"Kolya!"

John screamed at the pain in his chest his eyes seeing nothing but blinding light, the heat from the TV lights warm against his skin, hot on his face. His chest burned.

"John, you are safe. You are home," a voice soothed and John felt a cool touch on his hot forehead.

John concentrated on the voice, checking his frantic breath to control the pain.

"Who…?" he gasped. He was lost in the memory of Kolya's prison and torture, but he desperately wanted to go where the voice was leading him.

"It's Teyla, John. You're in the infirmary. Carson is here, Rodney is here."

"And it's about time you stopped scaring us with the waking up screaming routine."

"Rodney! Ronon fell asleep, but he's here. You're safe, John."

"Teyla…"

John relaxed all of a sudden, the fear washing out of him in a rush. He blinked and some of the glare softened into individual blobs and colors. He wanted to feel awake, but there was a heaviness over his whole body and a fluffiness between his ears that probably meant Carson was cooking up the good stuff. He fought to remember something important.

"Everyone…home?" he asked. There was a chuff of exasperation alongside a chuckle of warmth.

"Do you even remember what happened, Sheppard?"

"I remember that you're Rodney McKay," John answered, pleased he was up to making a small joke. Rodney snorted and John turned his head, now able to identify the blob that was Rodney by voice.

"I didn't think so. Ronon and the medics walked you home after I managed to extend the shields to keep the gateroom from flooding. Lorne and I made it back about an hour later. We gated to a space gate and watched water from 404 turn to ice fog until the gate closed again. It was really pretty, I have to admit."

"Water…" John remembered water. In fact, he remembered nothing but water. Water rising, creeping up on him like a living thing. A giant wave swallowing up a whole island.

"Case!" he exclaimed, memory rushing back and pushing his heart into a lopsided thump that brought back the painful pressure.

"Woah, there, lad. None of that." The white blob that John finally recognized as Carson shoved closer and John felt the cool press of a stethoscope against his chest. "Ye promised to keep him calm, Rodney."

"He asked! What did I do?"

"Ye can bloody well stop reminding him of the nutter who put him lying in my care, is what."

"But -"

"Sgt. Case is in custody. Dr. Heightmeyer is looking after him." That voice was Teyla and John turned his head again to find her blob, again letting her words soothe him. Case was in custody. Everyone was home. Mission accomplished...sort of. He braced himself against a growing collection of messages his body was sending him, all them "urgent" and all of them "uncomfortable".

"He thought I…was…someone else," John explained, for some reason feeling the need to explain his current weak state.

"Yes," said the Rodney blob, "He still does. He's been screaming down there for three days to anyone who'll stand still that you're not Sheppard. That Sheppard's been compromised. That he did it to save Atlantis from you."

"I'm me," John whispered.

"Of course you are, son." Carson. "And you need your rest. We've managed to patch you up again, but I'd not be expecting to run any marathons any time soon."

"Rats," John said with enough sarcasm that the doctor chuckled.

"Just rest up and you'll be fit enough to join the Daedalus on the gate seeding mission into the void."

John frowned. "That's a month away, doc."

"Aye. It's a bit rushed, I'll grant you. You behave, though, and I think you'll make it."

John squinted until he forced his eyes to focus more clearly on the room around him. Whatever was making his head fuzzy kept trying to convince him that two and three versions of every object was better than one, but with an effort, he managed to see that Carson was deadly serious.

"It's just a busted shoulder," John tried.

"And a lacerated kidney. You were running on empty from internal bleeding when they brought you here. We had quite a few scary moments in surgery. If you had been anywhere but Atlantis..." Carson trailed off and John swallowed hard. Teyla's hand found his arm - the one that wasn't tied tightly across his chest - and squeezed.

"I'll be fine," he said, trying to put in a cocky tone that he didn't feel.

"Aye. That you will."

Carson's confident tone finally reassured him. He closed his eyes, giving up on trying to keep the room from swimming. He might have dozed off because when he jerked them open again, the room was dimmer and Rodney was the only one nearby.

"Thought...you were tired...of waiting for me to wake up," John yawned. It was easier to see when the lights weren't so bright. Rodney startled, looking up from the tablet computer he was poking at.

