March 25th 2015 Pegasus Galaxy. Atlantis.

He was hurt, really, really hurt, hurt enough that he couldn't actually remember how long he had been held for, what day it was or even what time of day it was. He couldn't even remember the name of the planet he had originally travelled to in the beginning, he wasn't even sure how he'd gotten himself into such a predicament, he knew Claire was going to be pissed at him. He couldn't help laughing, before doubling over as pain ripped across his side, he really shouldn't have laughed, there was no way he should be moving at all, but he had to keep going, he didn't know how long he was going to have before the 'people' came back again.

Pushing himself up from the floor, blood dripping from the new hole that had made an appearance in the last few days, he remembered the weapon being fired at him, remembered the white hot pain as it tore through his side, he hoped it was a straight through hole. He really didn't want to get so far before he had to stop to dig the damn thing out, and then after all that it became a bit of a blur, the people who held him drugged him with something. Or at least he thought he'd been drugged, there had definitely been a needle in his arm at some point, if the bruise there was anything to go by.

Something that made him black out at odd times, he'd come to, to hear them whispering about him, shadows on the walls, the shadows were whispering about him before he'd pass out again. It was not a nice experience, at all, he brought a hand up from his side, his fingers were coated in fresh blood, fresh warm blood and he found himself actually giggling at the sight. Damn whatever had been given to him, as he stumbled from the stone room, he hadn't even been chained up or anything, as though they didn't expect him to become coherent enough to move. It was going to be a tough trip back to the Stargate that much he knew and he knew he had to get back to the Gate, every instinct he had not stopped screaming at him to get back to the Gate, to get home.

Caleb caught sight of his vest sat on a table, a very wonky looking table, there was a wedge of wood under one leg as though to hold it upright, there were no weapons attached to it, but at least everything else was still there. He stumbled his way across the room using the wall as a support, blood dripping onto the floor, each drip echoing in the room and into the table, his hand crunching between his body and the hole in his side, he cursed loudly as sweat broke out on his forehead, pain raced through every nerve ending he had.

He rested his head on the table, the coolness a welcome change from the heat that seemed to be encasing his body at the moment, oh he was in so much trouble when he finally made it back to Atlantis. He just wanted to sleep, to sleep and forget the whole nightmare that was currently playing out and he didn't think he would be allowed off world for a very long time after this stint.

Caleb didn't know how or where it came from, but he once again pushed himself away from the table, half heartedly tugging the vest on with one hand – a lot more difficult than he actually thought it would be – cursing every time he had to stop to catch his breath, loosing more blood the more he moved around and he was ready to move again. Well as ready as anyone could be with a gaping hole in there side, a battered faced, a crushed hand, and if he listened to his body close enough he was sure there was a cracked rib or two rubbing together, the fire running across his side noticeable every time he moved.

* * *

Making it out of whatever place he'd actually been held, it seemed whoever had taken him had since cleared out, clearly having gotten whatever the hell they wanted off of him before leaving him for dead. He wasn't sure what was worse in that moment, the injuries he'd sustained or the fact that he had just been left to die where he was. He did momentarily consider just sitting down, just letting himself go, he hurt so much that it would be so easy just to close his eyes, go to sleep, and he found himself leaning against the nearest tree, eyes slipping closed.

That was until an image of Claire appeared in his head, her smile, the way she would just roll her eyes at him when he told her a joke, the way she knew exactly what to do to get him to smile and he found he didn't want to stop, he had to see her again. Even if that did mean he'd get his arse kicked for getting this injured, he opened his eyes again, took in a deep breath and kept moving.

Of course that didn't help the fact that every step he took seemed to send fire racing through his body, the outside was cool, cool, dull and windy, which was so nice against his face. It was like he could breath again, he rested once more against one of the nearest trees for a moment, trying to listen to see if he could hear anyone around. Yet all he could hear was a combination of the damn wildlife on the planet and his own blood rushing through his head.

He put a hand to his side again, he could feel the stickiness of blood coming through his t-shirt and jacket – he really liked the jacket -, even after he'd tightened the black vest around him tightly to try to stem some of the blood from leaving his body. Claire was so going to be pissed at him, he hefted himself away from the tree, scratching up his arm as he did, he wasn't a light weight to move around even for himself.

