CHAPTER 7
The Wraith slammed his hand into his chest. He screamed, and a little boy ran toward him waving his arms, bouncing across a farm field on a sunny day. He stood on a catwalk overlooking an advanced city, and another Wraith on another planet at another time threw him to the ground, snarling, and then he was standing up, stretching his back after digging up the roots that plagued his crop fields, squinting in the sunlight looking for his son, his wife, his brother, the Wraith. It was raining and windy, then night, then sunny again.
The images swirled around in John's mind, jerking him from one place to another. He was growing dizzy and sick, and he felt hot and cold at the same time. He reached out for Atlantis, for home, but everything he touched seemed to disappear. His thoughts were brutally torn from him as he fell second by second into each man's memories.
And over all of them, the smooth, gray corridor. Slowly, the gray corridor became the dominant image and John found himself more and more often moving silently around the curve of the corridor, always moving forward but never arriving.
Gradually, the light in the corridor changed, and then he found himself standing in front of a large window in the otherwise empty hallway. He looked out, but all he could see was blue—a deep, brilliant, mesmerizing blue that seemed to glow and cast a bluish haze down the entire hallway.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"Rodney, if you don't pipe down, I'm going to have the Marines drag you out of here by your ear."
"You wouldn't," Rodney said, staring appalled at the irate doctor. Carson narrowed his eyes, trying to convey how serious he was about his threat.
"Why won't he wake up?" Rodney asked when Carson just stared him down, changing the subject suddenly although in a much lower voice.
Carson sighed, shrugging his shoulders. His anger abated immediately, replaced with concern for the comatose John Sheppard. "I don't know, Rodney. His brainwaves were all over the place. They've almost settled back down to normal, but…"
"Is he going to be okay, though? Carson, just tell me. Is he going to be him?"
Carson bit his lip and the wave of emotion that overcame him. He tried to get a grip on his own worries and fear, but the pleading in Rodney's voice was too much to ignore. He laid a hand on Rodney shoulder in comfort.
"We're doing all we can for him, Rodney, but I can't—" A sudden change in the rhythm of John's heart monitor cut off anything further he was about to say. He scanned the information on the monitors, then bent down to examine John himself.
"What is it? What happened?" Rodney asked, coming around to the other side of the bed. He too looked down at Sheppard.
Carson ignored Rodney and bent closer to John. "Colonel, wake up," he said loudly. The two waited in anticipation, but all they got from John was a slight twitch in his eye. Carson grabbed John's hand, squeezing it firmly and tried again. "John, open your eyes, lad. I need you to wake up."
They were rewarded with a little more movement on John's part, and Carson could feel John weakly gripping his hand back.
"That's it, John. Open your eyes," he coaxed. He let go of John's hand to rub his knuckles against the sick man's chest. This elicited even more movement and a soft groan. John turned his head toward Carson's voice but couldn't seem to open his eyes.
"John, can you hear me?" Carson grabbed Sheppard's hand, noting that his patient's pulse and breathing had picked up. "If you can hear me, I need you to squeeze my hand."
Carson smiled at the slight but immediate pressure on his hand. "That's it, lad." He glanced up at Rodney, surprised the physicist hadn't said anything yet, but Rodney lived quickly up to his voluble reputation.
"Almost two days, Sheppard. Two freaking days. Do you know what you've done to my blood pressure?" He griped, but he was smiling and seemed to be sagging into himself with relief.
"Probably not, but I do," Carson answered. "Sit down already before you have a stroke."
The sudden release of tension after the last two days seemed to suck all of McKay's energy. For once, he listened to the doctor and fell back into the chair he'd occupied for over a day.
"Stay with me for a few more minutes, John," Carson said as he continued to check John over, but Sheppard quickly fell back asleep.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"How is John doing?" Teyla asked walking quickly into the infirmary. She was breathing a little heavier than usual, giving away the fact that she'd run all the way to the infirmary.
"He's fine, love. He's sleeping at the moment," Carson answered.
"I saw Rodney. He said John had awoken earlier this afternoon."
"Aye, he did, briefly—although he was too weak to even open his eyes at the time. You can sit with him if you'd like. We'll probably try to wake him up again in a little bit."
Teyla nodded gratefully and made her way over to John's bed. He looked the same as he had during the previous two days, but she trusted Carson's medical abilities. She held his hand, hoping he would wake up at her touch, but was content to sit back in the chair and wait with him when he didn't. Weariness pulled at her, but she resisted the urge to doze off. She hadn't had much sleep since she'd heard of John's collapse. None of the team had.
Teyla rubbed her temples, trying to ease some of the tension. John had been sick off and on for almost a month now, and no one could explain what was happening. Every day was a gut wrenching battle between fear and anger and worry and frustration. She leaned forward in her chair, bring her face close to John's.
"Wake up, John, please," she whispered.
