John felt smothered by darkness. It was wrapped around him like a heavy weight and he tried to shrug it off like he would a blanket it. But it would not be dislodged so easily. So he drifted in the cocooned warmth for a bit until the sound of voices penetrated through the muffled layers of sub-consciousness. They pulled him toward the light.

"He's doing fine, Rodney."

"You keep saying that, but he's still not awake."

"He'll wake up when he's ready. You told me yourself he's opened his eyes a few times while you were sitting with him."

"True...but maybe you should hook him back up to the heart monitor at least. Just to be safe."

"The major's heart is just fine, Rodney. Trust me. Now either settle down somewhere or go away. You're making me nervous."

The voices were blessedly familiar. Comforting. They pushed away the darkness, even though John wasn't ready yet to open his eyes. He heard a scraping sound and a soft thud and he knew that it was Rodney settling next to him in the chair that was off to his right. John was content to listen to the sounds Rodney made as he settled himself. Shifting a bit, mumbling to himself, then the sound of tin foil and John knew McKay was eating a powerbar. And that was comforting in itself. It was just a little thing but it was a part of the life John had been trying so desperately to get back to.

He let himself relax into the comfort of soft blankets, feeling the tension that had gripped him for so long, ease from his muscles. He listened hard, waiting for that other sound. The devil's laughter. But there was nothing but the sound of Rodney sniffing a bit and still crinkling the paper on his powerbar. John shifted a bit, barely moving, just enough to jog awake the pain that was a part of him. But it was gone, leaving behind an empty feeling that was a bit overwhelming and scary, but at the same time it was exhilarating. Only he felt too exhausted to revel in it. It was enough that it was gone. And it was perfect that Rodney was with him. John felt safe. So when the darkness wrapped around him again, he welcomed it. He was finally home.

"So...what page are you on?"

John looked up from his book to see Weir approaching. He smiled at her. "Page 52. A little behind schedule."

Elizabeth nodded. "You'll catch up." She sat down in the ever present chair. "Where's Rodney?"

"I sent him to bed." John set his book aside. "He makes me tired just looking at him."

"He's stuck to you like glue." Elizabeth was smiling as she spoke.

John knew that and he appreciated it more than he could convey with words. "Rodney is a good friend. I wouldn't have made it through this without him."

Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment, as if composing herself then she sighed softly. "We came too close to losing you, John. You scared me."

"I scared myself." That was a confession that was surprisingly easy to make. He looked at Elizabeth and realized that her eyes were shiny and that his own were starting to burn. Lifting one hand, he surreptitiously rubbed away the tears he wouldn't let fall.

"You're tired." Elizabeth was on her feet, eyeing him with concern.

John was tired and he figured it was okay to go along with her. "It's been a long day."

Elizabeth reached out and took his hand. She squeezed it briefly then let go. "I'll tell Carson to limit your visitors for the rest of the day. I know everyone has pretty much paraded in and out non stop since you woke up."

"It's been kinda weird." In the four days since he had been awake, John swore that every person on Atlantis and a good portion of the Athosians had come to see him. If only to pop in and say hi. And sometimes they just seemed to stand there and stare at him, like he might disappear if they blinked.

"You've made an impact on everyone, Major." Elizabeth's voice was soft and sincere. "We can't afford to lose you."

John had his doubts about that, but he offered a tired grin. "I'm not going anywhere." And he meant it.

Elizabeth looked relieved. "Get some rest. I'll come by again tomorrow." With that she was gone.

John didn't reach for his book. He was tired so he curled up on his side and closed his eyes, but he didn't fall asleep. Not until he heard Rodney slipping back into the chair. John slitted his eyes just enough to see him and smiled to himself when Rodney opened his laptop and started typing. Only then did John drift into slumber.

He was back in his room. Finally. But John felt like he didn't really belong there. He couldn't explain why he felt so unsettled, but he didn't have time to fret on it. Not ten minutes after he was put to bed by Beckett and fussed over, Rodney showed up bearing gifts. More or less.

"You hungry?" Rodney asked, as he dumped a couple of chocolate bars on the bed.

"You've been holding out," John chided him, teasingly, as he scooped one up.

Rolling his eyes, Rodney dumped the rest of his armload of things on the table in the corner.

John watched him through narrowed eyes. "Are you moving in or something?"

"Ha ha," Rodney shot back, as he grabbed a chair and hauled it over to the bed. He sat down, shuffled his feet, wrung his hands a few times, then he locked eyes with Sheppard. "Don't ever do that again!" He blurted out, and his voice was low but sharp.

"Rodney..." John began, knowing what McKay meant, but a wave of Rodney's hand silenced him.

