Disclaimer: I do not own SGA…which is probably a good thing for the actors…
A/N: Sorry for the delay, I didn't realize so many people were on the "alerts" list…so here's the chapter. Also, I'd like to apologize for a brief error (see bottom A/N)…anyway, read and enjoy. I am reposting this because I originally said Caldwell, when I meant Bates. BIG difference there!
NIGHTMARES
Last Time: Without much more than a single, fleeting thought, John sat down on the balcony and promptly fell asleep.
"John Sheppard? John!" John awoke to a voice in his ear and it took him a moment to realize that it was his radio. He recognized Dr Weir's voice, the pitch one of concern.
"This is John Sheppard…over."
"John, where are you?" John took the moment to look around. A sudden breeze ruffled his hair and the salty air made his nose tingle.
"I'm on the balcony, why?" He stood and stretched, finding his legs were cramped and that he was slightly chilled.
"We've been trying to find you for the last 30 minutes!"
Oh, so that explained the worried tone. He glanced at his watch, surprised to find he had almost slept the morning away. The sun was up already, and he managed to smother a yawn.
"Carson's absolutely livid with you as well. He says you're to come down to the infirmary at once!" Dr Weir's voice increased slightly. It came back down to a semi-calm, more natural Weir level as she continued, "And I'd like you to come to my office when you have the chance."
"Tell him, I'm going there now." John shut off his radio before anyone else came to rant at him. He didn't mind being yelled at if he did something wrong – but for Pete's sake, did they really think he was going to avoid a trip to the infirmary? And even if he were, would he really go to all that trouble. Yeah, no I'm just pretending I have nightmares and that I'm tired so that I can just pussy-foot around all day. Oh, and tell the wraith standing behind you that he can't eat me because I'm tired.
It took him a good bit longer to get to the infirmary than he expected, but that was what came of sleeping outside and on the balcony. He wasn't ready to meet with Carson's wrath – the worst part though, wasn't the ranting or the raving, but the quiet, evil-eyed looks the doc sent him.
"Well it looks like ye've finally decided to show up," Carson said contemptuously.
"Sorry," but the comment seemed to go unnoticed as the doc turned swiftly away. The cart appeared with the same iodine container, gauze, and tape that had been on it yesterday. Was it only yesterday? John mused, before he was shocked out of his musings by pain.
"Ow," John muttered, as Carson undid the gauze around his arms. His wrists, surprisingly enough, were still sore.
"Aye, and there gonna be sore until you let them rest. Let that be a lesson to you." John remained quiet, deciding that that was his best course of action.
The iodine stung, maybe not as painfully as it first had, but it still burned enough to take his breath away. If Carson was getting back at him, he sure was doing a fantastic job – at least as far as pain and discomfort was associated.
"There," John looked down at his hands to find them re-bandaged. "Now, anything else I need to know about?" The doc eyed him critically, and John knew Carson could see through his bravado to stay alert.
"Other than the nightmares, no." John turned to leave, but Carson's firm hand on his shoulder caused John to flinch. He turned around to face the concerned doc. "Look, I'm not a three-year-old who needs a nightlight anymore." John stalked out, thinking it had been a close call.
"Hey, Sheppard!" Rodney's voice checked John in the hall, just after leaving the infirmary. "Care to try out some more gadgets?"
"Maybe later, Rodney, I've got some business to attend to." The physicist and colonel shared a grin as they did the mental image of the stacks of paperwork piled up on John's desk.
John was halfway to his office when his stomach growled loudly. He looked around, wondering if anyone was going to inquire about the noise, but the hall was vacant. Where is everyone, John mused, deciding instead to go to the dining hall.
He grabbed a tray, then reconsidered after remembering that his wrists couldn't handle any more weight. He chose the lighter things on the menu and carried them to the table where he sat down and began to wolf down the food. He went back for seconds, and then let the food settle while he leaned back and wondered if it was even worth going to his office for only a few hours of work.
Hating the feeling of doing nothing useful, John decided to get a little of the paperwork done. With his wrists as sore as they were, there wasn't much he could do, but he could grip a pen – or so he hoped. He sighed at the stack of papers waiting on his desk, before he began to leaf through them. Nothing but reports and security concerns, either from Rodney or Radek, or Bates.
