He could feel himself shaking, his body shuddering so hard that it made his teeth clatter together and the sound echoed in his head. And he was cold, so bitterly cold, and the pain sifted through him, like grains of sand scrubbing each and every nerve ending raw. He tried to scratch it away, fingers digging hard into his flesh, clawing at it but he was shaking so hard he couldn't dig deep enough. And then something grabbed at him, pinning him down, and he fought against it, heaving his body upward, but the weight clung to him, pressing him back down, holding him, suffocating him and he had to bite his lip to keep from begging. The devil loved it when he begged.
He could hear the devil laughing.
But then it faded away and another voice was seeping into his head. Whispering his name.
"...John? Major! I need you to look at me..."
He didn't want to look. It hurt to breathe and if he opened his eyes it would be too bright and the pain would stab into him. Stabbing deeper and deeper and he would break away.
"...dammit, Major! Open you eyes!..."
He knew that voice. John sucked in a painful breath and did as he was told. He opened his eyes but the face looming over him was blurred. He blinked hard and it came into fuzzy focus.
Rodney looked relieved. "Thank God...I thought I'd lost you for a minute."
John let his eyes drift closed again, his eyelids felt so heavy. But they fluttered open when he felt cool wetness on his face. The rough brush of the towel against his chin was painful and John heard a whimper escape him.
"Sorry...sorry." Rodney tossed the towel away. "You're soaked in sweat and shivering. I need to get you warm. Can you stand up?"
"Tired..." John felt like his throat was lined with broken glass.
Rodney sighed. "I know you're tired, Major. Join the club. But I need to get you in the shower and into dry clothes. You sweated through these."
John felt fingers plucking at his shirt and he realized it was plastered against his skin. He wanted to be warm again so he made the attempt to unfurl and sit up. But the movement sent off shockwaves of pain and he bit through his lip to hold back a cry.
"Shit!" Rodney shifted around until he could draw Sheppard into a loose hug. "I know this sucks, Major, but you can do this. I'll help."
"No...no..." John didn't want to move. Didn't want to breathe. But then he heard the devil laugh again and that made him angry. Kolya was laughing at him. Kolya was dead but the fucker was still winning. So John gritted his teeth and did what he could to push himself off the bed. He didn't remember walking to the bathroom or stripping off his clothes. He knew it was warm though, almost stifling hot, even when Rodney pulled him out of the shower and got him dressed. "Warm..." John whispered.
Rodney was almost wheezing. "Yeah...sorry. I turned up the environmentals so you wouldn't be cold. I'll turn them down again in a bit. He toweled himself off better and finished dressing. "Come lie down on the cot while I change the sheets on the bed.
John nodded and took a step and it felt amazing to be able to do so. Amazing because he could and amazing because he realized the pain was fading away. The burn was cooling down. So John took another step but then he froze. "Sick.." he whispered.
"Here!" Rodney was spurred into action. He got Sheppard over to the toilet and supported him as he vomited until he was wracked with the dry heaves. "Carson said that might happen," he said, once the major was done. He grabbed a towel and used it to wipe the cold sweat from Sheppard's face. Then he helped him over to the sink.
"Thanks." It hurt to talk, the bile had burned his throat. So John rinsed his mouth then brushed his teeth, then he swallowed a bit of water and it helped.
Rodney was hovering close by. "Back to bed with you," he said, as he wrapped an arm around the major's waist. And they headed out of the bathroom. "So...have you always been so skinny?" he asked, conversationally.
John would have glared at Rodney for that one, if it didn't take so much effort. "Not skinny," he shot back.
"Yeah you are. All the more so now." Rodney guided Sheppard over to the cot and eased him down. Then he covered him with a blanket. "Rest while I change the sheets."
"Okay." John was willing to obey since he knew he wasn't strong enough to do anything else. The pain had faded but it was still sharp on the edge of his awareness. Like it always was. And the burn was skittering here and there under his skin. He curled his fingers in the blanket so that he wouldn't scratch.
Rodney stripped the bed and made it efficiently. All the while he kept talking. "Seriously...you've never been fat...have you?"
John sighed and he realized he was happy. This was familiar and mundane and just so Rodney. "No...never," he allowed.
