He stared at the computer screen, the glow harsh against the darkness of the room. The edges of his vision were jagged, refracting the light as though shards of glass surrounded him. He was tired, though, and he dismissed it.

A hand rested on the back of his head, nails scratching at his scalp. The sensation immediately made his eyes slide shut, and he took a deep breath as she ran her fingers through his hair. She always knew how to ground him, and she never needed words. As a guy who had trouble voicing the profound and intimate, he appreciated that.

It was one of the many reasons he loved her.

"I'm heading to bed," she murmured.

"I'll be up soon," he replied, his voice low and haggard. When had he gotten so tired?

"I hope so. I don't sleep as well without you."

"Colonel? John!"

He shook his head to find Elizabeth staring at him, concern etched across her features. They had been talking about…he mentally smacked himself…a mission. His last mission. Everything had gone alright for once, and she was still having a hard time believing that he hadn't blown anything up or pissed anybody off.

"Sorry," he said, shooting her that half-smirk of his. "Must've drifted off."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Our conversations bore you that much now?"

"On the contrary. I guess I just prefer your stern voice."

That made her eyebrow go up even higher, and John couldn't help but grin at her.

"You're hopeless, you know that?"

He nodded. "Damn straight."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Dismissed, Colonel."

He waggled his eyebrows at her and then popped out of the chair, heading for the door.

His shoulders were starting to ache, and he craned his neck from side to side, trying to ease some of the tension. A movement caught his eye, though, and he looked up to see her standing in the doorway, the light from the kitchen casting her in a dark silhouette. There was just enough moonlight, though, to see the streak of red that danced across her bare thighs. She was wearing it just for him, and knowing that made his mouth go dry and his heart race.

"I'm still waiting," she said softly.

"It hasn't been that long."

She fixed him with that look she seemed to specially save for him. "Hasn't it, though?"

It wasn't like him to space out during a meeting, and she watched him carefully as he moved toward the door. His cheeky grin was still plastered to his face, but there was something off, even though she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

He stopped and swayed only half a heartbeat before he dropped to the ground.

Elizabeth didn't remember getting out of her chair or crossing the room. But she was there on her knees at his side, cradling his head.

"RONON!" she bellowed.

He expected her to be in bed. The sheets were smooth and untouched, though, and he could hear the water running in the shower. He smirked as he slid his shirt off in the darkness, shadows filling the corners of the room with inky blackness. She knew how much he loved to join her in the shower, and he moved toward the sliver of light underneath the door.

He cringed as soon as he stepped inside, hot water sloshing around his bare feet. He looked down in confusion, his chest constricting as he saw the red swirling around his ankles. His heart dropped and his stomach knotted painfully as he rushed for the shower, ripping the curtain so hard he pulled it off its rings.

Her lifeless eyes stared back at him, her dark hair spread out across the deepening water.

He fell to his knees, not even noticing as his pants soaked through. He picked her head up gently, the air rushing out of his lungs.

"ELIZABETH!" he yelled, his voice already raw.

No one answered.

The big man had only been a few feet from the stairs when he heard her cry, and he bounded up them three at a time. The first thing he saw was Sheppard lying on the floor unconscious, with Elizabeth hovering over him. The fear was rolling off of her in waves, but when she looked up at him, her eyes were hard and determined.

"Get him to the infirmary. Now."

He didn't hesitate. Scooping the colonel up in his arms, he left the office, Elizabeth right behind him.

Everything was so green that it made him blink and turn his head. But there was a blurring at the edge of his vision that made him slightly nauseous, and he stilled the movement. On either side of him, Teyla and Ronon walked silently, their eyes narrow as they moved through the unfamiliar landscape.

The grass seemed to roll on forever, meeting the pale sky somewhere far ahead of them. There were no birds or animals that he could see, and a small shake of Ronon's head told him that his companions weren't sensing anything either.

They crested another hill and found a single tree. It was large, its branches heavy with the weight of its own leaves. Some bent so low that they nearly touched the ground, a sudden breeze whispering through them.

She was hanging from one of the higher branches, the rope creaking in protest.

