THE CONNECTION...part 9
He heard a familiar voice calling his name. Carson's voice. Carson, who was very very real. So John peeled his heavy eyelids open and blinked hard to bring the Scotsman's face into focus. "Hey..." he croaked.
"Welcome back, Colonel," Carson said, looking relieved, then he was holding out a glass of water and guiding the straw to John's mouth.
The cool water sliding down his parched throat felt like heaven. Even though Carson only allowed him a couple of sips. It made him feel better and John shifted, trying to ease the ache in his muscles only to realize something that made him very unhappy. He had an IV and a catheter. "How long was I out?" He asked the question, even though he wasn't all that sure he wanted to know the answer.
Carson made a strange face, something between a grimace and outright confusion with a touch of sadness, then he grabbed a chair and pulled it over. He was silent as he sat down, then he huffed a sigh and blurted out, "You've been in and out of it for nearly two days, Colonel."
"Oh." John was so surprised to hear that it had been that long, that he wasn't sure how to respond. He figured he was out for maybe a couple of hours. "Why...why so long?" he really hoped Carson could answer this one.
"Good question," Carson replied, looking bemused. He scratched his skin then admitted, "I can't figure it out to be honest. You're feverish, dehydrated, slipping in an out of awareness and various other symptoms, but your blood work and other tests are clean. You don't have a virus or any physical injury that would explain what's happening.
John made a scrunchy face, feeling a cold chill sweep over him that left him shuddering in its wake and Carson jumping up to grab another blanket to spread over him before checking his temp. The good Doc didn't look pleased. John wished he could tell him what was wrong. Tell him about the nanites. But he knew Carson wouldn't believe him. Thanks to Elizabeth, Carson would simply believe he really was cracking up. To be honest, John was starting to wonder about it himself.
He couldn't help but think about what Fletcher had said to him about reality. His reality. The real reality. Which was Atlantis. John knew he was where he belonged, he knew this was real, but even so he found himself reaching out to grab for Beckett's arm. He felt a rush of relief when he clutched at warm, solid, flesh.
"Colonel?" Carson looked surprised, staring at John's hand on his arm.
"Sorry." John pulled back and tried to curl up into a more comfortable position. But there was nothing comfortable about a catheter. "Um...could I use the bathroom...and take a shower?" He felt itchy and too warm even though he was a bit cold. He felt like he needed to wash off the memory of what had happened in the non reality so that he could better confront the real world. John knew he would have a fight on his hands trying to convince someone of what was happening. Rodney being his best bet on that front. But shower first. He needed to clear his head.
But Carson was giving him disapproving look. The one that said John was crazy if he thought the Doc was going to agree to his request.
So John made puppy eyes at him and begged. "Please? You can stay with me and everything, I just need to pee and feel clean."
"If I let you do this, do you promise to eat for me?" Carson was never above bargaining to get what he wanted.
"I'll eat whatever you give me," John promised, crossing the fingers of the hand that was hidden under the blankets. The last thing he was interested in right now was food, but he'd cross that bridge when the time came.
Heaving a sigh, Carson turned away and grabbed a pair of gloves from the box on the wall. "Fine. A quick shower though, and I'm putting the IV back when you're done."
John could live with that. He cooperated fully as Carson removed the catheter, only grunting a bit and making a face. Then the IV was gone and as John let himself be settled into a wheel chair, he made another request. "Can I wear my own sweats and a t-shirt?" He wasn't about to stay in a gown, but he didn't want to wear scrubs either.
"You get scrubs or a gown," Carson countered, his tone brooking no argument as he moved to the back of the chair and began pushing John towards the bathroom.
"Why not sweats?" John argued, because he really loathed the idea of wearing scrubs. He didn't want to think about that other place. Although he was already having a hard time getting the image of Fletcher to stop dancing in his head.
Carson heaved a dramatic sigh. "Because I said so, Colonel," he stated. "You get scrubs or a gown. Which will it be?"
Knowing that he wasn't going to win this argument, at least not at the moment, John relented and muttered, "Scrubs." They had reached the bathroom and he pushed out of the chair, surprised by how his knees buckled and the floor tilted and strong hands were suddenly supporting him.
"Easy now, Colonel," Beckett was saying from beside him. "Maybe we should get you back to bed and consider a shower later."
"No!" John found his footing as the dizziness passed and pushed away from Beckett. "I'm okay. I just...I stood up too fast." He hoped that was all it was, anyway.
At least Carson seemed to buy it. "I'll help you into the bathroom and get you into the shower then."
John wanted to argue he could get himself in the shower, but he realized he had to pick his battles. So he let Carson support him as he relieved himself, let the Doc help him strip off the gown, then he was finally left alone to wash up under the blessedly hot spray of water.
Time ticked by quickly, because one minute he was washing up and feeling like he was scrubbing and rinsing away the bad memories of Fletcher's world, and the next minute Carson was there, pulling him out of the water and practically drying him off and dressing him in white scrubs.
John was tempted to ask for the pink scrubs. Instead he let himself be pushed back into the chair, wheeled back to his bed, settled back in and hooked back up to the IV. He was actually starting to consider the merits of a nap, since he was feeling sleeping and worn out, when a figure appeared next to the bed, holding out a mug of something that was steaming.
Elizabeth smiled at John as she offered the mug. "Carson asked me to pick up a mug of broth on my way here," she stated.
