Thanks for reviewing. For this chapter I added a scene or two. So let me know what you think.
Chapter 4
Teyla slid slowly into the lukewarm soapy water, several lit scented candles surrounding the tub in her bathroom, small plumes from the candles filling the air, the sweet scent of floral filling her nostrils. She breathes in. Since returning to her quarters from the training room her emotions have been tethering on the edge. Her subconscious mind in a state of rewind as it continues to replay the earlier kissing incident with Colonel Sheppard. Forgoing her usually ritual of meditating before her bath because she knows what visions will occupy her thoughts. She lowers herself completely, submerging in the lukewarm water, feeling the warmth of the water touching skin. She places her head back resting it on the inner edge of the tub, closing her eyes, as water envelopes her, soothing her throbbing limbs while her thoughts still lace with confusion sought some understanding.
It was clear to her that the Colonel's behavior was not that of his own. How could it be? The skills he displayed during their sparring session, then the subsequently kiss he had initiated between them, and then Dr. Beckett subsequently request for the Colonel Sheppard come to the infirmary, had warranted these thoughts. Back in the training room, she didn't know how long she stayed clutching the wall behind her, Colonel Sheppard having departed the training room to go see Dr. Beckett. She had been relieved to see the departing back of the Colonel. To be alone so she could put her thoughts together. She had radioed Ronon upon her departure from the training room to inquire whether he thought Colonel Sheppard's behavior was that of her own. Ronon accounting of his and the Colonel usual routine run on one of the metallic catwalks in the East Tower had cemented her suspicions. Although, Ronon and the Colonel tend to be competitive when it comes to these things or activities of this nature, the Colonel is hardly ever the victor.
She lies languidly in the water, her mind so preoccupy, she does not notice the slight cooling of the water. She knows that something is wrong with Colonel Sheppard. The cause of his strange behavior was still a mystery to her and even suspecting that something was indeed wrong with Sheppard Colonel which would account for his strange behavior that didn't alleviate her concerns about what happen or her own reactions concerning the kiss. The kiss was unexpected that's a given, but it was also raw, devoid of subtlety, passionate in its intensity. And for a brief moment, she had succumbed to it all until her internal defenses told something wasn't right. And although, the Colonel had appeared shock and confused as well by his own behavior, the fact remains he had kissed her and prior to that he had requested that she called him John when they are off the clock.
She was initially surprise by his request. It is the way of her people to respect the title that is bestowed or earned by the person who wears that title. But most importantly, it is Colonel Sheppard's own people need for these titles and their meaning of importance that she had continued to call him Colonel instead John. Here on Atlantis, everyone seems to have a title besides their given name of birth. Even Rodney is often called Dr. McKay by many here. So she thought it prudence to follow some of their customs and ways since she was now living among them even though at times she found some of those ways confusing and , no matter that she thought of Colonel Sheppard as one of her truest allies and one of her closest friends if not her closest friend here on Atlantis. She had thought it wise to adapt to their customary ways when ever possible. And there had seemed to be a mutual acceptance of that between them.
She moves her shoulders, turning face in the opposite direction from it's previously perch on the edge of the tub, her eyes suddenly opening.
Maybe, what ever is wrong with the Colonel, Dr. Beckett will have some explanations, explanations to explain the Colonel's sudden physical prowess. But would that explain the kiss too? What would be the explanations for the kiss, and, and her momentarily acceptance of it and still lingering feelings toward it. She knows deep within her mind and the heart she is trying to protect that it can not be easily define. Will the Colonel tries to seek her presence to speak to her once he is finish with Dr. Beckett. She knows not. She knows they will have to eventually discuss it, a certainty at the very least. Yet, she is uncertain of what to say or what to feel, or how the Colonel, himself is feeling about it as well. Judging by his shock expression, it wasn't something he had initially planned to do. So why did it? She sighs, signs of her confusion, and of her own frustrations with that confusion.
---
John found himself again lying in the infirmary, being scanned. Dr. Beckett in a lab coat and there was another guy in an Atlantis science uniform, watching and looking concerned. The Doc turning and walking toward Dr. Weir, Dr. Weir who is gnawing a thumbnail over by the wall feet away. Dr. Weir stops as Dr. Beckett approaches and tries to look prepared to hear anything. So he is left alone to think, if you can call it being alone. Dr. Weir and Dr. Beckett's whole conversation takes place in fairly low voices, out of John's hearing.
Dr. Beckett, very softly "The retrovirus isn't breaking down in his system like we hoped it would."
"You're positive?"
'Yes. In fact, it's beginning to alter his D.N.A. If this is allowed to continue, he'll devolve into a creature similar to what Ellia became." Moving to sit at his desk as Weir lets out a worried breath then she turns to him.
"How long do we have?
"I'm not sure exactly."
