When Sheppard falls ill, the road to recovery takes a different turn than anyone could ever imagine. Sequel to 'REUNION' Shep gets well whumped in this one, but I also share the pain with Carson, Rodney and even Dave. Hope you enjoy the ride.
Disclaimer: SGA isn't mine, if it was you know the boy's would still be on every week.
Warning: A little bad language, and violence later on.
Many thanks to the wonderful Sherry 57 for a fabulous beta, and all her great suggestions.
A/N: The first draft of the story has been finished, but as it is still being edited and beta'd, I intend to post no later than every other day.
THE TIES THAT BIND
CHAPTER 1
"Are you alright, Colonel Sheppard?" John looked up with a start to see Woolsey staring at him, and realised he must have zoned out for a second.
"I'm good…thanks. It's been a rough few days and like everyone else on base, I haven't had much sleep, but in answer to your question we managed to evacuate three-thousand and fifty of Alunstran's population before the hive ship arrived. Lorne's team relocated the last refugees this morning." He replied, stifling a yawn.
Woolsey nodded slowly then asked in a low voice. "Do we know yet how many lives were lost?"
"Over a thousand we reckon, but the Elders won't know for sure until they've had a chance to do a census, and with the survivors scattered over three different locations, it could take a while before we get a final death toll." John raked a shaking hand through his hair - man he felt beat. He knew he'd done his best, hell they all had, but one life lost to the Wraith was one too many in his book, let alone the lives of over a thousand civilians. John felt both pissed and demoralised, as it was clear the Wraith had used Atlantis' brief sojourn on Earth to regroup and the trail of devastation they were leaving behind was sickening.
"Get some rest, Colonel, I can see you're dead on your feet." Woolsey said, then gave him a look of concern, "Are you sure that's all it is? Maybe you should get Doctor Keller to check you out."
John pushed himself out of the seat and was surprised at how much effort it took. "I'm fine…just tired, a few hours sleep and I'll be good as new."
"Well take as much down time as you need, Colonel, and please, pass on my congratulations. Everyone did an excellent job in very difficult circumstances, and while it's regrettable so many people died, without their efforts I have no doubt the death toll would have been even greater." Woolsey responded and while he talked, rose to his feet and slowly walked him to the door.
It was only just past fourteen hundred hours and normally John would have sought out his team in the mess hall, but the truth was he didn't feel so great. Some of the kids they'd rescued had come down with the Athosian version of chicken pox – Valdernt's spot Teyla called it, but John just hoped it was exhaustion making each step arduous, the sheer motion of putting one foot in front of the other a struggle. Without wanting to draw attention to himself he subtly checked out his arms while he walked. He couldn't see any yellow spots, at least none visible, so really hoped it was just too many hours without sleep bringing him down, or maybe even a cold – he could handle that. What he couldn't handle was being stuck in the infirmary looking like a refugee from 'Sesame Street', and getting laughed at by Rodney while he took pictures to send round the base.
In the sanctity of his quarters John shivered, and cursed McKay for fiddling with the environmental controls again. He checked the dial and was surprised to see the thermostat read sixty-eight degrees as usual, instead of the fifty something it felt. Of course, he then realised it could be a system wide failure as the geeks had been helping with the relocation, so hadn't been around to attend to the domestics of running a large city.
Now cold as well as miserable, he dimmed the lights and slumped onto the bed. John knew what he needed was a hot shower and a bite to eat, but he felt achy and his body demanded rest – now. Besides, the indigestion which kicked off this morning had now cranked up a notch, so he just wanted to sleep. He was tempted to swing by the infirmary for some Pepto-Bismol, but couldn't face all the questions and prodding involved, so shucking off his boots he eased himself down flat, savouring the soft, cool feel of cotton as his head sank into the pillow. John felt a little guilty at lying there fully clothed in the middle of the day, but reckoned a short nap was just what the doctor ordered and after that, he'd be just fine…
ooooOoooo
"Where the hell is he?" Rodney blurted out the question to no one in particular, as he checked his watch for the umpteenth time. "I told Sheppard I needed to see him after he finished with Woolsey, and I've just saw Mr W. leaving the mess hall, alone - so what's keeping him?"
Radek took off his glasses and wiped them on his tee, then squinted up at his companion. "Now, Rodney…we both saw the colonel when he came through the 'gate – he looked exhausted. I'll admit that it's not like him to forget a meeting, but he's probably just in his quarters resting," he reasoned, then implored, "why don't you let the man get some sleep. I know this is important, but let's face it, the Trojan has obviously been in the database for at least months, maybe even years, so a few more hours isn't going to make much difference."
In response, Rodney glared at him, then turned to the side and activated his radio. "Sheppard. It's McKay…where are you?" no answer "Okay, flyboy, I know you're tried – well guess what, we all are, but that doesn't give you an excuse to stand me up." Rodney stopped when he realised how weird that sounded, but when John still didn't answer, he wasn't prepared to give up, so touching his radio again. "Right you asked for it, I'm coming down there, so better make sure you're decent!"
Out the corner of his eye Rodney saw the Czech shaking his head, muttering something in his native tongue as he moved away, which he guessed wouldn't be complimentary, but didn't care. Well he did, but not so much about what Radek thought of him, although he actually valued his associates opinion, but still, he was worried. It had been sheer luck while re-routing power to the heating conduits he'd discovered the Trojan, which raised all sorts of scary questions – like how long had it been there? What was it designed to do, and who had planted it there in the first place?
