oOo

Ch 9 Peperami

John

The infirmary was a comfortable twenty-one degrees to everyone else, but John was still shivering. Doctor Cole had said he could go, back to his quarters... rest up.. sleep.

He didn't need to stay. Only here he was, wandering through the labs and treatment areas, a blanket still glued to his shoulders, padding along in woolly socks and stretchy paper slippers.

He kept finding himself outside a set of double doors: the operating room where Rodney had been rushed not an hour ago.

It was funny, but he couldn't remember the jumper ride back. He remembered sinking onto one of the bench seats inside the crowded ship. A vague, but oddly painful, knot of worry for his team mate niggled at him, and he wanted to ask again about Rodney's condition. By now he was carrying his own oxygen, along with the umbrella, Lorne having gone forward to take up the pilot's duties. John took it as a sign of his own exhaustion that this fact did not concern him.

He must have closed his eyes for a second, fully intending to shout down the jumper for Carson, but the new feeling of warmth allowed tired and stiff muscles to relax. The next thing he saw, through bleary eyes, was the image of a moving Atlantis ceiling.

Someone said, "Go back to sleep, colonel.", and he did. When next he surfaced, he was installed in an infirmary bed, hooked up to several of Carson's baby-sitting devices, weighted down by heavy blankets. He was glad to see no IV lines, and feel no embarrassing intrusions elsewhere. Voices had caught his ear...

"What about Colonel Sheppard?" - That was Elizabeth...

"He's asleep right now. He had a mild case of hypothermia, but responded well - he'll have no ill effects." - The next voice sounded like Doctor Cole.

"And Dr McKay?"

"I don't know yet.. I'm sorry - but he's in the best hands"

That's when he'd pulled off his monitor leads and taken to wandering. The petite blonde doctor soon found him, chastised him soundly for his recklessness, before pronouncing him fit enough to leave.

To be fair, he had intended to do just that; Ronon came by with some of his clothes, promised to return in twenty minutes to 'collect' him. But after staring at the pile of clothes for a while, and then staring at the double doors, he pulled on a scruffy sweat shirt, replaced his blanket, and put the rest of the clothes in his bedside cabinet.

Then he returned to his measuring of the floor, pace by pace.

He was just arriving back at his bed, having completed another circuit, when his foot bumped against something; it was his field pack.

It was lying tucked underneath the bed, hidden from sight by dangling bed sheets; just next to it, was Rodney's.

He snaffled both and heaved them onto his own bed, where he sat, legs splayed out, with the packs in front of him. He had found the umbrella, along with the flashlight, earlier, on his night stand and now he reached for the wrapped umbrella, meaning to replace it in Rodney's pack. Velcro ripped and he began feeding the stubby end into the narrow pocket. But it wouldn't go; something was preventing it.

John pulled out a foil wrapped peperami sausage...

"eat by: Nov '05", he murmured aloud.

He couldn't resist a snigger, as he shook his head and lobbed the festering sausage across the room and into the garbage pail. But then the smile faded, as again his thoughts were dragged away to the closed double doors and the surgery going on within.

He replaced the umbrella soberly, folding down the flap and then turned the bag, making sure all the other pockets were fastened. Reaching for the flashlight, he put it back in it's appointed place, smiling to himself when he remembered how he had unerringly selected the right pocket earlier, when he'd been desperate for light. He never would have considered the scientist to be well prepared and organised, but now that he thought about it, he and his pack had come to the aid of the team on several occasions; sunscreen; snacks; band-aids; and the list went on.

He assumed all the stuff he'd found discarded earlier was still in there. Maybe he should check it. A long time ago he had berated the scientist for carrying around worthless junk; today he had been proven wrong, and had seen a courageous side of Rodney McKay, a side he always knew was there, but had never seen demonstrated.

He paused with his hands still on the scientist's pack, and then he slid off the bed dragging it with him, by it's straps. He placed it on the chair next to his bed. He couldn't bring himself to open it, and he wasn't sure why.

