoulders are tightly hunched and blood stains one of his fingers where’s he’s gotten overeager with a cuticle. “I could show you how it works on Rodney first.”

John shifts uneasily on the bed but shakes his head shortly.

Jennifer picks up the first syringe and is about to insert it in the port when John’s hand shoots up and grabs her wrist. She winces a little under his grip and Ronon takes a step forward, out of pure instinct.

John eases his hold a little but keeps his fingers in place. He’s seen Ronon’s reaction and a sickly smile curls the corner of his mouth. “Thought so,” he mutters. He pushes Jennifer’s hand away brusquely. “No drugs. No sharing.” He puts a sneer on the word.

Rodney snorts out a breath and wheels about, leaves the cubicle without a word.

Teyla’s face falls and she pats the bed near John’s head. “Perhaps another time,” is all she says and then she too leaves the room.

“You’re making a mistake, Sheppard.”

John’s glare has ice in it. “Mine to make. You said.”

“And we meant it,” Jennifer says, capping the syringe and gesturing to the nurse to leave. “No one will make you do anything you don’t want to do, Colonel.”

She exits and Ronon is left staring down his friend in the bed. Anger fills his blood, reddens his face and quickens his breath. “So that’s it? Not even gonna try?”

“To what end? Have you drug me up and screw around in my head? And for what?”

“We were trying to help.”

“Help what?”

“Find out what the hell happened to you.”

“Why do you care?”

Ronon lets his fists go lax at his sides. “Because we do. Because I promised I was gonna bring you back. All the way back.”

John’s back to digging under the bandages again but his fingers still for the briefest of moments. Then he turns his head away.

Ronon tries one last time. “Never known you to be a quitter, Sheppard.”

John’s eyes close and he drops his head back before muttering, “Maybe you don’t know me at all.”

***

Ronon returns to the infirmary a few hours later. Jennifer catches him and gives him a sad smile. “He was on the balcony. At least the last time I checked.”

Ronon nods and hefts the package he’s carrying. “Just got something to drop off.”

“Great minds think alike,” she replies enigmatically.

When he enters the cubicle he understands. Other things are already piled on the empty bed. A pair of bantos sticks, scarred with use and wrapped together with a leather thong sits atop a plastic sheath-encased picture of Teyla holding Torren as a baby and his ‘uncles.’ He could just make out Chuck making bunny ears over Radek’s head in the background. Sheppard and Rodney hold RC cars. Ronon stands as always, arms crossed over his chest, but he’s smiling. Carson is making a funny face while Lorne holds a stuffed animal, its fur nubby and damp from chewing.

Ronon remembers the day clearly. Torren had been teething and they’d barely gotten the picture in between crying jags.

Next to the sticks is a red leather medic’s bag, stuffed full and bulging. Jennifer seems to have put everything in there but an Ancient scanner.

Rodney’s left a GDO and a piece of paper with his familiar block printing. A list of several series of glyphs runs from the top. A key is next that Rodney has coded with childlike interpretations of suns, water and palm trees for some, snowflakes and triangle mountains for others. At the bottom his script gets looser and the pen smudges a little. ‘You don’t have to tell us where you go. But the GDO will always let you come back.’

As Ronon is standing there Lorne comes striding in but draws up short when he sees the Satedan. Lorne blushes lightly and lifts the package he carries and smiles a little. “Just some things I thought might make it a little easier out there for him. Bad news travels fast,” he adds.

He puts his gift on the bed. It’s a pack they’ve all carried on their backs many times but it’s a little misshapen and bulges out from its usual compact form. Ronon suspects more than the usual bedroll and field kit have been packed in. “What all is in there?”

Lorne feigns casualness. “Oh, you know. Utensils, waterproof matches. Compass, hand crank lantern. Uh, two Glocks, extra cartridges, couple bang sticks. And um, just some extra socks… and uh, tea.”

Ronon lifts an eyebrow at the last and Lorne blushes more deeply. “Long story. Anyway… I’m really hoping he stays but… At least I’ll feel better knowing he’s a little better prepared, you know?”

Ronon places his own stuff on the bed. It’s John’s leathers, sewn and mended, and pre-loaded with all new sharpened knives. Some from Ronon’s personal collection. Along with it are two pairs of BDUs, black tees from John’s bureau in his old room and a necklace of Wraith teeth that Ronon won’t ever wear again.

