Segment Title: 01 Gauisus Casualis (serendipity)
Series: Clava Thessara Infinitas (key to infinite treasure)
Upcoming Segments: 02 Clava Atlantis
Author: §fyre aka pfyre
Summary: What if Major Sheppard had had a little more time to learn about the Ancient technology before they headed through the Stargate?
Webpage: pfyre dot livejournal dot com
Genre/Category: Stargate: Atlantis, angst, hurt/comfort, whumpage
Character(s): John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Elizabeth Weir, Carson Beckett, Marshall Sumner...
Pairing: none so far
Rating: M (language)
Spoilers: 1.01
Word count: 13000
Status: Segment complete. Series WIP.
Warnings: none really
Disclaimer: "Stargate: Atlantis" and its characters and situations are the creative and intellectual properties of Robert C. Cooper, Joseph Mallozzi, Paul Mullie, Sony Pictures Television, Acme Shark, MGM Television, Pegasus Productions. This fiction was written solely for the entertainment of Stargate: Atlantis, John Sheppard whumpers and Joe Flanigan fans. No monies made. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: What if Major Sheppard had had a little more time to learn about the Ancient technology before they headed through the Stargate?
Beta: Gayle - betareader extraordinaire - Many, many thanks to Gayle. She is my PiaP. She's also been dragged into fandoms I'm certain she never would've touched if it weren't for me. Thankfully she usually forgives me and even does a bang up job making my attempts at writing sound coherent, intelligent - even literate. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
A/N: May I say this was quite a surprise to me? There I was minding my own business a few months ago and somehow I managed to blundered into an episode of "Stargate: Atlantis" - not even a full episode mind you, but about half-way through the second part of 'Rising'. But I managed to see enough of Joe Flanigan's John Sheppard that I had to see more. I found a copy of the full pilot and had seriously fallen for "John Sheppard" by the time he said, "Did I do that?" Mind you, I've been in fandom and fanfiction for more years than I care to keep tally of and online well before it became the way to keep up and share the goodness. So of course I had to go and dig up fanfic featuring John Sheppard and discovered to my great delight that hurt/comfort or whumpage is almost a requirement when Sheppard fic is written. Did I mention I've been a hurt/comfort fan since grade school - long before I even knew what it was termed?
Sooo I've been watching Stargate: Atlantis at any and every opportunity and reading as much as I can get my greedy hands on and one day I leave a feedback for a fanfic I particularly enjoyed and suddenly the muse gets bitten by a plot bunny. I learned the hard way long ago, that if the muse wants to write I have no choice in the matter. What you have before you is quite a surprise even to me. I had thought it was going to start a bit farther along. But this is what was insisted upon by the muse and there was no arguing with it. To top things off the muse actually helped with the title (giving me a bit of a panic attack when I discovered it was working towards multiple installments in a series) - usually I'm left dangling and have no clue what to name the muse's creations. Let's move on, shall we...
Feedback: Feedback is greatly encouraged. Flames will be ignored.
ooOoo
Clava Thessara Infinitas (key to infinite treasure)
01 Gauisus Casualis (serendipity)
ooOoo
He bit back a moan as he shifted to pull his wrist out from under his pillow. Even squinting, the digital read out remained fuzzy as he fumbled to silence the alarm. The headache was also particularly bad this morning. The four hours of sleep he had managed to squeeze in had done nothing to abate the throbbing that had taken up residence in his skull.
Pulling in a deep breath, he released it as he swung his legs off the bunk and sat up. His toes contracted in his socks as the cold of the cement floor bled through to his feet. A hot shower should help. Yeah... right. Two minutes later the spray of hot water pounded on his neck and shoulders as he slowly soaped up a washcloth. He sighed as his body worked on auto-pilot as he washed. The heat of the water gradually eased the tension in his neck and soothed some of the aches, but it seemed the headache was not about to give up so easily.
The cool air as he stepped out of the shower triggered a shiver to travel up his spine and he gritted his teeth as the pain in his head started pounding even more fiercely. He dressed quickly with a minimum fuss and movement and came to the realization that he would have to stop at the infirmary for some sort of analgesic. There was no way he could even eat with his head feeling this way and he knew he would need to. Today promised to be even busier than the day before as Zero Hour drew closer for their departure to the Pegasus Galaxy. Somehow he did not think Dr. Weir ("please call me Elizabeth") would appreciate it if he passed out because of lack of food or the dizziness that would sometimes accompany a migraine. Besides, he was fairly certain that he had managed to forget dinner the previous evening.
Despite the early hour the corridors were filled with activity and materials packed and temporarily stored. John threaded his way to the infirmary hoping that Carson Beckett would be busy supervising last minute details for the medical team. Beckett had already read the riot act to Dr. McKay ("you can call me Doctor or McKay" yet somehow before he knew it John was calling the man Rodney more times than not) and himself because they had worked too many hours straight on the Chair before everyone had had to depart Antarctica nearly three weeks ago for the warmer climes around the world. Expedition members were to have two weeks leave before reporting to SGC Headquarters under Cheyenne Mountain one week before Departure Day.
He knew that most of the members had gone home to family and friends to spend some time before saying good-bye for no one knew how long. John had gone to San Francisco, as good a place as any to kill some time before he was scheduled to depart. There was every possibility that the trip to the Pegasus Galaxy (and didn't that just sound all weird and wrong to the special ops pilot who up until only a few months ago had not even known that nearly instantaneous travel within his galaxy was even possible much less to another galaxy much further away) would be a one way trip with no return possible. After a few days of riding the cable cars, visiting Fisherman's Warf and Chinatown though he was bored and antsy, so after flipping a coin, he decided to head to Colorado early.
The standard military accommodations in the SGC were all filled so he had been given one of the smaller quarters set aside for the Atlantis Expedition. Not unexpectedly there were already a large number of the expedition members already ensconced within the heart of the mountain. Everyone was working feverishly to check, double and triple check materials and plans for their areas to try to prepare for every contingency. Even with the months of prep time, it seemed that as the deadline approached there was still a rush to do things that just had not been taken care of already.
McKay had apparently spotted John before he had reached his assigned quarters and before John had time to set his bags on his bed the man had dragged him into testing and analyzing more Ancient devices. While working with the gadgets was beyond interesting, even exhilarating at odd moments, it was also exhausting. Well, he was getting better at it; it seemed to take a bit longer for the concentration to convert itself into exhaustion and nearly migraine level headaches. The work also had the beneficial side effect of keeping John out of sight of the newly appointed Military Commander of the Atlantis Expedition.
Colonel Marshall Sumner was far less than pleased to be saddled with a maverick USAF pilot with a black-mark on his service record for disobeying a direct order. If he had had his way, Major John Sheppard would be back in Antarctica playing flying VIP taxi driver before the ink dried on the confirmation orders. Sumner had been quite firm and loud in his attempt to sway Dr. Weir's decision to include Sheppard. In the end, Dr. Weir merely pointed out that Major Sheppard had been reassigned to the Atlantis Project as her military adjunct, reporting directly to her. Sheppard had to admit that Dr. Weir definitely seemed to be someone he could respect and count on in a pinch. The only downside was that at Dr. Weir's discretion or if circumstances clearly warranted it, John would work with the marine unit under Sumner's command. Oh, joy. Oh, rapture.
Word had filtered through the ranks though, so on the off moments when he and McKay had ducked into the commissary to grab something to eat and a couple of quart sized mugs of coffee the tension was very nearly palpable whenever one or more of Sumner's people were present. John expected McKay to ask why so many of the military contingent reverted to Neanderthal behavior; jostling him, standing in his way, making rude, nasty comments supposedly behind his back during those times. But Rodney either did not care or was genuinely oblivious to the drama playing out around him.
