John was starting to really hate orange.

After a week in the Lygellan hospital, he'd finally stopped flinching every time he saw an orange coat go by, but he was quite certain that he'd never get over the feeling of dread whenever someone approached him in that color. It was truly odd, he thought, how his memories got all mixed up when he thought back to those hours in the hospital…that first time. He had been absolutely certain that everyone he'd dealt with meant him harm, and he remembered the threat and malice as if it had been absolutely real.

But -- as he'd been told over and over and over since he woke up again -- it hadn't been real. The needles, the drugs, all of it had been done to help him. Elizabeth had even told him that it was the woman scientist's husband who had killed Niklas at the 'gate, saving his life in the process. It was all rather hard to take in – or believe.

John shifted a little in his bed, then gave up trying to get comfortable. With broken ribs on one side and a bullet hole on the other, there was no such thing as comfortable.

At least he'd been right about Niklas and the traders -- Elizabeth had also told him that they'd raided the terrorist base and broken down a wide cell of spies and collaborators, on Lygell and abroad. So John had been correct in interpreting their motives. Or maybe he'd just gotten lucky. After a while of trying to sort out which feelings should go with which memories, he gave up in confusion and just started counting down the minutes until he could leave this place and go home to Atlantis. Beckett and Elizabeth had promised him he could be moved later today.

Suddenly anxious, John lifted his head and looked around nervously for either Beckett or Elizabeth. One of them, or someone else from Atlantis, had been with him every moment he'd been awake, and, he suspected, most of the time even when he'd not been. He was annoyed with himself for his childish need to have a friend close by, but he looked nervously around nonetheless, only relaxing when he caught a glimpse of Elizabeth talking with someone in the hallway through the door.

John was not, normally, a fearful man, but the virus that had done a number on his grasp of reality had seen to making sure that nothing in this place could ever truly seem trustworthy. Over the last day, he'd even swung into mild depression, and John suspected that some of the medication added to his daily routine was of the anti-depression type. Beckett had said the lethargy and fearfulness, although he was kind enough not to use that word, were aftereffects of the virus and would fade soon. And John trusted Beckett, so he lay there, counting, and wishing Elizabeth would come into the room to talk to him.

He must have dozed off for a short time, because he startled a little when he felt Elizabeth's hand on his arm and opened his eyes to find her standing just beside him. She smiled with the mischievous look of someone keeping a secret and John couldn't help but chuckle in return. "You look like the cat who swallowed the canary," he teased her softly.

"I'm the cat who's going to spring the canary," she shot back with smug pride. "Neglee's team just arrived through the 'gate to escort you home, and Carson's finishing up the preparations to get your carcass mobile. He'll be here in a minute to start untangling you from this place."

John grinned, genuinely relieved, but he couldn't quite muster enthusiasm. Neglee's "escort" meant riding through the Stargate flat on his back in the hands of his own men. Not exactly a triumphant return. But he would take any kind of return he could get. As long as he was anywhere but here.

Elizabeth noticed his tepid reaction and patted his arm reassuringly, her own expression softening. "Before you do escape for good," she went on softly, "there are some people here who would like to say goodbye."

She stepped aside to wave forward the couple John hadn't noticed yet standing behind her. He felt his heart race and his breathing quicken even before his muddled brain could even start to try to convince his body that there was no threat. He clenched at the sheets with his hands and scootched away from his visitors, gritting his teeth against the stabs in his stomach the movement caused.

Mahala and Andrik remained where they were as Elizabeth rushed to calm him down, putting her hands on his shoulders and saying in soothing repetition, "It's OK, John. They won't hurt you, they never tried to hurt you. They're your friends, really. It's OK."

"I know. I know. I know…" John panted, controlling himself with difficulty. His gaze was locked on Mahala who returned his scrutiny with a stern calculating look. When he finally closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, Elizabeth let go of his shoulders to take his hand.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, sounding quite contrite. "I should have given you more warning. Mahala's been here several times before. I didn't think you'd still be alarmed."

