A/N: There is a reference to the episode, "38 Minutes" in this part of the story!
"It sounds barbaric," Elizabeth stated. Everything about her body language screamed that she was affronted by the suggestion Carson had made. She looked towards Rodney and was dismayed to see him slouched in his regular conference room chair with his head in his hands.
"Aye," Carson said, reluctantly. "On many levels it is barbaric. I'd never normally make the suggestion, but I dinna believe we have a choice."
Elizabeth's lips pressed tightly together, and she seemed to remain unconvinced.
"Oh for god's sake!" Rodney snapped, impatiently. He lifted his head out of his hands, and Elizabeth was alarmed by the naked agony she saw in his eyes. "It's not as if we're trying to kill him like we did when the Wraith tic had its hold on him," he said harshly. He noticed both Carson and Weir flinching involuntarily at that memory, and he settled his head back into his hands. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled but no less bitter. "It's just that you agreed to killing him in order to get the Wraith tic off of him. I just don't see how this is any worse."
Silently, Elizabeth agreed, but she could not help but be repulsed by their suggested course of action.
"There's no other way, Carson?" she asked him in one last attempt to encourage them to come up with a different idea. She heard Rodney's frustrated growl at her question and noted that his hands had clenched around his head, but she ignored his outburst.
"Elizabeth, I wouldn't be proposin' this plan if I dinna have the idea it would work. The anti-psychotics are just not stabilizing him anymore, and I dinna know how much longer his body is goin' to be able to handle the neurological distress. And even though it's true that the procedure hasn't been used in quite some time, it has been proven to be quite successful for dealing with psychiatric conditions in the past," Carson supplied in an attempt to soothe Elizabeth's doubts.
"But we're not talking about a psychiatric condition," Elizabeth persisted.
"No, no we're not. But in the past the procedure has been used to, well, basically restart the brain. That's exactly what we're plannin' on doin' for Colonel Sheppard. Elizabeth, he just can't remain the way he is. And ye know that. Colonel Sheppard would rather die than spend the remainda of his life in a…as a…." Carson faltered over his next words.
"Psychotic gork?" McKay offered, acrimoniously.
Beckett glared at the physicist, but his gaze softened when Rodney lifted his head from his hands again, allowing Carson to see just how tired, defeated and remorseful the man's pained expression was.
"I was goin' to say in a vegetative state, Rodney," Carson said softly.
"Ah. Well. Yes," Rodney muttered, obviously upset.
Watching the agonizing interaction between the two men, Elizabeth suddenly realized that if there were any other choices for them, they would have suggested them first. The course of action that both scientists approved of was desperate simply because the situation was desperate.
"Okay," she said firmly. She smiled briefly when she saw Carson relax and slump into his seat. The doctor had been bristling with assertiveness only moments before when protecting his patient with a bulldog's stubbornness. His deflation was telling of the fact that he truly did not want to subject John to the treatment that he had suggested.
"The medications should be able to maintain the Colonel's consciousness long enough for me to explain the situation to him. I wouldn't want to perform this procedure without giving him some information first," Carson said, and Elizabeth suddenly understood why both men had insisted on an immediate decision.
"Alright," Elizabeth said. "Just let me know if you need anything."
Both Carson and Weir startled when Rodney gave a brief, sarcastic bark of laughter. He muttered something just under his breath, but Elizabeth thought she made out the painful words.
"A miracle would be nice."
888
Watching the sleeping figure of Colonel Sheppard, Carson thought on the conversation he and Rodney had had with Weir and sighed heavily. John looked wasted and ill, and Carson just did not want to wake him to discuss the contentious treatment.
He took a deep, steadying breath, and then reached over to gently shake the Colonel awake. He didn't dare wait until Sheppard woke on his own for fear that the efficacy of the anti-psychotics would wane before he had a chance to have this dreaded discussion with his patient.
Sheppard didn't immediately respond to the attempts to wake him until Carson shook the man's shoulder more insistently. Then John's eyes began blinking slowly, and Beckett gave him some time to gain his bearings before initiating a conversation.
"How are ye feelin', Colonel?"
"Mmmm…tired," John reported wearily. He closed his eyes, but Beckett shook his shoulder again to keep him conscious.
"Ye need to stay awake fer a bit," Carson said apologetically when John opened his eyes again.
