Chapter 7

John woke to the sounds of scurrying medical personnel. He listened carefully but didn't hear any cries of pain, beeping monitors, or shouts for assistance. The nurse that came to check his vitals denied anything out of the ordinary happening when he asked. He decided to put what Teyla and Ronon had taught him earlier to use. He calmed his breathing and concentrated, allowing his ears to see for him. Whispers reached him, but he couldn't decipher the words no matter how hard he tried.

He focused on the wristband Rodney had given him and discovered three people on the far side of the room. He carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed and used his IV pole to pull himself up. It took a minute to get his wobbly knees under control, but once he did, he took a tentative step, pausing to grab his sunglasses and slide them on. Carson had removed the cardiac leads the day before which left the pulse-ox clip on his finger. He eased over to the monitor and switched it off from memory, pulling the clip from his hand.

Sheppard was breathing hard after the first few steps, but he was moving under his own power. The watch told him the three people were still there, and he took another few steps, listening attentively. He could almost make out what they were saying, something about mixing a paste and testing it on collagen fibers. A few more steps-

"What do you think you are doing?"

Busted.

"Hey, Carson. I was getting lonely over there all by myself. Thought I'd see what you three are up to."

"Three? How did you- Oh, the wrist-thingy Rodney gave you. Well, we are up to doctor stuff so back to bed with you."

"Come on, Doc. I just want to-"

"Rodney, I think Colonel Sheppard needs a change of venue. Why don't you grab a wheelchair and sit for a minute out on the balcony?"

McKay spluttered, "I don't have-"

"Rodney."

"Fine."

"Look, McKay, if you don't want to…."

"It's not that, Sheppard. It's just that I…. Here, sit down before you fall down."

Rodney guided John into the chair a nurse had brought. Carson tucked a blanket around him and gave strict instructions to be back in thirty minutes. Sheppard held the IV pole as McKay pushed him toward his favorite balcony. As they navigated the halls of Atlantis, John could feel the strain in the air, a tension normally reserved for Wraith attacks and Genii invasions.

The doors to the balcony slid open, and the ocean breeze welcomed him. He breathed it in deeply, relishing the sun on his face as Rodney shifted nervously behind him.

"OK, spill it, McKay. What's going on?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me. I mean the frantic feeling in the air. Everyone's running around like the Wraith are back. The Wraith aren't back, are they?" John could feel the panic rising in his chest at the thought.

"No, Sheppard, the Wraith aren't back. Calm down. Nothing's wrong."

"You suck at lying, remember? Now tell me what's going on."

McKay heaved a sigh and paced for a minute. Sheppard's instincts were sharp. Rodney knew there was no way to keep the truth from the pilot. The man would find out eventually; someone would slip up in his presence. The scientist decided he would rather tell John than have him find out accidentally. He pushed the chair to the balcony's edge and stood next to him, leaning against the railing.

"We've been analyzing the data we got from Sateda. We aren't done yet, but it looks like there is a cure, at least the potential for one. We have to finish the experiments the Satedans started."

"What aren't you telling me?"

Rodney hung his head. God, this was hard. "We have less than three days before the damage is permanent."

McKay heard Sheppard's sharp intake of breath as the pilot turned away. "Three days?"

"Yes. It seems that crap hardens and can't be removed after three weeks. God, Sheppard, I'm sorry. We're doing everything we can."

John turned his face back to Rodney and smiled. "I know you are, Rodney. I know everyone is, and I appreciate it. Just be sure someone's still watching over Atlantis."

"Lorne's got the regular security detail still in place. We've suspended off-world activity for right now. Beckett's got his people working on this, and I've got the entire Science department on it. If it can be found, we'll find it."

"McKay, I'm just one guy. We can't have every resource here devoted to me."

"If it weren't for that deadline, I would agree. But we can stand down for three days."

"When is the Daedalus due?"

"Five days."

Five days. At least he'd know before Caldwell got here if he were giving up his position or not.

