Chapter Eleven
Voices kept telling him it would be okay. He knew a lie when he heard it.
Someone, not the Someone, but someone (with a small 's') slowly approached him and tried to take his weapon. He struck, all instinct, and was pleased with a howl of pain. That would make them think twice before they tried anything else.
"We need to move. Frost just radioed to say that the jumper's attracting a lot of attention."
"How do you propose we get him out? He's armed, and the sedatives are on the jumper." It was Someone, the guy with the Scottish brogue. Who had a name but he couldn't remember what it was.
"We can tackle him, or I can get someone to run them back. Corporeal Hicks!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Get back to the jumper and grab the Doc's med kit."
"Yes, sir!"
The tallest man of the bunch stepped forward. "I can take him. He's not that strong."
The other guy, Someone, answered him. "Ronon, I'm not having any more people get hurt. As it is, Apone's going to have to have plastic surgery to patch up his hand."
"He's not going to be much of a challenge. I can do this."
Like hell. Like hell. Like hell.
((--))
"Any suggestions about how we're going to disarm psycho boy?"
"That's not helping, Rodney," said Carson gently as he sized up the condition of Sheppard as best he could. Although it was kind of tough as Sheppard was crouched in a corner, holding the fireplace poker. The poker had an interesting design in that the end was sharpened and it resembled a spear. Sheppard couldn't stand up straight, but it seemed he had just enough get-up-and-go left to run someone through.
His other problem was Rodney. Whose face was a mess. A broken nose at a minimum, and Carson was concerned about the state of Rodney's eyes, considering the swelling. Also rather disturbingly, Rodney was coiled tighter than a spring. Rodney wasn't exactly the calmest person even at the best of times but this version of Rodney was just about ready to bounce off the walls. Carson put it down to a combination of stress, shock, pain and adrenaline. Unfortunately a more thorough examination of Rodney's injuries was going to have to wait until they got to a jumper. The fact that he could walk and talk would have to do for now.
Lorne and another marine had tied the other monks with plastic cuffs, including Benevolent Father but there was a still an urgent need to vacate the area. Carson could more than understand Rodney's anxiety about getting out as fast as possible.
He hoped Hicks didn't take too long to get back with the kit.
"Instruction zero executed."
Rodney whirled around in alarm at the sound of the voice, as did Carson.
"Rodney, I thought you said she'd take a day to run her diagnostics," said Carson, trying to keep his tone even in case the scientist took at as an insult.
"A day, five hours minimum."
"It's hardly been five hours," said Carson, again trying to keep his tone even. He'd been inside her and he was in no mood to have to sit in that miniature version of hell all over again. A paranoid part of him was telling him that even though the immediate threat was neutralized, Machine would find a way to get what she wanted.
"Okay, the five hours may have been an optimistic estimate. The data wasn't clear."
"Instruction One begin. Power up sequence initiates in thirty minutes."
Rodney and Carson both simultaneously checked their watches. Rodney turned back to Carson. "If it's any consolation we now know exactly how much time we have. Thirty minutes."
"Rodney, what exactly do you think she's going to do when she powers up?"
"She just go back to doing what she's always done. Except for the little problem of the overload I set up in the ZPMs with my subroutine."
"You're telling me she's going to blow up?"
"Machine? No, she'll just die. I think the facility under us might be problematic though. The power surge isn't going to be pretty."
"So, we're all going to blow up in half an hour?"
"Give or take a minute, yes," said Rodney. For some reason Rodney didn't seem particularly concerned, and that was another reason for Carson to be concerned.
"Power level at point one." Machine announced in a completely deadened tone.
Sheppard's line of sight was fixated on the being that was Machine and he'd clearly decided that he wasn't going to wait around for the thirty minutes to pass. He was using the wall to haul himself upright, using one hand to keep hold of the poker.
"I won't go back," he said. His whole body was shaking and his tone said if it came down to it, he'd take a real death over another round with Machine.
