AN: Thank you Kylen, gaffer, shelly and Linzi. My wonderful betas, friends and support, because honestly, without them, this fic might have died a painful death. (yes, the 'I hate this fic' mantra was going strong in this chapter – but it's almost finished, one more to go)
Chapter Eleven
"Rodney, dial the alpha gate. It's time to go home," Sheppard ordered, and he tried to ignore the sudden rise of doubts. As he let Teyla lead him towards the gate, there were strong emotions roiling through John's gut; relief, strong relief, but also fear and a whole lot of anxiety. What waited beyond wasn't exactly bound to be a walk in the park.
It wasn't that he didn't want to see Elizabeth, and Carson, and all the others they'd missed – it was that he couldn't see. For two months, he'd been blind. Two months since he'd seen anyone's face, or a color other than black outlined in gray. Sometimes, he tried to picture their faces, and increasingly, the faces were blurring and becoming vague. He was losing the memory, and he was beginning to accept that he'd never see them again to renew it. And beyond that, what about their reactions when they realized that John was blind? He supposed, at the least, he'd be spared that.
The wormhole gushed out, and he was thankful for the sound to focus on. "Are we ready?" he asked.
Rodney was suddenly beside him. "I won't leave you," he said low. John felt his elbow taken by McKay's hand. "Carson can fix this."
"What if he can't?" John's voice strangled in his throat. Why did Rodney have to know what he was thinking?
"Then I still won't leave you. And we'll share a cabin back home on the Daedalus."
John snorted. "Over my dead body, you snore." After sharing a room for two months, he'd had enough snoring.
"I don't," Rodney replied, indignant. "Unlike some people."
"Please," John deadpanned. "You sound like a saw, and, you talk in your sleep."
"I don't," he denied again, but paused before asking uncertainly, "I talk in my sleep?"
John nodded sagely. "By the way, who's Sheila?"
"Sheila?" The feigned ignorance didn't fool anyone.
"Don't worry, you can tell me all about her if we do wind up on that flight home," John smirked. Setting the poking aside, he got what McKay meant, and he was touched. They weren't mushy types. Rodney's sarcasm protected him from the world, while John did the same with his laconic acceptance that lulled others into believing he didn't think about things too much.
"I will learn to wear these things called jeans," Teyla said from his other side. "And hear about Sheila, as well."
Sheppard tilted his head in her direction, confused. "What?" Was she trying to tell him what he thought she was trying to tell him?
"If you and Rodney must go to Earth, then I will, as well."
The edges of his lips curled because, yeah, she was saying what he thought she was saying. And it was saying a lot. Then Ronon's voice added, "I'm in. But I'm not wearing jeans."
Between imagining Ronon walking down Broadway, and Teyla leaving her people behind, John wasn't sure whether to laugh or shake his head. He was touched that his team had grown together like that, but he also knew it wasn't reality. They'd lived two months with only each other to rely on, and care for, but the galaxy waited through that wormhole. Teyla had her people to protect and consider, and Ronon had his revenge for the loss of his people. He and McKay would be the only ones returning to Earth if it came to it, yet it was amazing what those simple words meant to him. "What's a six letter word for appreciation?" he joked.
McKay snorted. "Child's play. Thanks. You should've used gratitude, more challenging." But the silence that followed– they got it. They all did. They weren't just a team anymore, they were a family. And families were willing to sacrifice for one another. He wasn't going to let them, but knowing they'd been willing was something he'd always have, whether his world stayed dark or not.
"Colonel?" called Groton. "The lift is descending. It's been recalled from below."
Sheppard knew that meant it was time to leave. No more putting it off. "Let's go," he ordered, and let Rodney pull him into the wormhole, and the future that waited.
OoO
When they got to the alpha site, John's team was greeted with a lot of laughter and shouts that quickly died down as John's blindness became apparent. He tried to blow it off, and joke that 'it was a small price to pay', but everyone knew it was a lie. It was a big price to pay.
