AN: Dr. Dredd, yes, shades of 'the best intentions' are definitely here, the only problem is poor Dreya was only looking out for herself, but don't we all tend to do that from time to time? Loved your fic on the emotional toll to Beckett! Titan, hopefully we won't start boring people, but we don't want to speed through it and lose out on all those fun moments along the way. And, of course, the whumping opportunities! (evil grin) Harper's pixie, no! We couldn't do that, because then it'd be over and, well, then...it'd be over! For everyone thanks for the reviews. You've fed the bunny so much it won't let the story be!
Not the Daddy…part 13
Pregnancy Clock: 4 months 2 weeks
"John! What's wrong?"
Dreya was grabbing his arm, trying to help him from falling hard, but it didn't help much. The reason was the pain. It was curling him up like a snapped rubber band on the rebound.
"Not the baby?" he gasped in between moments of pain.
She shook her head looking very frightened. "I don't think so. I feel fine."
Sheppard felt anything else but fine, and if it wasn't the baby, then what the heck was it? "Get McKay," he managed to say. He knew Rodney would get him back to Atlantis, and Beckett.
"I can't leave you here alone," she protested.
He chuckled harshly before saying, "You can't carry me, and I don't think I can walk."
It was sharp, and strong, and right below his belly button. The queasiness he'd felt when they'd arrived on Eradia was back with a vengeance, and he imagined he looked worse than he felt.
She hesitated, but when John let loose a groan of pain, she took off back the way they'd came. Sheppard tried to sit up, and found that if he sat with his back against a tree that he'd collapsed near, and folded his body over his knees, it was almost bearable.
Time seems to pass slowly when you're hurting, and he would've swore it took McKay an hour or longer, but at last Rodney and Ronon came jogging up, with Teyla, Dreya, and Hamas right behind, hot on their heels.
"Sheppard?" Ronon didn't let much emotion show. He also didn't waste breath on unnecessary words.
"Something wrong with my stomach. Dreya says it's not the baby." He hated to be stuck down like this, but the thought of standing and straightening up sent shivers down his spine. He knew it'd hurt like hell.
McKay knelt on one side, while Ronon got on the other, and Rodney tried to straighten out John's legs.
The result was a sharp increase in the level of pain, and Sheppard yanking his legs back up, along with a shaky, "Don't do that again."
"That makes it worse?" asked Rodney, alarmed.
"You can say that," replied Sheppard, still trying to get his bearings from it.
Teyla and Dreya had knelt beside them, and Sheppard was beginning to feel slightly claustrophobic.
"Do you know what ails Colonel Sheppard?" Teyla addressed McKay.
Hamas was hanging back, but he spoke up, "Should we call for the midwife?"
"I don't need the midwife!" snapped John.
"He doesn't need the midwife," echoed Rodney simultaneously.
"Then what?" Hamas asked.
"He needs Beckett," said Ronon, reaching for John's armpit and gesturing for McKay to grab him on the other side. "It's not the baby causing this."
John managed to follow McKay and Ronon's movement upwards, with their help, but he didn't straighten fully, instead he found a position, bending at the waist, and hunched over. The ridiculous part of it all was that he stopped hunching at an imaginary point where there should've been belly because his mind thought he had a bigger stomach then he did, because of the baby. As it was, he felt the pain from whatever was going on, and the discomfort from folding around a bump that wasn't there.
"Let's get you to Carson," muttered McKay.
John winced from the pain of moving forward, but admitted, "This time I'm not going to complain."
Teyla asked Dreya, "Do you wish to return with us?"
John was too busy looking down at his feet, so he didn't see the torn look on her face, but her heard the uncertainty in her answer.
"I think…maybe…I'll remain here…for now."
Sheppard watched as Hamas' booted feet moved near Dreya's. "You will let us know of his condition?"
