A/N: And for you hurt/comfort junkies... :)
Chapter 28
For seven blurry days John's universe narrowed down to three things – pain, nightmares, and the jungle. The pain was a brain numbing, heart pounding, constant presence that sat on his stomach and made every breath hell. The nightmares were less frequent, but no less agonizing, and their theme was always the same – Kolya and Chaya torturing him. He was either in the lab, strapped to the table, or down in the cell with the vampire watching and cheering them on. In one particularly vivid one, he was strapped to the table, split open from throat to dick, and Kolya and Chaya were happily digging around in his guts. They would pull something out, make pleased little noises like two kids with the world's best toy box, then show it to him. But his hands were free, and every time he'd snatch back whatever organ they were holding and try shoving it back in, they would be back in up to their elbows, pulling something else out. Then he started to feel a horrible pressure, and both of them backed off when two immense clawed hands pushed up from his belly, grabbed hold of the gaping sides of the incision, and stretched it wider. Soon the top of a flat panther head filled the space, and John recognized the pattern of darker markings against the midnight fur. His father's amber eyes narrowed reproachfully at him, and he started screaming and babbling as he pushed and pushed and tried to get that fucking head shoved back down into his guts.
Then the smell of leaves and earth washed over him and the images faded to black. When the nightmares hit, they always ended with that wave of scent, and peace would flood him immediately thereafter. Usually the scent was followed by the soft susurrus of rain on a jungle canopy, then soon he was padding along silently down a game trail, the feel of loam under his pads as he stalked his territory. Sometimes he would be climbing great mounds of stone long since claimed by the jungle, their friezes and purpose long since forgotten by men, and other times he'd be in the drier, more open pine forests of western Montana. But in either case, he would be at peace for awhile, until the pain intruded and started the cycle all over again.
Eventually there came the time he awoke, and the pain wasn't a ten-ton elephant camped out on his navel, and he could actually form a coherent thought. And that thought was, Fuck, it still hurts and I can still smell the jungle.
Each shallow breath he took sent fire through his guts, and as he laid there he came to realize there actually was a spot on him that didn't hurt – his left elbow. After a dozen more breaths he decided that his ears didn't hurt, either. That was when he had his second truly coherent thought. They have me on some really good shit. He chuffed, and the sudden jump of his diaphragm and abdominal muscles made him moan deep in the back of his throat. The scent of leaves and fresh turned earth grew stronger and he cracked open gummy eyes. He had to blink a few times before they focused, and when his vision cleared he found Teyla looking down at him. Huh – it was her scent he was picking up all this time. He took in another breath, and this time his brain processed other things as well – soap, fabric softener, tea, and hospital. She put her cool hand on his forehead, and he closed his eyes and groaned because it was the most wonderful thing he had ever felt in his life.
Hello, John, Teyla said, and her voice floated through his mind like a cool breeze on a summer night. It is wonderful to finally see you awake.
John opened his eyes and blinked until his vision cleared again, but did not speak, in either voice.
"I will let Dr. Beckett know," she replied, a hint of a worried frown crossing her features. Then she was gone, but her scent lingered.
John rolled his head a little to the left and all he could see were machines. And tubes. To many fucking tubes. He focused on the ceiling again, and absently wondered how they got the tiles to look like weathered sandstone. Never noticed that before. Then new but familiar scents washed over him and he was blinking up at both Carson and Keller a second later. The bruising around Carson's cheek and eye was down to a few dirty brown and yellow smudges, and the stitches were gone from the gash. It was a thin red line, now, about three inches long. Keller's circles were gone, and she just seemed … perky. God, he could not deal with perky right now.
"Here, now – good to see yae with your eyes open and actually focused for a change," Carson said and smiled. "Yae gave us quite a scare – been in and out with a nasty fever for the last week." Then his expression grew serious and he lowered his voice. "Do you remember what happened, son?"