The sergeant asked if John wanted to have Beckett come here, or if they wanted to gate straight away to Atlantis. It was a tempting offer – one he almost took the Sergeant up on, but in the end he'd settled for introducing Groton and Calicutt with a brief explanation of where they'd been.
The Nokomisians were still milling around the gate, when the sergeant dialed Atlantis, and sent through a message that some long lost friends were waiting to come through. John listened as Elizabeth's answer crackled over the radio, and he didn't imagine the hope in her voice as she said, "Send them home." Two months was a long time to be missing. John knew that even though they'd probably wanted to keep hope alive, it'd most likely dimmed as the days crawled into weeks, then months.
When he walked through on the other side, Rodney still clutching on to him, just feeling the air on his face, and hearing the sounds – the familiar smells…he felt such a rush. They were home. If he'd been able to see, he would've stared at the familiar sights. The gateroom, the stairs, command deck, and he would've drunk it all in like fine wine. There'd been days where none of them had believed they'd make it back. Dark days for everyone, and not just him.
Rodney's fingers tightened on his arm, and he knew people were arriving. He heard footsteps pounding down the stairs – most likely Elizabeth, and then from somewhere to his right, wheels and jogging feet coming towards them. Probably Carson and a medical team.
"John," Elizabeth's voice faltered from in front. "We thought we'd lost you all – what happened?"
He smiled briefly, but he couldn't track her, and the sounds – he was sure she was moving around, touching all four of them with her attention. "It's a long story."
"John?" This time it was a question, and he knew she'd picked up on his failure to follow.
"We suffered some -" he paused, the one to falter now. Injuries – it was too innocuous to describe what they'd been through. "It's a long story," he said instead of what he'd intended.
"Elizabeth -"
It was Carson, and in one word he conveyed his need – to get John's team to his infirmary, and assess the damage. John's blindness was blatant proof that they'd been through something, and after being underground for two months, they were probably all pale. Thin – not physically – emotionally. Not all damage was external, and John wasn't sure Beckett would be prepared to find it.
"Yes, of course," she said quickly. The reunion was awkward, and he regretted it. John should've had a team gate to the alpha site, but in his hurry to get it over with, he'd put them all on the spot.
"Doctor Weir, my people?" asked Teyla. McKay was still the only one holding on to him, but she was on his left – never far, and he could hear the tenseness.
"They're fine, Teyla. We will let them know you've returned. Halling was very worried – they all were," Elizabeth assured the Athosian.
Someone new reached for John's shoulder, and began to pull him forward and slightly to the right. It was funny how he'd learned to recognize the touch of his team, and that he knew right away it wasn't Ronon, McKay or Teyla.
"This way, Colonel Sheppard."
The brogue gave away the guiding hand as belonging to Beckett. There was a lump that suddenly grew up in John's throat. All those weeks of wanting to be back. To be in Carson's hands and find out if the damage was permanent – to be among friends whom he could trust to tell him the truth. The soft worry laced in their tones, the undercurrent of caring – "Thanks," he murmured, not trusting himself to say anything further.
When Carson tried to help him on to the gurney, he hesitated, and McKay was there. "He's blind, Carson, not lame, get your conditions straight."
"I know that, Rodney, I just thought it'd be -"
"Easier," finished John. "I know. But I can walk." He didn't mean to be difficult, or make Beckett feel awkward, but he'd done what he'd had to on Nokomis to make things easier. It was time to start facing the harder path.
"John…"
Elizabeth was trying to tell him that he should do as Beckett asked, but he needed to do this. "I'll be fine," John assured her. "Rodney?"
That's when McKay went to take his arm again, and the other apparent injury was noticed as Beckett stammered, "Rodney, your hand -"
Sheppard felt Rodney freeze, before quickly latching on to his arm. John leaned forward, towards Carson. "Not here, Doc." Too many eyes and ears, and McKay didn't need the entire city knowing about his condition right now.
