Day Fifty-Eight

John wakes up.

For an instant that doesn't seem too unusual, but then the memory of the look on Rodney's face just before John died in his arms slams into him. He lies there for a moment, breathing raggedly, trying to remember after, but it's no good; he was dead. Could a rememdium have healed him quickly enough to counteract the fatal injury? No, Shaaziya had said Ayse didn't have a healer.

If this is the afterlife, it isn't one he'd have pictured, so maybe he didn't actually die. The bed is soft, and the linen sheets and coverings are sun-bleached and finely woven, but it's just a regular bed.

John stretches his arms out and finds that he's dressed in a long white shift, with chevrons that he was used to seeing in Atlantis, embroidered in white.

He sits up, looking around with a curious dread pressing down on him, and he pushes it back. The small room has a large window at one end, spilling brilliant sunlight through the filigreed brass shutters that create a latticework of sun, and shade and color that spills across the worn carpet on the floor. The whitewashed walls are plain and bare, and his uniform is neatly folded on a chair by the door, with his boots below.

He stands experimentally and when that's successful, strips off the robe and looks at his side. There's not a mark on him, the knife wound is completely gone, no scar, or even a dimple where it should have been. He feels the back of his neck and the faint remnant of the shrapnel cut is gone. He twists around to check his ass, but he's never really been that flexible, so he resorts to running his fingers over the place where the gash had been. He leans down, and the backs of his legs are clear. Even the various scars from the past are gone; faint thin scars that crisscrossed his left arm from a run-in with his grandmother's rose bushes are gone. A puckered scar from a bullet on his thigh is completely erased and the skin is smooth. The traced line of his appendectomy surgery is missing, too.

John raises a hand to his nose, and the faint bump isn't there; his nose hadn't been perfectly straight since that game against Fremont in '78. "What the hell?" He realizes that he's about to seriously lose control and he can't do that—he doesn't even know where he is. John stands naked in the center of the room, breathing heavily through his nose, until he can push the terror back, down, scrunch it up and toss it away.

Three steps take him to the chair and he begins to dress. Everything is clean, not a trace of blood on them, and the t-shirt has been repaired; fine, even stitches close the tear made by the knife. He can feel the small lump of the mending when puts his arm down. His sidearm is missing, but the thigh holster is there, and he straps it on for comfort. He checks his watch. It stopped at 09:00, but he buckles it on just the same. The door isn't locked, so he opens it.

There's a guard outside. John nonchalantly slides out into the corridor. The guard stands and points down the hall, and John shrugs and heads in the direction indicated.

At the far end of the hallway is an open door and the guard steers John into what's clearly a sitting room or lounge. Rodney and Shaaziya are sitting together, heads bent over a heavy book. John takes two steps inside the door and hangs there uncertainly. "Hey guys, what's going on?" He hates that there's a trace of a quaver in his voice and he swallows thickly.

He takes in the tableau in single snapshots, it's too much to assimilate all at once: Shaaziya's eyes snap towards him, her mouth open, then Rodney standing with his fists clenched, striding towards him, Shaaziya's sharp, bright cry of fear slicing through him like another knife.

Rodney stops in the middle of the room, torn between John and Shaaziya's keening cries, looking back and forth between them. She hasn't moved; her eyes are wide and she's panting with fright. "Shaaziya?" As John says her name, she falls to the ground, eyes covered and forehead to her knees, and she begins to pray under her breath in a high, anxious tone.

John can't hear what she's saying, only that her voice is high and wobbly, like she's crying. He has no idea what is going on, but her reaction to him even being in the room is causing his own incipient panic to ratchet farther up.

John turns to Rodney, who's still fettered by indecision in the middle of the room. "Rodney, what the hell happened?" It doesn't matter how ruthlessly John tries to smother it, his voice is shaky and weak.

That breaks Rodney loose, and he gets in John's face, so close that he can smell Rodney's sour breath and see the fear jagged and ugly in his eyes. "What happened? You died in my arms, and then one of Zuhair's men dragged your body away, and it's been three fucking days, and we've been locked up in here, and no one would tell us anything except that they're going to execute Elizabeth." Rodney gives him a sharp jab in the chest. "You tell me what happened!"

