Note to reviewers: I could never thank you enough for all the wonderful encouragement. Fuel to the fire. Every time I read them I want to run type another chapter. My initial terror at posting something I wrote for others to read is turning into a burning desire to write more. I don't know if that's good or bad, but I am having SUCH a good time. Thanks for always being so kind. And for those of you keeping up...another chapter.
The Long Trip Home - Chapter 7
Ford almost knocked two people down as he ran to the infirmary. Hours of pent up frustration caused him to sprint recklessly down the corridor. He had listened to the radio exchanges between Atlantis and Jumper One about the continuing deterioration of his CO's condition for seven hours and he was exhausted with worry. Every time the radio had crackled to life, his stomach would lurch and tighten in anticipation. A fifteen hour trip to the hospital is not a good thing when you are seriously injured.
As the travelers had reached Atlantis, he had finally relaxed a little. Major Sheppard would soon be in Dr. Beckett's hands. Beckett had saved Sheppard, as well as other team members, from the brink of death on more than one occasion. In his mind, he reasoned that once the major was in Beckett's capable hands, all would be well.
As Jumper One descended into the jumper bay andFord anxiously awaited their turn to land, McKay's panicked voice came over the radio. "Beckett, get in here. NOW! We're losing him!"
That was the last radio transmission. As they had hovered over the jumper bay, watching medical personnel stream into the jumper, Ford's muscles had knotted tighter and tighter until he felt like a trap ready to spring. A few minutes later, a gurney with Sheppard's still form was rushed out of the jumper bay, medical team running along side.
"Can't you get this thing down any faster?" Ford snapped at Markham, the pilot.
Unphased, Markham replied, "No sir. Jumper One is parked in the door, so to speak. I have to wait for someone to move it before we can go in." He had not taken offense to Ford's sharp request. Although he was worried about the major, he knew Lt. Ford was especially close to the Sheppard. His whole team was almost like a family. Markham had conversed with others on the base about the way members of the team would often finish each other's sentences or complete their tasks. There was a connection of acceptance, experience, and familiarity that almost baffled those around them. In spite of the sometimes playful, sometimes belligerent banter that occurred, especially between Sheppard and McKay, the members of the team just fit together like a puzzle. He knew Ford was afraid they were losing the central piece of the puzzle.
Ford rushed into the infirmary and over to the others in time to hear a nurse report. "Dr. Beckett will be with you as soon as he can. He said to wait here."
Weir frowned. "Can you tell us anything about Major Sheppard's condition?"
The nurse hesitated. "It's really too early to tell." She tried to smile reassuringly. "Dr. Beckett will take good care of him, of that you can be assured." With that, she hurried off across the infirmary.
A sort of waiting room had been set up at one end of the infirmary, with chairs scattered across the space. They all sat briefly at first, but one by one began to pace and move around nervously. What seemed like hours later, Carson Beckett joined them.
"I can't stay but a minute. We've got to get him to surgery to stop the internal bleeding. I'd like to stabilize him a little more first, but his blood pressure is dropping too fast. I think we've reached the 'now or never' stage. I'll let ya know when we're done." Without waiting for questions, he turned and left.
They stood in silence a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts and fears. Ford tried to sound positive. "Hey guys, he'll be fine. It's the major. He's been in trouble before , but he always comes out on top. He'll be okay. Nine lives and all."
After a few minutes, Rodney asked quietly, "So which one is he on now?"
No one wanted to count.
A few minutes later, the nurse who had spoken to them earlier returned. McKay was sitting in one of the chairs, his head in his hands. The nurse kneeled in front of him, gently placing her hand on his arm. "Dr. McKay?"
McKay lowered his arms and looked at the nurse. She gave him a small smile as she placed a set of clean scrubs in his lap.
"What's this?" he asked.
"Dr. McDaniel will be here to check you out in a few minutes. I thought you might want get cleaned up and put on some clothes that aren't quite so...battered. You'll feel a lot better."
McKay began shaking his head even before she finished speaking. "No, no, no. I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here. Besides, I'm fine. I'm not the one who spent a whole day going around and around with a wraith. All I did was sit and watch while Gaul..." McKay's voice trailed off and he looked down, his eyes filled with sadness. "Look, I'm fine. And what's wrong with my clothes?"
The nurse continued to talk in a soothing voice, which irritated McKay to no end. He felt as though her were being patronized and he didn't like it one bit. That was his job. "Dr. McKay, you know a post mission check up is required. It won't hurt to be sure you are okay. As to what's wrong with your clothes..."
McKay waved his hand. "Never mind, I get the picture." He had begun to realize he was completely covered in dirt and sweat. In the back of his mind, he wondered if there might be little bits of scorched wraith in the mix. Some things are better off left unknown.
The nurse watched him as he continued to sit there. "He won't be out of surgery for a long time, Dr. McKay. You won't miss anything. Come with me and I'll show you where you can get cleaned up and changed." She guided him to his feet as she wondered if he might be in shock himself.
He looked at her questioningly. "What if...what if...something...happens?"