There was a reluctant pause before Beckett agreed. Rodney's fingers squeezed imperceptibly and he whispered, "Nine letter word for thanks."
John smiled. "Gratitude. You always take the harder route."
"Nothing worth having is ever easy," rejoined McKay. "Cliché, but true."
At least some things never changed. He let Rodney set the pace to the infirmary. He matched strides and tried not to hesitate. It wasn't easy, but he got to the infirmary without flinching once.
Carson fussed over them, with as many exclamations as John could understand, as not. They related their injuries, taking turns, and everyone – even Teyla and Ronon – kept their explanations short and concise, and none of them elaborated.
As Beckett ordered tests, he grouched, "It's a miracle any of you are still alive." The CMO was tense, and frustrated, and Sheppard knew he felt guilty for not being there to help them. He continued and the tightness was in his words, "You'll all be staying the night, while we run a battery of exams to make sure injuries have healed properly."
Insert permanently, John figured. Carson had grown quiet when Rodney's shaking was discussed. And the quietness had lasted into John's blindness. Later, when they were resting on their beds – or were supposed to be, McKay had left his and gone to John's, and they were playing chess – Rodney moving the pieces around and being Sheppard's eyes when he needed it, Beckett interrupted them.
The infirmary was noisy, and John had given up on trying to track who was where, and he really didn't feel the need for it here. But he'd heard Carson's footsteps before the soft brogue asked to speak with him privately. Rodney had protested from his position at the end of Sheppard's bed, where he sat on the other side of the chessboard.
"You can stop your guard dog activity, Rodney, I will not bite him," Beckett said, amused by McKay's tenacious clinging to John.
Rodney retorted drolly, "Very funny." But his tone suggested he'd relaxed as John slid off the bed. He let Carson guide him away from his bed and into a chair a little ways away.
Knowing what this was about, he asked, "Can you fix it?" And he wasn't talking about only himself. As much as he wanted to know, he didn't. Because if Beckett said no…
There was a silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity, until finally Carson sighed. "You don't give a man time to ease into things, do you, Colonel?" he chided. "But, as to your question, maybe."
John held his breath and repeated, "Maybe?"
"Aye, I don't want to get your hopes up, but there is one option for treatment."
"Surgery?" he questioned.
Another pause, and John felt tension clench his insides. Then Beckett clarified, "There are no surgical interventions to restore your sight, or fix Rodney's neurological damage."
Confusion drew his eyebrows together. "Then what? Ancients device you found? You said maybe -"
"Yes, I did," interrupted Beckett. "But you'll both have to return to Earth, and there's no guarantees."
Return to Earth. That was the source of hesitation on Beckett's part. Sending them back to Earth, and no guarantees, meant they might not get to ever come back. Once they were on the other side of the wormhole, they would be under the prerogative of the SGC. Elizabeth's purview didn't extend intergalactically. If their conditions didn't improve, there would be no coming back. No option of claiming asylum and staying on in an unofficial capacity. All the options he'd talked about with McKay would be out of their reach.
"Colonel -" Beckett started into the silence.
"That's asking a lot with no guarantees," Sheppard interrupted.
"It's the Tok'ra healing device," explained Carson. "It's healed a lot of things, but some of the more permanent injuries or even illnesses that are too far gone – it can't help. Maybe make things a little better, but not reverse. Brain tumors, extreme cases of radiation poisoning, it's not a miracle cure for everything, but it might work."
"And it might not," John added. But there were times where John could believe the risk was worth it, times like right now, when the frustration of everything he didn't know hit home. He knew that Carson was sitting across from him, but that's all he knew. He didn't know if Beckett was sitting in a chair, on a stool, on a bed – hell, he didn't even know for sure where he was in the infirmary.
He couldn't see who was around them, if the lights were turned up or down, and he hadn't asked what time it was. There were so many things you lost when you couldn't see. So many things you depend upon and never realize until they're gone.
"It's hope," Carson said. "I'm afraid it's all I have to give you both."
