John closed his eyes but knew the moment Heightmeyer was standing next to the bed. He opened his eyes and, ignoring the pain the sizzled in his veins, he unfurled his body, stretching out on his back. The itch niggled under his skin, taunting him, and John crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to give in to the temptation to scratch. Forcing his lips to form a parody of a smile, John locked eyes with Heightmeyer.
She stared back, just looking him over for a moment. "How is the pain?"
"It's there." John drawled. He knew the game she intended to play with him, but he was a master and she would never win.
"Can you excuse us, Dr. McKay?" Heightmeyer asked, politely enough. But her tone was dismissive.
Rodney looked at Sheppard for a moment then nodded. "I'll come back later, Major," he said, then he was gone.
John hated the way he felt in this moment. Rodney's leaving felt like a betrayal. Rodney was supposed to know everything, why didn't he know how stupid this was? How useless? Talking wouldn't help. It couldn't help him. But John shoved those feelings aside and focused on the pain. No longer taunting him, it had dug in deep, clawing at him. His skin was like a tender scab and the pain was picking it away, exposing him like a ragged wound. Raw and open and bleeding. John felt a shudder run though him and he broke out into a cold sweat. "This is a waste of your time and mine," John gritted out.
"It doesn't have to be," Heightmeyer countered. "I want to help you, Major. That's all any of us want. To help you."
"Wish you could." John bit his lip just short of drawing blood. "I've seen a few shrinks in my time." He knew she knew that but he wanted to put all the cards on the table.
Heightmeyer grabbed the stool and sat down. "I've read your file. Makes for interesting reading, actually."
John snorted at that and felt a buzzing in his ears. The pain was laughing at him now. He tuned it out. "So I've been told," he whispered then he cleared his throat and stated, "I have nothing to say to you. That's the bottom line."
"Are you giving up?"
"I'm tired." John would give nothing away.
Heightmeyer nodded. "I know you are. But you're a strong man, Major. Strong enough to beat this."
John almost laughed at that. She knew nothing about him. But instead of replying, he closed his eyes. He listened as she asked a few questions but after a time he heard nothing but whispers from voices that danced in his head. There was nothing but pain only it was different this time. Not as focused. Not as sharp. It burned but was fading away, leaving behind the itch. He wanted so badly to scratch it.
"Major? John?"
He didn't respond but he did open his eyes and was surprised to see Elizabeth's blurred image hovering over him. John didn't remember Heightmeyer leaving. He blinked hard and Elizabeth's face came into focus. "Where..." John croaked, his voice tight and hoarse.
Elizabeth reached for the glass of water on the nightstand and guided the straw to Sheppard's lips. Once he took a few sips she set it back down then she locked eyes with him. "We need to talk."
"Yeah...we do." John shifted and sat up against the pillows, one hand lifting to rake his fingers through his hair. The pain was gone but the itch shimmered just below his skin. He lowered his hand and scratched softly, just on the inside of his arm. An idle action but he watched Elizabeth watching him and stopped. "I want out of here."
"That's not an option at the moment, Major." Elizabeth turned away in search of the stool. She grabbed it, brought it over to the bed and sat down.
John didn't want to do this, but he knew Elizabeth. She could out stubborn a mule. So he would listen to her talk and then they would negotiate. That's what she did. Negotiated terms. That's how they played the game. "So what are my options?"
Elizabeth sighed. "You have to talk to Heightmeyer."
"Option two?" John prompted. He realized that Elizabeth looked tired and worn out. He wondered how much of that was his fault, and he felt a flicker of guilt.
"You remain grounded permanently," Elizabeth shot back.
John glared at her. "Not an option!" He couldn't believe she had even said that to him. Soft laughter echoed in his head and John pressed his hands over his ears. Kolya was dead but the fucker kept haunting him. He was so tired of this. Tired of everything.
Elizabeth reached out to touch Sheppard's arm, pulling back when he jerked away. "Then we're back to Heightmeyer," she stated.
"No!" John would not look at Elizabeth as he shook his head. He didn't want to see disappointment glimmering in her eyes. But she didn't understand what she was asking of him. And John wasn't sure how to make her understand. He couldn't tell anyone about the demons in his head. About the things he had seen, the things he had done. They weren't supposed to know.
"You have to talk to Heightmeyer if you want to get your life back, Major." Elizabeth's voice was clear and firm, but there was a ragged edge to it that revealed her frustration. "I need you, John. Atlantis needs you."
He realized he was scratching again and dropped his hands to the blankets, clutching them tightly. The itch was taunting him again. Nibbling in places, biting in others, then slipping away to find another spot. He shifted his body, trying to ease the ache of muscle stretched taut by the anger he was trying so hard to control. He couldn't let it out, not now. Not at Elizabeth. He looked at her and whispered, "I don't need a shrink."
She looked defeated. "You can't do this alone...and you don't have too. We all want to help you, John. Why won't you let us?"
He didn't have the answer she wanted so he said nothing. The silence that fell between them felt heavy and uncomfortable and John shifted again, this time turning away from her, making it a not so subtle hint that he wanted to be alone. He closed his eyes and counted the seconds. Twenty-seven of them before he heard the scraping of the stool and sound of her receding footsteps. His fingers unclenched from the fists he had curled them in to. The back of his left hand itched and he scratched at it and was surprised to find tape and tubing. John hadn't realized that Beckett had put his IV back in. He wondered how much time he had lost yet again.
