After stepping off the transporter, John let Rodney lead him down a long and winding corridor and it wasn't until they passed a window that he froze. "Rodney?"
Rodney had been muttering to himself and had gone on a few steps without realizing Sheppard hadn't followed him. But at the sound of his name he stopped and turned to face him. "Come on...we have to keep going." Suddenly he noticed the major's expression. "You okay? What's wrong? Do you need to sit down?"
John knew he looked stunned but he managed to shake his head at the questions, then he pointed towards the window. "Rodney...we're under water."
"Yes yes." Rodney waved an impatient hand towards the window. "I know that."
"How? Atlantis rose to the surface, last I remember." John was beginning to wonder if either he had been out of it alot longer than anyone had told him or, he was dreaming and it was an amazingly vivid dream. He was rather liking the latter scenario at this point. Then maybe he would simply wake up in his own bed and everything would be back to normal. John missed normal. He sighed and closed his eyes a minute only to suffer a wave of vertigo. He felt himself listing sharply to the right and he knew he would have fallen had a strong hand not caught him by the arm.
Rodney was worried. "Major...are you all right? Maybe you'd better sit down for a moment and rest. I'd really hate to have to carry you the rest of the way. You're skinny but solid and I have a bad back."
John did sit, letting his back hit the wall before sliding down to the floor. He listened to Rodney ramble for a moment while the buzz in his head faded and the nausea roiling in his stomach eased up. Only then did he lift his head and ask, "Why are we under water?"
"Let's just say that I found a place no one else will be able to find and leave it at that. Okay?" Rodney had crouched down beside Sheppard and he looked pained. "Look...are you all right? Seriously. Because you don't look so good."
"I've been better," John allowed. He felt tired and woozy and hot and he wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. Instead he pushed himself up the wall, letting Rodney help ease him to his feet, then he forced a smile. "We'd better keep going. I'm sure Beckett's noticed my escape by now and they'll be looking for me. Uh...us." John reached out and gripped Rodney by the arm. "You're ass is going to be grass for this, Rodney. Sorry about that." John was sorry although, at the same time, he was glad Rodney had come to help him.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Please, Major...have a little faith. I'm sure Elizabeth has sent out an APB on you but, trust me, they won't find us. Not until we're ready to be found."
John wanted to believe that but shook his head. "They'll use the LSD's."
"Really? You think?" Rodney made a face. "Genius here, remember? Believe me, I've thought of that and I've taken care of it. They won't be able to find us that way or any other way they might think of. Between me and Zelenka, they'll be chasing their tails."
"Zelenka is helping?" John was surprised to hear that.
Rodney shrugged. "He thinks you're worth saving. Go figure."
John found himself grinning at Rodney's attitude. He knew the other man considered him a friend and the feeling was mutual. As odd as it might seem to other people, John knew that he and McKay connected on a lot of levels. Yet at the same time their very differences made things interesting. "I owe you big time for this," John stated.
"That you do," Rodney agreed. "And I expect payment in full."
"And what do you expect payment to be?" John countered, as they continued walking. He felt a bit shaky so when Rodney gripped him by the elbow, John allowed it.
Rodney smirked. "I expect lots of chocolate, because I know you have a stash of Hershey bars in your room so don't even bother to deny it. And, by the way, Radek expects the same. And I also expect you to save my ass in the future."
John figured he could handle that, although he would regret parting with his chocolate. "Sounds fair," he allowed, then he stumbled and would have fallen if Rodney hadn't supported him.
"Maybe this was a bad idea," Rodney muttered, as he eyed Sheppard with concern. "You look like shit."
"Feel like shit," John allowed, then his train of thought wandered to the question that had been burning in his brain from the moment Rodney had shown up in the infirmary. "Why did you rescue me?" John blurted out, hearing how slurred his words were and that worried him a bit.
Apparently it worried Rodney as well. He slung Sheppard's arm over his shoulder, wrapped the other around his waist, then plodded forward. "Ask me that question again once we reach our destination," he countered.
John might have argued the point but it was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other. His vision grayed in and out and he realized McKay was practically carrying him by the time they stepped through a doorway into what looked like a small suite. John blinked hard to bring the place into focus but it didn't help. He was vaguely aware of Rodney talking to him then he found himself lying down on his back and John was drifting off into shimmering darkness. Only he felt a spike of cold fear and he tried to sit up. Something was wrong. He felt jittery and panicked and suddenly hands were on him, pressing him down and John bucked against them until he recognized Rodney's voice trying to soothe him.
"Easy, Major, it's me. It's McKay. Just lie back and rest. Go to sleep and you'll be fine." Rodney almost stuttered as he spoke and he looked relieved when Sheppard finally relaxed against the pillows of the bed he was now lying on.
"Rodney..." John whispered, reaching out for the other man. He needed to make sure he was really there. Then a hand gripped his and John felt relief wash over him. His heart was still thudding against his chest but a warm serenity was drifting over him, easing him into slumber. He didn't resist. When the darkness embraced him, John let himself go.