Sheppard nodded. "I'll tell McKay. We'll get back to you with what we decide."
There was more silence, and he wondered if Beckett had nodded in return, forgetting John couldn't see. Whether he did or not, Carson finally said, "I'll talk to Elizabeth. If you both agree, we'll send word on the next update to the SGC."
Before Beckett led him back, there was something else he needed to know. "Teyla and Ronon?"
John listened as Beckett shifted in his chair, it sounded like the doctor had crossed his legs. "They'll be okay, with therapy. Ronon's bone healed remarkably well, but there are pins that'll have to come out. Teyla's arm will need some physical therapy to regain full mobility."
So, some good news then. Good, bad, either way he'd got what he needed, and now John was ready to go back to his bed. He'd been prepared to hear the condition was irreversible. He'd been prepared to here there was a possible solution with surgery. There'd been a lot of things he'd been prepared for, but the one thing he hadn't been prepared for, was the one hope Beckett offered. And the hope was a two-edged sword. He felt emotionally wrung out – the tension of waiting, the unexpected promise of hope – the possibility of failure and being stuck on Earth with no way to return to Atlantis. Being back here was just as trying as he'd thought it'd be and maybe a little worse. But John also knew it was worth it. His life wasn't the only one on the line back in Nokomis.
He stood to return to his bed and Carson quickly latched a guiding hand on his arm and helped him over. When John was settled, Beckett's hand lingered an extra moment. "Colonel…John," he said gently. "We'll do everything we can, I promise."
"Thanks, Doc," he forced out. As Carson withdrew his hand, John had a spike of guilty relief when he heard the sounds of Beckett's feet fade. It was hard maintaining a façade around everyone else. He waited for McKay to talk, but all he heard was more silence. Frowning, he reached forward –
"You're back," Rodney said. But McKay wasn't in front of him anymore, sitting at the end of his bed where John had left him. He was somewhere to John's left.
"Where'd you go?" he asked, aborting his forward movement, and trying to act like he hadn't been physically searching the air for Rodney.
"The bathroom, I can give you a blow by blow account if you -"
"Shut up."
McKay climbed back onto the end of John's bed, trying not to upset the chess pieces, but the few clunks he heard told Sheppard he hadn't been successful. There were some mild jolts of the bed and then he heard Rodney putting the pieces back where they belonged. "Testy, aren't we? So, what'd he have to say?"
Rodney had tried to make himself sound casual, but John wasn't fooled. "We've got a choice. Back to Earth, and hope this healing device will work, or -"
"The Tok'ra healing device," breathed McKay. There was a sound of a hand slapping against skin. "How could I be so stupid!" Rodney exclaimed. "It's perfect. It'll work. And even better, I might get to see Sam – and get sympathy points."
Sheppard needed to know just how much faith McKay had that it would work. "You sure? Because if it doesn't – this becomes a one-way ticket."
How ironic. They'd left Earth prepared for the same possibility; that coming here to Atlantis was most likely a one-way trip. Now he viewed the familiar concept, this time in reverse, with almost the same level of apprehension.
"I have utmost confidence," Rodney claimed, then added "and if not, we'll get a bachelor pad and become slobs."
"I've seen your room," John said.
"Your point?"
John shrugged. "Just saying."
"Just say your next move," Rodney suggested like he knew very well what Sheppard's point was. The rest of the game occupied their time until Carson came and chased McKay back to his own bed, telling them they were keeping up the other patients. He hadn't even known there was anyone else other than his team in the infirmary.
Sleep was not easy in the coming that night, and John slept badly. Every time he woke up, the darkness reminded him of what waited. They'd told Carson they wanted to go back to Earth, and give the Tok'ra device a shot. John wasn't sure he would've agreed if it hadn't been for the fact that McKay needed it, as well. Rodney stood a better shot of being healed, his injuries were less severe. John knew his own odds were a lot longer, and he also knew there was a possibility that Rodney would be healed, and he wouldn't. Then he'd have to force McKay to go back on the Daedalus, and leave him behind. He also knew Rodney hadn't thought about that.