“Yeah. I know.”

He gives Lorne a pound on the shoulder as he leaves - the major has done a fine job as military commander in Sheppard’s absence but right now he looks like a kid knowing his big brother is headed off to the war. He looks like how Ronon feels.

Ronon passes through the maze of the infirmary but pulls up to a stop at the glass doors.

John stands at the balcony, wrapped in a blanket and supporting himself with his good hand on the railing.

He stares off into the darkness.

Ronon follows his gaze, sees pinpoints of orange against the black. The Athosian encampment on the mainland has several large fires going at all times. Some are for cooking, the others for pottery and metalwork.

A breeze from off the water ruffles John’s long hair and he pulls the blanket in tighter.

Ronon watches as John lifts his eyes to the heavens, follows with his own gaze. The night sky has more stars than black. Ronon shares the stars with his friend for a moment then slips away.

***

He tells himself he’s not going to go by the infirmary. John has made it clear that Ronon’s presence is unwelcome.

Ronon considers his options. Find someone to beat up in the gym. Find a team to join and hope he finds something to shoot at. That thought leads to fantasies of finding the Wraith bitch who started all this in the first place and sticking the muzzle of his blaster in her inhuman maw and pulling the trigger until her head is a lump of smoking gore.

Worked up, he growls and strides toward the door of his quarters, no clear destination in mind but rage pulling him onwards. He waves a hand over the sensor and barrels through, right smack into Rodney.

The physicist bounces several steps back and rubs at his chest. “Hey, you overgrown-“

“Outa my way, McKay!”

“Where the hell are you storming off to? And why are you yelling at me?”

A hundred retorts pile up on his tongue. Rodney is always an easy outlet for his temper, mostly because the man always gives back as good as he gets. But the words fade away at Rodney’s expression. There’s none of the usual annoyance and ego. He has his hands stuffed in his pockets and casts his eyes away at Ronon’s angry glare.

“I wasn’t heading anywhere,” he answers gruffly. “And that’s not yelling- just me.”

“Well you ‘weren’t heading anywhere’ with quite a head of steam,” Rodney smiles back. “Why don’t I suggest a place to head to? Say, the infirmary?”

“He’s still here?”

“Yup.”

Ronon scowls at the returning smugness. “He doesn’t want me there.”

“Yes, he does.” The head cock and raised eyebrows look way more familiar on the physicist’s face.

“Oh yeah? And what makes you think that?”

“Because he asked for you. For us, actually. You, me - Teyla.”

Ronon feels a surge of hope then shakes his head. “Probably just saying goodbye.”

“Now why would a man say goodbye to people he doesn’t even know? C’mon, Conan. You’re smarter than that. At least, I’ve always suspected you were.”

Ronon refrains from punching him and follows him to the infirmary.

***

John is sitting on the bed, clad in scrub pants, with a blanket thrown over his legs and feet and another draped over his shoulders and the sling. He’s playing with a knife - Ronon recognizes it as one he’d loaded in John’s gear. None of the other gifts is visible. Ronon dashes a look at Rodney but he just shrugs and shakes his head.

John looks up at their entrance, gives each an appraising gaze before locking eyes with Ronon. “You came back.”

“So did you.”

John nods and turns back to the knife he’s been idly but skillfully tossing in his hand. “This is nice. Good weight, well-balanced. Could be honed a little sharper.”

Ronon gives him a feral grin, allows himself to be baited if only for the brief familiarity. “Didn’t want you to cut yourself.”

Without warning, John lofts the knife at Ronon. Ronon grabs it from the air with a lightning fast reach and flips the blade end-over-end a few times, not above a little taunting of his own.

“You keep it,” John says. “It’s a little too flashy. And besides… it looks like I won’t need it for a while.”

Before Ronon can ask, Teyla and Jennifer come in, smiles on their faces. “Good,” Jennifer says. “I’m glad you guys were able to come.” She makes it sound like she’s hosting a party. “Colonel Sheppard has agreed to try our little experiment.”

“What made you change your mind?”

John takes a while to answer before he raps a knuckle lightly on his head. “Not much in here worth taking, so if you find something, more power to you. And I’m tired of living with ghosts,” he adds softly. “However I am… isn’t right. I see… faces. Yours… others. I need to know. I… I shouldn’t trust you,” he says with a shake of his head. “But I feel like I have to if I have any hope of getting back what I lost.”