His gun dropped to the ground and he was climbing the tree, boots scraping against the bark loudly. Even as he pulled out his knife and began sawing at the rope, though, he knew that he was too late. Her face and lips were turning blue, the cold seeping in through his own clothes.

The last piece of rope gave way, and her body hit the ground with a dull thud. No one caught her.

"Carson, what's wrong with him?" Elizabeth demanded.

The doctor shook his head. "I don't know." He had already hooked John up to the machines and taken blood samples. "I don't see anything outwardly wrong with him."

"Except that he's unconscious and sweating," Ronon said, standing behind them with his arms crossed.

Carson nodded. "Aye. What happened just before he passed out?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "We were talking about the mission he just came back from. He seemed…a little out of it. Missing parts of the conversation, like his mind was elsewhere."

"Did anything strange happen while he was off-world?"

She shook her head, turning to look at Ronon and Teyla, who had quietly joined them. "Not that he mentioned."

"He did not lie," Teyla assured her. "We shared a meal with the locals, learned about their society. There were no incidents. We decided that we had nothing they needed, and they had nothing of value for us, so we parted ways. Amicably."

"Something must have happened," she insisted. "People don't just fall unconscious for no reason."

"We'll figure it out," Carson said, his voice calm.

Elizabeth stared at John, biting her bottom lip. "We have to," she whispered.

The gun was pressed against her face, the muzzle tracing the contours of her cheeks. Lines that he had studied himself so many times before, but had never touched. She didn't cry out or flinch, though he could see the unshed tears standing in her eyes. She was scared, but she wasn't going to show her captor a damned thing.

"How does it feel, Sheppard?" the man asked. "To know that I'm going to take her away from you?"

He knew that voice. But every time he raised his eyes to his face, shadow obscured his vision. He saw the recognition in Elizabeth's eyes, but with the gag in his mouth, he couldn't even ask her who it was.

"I think I'll even let you live," he continued slowly. "To see what it's like without her. With only the burden of failure and guilt to keep you company."

The shot echoed around him, and a hoarse cry was ripped out of his chest, muffled by the gag. Elizabeth's body slumped to the side, her arms still restrained behind her back. He stared at her in anguish, blood rushing in his ears.

The man chuckled quietly. "So predictable, Sheppard," he murmured. "So easy."

"His heart rate is spiking," Carson said, worry tingeing the edges of his voice.

"Why?" she asked.

"I don't know!" He reached out and touched the colonel's forehead. "My God, he's burning up."

Teyla stepped forward, tilting her head to the side slightly. "It looks as though he is dreaming."

"Bad dreams," Ronon added.

They all watched as John's head rolled against the pillow, his muscles tensing as he grimaced. But he stayed unconscious, even as his breathing doubled.

"Carson, when is that blood work coming back?" Elizabeth said, her voice hard.

"Any time now."

The hallway was dark and cold, receding into shadows and out of sight. Behind him was an activated Stargate, but he had no idea what planet it had dialed into, and there was no control panel.

"Thinking of giving up so soon, Colonel?"

The face finally joined the voice, and his eyes went hard. "Kolya."

"I would have expected more from you. To give up so easily. To give her up so easily..."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Kolya smirked. "Isn't it obvious? I'm giving you a chance to save Dr. Weir. Again."

He frowned. "You have her?"

"I do. And the two of you are trapped here until you save her. Or until you give up." He nodded at the Stargate. "Go through the gate, and you'll be free."

"And Elizabeth?"

"Well, if you don't save her, she certainly can't go with you. That wouldn't be playing by the rules."

He felt the anger building up inside of him, blood rushing in his ears and drowning everything else out. He felt as though he could have punched through a solid wall in that instant, but none of his limbs would obey him.

"I'm going to kill you," he hissed slowly.

"You should save that energy for finding Dr. Weir. I'm afraid things can get quite unpleasant around here."

A scream echoed down the hallway.

"He looks worse," Rodney said, stepping up to the bed.

Carson nodded. "Aye."

"Well aren't you going to do something?"

