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THE CONNECTION . . . Part 2
When John opened his eyes, he wasn't where he was supposed to be. This
wasn't the infirmary, although it definitely was a hospital of some
kind. There was a bed along the rear wall, right next to the window.
Standard hospital bed, blue sheets, and he could see the railing resting
along the frame.
How'd he get here? And where was here?
It wasn't until he started towards the door, that John realized he was
wearing scrubs. What the hell? They hadn't made him change earlier, and
Carson had agreed to let him leave, so what was going on?
Intending to find answers, Sheppard grasped the door knob and twisted.
In an ideal world, it would've opened. But this wasn't the ideal world,
this wasn't even the ideal galaxy. So, it wasn't much of a surprise
when it only turned a slight amount either direction. Locked.
John banged on the door and shouted, "Hey! Let me out!"
There was a window in the door, face level, and he peered through it,
seeing only an empty hall. He banged again, getting pissed. This wasn't
funny. One moment he'd been on Atlantis, standing next to
Elizabeth…Elizabeth! Shit, the nanites…what if he'd been infected after all?
His banging must have been heard, because he saw a man, tall and
somewhat lean, dressed in a dark blue suit come around a corner. A woman
dressed in baby blue scrubs, brunette hair, tailed behind him, and they
were coming at his door. Suddenly wary, John stepped back as he listened
to the jingle of keys being thrust into the lock.
The man entered, his bearded face greeting him politely. "Good morning,
Doctor Weir. I'm Doctor Adam Fletcher."
Doctor Weir? John looked behind him, confused, then back to the man. "I
think there's been some…mistake here." And the mistake was probably his.
John was pretty sure something to do with the nanites was going on. He
remembered when he'd been able to get into Elizabeth's hallucination,
her dreams, or whatever the hell it was…she'd been living a false
reality. Was it happening to him, did he pick up some kind of psychic
echoes of what she'd seen?
Doctor Fletcher considered him carefully, much the way his team had when
he'd been confused in the Asuran cell. When he'd been confused and they
hadn't known what he was talking about when he'd asked about how they'd
gotten recaptured after escaping. Well, he'd asked something along the
lines of wanting to know how they'd gotten back in the cell, and that's
when everyone had given him startled looks that let him know apparently
there had never been an escape.
"I'm sorry, Doctor Weir. There's been no mistake. You're in the acute
care unit of Willaby State Hospital."
John turned and stared again at the bed, then roamed his eyes around the
room, taking in the water fountain. "It's Sheppard," he said.
"Sheppard?"
Fletcher's eyes had narrowed, and he was studying John very carefully.
Too carefully.
"Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force." He walked
towards his bed, wanting to put some room between him and the doctor.
After he felt comfortable enough with the distance, he smiled
confidently. "I'm not Doctor Weir. And I don't belong here."
If it was a hallucination, he could handle it. John had been screwed
with before and had figured it out quick enough. Aliens were always
trying to mess with his head.
"I see," Fletcher replied. John had to hand it to him, the doctor wasn't
giving much away. He inhaled and stepped in a little more, leaving the
door slightly open, but John knew the nurse was there. "John, then. Do
you remember why you are here?"
"Because I must've got infected by nanites?" He made the guess with a
grimace.
"Nanites?" Fletcher's face remained blank, but he gestured at the door.
"Doc…John, why don't we discuss this in my office?"
"Colonel," John corrected. He also sat down. "I'd prefer to stay." If
this was something to do with Elizabeth, he figured maybe doing things
different, going against what this Fletcher wanted might change things
enough that he could wake up from this. He had uncomfortable visions of
his body on a gurney, clear plastic curtains draped all around.
Then again, maybe not, because Fletcher just shrugged and smiled.
"Whatever you prefer, John."
"Colonel."
Fletcher approached the window, after waving at the nurse to shut the
door and leave them alone. He leaned against the sill, folding his arms
across his chest. "You came here three days ago, after collapsing during
a speech. Do you remember?"
"No. Look, let's get to the point instead of wasting time. What happens
next?"
"I'm sorry?"
John shifted his attention to the door, wondering if it was unlocked. He
could make a run for it, and he'd probably make it, but he wanted to
avoid anything that might end up with him under tighter security. He
liked his freedom, being able to move around freely, and John wanted to
get a better feel for what was going on. This wasn't real, he was
convinced of that, and he was even more sure this was something from
Elizabeth. He'd touched her again…hadn't he? After he'd been released.
Was it possible she hadn't been nanite free at that point, despite what
Carson had thought with his scans? What if the nanites had been hiding
in her, waiting? Crap.
Rubbing his temple, John gestured at the door. "What happens now? Let's
just skip past the pleasantries and take me where she went next."
"If you like, you can speak to General O'Neill."
"O'Neill?" John straightened from his slump. "General O'Neill? He's here?"
