Thanks to everyone for the lovely FB. It keeps me motivated and is muchly appreciated.
Once back in the infirmary, John was almost grateful to climb into bed. He curled up on his side and dozed off for a bit. The next thing he knew Carson was taking his pulse and there was a flurry of sound and activity beside him. John peeled his eyes open and saw that another doctor was fussing over Ford. "Hey...how is he?" John asked, as he shifted upright.
"He'll be okay," Carson said, his tone tight.
"Good." John was glad to hear that. He knew Ford wasn't really okay, but he also knew that Carson was letting him know that -physically - Ford wasn't in any danger. "So...how are you doing, Doc?" John asked, seeing the lines of tension that marked the other man's face.
Carson heaved a sigh then scrubbed a hand over his face. "I've been better, Major," he allowed. Then he pushed at Sheppard. "Get your shoes off and crawl under the covers, will you?"
John did as he was told. He didn't want to give Carson a hard time. "I'm sorry about all this," he said, as he let the Scotsman fuss with his covers.
"Sorry?" Carson echoed. "What do you mean?"
"I mean us camping out in here and stuff." John went for a grin and failed. "I know you've got enough to deal with as it is."
Carson didn't deny it, but he did press a hand to Sheppard's side. "How are the ribs?" he asked.
John winced at Beckett pressed over a tender spot. "Still sore, but mending. I'm fine."
"You're handling this better than the others," Carson allowed. "And...for the record, you have nothing to apologize for. I'm just cranky because I'm tired, I've got a headache, I'm worried about you and the others and..." He broke off to heave a sigh.
"And...what?" John prompted.
Carson pulled a stool over and sat down heavily. "I just got word that one of the Athosian women that I've been caring for on the mainland lost her unborn child. The news came just before the incident in Heightmeyer's office, so I'm feeling as riled up as a wounded grizzly bear. It'll pass. It's just tough to lose one."
John understood that all too well. "You want to talk about it?" he offered. He wasn't one for talking about himself, but John had always considered himself to be a pretty good listener. Beckett always took good care of him and his team, so if the man needed someone to talk too, John could do that.
"I might take you up on your offer sometime," Carson allowed. "But right now I want you to rest. In a few hours I'll bring you something to eat. And rest easy, Major. I have someone looking out for Rodney and Teyla."
"Thanks." That tidbit of information did help to ease John's mind. Enough so that he was able to close his eyes and let himself drift into darkness.
He dreamed about the Wraith. About shooting Sumner. He dreamed about the Wraith finding Atlantis and breeching them. He hunted them down but it was too late. Ford and Rodney and Teyla were dead, lying in pools of their own blood. Their bodies soaked in blood. And the Wraith stood beside them, smiling as John reached them.
You did this, human!" they whispered.
John stared at the bodies in horror, shaking his head.
"No!" he shouted. "NO!"
He jolted awake, a scream trapped in his throat. He ached with the need to release it but John swallowed it down, one hand lifting to rub his throat, forcing the scream down and, with it, the bile that threatened to erupt if he opened his mouth.
It was dark and silent in the infirmary, making John's harsh breaths sound loud in his ears as he struggled to calm his rapidly beating heart. He sat up, shoving the covers off, wrapping his arms around his upraised knees and trying not to shake as the air touched his sweat-soaked skin.
John didn't know how long he sat there, rocking, breathing, shaking...but finally he felt the tremors subside and he could pull air into his lungs without feeling like he was going to puke. He uncurled his body and slid out of bed, gripping the side of it as his knees buckled. He looked towards the nurse's station that was barely visible and he could see a shadowy form bathed in soft, golden, light. The nurse hadn't stirred and John was grateful.
Finding his balance, he moved to the nearest bed and leaned over so that he could see Teyla's face. She was asleep but looked restless. Ford was to her left and he was twitching in his sleep. John ached for him. The kid was so young and this would change him in ways he had yet to realize. John wished he could spare him the change, but he couldn't.
Moving to the corner bed, John watched Rodney for a moment. The other man was curled up into a ball and there was a pained expression on his face, even in slumber. The fingers of one hand rested on his mouth, as if even in sleep Rodney needed to make sure his tongue was still there. That thought brought up the horrible illusion of Rodney's torture and John shook his head, wanting the pain that spiked to life in his temples. It banished the image and he turned away, heading for the bathroom.
John wanted to pretend everything was normal. He relieved himself then washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face. He caught his reflection in the mirror and he looked pale and haunted and he couldn't stop one hand from lifting to touch his face, touch his eyes. He shook away the memory and found himself running over to the toilet, emptying his - already empty - stomach.