The two men lingered quietly for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, McKay sighed and faced Sheppard.

"Guess I'd better get you back before Beckett sends out search parties."

"Guess so. Hey, Rodney?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for telling me."

"Yeah."

McKay pushed the wheelchair slowly back to the infirmary. Along the way, several people stopped to greet the Air Force colonel. Sheppard was his usual self, witty and charming, but Rodney knew him well enough to recognize the fatigue and strain. He picked up the pace and reached the doors as the pilot was beginning to list in the chair. Beckett was waiting and helped get John resettled in the hospital bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

"I told him, Carson."

"You did what?"

"I told him about the deadline. He could tell something was wrong. I preferred to do it rather than him find out by accident."

"How did he take it?"

"Better than I expected. He's actually more concerned about the safety of Atlantis."

"Aye, that sounds like him. Back to it then?"

"Yeah, back to it."

The two doctors headed to their respective labs. They had a lot of work to do.

OoOoOoOoO

The next two days went by in a blur. John spent every waking moment working with Teyla or Ronon. The Satedan had him walking on his own and identifying where he was and who was present. He had medical exams by whoever was available while the rest centered their attention on research. Weir helped him stroll to the balcony a few times.

"The chemistry department is making various compounds based on the Satedan data. Carson has all his people running tests on it. Anything that looks promising is retested extensively."

"Elizabeth, I don't know what to say. I appreciate the lengths everyone is going to for me."

"You sound surprised, John. Did you think we would respond differently?"

"It's like I told McKay, I'm just one guy. The idea that all of these people put their lives on hold just for me is a little mind-boggling."

"Would you do any different?"

"What do you mean?"

"If only Ronon had been affected and had lost his sight, would you go on as usual or would you fight to help him?"

"I'd fight."

"Then why do you think we would do less for you?"

Sheppard squirmed a bit at her question. He tried to think of an answer but came up blank.

"John, just because you aren't used to people caring about you doesn't mean you aren't worthy of our efforts."

Now he was really squirming. He had no idea how to respond. He sucked at expressing his feelings like McKay sucked at lying.

"Um, thanks. I, uh… thanks."

He felt her hand gently pat his arm. "You're welcome."

They stood in companionable silence, enjoying the day. The headache that had been Sheppard's constant companion since he awoke in the infirmary almost two weeks ago began to spike alarmingly. He gripped the railing and lowered his head, trying to breathe through it.

"John, what's wrong?"

"Mmm. Headache."

"Should I call Carson?"

"Just give me a minute."

He swayed a bit, fighting vertigo and nausea. The pain continued to increase, exploding behind the eyelids he had clenched tightly shut. He gagged as he clutched his head, dropping to his knees. He could barely hear Elizabeth calling for help over the roar in his ears. He felt Weir's hands on his shoulders, and he shook with the effort to stay conscious. Then strong hands grasped his arms and pulled him onto a gurney.

The rolling movement allowed the nausea to win the battle, and he turned onto his side as his lunch reappeared. He heard Beckett giving orders as they came to a stop and felt the physician's hands holding his head. After a minute, they started moving again, and he held on, praying for the good drugs when they reached the infirmary.

Gentle hands transitioned him to the bed and washed his face, allowing him to rinse the foul taste from his mouth. A minute later he felt a needle puncture a vein and sweet relief course through his system. He surrendered to unconsciousness and floated away.

OoOoOoOoO

Beckett watched the pain erase itself from the pilot's face as the drugs took hold. He turned to Weir.

"What happened?"

"I have no idea, Carson. We were just standing there when he became ill. Said he had a headache."

The doctor leaned over Sheppard, pulling up each eyelid and scanning it with a small hand-held device.

"Oh no."

"What is it?"

"The fibers in his eyes are spasming. That's what is causing the pain. The notes indicate this as the final stage. He will have a raging headache for the next twelve to twenty-four hours. Cessation of pain will indicate the melrodin has completely hardened."

"How close are we?"