Waking up sucked. John had barely opened his eyes when his stomach felt the need to protest and he found himself gagging on the bile that was pooling in his throat. Luckily Rodney had been paying attention and he managed to get John off the bed, into the bathroom and leaning over the toilet before he hurled. By the time he had emptied the meager contents of his stomach and managed to shudder through the dry heaves, he felt spent. He was only vaguely aware of Rodney wiping his face with a cool, damp, cloth then arms lifting him to his feet. "Wait..." John croaked, trying to dig in his heels. Which wasn't easy to do when Rodney was practically carrying him. "I need to brush my teeth.
Rodney winced but nodded. "Come on." He maneuvered Sheppard over to the sink and propped him against it. "I'll get it." He grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste he had appropriated from the major's room.
"Thanks." John brushed vigorously, trying to ignore the way his hand was shaking. He rinsed then took a drink of water to ease the ache of his abused esophagus. "Much better now," he stated, somewhat cautiously. That said he tried to step away from the sink on his own only to have his knees, promptly, buckle.
"Major!" Rodney practically squeaked as he dove for him. He got Sheppard steadied on his feet then hauled him back to the other room where he laid him out on the bed. Then he pressed a hand to Sheppard's forehead and frowned. "You have a fever. This could be bad."
John didn't deny it. Truthfully, he felt like shit. But at least the jittery feeling was gone. For the moment. "Got any Tylenol?" he asked, rather hopefully.
Rodney brightened. "As a matter of fact I do." He disappeared for a moment then returned with the bottle and a glass of water. "If you feel up to it later...emphasis on later...you can shower. I brought a change of clothes for you," he said, as he offered two pills and the water.
"Thanks." John accepted the Tylenol and the glass, popped the pills and washed them down, then asked, "Why are you doing this?" He had held off on asking as long as he could.
"Doing what?" Rodney countered, as he plucked the glass out of Sheppard's hand and set it aside. He then grabbed a blanket and spread it over the major, fussing with it as if wanting to drape it out smoothly.
John knew that Rodney was trying to avoid the question. He grabbed the scientist by the arm and shook him. Sort of. Or maybe he was the one shaking. Either way, Rodney stopped fussing. "You were willing to risk breaking me out and hiding me. Why? Everyone else thinks I'm having a break down and now they're convinced I'm suicidal. What about you, Rodney? What do you think?"
Rodney tugged his arm free then grabbed a chair and sat down next to the bed. He locked eyes with Sheppard. "I think that I don't have the most creative imagination around, but I do have a rather vivid one, and even I can't imagine any scenario or situation that would push you over the edge into trying to kill yourself." Rodney held Sheppard's gaze a moment longer then dropped it to his hands. "Look. You're stupidly heroic enough to sacrifice yourself for others. But suicide? No...no way. Which means something else is wrong with you and I seeing as how I'm a genius and all, I figured you'd need me to help fix you." That said, Rodney stood up and began pacing.
"Rodney?" John waited until the other man went still and looked at him. He felt touched by Rodney's confession in a way that was almost weepy, which was so not him. Yet he wasn't going to deny it either. Taking a shuddery breath, John then cleared his throat and whispered, "I definitely owe you one for this. Thanks."
"Thank me later," Rodney countered, brushing off the sentiment with an airy wave of one hand. "After we figure out what's going on. My best guess, which of course means it's right, is that whatever happened to change your emotional status had to have occurred when you were in the chamber with Kethan. Are you sure nothing happened?"
John's eyes felt heavy and he let them drift closed. He ached and he was tired and he wanted to sleep some more. But he did shake his head at Rodney. "No…nothing happened. I just...I slept."
Rodney went back to pacing. "Well...something had to have happened. Maybe that drink they gave you was drugged."
It bothered John that Rodney was probably right about that, but he hadn't felt anything adverse from drinking the stuff and Teyla had assured him it was harmless. They'd all had some at the feast. As tired as he was, John wracked his brain trying to figure out what might have happened. But nothing came to him and he started to feel edgy and jittery again and that sent a spike of fear through him. "Rodney...did you bring a gun?" John asked quietly.
"No…why would I?" Rodney frowned at Sheppard but kept pacing.
"To protect yourself," John countered, and Rodney apparently heard something in his voice because he turned and stalked back over to the bed. John looked at him, waiting for understanding to dawn.
But Rodney just looked puzzled. "Protect myself from who?" he prompted.
The panicky feeling was slithering back and John curled his fingers into the blanket, willing it to fade away. "From me," he gritted out between clenched teeth. "I tried to choke you to death...remember?"
"That wasn't you," Rodney shot back, and he looked almost angry.
"It was me." John's voice was hushed at the memory. He could feel himself shaking and he was working his way into a full blown panic when a sudden feeling of peace washed over him, like a wave on a beach, soaking into him and carrying away all the negative emotion. John sighed in relief and felt a warm lethargy seeping into him.
Rodney was watching him, a surprised look on his face. "Get some sleep," he said, gruffly, as he plopped back down into the chair.
John obeyed, letting himself drift into warm darkness.