John thought that the man might actually be concerned for him, and not just because of his connection to Dreya. It was good to know that at least they saw him as more than just a by-product of Dreya's rash decision, and didn't want him dead or anything. Or, maybe they just didn't want to be bonded to her, knowing how rough it'd been on him. Not many people would jump in line to take over when you've seen how miserable it can be.
Not that they'd seen it, but because of his teams' return trips to the planet, they knew it wasn't exactly a cakewalk being Dreya's bondmate. In fact, he wondered how easy it'd be for her to get someone to do this again if she ever remarried. Scary. But it wouldn't be him, that much he knew.
And then Ronon forced him forward, and the second his foot came down on the ground, the pain jarred up through his toes all the way to his throat as he bit back a yelp from the hurt it caused. This was going to be a long walk back to the Jumper.
OoO
By the time they were met in the landing bay by Beckett and his goons, Sheppard had never been so happy to see the doc. They wheeled the gurney up the rear hatch, and amidst a lot of grunts from the pain, John found himself on his side – they'd tried to get him to lay flat, but a fast scream from the pain that caused ended the attempt, and they let him curl on his side – and then he was rushed down the halls of Atlantis.
He screwed his eyes shut, and not from the pain, but from the staring eyes from the personnel in the corridors. He was aware that McKay was striding behind the bed, just as he knew Teyla and Ronon had split off to brief Elizabeth over the situation.
When Teyla had contacted Weir and explained they were returning with a medical emergency, Elizabeth had breathed one word over the radio. John. Then she'd said 'understood' and cut the connection.
"Hanging in there, Colonel?"
Beckett's reassuring brogue gave as much comfort as the pain medicine that was already filtering through the IV line they'd hooked up before moving him.
"Like a piton, Doc," gritted Sheppard, letting his eyes slide open slightly.
"That's good to hear, son." Beckett pushed on the corner of the gurney, just shy of Sheppard's head, and he felt them round the bend and heard the woosh of the infirmary doors. The air rushing out of the room blew against his face, and it felt like heaven. The struggle against the pain was causing him to sweat.
He was turned, and the gurney pushed against the wall, head first. Beckett ordered the techs to get a CBC and blood gas, and even while doing that nurses stepped forward and started tugging at his clothing, which wasn't easy considering Sheppard was refusing to unfurl from his position.
"Colonel, I know this'll hurt, but we've got to get you out of those clothes." Beckett spoke sympathetically but with authority. This was his domain, something Sheppard had learned a long time ago.
Reluctantly, he straightened his limbs and fought against the pain it caused. "Hurry," he hissed.
"Carson," Rodney said edging in between personnel, "Check his appendix. My sister had it when I was twelve, and she had the same exact symptoms."
Beckett paused a beat, with the stethoscope almost up to his ears, and smirked at McKay. "Rodney, would you like to take over?"
"No, Rodney would not like to take over," retorted McKay. "But Rodney has a very high intelligence, and wants to make sure his friend isn't killed by incompetence."
"Hey Cagney and Lacey," wheezed Sheppard. "If you could stop bickering and handle my - sonofabitch, that hurts," another sharp pain interrupted him.
"Sorry," instantly contrite, McKay leaned in towards John. "What can I do? There's got to be something I can do?"
John reached up and latched on to Rodney's jacket, pulling him in close, and said raggedly, "Go – away."
Rodney stepped back indignantly. "Sure, I see how it is. You only want me around to feed you. When you're in pain, you want Beckett." McKay glanced at the doctor who was trying to ignore him and continued to work on assessing Sheppard, "He's all yours, Carson. If he doesn't want me around through thick and thin, fine. Find some other sucker to be your labor coach, Colonel! Suddenly I have a craving for some blue Jell-O. Better get some while there's any left, I heard there was a shortage due to a certain individual's overeating his fair share…"
McKay stormed out of the infirmary.
Sheppard groaned, and this time it wasn't from the awful pain in his stomach. "He's got PMS, Doc. You've got to give him something for it, seriously."
Beckett rolled his eyes, and accepted a report on John's blood results from a lab tech that had entered at a run. "You're pregnant, he's got PMS, has there been a sex change virus that I'm not aware of, Colonel?"