As for Dr. Rodney McKay, John had never met someone like him before. That the Canadian born astrophysicist was a genius (something he proudly proclaimed at any given opportunity) was not to be doubted. But the man had less social skills than the average preteen. He had the infuriating habit of speaking at top speed and interrupting people... constantly. Yet beneath the puffed up exterior John had found a wickedly dry wit, someone who could quote pop culture movie dialogue with ease and a man he suspected was far more insecure than he would ever want the world to know. Somehow John found he liked the Canadian scientist; enjoyed his company far more than even he wanted to admit. Even if for the moment it meant that John's days were overlong and ended with crawling into bed as migraines threatened to blind him.
It was relatively quiet in the infirmary when John stepped in and glanced around. "Major Sheppard, what can we do for you?" Dr. Lam looked up from the file she had been updating.
"I was hoping to snag a couple of aspirin for a headache." Not for the first time did John silently curse that it was against policy for military personnel to self-medicate. Of course that had not stopped him (or probably more than half the personnel on any military base) from having a bottle of analgesics (in his case ibuprofen) stashed in his gear. Unfortunately in the time since he had arrived at Cheyenne the contents of the bottle had diminished to nothing as of the day before. He had not thought it out that he probably should have stocked up a private stash for the coming weeks or months in another galaxy without a Walgreens nearby.
"Feeling the stress are we?" Dr. Lam waved him over to an exam bed and indicated he should take a seat.
"Just a bit." Admit to as little as possible was one of his mottos. No way would he let on just how bad the migraine had gotten and, instead, he plastered on what he hoped was a not too fake smile. His pain tolerance was high; he could do this.
"Well let's just do a quick check, shall we." Dr. Lam retrieved a penlight from her pocket and clicked it on directly in John's left eye.
He tried not to flinch; he really did. "Whoa, Doc!"
"Some light sensitivity..." Dr. Lam shifted the light directly into John's right eye. He definitely flinched as the ache was stronger on that side.
John found himself blinking and seeing spots for a moment as the doctor moved to place a stethoscope on his chest. The cold metal made him want to cringe again, but he managed to stop the reaction. He was beginning to think this was perhaps a bad idea when he heard a familiar brogue.
"So, Major, decided ta pay us a visit?"
"Just wanted to get a couple of aspirin from the doc." He shrugged casually as he pushed up his sleeve to allow Dr. Lam to wrap a blood pressure cuff around his upper arm. "Didn't think it would be such a big deal."
"Standard procedure, ye should know that by now, Major." John's attention was momentarily diverted as Dr. Lam readjusted the cuff. "So has Rodney been drivin' ye 'n yer Ancient gene mad yet?"
"'Sokay." John tried to get a glimpse of the readings as Lam pumped up the cuff. "I think we've only a few... hundred or so Ancient devices left to check out before departure." He could not quite stop the wince as his headache spiked up a notch as the pressure increased on his arm. Abruptly Beckett was standing in front of him peering closely at his face and eyes.
"Major, how many hours a day are ye 'n Rodney spendin' on his precious Ancient widgets?" Before John could move Beckett shone a penlight in his eyes, blinding him even as he snapped them closed.
"Doc!" He frowned and squinted at the Scottish doctor. "Already been done." John nodded towards Dr. Lam and winced again as the nod did nothing to temper the pain in his head. "And ummm..." He closed his eyes as he tried to recall just how long they were at it the day before. The days had started to blur as work with McKay engulfed him.
"Ummm... maybe five or six... most days." Truthfully, he knew it was way more than that but he had felt rather out of the loop, a last minute add-on simply because by chance or fate he possessed the Ancient gene to such a high degree. Sure, he was Weir's military adjunct but until they were in the Pegasus galaxy he had no real duties. Dr. Weir's time was filled with the last minute details of questions and reports and meetings piling up and she had seemed pleased that he had found something to keep himself occupied. And he needed to feel like he was contributing more to the expedition than simply waiting to turn things on and off once they were in Atlantis. Since contributing in a direct military manner was mostly out because of Sumner, he figured it could not hurt to learn a bit more about the Ancient technology they were going to be encountering and working with McKay was his best bet to learn. He could put his test pilot instincts to use investigating alien tech.
"Major?" John, his eyes still closed, was concentrating on willing his head to not explode as the pain continued to throb. He jerked upright at an unexpected touch to his shoulder. "Major Sheppard!" Unaware that he had been listing to the side, he opened his eyes to find the world too bright and starting to spin as well. Only the doctor's quick reflexes saved John from toppling backward and probably ending up in a heap on the hard floor. "Laddie?..."
"Not feelin' so good, Doc..."
Fortunately someone thrust something under his chin before his stomach tried to eject itself from his body. Unfortunately there had been little in his stomach besides bile and the dry heaves left him moaning in pain as his aching stomach and throat vied with his head for attention. He felt shaky and weak as gentle but strong hands kept him steady until the bout passed and he found himself being carefully shifted to lie down on the exam table. The world greyed out and then a comforting blackness surrounded him.
ooOoo
"Dr. Weir?"
Elizabeth frowned as a voice penetrated her concentration. She tapped her earpiece. "Yes?"
"Elizabeth, if ye can spare a wee moment I need ta see ye in the infirmary, please." She frowned again as she easily recognized the Scotsman's voice. With so many things happening, with so much information needing to be conveyed and relayed quickly, the SGC had allowed them to go up on their voice network while still Earthside so that the Atlantis team members could communicate more quickly since they were spread over so many different levels under the mountain. She knew that Beckett was not one to cry wolf, but there was still so much to do.
"Of course, Carson." She finished signing a report and handed it to the airman waiting next to her. "Is it an emergency or can you give me a half hour?" She sighed as she looked at the stack of messages in the URGENT pile; it seemed to grow every time she looked at it.
"It's nowt an emergency, but tis verra importan'." Elizabeth paused as she sorted through the stack. "It concerns a cert'n pilot wit' a special talent."
That brought her to her feet. "I'm on my way, Carson." She did not ask for more details. Team members possessing the Ancient gene were a precious resource and Major John Sheppard possessed the gene to such a high degree and had an almost ridiculously easy affinity for using it that it seemed he only had to be close proximity to Ancient tech for it to respond to him. No one before him had managed such a feat, not even General O'Neill, and unfortunately they had not added any new members with the gene in the four months since John's accidental activation of the Chair in Antarctica.
Elizabeth waited impatiently for the elevator to arrive as personnel moved around her. She shook her head. Was it only a few months ago that Major John Sheppard all but dropped into their laps?
ooOoo
She had fully intended to learn more about John Sheppard, USAF Major beyond what was written in his file in the months before the final transfer to the SGC headquarters in Colorado before Departure, but there was just so much to do and so many demands on her time. It had taken surprisingly little effort to convince General O'Neill of the Atlantis Expedition's urgent need of Major Sheppard's presence and even if she had been unable to persuade the major himself, whatever Jack O'Neill had done on his return flight to McMurdo it must have been enough. By 1800 hours that evening, she had the paperwork on her desk re-assigning Sheppard to the expedition and under her auspices. The major had arrived the following morning, a passenger this time on the supply copter, with his gear and before the man had time to even find his quarters Rodney had commandeered him into sitting once again in the Chair. She shuddered to think what would have happened if John Sheppard had not been as superb a pilot as he had proven. If the drone unintentionally launched by Carson Beckett had done its job and taken out the closest aerial target... They would have lost the two people with the best ability to use the Ancient gene. While O'Neill's ability had far outshone Carson Beckett's efforts, Sheppard made everyone else look like they were mere apes still trying to decide to walk up right while he ran circles around them and danced waltzes with seemingly so little effort...
