The Day of Reckoning – Chapter 7

Sheppard had been dozing in and out most of the morning, exhausted by his midnight field trip. He listened to the sounds of the infirmary and the conversations around him, while his apparent unconsciousness left him pleasantly free from participating.

He heard quiet whispers and movement close to his bed; his curiosity got the best of him, and as he opened his eyes, he felt a hand on his arm.

"Time to wake up, Colonel. I've brought you some lunch." Sheppard looked up to see Beckett smiling down at him. "Let me help you sit up. Eat, and then we'll get you out of bed for a bit." Beckett raised the head of the bed and added a pillow behind Sheppard's back before rolling the table with the food tray over the bed and sitting down.

Sheppard picked up his fork without taking his eyes off Beckett. "So, you have guard duty now? I'd have thought the Chief Medical Officer would be exempt from babysitting."

"Is that what you think this is? Guard duty?"

Sheppard chewed thoughtfully for a minute, then asked, "If I ask you a question, will you give me an honest answer?"

Beckett frowned, concerned at Sheppard's serious tone. "Of course."

"Am I . . . am I really on suicide watch?"

"What?" Beckett's eyebrows shot up. "What makes you think that? If that blasted Courtney told you that—"

"I don't know who it was. I was dozing this morning and someone was talking outside the curtain. One of them said you guys thought I'd tried to kill myself and you had me on suicide watch." Sheppard paused, stabbed at his food with his fork, put it back down without eating it. "Is that why Kelly was here all morning?"

"Well, I don't know who would say such a thing, because that is not true. I had Kelly in here because you snuck out and tried to go on some crazy mission to get Kolya, and I spent too much time puttin' you back together for you to go getting' yourself all beat up again."

Sheppard finally turned his eyes from his tray to Beckett. "Look, Doc, the trip through the gate was not an act of suicide. It was more . . . an act of stupidity. I had some nightmares and I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Aye. No doubt from the stress of us badgering you about your captivity."

"So I wasn't on suicide watch?"

Beckett shook his head and sighed. "No, Colonel. That was not my intention at all . . ."

"But?"

Beckett hesitated. "I never thought you were trying to kill yourself, but Kate brought up the thought that . . . well, that maybe subconsciously you thought you deserved to die. Elizabeth and I don't really buy that either, but she said we should at least consider it."

"Subconscious death wish, huh? Never thought of that."

Beckett eyed him critically. "What do you think? Could that be possible?"

Sheppard fell silent for a moment, his eyes turned up to one side, and then frowned in confusion. "Wait a minute. If I subconsciously want to die, then I won't know I want to die because it's in my subconscious instead of my conscious mind and you don't really know what's going on in your subconscious mind, do you? Isn't that what makes it your subconscious? So how would I know?"

Beckett just stared at him.

"What did I just say?"

Beckett shook his head. "I have no idea. For a moment, I thought you were possessed by Rodney."

Sheppard threw a green bean at him. "You don't have to insult me."

"You keep throwing food in my infirmary and you'll wish that was all I was doin'."

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Kelly brought in Sheppard's breakfast tray and set it on the rolling table by the side of the bed. "I'll just leave this here, Colonel, and you can move it over when you're ready."

"Kelly, wait."

She stopped and turned to face Sheppard. "Yes, sir?"

Sheppard hesitated, but Kelly's soft, questioning expression eased his nerves. "I owe you an apology. I was a little on edge yesterday and I was rude. You were just doing your job. Anyway, I'm sorry I was such a jerk about it."

Kelly smiled. "It's no problem, Colonel. If you're in the infirmary, you're clearly not at your best. We always take that into consideration when patients give us a rough time. No harm done."

"Good." Sheppard offered her a crooked smile. "I wouldn't want you taking revenge with sharp pointy things."

"Well, I didn't say we don't occasionally take revenge."

Sheppard almost choked on his orange juice. He looked up to ask if she was serious, but she was gone. Beckett, however, was headed his way.

"Good morning, Colonel. How's breakfast?"

"Not sure. I haven't really eaten any of it yet. What's up?"

Beckett smiled knowingly. "I think I have some good news for you."

"I can always use some of that."

"You've made good progress the last few days, and I think we've established you aren't goin' to try to go through the gate again. I want to do one final check, but I think I'll be releasin' you later this mornin'."