It seemed to take an hour or longer if the fact he had to stop to black out twice was anything to go by, before he finally reached the Stargate. It had never been a more lovely sight to see, and he felt his knees go weak at how close to home he actually was, of course as he approached the Gate he realised one thing, he needed his damn code to get through to Atlantis, so he didn't become a blob on the windscreen.

Reaching the DHD, he sat himself on the floor, or rather his legs gave out for a moment, as he used his hand to pat down the vest, pleased to note it was still there. Clearly whoever had taken him, had just wanted the weapons, he even found a power bar in one of the pockets, he had no idea how long that had been there, he didn't usually carry them around so refused to actually tuck into it, not only that but his stomach turned at the sight of food.

Resting his head back against the DHD he closed his eyes for a moment, he wanted to sleep, to relax to be back home again. He had to keep going though, had to keep moving, the top of his trousers were soaked through with blood now, all the moving around wasn't actually doing him any good but he couldn't just sit and wait to die. He wiggled himself around so he was on his knees, high enough to press the buttons on the DHD, the home address ingrained into his memory like a burn. It was the one thing that everyone was taught when they first joined, that home address, no one was allowed off world without memorising it.

Once the Gate had opened, he sighed in relief, punched in his code, whilst still sat on the floor, at least this way it as going to give the guys chance to take down the shield, he really didn't want to be a fly on a windscreen. For a moment he couldn't quite move as the blue of the wormhole its self sat there, tormenting him, he closed his eyes, his forehead falling to the DHD as he blacked out once more..

* * *

Elizabeth was tired, exhausted even as she sat at her desk trying to come up with some reasonable way to send a team back through the Gate to retrieve their missing member. But with no way of knowing where he had been taken, no team in any fit condition to actually make the trip, and no idea who had taken the Chief Petty Officer, she had, had no choice but to suspend looking for him.

It was forty eight hours later, she'd had the awful task of informing Claire that they were suspending the search, that had gone down exactly as she had predicted. It was going to be a long time before Elizabeth was able to look not only at Claire again, but herself in the mirror as well, she hated loosing any of there members, they were all one big family at the end of the day, especially the people that stayed on Atlantis permanently and everyone would do anything for anyone.

She had already had to deny the request by Williams old team to go back to the original planet he'd been taken, they were all beaten up themselves. Elizabeth pushed her hands through her hair, before closing the laptop down in front of her, she didn't think the days were going to get any easier, especially not once she had him declared dead.

Pushing up from her seat, she was going to head out to the mess maybe they would have some of that hear warming Athosian broth on the go, it always reminded her of home and she needed that remind at the moment. She had made her way into the main control room, when the Gate sprang to life, her eyes widened as everyone rushed into place, doing exactly as they'd been trained.

She heard the shield come to life as well, as the wormhole established itself, she had no teams off world, she didn't want to get her hopes up, maybe this would be the one time, someone came back.

“Dr Weir, it's Williams IDC,” someone said to the left of her.

Elizabeth had a split second of hesitation, no one knew what had happened to him, where he'd been taken and she wasn't sure if she could take that shield down. But she had no choice, they'd dealt with worse coming though the gate, they'd deal with this. She gave the order to lower the shield and waited, praying it was Williams that waltzed through the Gate unharmed.

Of course she became concerned when no one stepped through the Gate, “Medical team to the Gateroom,” he said over the city wide intercom, just literally as the horizon shimmered and Caleb Williams appeared and collapsed on there floor.

* * *

Shaking his head, Caleb woke himself back up again, home was right there, he had to move, he had to keep going. He pushed himself back to his feet, his legs feeling a bit like lead weights now, everything was beginning to hurt as he pushed himself towards that event horizon, his mind felt foggy and dizzy all at the same time and there was definitely a metallic taste in his mouth now.

But he had to make it to that damn puddle, had to step through, every step he took was like getting shot all over again, he still had no idea if the thing had gone all the way through, he just knew it hurt a hell of a lot. He almost laughed with joy as the event horizon of the Gate was there, right there, before he stepped through, he heard shouts, people almost screaming at him. It seemed he wasn't quite as alone on that planet as he had hoped he was, even as more shots seemed to be fired through the air, hopefully none actually hit him, he wasn't sure, his whole body just felt numb now as he finally stepped into the waiting puddle.

He didn't really register that was back on Atlantis, it didn't really register that he had crashed onto the hard floor, nor that there was a nice growing puddle of blood beneath him. All he knew was that he was somewhere safe, he was going to be fine, and he let himself have that sleep that he had finally wanted for so damn long.