He casts his eyes around the room at the others and offers a sad smile. “I feel like what I lost is pretty important.” He averts his eyes, wipes a hand on the sheet and the corner of his pillow lifts. Ronon catches a glint of light, a glimpse of the plastic-covered picture before the pillow covers it once more.

***

A little bit of fussing by Jennifer and John is back in bed, his wrapped arm resting on a pillow. He aims for relaxed but Ronon can see the tension knotting his muscles and John is back to kneading at the bridge of his nose. He knows what that can portend.

“Head hurt?” he asks with a chin thrust.

Jennifer looks up as John drops his hand. “Not like it has,” John answers. “Whatever it is, it seems to be getting a little more used to your presence. Or something.”

“That’s a good sign,” Jennifer proclaims chipperly. “I’d still suggest the thiopental if you have no objections.”

John stares at her for a moment then blows out a long sigh. “Yeah. The headache’s getting worse.”

A look is shared among their little group and John’s eyebrows rise as he shifts uncomfortably. “What?”

Rodney just smiles and shrugs. “Just an unusual thing to hear from Colonel It’s Just a Flesh Wound.”

“Yeah. Complaining’s more what we hear from McKay,” Ronon snorts.

“Hey!”

“Now, now boys,” Jennifer scolds but it’s clear she’s happy to hear a little of the old banter. “Although, it is true, Colonel. If you’re speaking up about a headache I assume it’s a pretty bad one.”

“It’s not that bad,” John mutters, but it’s clear from the fingers burrowing into his forehead that it is.

“Well, not that bad or not, I’ll fix you up a nice cocktail.” She empties two syringes into the IV port and soon John is melting back into the pillows, his eyes closed, his breathing even. Jennifer checks the monitors then gives a nod.

Teyla fits her small frame onto the bed, crosses her legs and picks up John’s hand, folding it between her two much smaller ones. She takes a few centering breaths and closes her eyes.

The connection is fast. Ronon watches as her posture immediately stiffens and her breathing grows faster.

“Teyla?”

“I can hear you, Jennifer. I am all right. The damage is…” She rolls her neck and slows her breathing then doesn’t speak for a minute.

Rodney shifts on his feet and knits his hands together while Jennifer keeps watch on the monitors.

Without warning, Teyla’s eyes open but they stare at a point above John’s head. “It is a Queen’s chambers. They are large - too large for a Hive ship. There is no engine thrum. I… he… we are heavily guarded… there is a throne, high on a pedestal. A door slides open and a troop of Wraith in formation file out. They bear a covered chair to the foot of the pedestal. The curtains pull back - oh. She is - She is just a child, barely into adolescence. She turns her eyes to us. Smiles. She… smiles, at us.”

In an eerie echo of her words Teyla suddenly turns her eyes to John’s slack face and her lips curl into an icy grin. She drops John’s hand and claps gleefully. “You have brought me a present!” Teyla licks her lips and flexes her fingers. Takes a deep sniff of the air. “This one smells more delicious than any you have brought before.”

Teyla places her hand on John’s bare chest. He flinches and moans and his brow wrinkles.

“Are we - should she--?”

“She can’t do anything, Rodney,” Jennifer hisses. But she still gives Ronon a wary glance before pinning her eyes back on the macabre scene.

With a howl, Teyla rips her hand away as if burned. “What is the meaning of this?” Her chest heaves and her fingers claw. Then she shuts her eyes and cants her head. “This one has been fed upon before. How does this abomination still live?”

When her eyes open they are cold, harder than Ronon has ever seen them, even at the heights her fury can reach. She places her hand back at John’s throat, her nails imprinting on his flesh. “You will tell me what I want to know.”

John’s eyes spring open and his hand wraps around Teyla’s wrist but doesn’t try to push it away. His gaze is as hot as hers is icy.

“Sheppard, John. Lt Colonel, United States Air Force. Serial Number-“

Teyla growls and her nails dig in a little deeper. “Tell me.”

“Sheppard, John. Lt Colonel, United States-“

The first of Teyla’s nails draws blood and Rodney takes a step forward. “This is going too far!”

Teyla and John continue their litanies between heaving breaths while Jennifer stares intently at the monitors. “He’s okay, Rodney.” But she dashes a look at Ronon, doubt clear on her face.