Sheppard's eyes went wide. "Really?"

"I don't see why not, but I'll expect you to take it easy and rest. That means no stick fighting with Teyla or running with Ronon. And you'll have to continue your visits with Kate."

Sheppard frowned at the last statement. "Do I have to?" As soon as he said it, he realized how much like a whiny kid he sounded.

"Yes. I'm afraid she's not as impressed with your psychological progress as I am with your physical progress."

Sheppard shook his head. "I can't figure out what that woman wants. I sure wish someone would clue me in."

Beckett frowned at him, but his eyes were soft. "Son, the idea is not to tell her what you think she wants to hear. The idea is to be honest with her so that she can help you past this."

Sheppard frowned right back. "I don't need her help getting past this. I need her to stop trying to get into my head. I need all you to stop trying to get into my head. I can handle this my own way."

"That's not the point; you don't have to handle this by yourself. But if you do, you have to show her that you are doing just that. You need her clearance before you go back on duty, so you might as well cooperate."

"Yeah, I got it. Keep seeing the shrink."

Beckett sighed and watched Sheppard pick at his food. "Colonel—"

"I know," Sheppard interrupted. "Everyone just wants to help me. Well maybe I'm tired of being helped. Maybe I just need to do something on my own."

"Then perhaps that's what you should tell Dr. Heightmeyer."

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Sheppard stood at the threshold of his quarters, looking into the darkened room. After a minute, he edged in, his eyes wandering the perimeter. It felt strange, almost as if it wasn't his. But then, he hadn't been here in three weeks. Three very long weeks.

A different John Sheppard had left this room three weeks ago for a simple mission, and he was painfully aware that he had changed since in a lot of ways. Kolya had seen to that. His fists clenched and he gritted his teeth at the thought of the man, of what Kolya had done to him and taken from him; he stood unmoving in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do.

Outside. He felt a sudden need to get out of this room

Sheppard hurried to the nearest balcony, darted out the door, and into the wind. Standing at the rail, he relished the clean smell of the ocean air. It wasn't damp and earthy; it didn't stink of old sweat and blood or of disinfectant. It was simply the crispness of the ocean, and he breathed it in more deeply than he had in three weeks.

"Are you supposed to be out here?" Caught unaware, he jumped at the sound of the voice.

"Yes, McKay. Beckett released me a little while ago." Sheppard didn't turn, but he was aware of McKay moving to stand beside him.

"I asked if you're supposed to be out here?"

Sheppard sighed loudly. "He said not to stick fight with Teyla or run with Ronon. He didn't say anything about not going onto balconies."

"Okay." Rodney held his hands up in front of him. "Just checking."

They stood in silence for a few minutes, staring out at the ocean, until McKay looked over at Sheppard and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I will be."

McKay chewed on his lower lip as he considered Sheppard's answer. There was another long silence, another long glance out at the ocean. "Hey," McKay tried again, turning back to his friend, "you want to come down to the lab and turn stuff on?"

Sheppard laughed, feeling the tension dissolve at the innocence of McKay's question. McKay, however, scowled at him.

"You could have just said 'no.' You don't have to laugh at me."

"No, no, I'm not laughing at you, McKay. I'd love to go down to the lab with you."

"Really?" McKay's expression brightened. "Because I've got some neat new stuff you haven't seen yet. There's this one piece everyone else with the gene has tried, but no one can even get it to flicker. Of course, it may not be a gene problem; it could be a power problem. But if you could just . . ."

Sheppard smiled as he walked with McKay through the balcony doors and down the hall.

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Sheppard jerked up in bed. He sat panting in the dark, repeating over and over that it was just a dream. As his breathing slowed, he got out of bed and paced around the room, images of his captivity flashing in his mind. After several minutes, he realized that he was cold—his shirt had soaked with sweat. Maybe a shower would make him feel better.

Washed, changed, and too wound up to sleep, Sheppard opted to walk the halls. He wasn't sure where he went; he just walked until he was too tired to walk anymore. Returning to his room, he crawled back into bed, hoping he was exhausted enough to sleep.

He was exhausted enough. The problem was that every time he dozed off, he was in Kolya's hands again. After startling awake several times, he gave up and headed for the mess hall. He really needed a cup of coffee.