"Oh, well, I'm due for my daily checkup in a few minutes anyway so I told Teyla and Ronon to go get some sleep and that I would make sure you kept waking up satisfactorily."

"Checkup?"

Rodney's tone went utterly snide. "Yes. For the gunshot wound you inflicted a week ago. These kinds of serious injuries don't just heal ovenight, you know."

"Rodney..." John groaned. It came out something like Raaaawdneeeeey and he must have sounded pretty pathetic because, for the first time, Rodney looked chagrined.

"I suppose that was in bad taste considering you've got a hole in you as well."

"Two holes."

"Yes. We were all properly concerned for your well being. Again. Those sergeants you had with you have practically been hovering. Ronon had to threaten one of them with latrine duty to get him to go take a nap."

"Sergeants?"

"Weiss, I think was his name. It's kindof cute the way your little minions look up to you. Too bad they don't know you like I do. I could tell some stories that would knock the polish off your golden image."

John shook his head. "Those minions are incredibly capable and highly trained fighting machines. I was no match for Case when it came down to it." He looked away, scrubbed at his face. "It's been a crappy few months. Case is nuts but...maybe he has a point. Maybe I'm not up to...the big job." John's voice went soft.

There was a long silence and for a moment, he was certain that Rodney was agreeing with him. He looked back and almost jumped when McKay was standing right at the edge of the bed madly poking at a pearly palm scanner.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm scanning you for anomalies to figure out if maybe you really have been replaced by someone else."

"McKay!"

Rodney chuffed, rolled his eyes. "We've all had a few crappy months. But they would have been a whole lot crappier if someone else had been watching our backs around here. Sergeant Psycho can't have known the whole story if he was accusing you of doing a bad job."

"Thanks," John whispered. He was pretty surprised by the encouragement that was just almost...nice coming from the usually careful narcissist. Rodney just shook his scanner a little, shrugged and put it back in his pocket.

"Nope, you're you. And we're lucky to have you after the trouble you managed." He sat down, began poking at his tablet again. "But that doesn't mean you're off the hook for shooting me."

John groaned so loudly that the duty nurse rushed over to check on him. Feeling suddenly well cared for, he played up the attention quite a bit (the nurse was pretty cute, actually) and flirted until Rodney was squirming and turning red.

He'd had a crappy few months and had another one looming in front of him. People would come and go, sometimes painfully. But he still had Atlantis. He did everything he did for her, he realized. Atlantis was home. Atlantis was his mission. It was almost frightening what he would do. What he'd already done to get home to her. That's what Case had missed. He'd missed the big picture - the mission. It wasn't about defeating enemies, it was about surviving one crappy day and getting to go home before you had to face the next one.

"I'm sorry I shot you," John whispered, once the nurse had left and he was drifting towards sleep again.

Rodney looked up, grinned. "I'm sorry you got shot," he replied.

"Let's say - no one gets shot for a whole month. I'll make it an order."

"That sounds really great except for one thing."

"What's that?"

"You do know where we live? You can't even gate to a tropical island to remove weather equipment without a gunfight. It would take an intervention of biblical levels to prevent Pegasus from throwing something at us for that long. The Ancients themselves would have to return, and it's not like they're really going to show up and say 'thanks for keeping the floors clean, we'd like the keys to Atlantis back, now'."

John snorted. "You're probably right. But I'm going to give it a try."

"Go ahead."

"Done."

"Five seconds and so far, so good."

"Rodney?"

"What?"

"Shut up."

Alex followed Dr. Heightmeyer into the infirmary, feeling more tense every step closer to the Colonel's bed they got. It had been a week since Case had flipped. Alex just wanted to get on with his life. Once Sheppard had turned the corner and Beckett had said he'd recover for sure, Alex had been trying hard to shove the whole thing into the far corner of his mind.

"Good afternoon, Colonel Sheppard. Are you still feeling up to going over my report?" Heightmeyer greeted Sheppard warmly, sounding calm and cheerful as always. Sheppard grinned - a bit self consciously, Alex thought - and tugged at his shirt that, no doubt, kept riding up. Alex hated hospital wear, too.