The doctor sighed in frustration. "I don't know what's wrong with him. There were some strange spikes in his blood work, but…"

"But what?"

"But they don't make any compound that I'm familiar with. Or the Ancient database, for that matter. Whatever it is, the Ancients have no record of it."

Rodney frowned. "So you think he was poisoned? By who?"

Carson shrugged. "I don't know. But if I don't know what he was poisoned with, I can't treat him."

"Well you can't just let him die."

His friend sat down in the chair by Sheppard's bed. "I don't know what to do, Rodney."

He pulled her limp body from the lake, his voice too raw to yell anymore. She was dead, just like she was every time. He held her close to him, a shaking hand reaching out to brush the wet hair out of her face. His own body was numb from the cold, but he barely noticed. All he knew was that he had failed her.

Again.

Elizabeth slammed her hands down on her desk, startling the two people in front of her. "Something must have happened!"

Teyla frowned. "If we knew of something, we would not withhold it from you."

She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose momentarily. "I know," she said quietly. "It's been almost six hours."

"Dr. Beckett said he was poisoned," Ronon said. "The only place that could have happened was on our last mission."

Teyla's frown deepened. "The people of that planet seemed friendly."

He shrugged. "People aren't always what they seem."

Hands on her hips, Elizabeth stared at him. "Why, though? Why poison John and then let all of you leave?"

"Don't know. But people don't always make sense. We'll go back. See what we can find out."

She nodded. "Do it. Take Lorne with you. And for God's sake, don't eat or drink anything this time. I'm not filling that infirmary with any more of you."

She wasn't supposed to be there. She never came off-world with him unless there was negotiating that needed to be done – something he was epically bad at – and they hadn't even established if this planet was inhabited yet.

She wasn't supposed to be there.

But there she was, somehow ahead of him and disappearing into a building that looked like it had been abandoned centuries ago. He knew that she was an explorer at heart, but he should have been going in first with his team, making sure that it was safe. He made a mental note to chastise her for being so foolish.

The explosion knocked him to his knees, a wave of heat washing over him, threatening to drown him. He stared at the building in disbelief, flames dancing up into the sky as though they could reach the heavens. There had been no time, no chance for her to get out of the building. She was just gone.

He pressed his palms against the ground beneath him and screamed in rage and grief.

Elizabeth reached out, wiping at the tears that were sliding down his cheeks. It had started almost an hour ago, and she found that it scared her more than anything else.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder. "Elizabeth?"

She didn't even look up at Carson. "He's hurting, and there's nothing I can do," she whispered. "I feel so useless."

"You are doing something. Teyla and Ronon will find out what happened, and we'll get him back."

Reaching out, she took his hand in hers, almost wincing at how hot it was. "You know, he told me once that my bedside manner sucked."

Carson chuckled. "I think he's just happy every time you come see him when he's down here."

"You think?"

"Aye. His eyes light up. I think it reminds him that he's your white knight."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "My white knight?"

"Oh, come now. We all know John Sheppard is your champion. He protects Atlantis, and he protects you. It's almost like –"

John shifted suddenly, his face a mask of pain. "'Lizabeth," he choked out, his voice low and raspy.

Her entire focus was immediately back on him. "John?"

He didn't wake, though, instead shifting again and turning his head. Elizabeth watched him, hope fading in her chest as she realized that he was still trapped in his dreams. She reached out and ran a hand over his forehead.

"Did he just…?"

Carson nodded. "I guess we know what he's dreaming about now."

She bit back her own tears, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Oh, John," she whispered.

The blood was everywhere. He hadn't gotten to her in time to save her – only to see the knife slide across her throat. He slid to his knees by her side, his legs feeling bruised from the repeated motion. The life was leaving her eyes as he vainly tried to stem the tide of blood, his stomach a cold knot. He didn't know how much longer he could do this, watching her die, unable to save her. He didn't know what else he could do to change the outcome, to defeat Kolya..

He froze.

Something wasn't right.

