Tag to 1x04: Thirty-eight minutes. Because nightmares are a thing after something creepy as that.

The claws were digging in his throat. The pain was unbearable, but he couldn't move his hands. Breathing was difficult and he could only manage short breaths.
It dug further and further, choking him. Nobody was there to help as he let out a final breath.

With a gasp John sat up in bed. He was drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. His hands were tingling, but he could move them, and they went to his throat to find the bug. It wasn't there.

Of course it wasn't. It had been five days since they had removed that awful thing from his neck. But the memories haunted his every dream ever since.

John wiped away the sweat on his forehead and tried to get his breathing under control. His body was trembling, and he clenched his hands into fists a couple of times until the weird feeling in them were gone.

He looked at his watch. 02:36. He sighed. Yet another day of barely a couple of hours of sleep. He swung his legs off the side of his bed, but remained sitting, until the trembling in his body faded.

It was almost the same dream every night; the bug on his throat, nobody there to help, and he slowly choked to death until he woke up. Sometimes screaming, but mostly shaking and gasping for air.

Five days ago, when they got the bug off, Dr. Beckett had let him go after only one night in the infirmary, under the condition that he had to rest in his quarters and not go back to work for a couple of days. It frustrated John, but he initially complied. But the nightmares kept him awake, and after only one day he had practically begged dr. Weir for something to do. So, he was allowed to train soldiers, which proved difficult without any sleep.
And now for the fifth time of waking up early, he felt exhausted. Like all the energy was sucked out of him, just like the bug had sucked out his life.

He got up slowly, and when he was sure he wasn't going to fall over, he walked over to the bathroom to wash away the sweat in his face. The John looking back in the mirror wasn't pretty. Bags under his eyes, and his face as white as a sheet. The wounds on his throat had healed, but the scars were still visibly red.

John pinched his nose for the headache that was crawling up his neck. As he closed his eyes, the images of the nightmare flooded back into his mind, and he quickly reopened them. There was no way he was going to get some sleep now.

He grabbed a bottle of painkillers he got from Beckett and took two. Just for the headache, he told himself. His breathing was still a bit too fast and he muttered a curse. He hated feeling this weak.

He fell back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He could go to Beckett and ask for something to help him sleep without dreaming. But that would be admitting he was not as okay as he said he was. Beckett would not let him go that easily out of the infirmary in the future.

He tried closing his eyes again, trying to imagine anything but the nightmare, but it was like the images were glued to the back of his eyelids. Mumbling a curse again, he got up and put on pants and shoes. Maybe Beckett wasn't even on call and he could just ask that lovely nurse for some pills. Nobody else needed to know.

He walked to the infirmary, glad it was quiet all around. But as he got there, he heard soft voices. Including Beckett's voice.

John hesitated near the door. He could still leave, go back in an hour or so. He was about to turn when the door opened. One of the soldiers walked out, hand bandaged, and quickly said a "Night sir" before walking off. Beckett stood in the middle of the room and had of course seen him as soon as the door opened. John grit his teeth. No turning back now.

'Major Sheppard, what can I do for you at this hour?' he asked, waving him in. John took a silent but deep breath and walked in.

'I uh…'

Beckett pointed at one of the beds.

'Sit, you look like you could keel over any second.'

John grimaced but did as he was told. He accepted a cup of water Beckett handed him, and cursed himself for not being able to hide the small tremor in his hand. Beckett must've noticed but didn't say a thing about it.

'You were saying?'

'I was just wondering, there aren't any long-term effects from the whole bug-thing, are there?' he carefully said. It felt stupid to say he was having nightmares; he wasn't a child.

'I can't promise you for 100%, but all the tests we did proved you were of good health, save from the wounds it made. But I see they healed up pretty nicely,' Beckett answered, looking at his scars.

John nodded.

'Okay, thank you doctor, I guess that was all,' he said as he got off the bed, but Beckett interrupted his attempt at escaping.

'You don't look so good, are you not feeling well? I could run some more tests-'

'No that's okay, I'm fine, it's not the wounds that hurt,' John said. Beckett raised his eyebrows and John realized his mistake. He groaned as his stupidity.

'Then what else is bothering you?'

John sat back down on the bed.

'I can't sleep,' he admitted in a quiet voice.

Beckett had heard him though.

'Aye, that's understandable major. It was quite a traumatic experience. Has this been going on since you left here?'

John subtly nodded. Beckett sighed.

'Major, it's been five days. You should come to me sooner,' he said, as he walked away to some cabinet on the other side of the room. He rummaged through some bottles, found something, and came back.

'This will help you sleep a dreamless sleep. Take one, just before going to bed. They work fast.'

John smiled as he reached for the bottle, but Beckett pulled it back.

'Promise me you won't wait this long next time, or I swear I will keep you here for as long as I want,' he said in a strict tone.

John grimaced, nodded, and took the bottle.

'I will, I promise.' Both knew that promise wouldn't last long, but at least Beckett had tried.

He thanked the doctor again and returned to his quarters.

As he sat in bed and swallowed a pill, he wondered how well and fast they would work. Not even 5 minutes later, he fell back onto his bed, just in time to get his boots off, and he drifted away into a peaceful dreamless sleep.

Until his alarm went off, of course, at 06:30. But he felt better than in all the five days before.