Rodney remembered the havoc caused when the Wraith planted a virus during their so called alliance, and it scared the crap out him to know there had been something lying hidden, causing all sorts of damage to their database for hell knew how long. Okay, so he accepted the intensive scans they'd carried out since it's discovery hadn't revealed any damage, but still, even if it was lying dormant he needed to know how to purge it from the system. So far though he hadn't managed it, and much to his frustration despite everything they'd tried, it was still there, waiting to wreak devastation in their systems, perhaps even potentially destroy the base, and Rodney felt helpless - a feeling that didn't sit at all well with him.
Still, there was something about it's configuration which seemed vaguely familiar, although he didn't think it was Wraith. The fact was, despite racking his brains he didn't have a clue, but guessed that somehow Sheppard might. John was smart, but in a non geek like way, and although it would take wild horses to make him admit it, the flyboy often had the knack of putting his finger on the problem when no one else could, so he needed him…even if it was just to offer moral support.
As he stormed out the lab into the busy corridor, he suddenly realised that it wasn't like the colonel to ignore anyone, let alone him, even if it was only to tell him to get lost. Three times he'd hailed Sheppard and hadn't gotten a reply, and he was starting to get a really bad feeling knowing John wasn't that sound a sleeper. For a moment he contemplated calling Beckett, then dismissed it immediately, knowing if John was, as he suspected, just catching some z's, the pilot wouldn't be the only one he'd piss off, and Beckett had a lot of big needles. Of course, if Sheppard really did have his head down, then he would've taken his radio off first. There was the other possibility his friend had simply gone for a run before he went to bed, and he, more than anyone, was aware how bad reception could be in some parts of the city. Just as he was tying himself up in mental knots, Rodney stupidly realised what he should have done earlier.
Without stopping he activated his radio. "It's Doctor McKay - can you give me Colonel Sheppard's location please?"
After a moments silence Chuck's voice replied. "Colonel Sheppard is in his quarters."
Rodney stopped dead and for a long moment he could only stand there, panicked, as his heart pounded against his chest and the blood roared through his ears, deafening him. Then he started running and without stopping did what his gut had told him to do only minutes before. "Beckett! Get your ass down to Sheppard's quarters now - he's in trouble."
ooooOoooo
When the wall of pain hit, it was all consuming, the vice like grip squeezing his chest agonising, leaving him breathless and barely able to move.
John didn't know how long ago the sharp pain had woken him from a restless sleep, his radio so near but in his helpless state too far to reach. He'd heard Rodney's angry, then worried tones, but white hot pain seared down his arm when he raised his hand, and his nightmare deepened when the damn thing fell from the night stand then flew across the room. His frustration overwhelming, as bitter tears fell unhindered, knowing help was within his grasp but in too much agony to make the call.
Surrounded by shadows, John wondered if this was how he was going to die. After everything he'd been through, Afghanistan, Koyla, the Wraith, and even the replicators, was it going to be here, alone, in the silence of his room? Death itself was not something that troubled him, as he'd made peace with the spectre of the grim reaper a long time ago. The manner of his demise was another matter however, sometime he'd always hoped to have some say in, although deep down, only too aware he didn't have the right. Not that he wanted to die, what sane person did? He had dreams, ambitions, which he still wanted to fulfil, but in the back of his mind John hoped if he didn't survive to live out the twilight of his years as a grumpy ex-vet, then he wanted to die while protecting his people, or even saving innocents from harm. If he were to die a pointless death like this - it just seemed so unfair.
"What the hell -" Rodney cried out, and the relief at hearing his friend's voice, was nearly his undoing as he tried to call out and ended up coughing, the resulting spasms constricting him further, as he gasped for air.
"Move out the way, Rodney," he heard Carson bark, then the Scot suddenly appeared at his side, his reproachful look quickly replaced by concern. "I'm here, Colonel, but by the looks of things you should have called me earlier," Carson muttered, "If you can, tell me what's wrong."
"Pain…" John gasped for breath, as he struggled to speak.
"Where about, Colonel?" Carson asked, while inserting a needle into his hand and starting an IV.
"Chest…shoulder….arm," John hissed, then groaned as he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut.
"What's wrong with him, Carson," Rodney called out from over his shoulder, his anxiety evident in his sharp tone.
"That's what I'm trying to find out, Rodney. Now why don't you leave me to take care of the Colonel, and update the others on the situation? Then bring Teyla and Ronon to the waiting room, and I'll speak to you all once I know more."
John welcomed the icy tingle of morphine that muted his pain, and the fresh, cool oxygen easing the tight band around his lungs, but most of all he was relieved to be no longer alone.
He was barely aware of the frantic pace of activity around him, until he felt a gentle hand on his arm. "It's time to go now, Colonel so just take it easy and let us do all the work. Marie… could you bring the gurney over to the bed please, love – but don't lay him flat," Carson warned, "I want to relieve the pressure on his airways as much as possible."
Darkness was creeping in, and as he felt himself gently lifted, heard a distant voice. "Hang in there, Colonel, you're going to be okay,"
And John knew he would be, because whatever happened now, he had friends by his side…
ooooOoooo
TBC.
I hope you enjoyed the start, and please review, as I like to know what you think.