John's eyebrows furrowed and he didn't need to hear the heart monitor to know his pulse shot up a bit. Before his breathing got too out of control he felt a cool hand on his bare shoulder, and the coolness seemed to spread through his entire body a second later. He rolled his head to the right and saw Teyla standing there. He closed his eyes and kept them shut until his pulse slowed again. Then he was back staring up at the ceiling, the faces just in his peripherals. He felt a hand on his other shoulder, this one warm and strong and reassuring. He turned his head back towards Carson.
"Get some rest, John. You're safe now," Carson said.
John gave his chin a faint lift and closed his eyes. He fell asleep shortly thereafter, and for the first time in days didn't have a nightmare.
-oOo-
The rest of the day for John was just a series of naps. Teyla was there every time he opened his eyes, and even when he didn't open them he could smell her comforting scent. She spoke to him several times, but he never replied. He offered her a few faint smiles, but that was about all he could really muster. But she would just reassuringly smile back to his silence and not push it, and put a hand lightly on his shoulder or forehead. She hid her anxiousness well – the few times he did pick it up it was such a brief, tenuous thing he wasn't sure he'd sensed it correctly. The same went for Carson or Keller whenever they popped in for a quick check. They smiled, too, but they couldn't hide what they were really feeling like Teyla could, and each time the raw emotion left him drained to the point he'd doze off shortly thereafter.
He could only imagine what she was picking up from him right now, and it was no wonder she had dark circles under her eyes by the end of that day.
When John woke up the next morning he was all alone within his little curtained off area that passed for a private room. That suited him just fine, really – must be the cat in him, because when he felt miserable, and especially now since he was thinking a little clearer, he just wanted to be left the hell alone. He pulled his right hand out from under the blankets and rubbed his face, then scratched at his week old beard. He'd noticed the day before they didn't have a gown on him, and when they checked his gut he deliberately kept his eyes closed. Now he could delay the inevitable no longer, and, with a shitload of trepidation, pushed the blankets down into his lap and looked down. He stared for nearly a minute at the line of staples that started about three inches below his belly button (but not through it) and ended just below his sternum. His entire belly was brown and yellow from bruising, and he could see dozens of red spots in clusters of two all over his belly. It took his brain a second to remember what caused them, and his heart monitor shot up noticeably. There were also two other stapled incisions low on his belly to either side but not even with each other, and sticking out of his left side was about four inches of tubing that ended in a squeeze ball a quarter of the way filled with pinkish fluid. Then he reluctantly lifted the blankets. And promptly let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding when he saw everything was still intact. He settled the blankets back and ran his fingers down the staples – the skin was oddly numb around them and felt tight, and he couldn't help thinking of it as a zipper.
He was in the process of counting the things when the curtain opened and Carson and a nurse stepped in. John looked up guiltily, his hand mid-stomach and his eyes huge, but all Carson did was offer a tight-lipped grimace. "There's sixty-seven of them in the main incision," Carson said as he pulled the table next to the bed out of the way. He reached behind John and pulled out some blue gloves from a dispenser. "You were in surgery nearly nine hours – you were shot twice in the gut, nasty bit of damage that." As the nurse closed the curtain Carson pulled the stethoscope from around his neck and placed it in his ears. "But we got yae fixed up," he said with a flash of dimples.
The nurse sat a small pan with some supplies in it next to John's legs. She offered him an incredibly kind smile as she reached for a pair of gloves herself. John lowered his hand and just kind of quirked his eyebrows at her. And she surprised him when she actually blushed a little. Then Carson was listening to his gut and he just laid his head back in the pillows and watched. A few places were still very pressure sensitive when the doctor pushed gently on them, and John hissed a few times.
"Sorry," Carson said and he pulled the stethoscope off and draped it back over his shoulders. "You're going tae be tender for awhile yet, but I think it's safe to finally get this drain out and start yae on some broth."
John didn't say anything – he wanted to, he had a ton of things he wanted ask, but when he would go to open his mouth to speak, he just … didn't want to. He drew in his lips and nodded faintly.
Carson cocked his head a little and a brief frown crossed his face. Then he carefully undid the tape holding the tube in place, swabbed the area, and grabbed a hold of the ball. "I'm going to be honest with you – this is going tae feel horrible." Then he pulled the drain out with one smooth, relatively fast motion.
