None so Blind
When Team Sheppard emerged from the event horizon after another mission to check out an Ancient energy source, everything appeared normal at first.
Elizabeth Weir breathed a sigh of relief as she descended the steps to greet the team. It quickly became clear that everything was not normal. For one, the team was unusually quiet – no bickering between Sheppard and McKay, no litany of complaints from the physicist.
Reaching them, she noticed Teyla supporting Rodney, speaking gently as she guided him along. His steps were slow, hesitant – as if he didn't know where he was going.
"Welcome home," she said tightly, catching Sheppard's' eye, but her gaze sliding back to Rodney.
"McKay got zapped by some Ancient beam. Seemed okay at first, but he started complaining it was getting dark, even though it's midday back there."
Elizabeth nodded. "Then you'd better get him to Carson."
Later that day, Rodney perched on a gurney awaiting the results of the battery of tests he'd been subjected to. Though he could hear the familiar sounds, feel the rasp of bed sheets under his hands, smell the antiseptic, the fact that he couldn't verify any of the evidence visually left him tense and jittery. Or maybe that was another side-effect of that damn ancient beam. He knew that Teyla, Ronon and Sheppard wouldn't be far away, but he appreciated the steady stream of banter between Sheppard and Ronon – it helped ground him. Teyla added her own calming observation from time to time.
"Rodney, it's Carson here." He jumped slightly as the doctor's voice came from somewhere to his left.
"Yes, obviously it's you. No-one else -," he grumbled, attempting to cover his discomfort with his usual sarcasm.
"No need to get personal," Carson replied mildly. "I've got your test results and I'm glad to say I can't find any physical cause for your loss of vision and partial paralysis."
"Paralysis?" Rodney squeaked.
"Haven't you realised you've been clutching Teyla's arm the whole time you've been here?"
"I must admit that my arm is somewhat numb," Teyla replied.
"So if it isn't physical, what is it?" Sheppard cut in.
"Dr Beckett called me in as this more my area."
"Heightmeyer? Are you saying this is all in my head?"
"Hello Dr McKay." Kate Heightmeyer's voice. "Given your test results, Carson believed that there might be a psychological cause for your symptoms.
"You appear to be suffering from something we call conversion disorder. Sometimes, when a person experiences trauma or is under a great deal of stress, it can trigger physiological symptoms affecting the senses and movement, such as loss of vision or hearing, paralysis, difficulty walking."
"So this really is all in my head?"
"C'mon, McKay, you've had your joke. Knock it off so I can go get lunch," Ronon said.
Rodney glared in what he hoped was Ronon's direction. "Of course, always thinking of your stomach. Never mind I might never see again."
"It's quite possible your sight will return in time, Rodney." Carson replied.
"Is there a cure?" Sheppard cut in.
"We can create a programme of cognitive behavioural therapy, counselling and some physiotherapy. I'm afraid there's no silver bullet for this one."
"Even more voodoo," Rodney muttered.
"It should go without saying that you'll be staying here overnight. I want to make sure no further symptoms or side effects develop. Provided I'm happy, I'll release you, on the understanding you get plenty of rest and avoid stress."
"Are you kidding, Carson? My job is stress incarnate."
"Who said anything about going back to work, buddy?" Sheppard again
"Oh, I'm going to lose my mind…" Rodney groaned, collapsing sideways on to the bed in defeat.
"On the bright side, it's nearly lunchtime. I'll have one of the nurses order you a tray."
Carson patted him on the shoulder, then headed off.
"Listen Rodney, I gotta go debrief with Elizabeth, will you be okay?"
"I'm going for lunch," Ronon announced.
"I will stay here; keep Rodney company," Teyla said.
"Thanks, Teyla. I'll catch you two later," Sheppard again.
Rodney waved a limp hand as the sound of two pairs of boots clumping out of the Infirmary faded. He felt Teyla's hand gently take his.
"Try not to worry, Rodney. I will make sure you are not left alone."
SGA
Rodney's symptoms proved to be stable for the time being and Carson released him as promised the following day. Deciding that he could follow doctor's orders at least for a few hours, he rolled into bed and fell asleep for most of the day. He woke sometime in the early evening, when Sheppard came to take him to the mess hall and make sure Rodney ate.