John can't help it, he takes a step backwards, away from Rodney's fury, and Rodney follows him. "I don't know, Rodney! I woke up a few minutes ago in a room down the hall, good as new, and I mean really new."

This distracts Rodney, and he pins John with that peculiar, intense gaze that's usually reserved for new and exciting technology. "What, what do you mean?"

"No scars. Not even the ones I had before. Look at this." John lifts his t-shirt, and points to his side.

"There's nothing there." The surprise softens Rodney's voice into curiosity.

John's angered by this, and his voice hardens. "I know that, Rodney! What is going on?"

Rodney's staring at John's unblemished skin, shaking his head and backing away. "Oh. Of course. I should have known it would be you."

He gives Rodney a questioning look, but he turns away from John with his mouth set in a hard frown. He goes to Shaaziya, kneels down beside her and puts his hand on her back, rubbing back and forth to try and calm her down. "Hey, hey, what's this all about? Come on now; its just Sheppard."

John watches them for a moment, wanting to grab Rodney up of the floor and make him explain. He's got to get out of here and figure out what hell has happened in the last few days. The guard is still at the door, watching the scene with a cool, dispassionate calm. Either he has no idea that John was struck down dead, (unlikely, considering the bedlam that had erupted in the temple courtyard.) or he knows something that they don't. John's probably not going to wring it out of him with his pidgin Qaroptimat, and his translator is in the middle of a nervous break down.

There is one word that everyone who's involved will recognize though. John gets in his face and growls, "Elizabeth."

The calm, collected face of the guard doesn't even twitch as he nods.

"Rodney. Rodney! He's going to take us to see Elizabeth."

Rodney looks up at him. "She thinks you're their Hidden One. The reincarnation of Quaralyn." Unexpectedly, the look on Rodney's face isn't one of disbelief.

"That's ridiculous," John snaps. Was it possible?

Rodney ignores John's outburst, and he leans back over Shaaziya. "Come on, sweetheart, get up."

She allows him to pull her to a sitting position, and he wipes her cheeks with a brush of his fingertips. "That's better. Come on, stand up." Rodney gets to his feet and gives her a hand up, and then he hugs her, speaking softly into her hair as he presses a kiss to the side of her face.

Rodney releases her but keeps her hand in his and sighs as he turns to John. "Okay, lets go."

They follow the guard, down the corridor and several flights of stone stairs. It's not obvious where the light is coming from, but it's not dark. At the bottom of the stairs, the guard unlocks a door. John uses the distraction to ask Rodney, "What about Rogers and Alvarez?"

"I don't know. They could be anywhere. No one will tell us anything."

The guard locks the door behind them and leads them down yet another oddly lit corridor. John's starting to have his doubts about Shaaziya's role in all of this. Sure, she was obviously shocked by John's reappearance, and according to Rodney's assertion, her relationship with Zuhair is questionable at best; but it doesn't necessarily negate the possibility of colluding in some plot of Zuhair's. She may have had orders to bring them to Ayse from the very beginning.

It doesn't make sense, though. Shaaziya warned them of the first assassination attempt, sounded naively honest when she thought that talking to the Abnepa would solve their problem, and the look on her face as the attack began was one of fear and confusion. He doesn't have any proof one way or the other, but he's going to keep an open mind.

Their guard greets Elizabeth's guard with a shout. They argue back and forth for a minute, until Elizabeth's guard gives them a look that plainly says 'it's your life,' like Elizabeth was some hardened criminal. He opens the door, and they sweep past him before he can change his mind.

"John! You're all right!" she starts toward him to give him a hug, but stops short of actually touching him. John flinches slightly at the thump of the door closing behind them.

John gives her a small smile. "Yeah, I feel fine. Do you know what's going on?"

"No, actually I don't. I was hoping you could tell me."

"Apparently you're going on trial tomorrow, and they plan to execute you afterwards." Rodney snorts,"Trial."

"Oh, is that all?" Elizabeth shoots back with an acid tone.

"I'm sure they'll serve lunch afterwards, but I have no idea if you'll enjoy it or not, seeing as how you're going to be dead!"

"I hope it doesn't come to that. Shaaziya, can you..." Elizabeth stops as she finally looks at her. "Shaaziya, what's the matter? We'll be fine, we've had worse scrapes than this."