"I promise I'll come get you. Now let's try and stay positive." she replied.
McKay jerked his head up to stare at her. Sheppard's voice echoed in his head. "Let's try and stay positive." Yeah, that had worked really well. The whole glass-half-full routine hadn't done Sheppard a bit of good. He let the nurse lead him away.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
McKay stood in the shower, letting the hot water wash over him. It felt good to be ridding himself of the dirt, sweat, and ...anything else that may be mixed in. He had set the water temperature as hot as he could stand it without getting scalded and it soon filled the small room with steam. He breathed it in deeply. He needed to feel clean both inside and out. He briefly felt some of the tension in his muscles begin to ease slightly. Rodney closed his eyes against the mounting, throbbing headache only to snap them open again. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Brendan's aged face and the haunting look of fear that engulfed it. Then he could hear the gun discharge. It played in his mind over and over. He wasn't sure how long he stood like that, but he suddenly realized someone was tapping at the door.
"Dr. McKay, are you all right?" He could hear the concern in her voice, even through the door.
"Yeah! I'm good." He flinched when he realized what he had said. "I'm just getting out." With that, he turned off the water.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
McKay sat on the exam table, hair still damp from his shower. "Why do doctors always have to do that?" he complained as he pulled away from the doctor examining him.
"Do what?" he asked, once again trying to shine the small light in McKay's right eye.
"That! You know, the light-in-the-eye thing. They could haul me in here with a broken leg and the first thing you would do is shine a light in my eye. What does that have to do with anything?" McKay was really exasperated now, raising his voice and waving his arms around.
The doctor calmly watched in silence until McKay had finished ranting. "To answer your question, it can tell us a lot about level of consciousness and neurological involvement, which may or may not be apparent in other ways. But, of course, the main purpose is to annoy patients like you. You know you really are going to have to calm down. I'd hate to have to sedate you just for a post mission exam."
"There. That's another thing. Beckett's always threatening to sedate people and telling them to calm down. So did you two attend the same school for witchdoctors, or is this pretty much a universal theme?"
Dr. McDaniel smiled. "Pretty much universal."
"Figures," retorted McKay. "Okay, I've seen the light show, now what else do you need? I'd really like to get back out there with the others." McKay looked longingly at the door.
McDaniel looked down at the chart. "Your blood pressure is too high. Since you haven't had a problem with that before, I'm going with the assumption that it's stress related. You look very tired. You need to rest. How do YOU feel?"
"Oh I'm just peachy," he replied sarcastically. "Why would I be tired and stressed? Let me see, in the last 48 hours I have eaten little and slept less, watched a good man die, watched a good friend get the crap beaten out of him by a wraith, almost been blown up, and flown a jumper for seven hours while listening to the life drain out of one of the best friends I've ever had, not to metion one of the best men I've ever known. Now I sit her creating idle chatter with you while I wait to hear if he's still going to be with us when we get up in the morning. All in all, a pretty good time. Can't imagine why you might think I have stress. Can I go now?" It was more of a challenge than a question.
Dr. McDaniel was beginning to understand some of Beckett's moods. But he also understood that McKay's anger was born of concern for his friend, as well as the mental and physical trials of the trip. "Go and be with your friends. As soon as Sheppard is out of surgery, I expect you to eat something and then get some rest. I mean lying down in your quarters rest, not dozing in a chair in here rest. I won't hesitate to slap your butt in a bed if you refuse. Carson and I also both took uncooperative patients 101...and I got an A plus."
McKay was too tired and too worried to argue. He just nodded as he got up to go. He hesitated a minute, looking back at the doctor that he didn't know nearly as well as Carson. He felt a little guilty at giving the man such a hard time. He, like Carson, was just trying to look out for their best interests. He smiled and nodded at the doctor in lieu of an apology. "Thanks," he said softly before slipping out the door. McDaniel smiled in the realization that McKay understood he was there to help, not to harm. That was all he wanted.
McKay had almost broken into a run by the time he reached the area where the others waited. "Any word?' he asked breathlessly.
Weir shook her head. "Are you all right?" She looked worried and kept rubbing her eyes, he suspected wiping away tears.
"Yeah, I'm good." He winced. "Sorry about that."
"Well, since he's obviously starting to rub off on you, let me ask you again and I want an honest answer. Are you okay?" She peered at him as if she were trying to see inside him.
"Elizabeth, I'm fine. He told me to get something to eat and get some rest once we know about Sheppard. That's all, I promise." He looked away quickly, hoping she didn't see how haunted he was or how guilty he felt.
She knew there was more going on, but she could tell Rodney wasn't ready to talk about it yet. He seemed to be handling it for the moment, so she decided to let it pass until later. Once they knew John was going to be okay, they could move on to other things. She leaned back against the wall, letting it support her. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her forehead. Why did he do this to her? Every time he was late, every time he came back injured, it was like something squeezing her heart until she couldn't breathe. She knew the way he played Russian roulette with his life, that one day he wouldn't come home or Beckett wouldn't be able to bring him back. The thought made her sick. Please don't letthat daybe today.