Carson took a chance, hoped that somehow Sheppard would recognize him as a friendly face.
"John… We're going to leave now and we're going back to Atlantis. You're coming with us."
Sheppard didn't lose his grasp on his metal safety blanket but he did seem to be processing the words Carson had spoken.
"I'm not going back?"
"No. We're not letting that happen. You can trust us."
Sheppard wasn't letting go of his weapon and Carson let it go. As long as he came with them, they could worry about it when they got to the jumper.
"Come on, just take a step forward."
Sheppard did as Carson asked. Took a tentative step forward. Still looking spooked. Carson didn't blame him.
"Power up sequence point two. Begin core purge."
Sheppard nearly jumped out of his skin, his respiration rate driving up even further. The only positive benefit was that he seemed to have reevaluated how much of a threat Carson and the others were when compared with Machine.
"I want to leave."
"You've got it." Carson caught Rodney's attention. "Rodney, can you make it? Need any help?"
"Not unless you can offer me drugs and as you can't, then no."
Carson offered Rodney an encouraging smile. "If it's any consolation, once we're back at Atlantis I'll make sure you get the good stuff."
"Oh, that's comforting. I'll just put up with my throbbing face a while longer."
The group departed - two of the marines on point, Lorne covering their backs. Lorne handed over his Glock 19 to Ronon and some plastic cuffs, just in case. Carson in the interim just wished they had a backboard, or a gurney. Something they could use to carry Sheppard. The pilot looked like he was about to keel over any minute, but he was still clinging to his miniature spear for all it was worth.
Ronon and Rodney led them back through the corridors, towards the Seer's room for an exit into the courtyard. As the approached the doors, Sheppard balked.
"You said I wasn't going back. Why are we here?" He was angry.
Carson realized that Sheppard associated the room with Machine. He left Machine, came here, and then went back to Machine. He reassured Sheppard again. "We have to go through this room to get to the jumper. Then we're gone."
Sheppard took two steps back. "I don't think so. Uh uh. No way. I'm not crazy."
The group had stopped, waiting for Sheppard to move forward.
"Doc… If he's not going to go willingly…," said Lorne.
Sheppard spared Lorne a glance that said if Lorne came towards him, Lorne was going to be run through and made into a kebab.
The sounds of running interrupted them all. Hicks arrived, coming up behind them, with no med-kit and bad news.
"We gotta go now. The monks are breaking out a bunch of weapons and we've got a whole bunch of angry men in brown robes getting ready to try and shoot the jumper. Taylor's moved the jumper to a new position by the gate."
Rodney's face was too bruised to offer his usual sarcastic expression but he did manage to say, "You mean the fortified gate, with the guards? That gate?"
Hicks shrugged. "Nowhere else to go that's got any open ground."
Lorne interrupted. "It's a good call and I don't know about everyone else but if we have to hit the gate with a drone to get this team out, that's fine by me."
"Me too," chimed in Sheppard. Although exactly what he was agreeing to, no one was sure.
With Hicks and Ronon in the lead, they ran back through the corridors towards the entrance and their only way out.
((--))
Okay, waiting time over. She'd waited through Plan A and through Plan B and having been informed that Plan B had run into problems, she'd ordered Plan C. Plan C involved backup jumpers, and Teyla.
"I will ensure they make it back to Atlantis, Elizabeth."
Teyla was dressed in BDUs, a squad of marines behind her. There were two other squads stationed in the Gateroom. She may have been tiny compared to the hulking sea of black tactical vests, helmets, and combat boots but absolutely no one in the room would have dared to suggest she was less of a fighter, or a liability.
Fact was, she could kick their asses. Every single one of them.
"I'm giving you command of this mission. Bring them back safely," Elizabeth said.
"Of course," replied Teyla with a slight smile. Then she turned and with the squad, exited Elizabeth's office and headed for the jumper bay.