Having shrugged into clothes, he set off in what he thought was the direction of the nearest transporter.
"Hey McKay, where you goin'? Transporter's this way," Sheppard called, most likely cocking a thumb over his shoulder.
"Yes, I know. I'm just checking out the corridor."
"Sure thing, buddy. You need any help?"
"I'm perfectly capable of getting to the transporter myself," Rodney snapped.
"Okay, I'll meet you there."
Using Sheppard's voice to orient himself, Rodney turned around and made his way slowly to where the transporter should be. Fortunately the doors slid open with a just audible 'ping'. Huh, when had Atlantis started sounding like a Hudson's Bay elevator?
"Sheppard, did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"I thought the door just pinged."
"No, can't say I heard anything."
"I must have imagined it. Forget I said anything," Rodney mumbled.
He felt, rather than saw the flash as the transporter whisked them to the mess hall.
Once the doors opened, again with the tiny 'ping', what sounded like a herd of adolescent elephants heading to an all you can eat leaf buffet assaulted Rodney's ears. He clapped his hands over them, trying to block out the noise, cringing backwards.
He felt Sheppard's hand grip his elbow, dragging him away into a quieter corridor. As the noise subsided to a bearable level, he gingerly uncovered his ears.
"You with me, Rodney?" Sheppard asked, hand still on Rodney's elbow. "What happened back there?" He could visualise the concern on the Colonel's face.
Rodney jogged his arm, dislodging Sheppard. Part of him wanted the contact, an anchor in this bizarre, dark world he found himself in. Another knew he had to stay independent if there was any chance of him getting back to work.
"I'm fine; it's just really loud, is all."
"It didn't seem any worse than a usual Monday evening," Sheppard remarked.
"Guess I've forgotten – I haven't made it to the mess on time for weeks."
"You ready to go back out there or somewhere quieter?"
"No, I'm good. I can do this," Rodney said firmly, squaring his shoulders and turning back towards the main corridor.
It had quietened down somewhat, but he flinched involuntarily, anticipating auditory overload. It still seemed loud, but tolerable compared to the previous wall of sound. He had a sudden sense of Sheppard being right beside him, though he hadn't registered any movement from the colonel. Huh, weird, he thought. He couldn't decide if it was just one of those team things, like knowing Sheppard always had his back on missions, or whether his senses were growing sharper – compensating for his loss of sight. He'd dismissed cases of people claiming to experience such things as complete rubbish – branding the subjects as self-delusional idiots at best. He told himself it was just an after effect of whatever voodoo potions he'd been dosed with in the infirmary.
SGA
The next couple of weeks passed slowly for Rodney. Teyla, Ronon and Sheppard kept him company as much as possible, but they all had their own duties and responsibilities and couldn't spend every waking moment at his side. Even Elizabeth and Carson would drop by during off-duty moments. Truth be told, he was getting pretty sick of being baby-sat all the time and growing thoroughly bored without work as a distraction. Physical therapy and sessions with Heightmeyer failed to fill his time sufficiently, and although his hands were showing promising signs of improvement, there was no such improvement in his vision.
During his last 'catch-up' with Elizabeth, she'd begun to suggest that he might want to consider heading back to Earth. "There's no shame in taking medical leave, Rodney," she'd said. He'd near enough told her where to stick her suggestion. She'd pretended she hadn't heard, but simply fixed him with that look that said the conversation wasn't nearly over, and left with typical grace. Even he knew he'd crossed a line there.
He'd taken to spending more time away from the prying eyes of the rest of the expedition members. Sure, he couldn't actually see their curious glances, but he imagined he could feel them staring. He knew he wasn't imagining the whispers or suddenly silenced conversations as he walked past.
At this particular moment, he'd chosen to hole up in his private lab where it was unlikely anyone would bother him. Even at the best of times, it was only the bravest or most foolhardy scientist that would venture into his lair if they valued their career or sanity. The rest of team Sheppard had left that morning on an overnight mission, so he wouldn't see anyone else for several hours and that was perfectly fine with him, thank you very much. It definitely didn't feel like the time in grade five when he'd been the only kid left behind while the rest of the class went on a day-trip, because his mom forgot to sign the permission slip. No, it definitely didn't feel like that. Besides, he was on the verge of a breakthrough.
