Conditioned Aversion
Gold.
The burnished metal gleamed on his finger. Shone brightly in the lights of the infirmary. Rays bouncing off the yellow to sparkle in his eyes. From the color he judged it to be of fourteen karat gold. Comprised of fifty-eight point five percent pure gold. The remaining alloys other metals to give it strength, durability and color. The facts filled his head in mere seconds. Detached.
He looked from the ring encircling his finger to his friends. All were watching him. Expressions of baffled surprise, obvious concern. Elizabeth Weir looked stunned. Rodney McKay looked shocked. Ronon Dex was frowning in disbelief. One delicate brow was raised on Teyla Emmagan's skeptical face. Carson Beckett had a sickened appearance.
All gathered around his bed as he healed from the vicious injuries sustained during that last mission. Against his darker self. The invader from an alternate reality. A reality where the Wraith were ATA-enabled. A reality where Atlantis had fallen. A reality where John Sheppard was a darker, grimmer, harsher man. A dark mirror reflecting John's own inner demons.
"Is this someone's idea of a joke?" John Sheppard asked, holding up his fingers to display the ring before resting his hand on his thigh. "I don't have a wife. Not any more, that is," he muttered. A flash of resentment thinking of his former wife. That debacle of a relationship.
"You sent her to Earth! For her safety, and she is still your wife!" Rodney exclaimed.
"You really don't remember Moira?" asked Carson, consternation on his face.
"Who? Look, I had a wife years ago...Nancy. It ended. I haven't worn the ring in years, so this...what the hell is this?" John demanded, becoming angry.
"He does appear sincere," Teyla commented. She studied him carefully.
"How could you forget Moira? You did all of this for her!" Ronon bellowed.
"Are you sure he's the right one?" Elizabeth asked. A sudden suspicion forming.
"Yes! Of course he is! I'm his best friend! I would know!" But Rodney paused, the question jolting him. "Carson, he is our Sheppard, right?" he asked, confidence shaken recalling how identical the two John Sheppards had appeared. Both bloody, bruised, battered from their violent fight.
"Yes," Carson assured. "John has marks from a Wraith attack that the other one lacks. So yes, this is our Sheppard. Not to worry."
"How can he not remember Moira?" Rodney asked, perplexed.
"John, are you feeling all right? Carson?" Elizabeth eyed the doctor.
"I'm sure it's temporary," the doctor soothed, but worry lined his face.
"I'm fine!" John snapped, trying to get out of the bed. "We have work to do! We need to be sure that anomaly is closed and go to that planet to..." He winced, touching his ribs as pain flared. He sat back with a groan. "Crap."
"All right, take it easy, colonel. You need to recover before you do anything." Carson turned. "Go on, the lot of you. I'll brief you in a few. Go! Shoo!" He gestured with his hands. Reluctantly the others left, staring at John in disbelief. Exchanging glances with each other. Shaking their heads and speculating quietly. Carson turned back to John. "Easy, John. Rest. You need to recover, all right? Then we can get this sorted."
"Get what sorted? I don't know who this, this Moira is you keep talking about but I do know one thing, Carson. I am not married. Got it? I am never getting married again!" He grimaced, closed his eyes. "Damn I did a number on me...I mean he did...I mean I did...I mean..." His voice trailed off as Carson adjusted a sedative drip.
"Rest." Carson sighed. Moved to grab a scanner. Run some tests. All the while worry gnawing at him.
"It's obvious! We need to send for Moira!" Rodney declared, as they sat in Elizabeth's office. The scientist's hands were gesticulating wildly as emotion seized him. "Whatever this is once he sees her he will remember and be fine! He'll be fine! Good as new! No, better than new!"
"I agree," Elizabeth said, trying to remain calm amidst Rodney's histrionics, "but the Daedalus has already left Earth and is heading our way. We might be able to contact them en route and have them turn around to–"
"No." All turned as Carson entered the room. "We can't send for Moira. Not yet."
"Carson?" Elizabeth stared. Of all the people to make that decision she would guessed the doctor to be the very last. He had encouraged John and Moira's early courtship, their dating. Had shielded their relationship, had protected the couple when he could. But now he seemed to want them apart.
"Did you find anything?" Teyla asked.
"No. There is nothing physically wrong with him. No pressure on the brain, no damage to his medial temporal lobes or the hippocampus. His blood flow is normal. He has not had any seizures or other traumatic physical injury to his brain."
"So it's not medical. What then?" Elizabeth asked, arms folded on her desk.
"Maybe the anomaly did something to him," Ronon suggested.
"No. I mean it wouldn't affect him in any way like that. It doesn't work that way. It would have no affect whatsoever on the brain or its functioning," Rodney assured.
"Perhaps the other Sheppard did something?" Teyla suggested.
"No," Carson assured. "John's blood work is clear. No toxins. Nothing that doesn't belong there, no medications other than what I am giving him. No benzodiazepines or any premedicants. His system is clean. And what I am giving him would not cause this."
"What does that leave? Oh no...you don't think..." Elizabeth stared. Shook her head.
"Think? Think what? You just said there's nothing wrong with him!" Rodney declared, worrying anew for his friend.
"You believe this is self-induced," Teyla concluded.
"Aye," Carson sighed. Shook his head. "It's the only explanation. I think he is still protecting her."
"How? By forgetting her?" Ronon asked, dubious.
"Yes."
"How?" Rodney echoed, shaking his head. "That makes no sense!"
"I believe John is suffering from lacunar amnesia." At their blank looks the doctor continued. "It is the loss of memory of one specific event, although in John's case it is the loss of memory of one specific person. I don't know what when on between his darker self and himself...besides the obvious physical violence I believe whatever words, whatever buried memories were inflicted they did great harm. I suspect there are some very dark things in John's past. Things that seemingly came to life with this dark side version of himself."