"'Kay," Sheppard responded agreeably while blearily attempting to maintain eye contact with the doctor. "What's…goin' on?" he asked. John's eyes closed again, and Beckett realized that the man was experiencing pain.
"What's hurtin' ye, Colonel?" Carson asked, immediately alarmed. There was only a limited number of pain-relievers that Sheppard could tolerate in combination with the high dose of anti-psychotic that he was on, but if the man was experiencing pain Carson wanted to relieve it as best as possible.
"Head," John replied on the exhalation of a breath. He closed his eyes and pressed his head further into the pillow in an attempt to remove himself from the pain.
Carson immediately dimmed the lights and placed a warm compress on the Colonel's forehead. He then obtained a syringe, filled it with the appropriate medicine and injected the contents into John's I.V. port. He monitored his patient's vital signs until the man's breathing eased and he visibly relaxed.
"Better?" Beckett asked.
"Better," John breathed. He opened his eyes and Beckett saw gratitude and relief there.
"Do ye feel well enough to have a little talk with me, Colonel?"
"Sure. What's goin' on?" Sheppard repeated his previous question.
"Well," Carson began reluctantly. "Well, Rodney and I have an idea about how to treat this."
Now that the pain had retreated, Sheppard's gaze had become clear and perceptive. Carson shifted uncomfortably under the force of the almost calculating look he was receiving from the Colonel.
"Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like this?" he asked sharply.
"Probably because ye won't," Carson answered shakily and smiled gently before pressing on. "Colonel, I want to initiate a grand mal seizure within your brain while you're in an insulin induced coma," he said bluntly and waited apprehensively for Sheppard's response.
Sheppard closed his eyes and seemed to be processing the information. When he returned his gaze to Beckett he did not look happy.
"And how exactly do you mean to do this?" he asked.
"Well, the plan is to inject you intramuscularly with insulin. You'll experience loss of consciousness thereafter, followed by coma. While in the coma, we'll electrically generate a grand mal seizure within your brain. Afterwards, you'll be given a glucose solution by gavage that will cause you to regain consciousness," Carson said.
"Electroshock?" John asked, astonished. "Just how crazy am I, Doc?"
Carson vigorously shook his head in negation as he continued to watch his patient closely. "This is not a psychiatric condition, Colonel. It's an organic one. But some organic conditions respond to psychiatric treatments, and considerin' the cause and the nature of yer illness, Rodney and I think that this procedure has the highest probability for a successful outcome."
Sheppard didn't seem entirely convinced.
"What's with the insulin treatment?"
Carson sighed. Insulin coma had not been a therapy he had wanted to perform on the Colonel. It was a primitive treatment, but given Sheppard's resistance to the anti-psychotics and the inability of his brain to reset even after several grand mal seizures, Carson didn't feel as if he had a choice in the matter.
"Colonel, it is no longer possible to perform the reset of yer brain by simply inducing' a seizure. If that were the case, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Sheppard appeared to mull over the doctor's words, and then realization settled heavily into his face. "The spontaneous seizures would have fixed me," he said, unhappily.
"Aye, Colonel. Insulin Coma Treatment was used in the '50's to treat psychiatric conditions, and it met with great success. It actually wasn't until Electro Convulsive Therapy became more common that the insulin treatment went by the wayside. I think that the shock to yer brain that the insulin will cause combined with the electrically produced seizure have a high chance for success."
Sheppard's eyes narrowed in consideration, and Carson knew that the man was perceptive enough to realize that he had offered no guarantees. Carson could not blame John for being less than pleased with the course of action he had suggested. The procedures were brutal and generally intended for deeply disturbed individuals for whom pharmaceutical treatment was ineffective. To subject a psychiatrically healthy individual to them was controversial at best, and Beckett was far from satisfied by the direction he had been forced to take.
"When?" Sheppard asked. His voice was pained and he seemed to be struggling with some inner emotion that Carson could not quite define.
"Tomorrow morning, if you agree," Beckett informed.
"Fine," John said through a jaw clenched by the strong, depressive emotion he was feeling. "I'm tired. Can I sleep now?"
Carson wanted to respond to the bleak nature of the normally jovial Colonel's voice, but there was really nothing he could say to ease the man's dark mood. Instead he patted John's shoulder in a meager offer of comfort and pulled the now-cooled compress from Sheppard's forehead.
"Aye, I think that's a good idea," he said kindly.
John closed his eyes.