Beckett pushed carefully on John's lower right quadrant, and pulled away, causing him to shout loudly, and try to pull his legs up.
"Ow!" John yelped.
The Doctor nodded sagely, and pulled the scrub top they'd finagled him into down, and the sheet up. "Appendicitis. Looks like you're going to have a wee bit of surgery in your future, Colonel."
"Appendicitis," repeated Sheppard. "McKay was right?" He almost felt guilty. Almost.
"Looks like it." Beckett scribbled some notes in his chart and handed it to the nurse, ordering as he did so, "Get Doctor Bailey, I want a back-up during the procedure in case there are any complications."
Sheppard suddenly really did wish Rodney was still here. "It won't hurt the baby, right? I know you said it was one-way, but you sure?"
He hurt so much he felt like his stomach had been tenderized, but the thought of it hurting the baby – well, it isn't like there was much of a choice, anyway.
"I'm sure, Colonel. We checked in on her when you were shot and neither one had so much as a twinge."
Well, he'd had more than a twinge from that, so maybe Beckett was right. Sheppard tried to take a steadying breath, but the combination of pain and the drugs they'd given him had taken their toll, and he was growing sleepy. "Tell Rodney I'm sorry," he slurred drowsily.
Beckett patted his leg through the blanket. "Aye, rest, son. The surgery will be soon and when you wake, it'll be a distant memory. I promise."
"If you can include the pregnancy, it's a deal," he mumbled through uncooperative lips.
The last thing he remembered was seeing Beckett's mouth twitch into an amused grin and say, "Not part of the deal, Colonel." And then he was slipping into a dreamless drugged slumber, where the pain didn't reach.
OoO
When he next woke up, he was relieved that Beckett's promise was good. He could feel that he was pretty doped up, but the thick padding of bandages was proof that he'd undergone an appendectomy. He felt a little fuzzy, and a lot tired, but overall, not bad. But, he was alone. And he kind of wished he wasn't. He'd spent so much time in the last month running away from everyone, that suddenly, no one was here, and he needed company.
He didn't last long before sleep reclaimed him, and the next time he woke, the chair beside him was occupied.
Elizabeth noticed the eyes staring at her, and smiled warmly. "John, you're awake. How do you feel?"
Sheppard had a rippling in his belly, and winced because it had the odd splintering effect of rubbing against his incision site. "Okay," he answered quickly, when the smile had slipped with his pause and reaction to the baby's movement. "Just sore," he assured her.
"Carson said you'll be feeling it for a while, but you should recover, if you take care of yourself," she admonished.
"Kind of hard not to when you've got an entire city hounding you to drink your milk," he said wryly.
"Maybe not the entire city -."
"Elizabeth," he interrupted. "Do you know what Kavanagh gave me last week?"
She rolled her eyes. "I couldn't even begin to guess."
"Two bottles of vitamin mixtures. He told me one was to help with stretch marks, while the other would be far better than the iron and vitamin supplements that Beckett had given me, and all with that insufferable superior attitude."
Elizabeth fought not to laugh. "Really?"
"It's not funny!" Sheppard growled, and then coughed, and almost cried when the cough caused his stomach to hurt.
"I'm sorry," she said, trying to appear contrite.
He pushed against the bandage and said, "No, you're not."
The easy grin was back. "No, not really," she admitted. "It's Kavanagh we're talking about, after all."
"Exactly," he said.
Sheppard was overcome by a large yawn right after, and managed to yawn while holding a hand against his wound. This was going to get old fast. And the worst part of it, was that the incision felt stretched over a belly he didn't have. Conflicting input from his mind was making him feel queasy again.
Elizabeth stood. "I'm going to let you get some rest, John. Let me know if you need anything, all right?"
"How about an acme bond remover?"
"Sorry," she laughed, "Out of stock. I can send a message to Colonel Caldwell asking for him to bring one back?"
