HAUNTED - Part 13
Elizabeth stood next to John's bedside, gaze locked on his pale face. "How is he?" she asked, when Carson appeared at her side.
The doctor sighed softly. "Not getting any better. Since he passed out on us so spectacularly yesterday, he's done nothing but sleep and it's almost like a drugged sleep. I have to admit it's got me a bit worried."
"But he didn't hurt himself when he fell, right?" Elizabeth had asked the question twice already, but John looked so pale and fragile and bruised that she felt compelled to ask it again.
"No, he didn't hurt himself," Carson replied, patiently. "We had a hold on him so we eased his fall. He just took us by surprise a bit."
Elizabeth nodded, her eyes never leaving John's face. "He's getting worse, isn't he?"
There was a long moment of heavy silence before Carson replied. "He's getting weaker. According to the information Rodney found, this did happen in a few extreme cases with the Ancients. And it does seem to have something to do with a specific type of gene, so to speak."
"Which, obviously, John has," Elizabeth interjected.
"Yes, I'd say it's very obvious," Carson conceded.
Finally turning away from John, mainly because looking at him made her want to cry, Elizabeth pulled Carson off into a private corner. "So how much longer is he going to be like this? Shouldn't he be getting better? He doesn't have the flashes hardly at all now."
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Carson then shuffled his feet for a moment, as if trying to avoid having to answer her. But after a moment he gave her the facts. "To be honest, I think the flashes he's having now are PTSS related and Kate agrees with me. But the rest of his symptoms, the fatigue and the blinding headaches and weakness are most definitely the after math of what happened on the planet. However, some of it can be connected to PTSS also. It's kind of a vicious circle effect right now."
"So what do we do to get him better?" Elizabeth felt somewhat exasperated and she realized her tone was sharp but she couldn't help herself.
"We support him and keep doing what we've been doing," Carson replied, knowing that this wasn't what Elizabeth wanted to hear. "The fact that he's so nauseous means he can't eat much and that's making him weak and tired, and the fact that he's basically starving is making the headaches worse and so on. Once again, a vicious circle."
Resisting the urge to grab something and throw it against the wall in frustration, Elizabeth made herself calmly state," Then break the circle."
Carson almost smiled at that. "Yes, that sounds easy enough, doesn't it? Unfortunately...it doesn't work that way."
"What about a feeding tube?" Elizabeth winced as she said it. She'd had an aunt in a nursing home and in the last few months of her life she'd had to have a feeding tube put in. Elizabeth had hated seeing it almost as much as her aunt had hated having it, but it had kept her alive a bit longer, until her heart simply gave out on her.
"I've thought about it," Carson conceded, but he looked disturbed. "It might help or it might not. Fueling the Colonel's body would help him feel stronger and it might actually help ease the nausea and allow him to start eating on his own. I also believe it would probably help his headaches, which helps the nausea factor and so on."
Elizabeth locked eyes with Carson. "Probably?" she prompted.
With a shrug Carson tried to explain. "It would help a bit for certain, but I think the headaches are more from the device and how it messed with the Colonel. And fatigue doesn't help."
"How can he be so tired and worn out when all he does is sleep?" Elizabeth found that hard to fathom.
"It's not a restful or healing sleep," Carson replied. "He's usually either passed out or I've drugged him into sleep."
"I see." Elizabeth did see and she didn't like the picture. "So, what you're telling me is that we really can't do anything but wait."
Carson didn't look happy, but he nodded. "Aye. Just be patient and supportive. Right now it's the best we can do."
Elizabeth patted Carson on the shoulder. She knew he was doing everything he could for John, and the effort he was making showed in the lines on his face and the dark circles under his eyes. "Keep me updated."
"Aye." Carson gave a sad smile then drifted away.
Elizabeth returned to her office, but her thoughts were on Sheppard and not her work.
OoO
John came back to fuzzy awareness. He blinked hard when he saw a blob next to his bed and after a moment it focused into the image of Teyla. She was sitting in a chair with a book on her lap, but she must have sensed he was awake because she looked up and smiled. Then she was on her feet and moving to his side.
"How are you feeling, John?" Teyla queried.
"B-bet..." he broke off coughing and couldn't stop until Teyla pressed a straw between his lips and he managed to swallow some cool water.
Laying him back against the pillows, Teyla asked, "Better?"