Not quite certain what to expect of the pilot with the rep for disobeying orders, she had been pleasantly surprised to find a man of surprising intelligence, wit and charm. Sheppard had taken to 'testing' the Chair with Rodney and his colleagues with enthusiasm and diligence. Sometimes too much diligence as within five days of his arrival the major had passed out in the middle of a Chair session. Elizabeth's heart had stuttered when he had heard over the Outpost communications system a call for an emergency medical team to the Chair platform. She had hurried to the platform to find the medics gently easing an unconscious Sheppard onto a gurney from a darkened Chair. The man's face was pasty grey and almost gaunt.
"...How should I know? You know I'm not into your voodoo, Carson." Rodney answered the doctor and then fired off a description of what happened that day or at least what his perception of what happened as Dr. Beckett checked the major's pulse and and respiration as they moved quickly to the infirmary. "Woke up early and grabbed a couple of bagels, a glazed donut and a banana along with two cups of coffee and headed to the platform. I was just finishing my first cup of coffee when the major arrived. He didn't say much, just mumbled something about a little headache and then said he was 'good to go'." The scientist paused as they arrived in the infirmary and quick work was made of transferring the unconscious man to the exam table. Elizabeth frowned as even to her untrained eye it appeared that the man had lost weight as his clothing seemed at least a size too large for him.
"Anyway we got down to work." Even as Rodney continued his litany, Carson and his team had attached a heart monitor to the major, taken blood samples and continued their evaluation. "Grodin and I were having the major bring up to subroutines that check the weapons status and he seemed to have trouble maintaining his focus. Most unusual really as Sheppard seems to be able to do these things with a mere idle thought, but the read outs kept flickering out only to reestablish themselves bright and clear again a moment or two later. Well, it was mid-morning and time for me to grab a snack, you know to maintain my blood sugar and all, and I asked Sheppard if he wanted to take a break and get some coffee or something and he shut down the Chair and just said no he was fine and that he'd just wait there until I got back. I think he was dozing when I got back as he seemed startled when I touched his shoulder and offered him the coffee I'd brought back for him. Anyway he thanked me and drank the cup almost in a single gulp and we got back to work. And that was..." Rodney paused as he glanced at his watch. "...a couple... no, more like three hours ago. We'd finished with the weapons status and had moved onto the many diagnostic sub-routines and Sheppard appeared to have some difficulty making the data come up on the display and suddenly it shut down. Dead. The whole platform went dark. I was just about to check if it was a power interruption of some type when Grodin told me that the major was unconscious."
Moments later John moaned and mumbled incoherently then turned his head and retched.
ooOoo
When the dust settled the following day deep in the Antarctic Outpost, Carson Beckett had been livid. Rodney and John had been using the Chair for upwards of eight to ten hours a day. Carson had read the riot act to both men with Elizabeth there as Expedition leader, witness and back-up, telling them that as of now unless it was a dire emergency no one - not even Major Sheppard - was to use the Chair longer than four to six hours in a single day and that he would prefer the contiguous time be no more than two hours with at least an hour break between the two hour sessions and for no more than three days in a row and that there be regular medical checks, at the physician's discretion, on the user of the Chair.
"Doc, you can't be serious." Sheppard, looking much better but still a bit pale and still confined to a bed in the infirmary, looked surprised. "It wasn't that bad. 'Sides I'm fin-"
"No, Major!" Becket cut him off. "Yer most decidedly not fine! Ye were suffering from dehydration, poor nutrition. Yer body chemistry was completely out of normal range 'n yer blood pressure was way too low. Yer runnin' a low grade fever. An' our scans confirmed ye had been having migraines in at least four distinct episodes in recent days." Carson glared at him. "What's wrong wit' ye, Lad? Are ye tryin' to kill yerself?! There's no reason ye should nowt be eatin' 'n drinkin' regularly as there tis no emergency at hand. An' absolutely no reason in the world ye should be tryin' ta ignore a migraine an' keep right on workin' like that! That's why there are medical facilities here. There's no shame in askin' for help 'n no shame in lettin' us do our job, which is ta take care of ye!"
"But, Doc-" Beckett cut him off with a sharp look.
"Carson, be reaso-"
"An' ye!" Carson rounded on the astrophysicist. "Fer a genius, ye are the biggest idiot 'round!" A quick tilt of his head towards the major and the doctor continued, "The lad I could almost excuse in this fiasco. He hasnae had the time ta read all the reports regarding the Chair 'n its use 'n interaction wit' Ancient technology yet. But ye!" Beckett poked Rodney in the chest. "Ye know that workin' wit' tha' stuff tis a strain. Even General O'Neill finds it difficult ta maintain the concentration ta keep the Chair active, 'n up until the major dropped inta our laps, the general was the one wit' the best ability ta use the Ancient stuff!"
"But Carson, the major said he was fine!" Rodney tried defend himself.
"Aye! An' like many o' the military, he'd walk on a broken leg 'n tell ya 'tis nowt but a bloody sprain!'" Carson shook his head and glared at both men. "Rodney, yer gonna kill 'im if you keep this up!" When both men appeared to be about to reply he cut them off. "Dr. Weir," he addressed her formally, "as of this moment, I'm requestin' that my previous recommendations be adopted as official policy in regards ta the use o' the Chair. An' that 'til he is officially recovered 'n released from observation, there will be a corpsman present durin' all the major's sessions in the Chair just ta make cert'n that all the guidelines are followed."
"Sounds more than reasonable to me, Dr. Beckett."
ooOoo
Elizabeth sighed as she stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to take her to the infirmary level. Leave it to their newest ATA carrier and their head scientist to give everyone a good scare while still at the Outpost. And now, somehow here at SGC headquarters they had managed to find trouble yet again. She exited the elevator and hurried to the SGC infirmary, dreading what she might discover. She entered to find Dr. Lam and Dr. Beckett conferring quietly as a corpsman finished settling their patient who, she was unsurprised to see, was Major Sheppard.
"What happened? Is Major Sheppard okay?" Both physicians turned toward her.
"Well, it seems that the major 'n a cert'n astrophysicist have been keepin' themselves occupied tryin' ta identify 'n test virtually everah Ancient artifact collected by the SGC over the last - what? - couple o'decades. All wit' the idea that twas absolutely essential that it be done 'afore we departed for the Pegasus galaxy." Elizabeth blinked in shock. There had to be thousands upon thousands of items collected by the SGC, NSA and other programs and organizations.
"But that's-that..." She stammered to a halt as a faint moan was heard from the bed. The doctors reacted immediately and moved one on each side of their patient.
"Are ye back wit' us, Laddie?" She saw Sheppard swallow roughly and open his eyes only to snap them close.
"Ah!... too bright..." The major's voice was rough. He tried to raise a hand to cover his eyes, but Carson intercepted and lowered it back to the bed, untangling the IV line. Immediately Dr. Lam turned off the lights directly over the bed.
"Come on, Major, give it a try now," Carson gently encouraged. Elizabeth saw John slowly open his eyes, obviously relieved at the lowered light level.
"Doc?" Even partially shadowed it was easy to read the confusion on the man's face. "Wha... happenin'?" He started to lift his head, but groaned and snapped his eyes close. "...not good..."
"Aye, Lad." Carson had a hand on the major's shoulder encouraging him to keep still. "Just relax 'n tell us how yer feelin'."
"Umm..." Sheppard blinked again and licked his lips. "Been better." He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Think ya can call off the guys with the ice picks hammerin' in my head?" Another reflexive swallow. "Feels like my stomach wants to join in the party as well... Mouth tastes like old, sour socks..."
"Okay, Major, we'll see wha' we can do for ye."
