Shattered
The soft caress of darkness withdrew. Faintly, he became aware of the murmur of voices; the hum of life around him. He swallowed hard against a painfully dry throat and managed a quiet moan. The scuffle of feet to his left gave him something to focus his slowly recovering attention on and he carefully peeled open his eyes. The face that met his gaze held an odd expression of worry mixed with relief. Dark curls brushed her shoulders and her green eyes were intent on his.
He blinked sluggishly and stared hard at her. Deep inside, a nagging whisper told him he should know her and her expression spoke of a closeness; intimate in its familiarity. His head was groggy and it hurt. Any sort of words escaped him.
"John? Just relax. You're in the infirmary. Carson's on his way."
He blinked again; a slow, languid action and inhaled deeply.
"John?" The worry in her expression intensified with the wrinkle that formed on her brow. "John, can you understand me?"
He didn't know where his voice was, so he settled for a slight nod, his head brushing against his pillow.
A small smile creased her face and drove back the worry lines. "Okay. That's good. Can't expect you to be ready to jump out of bed, at least not yet."
A warm softness covered his hand and he slowly looked down, to find hers gripping his knuckles. He swallowed hard, his scattered thoughts starting to come together. It was there again, that intimacy, that closeness... something that heralded a friendship that was so much more than what he remembered... what he knew. He tensed, feeling painfully uncomfortable as his gaze left her hand and found her face.
He watched her stiffen in reaction to what he knew she saw, but he couldn't find the words or his voice to say anything. He was uncomfortable... confused... maybe even a little scared, and he let his eyes tell her, somehow knowing she was astute in her ability to silently observe. The warmth of her hand was replaced by cool air as she withdrew her grasp.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice laced with confusion.
John felt his brow wrinkle as a wave of guilt passed over him. He glanced away for a minute before looking back at her his gaze questioning.
She smiled slightly. "It's okay, John, you've been through a lot. Don't worry about anything right now, except getting better."
It was at that point he realized his head felt strange... constricted. But, he didn't have a chance to think more on it before movement caught his attention. A kind looking man in a white doctor's coat walked towards his bed. Behind him, were a pretty brunette woman, a huge, imposing man and another average sized man. They all seemed concerned; and looked at him with expressions that spoke the same familiarity as the woman's.
John felt like he wanted to sink into his bed and escape. Confusion swarmed over him and with it, fear. The place was strange, the people were strange; nothing was recognizable and it scared the hell out of him. He tensed, trying to keep rein on his fear, but somehow, they knew.
The kind looking man stopped next to his bed and looked up at a monitor for a moment, before smiling at him in a reassuring way. "Aye, easy son," the man soothed in an accented voice, "you're all right."
John opened his mouth, tried to say something, but his actions were wordless and it only added to his disoriented fear. He felt a light sweat break out on his forehead as he pulled in a ragged breath.
"Carson? What is it?"
The average sized man's voice was taunt... worried. Somehow, John knew it was unusual.
Carson turned and looked back. "All of ye need to leave."
"Carson..." the dark haired woman started.
"Now, Elizabeth," Carson's voice was gentle but firm. I'll come talk to ye in a bit."
John's looked at her and he saw her hesitation, but after a moment she nodded slightly and turned to the others. His gaze followed hers.
The brunette smiled slightly, her expression full of compassion and caring but he found no comfort from it. The large man's face was an unreadable mask and the other man looked clearly uncomfortable. They all followed the woman… Elizabeth, leaving him alone with… Carson?
Confusion swarmed over John. He inhaled loudly through his nose once and then again, as he tried to rein in an instinctive, confused fear that pushed at his weak control. He stared the kind man… Carson, in the eyes and saw only understanding empathy.
Carson reached back, grabbed a stool and sat down next to the bed. He looked John over for a minute. Oddly, John felt a comfort from his presence, a trust that was inherent. He felt relief to be almost alone again, to not have so many gazes on him, expecting something that he couldn't give. He took a deeper, slower breath as Carson once again looked at his face, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"John? Son, do ye remember me?" Carson asked quietly.
Confusion laced with apprehension once again flowed through John. He squeezed his eyes shut his face twisting into a grimace. A compassionate grip squeezed his shoulder and he opened his eyes in response, to find Carson staring intently at him.
"'Tis all right, lad. I suspected this might happen."
As quickly as it found him, Carson's hand left John's shoulder. "Relax, John. Ye need your rest."
John felt as tight as a bowstring ready to snap. His confusion ran deep and left fear in its wake. He pulled in a tense, loud breath, then another. Alone. He just needed to be alone. To figure out what was happening… to try and remember… his gaze followed Carson around the bed as he grabbed a syringe and pulled up some medication.
Carson held the syringe close to the IV port and smiled down at John. "It'll help you sleep. Right now that's what ye need." His smiled deepened into a gentle, reassuring one. "I know you're confused right now." His hand made no move towards the IV and his gaze never left John's. "Trust me. I want to help ye. Will you let me?"
John couldn't tear his eyes from Carson's. Somewhere, deep inside him a voice told him to listen; told him to trust Carson… told him it'd be okay. Silently… slowly, John nodded.