John's head pushed back into the pillows and he fisted the blankets as he drew his lips in and made a noise deep in the back of his throat that turned into a growl. He got both hot and chilled as he felt the thing slide out of his guts, and a second later a shadow rippled down his arms. Then it was over, and he could feel sweat break out everywhere. He gaped in horror at the thing Carson held in his hands – it was over a foot long, flat, about an inch wide, and full of holes. Then he just went limp and panted.
Carson and the nurse were staring at him with similar expressions. Then Carson blinked and dropped the thing in the garbage. "Catheter is next – then no more unpleasant crap, all right?" he said as he wiped down and put a small, clean dressing over the hole.
John just gave him a shaky thumbs-up. The catheter was nothing compared to that drain. Then they were taking out the staples, and besides the occasional pinch now and then it wasn't that bad, really. Carson tried to coax some words out of him – told him about all the visitors that his personal watch-elf Teyla had turned away earlier while he was sleeping – but after awhile he gave up. He couldn't even get a grunt out of John, and by the time they had replaced the staples with a line of steri-strips, John was starting to doze off again.
Carson pulled his gloves off, then pulled the blankets back up over John's chest and even lowered the head of the bed a little. He grabbed the panic button for the pain med and wrapped it around the railing close to John's left hand. "If yae need a hit, don't hesitate."
John nodded tiredly up at him, then fumbled for the button a second later. He could feel the doctor's worry, so he offered him a rather weak lopsided smile. It didn't seem to help, and he could still feel anxiety coming off the man, so he slurred, "S'fine." Then he was dozing off to a wave of relief, most of it Carson's.
The nurse took the pan and garbage away when she left, but Carson stayed for a few minutes and just watched the monitors. He felt a presence, and turned to see Teyla had ducked in to stand at the foot of the bed.
"Did he speak yet?" she asked quietly. Carson nodded, and she sighed. She came over to the other side of the bed and lightly brushed the hair from his forehead. She caught a flutter of thought, the beginning of a dream, and smiled. "I was beginning to worry."
"I wouldn't be surprised if he stays quiet for awhile yet," Carson replied just as softly. "He's been through hell."
Teyla nodded. "But we will be here for him."
"Aye, we will."
-oOo-
John had his first bowl of broth for lunch, along with some yogurt, followed shortly by his first visitors. Teyla wasn't going to let anyone in at first, but he let her know it was fine with a lift of his chin and a thought. It's okay.
Are you sure? She was smiling over those two words, the first he'd said to her since he woke up.
John just waved and nodded.
Teyla pulled the curtain aside and Lorne hobbled in, shortly followed by Ronon. They both seemed incredibly uncomfortable to be there, but then it could have been from the warning scowl Teyla gave them as she left. Lorne ducked his head as she went by, then scratched the side of his nose. Then he looked at John and grinned. "She's, ah, been very protective the past week. Threatened to hand us certain parts of our anatomy several times if we disturbed you."
What was it Carson had called her? "Watch-elf," John said weakly and snorted. Eating that sad little amount that he did for lunch really wiped him out.
Ronon smirked. "I don't think she likes us very much."
"Yeah, well, understandable," Lorne said. He was using a cane instead of crutches, now, and he wrapped his hands around the handle and grimaced. "How you feeling?"
"Shitty." John got a wave of guilt off of both men that made him swallow. The short sentences made his throat hurt, and he reached for his covered cup of water. It was just out of reach, but Ronon pushed it closer until he could wrap his fingers around it. He about put the straw up his nose before he got it situated and took a sip. "Not your fault." He rested the cup on his chest.
"Yes. It was." Lorne looked down at his hands. "I should have…." He didn't get any more out before a deep growl from John shut him up. His head snapped up and he could see John's lip curled up on one side and showing a fang.
John pointed at him with his left hand, the index finger still lightly bandaged at the tip and shaking just a tad. "No. Stupid. Shit."
Ronon let out a snort, then smacked Lorne in the arm. "Told ya."
Lorne shook his head. "All right, all right. Woulda, coulda, shoulda. Fuck it." Then he smiled. "Glad you're alive, Sheppard."
