Disclaimer: Okay, not mine, never were. Not making any money off this, its just for lots of free entertainment, so please don't sue.

Common Ground Tag: The Turmoil Within

I sat in the lounge chair someone had finagled for the infirmary balcony, watching the sun setting. Carson was off somewhere, checking on the first set of tests he'd run, but I doubted I'd be allowed out of the infirmary tonight even if they came back good. For once, I didn't really mind. I was home.

I blinked hard, realizing with shock and just the slightest hint of apprehension that Atlantis really was home for me, not just another base. It was the first time I'd felt such a sense of belonging since my mother died when I was young. I was actually in a place where they truly accepted me, as a whole, not just the part of me they wanted, just as my mother once had. Too bad my father had never learned that skill. Even had I come back as they'd all feared, old, dying, usefulness gone... I would have had a place here for as long as I wanted it.

Elizabeth had assured me of that, guilt heavy on her face, in her posture. I could see it, an impossible weight in all their eyes, the knowledge that they hadn't been able to get to me sooner, to stop what was happening. My own feelings were in turmoil over that. Part of me was angry, furious, completely sure that I would have found a way to get me out sooner, would never have let the Wraith... I was glad they were feeling that failure, and guilty that I would have such petty emotions towards my family. They had seen it, too, to my shame. That anger was the source of my somewhat bitter comment about showing up finally as I pushed past Carson back on the planet. It wasn't nice, nor really fair to them, but I'd been forced to form an alliance with a creature who saw me as a snack.

That was another issue I was wrestling with. Had I actually found myself liking and trusting him, just a tiny bit? Was it really just the need for his help with the guards at the gate that kept me from leaving him in the forest? What if the Wraith really weren't that different from humans? We knew so little about them...

"Colonel?"

I glanced over my shoulder to see Dr. Beckett standing in the open doorway, two steaming mugs in his hands.

"The cooks made that Athosian soup ya like so much. I brought ya some... and I was wonderin' if I might join ya."

Another sigh. "Sure, why not. I'll warn you I may not be the best company right now."

I really didn't want to be around anyone, but I also didn't want to be alone, like I had- I cut that thought short, aware there were monsters lurking in those memories. Monsters I wasn't up to facing just yet, even in questions from a well-meaning friend. Those questions would come, though, and soon, there was just no avoiding it. I was terrified of how I would react. At least, if it had to be anyone, it was Carson. The man had been a brick wall all afternoon, ruthlessly chasing off anyone who didn't have a valid medical reason to be around me. Even Elizabeth and Kate Heightmeyer, after he overheard the Atlantis leader's ill-considered reassurances about my still having a place, even if only to die in.

Taking the offered mug, I inhaled the sweet aroma of the thick vegetable and spice concoction. I had loved the stuff since Teyla brought some back with her that Charin made that first year. I had personally gone to the mainland to charm the recipe out of her, turning it over to the cooks along with all her advice on how to 'prepare it properly, young man'! They readily accepted her instructions, thank goodness, simply happy to find something made with all local foods that the majority of Atlantis liked.

"I thought we were out of the spices to make this, and most of the Athosian crop wasn't ready yet. They needed what they had left for their own use."

My puzzlement received a sad smile from my doctor. "Aye, they did, but I wanted to be certain we had somethin' easy for you to eat, so I sent Rodney and Teyla to the mainland for some of your other favorites. As soon as the Athosians heard you'd been injured, they pressed any extra they had on Teyla. She brought enough back to have ye eatin' it for most of the next week. They brought back a lot of other tasties, too, but those'll have ta wait until tomorrow. I don't want ta try ya on solid food just yet, since yer stomach's apt ta be a wee bit touchy after everything you've been through."

He was certainly right about that. Until I smelled the soup, my appetite had been conspicuous in its absence, especially when I hadn't eaten anything since just before leaving on the ill-fated mission that started this mess. I had been badly dehydrated, too, but the IV in the back of my left hand was taking care of that little problem. Kolya hadn't exactly been concerned about the niceties in Hotel Genii, like providing food and water. At least to me. He'd provided the Wraith with plenty of food. You weren't going there, John, I sternly reminded myself. Enjoy the good stuff, like friends who will sacrifice part of their own carefully rationed supply for you.

Leaning back, savoring the warm stuff, I blinked against the uncharacteristic sting of tears in my eyes. I had accidentally cost the Athosian people their homes, woken their worst enemy, led them to a place where some questioned how trustworthy they were, yet they still welcomed and cared about me. How many times had I wished for such simple feelings from my own blood, only to be told I wasn't good enough?

"How're ya feelin', son?"