Moments later Dr. Lam handed Carson a syringe. "Lidocaine." He nodded and she held a second syringe as well. "Compazine."
"Here's somethin' ta take the edge off at least. Help ye relax a wee bit." The doctor cleaned the I.V. port with a sterile alcohol wipe and injected the first drug. Dr. Lam relieved him of the empty syringe and handed him the second. "And now somethin' ta help settle yer stomach." Another injection and moments later Sheppard seemed to visibly sink into the bedding as the medication took effect. "Better, Lad?"
"Much..." Sheppard gave the doctor a slow blink and his eyes closed once again. "...than'sss..."
"Just sleep, Major. Tis the best thin' for ye, right now." Carson checked the major's pulse and respiration once more before he turned to Elizabeth and motioned her to follow him over to the duty desk. Dr. Lam remained with Sheppard adjusting the I.V. and making notations in his charts.
"Will he be okay?" Elizabeth glanced back at the bed.
"Aye, I thin' so." Beckett sighed. "I want ta do a neurological scan after he's had a bit o' rest just ta double check." He nodded toward his sleeping patient. "But seems ta be a virtual repeat o' the incident back at the Ancient Outpost. Jus' seems ta have taken a wee bit longer to catch up wit' him 'cause he 'n Rodney were investigatin' smaller widgets nowt takin' near as much effort ta activate as it were. But the sheer number..." Carson rubbed his forehead for a moment. With the swiftly approaching Departure date everyone on the expedition was running sleep deprived and under stress, but there were limits. "Good thin' we're nowt leavin' fer another week o' I doubt the major wouldnae be able ta handle the Gate travel 'n he wouldnae be comin' wit'."
"What do we need to do to ensure he'll be ready?" Elizabeth knew that the major would be playing a huge role in their future exploration of the Ancient's city of Atlantis and the Pegasus Galaxy. She needed him healthy and ready to travel with them by the Departure day.
"Well, I'm seriously considerin' confinin' 'im ta the infirmary 'til the day 'afore we depart. But..." The doctor shook his head and grimaced. "I suspect he'll be climbin' the walls long 'afore then 'n no doubt drivin' the staff crazy as well."
"Tell you what, Carson," Elizabeth grinned at the Scottish doctor, "if you want to keep him here, I'll make it an order he can't refuse and maybe find something hopefully safe to keep him occupied while confined to his bed." Beckett smiled for the first time since she had arrived.
"Aye, that's the ticket-" He was cut off as Rodney barged in.
"Carson, have you seen Sheppard anywhere?" The astrophysicist barely blinked as he registered Elizabeth's presence. "Oh, Elizabeth, you might want to make it a standing order that the major must tell me where he is or plans to be. I mean my time is a valuable commodity and we were supposed to be doing some more testing on the artifacts and he never showed up this morning! And here I thought he was better than the average Neanderthal military grunt." He waved his hand impatiently. "I checked his quarters, the commissary and just about any place else he might have gone. I checked that he hadn't left the complex and even checked with Sumner's people and they claimed to have no knowledge of him, nor did they seem to particularly care. It's just so not fair. A hot shot flyboy with the Ancient gene and aptitude to use it like no one else and he can't be relied upon to show up when expected. Now if I had the gene I'd be working non-stop to understand..." It suddenly seemed to penetrate McKay's attention that both Carson and Elizabeth were glaring at him rather pointedly. "What?" Both the leader of the expedition and the CMO turned and indicated the bed in the farthest corner of the infirmary. "What? What's that got to-" Rodney paused. "Is that Sheppard?!" He started toward the bed only to be grabbed by Beckett and forced out into the hallway. "Hey-!"
"Keep yer voice down, ye daft bugger." The doctor's grip was vice-like on the scientist's arm as he pulled him towards an empty lab across the corridor. Elizabeth closed the door once they were inside and Beckett released Rodney. "What the bloody hell tis wrong wit' ye, Rodney?!"
"Wrong with me?!" McKay frowned at him and rubbed his arm. "Elizabeth, I think Carson's been working too many hours. He's not sounding coherent-"
"Rodney!" She rarely raised her voice, but when she did it got people's attention. "If you'll just be quiet for just a moment-"
"Me? Why do I have to be quiet-"
"Doctor McKay! Shut it!" That got his attention. Elizabeth lifted a brow toward the doctor indicating it was his turn.
"Rodney," Beckett voice was calm, almost deceptively quiet, "just what have ye 'n the major been doin' since he arrived at the mountain?"
"We've been sorting through and testing as many of the Ancient artifacts as we can." McKay thought it was all quite reasonable. "Knowing as much as possible about them could be of vital for us in Atlantis and, of course, great value back here at the SGC. The major is the first person we've found with the ability to activate so much of it with little or no effort. We've sorted out tons of the good stuff from the inane or plain broken junk, it's amazing. And as much as I hate to admit it, Sheppard does have an aptitude to test things quickly but thoroughly. I've got tons of data in my laptop that'll take weeks if not months to sort through once I can manage a little spare time when we've settle on Atlantis. If it should even help us figure out even a small portion of what we might find there..." Once again Rodney belatedly noticed that both Elizabeth and Carson seemed less than impressed with him. "What?"
"How many days and hours per day have you and the major been doing this urgent project?" Elizabeth crossed her arms, leaning back against a counter.
"Well, I think..." Rodney tried to concentrate. "I'm not quite certain, you know how I get in the midst of a project. I'm sure I could piece it together for you from my notes." He frowned. "Why is this so important now?"
"Because, Rodney," Beckett paused and took a calming breath before he continued, "don't you recall the procedures that were instituted for using the Chair back at the Outpost?"
"Well, of course, I do," Rodney huffed. "Seemed a bit excessive to me, but we followed your rules, Carson. What's this got to do with Sheppard being in the infirmary?"
"What's it got to do with-" Beckett cut himself off and took a deep breath before continuing. "Rodney, do ye remember why the major passed out in the Chair back at the Outpost after too many hours o' activatin' it?" The physicist nodded. "An' what have the two o' ye been doin' here?"
"Checking out and testing Ancient artifacts." Rodney frowned. "But it's not the same,. These are just small tech pieces and don't usually take the major more than a moment or two to see if they work. A lot don't. The ones that do, we scan them in and test some of the parameters and move on." Beckett and Weir continued to stare at him. "It's nothing like him working with the Chair, nowhere near as taxing. I know because we've spent the last couple of weeks working our way through the catalogues..." The shoe dropped. Oh, shit. "But he never said anything to me. Not really. Mentioned having a headache a couple of times... maybe..."
"Rodney, twas quickly well established that the major isn't one ta complain' 'n more'n likely ta continue on 'til he collapses rather than admit ta needin' a wee bit o' help." Beckett fixed him with a hard look.
"But-"
"No, buts, Rodney," Carson scolded. "Now, the major's goin' ta be confined ta the infirmary for a bit." He held up a hand to forestall Rodney's question. "An' no, ye will not be pesterin' him with any more Ancient tech 'afore Departure. We need him hale an' ready fer whatever we find at the other end o' the wormhole in a week's time." He waved a warning finger at the scientist. "Because if we were ta be leavin' anytime sooner than a week, I doubt the major would be up ta travelin' wit' the expedition. Ye wouldnae want ta lose yer newest playpal now would ye, Rodney?"
"Of course not!... Hey, he's not my playpal! We're doing important research here!" Rodney blustered.
ooOoo
CLANG!-CRASH! "Shit!"
He woke abruptly, though was cautious about opening his eyes, expecting the headache to be lurking nearby. Fortunately, the lights were fairly low and he was pleasantly surprised that his head no longer felt as if it were in a vice.
