PROTECTIVE INSTINCTS part two
A/N If Sheppard appears confused in this part, that's because he is. I wanted to give the impression of someone's mind being slowly taken over...
And thank you everyone for the fantastic reveiws. It keeps the bunnies happy, and I'm writing...
Dr. Weir was sitting in her office ostensibly going through some reports, but in reality woolgathering when Beckett came in. His whole demeanour was one of anger, though he was doing his best to hold it in.
"How is Major Sheppard?" she asked, gesturing for Beckett to sit. He complied, but took a moment before answering.
"The Major is dehydrated and suffering the effects of being held by hostiles whose only intent seems to have been to hurt him as much as they could. I can't tell too much in the brig, he needs X-rays and a thorough going over, but he's hurting. I've given him what I can for now, he'd only have painkillers, and mild ones at that, but I would really like to get him to the infirmary as soon as possible."
"Has he said anything about why he wants to be confined?"
"No, but underneath all the physical damage there's…something else. I tried to get him to talk to me, but he just clammed up. You know how he can be."
Elizabeth knew exactly how he could be.
"Well, we can't keep him in there for ever, sooner or later he'll have to explain himself. Would a chat with Dr. Heightmeyer help?"
Beckett sighed. "I thought of that," he admitted, "But I think what's needed now is for the Major to rest and get some fluids inside him. Then we can talk psychology. Major Sheppard is – er- resistant to analysis at the best of times."
Elizabeth nodded. "Well, keep an eye on him, and keep me informed."
Beckett agreed, then left. He had some of Sheppard's blood work he wanted to examine.
oOo
Major Sheppard lay on the cot in the Brig, one arm over his face, shielding his eyes from the lights which were too bright. Carson had finally done with him and had left, promising to come back later, extracting a promise in return that John would sleep. John was desperate to sleep; he'd had far too little of it in the past few days, but despite his best efforts, that blissful state continued to elude him.
He told himself the lights were too bright, and the tug in his left hand from the IV that Beckett had insisted he had was annoying, but it wasn't really these small irritations that were stopping him from dropping off. If he was really honest with himself, he was too afraid to sleep.
He shifted restlessly, feeling the aches and pains from his abused body. They were bearable now that the Doc had filled him full of painkillers, but they were still there. Beckett had wanted John to have the really strong stuff, the oblivion – inducing happy meds, but the Major had been adamant in his refusal. He needed the pain as long as it wasn't debilitating. A little pain kept him sharp.
He shifted restlessly again. Then there were the voices. Just on the edge of his hearing, so he felt as if he had to constantly strain to hear what they were saying. A susurration of noise like a hundred people all whispering at once. He had a feeling the voices wanted him to do something, something he wouldn't normally do, and he was resisting. That was why he was afraid to sleep, afraid to be sedated. He didn't know what would happen if he let go. And that was why he needed to be confined securely. Even John Sheppard couldn't stay awake for ever.
The Major knew that Elizabeth and Beckett wanted him to talk, to tell them why, but he wasn't ready to face it yet, not ready to acknowledge the violation that Jaq'an and the others on that planet had done to him.
God, he needed to SLEEP!
He began to feel an urge to move. The compulsion grew, he resisted. The voices grew louder, somehow telling him to move, to get out. He shifted again. And then again. Finally, he sat up, carefully swinging his legs over the edge of the cot, planting his elbows on his knees, and burrowing his face into his hands. He was aware Ford was watching him, concerned, but he ignored him. The voices were louder, pulsing inside his head, back and forth, ebb and flow. He pressed his hands against his temples, as if trying to block it out, or hold it in. Louder. They were getting louder, like bats beating around the inside of his skull.
"Goddammit! Shut up!" he yelled.
"Sir?" From Ford. "Major? Are you alright?"
Sheppard stood unsteadily, and began to pace, the IV dragged out of his hand by his restless motion, blood dripping onto the floor unnoticed as he limped around the cell. He had to get out, he had to get away, somewhere quiet, somewhere the voices wouldn't find him, somewhere he could think. He felt as if the walls of the cell, open as they were, were closing in on him. The lights pulsed in time with the voices, and now the whispering brought pain. White hot needles, stabbing, drilling into his skull.
Out. He had to get out. The pacing stopped. 'Out' whispered the voices, 'outoutoutout'. Now he couldn't bear to be confined, not one moment longer.He began to hurl himself against the bars, thrown back by the forcefield he had insisted upon himself, staggering up to hurl himself at the bars again, and again…
Appalled, Ford hit the panic button shouting for Beckett and a medical team…
oOo
Beckett was back in Dr. Weir's office, updating her on the major's condition.