Ah, the million dollar question. Rolling my head toward him, I gave Carson a ghost of my normal crooked Sheppard grin.

"Would it make any sense if I told you I really didn't know?"

"Aye, that it would. Physically, though?"

At least I had an answer for that one.

"I'm okay, just tired and sore. The adrenaline has worn off and Ronon..."

I couldn't say it, couldn't think of anything but the pain, the certainty that I was going to die, wanted to die, as the Wraith bent over me that final time. My breath caught in my throat and I pulled an arm over my face to hide the few tears that escaped my control. Carson just sat, silently waiting for me to regain composure. He didn't try platitudes that we both knew were a lie, didn't tell me everything would be fine. He just stayed with me. Finally able to resume, I flashed him a grateful half-smile, to which he solemnly nodded. Carson had been through his own hells in the last three years, he understood.

"I still have some nice bruises from my hosts' ideas of hospitality that weren't fully healed when my life was restored, as you saw. Those ought to be all kinds of fun in the morning." My voice dropped to a whisper, losing its sardonic tone. "And the mark."

His eyes strayed toward my chest, where the top of a white bandage was just visible at the neck of my scrubs. I had to force myself not to pull my arms over it or demand a mirror to reassure myself that I was really okay. The thing was partially healed, at least, not the raw, open wound I had carried in the cell. Still, it ached and burned, a dull throb with every beat of my newly re-strengthened heart.

"Aye, that bloody mark." Silence came back for a few minutes, but it was peaceful, companionable, not the heavy dread of the cells. "I don't know what side effects this could have, if any, but I want ya resting for the next few days. No stress ye can avoid, nothin' that could push ya emotionally or physically. I'd prefer to monitor you here, but if its too much, we'll set somethin' up in your room."

I smiled slightly, noting the tension in the man's posture. He was worried that I would fight him on this one, or he wouldn't have held out the possibility of my quarters, which I knew would be a royal pain for the medical staff. I was usually more comfortable there, with more things at hand to divert myself with. It would also leave me more accessible to visitors, and their questions, not an idea I relished. Normally, I was very restless as an invalid, pushing to be about my regular activities, which made me a nuisance as a patient. That energy, though, the need to be in motion, doing something, was as AWOL as my hunger was until a few minutes ago.

It was a feeling I recognized. I had been like this after Afghanistan, too. Everyone had prodded, analyzed, threatened me with a court martial or a psych ward, pushed and pushed... until I ran away from everything, friends, responsibility, life... It took two years of solitude in one of the loneliest places on Earth, McMurdo Air Station, before I had regained my footing. Even then, it wasn't until I was literally shot at by a soon-to-be friend that I was knocked from my isolated little cocoon. Now, here I was again, and if they pushed me this time, I had nowhere left to run. I could feel myself teetering on the brink, not sure where to turn for understanding... yet, Carson was holding out what it sounded like I needed... Could he possibly understand?

"I guess the infirmary is fine. I... I don't really want to be alone, but..."

How do I explain this need to have human contact and hide from it at the same time? Kate was going to have a field day with me.

A friendly hand on my arm. "Its okay, son, I do understand. I've had one of the back areas set up so you'll have privacy, but it shouldna trigger flashbacks of that damned place."

"What about Kate and Elizabeth? The debrief is mandatory..."

A wave of the hand cut me off. "Aye, the debrief with the psychologist is mandatory, but it can also wait several days until you're settled a bit more. That's by recommendation of Kate an' I both."

I must have looked as flabbergasted as I felt because I finally got a smile out of the Scot.

"Ye underestimate the lass, colonel. She's one o' the best in her field or she wouldna be here. She warned me that you internalize things, that after somethin' like this, you'd need some time to yourself. Right now, she's layin' down the law to everyone. If ya don't want visitors, ye don't have 'em, an' if ya do, they're not bringin' up what happened or pressin' ya. I want ya to be as comfortable for the bloody debriefin' as ye can be, and that's not goin' to happen if you've been pressed into fight or flight."

Breath whooshed out. I couldn't believe it. They understood! They were letting me have control, tell them what I needed to recover from this hellish nightmare. This time I wouldn't be shipped off from person to person like a hot potato, wouldn't have my life orchestrated for me to the tune others thought right, still a prisoner after the fact. Tension I hadn't realized was even there drained from me, leaving me suddenly exhausted. I didn't have to face all the questions, the nightmares, the uncertainty alone this time. All I had to do was one of the hardest things of all for me- place my trust in those around me and ask for the help I needed. One small step at a time.

"Carson..."

"Yes, John?"

"I could really use some help getting to bed. I think I might be able to sleep now."