This is not the first time they’ve seen Teyla channeling a Wraith Queen but this grotesque play being put on for them is unlike anything they’ve witnessed. Ronon is torn, wanting to see it through as much as he wants to wrench Teyla away and wake them both up.

“Sheppard, John--”

“This is not possible!” Teyla screeches, rips her hand away, arm poised to deliver a devastating backhand. Ronon doesn’t even think, he just grabs a hold of her wrist. Teyla is strong, and she fights him. As she pulls away John goes completely stiff and his eyes squeeze shut. He manages to grit through his teeth, barely more than a hiss, “Shep -ard,” before he cries out and slams the heel of his palm into his forehead. He bites back a groan he can’t quite muffle as he folds into himself.

Jennifer grabs the call button and rings for help as Ronon grabs Teyla and bodily hauls her from the bed. She goes limp in his arms and he pushes a curtain away to lay her on a nearby bed.

Rodney mutters, “I knew this was a bad idea.” But he looks to Jennifer, eyes wide. “What can I do?”

“Nothing, Rodney. We’ve got this under control.”

John is still pounding his hand against his head and Rodney scowls. “Does it look like this is under control?”

“Rodney! Not. Helping. Colonel Sheppard? What’s going on?”

John just makes an incomprehensible sound.

A nurse rushes in with a syringe that Jennifer deftly empties into his IV port. It only takes a moment for the medication to take effect; John finally sags against his pillows and his breathing slows.

Rodney dashes a look at Teyla on the neighboring bed and back to John’s now unconscious form. “What the hell have we done?”

***

Teyla takes the pills from Jennifer and allows Ronon to help guide her still shaky hand around the small cup of water.

She looks up at their expectant faces and pushes her blanket down, knits her hands together and takes a few centering breaths. “I am very sorry that I let that happen. Are you certain that John is all right?”

“His vitals have stabilized and I’ve given him some pain meds. Stronger than your Tylenol,” Jennifer adds with a small smile. “The thiopental has a doozy of a kick anyways so it wasn’t anything we didn’t expect.” She chews a lip for a second then clarifies, “At least the headache wasn’t unexpected.”

“What happened?” Rodney finally asks for them all.

Teyla pushes her hair back and blows out a slow exhale. “She - the Queen - was… the most powerful mind I have ever felt. Even beyond that of the Queen we encountered on the drilling platform. And that Queen was ten thousand years old. This one… she was barely more than a child.” She rubs at her head and frowns. “I cannot imagine what power she will wield as she grows.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Rodney mutters. “Just what we need around here. Another super arch-villain.”

“Was Sheppard still in there?”

Teyla looks up at Ronon’s question and shakes her head. “I do not know. She was very… angry does not even touch upon the raw fury I felt. She did not expect to find what she did and the frustration… she did not deal well with it,” she completes, dully. “Time and again she attempted to force her will upon him, to gain the answers she sought. And she met resistance at every turn.” With another deep breath and a small smile she adds, “I believe we can safely advise Mr. Woolsey and Major Lorne that she did not receive any information on Atlantis.”

“If her irresistible force met Sheppard’s immovable object, how did he get… like he is?” Rodney asks.

“Her power felt raw. Undisciplined. She lashed out, without direction. With patience, I believe she would have broken through. But instead, she laid waste.”

“Laid waste,” Rodney echoes in a whisper. “So does that mean he’ll be like this? Forever?”

“We don’t know enough to say for sure, Rodney,” Jennifer says quickly. “I’m intrigued by the fact that this Queen was surprised by what she found. I’ve run dozens of scans and there’s been no change organically in his brain. I don’t know how he developed these… walls. I’m sorry, but there is so little we know about the brain, still. Even with Ancient tech. Maybe you could search the database, Rodney?”

Ronon folds his arms and feels the burn of anger and frustration course through him. “I know where we can find the answer faster,” he says reluctantly.

**

When Chuck announces a response to their hail, Ronon chuffs out a grunt of disbelief. He knows where they’d left things when last they’d met, and he approaches the meeting site with an itch in his trigger finger but forces his hand away from the butt of his gun. He is in the hated position of once again having to ask help from a Wraith.

Todd has a grin on his face that can only be described as smug, even on his inhuman countenance. He chuckles at Ronon’s clear discomfort. “You need something,” he says, his smile broadening, showing sharp teeth.

“Don’t need anything from you,” Ronon bites back. “We offer a trade.”