Pulling his hand away from her wound, he fingered the ends of her hair. The woman he was staring down at was the Elizabeth Weir he had first met in Antartica, her hair cropped short. But that wasn't how she had been wearing it the last time he had seen her in Atlantis. Her hair had been growing longer, and she had taken to curling it just a little - it had distracted him on more than one occasion. His hands wandered to a spot on the side of her forehead, feeling for the tiny scar he knew should be there.

It wasn't.

It took his tired brain a few minutes to piece together a hypothesis, but when it did, he felt the rage boil within him again. His hands began to shake, and the cold knot in his stomach burned up in a rash of fire. Standing slowly, he turned his focus onto Kolya, on killing the man who was toying with him.

Then a cool breeze moved across his face and he closed his eyes.

They had barely stepped through the Stargate when Elizabeth approached them.

"What did you find?"

"There was a man," Teyla explained. "The villagers could not describe him, but he seemed very interested in our expedition."

Ronon nodded. "He disappeared just after we left."

Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. "That's all?"

Teyla reached out, resting a hand on her arm. "We asked the villagers about a drug that could induce nightmares. They knew of it."

Elizabeth forced herself to remain calm, though her hands balled into tight fists. "And?"

"He has to choose to wake up from it," Ronon said quietly. "It leads the person into a trap of dreams, and they have to find their own way out. That's the only cure."

"That's all they could tell you?"

He shrugged. "That's all there is."

"Kolya."

The man gave him a grin smile, even as he pressed the gun against her temple. "This is what you fear the most, isn't it, Sheppard? Her death at my hands."

"Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you when I get my hands on you?" he asked, his voice low and cold.

"Shouldn't you be more worried about saving your precious Dr. Weir?"

"I would be," he replied. "If she were real."

"You can't keep this up, Elizabeth," Carson said gently. "You need to get some sleep."

She shook her head. "I can't leave him."

"You can't spread yourself so thin. The second there's any change in his condition, I'll –"

"He shouldn't be alone."

"He won't be." They both turned to see Ronon walking into the room. He passed by them, lowering himself into the chair next to John's bed. "I'll stay." He looked up at Elizabeth. "Doc is right. You need sleep."

Knowing they were right didn't make it any easier. But she still had an entire city to care for, and she wasn't going to be able to do it if she ran herself into the ground.

"Call me the second –"

Carson nodded. "Rest, Elizabeth. You know John would be tellin' you the same thing."

Ronon smirked. "Of course, he'd have picked you up and carried you out of here by now."

She wanted to laugh at the image, but with him lying on that bed, obviously in torment, she couldn't. Squeezing his hand one last time, she turned and headed out of the infirmary.

"You think she's not real?" Kolya countered. "After all the blood you've had on your hands?"

He pushed that image out of his head as it threatened to overwhelm him. "I have to admit – you've got a pretty elaborate setup here. Must've gone to a lot of trouble over it." He shrugged. "You got a few things wrong, though."

"Oh?"

"Her hair. You missed a scar on her forehead. And now that I think about it, Teyla and Ronon weren't quite right. Of course, you never knew them well, so that makes sense."

"You're willing to risk that this is some kind of game?"

He shrugged again. "I've had people try to mess with my reality before. There's a certain feel to it."

"Then tell me, Colonel Sheppard…how real does this feel?"

He lowered his gun and shot her in the leg.

Ronon's head snapped up as John's body practically lifted from the table. The monitors around him were beeping wildly, and it was obvious that his discomfort had increased. Afraid that he would pull out his IV, Ronon tried to hold him down without hurting him. His breathing was shallow now, and his face was contorted in pain.

"BECKETT!" he yelled.

Her whimpers reached his ears, even though she bit her lip in an attempt to stay quiet. His eyes saw the blood spilling from the wound in her leg, and he had to fight down a wave of nausea. She was hurt, and it was because of him.

He shook his head. "This isn't real."

"Are you willing to bet her life on that?"

It couldn't be her. The hair, the scar…It couldn't be her without the scar. He had been there when she'd been hurt, had blamed himself for the injury every time he was close enough to see it. It was small, but it should have been there. He knew that.

But what if he was wrong?