((--))
He was running. Didn't know why, didn't know where. He knew he was running from the bad guys, or an all around bad person, and he knew he was running with a bunch of people who were probably the good guys. Or at least they weren't the bad guys and in his current state of confusion, that was enough for him.
Problem was, he was tired. Really tired. And running was proving to be a challenge he'd never previously experienced. He seemed to recall that he was fitter than this. Simply running down a bunch of corridors shouldn't have even made him break a sweat.
He could feel himself struggling for breath and his body began to force him to slow down.
The man trailing behind him, Someone, who clearly wasn't so good at the running thing, caught up with him. Someone however, was not out of breath. The other guy, the one with the busted nose and the black eyes wasn't looking so hot either.
"John? How are you feeling?"
He didn't get a chance to reply as the man grabbed his wrist and felt for the pulse. He tried to get his wrist back, the touch setting off a small brush fire of pain in his arm, but the man just held on. Then he made a 'tsk' sound at the result and signaled to the others. The really tall guy and the man named Sheppard thought might be called Lorne came over.
"He's in no condition to deal with this level of physical exertion. His pulse rate is through the roof. How long before we reach the jumper?"
"Ten minutes. Top," replied Lorne. "At a run."
The tall guy eyed them up, clearly trying to think through some solutions. "I'll pace Sheppard, make sure he gets to the jumper."
Someone turned his attention to the guy whose face had been pounded on. "Rodney, do you think you can last for another two minutes?"
"No. My face hurts every time I move. But if it's a choice between certain death and the pain then I guess I can put up with it for a bit longer."
Someone patted the man named Rodney on the arm. "Good man, Rodney. Like I said before, there's a big dose of painkillers waiting when you get in the jumper."
"Kudos to the pharmaceutical industry."
Lorne took Rodney's arm and got him between two of the marines. Also in the pack was the man who'd been skewered by Sheppard. Sheppard vaguely recognized him from the encounter and also because the flow of blood from his hand had been partially staunched by a makeshift bandage made from one of the wall hangings in the chamber.
Sheppard thought he should apologize to the man, because he clearly wasn't on the side of the people who'd been baking Sheppard's brain but before his sluggish brain could put the concept into action, the first group was moving away.
That left him, the Really Tall Guy and Someone.
He was flanked on both sides and Someone said, "Okay, just take it at your own pace, Colonel. No need to hurry."
Was this guy kidding? "I thought we were in danger of, well, of something. Knowing me, it's probably dying."
The Really Tall Guy and Someone didn't say anything but their expression said that his statement had probably been true.
They set off at nothing more than a slightly fast walk, and he tried, he really did, to pick up the pace, but every time he did, his body refused to work.
He was a man used to pushing the physical limits and he'd been trained to ignore any and all pain to reach an objective. The sheer exhaustion and mind blowing tiredness just struck him as completely wrong.
((--))
Rodney was being forced to run again and he didn't like it because he was running with a face rearranged courtesy of Tibs. Every time a knee came up, his face throbbed. Knee came down. Face throb. Foot hit cobblestones. Throb. Other foot hit cobblestones. Throb. Basically it was just one endless spasm of pain.
Lorne was trying to encourage him to keep up the pace. "Come on, McKay. You're doing fine. Not much more to go."
Anyone who'd done an aerobic workout knew that 'not much more to go' really meant 'sixty more seconds of breathing like an asthmatic'.
He didn't know what was going to happen when Machine powered up for certain, but he hoped it took her and the whole damn Abbey with it. Then he'd be happy.
He vowed to himself that he was going to spend at least four days back on Atlantis bitching about the experience to everyone, whether they wanted to listen or not.
McKay had enough time to ponder his first victim in the whining stakes, when something exploded.
((--))
The explosion rocked the structure as Carson, Ronon and Sheppard covered off the remaining distance to the jumper. Ronon staggered, temporarily caught off balance before recovering and putting out a hand to steady Sheppard. Sheppard winced, unable to hide how much being touched hurt him.
"What the hell was that?" Carson was concerned. "It's not Machine about to blow up, is it?"