THUNK! He flinched as everything including himself shook for a moment. "Ow! - Damn it!" He could not agree more as he discovered the headache was not gone, just reduced to a mostly tolerable level that could be ignored. However, the rest of him, including his stomach and joints, was sore and kind of achy as if he had the flu. He turned his head carefully toward the voice that seemed almost in his ear and saw Rodney McKay rubbing head as he crouched close by.
"Rodney, fer heaven's sake tis an infirmary. Keep yer voice down." The second voice had a familiar brogue to it even if it was pitched low in an stage whisper.
"I was just trying to mop up the coffee and I banged my head... Hey!" He blinked at McKay as the scientist caught sight of him. "Carson! He's awake!" John could not stop the wince as Rodney's yelling cut right into his head. Moderate headache or no, it was still present.
"Rodney!" Again the harsh whisper did little to hide the brogue and abruptly Carson stepped into his line of sight. "Major? Are ye wit' us once more, Lad?"
ooOoo
He woke to the sounds of typing and someone... no, make that McKay muttering to himself. Blinking, he pushed himself upright in the bed, his pillow sliding down to support his shoulders, and licked his lips. His mouth tasted sour. Bleh. "Hey," he tried to get the scientist's attention.
"Just a minute..." With a vague motion of a hand, McKay dismissed him for a moment.
John squinted at his watch on the on the tray-table and saw it was nearly 1500 hours. After a sip of the tepid water always at his bedside since Beckett insisted that he must drink fluids, lots and lots of fluids, he scrubbed his hands over his face feeling the scraggly two day beard growth and sighed. Damn. Third day in the infirmary and still taking naps. He just could not seem to shake the lethargy that plagued him. Well, at least as of this morning's check-up the headache had finally gone, the low-grade fever seemed to have disappeared with it and the I.V. and the catheter had finally been removed and he had been allowed to use the facilities. Never mind that he had had the head rush from hell when he had pushed up from the bed and had to hold tightly on the corpsman's arm until his equilibrium returned. Never mind that by the time he made his slow deliberate way back to his freshly made bed, with the corpsman hovering at his elbow, he was more than ready to crawl in, pull the covers up and take a long nap.
He had woken a few hours later to find lunch had just been delivered and that there was an airman waiting for his signature in receipt of a packet of confidential reports for him to read when he felt up to it. Eating the chicken salad sandwich and sipping the chicken noodle soup, he had started reading the SG mission reports from its inception. He finished the soup, but chicken salad not being a favorite, he left half the sandwich untouched as his attention was fixed on the details of the encounters SG-1 experienced in just their first few months of gate travel. Absently, he ate most of the applesauce that accompanied the meal, his attention riveted to the reports. However, by the end of the third of the heavily detailed mission analysis he could hardly keep his eyes open. He shuffled the stack together and slid them into the red classified document holder and placed it in the compartment of his tray table. It seemed as safe as any since he was deep in the heart of one of the world's most highly classified military facilities. He had pushed the button to lower the head of the bed and was asleep within moments.
"There." Rodney smiled to himself as he shut down his laptop and closed the lid. "So, Major Sleeping Beauty, I stopped in to see how you were recovering and found you drooling on your pillow and dead to the world. Not the most endearing sight, mind you." The scientist grinned rather sheepishly.
"Well, since the doc won't release me..." he deliberately stretched in a lazy, cat-like manner, "figured I'd take the chance to catch up on some sleep." If only, but John knew even if McKay tried to deny it, the scientist had been wallowing in the guilt over their latest fiasco. It mattered not one wit that John had a brain and a mouth and had been fully capable of of stopping things before they went too far, Rodney was positive since he was the smartest person on the base (probably in the northern hemisphere) then he should have been smart enough to keep one USAF pilot in line.
"Ah, right." McKay did not look convinced but he did not press the point. "So I see that you've also been catching up on the SG missions of the Milkyway Galaxy before we depart for uncharted territories." John saw that the tray-table drawer was partially open and the red document holder was clearly visible.
"Yep." John shifted up higher and pressed the button to raise the head of the bed. "Dr. Weir thought I should familiarize myself with how things have been handled in other first encounters, how unusual situations become the norm..." He shrugged. "'Sides gives me something to do besides sleep and memorize the ceiling tiles."
"I've read a fair number of the reports. Even..." Rodney frowned for a moment. "Never mind... Oh, thought you might like to know - I've downloaded a full copy of all the data we've collected on the artifacts since we've been here at Cheyenne into the SGC mainframe and it'll probably take them years to sort through on this side." He grinned. "But you and I, and of course everyone else on the Atlantis Expedition, get to check out things at the source so to speak. Think of it..."
John let Rodney's comments flow around him. He asked a few pertinent questions, contributed a couple of ideas and managed to not sound like a complete idiot judging from the scientist's expression, but for the most part he just enjoy the man's company. They were both studying the display on Rodney's laptop at a schematic that illustrated a tiny fraction of the inner workings of the Ancient Weapons Chair at the Antarctic Outpost when a corpsman wheeled a cart in with loaded with dinner trays.
"Oh, is it that late?" McKay glanced at his watch. "Gotta grab something to eat before I go over the schematics for hooking up the ZedPM to the Stargate." He shut down the laptop and stood up. "Just four more days to make absolutely positive that everything is set up properly." Without pausing for breath, the scientist gave him a quick wave and was out the door headed towards the elevators.
John just shook his head. Sometimes just listening to the scientist could be exhausting. He watched as the dinner trays were delivered to the few other occupied infirmary beds; though at the moment he had a more pressing need.
"There you go, Sir." The corpsman efficiently cleared the tray-table and set the insulated tray on it. "Would there be anything else, Sir?"
"Thank you, Corpsman." John hesitated then decided he could do it on his own. He did not need a babysitter just to visit the little airman's room. "I'm set." He waited until the young man left with the empty cart. Checking the area, he noted that with the exception of the four beds occupied by SG-12's team members, all of whom were under 48 hour observation after an encounter with rather large leech-like creatures from swamp infested PX568-879, the infirmary was clear. He pushed the tray-table carefully to the side, out of the way, and shifted the bed covers as he swung his legs over the edge. Thankfully, he was dress in scrubs rather than a drafty, all too revealing hospital gown.
He set his sock-covered feet on the icy cold floor and pushed himself slowly upright, holding on the edge of the bed just in case. Thankfully, other than a brief flash of lightheadedness and marginally shaky legs, he felt fine. Though for some reason the distance to the bathroom seemed to grow and by the time he managed to close the door and hobbled over to take care of necessities. He was seriously considering just staying put for awhile. He was not looking forward to the trek back.
ooOoo
Marshall Sumner was not a complicated man. He knew his role in life and that he found fulfillment in the military; he enjoyed his part. That did not mean he would remain silent when mistakes were made by others that would saddle them with potential disaster - namely one Major John Sheppard of USAF. Black-mark or not on the pilot's record, reading between the lines it was easy to discern that Sheppard was trouble. Although genuinely talented as a pilot of virtually any aircraft, as well as a highly trained special ops soldier, it was patently obvious that man had issues with authority. That he had defied a direct order to attempt a rescue of his fellow soldiers in enemy territory should have surprised no one. Sheppard had been a court martial just waiting to happen.
Unfortunately, Sheppard had gotten off far too easily as far as Sumner was concerned. The pilot should have summarily court martialed and sentenced to spend time, a long time in the Leavenworth. Instead Sheppard had received a slap on the wrist, a black-mark on his record and a transfer to McMurdo. And now the man somehow managed a special invite onto a very important expedition. Sometimes there was simply no justice. Maybe if he had had more time to work on Weir's resolve he could have persuaded her that having Sheppard on the expedition was a bad situation on a slow boil. But he had not joined until the Weir and the others had moved to SGC headquarters a little over a month prior to the planned for departure to the Pegasus galaxy, and by that time, Sheppard had insinuated himself with the scientific members and with Weir herself to such an extent that they would not listen to reason.