That was…unexpected. Fletcher nodded, sliding off the window sill, and
moving towards the door. "Yes, you were working together on the UN
accord for non-nuclear proliferation." He knocked, and John heard the
nurse unlock the door. So, it had been locked…nice to know. After the
door was open, Fletcher talked to the nurse for a moment, then turned to
John. "Come with me."
He debated not going. But, then again, he was curious. John felt kind of
like a voyeur into Elizabeth's thoughts, or, hallucinations,
whatever…yet, if he'd been infected somehow, if this was like what she'd
gone through, then he needed to know as much as he could find out. John
didn't know what was going on, he didn't know if Carson was trying to
get him through this, hell, Elizabeth had said it'd seemed like a
lifetime…what if he was still standing next to her bed, touching her
arm, and it'd been only seconds? That was a scary thought.
John followed Fletcher out the door.
OoO
He paid attention to the hallways, the personnel he saw, as Fletcher led
him to what seemed like some kind of community room. There were other
patients, some playing cards, an easel and couches.
"Why don't you sit, get comfortable, and General O'Neill should be here
soon."
John thought about saying that was awfully convenient. That a General
could just drop everything they were doing, and rush over to visit the
mentally disturbed, but then again, this wasn't real. He was a little
surprised that O'Neill hadn't just magically appeared out of thin air in
front of him.
Still staring at the room, John nodded absently. "Sure."
There was a door, and the man standing near it in white didn't look like
he was there just to warm the floor. So, it wasn't going to be as simple
as walking out of here if he wanted to. John aimed for the window,
pushing his fingers through the slats to create enough of a hole to peek
outside. A parking lot was below. Boring, and didn't tell him nothing
new. Disappointed, he let the slats snick back into place, and turned
back to the room.
He really shouldn't have been surprised to see O'Neill striding towards
him. Got to love hallucinations.
"Doctor Weir," greeted O'Neill.
John stared at him. Then he tilted his head a little, curious. "What do
you see?"
"What?"
"What do you see," repeated John.
O'Neill had his Air Force hat in one hand, and he looked slightly
disturbed by the question. He smiled tightly and said, "Thank you, I
believe I will have a seat."
John fought off the urge to roll his eyes. "Sir, I'm not Doctor Weir.
I'm Colonel Sheppard. We met at McMurdo, when I flew you to the Ancient
outpost. I'm in some kind of…" he trailed off seeing the 'this person's
nuts' expression steal across O'Neill's face. "You don't believe me."
John sat on the couch opposite O'Neill. "Why would you, this is her
hallucination, after all. So, what do you have to say? Glad I'm getting
help, hope I get better, what?"
"Colonel Sheppard," repeated O'Neill, skeptically. He kind of waved his
hat towards John. "Sure, I can go with that. So, how can I help?"
"You can get me out of here."
O'Neill chuckled and leaned back. "As much as I could use you in the
negotiations, I'd prefer to wait until you're not going to collapse on
me again."
Biting back the urge to retort he hadn't collapsed, John stared at
O'Neill, trying to think of what next. That's when O'Neill's head seemed
to warp, shake, mutate, and for a moment, it was a dark blur of
something…what the hell? Then, O'Neill's head was back to normal, and
the general was staring at him enigmatically.
"Okay," John said. He stood, backed away, because that…that was a little
freaky. The nanites? What? It was the first time something had appeared
off in this little hallucination. "I guess I'll…" he backed up even
more, just trying to put some distance between them. "…I'll see you
later," John finished lamely.
But instead of leaving, O'Neill narrowed his eyes at John suspiciously.
"Colonel?"
The way the general said it, John almost believed that the hallucination
knew exactly who he was, and that…that creeped him out even more.
O'Neill was standing, but moving towards him, not the door, and John
decided maybe it was time to see what was on the other side of that
door. The guard wasn't going to be a match for him, and he made a lunge
for the unsuspecting man. Just like he'd thought, a punch, and a toss,
and the guard was out of the picture, but the door rattled unforgiving
in his hand. Shit.
"Why don't you sit down," O'Neill suggested softly behind him.
John turned around, the door hard against his back. "I prefer to stand."
The thing about hallucinations – anything can happen. Though he had a
locked door against his back, the guard out for the count, two more
appeared next to O'Neill, and Doctor Fletcher, and as soon as John saw
the hypodermic in Fletcher's hand, he knew he was screwed. If it'd just
been the medical personnel, John could've carpeted the floor with them,
but O'Neill, even older as he was now, would be able to take him down.
Then again…this was a hallucination, right? So maybe the nanites
wouldn't know about O'Neill's special ops…oh, crap. If this was a
hallucination, then he'd just thought about it, and given the nanites
everything they needed. Damn.
"I'm betting this isn't a good time to say 'just joking?'"
That's when they came at him.
The two medical tech, guards, whatever, he took them out easily. Just
like the other, but then O'Neill sucker punched him, and before he could
shake off the stars obscuring his vision, the guards were back, each
holding an arm and shoulder, and Fletcher was there, jabbing the needled
into John's arm.
"Son of a bitch," he managed to swear, before everything went dark.
The end…of part two