Rodney took a moment to compose himself then he leaned forward, eyes still locked on Sheppard's face. "Where the fuck do you get off asking me to kill you? Hah? How could you ask me that?" Rodney was on his feet now, pacing, hands jerking about wildly as he rambled on. "What pisses me off the most is that you meant it? You fucking meant it!" Rodney glared at Sheppard now, the accusation in his voice clear as a bell. "You can't do that, you sonofabitch. You don't get to ask me to do that! EVER!"

John let Rodney continue. Let him get it all out. At the time he hadn't realized what he was asking, but he understood it better than anyone. Sumner had asked John to kill him, and he had done just that, shooting the Colonel in the heart. John knew that Sumner was dying but it still haunted him to this day. And he felt regret that Rodney had been subjected to those nightmares. Once he realized McKay had fallen silent and was waiting for a reply, John closed his eyes and whispered, "I was dying."

"BULLSHIT!" Rodney's voice thundered in the room. "You gave up, Major! You fucking gave up!"

"You don't understand." John was getting angry now. He yanked back the covers and slid off the bed, slapping away Rodney's hand when he felt himself sway. He simply locked his knees and glared back at McKay. "I was dying, Rodney! I could feel it! And I was tired of living like that! Get it?"

Rodney didn't back down. "No...I don't get it." His voice was hushed now and he dropped down into the chair. "All I know is that you gave up and that scared the hell out of me."

John could see that Rodney was shaking and that startled him. "Why?" he asked softly. "Why would that scare you?"

"Because you never give up, Major. Never. But you did." Rodney's voice cracked and he buried his face in his hands.

"Rodney...I...I'm sorry." John didn't know what else to say. He wasn't ready to deal with this. He didn't know if he ever would be. A part of him wanted to put everything that had happened in the past few months behind him. To just bury it in the past where it belonged. That was how John lived his life. It was how he survived. You let go of the past and kept moving forward. But he realized it wasn't something McKay was used to doing.

Rodney scrubbed at his face then looked at Sheppard. He scowled. "Sit down before you fall down." When the major just looked at him, Rodney snapped, "I'll call Beckett."

John sat down. "Rodney...you have to let it go." He had to make him understand.

"Sounds good in theory," Rodney allowed. "Not so easy to practice. You have to give me time to deal with this. You owe me."

"I know." John couldn't argue with McKay logic. Although sometimes it was fun trying. But he was too worn out to make the effort right now.

Rodney studied him. "I brought chess but we can play later."

John made a face. "I hate chess."

"You'll get over it." Rodney stood up and gathered up the candy bars. "Lie down. Take a nap." He made it an order, not a request.

"You're bossy," John groused, but he realized he was happy to stretch out. His eyes drifted closed but peeled back open when he felt the covers drawn over him. It was weird having Rodney fuss over him. It had been different before, when he was fighting the drug. Different because he had been different then. But John allowed it because it was Rodney, and because he was too tired to stop him. So he let his eyes close again and listened to the sounds Rodney made.

After a moment Rodney asked, "Need anything?"

John considered. "No," he replied, keeping his eyes closed. He expected Rodney to say goodbye and leave, but he heard more shuffling then a tapping sound and John had to open his eyes. He was surprised to see Rodney sitting at his desk working on his laptop. "What are you doing?"

"Working." Rodney made it sound like it was a stupid question.

"You don't have to stay with me." John realized what this was.

Rodney kept typing. "Yeah...I do."

And suddenly John knew he was wrong about this. About why Rodney was here.

"I need to be here right now," Rodney blurted out. As if he could read Sheppard's mind.

"I'm not going anywhere, Rodney," John whispered.

Rodney stopped typing. "Yeah...I know. But...I need to watch you breathe."

John was only now beginning to understand the hell he had put Rodney through. He felt regret for that, but he let it slide away. He couldn't change what had happened, so he would let it go. "Okay." He didn't know what else to say.

"Major." Rodney shifted in his chair and was staring at him.

"Yeah?"

A moment of silence then Rodney cleared his throat before making an offer. "If you want to talk about what happened. You know...with Kolya and all. I'll listen."

John knew what it cost Rodney to make that offer. He closed his eyes against the sudden, and surprising, sting of tears. "Maybe someday," he allowed. "But not now."

"Right." Rodney looked embarrassed and went back to typing.

"Thank you," John whispered. He wanted Rodney to know he was grateful. And maybe some day he would be able to talk about it and tell Rodney how he really felt. Maybe he would find the words to convey his gratitude. Although John wasn't sure the words existed to truly thank someone for saving your life. For dragging you out of hell over and over again. Maybe, someday, when he was able to detach himself from the reality without losing who he was again. Or maybe that day would never come. But it was enough to know that McKay would be willing to listen.

Rodney went back to typing.

John closed his eyes again. But before he drifted off to sleep he heard McKay whisper,

"You're welcome."

Then the only sound that echoed in the warm darkness, was silence.

THE END