Muttering to himself, he stood in front of several whiteboards, dry-wipe marker in one hand, the other thrust into a pocket. As he muttered, symbols began to form themselves into a recognisable pattern – proving his mind still worked, even if his eyes didn't. He might not be able to see the boards directly, but he'd be damned if he couldn't write a formula using muscle memory.
"Zelenka, Zelenka! Are you there? I've solved it!" Rodney yelled into his earpiece an hour later, barely able to contain himself from bouncing across the lab.
"Yes, McKay, no need to shout. I am on radio, not other side of universe with tin-can and string telephone," came the weary reply. "What have you solved?"
"It's amazing, I've outdone myself this time. I know how to boost jumper efficiency by 35%."
"Really? We've only managed 9% so far."
Ha, that got the weaselly little Czech's attention!
"Oh yes!" Rodney crowed. "Come down to my lab and see for yourself,"
"Rodney, why don't you…"
Rodney cut the connection, feeling smug. He'd still got it!
Zelenka arrived a while later, sounding a little winded. He really should get out more, Rodney thought meanly.
"Where is this marvellous breakthrough?" Zelenka groused.
"Read it and weep, my friend."
There was silence for several minutes. "Rodney, none of this makes sense."
"What? Of course it does – I wrote it."
Zelenka cleared his throat. "Rodney, I'm sorry, this is gibberish. Is not even legible."
"But I wrote it all down!"
"Is just, how do you say?... scribble. Is nothing to read here."
Rodney felt behind himself for a stool, sinking on to it. "I was so sure I had it. Read it again."
"I regret that I cannot. Would you like me to call Carson for you?" Zelenka asked gently.
"No. Just leave me alone," Rodney snapped. Sympathy was the last thing he needed.
Radek gave an exasperated huff, followed by a stream of Czech invective as he strode out of the lab.
SGA
After the utter embarrassment of failing to beat Zelenka at his own game, Rodney withdrew further into himself. He joined the others for meals and team nights, but it just wasn't quite the same. Sheppard and Ronon still took turns to bait and tease him, Teyla was her usual calming self, but he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a gulf between them, as if he were a lonely comet held in distant orbit by the gravity of a trinary star system.
To be fair to Radek, he seemed to have kept his mouth shut about the incident, but Rodney was sure it would come back to haunt him someday in the middle of an argument. Radek had also helped Rodney set up voice recognition software so that he could dictate at least some of his ideas and thoughts. Maybe it was time to dust off that memoir?
Meanwhile, he had regained full use of his hands and the physical therapist had released him from her clutches to the utter relief of both parties. If he never saw that harridan again it would be too soon.
He also discovered that he could walk around the city without a guide. When he heard the transporter 'ping' that first time, he'd dismissed it as the drugs giving him hallucinations, but it turned out to be the first of several similar instances. He would set off along a corridor with a destination in mind, then feel a distinctive pull in a specific direction when he reached a junction. If he followed the feeling, nine times out of ten he would end up where he wanted to be. A few times he'd stubbornly refused to comply and found himself in a remote part of the city, having to radio for assistance. Ronon was still teasing him about that.
When he'd tried to broach the subject with Sheppard, the colonel had seemed sceptical to say the least, suggesting that Rodney might want to go and have a little chat with Heightmeyer and her comfortable couch. Rodney had almost 'seen' the 'let's not anger the crazy person' look on his friends' face, so he'd kept it to himself, wondering if losing his sight was just the beginning of a downward spiral.
SGA
The dreams began about a month after Rodney's encounter with the Ancient beam. At first they were disjointed – brief flashes of colour and light, an unfamiliar face, Ancient ruins. He would wake sweating, gasping for air and aching as if he'd just run ten miles with the Marine contingent. The physical pain subsided quickly, but he was left with a deep sense of loss and sadness for most of the following day. By the fourth night he'd had enough.
He dragged on the first clothes he could find and marched off to the infirmary, his personal guidance system working overtime. It had become second nature now, almost as if he was a part of Atlantis. Or Atlantis was part of him, he was a little fuzzy on that. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he should be worried about the situation – after all, look how the human/machine combination had worked out for the Daleks and Cybermen, but he was strangely okay with it all.
