A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! I'd give you all chocolate if it were in my power to do so! I'm in a bit of a rush, so I'll keep this bitty note…well…bitty! Take care…Emrys
Early the next morning, an exhausted Carson Beckett was sitting at his desk when he saw Rodney enter the infirmary and head towards Sheppard's bed. At the sight of the obviously distraught physicist, Carson leapt to his feet and moved hurriedly to block Rodney's forward progression.
"Oh come on, Carson! I did what you said. I've had my nice five-hour nap, and now I want to go sit with him for a while," Rodney complained while scowling at the good-intentioned doctor.
Carson took a moment to eye the other man critically. Despite his claims, McKay looked too exhausted to have actually managed any real sleep, but Beckett decided to ignore the physicist's condition for now.
"Rodney…."
"No, now listen, Carson. You're being unreasonable. The equipment is set up, and I'll bring it over at 8:00 just like you asked. I just want a little time before…." Rodney's plaintive voice hushed and then faltered.
"Rodney," Carson began again in a soothing, dulcet tone that did nothing to forestall McKay's momentum.
"Just a few minutes before we have to do this…this…procedure. Please, Carson."
Beckett reached a hand out to grasp McKay's shoulder reassuringly.
"Aye, Rodney. That's fine. I just wanted to warn you that, well, some time during the night the anti-psychotics became inadequate to maintain Colonel Sheppard's lucidity."
Rodney's face slackened with disbelief.
"What? What are you talking about? He was fine last night. Okay, maybe he wasn't a stellar conversationalist, but given what he's going through one can hardly fault him for that!" Rodney exclaimed arrogantly and then rushed past Carson to catch a glimpse of his friend.
Sighing heavily, Carson followed in Rodney to the Colonel's bedside. Sheppard was lying with his head hanging laxly to one side, and with his eyelids half-closed over his again glassy, lifeless eyes. John's hollowed features and chalky, pale skin reflected the seriousness of his illness, and even Carson found himself stifling a reaction to Sheppard's increasingly weakened appearance.
"Bring him back," Rodney muttered in such a lost tone that Carson turned his slightly alarmed attention to him.
"I can't," he replied softly. "We've tried the highest dose of medication I dare give him, and he had no response to it."
Rodney staggered and then abruptly sat in the chair next to Sheppard's bed as if the weight of Carson's news was a tangible one that he was unable to bear.
"This is my fault," Rodney whispered quietly and then hid his broken expression in his hands.
"That's just not true, Rodney, and I'm sure that the Colonel would say the same thing if he were able to right now," Carson remonstrated the distressed man.
"Well he isn't able to right now, is he?" McKay replied, caustically. He bent his head lower to shield himself from the view of the sickness he believed he had wrought on his best friend. Fresh despair overwhelmed him, and he wondered how things could ever return to what passed as normal on Atlantis.
Observing the anguished posture that Rodney displayed, Carson knew that there were no words that he could say that would alleviate the man's misguided guilt. Instead he placed a hand on Rodney's shoulder and leaned down to offer him the only direction he could.
"Rodney, why don't you stay here and keep watch over the Colonel while I prepare my end of things? Keep him company for a wee bit, right?"
Rodney slowly lifted his head to study Beckett's face, but he saw no recrimination there. Pressing hands to tired eyes, the physicist attempted to compose himself while rapidly nodding in assent.
"Yes, yes of course," he said with a tinge of characteristic confidence that Beckett knew was entirely false.
"Good man," Carson said kindly and then left the area to prepare for the day's upcoming and unwelcome events.
888
"Rodney, why don't you go and wait with the others? I'm sure that Radek wouldn't mind lending a hand," Carson suggested. Beckett was concerned by the pinched and slightly nauseous look that emanated from the physicist every time he glanced in the direction of the electric generator that he had created for the purpose of inducing a seizure in Sheppard.
"I'm doing it," Rodney immediately responded in a quiet, slightly waspish tone.
"Rodney, this won't be pretty, and I know how close you are to the Colonel. I'm just trying to spare you some pain," Carson said gently.
"I'm well aware of the difficulties involved," Rodney snapped. "Let's just get on with it."
Carson studied the stubborn position of McKay's jaw, the straight-backed way he was carrying himself, and the resolution that burned deeply in the man's eyes. All were patent indicators of Rodney's determination to see this terrible thing through, and Beckett knew that any further suggestions that he made to the contrary would just be a waste of breath.
"Alright then, Rodney," Carson said and then gave his nurse a meaningful look. She handed the doctor a syringe filled with insulin and then double-checked the soft restraints that were holding Sheppard.
"Everything ready then?" Carson queried the nurse. She simply nodded and moved aside so that Beckett could administer the insulin into John's I.V. port. "It will be approximately two hours before he falls into a coma, Rodney," Carson instructed as he slowly depressed the plunger on the syringe in order to expel the drug. "Once he reaches a comatose state, we'll be able to electrically generate the seizure," Beckett worked steadily as he spoke, the only outward indication of his anxiety being the almost undetectable thickening of his brogue and a quickened tempo to his speech.
"Yes, yes, I know that," Rodney said dismissively. Contrary to Beckett's contained demeanor, Rodney appeared nervous and shaky as he watched the contents of the syringe plummet down the I.V. line. He impatiently shifted from one foot to another as he wiped beads of sweat from his brow with hands that were visibly shaking.