He felt weak and worn out when he stumbled back over to the sink and grabbed for a bottle of mouthwash with a shaky hand. John rinsed, splashed cold water on his face again then slipped out of the bathroom. He knew he should get back in bed. He knew he needed to rest but he felt like the walls of the infirmary were closing in on him. The sight of his sleeping team members evoked more horrific images that danced in his head, a macabre reminder of what he was trying so damn hard to forget.
Backtracking to the exit at the other end of the infirmary, John slipped out into a darkened hallway, his stocking feet soundless on the cool floor. He was still sweat damp and shivering a bit, but it was real and it kept him feeling grounded in this reality. So John continued, meandering down one hallway after another until he reached the double doors on the south end of this level and they slid open, allowing him to step outside.
John moved to the railing, clutching it with both hands. Clinging to it more than anything as he felt his knees give out again. Eventually he slid down to the floor, back against the outside wall, knees drawn up and eyes fixed onto the night skye as he waited for dawn.
He should have known someone would find him long before then. The doors whooshed open and John didn't open his eyes as footsteps echoed in his ears. When they fell silent he opened his eyes and found Elizabeth hovering beside him. "Beckett?" John guessed.
"He called me after the nurse called him. You shouldn't have disappeared like that, John." Elizabeth's tone of voice was lightly scolding as she moved to sit beside him. "It's cold out here." That said as she draped a blanket over him.
"Thanks." John clutched it to him, gratefully. He was shivering from the cool dampness that had seeped under his skin. "So...how did you know I was out here?"
Elizabeth shrugged. "Life signs. You're the only one out this far."
John realized he should have guessed that. "Sorry if I worried you." And he meant it. She had enough to worry her as it was. Running Atlantis wasn't easy and John didn't envy Elizabeth her position. He was fully aware of the fact that his own actions were often stress inducing for her.
"Are you okay?" Elizabeth countered.
"I'm fine." John realized it was a pat answer but he meant it. He was fine because he had to be. But he was glad it was too dark for her to see him clearly. He knew he looked like shit.
Elizabeth leaned into him, nudging his shoulder. "So what are you doing out here? Star gazing?"
John almost smiled at that. "Sort of," he allowed. "I just...I needed to breathe." He hoped she would understand without him having to explain.
"There's plenty of air inside," Elizabeth said quietly.
"I needed to be alone." John clarified and he felt her draw away a bit. He could feel her eyes on him, straining in her attempt to try and read him. He didn't point out that she couldn't read him any other time. Know one could. John never let anyone get that close.
Elizabeth sighed softly. "I know this isn't going to be easy, John. What you went through...all of you...it's going to take time."
He nodded, wondering if she could see the motion in the dark. "I know. We'll get through this. Rodney, Ford and Teyla...they're stronger than they know. They'll be okay...I'll make sure of it." And he would make sure. He'd do whatever it took to make it so.
"You don't have to do it alone," Elizabeth countered.
"No one else can understand what happened," John shot back. He said nothing more. It wasn't something he could explain.
There was a long moment of silence then Elizabeth rose to her feet. "Come on, I'll walk you back. If you don't return with me, Carson is sending the cavalry after you."
John winced, knowing Beckett would do it. He didn't want to leave, but he struggled to his feet, still clutching at the blanket. He felt Elizabeth's hand on his arm and let her guide him towards the door. He was too tired to protest. All John wanted to do was sleep with the hope of waking up and everything that had happened would be nothing more than a bad dream.
Carson was waiting for them when they arrived, looking rumpled and worn out. He eyed John then took him by the arm, nodding at Weir, who drifted off. "You need to shower and change," Carson stated, as he led John to the bathroom. "Can you manage?"
"Yeah...I'm fine. Sorry I worried you." John shrugged off the blanket, missing its warmth now that he was left in damp sweats and tee shirt.
"It's what you do, Major," Carson replied, but there was an almost fondness in his tone. He pressed a hand to John's forehead. "No temp, but let's not push it. Get showered and I'll bring some scrubs. Then back to bed and I'll give you something to help you sleep."
John shook his head. "I'll sleep on my own." The offer was tempting but John knew that nightmares could penetrate any level of unconsciousness, even a drugged one, and when sedated the mind was more vulnerable. Plus, as tired as he was, John felt the need to keep watch over his team. So he entered the bathroom, shucked his clothes, showered quickly, letting the hot water seep into his cold skin, then he dressed in the scrubs Beckett dropped off before making his way back to his bed. John could tell that the sheets had been changed.
Carson gestured for John to get in. "Are you sure you don't want something to help you sleep?" he asked, as he fussed with the covers.
"I'm good." John spoke firmly, eyes locking with Beckett's. The man had enough on his mind, just like Weir. John did not want to add to his worries.
"All right then." Carson patted John's shoulder. "Call for the nurse if you need anything."