Shaaziya doesn't answer Elizabeth. Her face is turned down, but even so John can see that she's white as a sheet and trembling.

Rodney clears his throat. "It's Sheppard. Well, I don't know that you saw, you were already being carted away, but he. He, well uhm, sort of died."

"What do you mean, 'sort of died?'" Elizabeth frowns as she takes in the information.

"I mean, skewered through by a knife, coughing up a lung, dead! Expired!" Rodney is yelling now and his hands are flailing in the air.

Elizabeth turns to John; her eyes are wide with surprise. "Really?"

The walk to the jail cell's given John a chance to regain some perspective. They're in a bind and he can't afford to be distracted by his own panic and distress, because Elizabeth is in mortal peril. Again. He casually answers, "Apparently."

"I, well. Ah, that's extraordinary!" Elizabeth eyebrows climb high and she looks at John with the same assessing look that Rodney had given him earlier.

Rodney agrees, "Tell me about it. I spent the last two days trying to scrub his blood off of me, trying to forget the look on his face."

She says doubtfully, "Is it possible that they have a rememdium after all?" Elizabeth glances at Sheppard with a calculating look and then at Rodney. They share a significant glance, but neither one wants to be the one to say it.

"Possible, but I doubt it. I don't think there was anything anyone could've done."

"Well, right now, I don't think we should worry about it. I'm fine," John lowers his voice in case the guards are listening in, "but we do have to figure out how to get you out of here. Did you see what happened to Rogers or Alvarez?"

"I didn't even know that you'd been injured. They picked me up and carried me down here, and I've not had a single visitor since. Rodney, where have you been?"

"We've been under house arrest, on the third floor. No one told us anything, either."

John glances at Shaaziya. "There's only one person that can tell us anything, and that's Zuhair."

Elizabeth swallows hard. "I doubt he'll come to see me, and even if he did, I'm probably not the best emissary in this case. You'll have to talk to him."

"Okay, I'm going to go find Zuhair and see if we can't come to some agreement that doesn't involve you getting executed."

"Alright. Let me know what you can. Thank you, John."

"Sure. Well be back."

John bangs on the door with the side of his fist. "Hey, we want out!" He can hear the locks turning as he watches Rodney give Elizabeth a graceless pat on the shoulder.

The door opens and they leave Elizabeth alone in her cell, with a death threat hanging over her head.

~*~

The guard allows them to go to Zuhair's office, but his door is locked, and no one is answering it. John can hear people talking inside, but shouting and banging on the door proves futile. "Shaaziya, what's going on?"

She still refuses to look at John, but at least she answers him. "They are preparing for tomorrow, purifying and praying. They will do this, until it is time."

"So, no chance of getting in there?"

"I do not believe so."

"Ask the guard if he knows where my men are."

She asks the guard in sharp querulous words, and he replies with a deference that surprises John.

"They were released immediately after Elizabeth was captured."

John and Rodney exchange relieved glances. Well, that was something.

"They were given a message, that to interfere would be to cause immediate death to all that are still alive."

Rodney asks, "Shaaz, was it written? Verbal? Why didn't he tell us this the last two hundred times we asked? "

She queries the guard at length. "Yes, it was written. He only answers, because the Quaralyn wished to know."

Rodney glares at him, but John ignores him, and stares at the guard directly. "Ask him to get my radio, I want to have it."

The guard nods at her request, and scurries off to get the radio. "Now, that's more like it." John turns and smiles at Rodney.

Rodney rolls his eyes, "You're going to be insufferable."

"Hey, like you wouldn't do the same."

The guard hands him his radio, and John thanks him as he puts the ear piece on. "Let's not do this in the hallway."

They return to the room where John had found Rodney and Shaaziya. She gives the guard an order, and he disappears. "Daedalus, this is Sheppard, come in."

"This is Caldwell, what the hell is going on over there? Rogers said he thought you were dead, and I've got both platoons armed and camped outside the city."

"That's good to know. You might have them hold off until we can be in a position to protect Elizabeth—the rumor is that were supposed to all be killed if you attack."

"Hermiod translated the message for me. What are your intentions?"

"Can you get a lock on Elizabeth?"

"No, there's some interference, we're not reading any of you."

"The buildings must have some natural shielding, I doubt that they're advanced enough to do this on purpose." Rodney sighs. "I thought they were just being cheap and not running the sub-lights."