“A trade… how intriguing. I have no idea what you could possibly have that you think I would want from you, human. Aside from a hot lunch.”

Teyla steps out from the shadows to Ronon’s side. Todd surprisingly backs down and acts, if not deferentially, then with more respect. “My Queen,” he says, his tone only lightly mocking. “I see Ronon Dex was at least wise enough to bring someone with some intelligence and grace to this little meeting.”

“Todd.” Teyla acknowledges him with a slight nod of her head. Ronon watches their little play act; it puts a chill in his blood. “Ronon speaks truth. We offer a trade.”

“Very well, let us hear what you offer,” Todd says.

“We got Sheppard back,” Ronon blurts out before he can give in to the desire to unleash his blaster and smote the Wraith where he stands.

Todd rocks his head back and forth a few times, a very human action that Ronon has never seen a Wraith do. He wonders what else long-term contact with the Lanteans has changed.

“Good,” he says finally.

“Good?” Ronon echoes back.

“Yes, good. I always wanted it to be me who killed John Sheppard.”

Ronon growls and puts his hand on his gun but Teyla stays his action. Todd wheezes out a laugh and turns his back, which pisses Ronon off even more. That a Wraith could feel comfortable enough in his presence to do so compounds the frustration that they need his help.

“So, you got your precious colonel back. I am still not hearing details of this trade.”

“Colonel Sheppard had the walls that you spoke to me of once,” Teyla speaks up.

“Of course he did,” Todd says. “I gave them to him.”

Teyla gasps a little before stammering out, “When? How?”

“Yeah, and why?”

“So many questions,” Todd replies. “I was imprisoned by the Genii for a long time, even as Wraith reckon it. Sheppard was my first opportunity to escape. He… helped me. It was a debt that I was compelled to repay.”

“Why?”

Todd gives Ronon a long, probing look. “Sheppard asked the same question. I give you the same answer. You have much to learn about Wraith.”

Teyla breaks in to their staring standoff. “Please continue.”

“As you know, Sheppard was the fuel for my fight that day. I returned his life force to him. As I did so I put in place what you call walls.”

“To what end?” Teyla prods.

“To protect myself,” Todd growls in response. “During my time with the Genii I lost all position and rank within the Hive. I had many to fight, many to kill before I could regain what I once was. Sheppard was a liability I could not afford.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Ronon snapped.

“Returning his life force. The Gift is something offered only to brothers and our most highly placed worshippers. If Sheppard were to fall into the hands of a rival Hive and they gained knowledge that it was given to him, I would have been killed immediately.”

Todd’s shark toothed grin returns. “Once I gained my rightful place as leader - with my Queen,” he adds with a nod at Teyla, “I considered removing them. But then our… alliance formed and he was given information once again too valuable to have fall into the hands of my enemies.” The grin widens and he cocks his head. “Why so many questions about this?”

Ronon exchanges a look with Teyla before taking the plunge and divulging their reason for being there. “We got Sheppard back. But he’d been taken by a Queen. She wiped his memory.”

Todd appears to consider this news and the grin vanishes. “It would take a Queen of greater power than I have known to do this.”

“This thing you did to Sheppard. Is there any chance he... that he’s still in there somewhere?”

The Wraith lets out another wheezy chuckle and shrugs- another human expression. “Sheppard is the most strong-willed human I have ever encountered. If anyone were to find a way, it would be him.”

“So you can help him?” Teyla blurts out.

“What do you offer?”

“Nothing. Until we find out if you can do anything,” Ronon shoots back.

“I suppose it does no harm in telling you. Since it appears you will be needing my help after all. These ‘walls’ as you call them, have backdoors built into them. As a Hive has secret entrances and exits, so do these walls. Only the builder would know them. If anything remains of what was John Sheppard, it will be behind one of these doors. And again I ask, what do you offer?”

“The Queen that Colonel Sheppard encountered. She is very young. The Wraith under her command are starving.”

“The pictures you showed me,” Todd observes. “Wraith starve. It is a fact of our existence. When the herd thins and food grows scarce. What is this to me?”

“You called them brethren,” Ronon reminds him.

“As I suppose you refer to your own kind,” Todd replies. “Were I to even desire to help them…?”