Fear rippled through John in paralyzing waves. He couldn't move. All he could do was stare at Elizabeth.
"You promised me you'd eat, Colonel," Carson chided him, taking the mug and forcing it into one of John's hands.
But John wasn't about to accept anything Elizabeth offered him. She was the enemy. He knew that what was happening to him was her fault. Somehow she was still connected to the nanites. That had to be it. They were getting to him through her. It would explain everything. So John threw the mug at her, yanking the covers off and slipping off the bed. When Elizabeth stepped towards him, looking more surprised than scared, John backed away. He knew he had to keep his distance. "Stay away from me!" he screamed at her. And all his attention was focused on Elizabeth.
To the point where he didn't see Carson and a male nurse sneaking up on him until it was too late. They grabbed him and pinned him and John was too weak and worn out to fight against them. He felt a pinch in his shoulder, reminding him of the way Fletcher had drugged him. And maybe Fletcher was right. Maybe that was his real world or maybe Elizabeth was a part of that world that was bleeding into this one. Or maybe... John tried to stay focused but his vision was blurring at the edges, gray shading into black, voices becoming muffled, and then he was spiraling into oblivion.
OoO
He wasn't all that surprised to wake up and find his wrists in padded cuffs. He was a little bit surprised that he wasn't in his little room in Fletcher World. There was a curtain surrounding his bed now, a privacy curtain, but John knew he was still on Atlantis. Which he hoped was a good thing. It had to be the real thing.
He realized something else too. He was feeling sluggish and heavy. Carson must have him heavily drugged. Maybe Elizabeth told him to do that, to keep him from being able to think clearly. She was sick, infected. John had to figure out how to convince everyone else of that fact before it was too late.
"Colonel?"
He jerked, arms pulling at the restraints that held fast before turning his head to see Carson standing by his bed. He hadn't heard him approach. His mind felt too heavy, his thoughts fragmented, his focus dimmed. "Nanites," John whispered.
Carson sighed and shook his head. "I told you, son. I've tested you. You're clean."
"Elizabeth." John saw Carson's eyes go wide at that.
"She's clean too," Carson replied, once he got over his surprise. He patted John on the shoulder. "You need to rest, Colonel. Just concentrate on getting better."
John almost laughed at that. How did someone get better from going crazy, because he knew that's what everyone thought was happening to him. "I need to see Rodney." He could hear the desperation in his slurred tone. But John knew that Rodney would be the only one who would believe him. The only one who could help him.
Carson shifted a bit, looking decidedly uncomfortable. He hemmed and hawed long enough for John to realize something was wrong, before blurting out, "Rodney is off-world right now."
"What?" John was more than a little surprised to hear that.
"Lorne's team found an energy reading that could prove very interesting," Carson explained. "So Rodney went with them to check it out and Ronon and Teyla went to keep an eye on Rodney."
Which, effectively, left John alone with the enemy. He had no doubt but that Elizabeth had planned this somehow. "She's doing this," John whispered.
Carson leaned in to him, looking confused. "She who? And doing what?" he prompted.
"Elizabeth!" John spat her name, feeling his agitation rising. He pulled against the restraints, feeling panic surging. He had to get out of here. He had to find the proof of what was happening to him or he'd be trapped in between realities forever. "She's doing this to me!" John snarled, unable to keep his fear and anger in check. "She's keeping Rodney away from me! She knows he can help me!"
"John." It was Elizabeth who called his name as she approached them. And she wasn't alone. Kate was with her.
John wasn't that surprised to see her. They thought he was crazy, so of course they'd bring in the shrink. But he wasn't going to play this game. He glared at Elizabeth. "I know what you're doing," he hissed at her as he tugged on his bindings. She was moving too close and it made him nervous.
But Elizabeth didn't reach for him. She just stood there, arms crossed over her chest, putting on a sad face. "I want to help you, John," she said, letting sincerity shine through her voice. "That's all any of us want. Just to help you. You have to let us do that."
"Then let me talk to Rodney!" John kept tugging at the restraints, desperate to be free. He had to get out of here. He had to get to Rodney before it was too late.
"Take it easy, Colonel." It was Kate who approached him now, reaching out to grip one forearm to still his struggles. "I can help you get through this."
John glared at her. "I'm not crazy!" he shouted. "I just...you have to believe me!" He knew they didn't though. He could see the doubt and pity on their faces. He thought he saw satisfaction on Elizabeth's. But maybe he could get through to Kate. Maybe Elizabeth hadn't converted her yet. "I can prove I'm not crazy," he told her. "You just have to let me out of here. Let me find Rodney. He can help me prove it!" John knew he was begging for her to believe him, and he'd happily beg if it worked.
But it was Elizabeth who replied. "We know you're not crazy, John," she said in a soothing tone. Her diplomatic skills were in full display, but John wasn't buying it.
"This is all your fault!" he snarled at her. "You're doing this to me! Why?!" he screamed the question at her because he really wanted to know. Why did she betray him? In the end she would betray them all.
"Colonel, you need to calm down, lad." Carson was on his other side, reaching for John's arm, sedative in hand.
John tried to pull away, but the restraints held fast. He shook his head. "No! Please...don't!"
But it was Elizabeth he should have been watching out for. She reached for him, eyes brimming with sympathy and madness. "It's going to be all right, John. We're going to help you," she lied.
Then she touched him, her cold fingers curling over his arm and everything in John's world faded to black.
THE END...of part 9
