Elizabeth was anxious as she entered Beckett's office. "So...how is Major Sheppard?" she asked, getting straight to the point.
Carson looked up from his computer screen. "Oh...he's doing well, healing nicely."
"I thought...okay." Elizabeth was a bit confused. "Why did you call me down here then?"
"Oh...it's about grounding Major Sheppard." Carson was smiling, but it was sharp-edged.
Elizabeth nodded. "Rodney told me he informed you of the headaches. I assume that's what you mean?"
Carson sighed. "More or less. He's grounded for a bit anyway with his shoulder. I was going to let him back on light duty, but I'd like to give him a couple of weeks to just heal. Stress free in every way. I think he's suffering from tension headaches. He's pushing himself too hard in every way."
"So what can you do to help?"
"He needs to relax. To find a way to deal with the stress." Carson rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. "I wish there was an easy solution."
Elizabeth winced at that. "So do I. Carson...did Rodney tell you about his theory regarding Major Sheppard?"
It was Carson's turn to wince. "You mean...that he's sub consciously suicidal?"
"That's the one. Any merit in that?" Elizabeth wanted him to say no. She - silently - begged him to say no.
"Perhaps a wee bit," Carson replied. "But the man isn't suicidal in the sense of wanting to outright die. He's projecting his fear of losing people. His fear of his inability to save them. The major is carrying a lot of guilt. Add that to everything that's happened since he came here, on top of what he'd gone through back on earth...that's one hell of a heavy load for any one person to be burdened with."
Elizabeth's eyes had gone wide as she listened to Beckett. "Closet psychologist?" she teased.
Carson laughed. "No. But the human psyche is intriguing in that it's connected to how are bodies react physically. Mind over matter is a true enough statement."
"Like with his tension headaches?" Elizabeth was catching on.
"Like that," Carson confirmed.
Elizabeth felt like they were finally making some progress. "So...what do we do?"
Rubbing the back of his neck, Carson shrugged. "Not a lot we can do. It's up to the major. But I will keep him grounded for the time being."
"Would sessions with Kate help him?"
"Not if he's not willing to talk to her."
That wasn't what Elizabeth wanted to hear. "Then what? I need Sheppard back to one hundred percent, Carson. We all need him."
Carson nodded. "Aye...I know that. You can suggest, strongly, that he talk with Kate. Maybe she can find a way to help him."
"Okay...I'll do that." Elizabeth headed for the door. "Have you told him he's grounded?"
"Not exactly." Carson looked a bit guilty as he shifted in his chair. "I told him you'd be around to talk to him."
Elizabeth sighed. But this was her burden to bear. "I'll tell him the good news," she said softly then she slipped out of the room.
John started running again. His shoulder was too sore to work with the sticks so the moment Beckett released him from the infirmary, he started walking. That was three days ago. Today he felt up to running. He needed the push to his body. He needed a way to release the tension and anger. Mostly anger.
Just before being released from the infirmary, Elizabeth had come in to inform him that he was grounded, indefinitely. John knew why. His headaches. He was a step ahead of them. He knew they could be a problem in the field so he would find a way around them. Build up his resistance to them. Whatever it took. And when Weir suggested he speak with Dr. Heightymeyer, John had agreed with her. The look of surprised on Elizabeth's face had been priceless. She didn't get it. He wanted to be back out there. He wanted to be able to do his job.
So John talked with Kate. Not that it helped. He told her what she wanted to hear. What he had already confessed too. He missed Ford. He suffered nightmares, he just didn't give her details. He had a lot of regrets and he carried a lot of guilt. Normal reactions. They danced around a few issues then she came up with something he actually took interest in. A book of yoga exercise meant to help a person relax. A body/mind/spirit kind of thing. He'd skimmed through it last night. Teyla had come to visit and she had picked up the book. John told her about it and she had told him about a practice called Kee-ta. It was almost more a religious belief, as John understood it. A way to center ones self in all ways. To focus inward as it were. Something John had always been able to do in the past. In his own way. But now he was willing to try something new. If it got him back out where he belonged.