"What? Are you suggesting that John is, is evil?" Elizabeth asked. Her voice a hush, eyes wide with shock at the very thought.
"Och, no! We all have things in our past we would rather forget. John more so, I suspect. From failed missions. Secret ops. And whatever else is lurking. You know how reticent he is. He buries everything, doesn't he?"
"That's true," Rodney agreed. "He hardly talks about his family, his missions, his past. And can you believe he was married once? That was news to me."
"That was news to us all," Teyla agreed. "Carson, you believe this buried past has turned into a kind of, of poison?"
"Yes. A buried psyche coming to life to bait you, to taunt you with your innermost guilt, fear, thoughts...it's a wonder John isn't more affected," Carson noted.
"Wait. How does that include protecting Moira?" Ronon asked.
"He's blocked all memory of her. Keeping her safe. Who knows how the darker Sheppard reacted when he found her gone? Completely out of his reach. No doubt he taunted John about it. About their relationship. About everything. He locked her away to be safe. So deeply that even he can't find her. At the moment."
"Then if we bring her back to him he will remember! Once he sees her–" Rodney began.
"No. That could be worse. And I won't put Moira through that. I won't have her reunited with John only to have him treat her like a stranger. It would break her heart," Carson declared.
"Then what? We inundate him with stories of Moira? Her things? Keep telling him all about her until he–"
"No, Rodney. That won't work either. In fact that may make it worse as well. He'll reject her, resent our intrusion into a part of his life he doesn't even believe yet. What's worse, he may build those walls so high around the memory of her that when Moira does return even she may not be able to breach them. No...he needs to remember on his own."
"Without our prompting?" Ronon asked.
"Yes. Mention her in passing, as if he did remember. As if everything was normal. But do not try to force him to remember. We have two weeks before the Daedalus gets here, aye?" At Elizabeth's nod Carson continued. "That should be enough time for John to remember on his own. Only he can break down those walls he's built around her. Around the memory of her."
"We wait? Treat him as normal. As if everything was back to normal?"
"Yes, Rodney. I cannot stress the importance of this. Of acting as if nothing was wrong. John will remember, but it must be on his own."
John blinked. Blinked. Moved on the bed. Felt sore, aching muscles protesting. Ignoring them he hauled himself into a seated position. Looked around the deserted infirmary. Shifted, feeling the bruises on his torso. Bandages on his leg. One on his brow. He looked at the gold wedding ring again. Shook his head. Touched it, fully intending to remove it. To return it to whomever had placed it there as a joke.
But something stopped him. His fingers halted on the cold metal. Unable to slide it past his knuckle, off his finger. He sighed, freed it. Decided he would remove it later once he learned who had placed it there. And why.
"John! What are you doing? You need to be resting!" Carson rushed to the bed, shaking his head and clucking like a mother hen.
John shrugged. Winced. "I feel fine, doc. Just sore. Tired. Can I go to my quarters, at least? You know I can't sleep on these beds." He patted the hard cot for emphasis.
Carson considered. "You need to rest, colonel. Heal. If I have to tie you to the bed I will in order to make certain you rest and recover. Although I believe that was Moira's purview," he added with a smile. Testing gently. Blue eyes studying covertly.
John's expression soured. "That name again? I don't know what you are talking about, doc, or who. I think if I had a wife I would remember her, wouldn't I? So...can I go to my quarters?"
"Aye. As long as you promise me to rest. Come on, I'll lend you a hand."
John frowned. Carefully got out of the bed. "I know where my own room is and I am not an invalid," he grumbled. Nevertheless he leaned on the other man as he made his way out of the infirmary. Slippers sliding on the floor.
They reached the room. Entered. John stood, walked slowly to the bed. Looked round. Stared at the open threshold between his room and another. "What the hell is that?"
"Go see for yourself, colonel," Carson invited. Watching for any sign of recognition. Any sign of distress or pain.
John scowled. Walked to the opening. Crossed the threshold and stared in surprise at the fully furnished room. The bigger bed. A woman's possessions dominating. A table filled with now wilting, dying roses of all shades, all hues. Dry petals mere husks littering the floor. "What the hell is this?" he repeated, staring round.
"Your wife's room. The roses...you always give her roses. Particularly if you are in trouble."
"What? If I had a wife, which I don't, by the way, we would share the same room," John argued, shaking his head.
"You do. You share this room with her. That bed." Carson pointed.
John moved to it. Sat. "Damn...this is comfy. No. The roses? I don't do that. I'm not the hearts and flowers guy. Never have been," he argued.
"You are. For her," Carson countered.
John licked his lips. Looked round. "Why are there no wedding photos? No photos at all?"
"You didn't have time. It was a quick wedding on Earth before you had to return here. No time for photos."
"Yeah, right. Like a woman would agree to that kind of thing. A quickie wedding with no foo-foo, no pomp and circumstance," he grumbled.
"Moira did."
"Yeah, whatever." He laid back, sighed. "Damn...maybe I married this chick for her bed."
Carson smiled. Recognizing the familiar joke that John and Moira shared. "Maybe. I'll leave you to rest now, John. Come see me in an hour. And get something to eat, all right? I'll need to monitor your progress but I'd say within a few weeks I will be able to release you to active duty."
"Okay. Thanks, doc." John was still sprawled on the bed, enjoying the comfort. The large bed big enough for him. Long enough so his feet didn't dangle over the edge as he scooted up to the pillows. He stared at the ceiling, hands folded at his waist. Relaxing. Thinking of nothing. Feeling nothing. Falling into a peaceful doze at long last.