"Ballpark! Months, weeks?" Weir asks sharply, her voice still low.
"We have days."
Weir leans over Carson's desk, looking at him intently. "Ok, what's the plan?"
"I've injected him with a viral inhibitor. It should slow down the retrovirus as far as his cognitive abilities are concerned, but I'm afraid that's it so far. We're exploring various treatments that may or may not be effective, so ..."
Shaking her head vehemently, "No, Carson, we don't have any time to explore. (She gestures toward his computer) C'mon, there's gotta be something in the Ancient database that can help you find a treatment!"
"I know that, Elizabeth. We're doing our best!"
Weir stands up, looking away uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, I know. Of course you are."
John is still on the exam bed, staring fixedly at the ceiling, looking grim. He knows something is going on inside of him. He can now feel the subtle changes occurring in his body. His senses are heighten, attune to his surroundings. He knows that Elizabeth and the Doc are talking about him. He can hear the sounds of their voices if he can't make out all the words they are saying clearly.
Dr. Beckett tries prodding Dr. Weir. "You should talk to him. He's hiding it very well, but if I was him? I'd be scared to death."
Dr. Weir and Dr. Beckett are both wishing other, to be the one to have that conversation with John. From his bed, John took this moment to sits up on the bed and looks toward them with predatory speed.
"How I'm I doing?"
Dr. Weir looks at Dr. Beckett with desperation, Dr. Beckett nods at her. She goes over to the bed John is lying on. John looks her up and down, then frowns.
"Anything that has you speechless has me concerned."
With a not-quite-smile, "You're gonna be fine."
"That's dead man talk."
"No, it isn't."
John turns up his right arm, showing the scaly patch has grown a bit and changed to an icky shiny, carbuncle-looking kind of discoloration, skin. "Have you seen this?"
"Beckett is gonna figure this one out."
"I think I already have. You know who I'm starting to feel like? (pausing) Ford."
"Now what is happening to you is completely different."
"I know, I know. Still, I can feel it. I mean, I can feel it changing me inside ... like he did."
"I don't think that's even possible. Look, you're very worried ..."
'No, no. No, it's ... .uh ... (pausing as he tries to find the comparison) One of the best weeks of my life was when I got my wisdom tooth out. I was on codeine for a full seven days. This is kinda the same. I know I should be in pain, or at the very least freaked out by this, but hey! I'm not ... and that freaks me out more than anything."
"We're gonna beat this." Elizabeth tries to reassure him, as she shifted her feet.
"'We're gonna beat this.' 'Beckett will figure this out.' 'You're gonna be fine.' You know you really suck at the whole bedside manner thing." Seriously, who she is trying to kid here he thought? He is a soldier. And one of thing in being a solider is assessing the situation. And his assessment of the situation is that he is royally screwed.
"I know, I'm sorry." Weir looks away in embarrassment.
"But I appreciate the effort."
---
Teyla holding the comb in her hand combs through her hair absently as she sits on her bed in her quarters, her bath was placidity to her body, her emotions however, a prism of contradictions. Dr. Weir's voice over the city's radio summoning her along with Ronon and Rodney to her office brought some focus to her.
---
The coloration with the scaly patch of skin is now no longer just prevalent on his arm alone. He gazes at his face in the mirror, turning his head, the right of his body starting to bear witness of his transformation into the creature he is rapidly becoming, his right hand, no longer that of a human hand, but with the look and shape of a claw.
To John, it was like staring down the barrel of a gun except it wasn't a bullet he was facing or death for that matter. He will just cease to be the man he is now and the thought scared him more than he cares to admit to anyone. As a solider he knows death, he expects it. He had always hope, that his death would be a time of his choosing. He wants his death to mean something. Not sitting in his quarters, on his bed, or the infirmary, feeling more alive in ways he has never felt before, yet losing the thing that makes him human, he is becoming a primal male. He is not use to this type of existence. They expect him to do nothing, but just wait while the people that he cared about put their lives on the line for him, to save him. He has never been about nothing and he doesn't want to start now.
----
He is confine to his quarters, a confinement of his choosing. He knows that the infirmary isn't secure for him anymore. The inhibitor is only keeping him lucid, but it's not slowing the retrovirus. So he sits and sits, in his dimly lit room, no longer caring to see the visual ravages being done to his human form while his mind is waging a war against itself, his humanity slowly being stripe away from him. He could feel the darkness all around him, closing in. It's present becoming more and more pronounced, gaining shape, a creature, a creature that is gaining in form and intensity. He is under siege.
He wants more guards posted on the other side of the doors to his quarters. The guards are his men. Men, he cans no longer lead as their commanding officer. He is not fit to be their leader. He is a liability.
---
"At least two men, stationed at my door, sooner rather than later."
"Now, what are you talking about?"
"Just trust me, Elizabeth. You're going to need it."
TBC