John nodded, then asked, "Can I get out of here tomorrow?"
Carson made a face at him. "We'll see. Get some sleep, Major." With that he was gone.
John didn't close his eyes. He used his connection with Atlantis to raise the lights again, just enough so he could see his teammates, then he settled in to watch over them for the rest of the night.
The others awoke in stages. Rodney was the first one up and John greeted him with a smile. He wanted to talk to Rodney but the moment McKay was awake, he was on his feet and muttering about needing to take care of something in his lab. Before John could protest, he was out of the infirmary.
John considered getting up and going after him. He got so far as to push the covers off and slide out of bed when Teyla awoke. So John held off and went to her, seeing a bit of confusion in her eyes. It sucked waking up and feeling disoriented by your surroundings. "Did you sleep well?" John asked, as he stood next to her bed.
"Yes...well enough," Teyla replied, as she rubbed at her eyes with the heel of one hand. "I did not dream."
"That's good." John just wished she didn't look so tired. She might have slept, but she wasn't really getting any rest. He knew the signs of that all too well.
Teyla slipped off her bed. "How are you feeling, Major? Should you be up?"
John managed a genuine smile, hoping it would ease the worry he read on her face. "I'm good...I'll be released in a bit." It was a bit of a stretch of the truth, but John was certain Beckett would release him, relatively soon. "Teyla...do you feel like talking?" John touched her arm, drawing her attention back from the inward focus he could tell she had shifted too. He recognized the haunted look in her eyes.
"Perhaps later," Teyla replied, with a slight nod. "I think I will go now and prepare for the day." And with that she was slipping past and him gliding away.
"Dammit!" John felt frustration wash over him. His team...his friends...they needed his help and he didn't know what to do to help them. Resisting the urge to heave a dramatic sigh, John settled for running his fingers through his hair then he went searching for his clothes. He was getting ready to find the nurse and beg for them when Ford stirred. John was by his side in a heartbeat. "Ford?"
With a strangled cry, Ford's eyes flew open and he jack-knifed into a sitting position, eyes wide and dark with fear.
John gripped his shoulder, hoping to center him. "Ford...it's okay. You're in the infirmary. You're okay." He spoke softly, not wanting to spook Ford further.
"Sir...sorry.." Ford pulled away, shifting about so he could stand up. "Bad dream." His voice cracked and he was panting, trying to catch his breath against the suffocating grip of sheer terror.
"I know." John kept his distance, giving Ford a chance to pull himself together. "Do you want me to call Beckett?"
Ford shook his head, then ran a hand over his face, wiping away the cold sweat that slicked his skin. "I...I'll be fine, sir."
John allowed a soft sigh to escape. "I know you will." But his words sounded hollow to his own ears. He knew Ford was having the hardest time dealing with what had happened. John felt a wave of regret crash over him. Ford was too young to have to deal with this traumatic shit. John wished there was someway he could make Ford forget what had happened. He was half tempted to talk to Heightmeyer about hypnotism, and not just for Ford. For his entire team. John knew they all wanted nothing more than to forget.
"I need some air," Ford said suddenly, then he bolted from the room.
Instinct propelled John into going after him, but he was blocked by Beckett's sudden presence in the doorway.
"Let him be, Major," Carson said firmly, gripping John by the arm and steering him back to his bed. "Hop up and let me take a look at you."
"Ford shouldn't be alone," John protested, pulling his arm free. "He's...this is really messing with him."
Carson nodded. "I know that...but maybe it's for the best that he spend some time on his own. I spoke with Kate just over breakfast and she thinks it might be best if the lot of you sleep in your own rooms tonight. Maybe the separation will kick in the healing instinct, so to speak. Mind you, Kate had a much more technical term for it."
John knew the term, he had minored in psychology in college. "Maybe she's right," he conceded. He then let Beckett push him back onto the bed and suffered through another exam. When Beckett was done John asked, "Can I go now?"
"Aye...but I want you to get something to eat then you're to take it easy for the day, Major." Carson shook a finger at him as he spoke.
"I'll be good," John promised. He didn't want to find himself back in the infirmary. It was not his favorite place to be. The only thing he planned on doing was keeping an eye on his team. Sliding off the bed, John headed for the door but stopped when he remembered something. "By the way...where are my clothes?" And by that he meant his original uniform, which he realized he had never gotten back.
Carson grinned. "I sent it to the laundry. You should know by now, Major, that I never keep your clothes here. Too much of a temptation for the likes of you." Carson made shooing motions at him now. "Go eat."
John nodded and took off. Since he was wearing scrubs the first thing he did was go back to his room to change. Once he was dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, he headed back out and stepped into the nearest transporter. Breakfast could wait. The first thing he needed to do was talk to Rodney.