"Carson? Carson? Where are you?" he demanded as he reached the infirmary.
"Right behind you," the doctor replied.
"Jeez, don't creep up on me like that. You could give me a heart attack." Annoyingly, the guidance system hadn't come with an in-built life signs detector. Maybe he could ask for an upgrade.
"You'd be in the right place," Carson muttered. "Now what can I do for you this evening?"
"Scan me," Rodney ordered, hauling himself onto the open scanner bed and lying down.
"You're due for a scan the day after tomorrow. Has something happened I should know about?" Carson asked, immediately professional.
"I'm not sure, but humour me?"
"All right. Hold still," Carson replied.
A moment later, the scanner began to move, the mechanical buzz echoing around the quiet infirmary, then fading as the arm returned to its starting position.
"Everything looks normal to me, Rodney. Is there anything you want to tell me?"
Rodney sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
"It's just that I've been having these dreams lately and I wake up feeling…lost, I suppose."
"Nightmares?"
"No, just vivid, but really confusing."
"I can prescribe you some sleeping pills, otherwise you're best off talking to Kate."
"Just give me the pills."
Rodney heard keys clink together and the snick of the lock on the drugs cabinet.
"Here you go." Carson pressed two pills in blister packs into Rodney's outstretched hand. "No driving or operating heavy machinery, you hear?"
"Shouldn't be a problem. Thank you, Carson." Rodney hopped off the bed.
"Don't mention it, Rodney. Sleep well."
SGA
Rodney woke with his heart pounding, covered in sweat and fighting raging nausea. He heaved in great gulps of air, desperately trying to gather his thoughts into some kind of rational order. He'd had the dream again, that much was clear, but this time the confusion and loss was overwhelmed by fear and pain. Dammit, every instinct told him Atlantis was in danger, on the verge of destruction and yet, there were no alarms, nobody yelling through the radio or frantically paging him to the control room. The logical, rational part of his brain began to take over, slowing his breathing and pulse to a more sensible pace.
The dream. Yeah, that was it - just a stupid dream. Well, more like a nightmare with 3D, Technicolor and surround sound. He'd felt like he was in a war-zone; Atlantis burning, Ancients running towards him, begging him for help. A blonde Ancient calling his name; as if she knew him well. But the most unnerving part of the experience was the fact that he could see – not a half-assed visualisation in his mind's eye, but actually see with his own eyes.
Now back in the reality of his own room, he knew his eyes were open, but it was still dark. He thought the light on, hoping that maybe it hadn't been a dream. Disappointment twisted in his gut as he thought on/off several times and his world remained dark.
He reached across to the nightstand, fumbled his radio over his ear and tapped it on.
"McKay to control."
"This is Chuck. Can I help you, Dr McKay?"
"Is everything okay up there?"
"Yes, sir. Everything is fine. Uh, do you need anything?"
"No, it's nothing. Carry on."
"Will do, sir." The technician signed off.
Rodney lay down, trying to get back to sleep. But no matter what he did, the images of Atlantis dying around him kept intruding.
"Fine, I'm up. What do you want?" he asked the room. Well, it was no crazier than the rest of the things that had happened to him this last month.
To his utter lack of surprise, there was no response.
Grumpily, he got dressed and stomped off to the nearest transporter, intending to make sure the morons in Stargate Operations were doing their jobs properly, and if they weren't they were all about to get the dressing-down of their lives.
As soon as he exited the transporter, he knew he wasn't anywhere near the gateroom. He couldn't explain it, just knew that it felt wrong. He turned around, trying to get his bearings. Hang on, this was the corridor to the Chair room. Why had the transporter brought him here? He wanted the control room. He took a step back towards the doors and was thrust back into the nightmare Atlantis for a moment. The heat took his breath away, then he was back in the dark corridor, fighting for control again.
He glanced around, more a reflex than anything else. Just ahead to his left, there seemed to be a break in the darkness – one rectangular patch that appeared less dense than the rest. He was here now, he decided; might as well investigate. He groaned, sounding extra loud to himself. This was exactly the sort of idiotic thing Sheppard would do.