Was it something about personal privacy? More likely it showed that John was depending on the scientist's return to health and consequently, he would watch while McKay opened it himself, most probably griping all the while for his lost gear.

Returning stiffly to his bed he lay back, idly scratching at one ankle where the wool irritated, and he thought how great it would be right now, to be irritated by one immodest, Canadian scientist.

oOo

He must have dozed again, and he awoke feeling dry-mouthed and angry at his own weakness. The infirmary was quiet, he and Rodney being the only guests.

The squeaky entrance of a wheeled bed had him sitting upright quickly. It was Carson and a nurse, both decked out in surgical gowns and caps, masks hanging loosely around their necks. They were pushing an unconscious and wire strewn, Rodney McKay.

"Carson..how is he?"

Beckett did a bit of a double take.

"You still here lad? Y'alright?", he asked, tiredly.

"Yes, yes..", he dismissed the doctor's concern, "But how's McKay?"

Beckett sighed and snatched off his cap, crumpling it in his palm, knuckles white.

"He's poorly just now, John. We removed the sliver, repaired the damage... but there's infection, which is unfortunate, given his weakened condition. But he'll get through this, I'm sure."

While the nurse settled her patient, Carson turned to John, his eyes narrow and appraising.

"I suppose ye'll be wantin te stay?"

John said nothing but it was apparently enough for the psychic doctor.

"For a while only, colonel..", he announced briskly, " ..what Rodney needs is rest, and so do you."

As he gave McKay a final check, Carson said, "I'll have Katie, here, keep an eye on you... both of you."

oOo

Really should get dressed, he thought.

He looked down at the pale blue scrub pants, navy sweater and gray security blanket that was his present outfit. Elizabeth had been by, she had patted Rodney's hand and hadn't asked why John was still sitting at his bed side, dressed like a vagrant. Scratting once more at his itchy ankles, he returned to his contemplation of the man beside him.

All at once, mumbles emanated from the bed.

"No... m'not... don't... Sheppard!"

This last, was delivered in a high-pitched croak, that broke in the middle and ended in a sob.

John leapt immediately to his feet and leaned over Rodney.

He was white-faced and sweaty, his hands were up and plucking ineffectually at his face, snagging against the oxygen mask that was over mouth and nose.

"Don't c-cover me... ", and his head moved from side to side, weakly,"..m'not dead.."

John tried to hold down the quaking shoulders and considered calling for help. Suddenly, though, Rodney's eyes flew open, and John could see now that the man really was out of it... the glassy, unfocussed eyes looked, but did not register his presence; maybe Rodney saw someone, but it was not John.

"Take me home... they're looking for me...", his hands had now latched onto John's arms, and his head was up. Sheppard could see his neck muscles tense.

"Sssh... come on, McKay... you're home now..."

"Can't stay...", but he was already flagging, his shoulders sagged under John's fingers and his arms fell back slackly to lie at his sides. He took some halting breaths, and gave a few deep exhales.

A nurse appeared at Sheppard's elbow and wordlessly handed the colonel a damp cloth. At first he stared down at it, puzzled. Then he heard a tutting from the nurse and he met her eyes; she nodded her head towards her feverish patient, and, as the light dawned, John coloured slightly, embarrasssed he hadn't caught on quicker.

He laid the cloth against McKay's hot forehead, and looking sideways witnessed the nurse discarding an empty syringe in a tray and carefully adjusting Rodney's IV.

"He should sleep soundly for a good while now, sir. Why don't you go have something to eat?", she said kindly, as she lifted Rodney's wrist and glanced at her watch.

She gave him a second or two, as he considered, and she counted; but then she laid down the hand and said almost reluctantly,

"To be honest, sir.. Dr Beckett said I should insist..", and she looked sheepishly at him.

John saw that McKay had settled and decided suddenly that he was, actually, very hungry.

"I can come back though, right?", it almost sounded like begging.

"Yes, sir, of course", she answered warmly. As she turned to leave she glanced back...

"...but you might want to get dressed first, sir."

oOo

TBC and thanks for reading!