Elizabeth had wanted to go straight to the infirmary, but she had to do her job and take care of clean up and an emergency in one of the labs. She did ask Carson to give her updates on both Teyla and Rodney. Teyla, she learned, would be just fine. Rodney was in a coma. He had internal injuries and head trauma. Elizabeth didn't ask for details. When she asked how Major Sheppard was doing, she was surprised to learn he had never showed up in the infirmary. That wasn't like John. He was always there for an injured team member.
With everything that happened, six hours passed before Elizabeth was able to make her own way to the infirmary. She checked in with Carson about Rodney's condition first. There was no change. She then learned that Teyla was about to be released. Elizabeth went to visit with her before she left. She had questions she knew that Teyla could answer for her. "How are you doing?" Elizabeth asked, as she approached the bed.
"I am fine," Teyla said softly. She was sitting up, fully dressed, just waiting on her official release. She touched the bandage on her left forearm. "It was just a scratch."
"Good." Elizabeth was pleased. She sat down on the end of the bed, looked Teyla in the eye and asked, "What happened?"
Teyla sighed. "The Bemman's were waiting for our return. They had no interest in trading with us. They wanted Dr. McKay."
Elizabeth closed her eyes as she listened to confirmation of what Lt. Blake had said. Then she whispered, "So...Major Sheppard was right."
"Yes." Teyla did not hesitate in her reply, but she laid a gentle hand on Weir's shoulder. "That does not mean that you were wrong."
"I was wrong." Elizabeth pulled in a shuddery breath, resisting the urge to cry. "Rodney is in a coma because I was wrong. Because I wouldn't listen to Sheppard."
Teyla sighed softly. "He did not know this would happen, any more than you could have. We cannot foretell the future."
Elizabeth knew that. She nodded and managed a shaky smile. "The thing is...I know that not all of my decisions and choices are right. We all make mistakes. But this one could have been prevented. What happened to Rodney is directly my fault and I'm finding it very hard to live with."
"You send teams out every day, knowing we might not make it back. Some of us haven't." Teyla's tone was hushed. "This is no different."
"It feels different." Elizabeth almost snapped the words then offered a silent apology. "It is different." With that Elizabeth slipped off the bed, but she had one more question to ask before leaving. "How did...how did Major Sheppard seem to you? Was he okay?"
Teyla shook her head. "He was furious and yet...too calm. It is hard to explain. It scared me to see him like that."
Elizabeth was shocked. "You were scared of him?"
"I was scared for him." Teyla slid off the bed as well.
"I should go find him." Elizabeth made to leave but stopped when Teyla's hand fell on her arm. She turned to face the other woman and she saw compassion and understanding in the dark eyes.
Teyla squeezed Elizabeth's arm. "Let me find him. I think it would be best."
Elizabeth nodded. She knew Teyla was right. She knew she was the last person Sheppard would want to see right now. "Contact me when you find him. He needs to check in with Beckett." And with that Elizabeth turned and walked away, before the tears that burned in her eyes could fall.
John had left the Jumper bay and headed straight for the exercise area. He had divested himself of his weapons and his vest and then he had moved to the heavy bag in the corner and he started punching. When every muscle started to burn and he started shaking, John focused inward, found his center, and kept slugging.
But now he was sitting against the wall, knuckles bruised and bleeding, muscles burning, head throbbing and fighting the urge to cry. He never cried. But his eyes burned and he kept them shut tight.
He heard the doors slide open and John knew who it was without looking up. He felt her move to sit beside him. "You okay?" John asked, and he was pleased that his voice sounded normal.
"I am well," Teyla replied.
"McKay?" John knew it was bad, that Rodney wasn't going to just wake up and be okay. That's why he was hiding out here. He wanted to keep the truth at bay for a while. But reality was about to hit him in the face.
Teyla was silent a moment then she replied, "He is in a coma."
John said nothing, he just waited for her to continue.
"Dr. Beckett has hope that he will awaken," Teyla said after a time.
"When I found him...they were trying to bash his head in. It was like they wanted to get to his brain...as if they could just take it and use what he knew that way." John clenched his fists, feeling the pull of torn flesh, letting the pain ground him. "I broke the neck of the guy that was hitting him." He could still hear the crack of bone and the heaviness of the man's head in his hands. It had been so easy to do. Too easy. John could feel Teyla's eyes upon him, feel the heat of her gaze. He opened his eyes and the look of horror on her face almost made him laugh. Almost.
Pushing to his feet, John walked out, leaving Teyla sitting there. He headed for his room and stripped out of his bloody clothes. Rodney's blood. He took a shower, got dressed and made his way to the infirmary. John heard the beep of the heart monitor and followed it to Rodney's location. No one was there. So John sat down in the chair next to the bed and just stared at McKay. The man had never been so still before.
"Major?"
John didn't turn to look at Beckett.
Carson moved to stand beside him. "I need to do your post mission check up."
"I'm fine." John barely whispered the words because he knew they were a lie. He wasn't fine. Not this time. But he had to pretend. Everyone would want him to pretend.
"That's my call to make," Carson shot back, and he sounded angry.
John looked at him then rose from his chair. He let Carson lead him over to an empty bed. He sat quietly as his vital's were taken. He pulled away when Beckett reached for the hem of his shirt, then he flinched when the Scotsman grabbed his forearm.
Carson let go and glared at Sheppard. "Take your shirt off, major. Now."
It wasn't worth the fight. John was tired of fighting. He yanked the shirt off then looked straight ahead as Beckett prodded his bruised ribs, then exclaimed over the bandage on his left arm.
"What happened?" Carson queried.
"Nothing much. Some people don't take kindly to impending death." John shrugged, ignoring the stab of pain in his side. "They put up a bit of a fight when you try to kill them."
Carson blanched at his words then reached for an elastic wrap. He bound Sheppard's ribs then he unwrapped the bandage on his arm. "You'll need a few stitches. Knife wound?"
John nodded. He could still feel the blade slicing through his flesh. It felt cold but it hadn't really hurt. Maybe he was just too numb.
"I'm going to start you on an antibiotic and I'll give you something for the pain." Carson was busy with the stitches. "When I'm finished I want you to go to your room and rest."
"I'm not leaving." John wasn't looking at Rodney, but he was listening to the monitor beeping. Each beep was another breath of life for McKay.
Carson cursed, but then he sighed. "Fine...it's actually for the best. I'd rather be able to keep an eye on you. But you're putting on scrubs and I'll put you in the bed next to Rodney's."
John said nothing. He just sat there as Beckett did his thing. When it was done, John reached for his shirt.
"I'll take that," Carson said, snatching it from Sheppard's grasp. "I'll be back with the scrubs. You can have that bed." He pointed to one in the corner.
Sliding off the table, John moved to the chair next to Rodney's bed and sat back down. A few minutes later Beckett returned with the scrubs, a syringe and a couple of white tablets. John watched Beckett inject him, swallowed down the pills then accepted the scrubs. He pulled the top on and got up when Beckett gripped his good arm. John let himself be led over to the corner bed. He unlaced his boots but ignored the scrub bottoms. He shifted the pillow so he could sit up then he got on the bed and crossed his legs. John knew that he would be asleep soon. He knew that Beckett had slipped in a sedative. He didn't care.
John closed his eyes. He felt a blanket draped over him then the sound of Beckett's footsteps receding as he walked away. Leaning his head back, John listened to the beep of the heart monitor. Until even that reality faded away.