"ZPM's, that's what we need," John muttered as his gaze roamed over the page. "Thank you Rodney." Yawning, he continued to read, but gradually it became harder and harder to keep his eyes peeled.
He dozed off, the report slipping from his hands as his head lowered onto the desk.
He was back in the mustang, traveling at a high speed with the cop cars surrounding him. As though in a flash, John suddenly recalled why this highway looked so familiar. It was the same one he had been on in-route to the SGC. This meant the Wraith had already reached Earth!
Then suddenly, the scenery had changed, no longer was he in the mustang, instead he was in a Puddlejumper – or something similar. The knowledge that wraith darts were besieging him came instantaneously as he attempted to out maneuver them. And that was when he saw it.
Ahead of him sat a large ship, larger than anything he had seen – asides from at a distance: a wraith hive ship. Silent and deadly, it let its prey approach before two critical blasts came from behind, bringing him closer to the hive ship. He tried with all his strength to avoid the hive ship, even trying to engage the hyper-speed on the Puddlejumper in hopes of making it over or below it. Nothing worked, and then a beam of light shone on him.
He was in the hive ship, at least he figured it was the hive ship, and found himself cocooned in the webbing that he was all too familiar with. He tried to struggle, tried to call out for help, but no sound came, and the feeling of having been shot by a wraith stunner left its mark as he shivered.
He looked up suddenly and found himself face to face with a wraith, its eyes staring at him in hunger. He couldn't help it, the webbing disappeared and John reacted out of pure instinct. He yelped, grabbing for his 9-mil and firing.
A loud bang startled John awake, as he jerked back. Confused and startled, he realized he was holding his 9-mil in his hand. He looked where it was pointing, and realized that there was a single hole in the wall opposite of him.
"Oh shit," John said, quickly turning the safety on and re-holstering the 9-mil. He waited for a moment, wondering if anyone was going to come and check on him, but apparently random shots fired from a gun was not a call for assistance.
"Now I'm losing it," John told himself, as he rearranged the papers on his desk. Almost as a second thought, he picked up a blank sheet of paper and drew a smiley face on it. Quickly he walked over to the bullet hole and stuck the paper over it. Now it would be decoration as well as concealment for the damage. "Sorry Atlantis," he muttered, "I'm headed for bed."
He reached his quarters with no incidents, other than the feeling of being spooked, but that he could attribute it to the fact he had fired in his sleep. What if someone had entered and was sitting across from him? What if he had accidentally shot someone – or worse, killed someone? What if – he could think of a million more scenarios and none made him feel better.
This time, in case of an incident, John placed his 9-mil onto the nightstand, along with his radio and watch. He dimmed the lights and eased his breathing, hoping to get some sleep tonight. He hadn't thought about it before, but he was tired and also a little cranky. Only a good night's sleep would cure that – but would tonight be that night?
John tossed and turned for a few minutes before finally settling down into a semi-conscious sleep.
The dream was the same as the one before, waking up with a wraith staring him right in the face, and ending with him trying to scrabble for his 9-mil, only to find he was unarmed. He gave out a cry, before jolting upright out of bed, beads of sweat on his brow.
It wasn't even midnight, and John was now thoroughly pissed. He wanted sleep – was that too much to ask? But now he couldn't even get a decent night's sleep without waking up every two hours. He scooted over a foot to the left in his bed and tried again, to fall asleep.
He gained another two hours of sleep, before the nightmare awoke him. That and the terrifying thought that he was waving his 9-mil around. Fortunately, both hands were empty when he looked at them through bleary eyes, and he rolled over, to try and go back to sleep.
He tried to fall back asleep, but instead came to the conclusion that he was going to be wide awake the rest of the night.
"Great," John moaned, as he rolled over onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. The lights were dimmed and his eyes protested the light, but otherwise he was fine. "Yeah, just keep telling yourself that."