"I found something in Major Sheppard's blood sample," he said. "He has exceptionally high levels of adrenalin circulating. Something is stressing him much more than usual."
"Doctor, he's just been held captive and tortured. I would say that would increase his stress levels."
"No, I've taken that into account. This is something else." He sighed , "He really needs to be in the infirmary. Levels this high could indicate a malfunction of his adrenal glands, or something else that I haven't even begun to contemplate yet."
Elizabeth was about to answer when Ford's voice crackled over their intercoms. He sounded strained, urgent.
"We need a medical team to the brig!" he shouted.
"Crap!" swore Beckett as he headed out at a run.
Elizabeth followed closely behind. "Meet you in the brig!" she called after his retreating figure.
As Dr. Weir entered the holding area, she could hear Ford talking to the Major.
"Sir, Major, are you alright? Sir, you should stop." Ford almost sounded as if he was begging Sheppard to stop.
She came to an abrupt halt, taking in the scene before her. Major Sheppard was doggedly hurling himself at the bars of the cell, a look of desperation on his face. A second later, and Beckett had come to a skidding stop beside her, having called at the infirmary on the way over to collect his emergency kit. He was accompanied by Teyla and a med team. Sheppard was muttering incoherently to himself.
"Bloody hell," murmured Beckett. "He shouldn't be able to stand up let alone hurl himself around like that, the state he's in." he moved closer to the bars, Elizabeth right behind him.
"Major!" he rapped out sharply. "What do you think you're doing?"
The peremptory tone of his voice brought Sheppard out of his fugue. "Huh?" he asked, vague.
Beckett took in the state of the man in front of him. "Ah said, what do you think you're doing? You should be resting."
"I have to get out, they want me out. Please, Doc, don't let me…" he paled as a spike of pain drove through his head. He shifted restlessly, poised as if to flee. "They want… they want... I don't know what they WANT!.." He began pacing again.
"Who? Who wants something?" from Elizabeth.
"I don't know…the voices, the voices in my head…they keep whispering, they don't stop." He looked at Beckett, almost pleading. "You can make them stop doc, please…" He began the pacing again, but at least he wasn't throwing himself at the bars any more.
Beckett turned to Elizabeth who was looking on, horrified.
"I'm going to have to sedate him. He canna carry on like this, but I'll have to get in there to do it. Just give me a minute to prepare what I need."
Weir nodded, her gaze fixed on the man moving raggedly around the cell. "Whatever you need. Do it."
Teyla moved to the bars, distressed at seeing the Major the way he was.
"Major Sheppard?" she asked.
"Teyla?" he looked at her vaguely.
"Major, you must stop."
"Can't. If I stop, it gets louder."
"What gets louder?"
"The whispering, and if I ignore it, it hurts, I don't want it to hurt anymore." He pressed his hands to his head again, wincing. "I can't let them win."
"Who is it, Major? Who is doing this?"
"I…don't know…" he stopped., his voice getting quieter, almost back to muttering. "The whispering," he said conspiratorially, "It doesn't stop, please, make it stop, they're getting louder., I can't think straight, I need to be able to think…"
By this time, Beckett had loaded his syringe, and was ready at the entrance. Ford opened the door. Sheppard's head swung up sharply.
"What are you doing?" there was real fear in is voice. "Don't open it! If you open that door, I won't be able to help myself!"
"It's ok, John," said Beckett soothingly. "Ford's just letting me in to help you. He'll stay right there outside the door. You won't be able to go anywhere."
"Don't!" Sheppard was almost pleading.
Beckett nodded at Ford who started to open the cell. With a strangled cry, Sheppard tried to get out. Sheppard was working on adrenalin and desperation, while Ford was afraid of hurting his CO further. The Major was winning by dint of repeatedly pushing against the lieutenant and for a few comedic moments there was chaos as Beckett tried to get in, Ford tried to hold Sheppard back, and Sheppard fought to get out. Then there was a high- pitched whine, a bright blue flash, and Sheppard dropped.
Beckett whirled to see Teyla standing with a Wraith stunner held up. She met his shocked gaze squarely. "Someone had to stop him," she said, "Before he caused himself more harm."
Swallowing, Beckett reminded himself never to get on Teyla's bad side. "Right," he said. Help me to get him to the infirmary."
TBC