"We have been applying different combinations of the paste to sample fibers for two days now. The closest we've come has removed fifty percent of the melrodin."

"That's it?" Weir began to pace. "Could we just increase the strength?"

"We're trying. It doesn't quite work that way. We have to know which compound to increase. It's all about ratios."

"Can we apply this as a stop-gap measure?"

"No. The paste causes the melrodin to break its bond to the fibers. Any part that isn't broken only continues to harden."

"Would he get any of his sight back?"

"Some, but not much." Carson felt as inconsolable as Elizabeth sounded. He was responsible for the health and safety of everyone in the city, and he was failing one of his favorite people. He cursed his lack of knowledge, the melrodin, the Gralans, the Satedans, and the Ancients on general principle.

"I need to tell him."

"Actually, Rodney already has. Now, before you go yelling at him, know that Colonel Sheppard pestered it out of him. John knew something was wrong. Rodney wanted him to find out from a friend instead of an overheard conversation. I think he was right."

Weir gave a sad sigh. "He was right. We still need to give John the option of a partial cure."

"As soon as the lad wakes up, I'll explain everything to him."

"Thank you, Carson." Weir massaged her temples and gave him a grim look before making her way to the door.

Beckett began checking Sheppard's vitals. Elevated blood pressure did not come as a great shock to the physician. He examined the pilot with a clinical eye. The last couple of weeks had not been kind. The man had lost at least fifteen pounds. His muscle tone had deteriorated, and pain had sketched new lines on his forehead and the corners of his eyes.

Carson retreated to his office to log the information on the medical chart. He checked his email and found forty-seven new ones, almost all dealing with the research. He scanned them, looking for what he knew he wouldn't find – good news. Nothing.

A groan from the other room interrupted his reading, and he peeked out to find John stirring. He moved quickly to the military man's side, grabbing a wrist to check his pulse.

"Carson?"

"Aye, lad. How are you feeling?"

"Unghhh…. I've felt better."

"Would you like to sit up?"

"I think so."

Carson slowly raised the head of the bed and then gave John some water. "How's that?"

"Better."

"And how's the headache?"

"I've had worse, I think."

The doctor pulled a chair over and sat down. "I need to talk to you for a minute. Is the pain tolerable enough for you to focus on what I'm saying?"

John thought for a minute and nodded. "I'm listening, Doc. What is it?"

"I know Rodney told you about the treatment and the time limit. The headache you have is a result of a rapidly approaching deadline. There isn't much time left, son. I need to know what you want to do."

Carson could see Sheppard's jaw working as he clenched his teeth and mulled over the words. "What are my options?"

The physician sighed and prepared himself to deliver the bad news. No matter how many times he did something like this, it never got easier, thankfully.

"First, we can do nothing. You can stay the way you are right now, continue building strength and learn to live without sight. Second, we can try the most successful combination we've concocted which removes about fifty percent of the toxin from your eyes. You would gain a bit of eyesight back, but not much. You would also be exposed to a bit of the melrodin again, and I have no idea how your body might react. Your heart and lungs are still recovering from the last time, so while I think the risk is small, it is potentially fatal."

John turned to him. "Fatal? Crap, Carson, I don't like either of those. Is there a third option?"

"I'm not done yet, lad. Not only is there a risk, the procedure itself will be extremely painful. The only third option I see is to give us a few more hours to work on this, hoping to find something that's more than fifty percent effective. But it would have the same risks, and if we wait too long it will be for naught."

Beckett watched Sheppard struggle with the news. Finally John dipped his head and asked, "Can I think about it?"

"Of course you can. Would you like to sit out on the balcony? I would prefer you to stay nearby in case the headache spikes again."

"That's fine."

"Give me a minute to get a couple of things settled. I'll be right back."

Carson stepped back into his office and decided to contact Teyla. She had the most calming influence on Sheppard and would respect his need for privacy.

"Beckett to Teyla."

"This is Teyla."