"Probably the jumper hitting the gate with a drone. We should hurry." Ronon decided to err on underplaying his response because basically explosions were never good and meant that either someone was trying to get out or maybe someone was trying to get in. Either way it would cause problems as a blown gate meant a clear path for the war lords back into the Abbey.
It was going to get ugly.
((--))
Teyla's plan was to simply go in with the jumpers, and if someone was in their way - well, she'd make sure they weren't any more.
Something about the planet had irritated her and she rarely got irritated about much, having long ago learned to simply move on and let go of the past. The interminable hostage situation with the war lords at the gate, and the kidnapping of McKay and Sheppard had seen her normally compassionate side vanish. She wanted Sheppard and McKay back, and that was all there was too it. If every denizen within a twenty kilometer radius wanted to come here and fight, then they were more than welcome as long as it didn't interfere with her rescue plans.
When the three jumpers exited the stargate, uncloaked, and headed straight for the city, she figured it would attract the attention of everyone in the area. That suited her just fine. War lords converging on the area would make it tricky but it would be a distraction. If they were fighting each other, they wouldn't be fighting with the marines.
They called up the HUD to check the situation. The first jumper had already attracted its fair share of attention. It was hovering before the well fortified gate to the Abbey, the pilot clearly lining up for a good shot. The gate had only been partially blown apart. Behind the hovering jumper, a small crowd was already gathering, as well as a number of armed men on the local version of a horse. Behind the gates, monks ran, directionless, all clutching a variety of weapons, all looking like they could do some damage, whether deliberately or accidentally. Another group of monks were in the process of trying to assemble much bigger weapons out of parts being toted around by yet more monks.
"Jumper twelve, this is Teyla Emmagan on Jumper One. What is your status?"
"Jumper One, our status is relieved now that we've heard your voice. We're just about to use a drone to blow the Abbey gate and then land and get the rest of the team boarded. With you as cover it's going to make life a lot easier."
"We shall rendezvous with you in less than a minute. Teyla, out."
"Just follow the pretty lights. Weirzbowski, out."
Ten seconds later, a fireball went into the sky.
((--))
Carson was hugely relieved to see daylight. The door to the small outer area that would lead to the Abbey gate was open, the smell of smoke drifting through.
He was supporting Sheppard by one arm, Ronon had the other. They were caught between trying to keep Sheppard going, and knowing that the pressure of their hands was causing him pain. Sheppard had refused to let go of the makeshift spear even then, so they'd just let him keep his grip on it with his right hand.
If they could just make it to the jumper in one piece, he'd be a very happy man.
"Power up sequence completed. Initiation complete. Recommence simulation sequences for solution protocols."
Where the hell was that coming from?
Carson looked around, but couldn't see any obvious speakers. However, Machine's voice could be heard as clear as day.
He felt a tug – Sheppard was trying to make himself move faster. No guesses as to why.
"Request the Seer for continued operations."
That particular request brought Sheppard to a grinding halt. He looked behind him, seemingly expecting her to be right there with them.
"Request the Seer for continued operations."
And now the sound of a gong, or bell, or whatever, was echoing through the entire Abbey.
Sheppard tugged his arms free from both of them, backed up, all wariness. The poker-that-had-become-a spear was being repositioned into stabbing mode.
"Either of you come anywhere near me, I'm going to kill you both."
"Colonel, we don't have time for this. We're nearly to the jumper," said Carson. Apparently, he didn't sound convincing enough because Sheppard was backing up, both hands on the poker, the business end pointed towards them. He may have been completely loopy, but he still possessed killer instincts from years of training at his disposal.
Carson tried again, keeping his voice calm and low. "Colonel, I can understand why you wouldn't want to come with us but for your own safety-"
He didn't get a chance to finish because Ronon went from standing still to a full speed run in under a second and simply hurled himself into the side of Sheppard before Sheppard had time to react.