Carson nodded once and turned back to the IV where he quickly injected the medicine.
John never took his eyes from the gentle doctor as a warm, relaxing feeling swept through him, driving away his fear and anxiety and leaving only a comfortable drowsiness behind. His eyelids felt heavy and longed to close. The last thing John saw, was Carson's kind face staring back at him.
"Sleep, son."
Carson's gentle voice lulled him and John succumbed.
-------------------------
Carson sighed quietly as he watched John's eyes close and his body relax into the bed. He stood there for a minute, watching John's sleeping form. For the past week, while they'd all waited anxiously for John to awaken, so many scenarios had played over in Carson's mind. He'd done every test he could but ultimately he knew the extent of John's head injury could never be ascertained until the colonel woke up. And now that he had...
Carson shook his head. Uncertainty, fear and confusion had all been dominant in John's face. Even without being able to speak, Carson knew the trauma his brain had experienced had lasting effects on him. How much, he didn't know, not yet, but Carson was almost sure retrograde amnesia was a factor. What other motor or cognitive skills the colonel had lost still had to be determined.
Like a bad horror movie, flashbacks a week ago raced across his mind. Teyla's desperate hail that the colonel had been injured... Running through the gate to find her breathing for him, her technique keeping him alive while Ronon and even Rodney stood guard... The colonel motionless... limp on a fast moving gurney, his head wrapped in a blood soaked field bandage and c-spine immobilized and secured to a backboard. His pale face... The ambu bag the only thing keeping him breathing as they burst into the infirmary...
Carson shook off the memories and watched John a moment longer. It'd been ten days before they had been able to wean John off the ventilator and extubate him, allowing the colonel to breathe on his own. Close shave with death didn't even begin to explain what he had experienced. Satisfied his patient was resting quietly for now, Carson slowly pulled back the privacy curtain and walked out into the infirmary. He shut the curtain behind him and waved his medic, Carolyn Lansing, over to him. "Carolyn, love, I want one person on days and one on nights assigned to Colonel Sheppard. I don't want a parade of different people tending to him. He needs some consistency right now."
Carolyn nodded silently. "Is he okay, Carson?"
Carson pursed his lips. "Don't know yet. At the least it appears he has memory loss."
Carolyn nodded again. "I'll see to it."
Carson left her and walked towards Elizabeth and the others who waited not so patiently on the far side of the infirmary. His smile was thin... strained as he walked up to them.
"Carson?" Elizabeth, as usual, was the first to speak.
"I gave him something to help him sleep; it's the best thing right now," Carson responded. "He'll be out for a few hours at least, probably longer."
Elizabeth nodded slightly. "How is he?"
Carson glanced away for a moment before looking back at her. "It's hard to tell yet. But, he seemed reasonably aware for someone in his condition. Right now, I'm taking that as a good sign. We'll know more once he's had some time to get a little stronger."
"He did not speak," Teyla interjected. "But, I believe he wanted to." Her voice was worried.
Carson nodded. "Aye, that's not uncommon. Coma patients often can't speak when they first wake. The speech center can take a wee bit to recover."
"He seemed... lost," Elizabeth interrupted quietly. Her brows furrowed at him. "Carson, he looked scared." Her voice was slightly disbelieving.
Carson swallowed. "He was... or rather he is. He's confused too and probably a bit anxious. I won't know for sure until I can test him further, but I suspect he's suffering from retrograde amnesia."
"Oh my god," Rodney interjected, "he doesn't know who we are, does he?"
"No, Rodney, he doesn't. "Carson affirmed. "I asked him. He doesn't remember any of us."
"How did that happen?" Ronon's voice was disbelieving in its intensity.
"Retrograde amnesia can be a side effect of brain trauma like the colonel experienced," Carson sighed. "Often large parts of their memory are missing. As I said, I won't know the extent until I can test him further."
"That's why," Elizabeth whispered. When Carson looked at her she continued. "I... I touched his hand when he first woke It seemed to make him uncomfortable."
"Aye, it would," Carson nodded. "Amnesia patients often have a hard time dealing with people that were once close to them. They can't remember so to them it's like a perfect stranger or a barely known acquaintance walking up and hugging them or doing anything personal. It's a very uncomfortable situation for them." Carson smiled thinly at her. "And for you. You can't take it personally, Elizabeth."
She smiled back. "No. No I don't. It makes perfect sense."
Carson sighed loudly. "He's going to be out for quite a while. None of you are doing any good here."
"Is that your not so subtle way of telling us to leave?" Rodney answered, his voice holding a slight note of familiar sarcasm; something they hadn't heard much of from him since the T'eshii grenade nearly killed John.
"Aye," Carson responded directly. "I know for a fact none of you have been getting enough sleep. I'm ordering you all to eat and rest."
It was Elizabeth that acquiesced first. "Point taken. Keep us posted." She squeezed his forearm gently.
"I will. Off you go." Carson stood his ground as the four of them silently left the infirmary. As the door closed behind them, he turned and walked back to John's private corner. Carefully pulling back the curtain, Carson walked into the secluded area and pulled it shut behind him. He walked around the bed to the stool, still sitting next to John and sat down. He folded his hands on his lap and stared at the colonel. It was a long time before he left.