John nodded, squeezing Elizabeth's hand hard. He didn't really remember seeing the woman whom he'd believed was torturing him since he'd left her tied to a chair. Most of his memories just after surgery and recovery had been still clouded with paranoia and were hazy at best. With a last shudder, he forced open his eyes and nodded to his visitors in greeting.

Elizabeth took a stab at breaking the ice, "John, Andrik tells me they just got word that Minister Lucus of Gellan was rescued in another raid." Andrik nodded.

"One of the traders you followed through our Stargate, Colonel, has decided that his former colleagues are more dangerous than our justice system," he said. "He has turned informant. He was also the one wearing the stolen Portal Guard's uniform who apprehended you on the roof, and the one I recognized in the courtyard as an imposter, lending credence to your claims."

Andrik suddenly stepped forward to extend his hand to John who took it for a firm handshake. "We are most grateful for your help in discovering the insurgents among us. Your…timely arrival has been the wake-up call we needed to become more diligent. Niklas was surely planning something sinister for our world before the lure of your presence tempted him to play his hand early."

"And your 'timely arrival' saved my ass at the Stargate," John retorted. "I won't soon forget it, however scrambled my brain was at the time."

Andrik smiled, "I only wish I had been a moment sooner. My wife was quite furious with me for allowing you to get shot, however much my intervention fouled Niklas's aim."

"Andrik exaggerates!" Mahala suddenly snapped, sternly. "I only mentioned to him that if he was going to go to the trouble of killing the traitor, he should have at least managed to do it before anyone else got hurt." Andrik grinned and flashed a look at Elizabeth who John could see was smothering a chuckle.

Mahala stepped closer to the bed herself. John couldn't help tensing up, now matter how many times he told himself she was not an enemy. At least she wasn't wearing her orange coat, he thought. And her hair hung over her shoulder in a long, silky loose braid that reached nearly to her waist, giving her a youthful look. He still reached for Elizabeth's hand, though, as the doctor spoke.

"I am quite relieved that you are returning to your home today," she said and John's eyebrow shot up at the double meaning he could pull from her statement. She went on, "You are a brave, resourceful man who deserves the friendship I see surrounding you. You will heal more quickly and more comfortably with them."

Surprised by the warmth of the sentiment that seemed in such stark contrast to her clipped and direct delivery, John could only stutter out, "Thank you. I am looking forward to going home."

"I'll bet you are," Mahala said and rewarded him with a very rare, genuine smile. She stepped back into Andrik's embrace, not quite leaning into her husband, but accepting the arm across her shoulder. "Despite being the most incredibly annoying patient I have ever had the misfortune to treat, I am glad our paths crossed, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. And not only because doing so led us to your vaccination for the Madman Malaria."

John grinned, "I understand. I'm not sure I really like you either. But I thank you for helping. Someday, maybe, I'll actually believe you were."

"When that day comes, return for a time. We can do that 'Getting Acquainted' part then." Mahala's wry smile was pure mischief, and John suddenly thought that maybe, under different circumstances, he might have really liked her.

More murmured good-byes were uttered and John sagged into his bed as Elizabeth escorted Andrik and Mahala, now holding hands as they walked, to the door. The weary lethargy began to pull him down into groggy numbness again and he sighed to himself. He was dreading the move, knowing it would be painful. He was dreading being gawked at as he was carried through the Stargate on a stretcher.

But he would be home, he reminded himself halfheartedly, back in the familiar infirmary where the walls were as beautiful as the view through the windows, and nobody ever wore Orange. Beckett bustled cheerfully into the room and began immediately attacking the wires and tubes that hung from everywhere. John smiled at Beckett's incessant, reassuring patter as he worked. Beckett could always make him feel better.

Maybe he could talk someone into getting him some fries out of the mess hall for him, once he was back, he thought. His smile grew more genuine.

And he was definitely going to give Rodney a call and harass him for falling for that transponder-in-the-coal-cart trick.

He was going home. As Mahala said: to heal among his friends.

He suddenly felt much better.