Claire was sat in her office in the infirmary, trying to ignore the big, empty hole that was threatening to burst open inside her and swallow her whole. It had been 48 hours since Caleb's team had come through without him, 48 fraught hours in which she had waited for news from the search teams, and three hours in which Elizabeth Weir had told her that she was suspending the search.

To say that her reaction hadn't been calm or measured was an understatement, and Claire was still ashamed of herself for railing at Weir as she had. To Weir's credit, she had taken it in her stride, pulling Claire into a hug as the tears had come, the first realisations that Caleb was probably lost forever.

What was she going to do without him? He was her husband, the one man she had seen herself growing old with, spending the rest of their lives together, no matter where they had ended up. He was her best friend, her confidante, and she couldn't believe he could be gone.

Of course, it wouldn't be the first time that a search had been suspended, only for the subject of that search to turn up, and Claire found herself hanging onto that thin thread of hope, praying that Caleb was alive, and would make his way back to her. She couldn't stop hoping, couldn't stop believing. If she did, it would feel like a betrayal of the strong, resourceful man she knew Caleb to be.

She hadn't slept much since he had been declared missing, and had kept herself busy in the infirmary. However, as the hours had ticked by, and there was no sign of him, Claire had found that tiny thread of hope beginning to unravel, and it had almost snapped when Weir told her that the search was over. She still couldn't accept that he was gone, though, and, instead of allowing herself to being to grieve, Claire had gone back to the infirmary, where, after a few quiet words with Carson, she was holed up going through paperwork and some research notes.

She heard a murmuring outside in the infirmary, heard Caleb's name being bandied about, and was ready to give someone a bollocking for gossiping about him, when she caught the nature of the conversation. She dropped the file she was working on, knocking over a stale cup of coffee, and all but charged out into the infirmary, her red eyes wide and disbelieving.

"What was that," she asked Carson. "Is that Caleb's IDC come through?" Carson looked at Claire with compassion, not quite sure what to say. He sighed, giving her a sad smile. "Aye, love, it is," he said, his voice quiet, shaking his head. "But dinnae get your hopes up, lass. If someone else has his code..." He tailed off, letting Claire fill in the gaps.

She stood there for a minute or more, waiting for an update but nothing came. She was starting to think that Carson was right, and that thought brought a fresh wave of silent tears coursing down her cheeks. She had only spent a scant few months with Caleb as a couple, and to have him snatched away so suddenly was breaking her heart. She didn't think she had the strength to carry on here in Atlantis without him, where everything would be a constant reminder of their life together.

Her maudlin thoughts were interrupted by a call for a med team to the gateroom, and she looked at Carson, her green eyes red-rimmed, but with a final spark of hope there. "Please," she said, her voice soft, almost begging. She knew that, if it was Caleb who had come through, she shouldn't be allowed to treat him, but she was the best surgeon they had, and, if he was critically injured, she was the best placed to put him back together.

Carson didn't hesitate, merely nodding, before calling out orders to the assembled medics. "Come on, love, let's go," he said, setting off at a run, having taken Claire's arm, pulling her along at a run.

She didn't need encouraging, and raced off towards the gateroom, hoping - but not expecting - to see Caleb. Knowing him, if he'd made his way back, he'd be cocky as hell, boasting of his exploits. She'd kill him quietly when they were back in their quarters, but she'd forgive him anything, just to have him back.

She wasn't expecting what they found in the gateroom, though. Caleb was collapsed on the floor, just inside the gate, blood pooling on the floor beneath him. For a moment, Claire froze, horrified at the state her husband was in, but only for a moment. Her instincts and medical training kicked in, and she raced to Caleb's side, quickly finding a pulse - weak, bet steady - and she quickly opened Caleb's eyes one at a time, flashing a pen light in, and getting the reaction she was praying for.

Swallowing down a ball of emotion and relief, she turned back to the assembled medical team. "Get him on the gurney, down to resus," she ordered, before turning back to Caleb. "Caleb, it's Claire. Your back in Atlantis, you're safe." She slid her hand into his. "If you can hear me, squeeze my hand, okay, e ipo?"

And she waited...

