Elizabeth looked at everyone who was scattered around the conference room table. Beckett and Kate, along with Rodney, Teyla and Ford. All of them looked shell-shocked and she knew she looked the same. She hadn't been at the session when Major Sheppard had suffered his breakdown, neither had Beckett, but they had heard the - first account - details from the others. Kate's had been the most clinical.
The breakdown had occurred four hours ago and now it was time to focus on what had happened and why. She looked to Beckett for answers. "How is Major Sheppard?" Elizabeth asked.
Carson sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away his exhaustion. "Physically he's exhausted, sore, run down, dehydrated and malnourished. All things I can take care of, so he'll heal in that respect."
"Emotionally?" Elizabeth prompted, when Beckett fell silent.
"Dr. Heightmeyer can help you with that," Carson stated.
So Elizabeth looked to the other woman. "What happened?"
Kate looked as exhausted as everyone else, but she forced a smile to curve her lips, as if to offer reassurance before delivering the bad news. "I can only guess at what happened, since I can't ask the major right now, but I'm...guessing...that he was tortured as well. Psychologically tortured, the same as his team was."
"Why didn't he tell us?" Rodney interjected, his face red and eyes flashing with anger.
"I think he felt that you and your team mates had enough to deal with, without worrying about him as well." Kate kept her voice pitched low and she reached out and patted Rodney's hand, waiting until he visibly relaxed to continue. "I also believe that guilt pushed him to keep quiet about what he suffered through."
Teyla looked confused. "Guilt?"
Ford was the one to reply to that. "He blamed himself for what happened." His voice sounded gritty with emotion and his eyes were bright as he lifted his head to look at everyone. "We blamed him for what happened, of course he would blame himself."
"Stupid Kirk complex," Rodney muttered, as he twisted his fingers into knots on the tabletop.
"He can't really believe any of what happened was his fault," Elizabeth commented, to no one in particular. But she saw Kate nodded and focused on that. "But why?"
Kate shrugged. "Major Sheppard has never talked with me before this incident so what I know of him comes from reading his files and observing him here on Atlantis. But he takes his responsibilities to heart. He believes in protecting his people. Protecting Atlantis...protecting his team. I think he feels he's failed on a lot of levels and all the more so with his team, which would make it extremely personal for him. He tries to keep himself detached and, to a certain extent, he seems to succeed. But, at the same time, it's been my observation that Major Sheppard is a very passionate man. He feels deeply. His inability to protect his team, to save them from being tortured, would have hit him on an extremely personal level."
Teyla looked upset. "But it was not his fault. He had no control over what happened," she protested.
"Which touches on another issue for the major," Kate continued. "Control. He was helpless to help you. He had no way or means of stopping what happened. He had no...control. I don't think he deals well with that." Kate looked at Elizabeth. "As well you know," she added softly.
"Yes." Elizabeth did know. She remembered how Sheppard had been gung ho to storm the Hive Ship after their people, along with Teyla and some Athosians, had been captured. And how he had disobeyed her orders to stay put when Peterson had escaped quarantine and had been making his way to the gate room. John Sheppard didn't do well on the sidelines with nothing to do. He felt the need to be involved, to take action, in any and all situations. She understood his frustrations, she just had to overcome them in her position. But his need for control had saved them all, time and time again. "So what happens now?" Elizabeth prompted.
Carson piped up. "We wait. There's nothing else we can do at the moment. Major Sheppard's vitals are good but..." Carson hesitated.
Rodney had no patience. "But what?" he snapped at the doctor.
"But...the major is unresponsive at the moment."
"What does that mean?" Teyla queried.
Carson sighed. "Well...the best way I can explain it is that he's not unconscious or sleeping exactly. He's just...not reacting to outside stimuli. He doesn't respond if you talk to him or touch him."
Rodney looked worried. "Catatonic?"
"Not exactly," Carson replied.
"Can we see him?" Rodney was already on his feet as if to head straight to the infirmary.
Carson watched the others follow suit. "One of you can visit, for now," he allowed.
Elizabeth watched Sheppard's team exchange glances. Without a word they seemed to reach an unspoken agreement.
"Dr. McKay will sit with him," Teyla announced, calmly. She then moved to Ford and took him by the arm, guiding him out of the room.
"Go," Elizabeth said to Rodney, when he just stood there, watching her. She knew he was waiting for permission from her, offering her the chance to go in his place. A part of Elizabeth wanted to go. She wanted to be the one to check on John. But Rodney had earned the right, as John's friend. "Go," she repeated. She watched Rodney almost run from the room, and then she turned to Beckett and Kate. "Will Major Sheppard recover?" she asked. She needed to know. If he wasn't going to be all right, then she had to figure out what to do. How to replace him. But how did one replace the irreplaceable?
Kate reached out and touched Elizabeth on the arm. "All I have to go on right now is my gut feeling but, I think we can get him through this. He's a strong man."
Elizabeth nodded. There was no denying that. After reading Sheppard's files about what his life had been like before Atlantis, then everything he had suffered through since coming here, Elizabeth knew the kind of man Sheppard was. "The strongest man I know," she said, confidently. Forcing a smile, Elizabeth turned to Beckett. "Let me know when I can see him." With that she left the room. There was work to be done.