“Colonel Sheppard was released after the Queen… damaged him. He was still physically able. They turned him into a Runner,” Teyla says. “They began with hunts on their homeworld. Colonel Sheppard saw the position of the moons in the sky - Dr. McKay has been able to determine, based on these moons and the time he was taken, the planet that the colonel was on.”

“It’s your choice,” Ronon says evenly. “Take over the Hive and add them to your numbers. Cull them and use them as your own personal buffet.” He shifts and lets his hand brush the grip of his blaster. “Your choice. If you don’t like either option we’ll go and take them all out ourselves.”

Todd ponders for a moment then nods. “Your offer is acceptable. Besides, when I kill John Sheppard, I want him to recognize me as the bringer of his death.”

***

John sits in a chair on the balcony. It’s the same position he’d been in when Ronon and Teyla went to meet Todd. His eyes rarely stray from the horizon; when they do, it’s to study the stars at night. He eats, sleeps, battles migraines that sideline him in bed, the room darkened and morphine running through his veins. He answers questions and is polite. But there is no Sheppard there.

Ronon ensures that his approach is heard, makes noise as he walks up behind John.

His friend looks up but there is no recognition there beyond a quick threat appraisal. The way he holds his head and his brow furrows, even without noting the IV pole he’s tethered to, Ronon can see he’s battling another headache.

“We’ve brought someone to help you, Sheppard,” Ronon states without preamble.

John’s gaze narrows at the pronouncement.

Before Ronon can go any further, John leaps to his feet and grabs up his IV pole, wielding it like a staff. “Wraith!” he screams and barrels past Ronon.

Teyla steps in front of Todd and holds up a hand. “John! He is here to help you!”

But John continues charging then swings the pole in a wide circle.

Without flinching Todd grabs the pole and wrests it from John’s grip, throws it to the ground.

John throws a punch that makes Todd stagger but the Wraith just smiles and wipes silver-green blood from his lips. “Running has made you stronger, Sheppard.”

Ronon rushes over, lays a hand on John’s shoulder. “Look, Sheppard, I’m no happier about this than you. But this Wraith is the only option we haven’t explored. It was a Wraith that took your memories and it’s a Wraith that’s gonna bring them back.”

John is seething with anger. His chest heaves with ragged breaths and his eyes burn holes through all they touch. “I trusted you!” he growls through gritted teeth.

Teyla’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears as she takes a hesitant step forward. “Please, John. Listen to me. We mean you no harm. We just want you back. Give this a chance.”

Blood seeps from where the IV has been pulled out and he cradles his broken arm against his bellowing chest. He shakes his head and backs up several steps. “I trusted you,” he says again, softly.

Ronon hates hearing the bitterness in his friend’s accusations. But they have come too far to stop now. He can only hope that Sheppard - their Sheppard- will understand, when they find him. “Let’s get on with this,” he says shortly. “What do you need to do?”

Todd’s smile widens. “Why I am already doing it. It is quite a mess in there, isn’t it?”

“Do you not have to have contact with Colonel Sheppard?” Teyla asks, eyebrows raised.

“I could do this from the next room,” Todd chuckles. “But I wanted to see Sheppard for myself. And the reaction was more than I’d hoped for.”

Lorne and a Marine step up from behind the Wraith at Ronon’s chin jerk. They click the safeties off their guns and wait for Ronon’s instructions.

“If you’re just playing games-“

Todd cuts him off with a raised hand. “Ronon Dex, your lack of patience is tiresome.” Then he closes his eyes and goes stone-still.

John is still trembling, backed up against the railing of the balcony. His eyes dart about for an escape route and linger on the weapons in Lorne and the Marine’s hands. Then he makes a small sigh before falling back against the railing.

Ronon barely makes it in time to catch him as he crumples and slides down the railing. Ronon holds the injured arm to one side as he eases John into a seated position against his chest.

The balcony goes quiet as all eyes watch Todd’s unmoving form.

Ronon steals a glance at his watch and notes that seventeen minutes have passed without a word spoken. John has done little more than let out a few soft moans. And Todd remains standing, the occasional twitch of his eyes behind their lids and a clawing of his fingers his only motion.

Teyla’s gasp is the only warning when Todd’s eyes spring open.

“It is done. What are the coordinates?”

Ronon looks at John; his friend appears to be sleeping but he doesn’t wake at Ronon’s shake of his shoulder.

“Why is he out of it?”

“I have little understanding of human physiology. I would surmise that he is sleeping,” Todd answers, amusement in his voice. “The coordinates?’’