He shook his head. Waffling over the issue wasn't going to help either of them – he had to make a choice.

"It was a nice try, Kolya, but I'm done playing your games. And when I find you, I will kill you. Slowly."

Kolya pressed the gun to her temple once again. "I advise you to rethink this, Colonel."

He took a step back towards the gate behind him. "You should start running now. You'll need the head start."

His finger began to pull on the trigger, and her eyes widened in fear.

"John, please," she begged.

Elizabeth Weir didn't beg.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

He turned and threw himself through the gate, the desperate scream behind him cut short by a muffled shot.

He shot out of bed so fast that Ronon didn't catch him until his feet were already on the ground. But he didn't try to go anywhere – he simply collapsed in the big man's arms, all of his strength spent. The emotions crashed through him without warning and he could barely stand, convinced that he had just killed one of the most important people in his life.

"I killed her," he gasped, his eyes squeezed shut. "God, Elizabeth…"

There was movement around him, but he wasn't aware of anything except the pain in his chest – until small hands cradled his face, thumbs running along his cheeks.

"John?"

His eyes snapped open at the sound of her voice, and he stared at her in disbelief. He searched her features, taking in the longer hair – and the way it was tousled – and the small scar on her forehead. For once, it didn't make him feel guilty.

He had her gathered in his arms before he even realized it, and he buried his head in the crook of her neck. "'Lizabeth?"

Surprised by his outburst, she ran soothing circles across his back. "It's me," she whispered. "It's just me."

He held her tighter.

"You should be in bed."

Elizabeth lifted her head to see him leaning in her doorway, hands in his pockets. He still looked like hell, but he was awake and alive, and she would take what she could get. The pain was heavy in his eyes, and she wondered if there was any chance he would open up to her about what had happened.

"I could say the same thing to you," she replied. "You've had a long day."

He shrugged, trying to play it nonchalantly. "Me? I slept all day. I feel great."

"Right." Leaning forward, she rested her chin on her folded hands. "I won't ask you to tell me," she said quietly.

John nodded, staring down at the floor. "I appreciate that."

"Doesn't mean you can't tell me, though."

He was quiet for a long moment, still not lifting his head. "Not tonight."

Elizabeth gave him a small smile. "Not tonight," she agreed. "For one thing, you really do need some rest. And that's an order, Colonel."

"Yeah. You're right."

He still didn't move from the doorway. He looked like a lost little boy, and it tugged at her heart more than she thought possible.

"Do you want some company?"

He immediately shook his head. "Nah." Without missing a beat, though, he started nodding, raising his eyes to hers. "Yeah."

She pushed herself up from her chair and came over to him, shutting the lights off as she went. He stood there waiting for her, and for awhile, they stood and stared at each other in the semi-darkness. Eventually, John shot her a cocky grin.

"So my place or yours?"

She knew the reason for his humor, and she let him have it. Raising one eyebrow, she gave him a look. "Are you getting fresh with me, Colonel?"

"Only if it's not gonna get me smacked."

"It must be your lucky day, then. I'm opposed to smacking people who have spent the day in the infirmary."

His voice was quiet. "Lucky day, indeed."

It wasn't over. He knew there would be more nightmares, and that he needed to hunt down Kolya. Tomorrow he would have to be more forthcoming about what had happened, at least enough that they could piece the puzzle together. But for now, all of that could be shelved. As Elizabeth led him toward her rooms, his hand found its place in the small of her back, and he reveled in the fact that he could feel her – breathing, alive, beside him. He wouldn't let Kolya or anyone else take her from him, no matter what.

When they reached her rooms, Elizabeth immediately set about making them a cup of tea, while John settled himself on her couch. He managed to slip off his boots, but by the time she came out with their drinks, he had leaned his head back and dozed off, his mind and body craving the rest.

Smiling, Elizabeth set the cups on the table. Gently, she pulled him down until he laying across the cushions, his head resting on pillows. He shifted at her touch, frowning slightly.

"'Lizabeth?"

She ran her fingers through his hair before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I'm right here, John. Sleep."

And he did.