John gives him the 'oh, is that it' look. "Shaaziya, where do you think they'll have the trial?"

"The Judgment hall, across the courtyard."

"Are there any tunnels? Underground passages?"

She smiles slightly, but her eyes are still averted. "No, the guilty must walk among the accusers."

"Colonel, you need to be prepared to beam Elizabeth away the minute you get a lock on her sub-cu. I have it on good authority that she'll be outside the building that's probably blocking the signal. Keep monitoring, I don't know if they'll try to pull a fast one and take her out ahead of schedule."

"What about the rest of you?"

"Yeah, take Rodney too, just in case. There'll be too many to pick Shaaziya out of the crowd, and I have a feeling that I'm not in any danger. I'm going to need her, in any case."

"Very well Colonel. You only have to make it outside the city gates, our forces are already in position."

Rodney looks mutinous and determined. "I should stay with you, you'll need back up."

"Thanks, but I'd much rather have you out of danger as soon as possible. Like I said, I doubt that she and I will be in any danger."

John asks through Shaaziya for the guard to return the rest of their gear, and he complies with the same alacrity he's shown in the last few minutes. John considers trying to blaze their way out, but there are too many locked doors and guards between Elizabeth and freedom, and there are other considerations to take into account.

It's already dark when the guard returns, bearing a tray of food and drink. John's not very hungry, he's too anxious to eat. Rodney's reaction to stress is to eat, and he quickly plows through the meal. Shaaziya nibbles, but clearly she's eating only out of duty.

John's been thinking. He leaves Rodney to the tray and gets the guard to take him back to Elizabeth. He obliquely advises Elizabeth of the plan, and verifies that her transmitter hasn't been removed. He stays for a while to keep her company, but neither one has very much to say.

When he returns to the lounge, the lights are dimmed, Rodney's arm is around Shaaziya's shoulder as she leans against his chest, though neither one is sleeping, just sitting together in the half-light.

John sits in a chair, and puts his feet up on the low table, arms crossed over his chest.

They quietly wait until dawn, reflecting on mayhem, and murder and mysteries.

 

Day Fifty-Nine

The guard brings them breakfast, but even Rodney's too keyed up to eat. John checks the magazine in his P90 and snaps it to his vest, checks his sidearm to make sure it has a full clip. Rodney follows suit, checking the clip and safety with smooth, confidant motions and sliding it home into his thigh holster. Rodney locks his gaze on John's, and they're thinking the same thing: hoping this won't come to a firefight, but preparing for one all the same.

They walk to the entrance, but before leaving the building, John contacts the Caldwell. "This is Sheppard, come in Daedalus."

"Colonel, I need a sit-rep."

"We're about to walk out of the building. Elizabeth's not here yet, and I don't want to tip my hand. Can you get a lock on Rodney?" John waves Rodney out to the top of the stairs and follows him out.

There's a slight pause, "We have him."

"Good, make sure that you beam her and Rodney away at the same time."

"Colonel, are you outside the building?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"Were not picking up your signal at all."

Huh. He hadn't even bothered to check that, because the plan hadn't called for it. John is briefly grateful that the building is shielded, that they hadn't beamed everyone else away, leaving him behind because they thought he was dead. "Roger that, Colonel, I'll explain later. I'll contact you when Elizabeth is on her way outside."

"Sergeant Olander is on channel three, standing by for your orders."

John checks with the Sergeant, and advises him to be prepared to rush the temple if the beam out plan fails.

From their vantage point at the top of the stairs, they watch the congregation swell. The Arch is busy, and John can hear it sounding off as people trail through single file. John's curious about the prevalence of the ATA in the crowd; Anbur had made it clear that it was fairly uncommon, as had Shaaziya. He's starting to get a clearer picture of the split between the two, and he wonders how many other sub sects there are across Dominat.

It's obvious that a lot of these people were in attendance at the fiasco a few days ago. John's getting some uneasy looks and people are talking to each other and pointing at him. John smiles and nods, but that only elevates the concern they're showing.

When the crowd turns into a sea of people filling up the courtyard and sloshing out of the Arch, Zuhair and his Abnepa make their entrance. He stares at John's little group standing off to the side, but John's not going to be scared away from his position.