Thoroughly disgusted at the fact that he was now wide awake, and pissed that he was going to be exhausted later, John threw the covers off and entered the bathroom. He looked down at his wrists and then didn't care what came of his actions. He began to unroll the gauze and let it fall to the floor.
His knuckles were healing, even if the skin was still tender – well so long as he didn't make a tight fist or hit a punching bag anytime soon, they would heal properly. His wrists were still a little stiff and sore, but nothing to hold him back much. So with his mind made up, John grabbed his 9-mil, radio and watch, and headed out for a walk.
"Colonel Sheppard?" John nearly rose a foot in the air, and his fingers were just itching to whip the 9-mil from its holster on his leg. Instead, he resisted, turning as dignified as he could, to see the man who had spooked him.
"Well, well, if it isn't Bates." He tried to make it sound friendly, as though he had expected him, but he wasn't sure.
"Yes sir," the man gave a brief salute, before looking at John closer. "Are you getting up or going to bed, sir?"
John paused, wondering why Bates was taking the time to stop him this late at night.
"I could ask you the same, Bates." John looked pointedly at the man. If there was one problem with Bates, it was that he didn't take a hint.
"I was just going to bed, sir, same as you should be."
Ooh, that was so not the right thing to say to an already pissed off colonel, especially one who's been having nightmares about wraith for three nights in a row.
"Listen, Bates, I'm only going to say this once," John paused for a brief moment, realizing he now had Bates's full attention. "What I do is my own damn business. Got that?"
"I disagree, sir."
The impudence John was getting, it wasn't called for. John realized he was holding himself back from shooting the man – the 9-mil sitting in its holster like a person within arm's reach of a wraith. Only John was no wraith, and he certainly wasn't going to shoot Bates – or so he hoped.
"Get some sleep, Bates," John said instead, wishing the man his own nightmares. Under his breath he muttered, "Don't let the wraith bugs bite."
With that unpleasant encounter over with and in the past, John headed for the nearest balcony, then decided against it, and went for one that was further out in the city. He had to use a transporter – no big deal since he arrived in the blink of an eye to the location he had selected – then thought the door open.
There was no breeze this time, nothing but the sound of water lapping at the base of Atlantis – and he could only just hear it if he held his breath. He leaned over the balcony rail, looking down into the water and wondering what kinds of sea-creatures inhabited the waters. It wasn't like the Ancients had documented animals in their ocean.
Of course, you couldn't really call a shark a threat to Atlantis. Somehow a fish just can't instill the same amount of fear that a gigantic tidal wave or monumental attack by wraith can. Even the databases that the Ancients had were filled with minimal information. They were lucky if the planets were documented on having life or not. That was why the MALPs were so important.
Yes, he still remembered sending that one into outer space, through the coordinates that the then Lt Ford had memorized. It was still a sore spot: that Lt Ford had gone, made crazy by that stupid Wraith enzyme. There wasn't anyone to blame except the wraith, and that did no good. They'd just as readily eat you as soon as look at you. Though they might make an exception in John's case.
Dimly, he wondered if lack of sleep would be distasteful to the wraith, but he wasn't willing to risk it. Besides, if he had his way, he'd much rather gun down a dozen or so wraith than dream that they were feeding off him. He shivered despite the warm night air. There was just something unnatural about the way they stole a person's life – forcing them to age until death claimed them. Or a friend took pity; John recalled Sumner and the bullet he had sent through the wraith-keeper's hand as well as his friend's heart.
"I forgave myself – even he forgave me. There was nothing I could have done!" John forced himself to put that behind him, it was the only thing he could do…just like what he had had to do when his two friends were killed in Khabour.
"Okay, concentrate on the water…or go to sleep." John blinked as he gazed down into the darkness where the water was lapping at Atlantis.
A/N: Okay, the error was in a previous chapter when Teyla says they have a mission's briefing at 1300 hours the next day (this day) anyway, I'm pushing it back to next chapter – so we'll get to see what more trouble our favorite Lt. Col gets himself into! Also, the place where Mitch and Dex were killed: I looked it up and it's correctly spelled. So, yeah, sorry about all that. So if I haven't lost all you readers yet, please leave a review?