"Sure thing, doc." Sheppard deftly moved a tray of empty plates off his lap and onto the side table with the hand that wasn't held tightly across his chest by a white sling. He was wearing red scrubs and sat on top of the blankets, propped up by pillows and the tilt of the mattress. He crossed his legs at the ankles and offered his hand to Heightmeyer for an awkward, lefty shake.

There was something about seeing the commander of Atlantis lounging in bare feet and pajamas that just seemed odd to Alex. Like the man wears his boots to bed, he thought, chastising himself. Sheppard had only just started getting back on his feet after surgery and a tough few days of recovery.

There was a rumor going around that he'd crawled so close to the edge that Beckett had called for his friends and set up a death watch. Alex thought that was pretty funny. He'd been there. Sheppard's team and sometimes even Dr. Weir and Major Lorne sat with him until he started waking and resting regularly, but out of friendship rather than fear. They had let Alex sit vigil with them, Ronon, especially, understanding his need to see the thing through to the end. Beckett had been concerned and aggressive in his care, but never pessimistic. Alex supposed there was a bit of truth in the rumor - Sheppard had been pretty sick if not given up on. Even now, though he looked scrubbed and fluffed, there was a stiff efficiency to his motions that belied pain held in check.

Heightmeyer tugged a chair over and sat down with her clip board on her lap. Alex didn't feel like getting that comfortable, so he locked his hands behind his back and spread his legs to stand in an easy at-ease just behind her right shoulder. Sheppard gave him an amused nod of approval, then turned his attention to the shrink.

"What is your evaluation of Sergeant Case, Kate?"

"In a nutshell, Sgt. Andrew Case is suffering from multiple psychological issues including Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, delusion and perhaps mild schizophrenia."

Sheppard shook his head. He looked almost angry. "That's not supposed to happen, doc. He's not supposed to be here."

"I assume you are referring to the standard psychological checks all personnel are subject to before serving."

"Exactly. And especially before serving here. The SGC is supposed to repeat all exams before they're assigned to Atlantis."

"Case's record shows a history of exemplary conduct and performance. He was hand picked for the Stargate program and then personally requested transfer to Atlantis almost as soon as we reinstated contact with Earth. His previous psychology evaluations made note of a tendency towards a temper and slight issues with anger management, but there were no scores that set off any red flags. Back then."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow, and Alex looked at the doctor, too.

"Back then?"

Heightmeyer sighed. "In retrospect, there are small, tiny things that - when read in the current context - reveal tendencies that make sense."

"He had a problem with anger management, alright," Alex quipped, then reddened, not sure he was free to speak, but Heightmeyer just agreed with a nod.

"I believe that Andrew formed an...appreciation for you, Colonel Sheppard, that became obsessive. I don't know if obsessive love is an issue for him in all his relationships or just this one, but it wouldn't surprise me."

Sheppard had gone red in the face and looked like a man trying very hard to stay casual. "Obsessive, ahem. Obsessive love?"

"In Andrew's case, the term refers to a kind of extreme hero worship rather than physical or sexual love."

"Oh." Sheppard looked only a little relieved. "We didn't have a, um, relationship."

"No, the relationship Andrew imagined was one of hero commander and dutiful warrior subordinate and existed only within his own mind. There have been some examples of stalkers who became violent against celebrities they idolized. And in many of those cases, the perpetrator was convinced they had a relationship with the victim. The difference here, of course, is that you did have a working relationship and were in several combat situations together."

"I remember him being an eager ass kisser, but he got the job done. He was on the promotion list for next quarter. If I got suspicious of every frostbite that showed up trying to impress senior command around here, I'd lose half my unit. I need to know why Case snapped."

Alex was glad Sheppard asked. He'd heard the psychobabble. It still didn't make sense - to a sane person.

"Andrew was able to function almost normally within the context of his daily life, even with the fantasy-obsession active in his mind. The fantasy itself allowed for normal interaction between a Marine sergeant and the commanding officer of his base. But when you contradicted the image Andrew had created of you, he was forced to either accept a new definition of his hero, or create another explanation for why you had...disappointed him."

"You let the wraith go!" Alex exclaimed suddenly. "When you let that wraith from Kolya's planet go, Case flipped out. He wasn't the same after that."