He couldn't breathe. Every breath he tried to suck in burned his lungs and he couldn't inhale deep enough. He panted out short, ragged, breaths, gagging a bit each time. He could feel his heart, thudding against his rib cage, feel the too fast beat, echoing in his ears. John knew he was suffocating. Panic washed over him in waves, pressing him deeper into the suffocating darkness...
"Major!"
He jolted at the sound of a voice over him. Body jerking, jack-knifing upright. He felt hands on his shoulders, steadying him as he tried to suck in air. His lungs burned, his heart was about to burst through his chest...
"CARSON!"
John recognized Rodney's voice screaming. He wanted to say something but he couldn't form the words. He didn't have the breath to push them out anyway. Then something was pressing over his nose and mouth and John fought against it until hands gripped his wrists. Then another familiar voice over him. Beckett's.
"Easy, Major. Just relax. I'm trying to help you breathe easier. Just a bit of oxygen and you'll feel better."
He realized that the thing over his face was an oxygen mask and this time when he sucked in he could feel the cool intake of air expanding his lungs. A short exhale and then another moment of sucking in sweet air.
A hand patted his shoulder and Carson said softly, "That's it, Major. Slow breaths and you'll be fine."
Reality came shifting into focus in hazy increments. John was suddenly aware of a beeping sound and the tug of a needle taped to the back of his left hand. He was in the infirmary. With effort he peeled open his eyes and blinked hard. Beckett's face came into view and the doctor was smiling.
"Is he okay?" It was Rodney in the background.
"He'll be fine." Carson spoke with calm certainty as he pulled out his penlight and flashed it on Sheppard's eyes. "Feeling better now, Major?" he asked.
John nodded then tapped at the mask over his face, wanting it removed. He remembered how to breathe again. A moment later the mask slipped off and John licked his dry lips. "Water?" His voice was rough and scratchy.
Carson grabbed the glass of water that always seemed to be at the ready, and held the straw to John's lips. "Just a sip or two, Major," he ordered.
Doing as he was told, John took a few sips then swallowed the sweet coolness, letting it eased his parched throat. "So...what happened?" he asked, as he shifted about in an attempt to sit up more. Only to have Beckett grab the bed controls and raise the head so he was sitting up fully. "Thanks," he said to the doc.
"What do you mean what happened?" Rodney interjected, moving to the other side of the bed. "You freaked out on us! That's what happened!"
"Freaked out?" John echoed, looking to Beckett for an explanation.
Carson patted John on the shoulder. "Since I don't think I'm going to be able to shut him up, I'll let Rodney explain while I go contact Dr. Heightmeyer. Call me if you need me." With that, Carson was gone.
John looked at Rodney. "You're pissed at me." It was a statement of fact, not a question. Rodney's eyes were wide and flashing with anger and that anger was focused directly at John.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Rodney demanded.
"Tell you what?" John was beyond confused now.
Rodney moved closer, fingers closing over the bedrails and squeezing until his knuckles turned white. "Why did you lie to us, Major? Why didn't you tell us that you were tortured too!"
John flinched at Rodney's accusations, wondering where the hell he came up with them. "What do you mean, lie to you?" John countered, focusing on that accusation first. "We were talking in Heightmeyer's office and the next thing I know I wake up here. What the hell happened?" John was beginning to get worried about how much time he had lost and why.
"You honestly don't remember what happened?" Rodney looked stunned.
"We were talking and..." John broke off, shaking his head as he tried to remember the details.
Rodney grabbed a chair, pulled it over and sat down. "You were talking," he said, his voice toned down a few notches. He suddenly looked worn out and weary. "You were telling us what you saw. How they made you watch us being...being tortured. Then you kind of detached and you started saying things, like you were reliving what happened. You said you couldn't see and then you stuffed yourself in the corner of the room and just...you went away. Then you went into convulsions or something and just went limp." Rodney was shaking a bit as he told the story.
John listened with a kind of detachment. He still didn't remember that happening and he thought he should be more upset about that than he was, but he was more focused on getting Rodney to calm down. "I'm sorry," he said softly.
"Sorry?" Rodney blinked at him in surprise. "Sorry for what? For lying? For not trusting us?"
"I do trust you," John countered, offering a smile. "I just...you had enough to deal with, Rodney. All of you. You didn't need to share my burden."
Rodney jumped to his feet, eyes flashing again. "You're unbelievable, you know that? What happened...it happened to all of us! You should have said something!"
John nodded, hoping that the gesture would appease Rodney. "You're right. I should have." John wasn't sure what else to say but he was saved by Heightmeyer's arrival with Beckett.
"How are you feeling, Major?" Kate asked, as she approached his bed.
"I'm not sure." John gestured to the IV in his hand then looked at Beckett. "Is this really necessary?"
Carson nodded. "For now it is. Do you feel up to chatting with Dr. Heightmeyer?"
John shrugged. "Sure." He noticed Rodney had drifted into the background, but he hadn't left. John didn't mind if Rodney listened. He had nothing to hide anymore. Given the fact he'd, apparently, fallen apart in front of everyone.