It was still early, so the mess hall was nearly deserted. He filled a cup with hot caffeine and sat down at a table with his back to the wall, watching and drinking as the room slowly began to fill.

"You're up early."

Sheppard's head snapped up. He must have dozed off. Nick Strauhan placed a tray on the table and sat down across from him. "Aren't you eating?"

Sheppard yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. I'll get a tray in a minute." When he dropped his hand, he found Nick watching him. Carson had trained him well.

"Exactly how long have you been here?"

Sheppard looked down at his arm, but he'd left his watch in his quarters. "I have no idea. A while."

"You didn't sleep last night, did you." One look at the puffiness and dark circles beneath the Colonel's eyes made the question redundant.

"I slept," Sheppard protested. "For a while."

"Nightmares?"

"Yeah. Very realistic ones." Sheppard fingered the edge of his empty cup. "You gonna turn me in?"

Nick sighed. "You need sleep. Maybe Carson could give you something."

Sheppard shook his head. "I can't keep depending on drugs to help me sleep. I'll work it out."

"If you have trouble tomorrow night, come down to the infirmary and see me. There are several options we can discuss. You can't do this every night, Colonel. And if you think Carson won't recognize signs of sleep deprivation, you're wrong."

"I know. I'll come talk to you if it happens again."

"Then I won't say anything for now. Oh, I thought you might be interested to know that Courtney has decided that she's not really suited to Atlantis. She'll be returning to earth on the next Daedalus run. Between now and then, Carson has her stocking shelves and cleaning bedpans."

Sheppard sat looking at the bottom of his empty cup. "I probably overreacted. It just caught me off guard."

"No. Don't even go there. The problem was her, not you, so don't try to take the blame. She has some major attitude problems and I don't think she's suited to the special needs of Atlantis." Nick sighed.

"What?"

"Kelly's been doing a happy dance all morning. I've had to threaten her several times to calm down and not be rude. She and Courtney don't exactly get along."

The edges of Sheppard's mouth began to turn up in a small smile. "Imagine that."

"Go get yourself some breakfast; you're going to need it."

Sheppard stood, then paused and turned back. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you. Have you asked Kelly out yet?"

Nick stopped chewing. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Doc, it's obvious you've got a crush on her. You should ask her out." Sheppard raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips, and nodded—it was his "trust me, I'm much too cool to be wrong about anything" face—then whispered, "I think she likes you too." Without giving Nick a chance to reply, he turned and headed toward the food line. But all Nick could do was stare. Had he really been that obvious?

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"You're late, Colonel," said Heightmeyer as Sheppard entered her office.

"Sorry," he mumbled, taking a seat in the chair in front of her desk.

"It's not a problem; just don't make it a habit. So, what would you like to talk about today?"

"Me? I was under the impression that you were the one that wanted to talk."

"Starting the evasive maneuvers early, I see. Okay, I'll pick the topic. Let's go back to when you decided to go after Kolya. Tell me what happened that night."

Sheppard had his right ankle propped on his left knee, and began to pick at the edge of his shoes. They were new and stiff—a daily reminder of where his old, comfortable shoes had been left.

"Colonel?"

Sheppard looked up, realizing that he had let his mind wander. He seemed to do that a lot lately. "Sorry. Just thinking about shoes."

Kate frowned, sensing this might be relevant. "What about shoes? Those look new. Are they?"

"Yeah. New and stiff. Funny how you miss shoes after you've broken them in just right and they feel good. I hate new shoes."

"Where are the old ones?" She knew, of course.

"I guess the Genii have them. They were gone when I woke up there. Wonder what size Kolya wears?"

Kate looked at him curiously. "Why? What are you thinking?'

"I threw up on his shoes. I just suddenly had this image of him wearing mine." Sheppard's gaze was distant. "I hope they give him blisters."

"Is that something you think of often, that you left your shoes behind?"

"Every step I take," he said quietly. "I left more than my shoes behind."

"What else?"

Sheppard suddenly realized that he had gotten caught up in the conversation and said more than he'd intended. "Shirt, weapons, and dang it, my best jacket."

Kate recognized the shift in tone—their productive time was over. The rest of the conversation would be filled with superficial answers and stall tactics. But she believed that if she whittled away long enough, she'd break through. Provided, of course, that she didn't lose her mind first.

TBC