The journey he had taken from the building he'd half woken up in, to the Stargate on the planet, back through to Atlantis had meant that he'd slipped in and out of consciousness several times as he'd moved. His whole body had wanted to stop moving, to just rest just for one more minute, but he had stubbornly, determinedly refused to give in to what his body wanted, he had to keep moving, to get home. To get to Claire.

So when he finally fell unconscious in the Gateroom he didn't think he was going to be waking up until at least they had patched him up, taken the damn pain away and he was floating on cloud nine. That actually wasn't the case and he envied anyone that did get to do that, no instead he hit the hard floor the Gateroom, the noises around him muffled as he did slip unconscious for a moment or two.

That was until he heard a voice, a voice that was so damn close it was like he was being shouted at, before he found himself moving, without actually giving his body the command to do so. Pain, white hot pain, moved throughout ever nerve ending he had as he was moved, he let out a very audible groan of pain, even if he couldn't make out who was talking or what was happening.

All he knew was that everything hurt, his stomach tightened as it caused a wave of nausea to wash over him, damn this was the most damage he had ever sustained doing anything with his job. Then there was a flash of light, once, twice before it was gone, almost waking him up some more, enough so that even though every piece of clothing was sticking to his side, his chest felt like there was an elephant sat on it, he still opened his eyes.

Seeing Claire stood over him, for a second before letting his eyes slip closed again. He couldn't form any words, his throat was too dry, his body in too much pain, but it was as though he knew that he was home in that moment, he heard Claire's question, as though it was the clearest thing he'd heard since...well since whenever he'd been shot.

He felt the warm hand against his icy cold ones, felt the squeeze, and knew what she wanted, he returned the squeeze of her hand, as strong as he could, which was probably a lot weaker than he'd have liked. Damn he'd actually managed it, managed to get home, that was until the pain in his chest started hurting more and he started coughing, almost raising himself painfully off the moving gurney as they racked his body.

The blackness creeping up once more on him, he welcome it with open arms this time, maybe next time he awoke he'd be patched up and in no more pain. Hopefully.

She couldn't believe it. Claire had dared to hope over the last couple of days, but that hope had dimmed since Elizabeth had suspended the search. But however she had imagined Caleb's return, it hadn't been this. Battered, bleeding, barely alive, he had clearly been put through the wringer. As a doctor, Claire knew what she needed to do, and she would do it to the best of her abilities. But as a wife, her mind was swirling around a million possibilities.

How would they get through this? What if some of Caleb's injuries were not only life threatening, but life changing? How would they manage on Atlantis if they needed medical support or specialist care?

All of this ran through her mind as the team lifted him onto the gurney, and Claire noted the wince of pain. "Easy, sailor," she murmured, even as she slipped her hand into his. His fingers were ice cold, and Claire glanced at the puddle of blood that had been left on the floor where Caleb had been lying. There was a lot of blood. "Call down to the infirmary, get four units of O neg ready, and crossmatch another four units of..." Her brain cut out for a moment, not able to remember Caleb's blood group.

Carson cut in. "Claire, the O neg's enough for now, love, let's just get him down there." His voice was gentle, soothing: he could see his deputy was struggling, in pain, and part of him wanted to treat her just like any other relative, but he also knew she was the best surgeon they had, and she'd be needed to help patch Caleb up.

Claire took a sharp breath in as Caleb's frozen hand squeezed hers. It wasn't very tight, but it was a squeeze nonetheless. She dashed tears from her eyes as the gurney started moving. "Don't worry, Caleb, we're going to take care of you," she said, her voice firm and resolute, even as Caleb's body was racked with coughs.

The gurney was moving fast, and Claire used a tried and tested ED trick: she climbed onto the gurney, straddling Caleb's knees, pulling a pair of scissors from her pocket and slicing Caleb's t-shirt up the front. There was a ragged wound in his right hand side, the edges inflamed and showing signs of turning black, and she had to bite back horror at what had been done to her husband. Dark bruises peppered his chest, and Claire gently palpated over his ribs, expecting to find at least one broken. If it was just the wound and the ribs, they might be lucky, he could be up and around in a few days.

In what felt like seconds, they were in the resuscitation bay in the infirmary, and Claire hopped down from the gurney. "Be careful when moving him, we don't know the extent of his injuries yet," she called out, reaching for a fresh pair of gloves. Once again, she reached for Caleb's eyes, flashing the penlight in each, getting the same strong response she had before. No head injury, at least.