Sheppard hit the floor with a resounding thud, Ronon on top of him and Ronon simply wrestled the poker/spear from Sheppard's hands and threw it out of range.
"Ronon! What in God's name do you think you're doing?"
Ronon backed off Sheppard enough to help the stunned man to his feet. "I thought I would disarm him and he was too weak to put up much of a fight. Looks like I was right."
Sheppard struggled within Ronan's grip but failed to get anywhere. The entire adventure had taken far too much energy from a reserve that was running on empty.
It was right around then that Sheppard's knees buckled. Ronon quickly grabbed him, making sure he didn't fall and Carson slid into position on the other side, got an arm around Sheppard's waist.
"Let's go. I'm sick of this place," said Ronon.
"Seer? Report. Report now." Machine sounded as if she was verging on hysteria.
Carson and Ronon began moving forward, pretty much hauling Sheppard along with them. Disturbingly, he seemed increasingly distracted and unsurprisingly, in pain. He winced, threw his head back.
"John? What's wrong?" Carson's concern level was mounting and it was high to begin with.
The pilot didn't answer him, just let out a groan, and shut both his eyes. Ronon glanced over at Carson, also concerned.
"Doc, if you can pick up the pace on your side, that would be a great idea," suggested Ronon.
"Noted," replied Carson. He began putting more in effort into dragging the almost dead weight of Sheppard with them.
Sheppard's eyes abruptly opened, and he tried to stop. "I have to go back. Machine calls me."
"What? No," said Ronon.
"Machine requires assistance. Reset required." Sheppard intoned in a voice that sounded like the male equivalent of Machine.
"What the hell is wrong with him, Doc?" Ronon was trying to keep the momentum going but Sheppard was struggling again. He wasn't winning but he was making it damn hard for them to keep going.
"I don't know. Some sort of connection with Machine perhaps? Just keep him moving."
Sheppard pulled back against them again, digging in his heels, leaning back like a child trying to run off from his parents. "Cannot verify solution. Confirm cessation of all activity."
Ronon tugged back. "Come on! We don't have the time."
"Solution terminated mid-point. Confirm cessation of all activity." Sheppard stopped talking. Breathed hard. Seemed to come back to who he was. "Machine needs me. She's going to die."
Carson decided that he'd had enough. They had to get back to the jumper and the time for niceties had probably past. Machine had powered up, and according to Rodney, right about now, a bunch of ZPMS were getting ready to blow the whole place to smithereens. Upon reflection, Ronon had the right idea.
"Ronon, how many cuffs have you got?" He tried to hold the conversation with Ronon while Sheppard continued to try and get out of their grasp, his strength ratio the equivalent of a feisty kitten.
"Lorne gave me six. You planning what I think you're planning?"
"You think you can carry him?"
"Sure. I've done it a couple of times when he was out." Ronon handed two cuffs over to Carson. "You cuff him, I'll hold him."
Sheppard was no fool. He had heard the entire conversation. He changed tactics, moved towards them, feigning a hit to Carson, which Ronon neatly intercepted.
Ronon efficiently grabbed both of Sheppard's arms, placing them behind his back, while Carson put on the cuffs. That just left the feet. Ronon didn't even hesitate but bodily picked Sheppard up and threw him over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. Sheppard tried kicking Ronon. Ronon put his forearm behind Sheppard's knees, effectively locking them down enough not to do any damage.
Carson moved in and with a bit of struggling and holding of one foot, he looped the cuff around the ankle and then held the other and tied them both together.
"Okay, Ronon, he's secure."
"Put me down!" Sheppard was not happy.
"When we get to the jumper. Until then, you're coming along on the ride whether you like it or not, lad."
They turned and started back towards the jumper. As they do so Machine began to wail.
((--))
Rodney was aboard the jumper, seated in the back while two marines stood at the entrance holding P-90s, along with Lorne. A couple of monks had tried giving them grief but the marines had shot them where the stood. One of the jumpers sent by Atlantis had landed and a squad of marines were providing backup and Lorne had the shield up just to be safe.
