Hi All!
Just another short section…it's all I had time to put together. I'm hoping to add more tomorrow, though!
Thanks for all of the reviews! Titan5, you know your stories are my inspiration for this fic, right?
Emrys
Iron String – Part 3
Rodney looked up from his laptop and studied John's face for any sign of awakening. By all accounts, the man had fallen into a peaceful and normal sleep hours before Rodney had been allowed admittance back into the infirmary by their over-protective Chief Medical Officer.
Rodney had been heartened to hear that Sheppard had been cognizant enough to recognize his surroundings and to interact with the people around him. After sitting in the bed beside the Colonel for two days, strapped up to his own EEG monitor, Rodney had become increasingly despairing of Sheppard ever regaining any part of himself. The endless hours of the Colonel staring vacuously into space followed by increasing muscle spasms and then the stomach churning, full-blown seizures had been enough to cause Rodney to wonder if the man he considered his best friend was beyond saving.
The chronic guilt he had been feeling ever since this debacle had begun became suddenly acute, and Rodney fought for composure. He retained no illusions about what and, more importantly, who had caused Sheppard's condition. McKay had been unable to stop berating himself and his impetuous, sanctimonious, know-it-all behavior ever since he had glimpsed the Colonel's EEG readings and recognized them as being identical to those that had been created while Sheppard was in the pod.
This illness and its end result, whatever that may be for John Sheppard, were entirely his fault, and nothing anyone said could ever pardon that so obvious fact. In fact, Rodney could not help but think that nothing would ever be the same for him again. If he could so easily place his best friend in such jeopardy as he had obliviously done with both the Ancient weapon that had devastated a solar system and then with the Aurora's virtual environment pods, then maybe he wasn't really the genius he thought he was. Maybe he needed to reconsider his position in Atlantis. Maybe….
"Rodney?" Sheppard's voice was little more than a croaked whisper, but McKay responded to it as if it were a bullhorn that had gone off directly behind him. Leaping to his feet, he shook off his thoughts and moved closer to John's side.
"Colonel! You're awake," Rodney's words were accompanied by an uneasy smile.
"Looks that way, I guess," Sheppard closed his eyes briefly and Rodney had a moment to observe the sick man's pallid features. Again, guilt flared violently within him as he realized that the appearance of tightness and fragility had overcome Sheppard's normally relaxed and strong features.
"Where's everybody?" John muttered and then opened his eyes wearily.
"It's…well, it's late," Rodney stammered as the guilt practically stole his breath from him. John studied him with a piercing gaze, and Rodney forced himself into some semblance of composure. "Beckett sent everyone away to get some rest. You know, I think that man has a Napoleon complex. I've never seen anyone throw around so many orders in one thickly accented barrage in all my life! I mean, he's even got you beat. The gall of the man! I think it comes from the knowledge that he's got all of the needles he needs to throw a coup that will shake the very foundations of the management infrastructure here in…."
"McKay, please! You're giving me a headache!" John begged. He squinted against the dim infirmary lights and made another examination of Rodney's face. "What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be sleeping too?"
"Well, that's gratitude for you!" Rodney snapped, unexpectedly. "Try to show some concern for a team-mate, for a fellow intergalactic explorer, and what does he do? He gets annoyed and sends you to your room. Next thing you know, I'll have my privileges taken away from me." Rodney's tone had turned acerbic, but Sheppard ignored it and instead continued to scrutinize his friend's face intently. "Like I said before, Colonel, I already have a mother," Rodney continued. "I don't need you telling me when I should be sleeping or eating for that matter. Beckett does enough of that already, and…just what in the hell are you looking at anyway?" Rodney's tirade became a sputter of indignant offense as he realized that Sheppard had continued to stare equably in response to the acidic words.
"Rodney," Sheppard said with a deep sigh, "what's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" McKay echoed bitterly. "Why nothing's wrong. Except for the fact that you're lying in a hospital bed with your brain slowly turning you into a psychotic gork, and it's all my fault."
Sheppard winced at both the implications of the words and the twisted hopelessness of the tone. A wave of dizziness assailed him, and he felt the blood rush from his face in response to the strong emotion that suddenly flared within.
"McKay…." He only wanted to verbally assault Rodney for being so unfair on entirely too many levels, but suddenly his headache reached a pinnacle. The strength of his response left him breathing heavily with the pain and struggling to regain control.
Rodney took one look at the trembling and wan figure before him, and all of his self-recrimination momentarily fled in the wake of the fear he felt.
"God. I'm going to get Beckett. Just…just stay there. Hang on, and I'll be right back," Rodney assured. But before he could even turn to leave, John had grabbed him by his wrist.
"Rodney, wait," Sheppard's breathy words halted Rodney in his tracks, and he found himself waiting in what felt like an eye of a storm while the sick man fought to compose himself.
"Sit down," Sheppard finally instructed when he got his breath back.
"Colonel, I really rather think the smart thing to do right now is to fetch Carson. He may be a quack, but he's the closest thing to a real doctor that we have here," Rodney said cavalierly in an attempt to deflect attention from himself.
"Jesus, McKay! Can't you just do as I say for once? Why do you always have to make things so difficult?"
Rodney stared momentarily at the tired man and then slumped with defeat into the chair. "Just my nature, I suppose," he answered dejectedly.
"It was a rhetorical question, Rodney," John ground out. Rodney slouched a bit further in the chair, and John let out a frustrated sigh. "Listen McKay, I'm only going to say this once. My condition is not your fault."
Rodney let out an incredulous bark and shook his head ruefully. "How can you say that?" he asked. "It was my idea to enter the pods. My idea to interact with the Aurora's crew. My assessment that the technology was safe. And now it turns out that the equipment was just as dangerous to you as that Ancient weapon that backfired oh so wonderfully due to my poor judgment. I let you down again, and now you're telling me that it wasn't my fault?"
"It was different this time, Rodney. This wasn't the same situation," Sheppard's voice was insistent.
"How? Tell me that, Colonel. How has this situation turned out any differently? Tell me that, and maybe I'll believe you when you say this wasn't my fault." Rodney's voice was tainted with anger, and he could barely bring himself to look at Sheppard.
"Rodney, it's different," Sheppard persisted. "It's dif…different be…cause…." McKay looked up with alarm as Sheppard's voice became dull and wasted.
"Colonel?" he asked as he studied his friend's face. Sheppard's eyelids had half-closed, and the little part of eye that could be observed under the heavy lashes was dull and lifeless.
Rodney shook the suddenly still man's shoulder and received no response for his efforts. "John?" he asked tensely and with increasing fear.
But John's brain had apparently rebelled against consciousness again, and as his heart settled into the slow but steady rhythm that indicated he had fallen into another stupor, Rodney rushed from the bedside and called frantically for Beckett.