Zuhair begins to address the crowd, and Shaaziya translates for them in a low voice. John listens to her as he watches the crowd, Zuhair and his Abnepa.

Zuhair's speech is filled with rhetoric and philosophical lambasting of the Peragroilla for allowing the uninitiated and apostate nusqua to view freely that which should be prohibited to them. He portrays Elizabeth as an archfiend bent on destroying their way of life, and the entire city that fell from the sky as the primum mobile, the reason that the ancient enemy came to punish them, when they had never come before.

It goes on for some time, and a lot of it's not wrong, just twisted, and some of the historical references to the holy wars of the past go over John's head. Zuhair's invective is getting more creative, and it seems to be whipping the crowd into a writhing frenzy.

If Elizabeth has to walk through that crush, she won't even make it half way across the courtyard; they'll probably rip her limb from limb or stone her to death, before she makes to the Judgment Hall. John's praying that the Daedalus can get a lock on her as promised. If they can't, it's going get ugly fast, with terrible consequences for their future if they have to blaze their way out in a firefight.

When Zuhair has the crowd at its zenith of madness, he makes a sign, and Elizabeth is dragged out. She's heavily chained hand and foot; it's difficult for her to walk, and the men at her sides are half carrying her, but her head is held up high, with a defiant expression on her face.

John turns slightly away from the crowd and signals the Daedalus, "Now would be great."

He takes a deep breath that he didn't realize that he was holding when Elizabeth and Rodney disappear in what must appear to the Ayse as a lightning strike, and the crowd freezes in shock and awe.

John isn't given a chance to exercise his less-than-adequate oratory skills, because Shaaziya immediately steps in front of Zuhair and speaks to the silent, frozen crowd. He's pretty sure that he knows what she's saying, because some of the crowd, the ones that had recognized John earlier, fall to their knees in obeisance. She continues until the mass of people parts, leaving an open path to the courtyard. She turns and smiles, eyes cast down. "Come, we leave now."

They walk down the stairs, and John's willing Zuhair to know when he's lost the battle and not launch an attack from behind. As Shaaziya passes under the Arch of Qaralyn, it gives the same faint, gentle reaction.

When John passes through, it goes crazy. The light and sound are a hundred times stronger than before; almost deafening every one and blinding anyone whose eyes aren't turned aside. Ears ringing, John turns to look behind him. Anyone who wasn't already pressing their forehead to the ground falls down and performs the ritual genuflection.

John looks across the courtyard to the temple stairs and Zuhair's is the only one left standing, a calculating look on his face. Their eyes meet, but he's nodding slightly, accepting his defeat.

It's not far to the city gates. The people in the town who didn't see what happened are wearing the vaguely hostile expression that John expects, and no one attempts to stop them from leaving. He taps his radio, "Daedalus, this is Sheppard. We're out of the compound and almost to the gates."

"Good to hear, Sheppard." Rodney's voice is a relief. "Engineering is getting Elizabeth out of the manacles."

"That's great, Rodney."

"Since we're running the sub-lights, we're going to beam you guys back. No point in walking if you don't have to."

"Thanks, I wasn't looking forward to hiking back in the daylight."

"Let me know when you're ready, and I'll bring you home."

~*~

The corridor outside the ring room is busy with returning Marines and crew standing around and gawking. Rumor flies at hyper-speed here; so many have little to do with their time that the boredom drives them to glom onto the least bit of excitement. John's about to turn towards the conference room when a hand falls on his shoulder; he turns and comes face to face with Carson, a concerned expression on his face. "No you don't, Colonel. I heard something very disturbing, and the only place you're going is the infirmary."

"I'm fine, Doc. Really. I need to..."

"Elizabeth's already there, and Steven's with her, aye and Rodney and Shaaziya, too."

John gives in, handing his P90 and tac vest to the nearest marine before following Carson. He's beginning to really hate the infirmary, it seems like all he ever does is cool his heels there when he's fine.

Carson hands him a set of green scrubs to change into. "I plan to run every single test and scan I have at my disposal, so you'd best get comfortable, Colonel."