"Caleb, it's Claire," she said, very much in work mode now. "You're in the infirmary in Atlantis. We're going to get you sorted out, but we're going to put you to sleep so it doesn't hurt too much, okay?" She glanced across at the anaesthetist, nodding. "Put him under, then let's get the scanner on him, see if we can figure out what we're dealing with here."

Caleb half expected his body to flood with pain as he realised he was waking up, it was a slow process, almost as though everything was coming back online at a snails pace. The first thing he was aware of, was actually knowing he was awake, like his mind had was awake but the rest of his body was still taking a deep sleep. He couldn't quite open his eyes, they felt almost glued shut, like there was some weights holding them closed, no matter how hard he tried in that moment in time, he couldn't open them.

The next thing he was aware of, was that his body didn't feel attached to his head, there should have been pain, he should have been screaming bloody murder by now, but all he felt was number, which made him want to frown. He tried shifting, just an inch of so, just to make sure he hadn't actually been detached from his body, he really liked his body, he didn't want to leave it behind, he wanted to take the thing with him.

That was when he realised how muddled his mind felt, it was almost like it he was swimming trying to get to the surface with no luck at all. He felt slow, stuck in mud, but hey at least there was nothing there hurt any more, he just again hoped his body was still attached to him. He really wanted his body to still be attached, damn doctors trying to detached his body.

He wanted to laugh at his own thoughts, doctors and there pointy objects had managed to detached his body, well there was at least one doctor he knew who could do that; Claire. Claire, the thought of Claire seemed to spark him more awake, he had to get back to her, had to get home, he was sure he'd made it home, had seen the Stargate, had stepped through that bright shimmering puddle but what if it had all been a dream? An illusion his mind had come up with to help him cope with whatever the hell had happened to him and his poor body.

Panic coursed through him, a loud beeping starting to penetrate his thoughts, as finally, finally he managed to move his arm up to his face, damn they'd put something on his face, something plastic, it was attached to his face. Damn what the hell had been done to him? First his body, now his damn face, as he pushed the thing away, taking a deep breath as he did so, as though breathing for the first time on his own.

His eyes finally opened, bright lights above him had him closing them again just as quickly, the noises were so loud now, as though everything was just right next to him, everything was basically coming back to full awareness – except his damn body which was still numb – as he realised that he hadn't made the whole thing up in his head. He had made it back to Atlantis, had made it home, a bubble of relief burst in his chest, if he made it home, then he'd made it to Claire. He could officially get his arse kicked for being gone for so long now.

“'Laire,” he said, voice breaking with the dryness. “No 'ointy 'jects.” he was trying to say 'no pointy objects' something he knew would let her know that he was okay, if a bit confused at the moment. The upside he wasn't in any more pain, all pain was gone.

It had been a long, drawn out surgery for Caleb. Over six hours on the operating table, with both Claire and Carson working on him, repairing the extensive damage done by the bullet - a bullet which looked as though it had come from a Genii weapon, unless she was very much mistaken - as well as realigning three broken ribs and repairing a punctured lung, and Claire had felt more than a little drained.

She knew that it would be a few hours until Caleb woke up from the anaesthetic, as well as the painkillers that he had been given, and Claire had planned to make use of those hours by working to keep her mind off things. Carson, however, had other plans, and had shooed her from the office, refusing to let her sign on for a shift, and had tried to force her to go home for some rest.

Claire, stubborn as ever, had flat out refused to go home, and, instead, had taken up residence in a chair beside Caleb's bed. Despite trying to stay awake so that she would be there when he came round from the anaesthetic, sleep got the better of her, and she drifted off into a disturbed slumber. Her dreams were filled with images of Caleb being beaten and tortured, and, more than once, she awoke with a cry on her lips and tears streaking her face. Someone had placed a blanket over her as she had slept, and she had pulled it more tightly around herself as she drifted off once more.

She didn't know how long she had slept in all, but a quiet voice - dry, scratchy, but familiar - broke through her tortured sleep, and her eyes fluttered open. "Caleb," she asked, scrubbing sleep out of her eyes, even as she rose to sit on the edge of the bed. He had pulled the oxygen tube out of his nose, and, even now, was scrabbling at his face. she couldn't help a choked laugh as his slurred voice tried to tell her no more pointy objects.