John nodded, wincing as pain flickered in his temples. It was a more dull pain now, not the sharpness that tended to steal his breath away. "Better," he whispered. He managed to lift one hand off the blanket, but barely an inch, and waggled his fingers in her direction. "No crutches."
"No, I have this now." Teyla reached for the object next to the chair and held it up. A cane. "It allows me to move about more easily."
"Good." John was glad she was doing better. Glad and a trifle jealous. He was tired of being so sick and tired all the time.
Teyla was watching him closely and she touched his arm to draw his attention back. "You must be patient, John," she said, as if reading his mind. "Dr. Beckett is certain you will get better, as is Rodney...but it will take time."
John sighed and fumbled for her hand. It scared him to realize how weak he was that it took and effort just to hold Teyla's hand. "I'm trying," he told her, because he was. It just frustrated him that his body seemed to be fighting against him.
"Colonel!" Carson's brogue interrupted anything John might have said.
"Doc," John replied, hearing how weak even his voice sounded. He said nothing as Carson checked his vitals, but when the Doc was done he asked, "How long was I out?"
Carson clucked his tongue. "Not that long," he replied. "What matters is that you're back with us. How are you feeling?"
John was feeling stubborn. "How long?" he persisted.
"Almost two days," Carson replied, looking chastised.
"Guess that explains the extra IV." John had noticed it attached to the spot just above his left elbow. The second time Carson had put an IV there on him.
Moving to fiddle with that particular IV line, Carson nodded. "More nutrients, Colonel. Speaking of which, do you feel up to eating?"
Eating was the last thing John felt like doing. He shifted in the bed, his muscles feeling achy, and it hit him that the catheter was back which pissed him off. Everyone told him to be patient, but he just kept taking giant steps backwards. If he could just move forward even a baby step, then at least he'd feel like he was making progress. "Not hungry," he replied, almost sullenly.
"Yet you have to eat something," Carson stated. "You know that."
"Why?" John held Carson's gaze and let the anger he was feeling shine through. "What's the point? Is it going to make me better? No! Nothing helps! Not these stupid things!" Before anyone could react, John had ripped the IV out of his left arm, not even feeling the pain of the needle pulling out and tearing his skin.
Carson and Teyla were both on him, trying to stop him from further damage and it shook John more than anything else might have, that they both held him down so easily. John closed his eyes against the sting of tears. "Sorry," he whispered, because he didn't know what else to say.
Teyla held his right arm easily with one hand. The other hand she lifted to cup his face. "It will be all right, John," she whispered.
But he wasn't listening. The pain in his temples was pounding too loud for him to hear her.
OoO
John was surprised when nothing more happened to him but that Carson replaced the IV and then gave him something to make him sleep. When he woke up it was to find a nurse checking his line. She offered him some water and asked if he needed anything. John told her no. He just wanted to be left alone.
He apparently dozed off for a bit, because Carson was suddenly there with a mug of soup. John didn't have the energy to argue with him so he took a few sips, ignoring the nausea that coiled in his belly. He was relieved when Carson patted his shoulder then left him alone.
He dozed off again but woke up with bile in his throat. A nurse appeared in time to get a basin under him and John puked until his insides curled up on themselves. He felt like he was in a haze as he was cleaned up, his gown changed, and someone wiped his face with a cool cloth. He slept again.
Soft voices woke him this time and John felt fuzzy as he stared at the people at the foot of his bed. A moment he blinked them into focus. Beckett and Kate. John wasn't surprised to see her.
Noticing he was awake, both doctors approached him. "How are you feeling, Colonel?" Carson asked.
"Tired," John whispered. His voice felt raw from the puking.
"I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes if you feel up to it," Kate interjected.
John didn't have the energy to argue with her, so he said nothing.
Kate took that to be acquiescence and accepted the chair Carson fetched for her. She watched the Doc leave then she focused on John. "I know you're going through a rough patch right now, Colonel. I'd like to help you if I can."
"Can you make me better?" John blurted out. He didn't expect a reply to that, he was just too angry not to lash out, even though his anger was really directed at himself.
"I can't help your body heal," Kate replied. "But I think I could help you deal with the fact that it's going to take time for you to get better."
John felt like laughing, but it would take too much energy and he had none. "I'm tired," he whispered, letting his eyes close. And he didn't move until he heard her chair scrape on the floor and her footsteps fade away.
Then he left himself drift into a fitful oblivion.
THE END...of part 13