"No, no," he said so fast it made his head spin. He knew Caldwell was going to be returning soon, "I'll just have McKay whip one up for me."
"When he's talking to me again," he added under his breath.
Elizabeth's mouth twitched, but she didn't reply to that last bit he'd said out loud and not entirely meant to. "Rest, John."
He got the point. Coddled, again. "Sure," he agreed, sliding back down gingerly, and moving his head about trying to get the pillow comfortable. "Thanks for the visit," he added sincerely as she walked away.
"You're welcome."
After she left, he thought about crazy coyotes running off cliffs and into rock walls until he did fall back asleep.
OoO
When he next woke up, he found a bowl of blue Jell-O and a note on the table by his bed. Sliding up gingerly to where he could reach and pull it over without yanking on his stitches, Sheppard unfolded the piece of paper.
I'm still your labor coach.
McKay
P.S., if you keep eating this stuff you're going to turn into a smurf.
Sheppard grinned, and tossed the note to the table, picking up the bowl and scarfing down the dessert. It was the only food that never made him sick. Some day, when this was over, he wouldn't ever eat blue Jell-O again, but for now, you do what you have to do.
He wasn't surprised when Carson popped in to check on his wound, and do a quick exam. When Beckett passed on a heartbeat check, Sheppard felt oddly deflated, but he kept it to himself.
"Another day, and we'll get you settled back in your quarters, but no sparring, or exercise of any kind, and you'll have to come back daily for wound checks for the next week. If everything heals well, the stitches should come out in about seven to ten days."
"Great," said Sheppard.
"Chin up, son. Look at it this way, better it happened now than later."
"Do you have any idea how weird it is to feel like your incision is stretched out, and kicked from the inside? How is this better?" Sheppard couldn't help arguing that point.
But Beckett hadn't lost sight of the big picture. "And you'd rather it hit while your out fighting the wraith?"
"No," he retorted crossly. "But it isn't like I'll have much opportunity for that any time soon." And now he just sounded petulant because really, who wants to fight the wraith? On any other day, he'd just as soon avoid them.
"And Elizabeth was only this morning telling me how well you've adjusted," muttered Beckett.
"Funny." Sheppard tried to roll away, but halfway there he was hit by a sharp shooting pain. "Ow ow ow," he chanted, trying to suck away the pain.
Carson was instantly back in doctor mode. "What is it, Colonel? You're incision site?"
He reached for Sheppard's shoulder and as he rolled the man back, John howled, and then stopped just as suddenly, rubbing just above his left hip.
"I don't know what the hell that was, but it hurt. And then, it was gone. What now?"
Beckett was gazing pensively, and asked, "Did it hurt only when you went to roll, and not before? Movement made it hurt a lot more?"
"You were right here - yes, and yes!"
"Seeing how it isn't on the right side, my guess is you just got a dose of round ligament pain."
Round ligament pain? "What the -," Sheppard bit back the swear word, and counted to ten before resuming, "what is it? Just, tell me what it is, so I can make sure to never do it again."
"The muscles that attach the uterus to the insides of a body -"
Beckett didn't get any farther, because Sheppard's eyes had widened in disgust. "I. Don't. Have. A. Uterus." He said with surgical precision. "What I have are –"
He lifted a hand and fisted it with frustration, "Manly parts. Are we perfectly clear, because the fact that you've been to medical school, I just assumed you knew that men don't have uteruses!" The calm precision was slipping into barely controlled hysteria.
Beckett regarded him coolly. "For the remaining four and a half months, you do, by proxy, have a uterus. And you might want to accept that, Colonel, or you'll suffer more bouts of this round ligament pain, and as you noticed, it can be quite painful."
Beckett left in a huff, and Sheppard replied loudly to his back. "I don't have a uterus!"
Alone again, he wanted to roll back on his side and sleep, but now he was afraid to go in any direction. One way would hurt his surgical site, the other would apparently piss off the phantom uterus. He felt the hate. Definitely felt the hate.
The end of…part 13