"Andrew couldn't reconcile the action he found abominable with the hero he idolized. His mind couldn't handle what he perceived as a fatal flaw and so it created a more acceptable scenario that fit the circumstances."

"He decided I was an imposter." Sheppard flopped against his pillows.

"And as an imposter, Andrew could justify his actions against you."

Sheppard scrubbed his eyes with his free hand. "I'd figured out the what. Didn't know why he was so convinced I was something else. He told you all this?"

Heightmeyer shook her head. "No. He is still firmly clinging to his delusion. I'm recommending immediate medical discharge and commitment to a mental health facility. What I have pieced together has mostly come from Sgt. Weiss, here, and some other of Andrew's colleagues."

"I'm sorry, sir," Alex said formally. "I missed the signs. I knew Case was a hot head, arrogant, piece of work with a weird fascination for you. I just never...thought..."

"He'd put a gun to my head."

"Andrew is an extremely intelligent, competent soldier, gentlemen. In many ways, he fooled the entire SGC psychology department and truly was fooling even himself. There's no shame in this. Psychology is no exact science. Even in my own experience, I've never seen someone function at such a high level with such disastrous results."

"Great. All the bases in all the world, uh, universe, and we're the lucky ones who get the brilliant psychotic."

"Andrew is a very damaged young man. He will never serve again. He may never live without observation again."

The way Heightmeyer said it, Alex just almost felt sorry for the guy for a split second. Sheppard, too, looked a little sympathetic.

"I'll sign the release forms."

"The SGC is expecting Sgt. Case next week. He'll travel with the monthly reports and other personnel who are returning through the stargate."

"Thanks, doc. Would you get this report to Lorne so he can update the base and write us up some suggestions for handling any um...future scenarios that may occur?"

"I can give you a list of some symptoms that may indicate more than your usual 'I'm serving with THE Colonel John Sheppard' excitement."

Sheppard flushed deep red again and looked genuinely annoyed.

"It doesn't work that way, Kate. These guys and gals are the best and brightest. They come here expecting a tough job and work their butts off for me. I'm nothing special. It's Atlantis that's special."

Heightmeyer gave him one of those looks - the kind that said she was intrigued by the psychology you were displaying - and Sheppard grew even more stony faced. Alex himself could have told her that Sheppard had just contradicted himself in that very sentence. A commander as self-deprecating as the Colonel was a rare and admirable thing. Well...rare in Alex's limited experience, he admitted privately.

"I think you underestimate your influence on your command, Colonel," Heightmeyer said at last.

"Well, my influence is going to include a lot more knocking heads if everyone thinks I'm such a nice guy."

"Oh, we don't think that, sir." Alex blurted, then felt his own face go hot. Sheppard glared, then - apparently unused to remaining gruff - he grinned.

"Well, that's good to hear. Thanks Kate."

Heightmeyer stood up and clasped hands with Sheppard again. "You're welcome. I'll finish this report and hand it to Major Lorne. You'll also get my comments within the week."

Alex waited til she had passed, then turned to leave.

"Hey, sarge," Sheppard called him back with a wave. He was sagging more heavily into his pillows and his eyes had gone drowsy. That unease at seeing his commander so...vulnerable flooded Alex again and he stepped to the bedside, fighting to keep from fidgeting.

"Yes, sir?"

"I heard you pushed Lorne to gear up a rescue team and that you took the shot that knocked Case's gun out of his hand. I just wanted to say thanks."

"Um...you're welcome sir." Alex didn't know what else to add.

"That was a hell of a shot. What made you think you could hit his gun in that wind? I couldn't have done it."

"Um. I couldn't either. I missed. I was aiming for his...heart, sir." Sheppard's face went very still. Alex rushed on, suddenly feeling like he needed to explain himself. "We were too far away and the storm was too bad to talk Case down. I knew he was capable of violence and couldn't let him...kill you, sir. When I saw him lean into his aim, I had to stop him. If I hadn't missed, you wouldn't have almost been strangled and hit by shrapnel." The last came out bitter.

"I'm no sniper, sergeant, but that was a pretty wide miss." Sheppard sounded, flat, cold.

Alex flushed even deeper red. "There was a lot of wind, sir," he snapped, then instantly regretted the excuse. Sheppard's glare bored into his head, and then he nodded.