He shuffled forward expecting to hit a wall. Instead, the lighter patch was in fact the door of the chair room and he made it through without a hitch.
Once inside he felt his way over to the chair, starting it up first time. If he could just connect with Atlantis, maybe he could work out what the hell was going on.
A rush of information, images, data streams and millions of other unknowable things flooded his brain, threatening to overload it if he couldn't focus on what he was looking for.
What the hell is going on? he yelled in desperation. The data stopped, and for a moment he thought this was it – his brain had finally exploded and he was dead. Or maybe this was how it felt for non-geniuses. Hmm, it was kind of peaceful, but he'd hoped for more hot blondes if this was really the afterlife. Not that he really bought any of that bull.
DoctorMckayRodney.
Was someone calling him. Jeez, he couldn't even have five minutes peace when he was dead.
You are notdead.
Who said that?
You knowme as Atlantis.
Atlantis. The city was talking to him?
Yes. Only one who heard.
Why me? Rodney thought, as if he had conversations in his mind with barely coherent city-ships every day.
Only one. Others could not hear or see me. Too blind.
"But I can't see either," he said.
Your mind more open. Not consumed by survival.
"Okay, assuming I haven't completely lost my marbles and this whole month hasn't been the trippiest side effect of a drug-induced coma ever, what do you want?"
Need help. Dying. Will die. DoctorMcKayRodney can repair.
"McKay, are you in the chair right now?" Sheppard's voice sliced into Rodney's mind, dragging him away from Atlantis. "Because there are systems going critical all over the city and everyone else with the gene is accounted for. What are you doing?"
Rodney became aware of alarms and the faint, but worrying, way the city seemed to shudder around him.
"I'm talking to Atlantis. She says she's dying and I can help her."
"She?"
"Yes. Atlantis is sentient. Look, I don't have time to explain – I need to find out what the problem is and fix it."
"Rodney! This better not be a joke!" Sheppard growled.
"Can't talk. City to repair. McKay out."
The shuddering was getting worse. Whatever the problem was, time was running out.
Here goes nothing, he thought.
"Atlantis, show me the problem."
Another data stream swirled around him, more controlled than before, but still migraine inducing.
Then he saw the lines of binary code, broken algorithms. He shouldn't be able to understand this – it was beyond human comprehension.
How do I fix this? he asked.
Just think.
He thought, imagining the missing symbols appearing before him, slotting into their missing segments like a jigsaw puzzle. He laughed – it was all so obvious now. He began to reach out, searching for more, fingers seemingly grazing the edge of infinite knowledge, the universe stretching out before him.
Then he began to fall, fingers clutching, desperately trying to hold on as he dropped into an endless abyss.
SGA
When Rodney came to, he realised this wasn't the afterlife. Scratchy sheets, the beep of machinery, the tickle of oxygen at his nose and dear god, please not… oh yeah, there was the catheter. Very definitely not the afterlife.
Gingerly he opened one eye, then quickly shut it against the light. Hang on. Light. Light was good. He slowly opened both eyes. He realised he still couldn't actually see, but the darker patches were roughly person-shaped.
"Hey, Rip Van Winkle's decided to join us. Welcome back, buddy." Sheppard's easy drawl.
"It is good to see you awake." Teyla.
"Same." Ronon, ever economical with words.
"Good t' see you," Rodney croaked back, scratching at the cannula.
"Rodney, has your sight returned?" Teyla asked cautiously.
"Little bit, I think."
"That is good news indeed. I will call Carson."
"No, want to sleep, no torture."
"Very well, I will wait a while." The Teyla-shape settled back into the seat.
"You were pretty out of it when we found you, Rodney. Raving about hot blonde cities. Wanna elaborate?" Sheppard enquired.
"Mebbe later," Rodney mumbled. He wasn't sure he could explain any of it, for the moment. Once he'd sat in that chair, he'd realised Atlantis herself had been reaching out to him all along, he just hadn't been able to notice it. Losing his sight had forced him to see in a different way. Maybe it wasn't all bad – there was hope that his sight would return. Oh, and the other thing, he thought drowsily.
"Y'know what Sheppard? This time the girl picked me!"