"Are you available for a few minutes, love? I need someone to help Colonel Sheppard to the balcony and monitor him for me."

"Of course, Carson. I will be there shortly."

The doctor found a wheelchair and a blanket and was helping John stand when Teyla entered. The pilot's head lifted at her arrival.

"Hey, Teyla."

"Good afternoon, John."

"Did you get Colonel-keeping duty today?"

The Athosian appeared confused. "What do you mean?"

"Never mind. I'm a little cranky at the moment. Are you here to push my chair?"

"Yes, unless you have an objection?"

"No objection, Teyla. I appreciate it."

Beckett gave the blanket to Sheppard and waved to Teyla as she pushed the wheelchair from the room. He stared after them for a minute and then pushed the depressing thoughts from his mind and headed to the research lab.

OoOoOoOoO

When they reached the doors of the balcony, John asked Teyla to stop and help him to stand. He didn't want any company at the moment. She quickly acquiesced and soon he was sitting on the bench of the infirmary's balcony. He cleared his mind with difficulty and sat in peace. The headache was an ever-present roar but was manageable for the time being. For the first few minutes, he simply enjoyed the crashing of the waves and the gentle breeze.

He took off the aviator shades and rubbed his eyes. That mistake succeeded in increasing the pounding in his head. He laid the glasses next to him, putting his face in his hands. He really didn't like any of the options Beckett had presented, but number three seemed like the best choice. His initial reaction was to immediately throw the first option out. He had never run from a fight in his life and wasn't about to start now. He could and would live with the blindness if he had to, but any chance of recovering his sight was worth the risk.

He hoped that he could prove himself useful with limited or no sight, but his command would go to another if he lived through option two. His command. He had never considered the possibility of ever commanding anything more than a helicopter, and he knew no one else had either. He marched to the beat of his own drummer and had never regretted it, not even after his dad had disowned him. If he had the opportunity, he'd defy orders again in an attempt to save Holland, even knowing how it would turn out.

He had been given another chance at life to his everlasting surprise. He had found a new home and a new family. He had faced Genii, Wraith, Asurans, even a goa'uld once, and had lived to tell the tale. He'd had his doubts during his last encounter with Kolya but had somehow emerged unscathed, physically anyway. He'd faced down hive queens, had survived being bitten by an iratus bug once and almost turning into one on another occasion, and had been moments away from dying on a kamikaze run in a jumper. And now he could lose his command, his ability to fly, his way of life because he took a stroll in the wrong garden at the wrong time. Oh, the irony.

John reconsidered option one. Rather than risk his life, he could accept this and move on. If he couldn't stay on Atlantis as a part of the military, he could resign his commission and work as a civilian. His gene wasn't damaged that he knew of. He concentrated for a moment and heard the balcony doors slide open and closed. No, his gene still functioned. He could help in the labs, activating devices and such. He deliberated carefully. The work wouldn't be as satisfying as flying, exploring, leading a team, or commanding, but he could live with it.

He thought of his new family: Teyla, the voice of reason, whom he trusted above all others; Ronon, the guardian, who would never back down regardless of the odds; Rodney, the brother he'd never had, who was working tirelessly to help him; Elizabeth, the leader, who accepted everyone's burdens as her own; Carson, the healer, who pulled him back to the land of the living time after time. He felt a bit like Jimmy Stewart in that Christmas movie. He really had a wonderful life. Was he really willing to risk it to regain his sight?

He felt the headache kicking up a notch and decided the time had come to return to the infirmary. He slid on his shades as he gingerly rose from the bench and eased toward the doors. As they slid open he felt Teyla's strong hands guide him to the chair.

"How are you feeling, John?"

"Other than the jackhammer that's doing a number in my head, I'm fine."

"Have you reached a decision?"

Had he? He thought through the options Carson had presented, weighing them carefully. He concentrated, focusing all his energy on how strong his body really was, blocking out all sound until only his heart beat remained. He was ready. He could do this.

"Yeah, Teyla. Let's go see Beckett."

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tbc