At some point in the early morning hours, John gave up on sleeping altogether. He knew he was the only one awake, aside from the few staff on the night shift. He kept his eyes shut and they left him alone. When he heard footsteps approaching, he thought it was a nurse coming again to do something inane like check his temperature. He'd already encountered it earlier. When she'd stuck the probe in his ear, John had pulled his head back and with a surly attitude, pointed out that he was blind, not sick. She'd taken it anyway.
"John?"
He opened his eyes and stared at the darkness. "Elizabeth."
There were sounds of a chair being pulled up, and he heard her settle in. "I thought you might be up all ready."
He offered the best smile he could, considering the circumstances, but it was probably not a great effort. His brain was running in overdrive, with all the worst-case scenarios. At least he wouldn't have to worry about money. He'd had his paychecks sent into investment accounts. Amazing what a year and a half of salary without any financial drain, plus hazardous duty pay, could do to your IRA.
She continued when he didn't respond. "We've contacted the SGC -"
"This early?" he interrupted. The scheduled check-in hadn't been until this afternoon.
"Yes," she replied, her voice warm. "I think for my chief military officer I could use my judgment on moving up the check-in time."
"You didn't have to," he protested. John was touched, but also…bothered. He knew that he and McKay, him more, were objects of water-cooler discussions and stares of pity – one reason he hadn't pushed to return to his quarters – but, having things changed because of his condition, even something so small as upping the time for calling the SGC, just…pushed a button in him, and left him feeling disgruntled. Plus, it meant she knew the SGC's reply already, and he hadn't been prepared to hear it so soon.
"You're nervous," she soothed. "I understand, but the request has been approved. As soon as you and Rodney are ready, you're free to leave."
"I'm pretty sure you can't understand," he replied dryly.
An awkward silence before she rushed into saying, "No, you're right. I can't. But I can imagine."
He almost said it wasn't good enough, but managed to rein himself back. He'd woken up grouchy, and angry at the world, because he was being forced into a decision that could end in the worst possible outcome he'd imagined all those long days before. He didn't want to live out the remainder of his life isolated on Earth. After all he'd seen and experienced, reduced to living a half-life from the life he'd had out here, it just wasn't good enough, no matter what he told himself.
But that was exactly what might happen. John kept thinking he'd have to find something new to focus on, to give him something to live for, but every time he tried to seriously consider what, he kept falling back to what he couldn't do. The one thing he'd spent his life hoping for, dreaming of, and finally getting. He was a pilot, and blind pilots didn't exist.
"I'm sorry, John. Sorry that this happened to you, and that the only hope we have to offer is just a possibility. I wanted you to know how much you meant to all of us before -"
"Before I leave and never come back," he finished bitterly.
She sighed, and he heard her stand up. "This isn't coming out right, is it?"
He jerked his head. "Your beside manner is still lousy." And damn it, it wasn't her fault, it was his. He drew a breath. "I'm sorry – it's just…when we were there, and working towards the goal of getting back home, it was something I didn't have to face like I do now. And I might walk through that gate, and never come back, and it pisses me off. I want to come back."
"I'm not going to let them keep you away," she said. "Is that what this is about? You think you won't be able to return if it doesn't work?"
He peered upward in the direction of her voice. Habit. Not that it made a difference, but it was habit, and a hard one to break, even when you can't see. "You can't control what they do on the other side of that wormhole."
"No, I can't," she admitted. "But I can control what happens on this side. I need your gene, John. We need that gene, that natural ability. It's why you came with us in the first place, and I won't let them forget that."
He wondered what she was getting at – did she have some ability to influence the decisions on the other side? He suspected that she'd had a hand in his promotion, and even his retention as the commander of the military contingent on Atlantis; but he also knew, she'd been there, on Earth, at the time both decisions had been made. They'd both been there, and he hadn't been blind back then, either. John didn't know what to say, and he'd clearly gone down a defeatist road this morning, so maybe it was best if he just said nothing at all. Whether she got that, or not, she left, and he tried to make some sense of the conflicting emotions running through his mind.