"Caleb, it's Claire," she said, barely even registering the tears of relief slaking down her cheeks. "You're in the infirmary." She took the oxygen tube and pushed it gently back into place. "You have to leave that in, e taku tahu. It's helping you to breathe for now." Taking his right hand in hers - the left had an IV drip in it - Claire squeezed, feeling a warmth that hadn't been there when they had recovered him from the gateroom. "Can you feel that, e ipo?" She was hoping that he'd feel at least a little pressure, indicating that the last of the anaesthetic was wearing off.

Caleb felt himself frowning as someone replaced the thing on his face, he really didn't want it there, it made his face feel itchy, made him want to sneeze. He tried to bring his hand up again but it was grabbed for a split second he thought it was the people that had done this to him and he tensed up, that was until he heard Claire's voice.

He remembered he had told her no pointy objects a moment ago, remembered then that he was back on Atlantis, that nothing else was going to be hurting him now, at least nothing with malicious intentions anyway. There was no way this nice sort of detached feeling from his body was likely to last.

Blinking open his eyes again, this time a bit slower so he didn't end up blinding himself with the infirmary lights, he saw Claire above him, talking to him, well he assumed she was talking to him, her lips were at least moving. His head hadn't actually caught up with 'being awake' at the moment, so it seemed to take him a lot longer than usual to hear what she was saying.

He squeezed her hand back, that seemed to be the easiest method of communicating at the moment, before he closed his eyes for again for a moment. The tube in his nose wasn't going to let him rest though, and he remembered he had another hand, a hand that wasn't being held in a tight grip.

Left hand raised he tried to pull at the tube again, except his hand didn't make it all the way up, as something seemed to be stuck to the back of the thing. He let his head roll to the left, to look at his hand, there was definitely something stuck in there, hadn't he just said no pointy objects and there she was having stuck him with a pointy object.

He flexed the hand with the IV in, fingers almost tingling at the needle pulled tight against his skin, before letting his arm drop back down. His limbs kind of felt heavy, like he had done three rounds of sparring with someone ten times his size, of course he probably looked like he had done that as well.

Rolling his head back to face Claire, he smiled at her, “Claire,” he said, as though that one word gave him strength to actually stay awake longer for her. He had expected her to be smiling at him, not the tired, red and blotchy eye look he did see before him. Damn he had managed to cause himself and her pain, pulling his hand free, after much tugging he raised it to the side of her face.

“Sorry,” he said, before giving in the urge to cough to clear his throat, his arm dropping to lay across his stomach as he finally felt something. Sharpe digging pain in his side, but it subsided as soon as his body stopped moving violently. “Drink?”

Caleb had no idea how long he'd been out, or even what day it was currently, but he was happy to be awake, even if it wasn't going to be for that much longer. He also realised he hadn't actually answered Claire's question, had he felt her squeezing his hand, that had been ages ago now hadn't it? Time seemed to be a funny thing at the moment.

“Felt it,” he answered simply. He might not be answering in full sentences at the moment, but every ounce of energy he did have was keeping him awake, making sure he could see Claire.

Because although he knew he was on Atlantis, knew that he was safe, there was a tiny part of him that wasn't sure if the Genii had come up with a new way of torturing him and had given him something to hallucinate the whole damn thing. He wouldn't put it past them that was for sure. So he wanted to stay awake, had to stay awake, had to make sure.

“What...what 'appened?”

Claire was torn. As a doctor, she knew that Caleb coming round from the anaesthetic was just the first step in a long recovery process. He had sustained a number of serious injuries, as well as some bruising and superficial cuts, and, even with the escalated healing offered by the Ancient devices in the infirmary, he was going to be out of action for a week or so, with at least a day or two in the infirmary before he could come home.

As a wife, however, she was just relieved that he was back, he was safe, and he was beginning to heal. That part of her just wanted to crawl onto the bed beside him and hold him, never let him go again. That side of her was the dominant one at the moment, even as the doctor side kicked in, hitting the call button behind the bed, the button which would summon Carson and a gaggle of nurses to Caleb's bed to give him a check over now that he was awake. The wife side of her wished that she hadn't had to do that, and could have spent a few minutes with Caleb alone, but that just wasn't possible.

Still, they might have a minute or two before Carson and his team descended, and Claire leaned over, kissing Caleb's forehead. "Welcome back, e te tau," she murmured, letting her lips rest there for just a second, even as the hand she was holding squeezed back, and Caleb reached for the nasal tube for his other hand. "Please, Caleb, leave it in, at least for now," she soothed. "You can have it out soon enough." That was more than could be said for the chest drain for his punctured lung, and the blood transfusion slowly dripping its way into his body. That would be a couple of days, at least.