He had been extraordinarily busy selecting the unit that would be under his command and help to safeguard the International expedition that was heading to Atlantis since he had arrived at Cheyenne. He had also been in on the long sessions with Dr. Weir and Dr. McKay as plans for the role of the military contingent were worked out for after they had secured the site at the far side of the wormhole. When he had tried to check in on Sheppard a few times, he had found the man, the head of the scientific team and several other scientists ensconced in a lab checking out various artifacts. While he was certain the scientists felt it important, he was also positive it was a way for Sheppard to slough off and not toe the line with the rest of the military staff.
Now, after seeing no evidence of the major around the labs as of the last few days he doubled checked with Weir that morning on the whereabouts of her military adjunct. Sumner shook his head over the idea that Sheppard could duped them into thinking that he had exhausted himself so that he could be confined to the infirmary for the remainder of their time at SGC headquarters. More laziness, he had no doubt. On his way to the commissary to grab some dinner, he decided to drop in on Sheppard in the infirmary and see if he could at least put the fear of his superior officer into troublemaker.
He heard the voices near the doorway as he entered and saw four beds in a row occupied. SG-12, if he was not mistaken, team members appeared to be discussing plans for their next extended leave as they finished off their dinner trays, alternately trading friendly insults with ideas. Scanning the other beds for the recalcitrant pilot, he saw the bed in the far corner was unmade with the dinner tray still covered on the tray-table near it. He frowned. Where the hell could the major have disappeared? The man was supposed to recuperating and was that was the supposed reason for confining him under the watchful eye of Drs. Lam and Beckett.
He scanned the room. Seeing the duty desk unoccupied, he turned to ask the SG-12 team if they knew where the major had disappeared, when he heard a door click shut. Major Sheppard dressed in white scrubs, hair in disarray and sporting a scruffy beard was shuffling towards the corner bed.
"Sheppard! Just where the hell have you been, Major!" Sumner watched the pilot whirl around in startled surprise, sway alarmingly as the man's face went white even as he lifted his right hand to salute. Sumner's subconscious registered the entrance of at least two people just behind him. The salute was never completed as the major went down in a crumpled heap a half second later.
"Major!" "Wot the bloody 'ell?!..."
Somehow despite his battle fast reflexes, Drs. Beckett and Weir reached the crumpled major before the colonel had taken more than a couple of steps.
ooOoo
He was cold and his bed was rock hard. Hands were touching him and he heard voices floating above him, but for the moment he felt disconnected from it all.
"...happened?..." "What's wrong with him?..." "...lazy bastard was sneaking back in..." "Major Sheppard... can you hear me?..."
He sighed. The voices were getting more persistent, annoying even. "'m... here..." Was that his voice? Why did it sound so ragged? "'m tired..."
"I know, Lad. But I need ya ta open yer eyes for me first."
It took a lot of concentration and effort, but he finally managed to slit his eyes open enough to see an obviously concerned Beckett looming over him. Before he could even blink, the doctor was replaced by the angry face of Colonel Sumner. "Quit your shirking, Sheppard. I've seen it all before and if I had my way you'd be pulling latrine duty back at McMurdo. So don't-"
"Colonel, get the hell out o' my way!" Sheppard blinked and abruptly Beckett leaned close. "Lad, do ye know where ye are?" The room started to spin faster and tilt. John closed his eyes and swallowed hard.
Somewhere close by he heard Sumner growling about lollygaggers and bleeding-heart doctors and he figured the colonel had to be talking about him. But he could not concentrate enough to care. Right now he wanted the world to stop whirling and the guy with the sledge hammer to stop walloping the blazes out of the inside of his skull. His stomach convulsed and he saw stars as he started retching and someone helped turn him to his side. Some distant part of his brain realized that lunch was making an encore appearance and he had not even had time to see what was for dinner. And he had so hoped to not be doing the Exorcist thing again. Not that it mattered as his world turned grey then dimmed to blackness.
ooOoo
Elizabeth Weir took her time preparing her cup of coffee. She could feel the colonel's eyes burning holes between her shoulder blades as he sat ramrod straight in the chair facing her desk. Carefully she added a generous dollop of cream and a half-teaspoon of sweetener and stirred slowly. It was hot and barely sweet and went down smoothly. It should as it was her own private stock of gourmet beans ground fresh every morning by Peter Grodin. The scientist and she shared a passion for good coffee, really good coffee, so they had made an unspoken deal. She would supply the beans and he would grind them fresh daily and they shared the precious hot, caffeinated, gourmet beverage with few others. She was going to miss this when the nearest gourmet coffee shop was 300 million light-years away. This evening she needed the caffeine as much as the routine of making her drink to calm her nerves.
"Colonel," she turned and sat at her desk, with her mug cradled in her hands, "care to explain why you were in the infirmary making accusations against Major Sheppard? Accusing him of duping Dr. Beckett and myself in order to get himself on the sicklist?" Sumner did not look the least impressed by what he had just witnessed in the infirmary. If anything the man appeared even more belligerent despite the evidence he had witnessed for himself.
"Come on, Dr. Weir," Sumner sat forward in the chair, "it's obvious from the man's records that he's lazy and doesn't give a damn about authority. I'm sure he got tired of hanging around the scientific types and decided to take a nice vacation under medical supervision. Hell, if you need him supervised send him my way. My XO, Sgt. Bates, and I can certainly find enough jobs to keep him busy until departure time." He smirked. Wouldn't it just be too bad if the major was too busy to join them on the departure day? "I know the whole passing out thing was because he got caught sneaking around and decided to go for broke to cover his ass."
"Colonel Sumner," Elizabeth waited until he had finished his rant, "if you had really read Major Sheppard's records you would know that far from avoiding his duties, he's often volunteered for extra. There are many commendations for bravery in his records. Yes, the man disobeyed a direct order, but only so he could attempt to save two soldiers. Isn't that the military code? Never leave a man behind." Sumner said nothing, merely pressed his lips in a tight line. It was obvious that anything she had to say would fall on deaf ears.
"Fine." She took a long drink from her mug. "First, the Atlantis expedition is an international scientific endeavor. I am mission leader and you are its military leader. You need to be cognizant that Major Sheppard is assigned to my auspices as my military adjunct. He answers to me and is under my authority. Undoubtedly he will be called upon to work along side your men, especially on off-world missions once we are in Pegasus galaxy and in those situations he would be under your command." She saw the glimmer in the man's eyes. "To that end, if you have any non-time critical issues with my adjunct you will bring them to me and I will handle it." She paused and looked Sumner directly in the eyes. "Do I make myself clear, Colonel?"
"Yes, Ma'am." The man blinked, breaking eye contact momentarily. "If I might speak candidly?" At Weir's slightly wary nod, he continued, "Dr. Weir, I know that you are no pushover. I know that you were in charge of the SGC during a difficult transition period and I respect your abilities. I do, unfortunately, feel that your expedition's need for people possessing the Ancient gene has blinded you to potential problems in the making. Major Sheppard is a liability in his inability to be trusted to follow orders. His so-called laid-back style is nothing more than laziness and yet somehow he's managed to avoid the consequences of his actions, receiving little more than a slap on the wrist when he should have been court martialed. And now he seems to have fooled you and Dr. Beckett into believing he should be sicklisted instead of pitching in to help wherever needed as the deadline for departure gets closer by the hour. I just don't see-"
"No, Colonel," Elizabeth cut him off, "you obviously choose not see what is right in front of you." Sumner looked a bit flustered that she had dared to interrupt him. "Major Sheppard has the highest Ancient gene ability we've come across so far. Not only does he possess the gene to a high degree, he also possesses an natural ability to control his interaction with ancient technology to a degree never witnessed before or since. You do realize, Colonel, that we are planning to go to the homebase of the Ancients?" She leaned a bit across her desk. "We are going to need every ATA gene carrier we can muster in order to function in a world created by the Ancients for their own use. For that reason alone, we'd be foolish to not bring the major with us. Secondly, the man is a superior pilot and we know the Ancients created many ships that will without a doubt need the touch of a pilot - a pilot with the ATA gene." She shifted back in her seat.