"Do you remember what happened, Major?" Kate asked.
"Not really." John picked at the tape that held the IV needle in place. "Rodney told me I freaked out. I don't remember doing it." John realized it was odd that he felt so calm about it. "I'm sorry about all the drama."
Kate shook her head at him. "No apologies necessary, Major. You've suffered an extremely traumatic experience and you tried to block it out, but you're mind wasn't willing to let you do that. I think that's a good thing."
John took her at her word. "If you say so."
"What is the last thing you remember?" Kate prompted. "You were telling us how you were forced to watch your team mates tortured, Major and then you slipped away from us. Can you tell me now what happened to you?"
"I can do that." John waited a moment, expecting to feel uneasy or angry, but he didn't feel anything. So he looked at Heightmeyer and told her what she wanted to know. "They locked me in a room that looked like a box. They hit me a few times, not what I would call an intentional beating. Then they tortured me when they were done with the others. They stabbed my eyes out." John remembered the moment with vivid clarity. He closed his eyes and replayed the knife driving into his eye. He didn't flinch at the memory. He opened his eyes to find Heightmeyer and Beckett watching him closely. They looked worried.
Heightmeyer patted his arm. "Thank you, Major. I think that's enough for now. You should rest. I'll stop by tomorrow so we can talk again."
John nodded. "Okay." If she wanted to talk, he'd talk.
"Can I get you anything, Major?" Carson asked, as he fussed with the covers for a moment. He looked uncertain and concerned.
"I'm a little hungry," John replied.
Carson looked relieved. "I'll send for a tray."
John grabbed his arm and said, "Get two, I bet Rodney's hungry." John looked at McKay and smiled as he spoke.
"Aye...two trays coming up," Carson allowed, then he slipped out of the room.
"Hey, Rodney...feel like talking?" John invited, as he shifted on the bed to find a more comfortable position. He ribs still ached and pain throbbed in his temples, but John was able to ignore it for the most part. He was more concerned with Rodney.
Pulling the chair back over to the bed, Rodney sat down and stared at John. "There's nothing more to talk about," he whispered, and his voice sounded hollow.
John stared back at him, the image of Rodney strapped down and bleeding, flashing in his head. But it didn't freak him out this time and John was relieved. He willed the image away and said, "You can get past this, Rodney. You're stronger than you know."
"I just want to forget it ever happened." Rodney scrubbed at his eyes with one hand. "I'm so tired of this. It's all I think about. It's all I can think about."
"You have to keep in mind that it wasn't real. I know it felt real, but it wasn't." John watched Rodney stand up and pace around the room. He let a heavy silence fall between them because he didn't know what else to say right now. He remembered how frightened Rodney had been. He remembered his own reaction to watching Rodney being tortured, but it felt like something that had happened a million years ago.
Before the silence could become too unbearable, Beckett returned, along with a nurse, bearing trays. "Soup for you, Major," Carson stated, as he set it down on the moveable tray table and slid it over John's lap.
Rodney accepted a tray with two sandwiches on it. He sat down in the chair and stared at his food.
"Eat up, Major," Carson ordered. "You need to get your strength up."
"I know." John stared at what looked like tomato soup and picked up his spoon. "Can I get out of here after I eat?" he asked, taking his first swallow of soup.
Carson shook his head. "No...I want to keep you under observation for at least twenty-four more hours. We'll talk after that."
John didn't argue, he simply took another swallow of soup, nodding when Beckett excused himself. He noticed Rodney didn't touch his food. "Not hungry?" John asked.
"No...I'm not." Rodney set the tray aside. "You're the skinny one anyway."
"Not skinny," John argued, more in the hopes to bring a smile to Rodney's face and egg him into a snappy comeback. But neither was forthcoming. So John took another swallow of soup, then another. It didn't taste like tomato soup. It didn't taste like anything. He wasn't hungry and after a few bites his stomach felt uncomfortably full. But John kept eating, swallowing spoonful after spoonful until the bowl was empty.
Rodney had watched, looking morbidly fascinated. Then he shook himself and muttered, "I have to go. Work to do." He almost ran out of the room.
John didn't try to stop him. He wanted to be alone. But it didn't last long. Beckett reappeared and checked on his progress.
"Good to see you finally eating again, Major," Carson said, looking pleased as he took the tray and pushed the moving table back against the wall.
"Can I take a shower?" John countered. "I feel gritty and itchy."
Carson considered a moment, then nodded. "I'll detach the IV from the bag is almost empty and tape over it." As he spoke he was doing just that. A moment later he patted John's hand. "You can shower then I'll reattach the line and hang a new bag. Just don't be long and call if you need help." He moved to a shelving unit in the corner and came back with a fresh pair of scrubs. "Need help getting up?"
John shook his head as he pushed the covers back and stood up. "I'm good." He accepted the scrubs and made his way to the bathroom. Once there he stripped and stepped into the shower. He turned the water on, letting it run cold before stepping under the spray. The temperature should have made his skin icy, but John didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything. The numbness inside him was spreading outward and the only thing John even - remotely - felt, was relief.