He strips in the lavatory, and realizing that it's been days, takes a quick shower before putting on the scrubs. He takes a more thorough inventory of the changes as he cleans. On the wrist that normally sports a wristband, the hair isn't rubbed away from the constant wear. His skin seems to glide over muscle, as if the fat underneath has been melted away, and the tiny love handles he'd secretly despaired over are gone. Well, that's a plus. He takes a close look in the mirror, the scar on his neck from the Iratus bug is gone, and yes, his nose is straight again and the tiny crows feet around his eyes and his gray hairs are missing, too. Not that he really misses them.

Clean and attired, John takes the bed next to Elizabeth. She's hooked up to an IV and eating lunch, and Caldwell is sprawled comfortably in the chair next to her.

John takes a breath, but Caldwell interrupts him. "Save it Sheppard. We'll talk about all of this later." He sounds tired, and John thinks that he's probably worn a deep path on the deck of the bridge during the last four days.

"Okay." John watches the scene that's playing out a few beds away. Carson's drawing blood from Shaaziya, and Rodney is hovering. He'd forgotten about that little problem until the Arch reminded him when Shaaziya left the temple. She's sitting with her back to him, but he can see the interplay of expressions on Rodney's face. He looks terribly pleased with himself; Carson's smiling as he gently teases Rodney.

He'd thought that Rodney would be completely ape-shit insane about the possibility of impending fatherhood, but he guesses that they've had a few days to talk about it while he'd been, well what ever he'd been. John knows, though he's shying away from the idea.

John has to admit to himself that the scene a few beds away is kind of sweet. Rodney's remarkably transparent; there are very few things that don't show on the surface and an air of loneliness had always drifted about him as he threw himself into his work. Now he looks happy, glowing with a level of serene bliss—not ZPM happy with all the manic excitement that entails.

He's glad for Rodney in a lot of ways, but if they ever get rescued--well, there's heartbreak on the horizon.

Carson gives Shaaziya a pat on the shoulder, before he hands the samples to a nurse and threads his way through the beds towards John.

"So, John, I hear you've had a pretty exciting weekend."

"That's one way of putting it."

"Before I go mad with the testing, tell me what your physical symptoms are?"

"Besides the fact that I'm not dead?"

"Aye, I can see that, lad."

"I don't have any scars, not old ones or new ones. There's no trace of the knife wound." John lifts his left arm and points to his ribs, "And I can't feel where my nose was broken. My gray hair is gone."

Carson takes John's face in one hand and turns it back and forth while palpitating the nose, feeling for the lump. "I don't see any sign of it. But other than that you feel fine?" He says this last with a hint of sarcasm.

John chuckles. "Yeah, I feel fine."

"Hmm, interesting. Any memory gaps, other than the last couple of days?"

"Well, there's that weekend in Bangkok, but I couldn't remember that before."

Carson smiles, "I have one or two of those, myself. You look a little thinner in the face." He lifts John's arm up and gently pinches the underside, and then lifts the scrub top to do the same where the love handles used to be. "Definite fat loss, I'll wager your body mass index is down considerably, but that could just be from running back and forth across the desert. You've been under a great deal of stress, both could account for the loss."

Carson's hands move upwards to gently pull his eyelids apart, leaning in to get a closer look. "The sclera is perfectly normal, which is to say unusual. There's a certain amount of discoloration that occurs as we age. Open wide."

The tongue depressor comes out and Carson peers down John's throat. "That's very interesting." He turns away to pull the privacy curtains, "Hop on the scale, I'll be going over ye with a fine-toothed comb." He looks over to Rodney, who's watching with unabashed curiosity. "Go on, Rodney. He doesn't need you peering over my shoulder."

Rodney rolls his eyes and manages a vaguely contrite look at the same time. John thinks that's amazing.

Elizabeth's IV is empty, and Carson takes a moment to let her go with the usual warnings, leaving the infirmary empty except for the two of them.

Then John spends the next few hours getting prodded, poked, weighed, scanned, x-rayed and punctured. He gives up a urine sample and suffers trough the indignity of a prostate exam. He's never been so thoroughly touched in his entire life.

Carson snaps off the latex gloves and tosses them into the trash. "I wasn't able to get a feces sample, when was the last time you had a decent meal?"

John colors in a faint rush of embarrassment. "Before I left for Ayse. I was too keyed up to eat yesterday, and before that, well. You know."

Carson gives him a look of pure exasperation. "And I wonder why you're thinner. Get dressed and have a seat—you're going to eat right here in front of my eyes, so I can see every bite."