The blue light was everywhere. John tried to move away from the window, but he was stuck there, staring into blue nothing. It almost had a shape, and at times seemed to be moving, but otherwise it was an inchoate, cold, blue mass that whoever's eyes he was looking through could not turn away from. All the other nightmarish images had disappeared but this one—the gray hallway with the blue windows.
He heard a whisper and tried unsuccessfully to turn the head glued to the windows. He couldn't make out the voice or any words, but he was suddenly filled with warmth. He strained again for the sound. He almost recognized it; he was sure he knew whatever or whoever it was. The whisper sounded again and the light around the window began to change and dissolve. He could move his head now, and he turned toward the sound that was so close to his ear.
Wake up, John.
He heard it again, heard the words. This time he recognized the soft, calming voice. Teyla. He tried to reach out to her, but darkness was falling on him fast. He turned around, expecting to see the blue windows again, but everything was fading. His throat constricted, making him feel like he was suffocating. He heard the whisper again. Teyla. He had to find her. Teyla.
"….ttt….ll'..aammmmm…" he groaned. The sound of his own voice, weak as it was, surprised him, and his eyes flew open.
Teyla leaned forward, whispering quietly to John, and was surprised to see him react to the sound of her voice. His eyes began to move rapidly under his lids, and he turned toward her. She stood up, catching the attention of a nearby nurse and telling her to fetch Doctor Beckett. When she looked back down at John, he was moaning and thrashing weakly. His movements were slow and uncoordinated, and she thought she heard him say her name, but his voice was low and hoarse and came out more as a groan than anything. She leaned toward him again, smoothing his hair back with one hand and gripping his hand with the other.
"John, it is alright. It is me, Teyla. Wake up, John."
His eyes flew open and Teyla reared back in shock, not expecting him to wake up so quickly. His eyes slid closed again almost immediately, so Teyla squeezed his hand.
"John?" She called out, a little louder.
John's eyes began to flutter, and he groaned. He was becoming more and more agitated. Carson Beckett ran over quickly, and Teyla smiled in relief as the doctor took charge, but she stayed close to John and kept a firm grip on his hand.
"John, lad, open your eyes for me," Carson commanded. He put his hands on either side of John's head, forcing it to stay still for a moment. Slowly, John cracked his eyes open. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. It took him more than a few seconds to finally focus on the doctor standing over him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Teyla watched him lick his lips and swallow convulsively, and she realized he was probably thirsty.
Carson, for his part, was beaming at the fact that his briefly comatose patient was now awake. Relief was mixed in as well, drowning out concern for just a few seconds. Carson kept his hands on John's face, noticing how long it took for John to focus on him. Sheppard seemed completely unaware of his surroundings otherwise.
"Do you know where you are?" Carson asked loudly but clearly. He waited a moment, watching as John opened and closed his mouth. Teyla was suddenly holding out a glass of water with a straw. Carson held the straw to John's lips, supporting John's head with his other hand. John's reactions were obviously delayed. It took him a minute to react to the straw prodding him in the lips, but when he finally did take a sip of water, he relaxed. He began to gulp the water down too fast to swallow and was suddenly coughing.
Carson pulled the straw away but kept his hand under John's head and waited for the coughing to subside. He turned John's head so the colonel was looking straight at him.
"John, do you know where you are?" He asked. John's eyes looked dull and he belatedly flicked his eyes around the room. He coughed quietly but otherwise made no attempt to answer the doctor.
Carson gripped John's hand, squeezing it to get the man's attention. Again, his reactions were slow, but he eventually focused on the doctor.
"John, I need you to squeeze my hand. Do you understand?" He paused, waiting for a response, and smiled at the slight pressure he suddenly felt. John's grip was weak, but it was there.
"Good lad," Carson said. He pulled his hand out from under John's head and let the man relax against the pillow. He grabbed his penlight and flashed it in Sheppard's eyes, then grunted and muttered something about "sluggish reactions" and "disoriented."
John squeezed his eyes shut against the little light and turned his head away from Beckett. Slowly, he opened his eyes again, blinking away the after images. Teyla bent down to look him and smiled when he noticed her for the first time.
"Teyla?" John whispered. He made almost no sound as he spoke, but Teyla was close enough to hear his strangled whisper.
"Yes, John. You are home. You are safe." She grabbed his hand and felt him grip her hand back. Before she could say anything else, she saw his eyelids beginning to droop.
"Rest, John. We will be here for you when you awaken again," she said.
John's eyes immediately slid shut and his breathing evened out. Within seconds, he was fast asleep. Teyla watched him sleep for a moment before turning toward the doctor.
"Is he alright, Carson?"
"Hard to say. He's been through quite an ordeal," Carson answered. He glanced up at Teyla's worried face. "The fact that he knew who you were right away is a good sign. We'll need to run more tests, though. We'll have a better idea of what's going on tomorrow."
Teyla nodded. Carson checked John over one more time then shuffled back to his office. Teyla couldn't bring herself to let go of John's hand, and she sat next to her friend long into the night, hoping he would recover from this latest incident.