As the hordes on the outside of the town were gathering courage to storm the place, it didn't seem that they would be that safe for much longer.
Then again, all he really cared about was that his face continued to throb and seemed to be hurting even more, now that he'd had a chance to relax slightly. He also noticed that his eyelids had swollen up so much that his field of vision was extremely limited. Rodney McKay would be of little use in this fight.
"They're coming! Lower the shield!"
Rodney tipped his head back to try and see more clearly. Ronon and Carson were half running towards them, Ronon finding it hard under the dead weight on his back. One Lt. Colonel John Sheppard, slung over his right shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
A fairly active sack of potatoes who kept screaming, "She needs me! Put me down!"
On a positive note, Rodney was sure he no longer held the record for least dignified entrance into a jumper or Atlantis. His encounter with the arrow in his butt having been the winner for nearly a year. With any luck being lugged on board by team mates while cuffed and completely insane and trying to get back to the very thing that had caused the insanity in the first place would easily displace his arrow humiliation.
Ronon lowered Sheppard none to gently onto the bench in the back of the jumper, while Lorne cycled the hatch closed.
They were airborne before Carson had the time to get the med kit out of its compartment. The other three jumpers also cleared and flew with them in formation.
As they pulled away, Sheppard's pleas began changing in nature. They weren't quite as amusing any more. It was less about the wording and more about whimpering.
Shit. What the hell had the bitch example of Ancient technology done to him?
"You'd better come and see this." It was Weirzbowski, the pilot. "All of you."
Rodney managed to haul himself to the front, along with Ronon, and Lorne. Beckett stayed in back with Sheppard, trying to get him to calm down.
Rodney looked down at the Abbey and noticed something disturbing. The ground was buckling underneath it. Openings, fissures rocking the place, crumbling where it stood. It was bending in on itself, as if a giant energy field could no longer be contained. The jumper bucked, caught in an eddy that blew up from the surface.
In the back of the jumper, Sheppard was screaming in earnest, his voice rasping and harsh. "There is no solution! There is no solution! I have been for nothing."
Rodney heard Carson over the top of the screams. "Colonel, it's alright. I'm just going to sedate you. It'll be fine." Carson was trying to draw up a syringe but having to concentrate as Weirzbowski tried guiding the jumper clear.
The ground beneath the Abbey gave way. Monks ran here and there, some got away, some were pulled into the ground as it went.
For a brief moment, Rodney had a view of a vista that made his heart almost stop. Machine. The rest of Machine. Another whole tier of diseased, throbbing organism. Then the parts under Machine. The labs, a long disused jumper, and corridors, and halls and the room where he had left Tibs and for a second he thought he saw Tibs there. The whole place opened up like an architectural diagram and then - it was fracturing apart in a blaze of light.
"Everyone hold on!"
He didn't know who'd said it, but hold on he did. The jumper rocked around in the sky, Weirzbowski fighting to keep it level. Lorne managed to get into the co-pilots chair and help him stabilize the craft.
The light went quickly and all that Rodney could see when the light faded was nothing. Nothing left at all but a big hole in the ground. The town around it was mostly gone as well.
Rodney let out a sigh of relief and turned around to head into the back of the cockpit. Stopped in shock.
Sheppard was curled up on his side, still cuffed, and he was crying.
"I have been for nothing."
((--))
The ride through the stargate was rapid, as always. They were back in Atlantis before they could blink and Carson had always found the sensation slightly disconcerting. One second they were in danger of being sucked into a whirling vortex created by an insane biological computer and the next it was back to the relative safety of Atlantis. A calm sea breeze, meatloaf from the cafeteria, reports to catch up on. The mundane flotsam of life catching up on them in a few hours.