"Finally, as to his dependability. Since his precipitous and unusual introduction to the world of Stargates, wormhole travel, Ancients and their technology, Major Sheppard has been one of the most diligent ATA carriers we have. He appears to instinctively know how to activate and manipulate Ancient tech with very little instruction and he has been an enormous help in just helping our scientists truly begin to understand the full potential of devices like the Weapons Chair in Antarctica. Twice now he's worked himself to exhaustion trying to help as much as possible." When it appeared that Sumner was going to comment, she held up a warning finger. "Before you question whether his need for recuperation is real, I must ask you - have you read the reports surrounding Jack O'Neill's use of the Ancient tech, including the weapons chair?"
"Well, of course I have." Sumner frowned. "But what's that got to do wit-"
"I've studied the general's report, the accompanying medical data and doctors' follow-up reports all of which state that working long-term with the devices can cause extreme disorientation as the brain chemistry alters and is draining to the point of physical collapse if not monitored carefully." When Sumner nodded, she continued, "Well, Major Sheppard and Dr. McKay have been a bit overly enthusiastic in their study of Ancient tech. First with the Chair and now with a huge catalogue of artifacts collected by the SGC and its counterparts. In short, the major collapsed from exhaustion because he had driven himself into the ground doing what he felt was expected, what was needed of him." A small sip of the rapidly cooling coffee and she continued, "So Carson and Dr. Lam have placed Major Sheppard on the sicklist. Hopefully he'll be fully recovered and ready for our trip to the Pegasus galaxy in three days. We do need him along, even if you don't happen to concur. So, have I now made myself clear about this, Colonel?" She could dish it out with the best the military had to offer.
"Crystal."
ooOoo
"...thought he was doing better... We even managed a mostly coherent discussion yesterday afternoon and he didn't fall asleep or drool once. Though he was, drooling I mean, when I first came in... Anyway, so why's he back under your voodoo magic with the tubes and monitors again?..."
"Rodney, keep yer voice down. I dunna want ta remind ye again." Rodney was pattering on about something with Carson Beckett. Some part of John felt he should be more interested in the subject of the discussion, but it was difficult when his head felt stuffed with the same cotton that lined his mouth. Besides, his stomach was rolling again and judging from the feel of his throat and taste in his mouth, it had already tried to expel itself from his body. "...I told ye that the major..." Ah, he was the subject.
He did not bother to open his eyes. "I'm right here," he tried to say. But what came out was a raspy half croak followed by a short fit of coughing that triggered gagging. Cool hands supported his head and shoulders as he was encouraged to roll to the side and he got rid of the vile stuff in his throat and mouth. A damp cloth wiped his face and mouth when the fit was done and he was settled on his back. Forcing his eyes open, he found Beckett and McKay looking at him with identical expressions of concern. He licked his dry lips and momentarily found a straw pressed to his mouth. The cool water tasted so good he fairly moaned as the liquid soothed his mouth and throat. And then the straw was pulled away and he sighed.
"Better, Major?" Beckett leaned close to study him. "Stomach settlin'?"
"Yeah." He frowned as he saw the doctor reaching for his ever present penlight. "Aww, Doc..."
"It'll just take but a moment." His eyes watered in the aftermath of the bright light. What the hell was it with doctors and torturing with bright lights? "Ah, good. Much better."
"What?" John frowned as he felt the I.V. now in his left hand. (Oh goodie he would have matching band-aids on each hand when he finally escaped from the damned infirmary!) "I thought we were done with this?" At a sudden thought, he carefully shifted just a bit and was thankfully able to conclude there was no catheter this time around. Thank god. "Then again I thought I was done with the headache and projectile vomiting..." He struggled to recall what had happened to change everything.
"Well, ye've had a wee bit o'a set back." Carson adjusted the earpieces and slid the cool head of the stethoscope under the shrub shirt. John realized someone must have swapped out his scrubs because these were a military green as opposed to the white ones he had been wearing. The doctor listened intently for a moment, shifting the head from one spot to another. "Sounds good."
"Doc, you gonna tell me what's going on?" John shifted up a bit on his elbows and a moment later Beckett adjusted the head of the bed up to support him. "Cause I seemed to have missed the last quarter." He grimaced as McKay dragged a stool closer to the bed, scraping noisily over the concrete floor.
"Oh, that would be you deciding to take a sudden nap on the floor." Rodney settled on the stool as he added his two cents.
"Rodney!" Beckett shook his head. "Wha'd ye last remember, Major?"
John bit his lip and tried to recall his last clear memory. "Not sure." He tried to make sense of random images of feet and a hard cold bed. "I remember talking to McKay and supper arriving... I think... I don't know... I think I remember doing another imitation of Linda Blair at some point only with chicken noodle soup."
"Well, according to Lieutenant Martins of SG-12, ye apparently decided ta use the facilities... wit'out ringin' for assistance, I might add." Beckett was not looking happy. "Major, ye do remember being told that 'til ye were more steady ye were ta have someone wit' ye? That includes usin' the facilities. We don't do these things ta make yer life difficult, Lad. Yer just lucky ye dinnae do yerself any real damage on yer way down." Though John could have sworn he saw a sudden twinkle in the doctor's eyes. "Though I cannae quite say the same for the colonel's shoes."
"What?" John demanded over Rodney's snickering. "Whose shoes?"
"The way I heard tell," McKay joined in still chuckling, "Sumner had to walk barefoot back to his quarters to change before reporting to Elizabeth's office."
ooOoo
"So we done here, Doc?" "Yeah, leave time is wastin'." "Well, never let it be said..."
He rolled over and tried to burrow deeper in the pillow. But there was a not quite comfortable tug on his hand and that brought him awake. Sighing, he tried to unroll himself and the I.V. tubing from the bedding without much luck it seemed. He was still struggling when the privacy curtain was shifted aside and Dr. Lam entered with a corpsman directly behind her.
"Good morning, Major." She quickly took in his predicament. "Here let me get that." Within moments, the tubing was untangled, the head of the bed raised and the bed linens resettled on his lap.
"Thanks, Doc." He wondered where Beckett was, not that he did not like Dr. Caroline Lam, but he had become rather more comfortable with Dr. Beckett since meeting him at the Outpost.
"You're welcome." She pulled his chart from the end of the bed and set it on the tray-table. "Well, since Dr. Beckett is tied up with meetings this morning, we decided I would do your morning check-up and then we'd see about getting you up on your feet for a bit."
"Sounds good to me." He sat up straighter. "Do you think I could get a shower? Even if I put on clean scrubs afterwards and head right back to bed?" He tried not to sound too desperate, but being cooped up in bed, even if he was not completely up to par, was starting to drive him buggy.
She saw the look on his face. "Maybe." Lam pulled her stethoscope from around her neck. "Let's see how you're doing this after this check-up and then we'll see about that shower." She waved her hand in emphasis to her follow up. "Supervised. Until we're certain you are steady on your feet, you will have someone nearby any time you're out of that bed."
He wanted to protest, he really did. After all, he was an adult and hardly needed a babysitter, but fuzzy memories of a not entirely successful solo trip to the bathroom the previous day made him reconsider. "Okay." He sighed. "Let's get this over with."