Slowly, the rest of the infirmary woke, and there was a daily routine of checking on patients, shift change, and cleaning. Carson released all four of them, and after John was dressed, he waited on his bed for McKay or someone from his team to come and get him. It wasn't arranged, just accepted. Still, they seemed to be taking their time, and by the time someone did arrive, John had to admit to a little bit of nervousness that they'd forgotten him.
It was Ronon that eventually came for him, and he helped John to his room to pack. Rodney was running some things by Zelenka that he'd wanted to make sure got done, and was going to meet them in the gateroom. Teyla was off doing something, according to Ronon. When John asked what that something was, Ronon grunted that he wasn't Teyla's keeper. He decided to let it drop. They all needed some space after spending two months together.
Ronon helped John pack up his things, and when John went to put some of the more important items in his bag, Ronon's firm grip stopped him. "You won't need that," the runner said, taking away his skate board.
"I like my skate board."
John heard the thunk as Ronon set it back down where it'd been on the floor. "It'll be waiting for you."
Fuck. Elizabeth must've gotten a hold of Ronon. He debated arguing it, but then figured what the hell. He'd spent the last two months trusting his team, and now maybe it was time to trust in Elizabeth, also. John asked Ronon to help identify the shirts and pants, and socks, and drew the line at underwear. When he was all packed, he let Ronon take his arm, but insisted on carrying his own bag. John would've paused to survey his room a final time before leaving, but he couldn't see. There were times when the blindness sucked more than others.
John couldn't help feeling like one of those men walking the line down to the electric chair. He could feel the heaviness around him, knew that the people they were passing in the hall were staring at him like that, with pity in their eyes and goodbyes in their faces. He was glad he couldn't see it.
"Colonel," greeted Elizabeth.
At the gate already. "Guess this is it," he said. "Rodney here?"
"Right behind you," McKay piped.
He didn't look, just nodded. "Let's get this show on the road," he said. On the other side of that gate waited a potential cure, or the realization that he was blind forever. He had to believe that Elizabeth would get him back to Atlantis, whichever way the chips fell.
The gate began dialing and John figured Elizabeth had nodded to the tech. The only thing that kept him from flinching when it kawhooshed out, was the fact that Ronon had a hand on his arm, and McKay was right behind. Still, it was unsettling knowing the wormhole initialized and if he'd been in the way of that first deadly wave outwards, he wouldn't have known.
"You have a go," she said. "I'll see you soon, and both of you, good luck."
John went to disengage from Ronon, but he started moving forward. "What are you doing?"
"Colonel, we all feel the need to be helped by this…healing device."
"Teyla?"
Elizabeth asked with feigned innocence, "Did I forget to tell you? Your entire team is going to undergo the healing device, and return on the Daedalus. Ronon will make sure no one misses the flight back, won't you, Ronon?" Her voice was deceptively mild, but it made John smile and shake his head. She was damn devious, when she wanted to be.
"I don't think you forgot," John replied. "But, thanks." She was sending a bodyguard to make sure Sheppard wasn't kept from the return flight.
"All this sappy sentimentalism is wonderful, and touching, and we could all sing Kumbaya, but they're waiting on the other end, and I'd hate to see them raise the iris before we finish our trip through." McKay stepped forward, and took John's other arm.
"I don't think they'd do that, Rodney." Beckett had arrived to see them off as well, apparently. "Good luck, and Colonel, whatever happens, we will see you soon."
"Thanks Doc, Elizabeth," he tugged his hand free from Rodney, and waved behind. Then turned forward again. "We ready?"
"Yes, Colonel."
"Guess so – as long as the food's good."
"Yes, yes, let's just go, Carter awaits my genius."
John shook his head ruefully. The SGC had absolutely no idea what was descending upon them.