“Not until we know if it worked.”

“It did.”

“And you would ask us to simply trust in this?” Teyla asks.

“You humans and your trust,” Todd hisses. “Very well. The effort has also left me tired. Perhaps you would offer your guest a bite to eat?”

***

Ronon strides out onto the balcony. John stands at the railing, staring out as he has since his return. He turns, sees Ronon and smiles.

Ronon is already grinning, has been since John awakened to a room filled with friends and greeted them all by name.

It had started out rough. John had a seizure soon after they got him back to the infirmary. Jennifer and Carson had fussed over John and the readings from the various machines they pulled in but Carson had returned to their small group to announce that John was fine - an announcement Rodney had snorted loudly at- and said it appeared the seizure was just part of John’s brain re-setting itself. That had drawn another eye roll from Rodney- and as Carson added that the seizure might possibly cause retrograde amnesia Rodney threw his hands up and yelled, “Isn’t that exactly the opposite of what we were trying to do?”

Ronon was poised to take off for where their ‘guest’ was being held- he had wanted a holding cell with a force field barrier but other voices had overridden his and it was decided it would be an unused conference room, under guard and stripped of all computer access. Teyla had stopped him with a hand on his arm and pleading eyes.

A long hour later, Teyla and the doctors’ faith paid off. John woke up, muttered something enigmatic about Kansas and having the strangest dream. But he was back.

“Hey, buddy,” John says as Ronon steps up to the railing beside him.

“Look any different?”

John shakes his head slowly. “Nope. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“It’s good to have you back,” Ronon says with a clap on John’s shoulder.

“It’s good to be back,” John replies, but there’s sadness in his voice. “Maybe a little weird.”

“Not to be running?”

John chuffs out a laugh. “Yeah. That too.”

“It wasn’t all bad,” Ronon says. “Running, I mean.”

The statement earns him a sideways stare before John’s eyes return to the sea below. “No, not all bad. Met some really good people.”

“You saved some really good people, Sheppard.”

“Not all of them. And it was my fault they had to be saved.”

“Look, I know your memory is still pretty messed up, but I recall a similar conversation after you brought me back to Atlantis. You really want to hear your own words thrown back at you?”

“They called me Death Bringer, Ronon. How am I supposed to go back out there?”

“Leyjac,” Ronon says with a nod. “We were there. Seems we were always one step behind you.”

He pulls back and sighs. “They called you that because you brought death to Wraith, Sheppard. I’m not saying it’ll be easy. You’ve seen what happens when we go to planets where I brought the Wraith. And I’m not saying you won’t get the same reaction sometimes. But on Leyjac, at least, you’ll have friends.”

“Friends,” John echoes softly. He casts a gaze at the darkening evening sky where stars are beginning to peek out against the blanket of gray.

Then he turns away and quirks a smile - a full-on John Sheppard smile. “I’m sick of this view. Let’s go back inside.”

***

Ronon stands in front of the shimmering gate. Todd speaks not a word as he walks to join the Wraith waiting for him.

It is not easy for him, owing a debt to a Wraith. But Ronon needs to know.

“Why’d you do it?” he asks as he hands over the slip of paper.

Todd doesn’t even look at it, just crumples carelessly it in his fist. “For the coordinates. That is our deal, is it not? What do you care of what becomes of the Wraith on that planet?”

“I don’t care. But you bringing Sheppard back… I realized afterwards. While you were in Sheppard’s head, you could’ve gotten the coordinates from him. And left him, the way he was. But you didn’t.”

“Let’s just say I find the universe a more interesting place with John Sheppard in it. Wraith have long lives, Ronon Dex. We bore easily.”

Todd turns away and begins to leave, but pauses. Ronon hears that odd wheeze that means that the Wraith is laughing.

“What?”

Todd turns to speak over his shoulder. “In case you had any thoughts that my time among the humans has made me… soft. You should know, Sheppard would likely have made his way back to you eventually on his own. It would have taken time… and a great deal of pain, I would imagine. But as I have noted, you lack patience.”

Ronon shrugs- it’s something he’s suspected from things John had said and remembered. “Yeah, well we don’t have ‘long lives’.”

Todd replies with a nod. “I suspect you and Sheppard will live long enough.” He turns and walks away, but not too far for Ronon to hear him add, “If we don’t meet again.”

***

fini-