Beckett removed the now empty syringe from Sheppard's I.V. port and smiled kindly at Rodney. After discarding the syringe in a biohazard box, he walked up to McKay and again steered him to the ever-present chair that was at John's bedside.
"Why don't you try and relax for a bit, Rodney," Beckett suggested as he gently pushed the man into the chair. "We'll have a bit of a wait."
Rodney sat gratefully and then took a moment to study Beckett's face.
"How can you be so calm?" he asked the doctor irritably.
Carson barked out a short, bitter laugh before shrugging fatalistically. "Looks can be deceiving, Rodney. Make no mistake about it, I'm a wee bit twitchy," he said and then moved away to monitor his patient.
Rodney wiped his hand over his dissatisfied expression and settled in to wait until it was time to play his part in this awful drama
888
An hour and a forty-five minutes later, Rodney was positively overwrought. Beckett had explained to him in great detail the expected effects of the insulin treatment, but somehow talking about side effects was vastly different from watching Sheppard experience them. When Beckett had first dispensed the insulin to John, the sick man had still been in a catatonic state. But twenty minutes into the ordeal, he had begun muttering stuttered, incomprehensible words and fighting against the restraints that tied his arms, torso and legs. An hour into it, both the words and the fight dissipated to be replaced with sweating so profuse that McKay had started to become seriously concerned.
"Shouldn't we clean him up?" Rodney had asked Beckett in a voice that conveyed his anxieties.
"It's alright, Rodney," Beckett had assured while hastily replacing one of Sheppard's I.V. bags with fresh fluids. "It's a normal response to the level of insulin he's been given. And there's no sense cleaning him up, because he'll only continue to sweat through everything. It's better to wait until this is over."
Rodney had nodded, reassured by Beckett's apparent knowledge of the procedure. But now, as Sheppard's breathing became stertorous, and he began to show increasingly strong muscle spasms, Rodney's worry had risen again. He had not believed it was possible for his friend to look any sicker, but that fantasy had quickly been dispelled as John continued to spiral closer towards a comatose state.
Rodney sighed and shifted his attention to Carson in order to ascertain some understanding of John's condition from the doctor's body language. Beckett was tense as he leaned over his patient and monitored the man's depth of consciousness. When he finally straightened, Carson turned to Rodney who had continued to look on with expectant dread.
"Alright, Rodney. It's time. Why don't you get that thing charged up?" Beckett asked, grimly.
Rodney nodded, stood, and moved over towards the machine he had built. When he and Beckett had first begun tossing around the idea of electrically dosing Sheppard, it had become clear that neither physician nor physicist possessed the gear that would generate a charge safe enough for the procedure. Before traveling to Atlantis, Carson had never considered bringing the sort of equipment that their needs required, because he knew that he would be dealing with a crew that consisted of mentally stable stuff. His only recommendations had been to bring along a psychotherapist to deal with the cases of post-traumatic stress syndrome that would inevitably arise from their stressful circumstances, as well as a variety of pharmaceuticals….just in case. Never had he imagined that he would have to administer electro convulsive therapy to a patient.
And so Rodney had set about manipulating equipment that he had in his possession so that they would have an electrical source that could meet their necessary requirements. The machine had not taken as long to fashion as he had expected, and when he had finished, both he and Beckett had been satisfied with the results.
Now looking down at the ghastly device and knowing that he was about to use it to shock his best friend's brain, McKay could not help but feel sick at the sight of his invention. He knew that, given all of the unknowns surrounding Sheppard's condition, there was a decent chance that the side effects of the electro convulsive therapy could be debilitating. And McKay did not think that Sheppard would thank him for possibly causing, among other things, large chunks of memory to be erased.
But looking down at the man, Rodney knew that they had no choice but to follow through with their plan. There was no way that Sheppard would care to live life as a vegetable, and if losing a few bits of memory was the price to pay for bringing the man most of the way back to himself, Rodney was sure that John would happily fork over the brain cells.
Rodney's hands shook as he turned on the machine to allow it to charge. The thought of losing any part of his memory was so entirely repulsive to him, and he cast another desperate glance at Sheppard. What if there was some other way? What if they had misinterpreted the situation? What if he was about to cause more damage than he had already done?
Rodney did not think that he could handle any more guilt, and his thoughts were confirmed when another wave of remorse strongly washed over him and left him sickened in its wake. He found his hand wavering over the off toggle switch when Beckett beckoned him softly with his voice.
"Come on now, Rodney. There's no other choice," Carson insisted. He watched as Rodney struggled with his guilt and fear and forced his expression into one of confidence. It didn't matter that he also had his doubts about the procedure. Right now, he just wanted to reassure Rodney who had been wrangling with demons ever since this nightmare had begun. The man looked exhausted and wrung out, and he still had a long way to go before the end.
"Are you sure about that?" McKay asked in an awful voice that was so uncharacteristic of him. Beckett felt a rush of sympathy and pushed his own doubts and fears aside so that he could be of better use in alleviating some of Rodney's pain.
"Aye," he said, and the lie came easier than he had expected.
Rodney nodded and reached for the electrodes.