He stopped running and stretched his shoulder. It was sore but doable. A quick glance at his watch and John realized he was going to be late meeting Teyla in her quarters. Today she was going to teach him the beginnings of the Kee-ta. John didn't want to be late.
For two weeks John kept mostly to himself. He ate meals on off-hours. The rest of the time he spent with Teyla, learning more of the Kee-ta then alone, practicing what he learned. After a while he started working out with he sticks again and applying what he had learned from about centering his focus and melding his body/mind and soul into practice. He was surprised to find that the sticks in his hand became an extension of his arm. And today, when he and Teyla practiced for the first time since he'd been hit with the arrow, John saw the results of his work. He took her down with ease.
"You have learned well," Teyla said as she accepted his hand to pull her up. She was smiling at him and there was a touch of pride in her voice.
"I had a good teacher." John was pleased. They fell into a stance again and in the end he took her down once more. She didn't take him down even once. They were evenly matched now and he was beginning to surpass her.
Teyla seemed pleased, but a bit uncertain. "You must not lose focus of what matters most, major," she said softly.
John frowned at her words, turning to face her. "What do you mean?"
"You have detached yourself from everyone in many ways," Teyla replied. "What I have taught you was meant for those whose fate it is to walk alone. That is not your fate. There are so many who care about you. Do not lose sight of that."
"I have to go." John had no response for her. Nothing that she would want to hear, anyway. He stuffed his sticks in his gym bag and headed out. He had to shower and meet with Heightmeyer.
Another three days passed and John had yet to see McKay. He knew Rodney was avoiding him and John let him. He knew Rodney was the reason he was grounded and John couldn't shake his anger at him because of it. It felt like a betrayal. So he was a little surprised when the door chimed and Rodney's voice called out,
"Major...can we talk?"
John's response was to think the door open. He sat up, setting aside his book, and watched as Rodney entered. "Something I can help you with?" John asked, his tone carefully neutral.
Rodney shrugged. "Not really. I just wanted to see how you were doing? Beckett won't tell me anything."
"That's because it's none of your goddamned business." John's words were harsh but his tone was still soft. He could feel his body starting to vibrate as anger welled up inside him. But it wasn't just anger that washed over him. It hurt that Rodney had done this too him, and John didn't want to feel that particular kind of pain. He wanted to be emotionally numb. And he was so damn close to achieving his goal.
"I care about people to you know," Rodney shot back, shaking a finger at Sheppard. "You don't have the market on that, Major. So get over it."
"Anyway...rumor has it you might be put back on full duty next week." Rodney looked shaken by that.
John let himself smile, a cold curving of his lips. "That's right. The shoulder is one hundred percent, the headaches are gone, I'm not crazy and I'm not...suicidal." John watched Rodney flinch at the last bit and he was glad.
But Rodney wasn't one to turn away from people when he had something to say. "I did what I had to do, Major."
"I wasn't suicidal." It was hard to say the words, especially to Rodney. Because it was hard to accept that McKay thought that way about him.
"Not consciously," Rodney allowed. "Maybe sacrificial lamb syndrome describes it better. You're willing to die to save everyone else."
John stood up, body still shaking. "That's my job," he ground out. And suddenly the headache came back in a rush, pain gripping the back of his neck before spiraling upward to throb in his temples.
Rodney's eyes narrowed as he studied Sheppard's face. "You okay?"
"Yes, McKay," John snapped. "I'm fine! Are we done here?" He wanted to be left alone.
"Yeah...I guess we are." Rodney's face fell and he turned and walked out without another word.
"Fuck!" John grabbed his book and hurled it against the door as it slid shut. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to feel anything anymore.
Feeling desperate, John grabbed his sticks and began to move. And with each move he focused inward. And by the time he found his center and a measure of peace, his body was quivering, he was soaked in sweat and the headache was just an irritation. But as John sank to the floor the image of Rodney's face lingered.