Fresh tears ripped from Claire's eyes as Caleb smiled up at her, a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless, and she placed her hand over his as it rested on her face. "You have nothing to be sorry about," she said, her voice choked with emotion. It was wrong that the first thing he was doing was apologising. She was just so grateful to have him back, more or less in one piece.

He started coughing as soon as he got the apology out, and Claire looked at him with concern as he asked for a drink. "Soon, e ipo, just as soon as Carson gives you the go ahead. He's on his way." She could hear the commotion at the other end of the infirmary, and knew they didn't have long. She smiled fondly, despite the tired eyes and blotchy face, as he told her he had felt her hand squeezing his. "What am I ever going to do with you, eh?"

Carson interrupted all too soon, just as Caleb asked what happened. "That's what we were hoping you were going to tell us, lad," he asked, casting a glance to Claire. She gave him a tiny nod and a smile as she settled back in the chair beside the bed. "How are you feeling, Caleb," asked Carson. "Where does it hurt?"

It almost too much for him to Claire kiss his forehead, he had spent the last god knows how many hours not believing he'd actually get to see her, speak to her, let along actually have her kiss him again. He closed his eyes against the feel of her lips against his skin, if nothing else that made the sensation of the whole thing being an hallucination a lot less, there was no way this very moment wasn't real. There was no way he was still in that stone building by himself, he was actually very much firmly home.

Opening his eyes again, he finally stopped trying to pull the oxygen thing out of his nose, even if it was still making his face itch, he'd do it for now. If it meant he could have the thing out of his nose sooner, he'd stop trying to pull it out for now.

He nodded his head very carefully as Claire told him he had nothing to be sorry for, he knew that, he knew he didn't need to apologise but he still found himself doing so. His mind wasn't quite really with it, he knew he didn't need to offer her the apology, but had offered it anyway, almost like him being this sick, this injured was going to be an inconvenience. He hated being an inconvenience, hated being sick more and had no doubt in his mind that this wasn't going to be easy to bounce back from.

“Could lock me up,” he said, voice still very scratchy, but at least sentences were becoming a bit easier, “keep me outta trouble,” actually the thought of spending time away from anything dangerous sounded quite appealing at the moment.

The sound of people starting to rush towards his bed was almost as ominous as having being left alone in that damn shed. He was going to call it a shed, it had looked like a shed, had smelt well...less like a shed, but he was going to title it a shed. Caleb tried to push the random thoughts away, whatever the infirmary staff had pumped him full of, had messed with his thoughts they kept trailing off in odd ways.

As people all but swarmed around his bed, bees the damn doctors were like bees all buzzing away talking to each other, as Claire moved away from him. He held onto her hand tighter, he knew she wouldn't be going far, knew that no one would be able to his move his wife from that chair, but part of him still kind of had a small moment of panic as she left his line of sight. He wasn't very much up to moving his head to track her at the moment.

It wasn't until Beckett came into his line of sight that he remembered the doctor had asked him a question, but he wasn't quite sure of the answer, he knew he should be in some pain, it should hurt somewhere on his body but despite the pressure in his hand. Not just the one he was currently clutching at Claire with, put the one that had the IV in as well, he didn't feel too much, of course that might be because he hadn't actually looked at the rest of his body yet. He found that looking at his body made his mind start processing again, made things start hurting, he'd hurt enough the last however long it had been, he didn't want to hurt any more.

“Thirsty,” he finally answered, “No pain, give good drugs doctor,” he smiled at him, “Claire give good drugs as well.”

As though he need to make sure that Beckett knew Claire was the best damn doctor there, next to Beckett himself. Of course at that moment one of the nurses decided to check at his side, just under his arm, up near his chest, he frowned, he hadn't been shot there. Hadn't hurt himself there, there should definitely be no wound there, he tried to move himself upwards what the hell was the nurse looking at?

“Ah don't move, lad,” Beckett said, putting a hand on Caleb's shoulder, to stop him from moving, “We had to place a chest drain, just to help your lung heal,”

Caleb shook his head, “Genii only shot me, not..” he tried to gesture to the tube sticking out his side, he hadn't really thought about the repercussions of the actual beatings he'd taken.