As soon as they were moving into the bay, Carson hit the radio and ordered up two gurneys. From his basic examination of Rodney in the two-minute trip back to Atlantis, it wasn't hard to spot the amount of damage to Rodney's face. Carson was more than happy to allow the man to be wheeled back to the infirmary and as promised, he gave Rodney some painkillers in the shape of vicodin. Sheppard also needed to be off his feet and avoid the physical exertion.
Sheppard was still curled up, sobbing. Carson didn't really know what he could do. His automatic reaction was to reach out a hand, to try and offer some comfort, but Sheppard's pain receptors were over sensitized and all Sheppard had done was abruptly pull away as if he'd been burnt. Carson also debated about whether he should still administer the sedative, then decided against it. He'd be unable to conduct a neurological examination if the man was out for the count. Instead he went into the kit for a pair of shears and cut off the plastic cuffs from Sheppard's wrists and ankles. The only response he got was Sheppard pulling his hands to the front of his chest, in a protective gesture.
Well, the med team would be here soon enough. Then he could try to figure out what was going on in earnest. Until then, he would just have to continue to hope the effects were temporary.
He didn't even want to contemplate what they would do if the damage was permanent.
((--))
Elizabeth made her way to the infirmary as fast as she could, intercepted by Teyla as she boarded one of the transporters.
"You did a great job," she said to Teyla, her voice thick with the emotion of the moment.
"It was a team effort," replied Teyla, modest as always. "But I am glad I could assist in bringing them back."
"I'm glad too. For all our sakes."
((--))
Rodney was pretty sure he'd feel a whole lot happier, if Sheppard would stop crying. He'd been crying non stop since they wheeled him in, and seemed unable to quit. Dr. Paul was working on Rodney, while Carson tried to assist Sheppard. Paul had expressed concern at the condition of both his eyes, but the pen light didn't reveal any immediate damage and he could focus enough to read, so she'd scheduled him for an exam with the ophthalmologist, stat. She finished putting a butterfly strip over his right eye to close up a cut and then said that after his eye sight was checked, it would be a trip down to the dentist to get his teeth taken care of.
He listened to Dr. Paul reel off the list off all the things he had to have done and he listened to Sheppard in the background, quietly sobbing to himself and Rodney was sure he'd be enjoying the vicodin more if everyone would just go away and leave him alone.
Sheppard's display of emotion was freaking him out. Sheppard didn't do emotions. Mostly he was just one level, with the occasional smile. Crying was definitely not on the agenda. Worse, it just reminded him of all the ways he'd failed Sheppard. Sheppard was in the mess because Rodney hadn't been brave enough to stick up to Tibs. That's what he was telling himself. Shutting up and trying to play by the rules had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. He wasn't sure about that any more. A loud inner voice, wracked by guilt, was screaming at him with the same phrase everyone liked to use when talking to him.
It's all your fault.
To add to the Rodney's discomfort, Sheppard hadn't done much, just remained curled on the gurney with tears rolling down his face. Carson had spent a few minutes trying to get Sheppard to respond and determine if he was in any pain. He'd heard Carson mutter to an assistant that it, "Seems a lot like a concussion." Sheppard was unresisting through the process of Carson checking his heart, and lungs, but refused to comply with any requests to follow Carson's finger or flex his feet or hands or answer any questions.
A technician came over, carrying a blood kit.
"I just want you to draw one vial for a CBC once I get the IV in. Get me the hemoglobin level stat," said Carson.
Rodney looked at Carson, vaguely curious. Normally if they came anywhere near sickbay, Carson was ordering up blood work that would have made Vlad the Impaler a happy camper.
"I don't know how much Machine drew out of him. I'm not taking any more than is necessary," said Carson as he began setting up for an IV. Carson called over to one of his nurses, "Get me an 18-guage needle and a saline lock, love. And grab me a bag of Ringer's Lactate."
The nurse did as he asked, and Rodney could only continue to be amazed at the lack of responsiveness in Sheppard.
Dr. Paul broke his attention. "I'm going to get a scan and check you haven't got any fractures. The nose is going to have to be reset but I can't do that until the swelling goes down. That's going to take about four weeks."