The check-up was quick. Dr. Lam was professional and her expression gave nothing away as she noted his stats in the chart. She nodded to the corpsman as she spoke. "Now, we'll just draw some blood and we're done for now." John resisted the urge to sigh again and quietly watched the corpsman wrap a rubber tourniquet around his right arm. He turned away.
"Can we ditch this thing, at least?" He lifted his hand with the I.V. attached.
She did not answer immediately as she finished her notations on the chart. "For the moment, Major," she looked up from the pages, "it stays. Your blood panels have been a bit off, your blood pressure is still on the low side of normal and that bout of vomiting yesterday left you a bit dehydrated once again. So the I.V. stays, but on the bright side after breakfast Corpsman James will accompany you while you take a shower." John smiled. It was better than nothing.
ooOoo
John nodded his thanks absently to the corpsman that took away the supper tray as he continued to read another SG team report. Two more in this batch and he would be ready for the next set. As dry and sometimes over detailed as the reports could be, he found them fascinating. Reading between the lines at times, he had to wonder sometimes just how any of this could become 'routine' to a team. A part of him wondered if they would encounter anything half as dangerous or even interesting in the Pegasus galaxy. The report finally done, he shifted and arched his back and stretched.
He was feeling almost back to normal after five days in the infirmary. The doctors had finally allowed him to get up unsupervised, though he was restricted to the infirmary and its facilities. That was fine with him; he was in no hurry to face Sumner after their last contact. He could not believe he had puked on the colonel's shoes. God, that was humiliating to learn. One more reason for the Atlantis' Expedition Military Commander to hate his guts. Sigh.
Beckett had assured him that he would be released in time for the expedition departure. Rodney dropped in frequently even in the midst of his pressing duties. Dr. Weir had been by a couple of times as well though he suspected she might just be checking to see if he was following doctor's orders. John was not stupid. He wanted to be a part of the Atlantis Expedition (even if he had never traveled via Stargate before and found the prospect just a bit daunting). And the only way he would be okayed for gate travel was for Beckett to give him the all clear so he was toeing the line like a good soldier.
Day after tomorrow was Departure Day. He could almost hear the capital letters anytime it was mentioned.
ooOoo
He woke early after a fitful night. The level of expectation and tension seemed to permeate the entire complex. Gating to other worlds had become routine for the SGC and its personnel. Gating to another galaxy was another matter all together. Even those not directly involved with the expedition were drawn in by the prospect of actually glimpsing the home of the race that had created the Stargates via the MALP.
Quietly, John showered and dressed in his new grey and black Expedition uniform. He had cleaned and oiled his 9mil along with his new p90 the night before and both were sitting on the bedside table with the jacket and vest. His backpack was organized and contained all of what he considered immediate essentials for when they arrived on the far side of the wormhole. The rest of his allotment was already packed and stowed with the other expedition members' supplies and few personal items, all ready for quick transport through the Stargate.
Dr. Beckett had cleared him for full duty as of the evening before, but John had slept in the infirmary as his temporary quarters had already been reassigned. Besides his was the only bed occupied at the moment so he had a fair amount of privacy for the past few days. He had chaffed at not being allowed to help Weir or McKay as activity had escalated at what seemed an exponential rate tied to the fast approach of Departure. But Drs. Beckett and Lam had held firm with Dr. Weir's approval; he had had no choice but to remain on the sicklist until last evening.
ooOoo
He adjusted the clip on the p90 as he threaded his way through the crowded corridors leading to the Gate room. For the most part, no one paid him a bit of attention and that was fine with him. It just felt good to be out of the infirmary and finally to be getting on with the mission.
"Colonel." Sumner did not reply, but he did not need to. The man's disapproval fairly radiated through to John. He turned his attention to Weir as she headed toward the ramp.
"Can I have everyone's attention, please?" She paused at the bottom of the ramp. "All right, here we go. We are about to try to make a connection. We've been unable to predict exactly how much power this is going to take and we may only get the one chance at this. So if we're able to achieve a stable wormhole, we're not going to risk shutting it down. We'll send in the MALP robot probe, check for viability and go. Everything in one shot." John watched as Weir looked over the assembled expedition members.
"Now, everyone of you has volunteered for this mission and you represent over a dozen countries. You are the world's best and brightest. And in light of the adventure we are about to embark on, you are also the bravest. I hope we all return one day having discovered a whole new realm for humanity to explore. But as all of you know, we may never be able to return home. I'd like to offer you all one last chance to withdraw your participation." John could feel the tension as everyone looked around, but no one spoke up. "Begin the dialing sequence." Weir hurried up to the control room.
John did one last check of his weapons and equipment as the Stargate's ring spun. "Let me make myself clear, Major. You are not here by my choice." He stiffened at Sumner's voice.
"I'm sure you'll warm up to me, once you get to know me, Sir." John could not believe the man was putting on a show of his authority here as they were preparing to leave the Milk Way galaxy, perhaps forever.
"As long as you remember who's giving the orders." Sumner stepped past John.
"That would be Dr. Weir, right?" Sumner turned as his XO clipped his backpack to his shoulders. The look the man gave him was nothing less than lethal in its intensity. A moment later he was aware of Carson Beckett standing on his right, fidgeting. "You okay, Doc?" Carson gave him a quick nod. The man looked nervous but determined.
"Chevron five encoded." John glanced up at the control room just in time to see McKay join Weir, General O'Neill and Daniel Jackson. "Chevron six encoded." He watched the tension in the control room notch up as he heard. "Chevron seven encoded." He turned and watched as the last chevron lit up. "Chevron eight is locked."
John was glad he had the opportunity to watch a couple of SG missions embark so he was not as tempted to duck when the wormhole established and the initializing wave shot out over the ramp. It was still startling, though he attempted to look cool and calm about the whole thing. The civilians clapped and cheered as the wormhole stabilized. The MALP moved quickly up the ramp as every second counted in this gate connection.
"We have MALP telemetry." He glanced up to see McKay sitting at one of the stations.
Moments later he heard General O'Neill over the murmur of voices and the gate siren, "Dr. Weir, you have a go."
"Let's go, people." Sumner pulled his telecom earpiece out of his vest. "We don't know how much power we've got. Security teams one and two, you're up first." The colonel led his men up the ramp. "All other personnel will follow on our signal. Once on the other side, keep moving. Clear the debarkation area. On my lead!" John waited at the foot of the ramp. He glanced back and saw McKay on his left.
"Hold on, Colonel." Dr. Weir moved through the crowd, grabbed her backpack and joined Sumner at the top of the ramp. "We go through together."
"Fair enough." Sumner hardly paused. He took the point with his p90 at the ready with Dr. Weir in the back of the first group. Sumner and his men stepped through with no pause. Weir looked back for a moment apparently looking at the general and Jackson and then she stepped into the event horizon.
Sheppard and Lieutenant Ford moved to the top of the ramp, awaiting word. Now, his stomach was clenched. His first gate mission and it was to another galaxy. How did he manage to get himself into these things?
"Expedition team, move out." He took a quick look over his shoulder at the general and reminded himself that O'Neill and Jackson had done hundreds of missions via the Gate.
"What's it feel like?" John looked at the young lieutenant.
"Hurts like hell, Sir." Ford sounded serious and John nearly missed the mischievous grin before the young officer leapt backward into the Gate with a whoop.
What the hell. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and stepped into the shimmering pool of light.
ooOoo
01 Gauisus Casualis (serendipity) - complete
tbc... in 02 Clava Atlantis (key to Altantis) Summary: What if Major Sheppard had not accompanied that first SGA mission to Athos?
ooOoo