"It's hell to have to make the choice you did, sergeant. For what it's worth, I think you made the right one."

Alex felt a sting in his eyes that he blinked away in furious defiance. How did he know? He'd wanted to shoot Case. He'd lined his shot up on Case's heart thinking nothing but what hours of training had drilled into him. And when he'd pulled the trigger, he'd let his finger jerk on the trigger. He'd let the wind push the muzzle around too many degrees.

"He could have killed you," Alex repeated, and this time the shudder of horror he'd buried for the past week nudged at his shoulders.

Sheppard shrugged, then pulled a face when the motion tweaked his immobilized shoulder. "You held him back, gave him a chance to reconsider. Twice, if the stories around here are accurate. You clipped him in the leg, too. It's like Heightmeyer said - there's no shame to be felt here."

Alex wanted to believe that, but he couldn't think of anything to say so Sheppard cocked his head, "Do you know the difference between responsibility for and responsibility to?"

"Sir?"

"You were not responsible for Case's actions. No one can be responsible for someone else's free will. But we all have a responsibility to each other. Especially, here. Especially doing what we do."

"I had a responsibility to you, sir. And I blew it." It was the guilt he'd been trying to run from for a week.

"You also have a responsibility to your peers, and that includes Case, not just me. You had a shitty choice, sergeant. You tried to find a path in the middle. It worked out alright." Sheppard hissed and shifted his shoulders again. "Mostly alright," he added with a rueful grin. Alex returned it.

"Thanks, sir," he said, trying to accept Sheppard's wisdom. It suddenly hit him that one of the most infamous and mostly confirmed rumors about Sheppard was that he'd killed Colonel Sumner his first few days on Atlantis. He felt his heart race, then decided it was worth the risk to speak the question that was knocking at his mind.

"Um, sir, was that anything like what happened with Colonel Sumner?"

Sheppard's jaw locked and he went stiff as a plaster cast. There was a horrible drawn out silence when Alex would have given anything in the universe to take back the question. At last Sheppard jerked his head sideways.

"No. Except the part about responsibility."

That was clearly all Alex was going to get. He decided to retreat before he put his foot in his mouth any further.

"Ok, sir. Um, I hope you feel better soon. It's not the same down there with out you."

The Colonel blew out a fast breath and relaxed, his easy smile returning although Alex thought his eyes remained distant.

"Dismissed, sergeant. Oh, hey - tell the guys that the rumor about how I planted the squib in the barrel and tricked Case into firing my weapon is bullshit."

"Really...?" Alex bit his lip. He'd started that rumor. Given what else he'd seen the Colonel do that day, it had seemed...plausible."

"Yeah. It was just damn bad luck. The gun was underwater for ten to fifteen minutes, at least. I was lucky I didn't blow my own hand off. I'd rather the story be used as a cautionary tale."

"Ok, sir." Alex was a little disappointed, and then he almost laughed at himself out loud for thinking like Case.

"Great. But...um, the one about seducing alien princesses to win that trade for jumpers and drones? Totally true. Every word."

Sheppard's expression was pure mischief. He waggled his eyebrows as Alex stared, trying to decide if he was serious, and Alex busted up.

"Got it, sir."

"Good."

"Good-bye."

Alex left the infirmary with a spring in his step. He was with Hutch: He hoped he was as cool as Sheppard when he was that old, too.

"Princesses?" he muttered to himself. He knew the rumor Sheppard was referring to. And he still had the same opinion as the first time he'd heard it: "Puh-leeese."

Author's Note:
The prompt for this story was: "The Water is Rising" with lots of action/adventure, which was really fun to work with. Thank you for the cool kickoff! I also worked in a side request for someone who wanted an obsession story. The two worked well together as one prompt was a setting prompt, the other a plot prompt. The rest of the story fought me every step of the way, so I apologize if there are still some rough edges (and missing commas).

I stopped counting, but at one point I was up to around 6K of discarded or rewritten scenes. Alex had no idea how hard I had to work to keep him alive. Case really wanted to kill him off, several times. It may not have been the right choice, but I wanted him to make it, if only so Shep could replace one admirer with another. Thanks to everyone who made it this far, ha!