"What?! My nose is going to be crooked for four weeks?"
"So, it's temporary. Yes, that's completely right Dr. McKay."
Sarcastic little minx. Rodney tried scowling at her but couldn't pull it off with his face looking and feeling like it was made of putty, and he figured that Beckett had been talking to all of his doctors about how to handle McKay. She handed him a cold pack.
"Put this over your eyes. It'll help with the swelling."
He did as he was told, put the pack over his eyes, and then Dr. Paul closed the curtains between the beds so he couldn't see Sheppard any more, while someone else went and got the scanner.
((--))
Elizabeth was always conflicted about her trips to the infirmary. She was always pleased to have her team back. She was never pleased with whatever she found.
She walked into the infirmary area and found Carson about to get an IV going on Sheppard. He had the needle ready over the back of the left hand and Sheppard seemed not to be taking any notice. Instead, he was lying on his side, staring blankly at a wall. Occasionally he sniffed, but seemed to be unaware of the activity around him.
Carson ignored her entrance, and instead concentrated on the task before him. "Just relax there for a moment. You'll just feel a wee pain in your hand and then it's all over."
Carson placed the needle and the catheter against Sheppard's skin so he could begin inserting it into the vein and that's as far as he got. Sheppard went from inert, to action, even though he shouldn't have been able to. He sat bolt right up, pushed Carson backwards.
"I fucking told you assholes, that if you ever touched me again, I was going to fucking kill you!" With that, he attempted to get off the gurney.
The medical team swiftly moved into action, restraining Sheppard as he attempted to get away. Carson also recovered swiftly, helping in the fray. Carson was once more shouting orders. "Someone draw me up ten milligrams of diazepam and let's see if we can get him to calm down a bit. He's touch sensitive so everyone back off as soon as he looks like he's under."
Sheppard was valiantly still trying to get off the gurney, as four nurses, and Beckett held him down. The syringe was passed to Carson in record time, and Carson aimed for the shoulder muscle and plunged.
The reaction was swift, and disturbingly pathetic. Sheppard reacted to the injection with a yell but then almost abruptly began to calm down. Then he began to speak and Elizabeth thought her heart was going to break.
"I'll be good, I promise. I'll be good. I really will, I'll try real hard. Don't be mad." Sheppard was whispering the words to Carson in a voice that was small and childlike.
Carson seemed unable to respond for a moment. He reached over with a hand, to pat Sheppard on the shoulder, but then thought better of it and put his hand down. "Lad, I'm not mad at you, so don't worry. Nothing's going to happen to you."
"You always say that, Dad, but it's never true."
Carson was at a complete loss for words by that point. He put himself back to his main task, explained it all to Sheppard again, and then finally managed to get an IV started in the dorsal arch on the back of Sheppard's left hand. By the time he'd finished, Sheppard was asleep.
Taking a step back from the gurney, Carson recomposed himself and ordered a scan for Sheppard, as well as getting him bathed and changed.
"Watch him carefully. Any further alteration in his neurological status, get me."
The team nodded, went to work and Carson turned around to take a breath. He finally noticed Elizabeth.
She'd been keeping quiet, trying to observe without getting in the way, and feeling like a voyeur in the process. "Dare I ask what the prognosis is?"
Carson sighed, rubbed a weary hand through his hair. "I can't tell you much right now, except I'm going to proceed as if he's got a concussion and go from there. When I've got the results of the scan and the CBC, I'll know more. Until then, it's anyone's guess. Although he did eventually start to recover after his encounters with Machine."
"You don't think it's permanent, do you?"
"I honestly don't know."
"How's Rodney?"
"Beat up. Fractured nose. Broken teeth. An ophthalmologist is checking his eye sight and the dentist is going to look at the teeth. When they report back to me and I get the results of the scan, I'll let you know."
Elizabeth nodded. "Then they're both on medical leave for quite some time."
"Aye. That they are. That they are."
End of Chapter 11