"Figures." Rodney shook out the pillows then pulled on fresh cases. "And you'll probably always be skinny. Even when you're ninety."
"Won't live that long," John mumbled. And he didn't want to.
Rodney was done with the bed so he moved back to the cot. "Let's get you settled, Major."
John tried to pull away. "You take the bed, Rodney. You need to rest."
"Nice try." Rodney could out stubborn a mule when he wanted too. And he didn't even argue the point with Sheppard. He just hauled him off the cot and pretty much carried him to the bed.
"Fucker!" John hissed, but he wasn't really angry. Not at Rodney anyway. He was mad at himself for being so damn weak. For feeling so damn fragile. And he was cold again. Always cold.
Rodney saw him shiver and piled blankets over him. "Better?"
John closed his eyes. "Better." But it wasn't really. Nothing had changed and he was tired of everything.
"Are you hungry?" Rodney sat down on the edge of the bed and studied Sheppard.
"No." John was a little surprised that Rodney would even ask that after watching him puke his guts up.
Rodney sighed. "You have to eat, Major. You're skin and bones now."
John peeled his eyes open so he could glare at Rodney. "You're just jealous," he taunted, because being sarcastic about this was better than accepting the reality of it. He was weak and worn out and just a shell of who he used to be. And the worst part was that John wasn't sure he remembered who he used to be. And if he couldn't remember, how could he go back to being that man?
"I am a bit jealous," Rodney allowed, and he was smiling. "I was a fat kid and you don't even want to know how fat I got in college."
"How fat?" John knew what Rodney was doing and he welcomed the distraction.
Rodney winced. "Too damn fat. Comfort food. I was just a kid in college and I didn't fit in at all. So I ate. A lot. All the time."
John reached out to pat Rodney on the arm, to offer a bit of sympathy, but the pain chose that moment to twist in his gut and John's fingers gripped Rodney's forearm like a steel claw.
"What can I do to help?" Rodney went pale as he watched the major shudder.
"Nothing...I'm...I'm okay." The pain let up but it had been so sharp and hard that it took his breath away. John drew in shuddery lungfuls of air.
Rodney peeled Sheppard's fingers off his arm then moved to climb onto the bed. He shifted being Sheppard, who was curled up on his side. Reaching out, Rodney began rubbing John's back. "Does it help?"
Surprisingly, it did. "Yeah...it helps." John felt himself relaxing again. He let himself be soothed as much by Rodney's touch as by the motion of it. Rocking John in an unfamiliar rhythm that seemed to distract the pain. And it wasn't long before John felt himself drifting into warm darkness.
Rodney kept rubbing Sheppard's back until he was positive he was asleep. Then he slid off the bed and headed for the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face, telling himself that when he dried it off with a towel, he was only wiping away water, not tears. He didn't move for a long time, but then he shook himself and headed back out. Rodney studied Sheppard for a moment, marveling how someone who had suffered so much and looked so battle weary could still be so beautiful. It hurt to see such beauty wounded.
Reaching out with one hand, Rodney smoothed back a wayward lock of Sheppard's hair. It was longer now, but still spiky. And softer than it looked like it would be. Rodney smiled at that before grabbing another blanket to smooth over Sheppard. He didn't want him to be cold. Then Rodney headed for the kitchen to retrieve the medical supplies. A few minutes later he had a tube of blood and he contacted Beckett by radio to report to him about Sheppard's condition and that he had a sample ready.
Five minutes later Rodney stood before the open door. He passed off the tube of blood to Beckett, who handed it off to an assistant. "He's still asleep. It was bad."
"Want me to check on him?" Carson offered.
"Not yet. I'll let you know when I'm in full blown panic mode."
Carson patted Rodney on the shoulder. "You're doing a good thing, Rodney. The right thing. Major Sheppard will get through this because of you."
Rodney wanted to believe that but wasn't sure he could. "I hope so. I hope I'm not fucking him up more."
"Believe in yourself, Rodney," Carson advised. He patted his shoulder once more then closed the door and locked it.
"I'm trying," Rodney whispered. He wiped a hand over his face and headed back to check on Sheppard. The major was still asleep and looked almost peaceful. So Rodney stretched out on the other bed, lying on his side, facing the major. He closed his eyes, but he didn't sleep.