Footsteps sounded and John turned his head, half expecting to see Elizabeth back with Heightmeyer in tow, but it was a pretty nurse who approached him. She had a tray of food and she was smiling. John made the effort to smile back, but it cost him. He felt the tremors that shook him.
"Dr. Beckett asked me to bring you supper, Major," said the nurse, as she set the tray down on the bedstand beside him. "Can you reach it okay or should I get the tray table?"
"It's fine where it is," John assured her. He didn't plan on touching it anyway.
She nodded. "Can I get you anything?"
John shook his head. Anything he wanted she could not give him. "I'm good." He watched her smile again and wondered if his smile was still in place. He touched his face and his lips were still curved but he let the smile fade away. His fingertips felt numb as he let them drift down his arm before digging into the reddened flesh. John let his fingernails scrape hard but it brought no relief. He closed his eyes against the sting of tears and felt himself rocking.
"Major?"
He went still as he recognized Ford's voice. John blinked hard then slowly opened his eyes. Not surprisingly, Teyla was with the lieutenant. John mustered up a smile again and it was easier this time. He was glad to see them. "Ford...Teyla…good to see you."
Teyla moved closer. "It is good to see you as well, Major. How are you feeling?"
"I've been better." John had learned, a long time ago, that it was impossible to lie to Teyla and get away with it. So he always told her the truth, or at least a version of it that would pass muster.
"Is there anything I can get for you?" Teyla queried. "Anything that you need?"
John shook his head. He was tired of people asking him that. It was an empty question. They could not understand what it was he needed. "I'm good, Teyla. But thank you." John managed to keep his voice soft and level. He kept his hands at his sides as well, fingers clutching the blankets again.
Ford moved to stand beside Teyla. "I've got a stash of chocolate, sir. Once you're feeling better I'll smuggle some into you."
"Thanks." John meant it. He knew that Ford meant well, and he was grateful that the kid wasn't trying to be helpful in the way everyone else was. Ford was just...Ford. "I hope I'm not in here for much longer." That was a truth he hadn't meant to reveal, and John was surprised at himself.
"You must take the time needed to heal, Major," Teyla interjected softly.
He had to bite back the hot retort on his lips, tempering it a bit with a tight reply. "I'm not wounded, Teyla."
She reached out to touch his face, palm pressing briefly against his cheek. "You are wounded deep inside. But you will be strong again."
"Yeah." John turned his head away, not wanting her to see how much her words hurt. But the truth always hurt more than any lie. He wasn't strong like before and Teyla knew it. She could see it. She always saw too much.
"Maybe we should go and let you rest." Ford spoke up.
John was going to reply but Beckett suddenly bustled into the area.
Carson took one look at the tray of untouched food and began shooing Ford and Teyla out the door. "Major Sheppard needs his rest and he needs to eat!" The last was said with a glare directed at Sheppard.
"Eat it yourself!" John shot back. And the anger he had been holding back came bursting out of him. He was so tired of being told what to do. He had escaped from Kolya only to be held captive by his own people. Without thinking, John grabbed the tray of food and hurled it in Beckett's direction. He didn't wait to see if it hit the target. John slid out of bed, knees buckling as his feet hit the floor, but he locked them and was on the move. Only to find Ford in his way. "Move!" John snarled at him.
"Can't do that, sir!" Ford held fast.
John slugged him, not feeling the pain in his knuckles blooming over the itch. He yanked out the IV needle and was turning to step . towards the door when he felt hands grabbing him, pushing him back towards the bed. He fought them and cursed them, screaming over the laughter in his head as they held him down. There was a prick in his shoulder then a swirl of cold drifting through his veins before the world went black.
Elizabeth was pacing. She stopped and straightened her shoulders, then turned to look at Beckett and Rodney, both of whom sat in front of her desk. "I don't know what to do," she told them. And it was a hard admission to make.
Carson heaved a sigh and rubbed at his eyes. "There's not much we can do at this point. If Major Sheppard doesn't want to help himself, then he's not going to get better. And we can't force him. It's so damn frustrating because he was so close before. I mean...it wasn't going to be easy then, but now it's much worse."
"So that's it? We just wait until he's ready?" Elizabeth's frustration was clear in her voice. "Meanwhile...what? We keep him restrained or sedated? Locked in his room?"
"I don't know what to tell you," Carson admitted. "But we will have to keep him under watch."
Rodney had remained silent, but now he pushed out the chair and spoke up. "I have an idea."
Elizabeth and Carson both looked at him hopefully.
"He won't like it," Rodney whispered. He looked at Carson. "I'll need your help to set it up."
"I'll do whatever I can," Carson promised.
Rodney looked at Elizabeth. "I don't know I'm going to make things better or worse. But I won't give up on the major. He wouldn't give up on us."
Elizabeth looked shaky for a moment, like she might cry, but then her mouth evened out and she nodded. "I trust you, Rodney. And I know the major does too."
"Maybe." Rodney shrugged off that thought for the moment.
"Do what you have to do," Elizabeth ordered.
Rodney nodded then headed out the door.