"Yeah," Ronon added. He crossed his arms and grinned, too. "I've been wanting to ask – where'd you learn to walk on walls like that?"
"Comic books." John took one more sip of water and set the cup back on the table. He almost missed, but Ronon nudged it touch closer with a foot. Then he was leaning back into his pillow, and the wave of relief and happiness he could feel coming off the two men was as intoxicating as whatever shot into his veins when he pressed the panic button. Damn, he hated being this weak – every little emotion from anybody left him twice as wiped.
"That was the coolest thing I think I have ever seen in my life," Lorne added with a big grin. He had watched the security feed of it dozens of times now, and it still just left him with his mouth hanging open. Then he saw John's eyelids were drooping. "Well, we'll let you get some sleep. See ya tomorrow?"
John just lifted a hand and they turned to leave. Ronon flashed him one last smirk and a wave before he ducked under the curtain. Yeah, they're both pretty good guys, he thought as he closed his eyes. Especially for an ogre….
That evening Carson made him get up and try to walk a little. They got him in one of the floppy gowns and maneuvered into a walker, and John was thankful the infirmary held only one other patient and they were behind their own little curtained off area at the other end. His left calf ached, his stomach burned, and he barely made twenty feet before he was shaking and sweating and cussing. Teyla was the only one who heard the cussing – Carson, Keller, and a nurse just saw a very tight-lipped grimace and heard very faint growling. Then they turned him back around and he was gratefully collapsing on his bed and fresh sheets a few minutes later. "That. Sucked," he said and promptly blacked out for a moment. When he opened his eyes a few minutes later he was tucked back in all nice and sound and someone must have hit his panic button, because he was floating. Then Teyla was holding his water for him, and she had quite the smirk on her face.
I do not believe I have heard those combinations of words before, she thought. And I have been around for quite awhile.
John ducked his head and grimaced sheepishly. "Air Force," he said.
"Ah." She sat the water aside. "And your knowledge of the mating habits of livestock?"
"Discovery Channel." He scratched at his beard and grimaced and tried really hard to ignore her raised eyebrow. "Really."
Teyla nodded. "That is what all the vargyr claim."
"Hey!" Then he caught the wave of amusement roll off of her and smiled. And I didn't know the Fae actually had senses of humor.
Teyla's smirk returned. "We do. We have a long tradition of comedic parables we teach our young. Such as, why did the vargyr cross the road?"
John growled as the curtain parted and Carson stepped in to check on him. He had to have heard Teyla's comment, because his dimples were showing. "Let me guess, does the answer have something to do with sheep?" he said as he popped open the PCA pump front and replaced the empty cartridge with a new one.
"Ah, you have heard it before," Teyla replied and smiled.
"I'm Scottish – I've heard every conceivable sheep joke known to man, or any other species, for that matter." He frowned briefly. "Most of them from Rodney, now that I think about it."
John scowled. "Isn't teasing a patient against some code?" he mumbled, but then he found himself fighting to keep the scowl as Teyla laughed. It was as musical as her inner laugh. He finally relented, and the corner of his mouth crooked up. Then he looked at Carson. "S'pose you get goat jokes, too."
"Here, now," Carson said. "Settle."
John just grinned tiredly as he found the controls for the bed and lowered the head a little. Then he was scratching at his chin and yawning. "Say, could I …."
"Get a shave?" Carson finished. "Certainly. I'll send Shelly by in the morning. Now, get some sleep. You're doubling your distance tomorrow." The grin on his face was downright evil as he ducked back through the curtain.
John groaned and closed his eyes.
"Good night, John," Teyla said and brushed his temple lightly.
John sighed. Then as he heard the curtain rustle he thought, Because he was stapled to the chicken.
To the were-chicken, Teyla corrected, and her laughter floated back to drown out his groan.
End Note: Several years ago my mom had to have emergency surgery for a perforated ulcer. They basically split her open, pulled everything out, hosed it off, and stuck it all back in. I had the joy of being present when they pulled her abdominal drain out. Now I have a pretty strong stomach, but watching that dang near made me hurl. Never thought I'd be using that in a story...