"Come on, Carson, I'm perfectly capable of going down to the mess hall."

"Sure you are, but the question is, would you make it there? Or would you get distracted and pulled away? No, no question about it, you're staying right here."

"That only happens when there's a crisis, Carson, you know that. Why don't you come with me?"

"Because I have about a hundred tests to run and results to compile. Sit. Call Rodney if you want some company."

John thinks about that and decides he'll forgo the pleasure. It would be nice, but he's already tired of dealing with Shaaziya's averted face. "Nah, that's fine, I'm sure he's busy."

Carson nods thoughtfully and leaves John to get dressed while he orders up the required meal.

John retrieves his uniform from the washroom and decides that it's a little too ripe, so he stays in the scrubs.

When he returns to his bed and the airman delivers two trays to John, he snaps. "Carson, for God's sake, I can't eat all of this!"

Carson sticks his head out of the office. "Yes, I know, be there in a moment."

He joins John a few moments later, sitting down and pulling his tray close. "So, tell me all about what happened."

 

Day Sixty

Carson calls John back to the infirmary, and gets the missing sample. "Come in and have a seat. I want to go over what I've found so far." He looks tired, as if he'd stayed awake all day. "Did you sleep well? No disturbing dreams, or nightmares?"

John drapes himself over the side chair as Carson retrieves the data, disguising the fact that he's nervous. "Not really. I ran the decks, read for a while, watched a few movies. I wasn't sleepy."

Carson frowns. "Describe how you felt."

"Really awake, energetic. Honestly, I haven't felt this great in a long time."

"Well, that doesn't surprise me. If it weren't so bloody painful, I'd be tempted to do a bone marrow aspiration—but it's not necessary."

"Thanks, and I'll pass."

Carson looks up from the screen, smiling. "Aye, it would only be to assuage my curiosity, and despite Rodney's assertions, I'm not that cruel. So, here's what I've found, and some of it's quite surprising."

Carson goes through the results of each test, detailing what's changed. John's got his tonsils and appendix back, there's no indication of where he'd broken his arm when he jumped off the roof at age ten, or of the various other broken bones and ribs that John's accrued in a lifetime in the service, and in the Pegasus galaxy. His BMI is down more than three days can account for, but Carson's already considered that.

"What does all of this mean?"

"It's like you have a brand new body. There's no sign of decay in the nuclei, or abnormal morphology in the lamin-A or aging wrinkles in the mitochondria, but the removed organs mysteriously reappearing, aye-thats a big one."

John knows what this is leading up to, but he just wants to hear it out loud. "And the conclusion?"

Carson sighs. "I think its a strong indicator for ascension and descension—though no one witnessed anything of the sort. Chaya's exam records are back on Atlantis, and the Daedalus just doesn't hold too much in the way of medical research on the subject. The facts as they are merely support that its a strong possibility."

"I thought you might say that." John thinks that Zuhair might have some answers about what had happened, but they aren't talking to him at the moment. "I noticed that their ATA detector seemed to react more strongly afterwards."

"It's possible, but I can't lay my hands on data for comparison, but from memory it does seem as if you have more active ATA genes." Carson pauses and studies John. "You know that I'm required to give Elizabeth and Caldwell a report. The question is, are you really John Sheppard?"

It hadn't occurred to John that his actual existence was being questioned. "I'm still me, Doc."

"The genetic profile suggests that, yes, but I lack any definitive comparison and certain sections seem to fall outside the parameters of normal. The ATA gene, for example. You're you, you're just more you, I think."

"So what are you going to tell them?"

"A guarded yes, based on the fact that I simply don't have all the information at hand, and I'm making comparisons from memory. This is just the physical construct, John, a person is more than just a body."

John nods. "Well, you gotta do what you gotta do."

"We'll do our best to keep this private, but certain people are probably going to put two and two together—if he hasn't already—when he gets his head out of the clouds."

"I just hope it stays there a while."

"To be honest, I haven't even run her test yet. Yours was a far more interesting case."

John slaps his hands on his knees and stands. "Thanks, Carson."

"You're welcome, John. If you continue to have trouble sleeping, come and see me. And eat."

"Yes, mum. You too." John gives Carson a smirk as he leaves the infirmary.

 

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