Even as his mind flashed back to that moment, he was stuck there, there were arms, legs everyone was hitting him with everything they could get their hands on. He'd already been shot by this point, weakened already, he had barely gotten any decent punches in of his own.

Caleb pulled his shoulder free of Beckett's grip, there was no way he was this damaged, he had never been this damaged before, he wasn't in control, the drugs made his mind foggy, as he tried to forceably remove the oxygen tube again. He wanted out, this had to be some kind of mistake, he couldn't be this badly hurt, no one had come back this badly hurt before.

Claire felt Caleb relax at the touch of her lips on his forehead, and he stopped scrabbling at the nasal tube. Her heart broke at the sight of him so beaten and battered, but she couldn't show it. She had to be the strong one now, to be there for him, make sure he had everything he needed. However, that also meant that she needed to make sure that he didn't do anything that might hurt himself even more.

And that was where the lines between being Caleb's wife and a doctor started to become a little fuzzy. Claire had literally been up to her wrists in his guts as she helped to put him back together, and that was a strange parallel to the life she knew as his wife. Had they been on earth, she would never have been allowed near him as he had been operated on, but the truth was that she was the best surgeon in the city. There was no way that the operation would have been as successful without her involvement, but now it meant that she had a dual role in his care, and it wasn't going to be so easy to separate them.

"Kei te aroha au i a koe, e ipo," murmured Claire, the hand that wasn't clutching Caleb's reaching up and dashing the tears from her face. He didn't need to see her like this. He needed her strong, the woman hew knew was able to take everything in her stride. In that moment, though, she felt vulnerable, and she had now idea how she was going to be what Caleb needed. She had no idea whether she was strong enough.

"Don't you ever apologise, you hear me," Claire said, her voice soft and firm. "Whichever bastards did this to you, we'll find them, you hear me?" Now that Caleb was home safe and recovering, she knew that Elizabeth wouldn't let this go unchallenged. All they needed was for Caleb to confirm who it was who had done this to him, and action would be taken. She had had a brief conversation with Weir while Caleb was unconscious after the operation, and she was in no doubt that the woman wasn't about to let the abduction and torture of one of her men go unanswered.

Claire let out a short laugh as Caleb suggested she lock him up to keep him out of trouble. "Not going to be locking you up, e te tau," she replied, her voice tired but amused. "And I'm not sure even that would keep you out of trouble."

Claire felt Caleb tense up as the noise from Carson and his team approached, and she returned the pressure on his hand. "Don't worry, it's only Carson," she soothed, not really wanting to leave his bed, but knowing she needed to move back to the chair while Carson and the nurses examined him. She moved the chair forward so that Caleb's arm wouldn't be at an awkward angle, just as Carson and two nurses bustled around the corner. She could feel him start to get agitated as the nurses started to check him over, taking vital signs, and she squeezed his hand again. "Don't worry, I'm here," she said, her voice soft. "Nobody's going to hurt you any more."

Carson glanced up, smiling, as Caleb announced he was thirsty. "We'll get you some ice chips in a moment, lad," he said, making some notes on the chart. He looked up again, the smile wider, as Caleb announced he was in no pain. "That's good."

Claire's eyes widened as Caleb confirmed it was the Genii who had held him, tortured him, and left him to die. Her expression hardened for a moment, before she took a breath to compose herself. Vengeance might be on her mind, but it wouldn't do Caleb any good. She just needed to be there, to be strong, and to take whatever she needed to from Caleb.

However, then Carson explained about the chest drain, and Caleb seemed to panic. Claire rose from her chair, leaning over him, her free hand lightly on his shoulder, locking her eyes with his. "It's okay, [i]e ipo[i], it's okay," she soothed. Nobody's going to hurt you. You've got a couple of broken ribs as well as the gunshot wound, and one of them punctured your lung. We just need to make sure that no clots develop, and the drain will help prevent that, okay?" It felt strange, talking to him about medical issues. Still, he seemed to listen to her, and that was important.

Carson watched as his deputy kept her partner calm, pausing from making his notes. "Caleb, as well as the gunshot wound, lad, and the ribs, it looks like you were badly beaten," he explained his voice soft. "Can you explain what happened? What did the Genii do to you?" He knew this might be hard for Caleb to explain, and hard for Claire to hear, as his partner, but, as medical professionals, they needed to know in order to give him the most effective treatment for his injuries.