SILENT SACRIFICE...part 19

By the time he was in scrubs and settled into bed, John knew he was in for a rough night. He lost the battle of keeping down the bile that was pooling in his throat and vomiting not only made his head throb, it made his gut twist into knots of pain. He was dimly aware of Nick's voice talking to him, but it sounded like gibberish. Then there was a pinch in his shoulder, then another in the back of one hand. Cool wetness smoothing over his face, and more voices that John recognized but didn't have the energy to respond too. Then he found himself drifting into warm darkness.

When he came awake it was to a gag reflex, but there was nothing in his stomach to bring up. Still, gagging and coughing made John's head ache and when Carson's familiar voice asked him to open his eyes, John had to pretty much will them open. "Hey, Doc," he croaked.

"How are you feeling, Colonel?" Carson queried, but it was plain by the look on his face that he already knew what the answer would be.

"Been better," John admitted, not wanting to disappoint the man. "How's Rodney and Zelenka?" He winced at how rough his voice sounded in his ears.

Carson was reaching for a cup of ice. He pushed one into John's mouth before reply. "They're both doing well. Wish I could say the same for you."

John couldn't have agreed more, he just didn't have the strength to say it. Instead he enjoyed the cool wetness of the ice chip melting down his throat, then he drifted off into darkness once more. But he faded in and out of awareness this time and the pain in his head and gut made it impossible to actually sleep. So after a time John gave up, shifting on the bed with the need to pee. He didn't have a catheter in yet, which he took as a good sign, so he was damned well going to make it to the bathroom under his own steam. "Doc!" he called out.

"Colonel!" Carson was by his side immediately. "What can I do for you? Are you in pain?"

"Need to pee," John replied.

Carson nodded. "I'll get a urinal."

John grabbed at his sleeve, pulling Carson back. "I want to use the bathroom." He locked eyes with Beckett, letting him see how important this was. He'd lost a lot of ground and he knew it, but he'd also gotten a reprieve, but it was a tentative one and John wasn't going to risk messing up what he knew would be his last chance.

A long moment passed as Carson considered, then he was nodding. "All right, but I'm getting a wheel chair." He shook a finger in John's face. "And no arguments from you or I'll put in a catheter."

"No arguments," John allowed. Only because he was pretty sure his legs wouldn't hold him right now. So he waited for Carson to arrive with the chair, then he let the good Doc help him to his feet. What sucked was the fact that John could barely balance his own weight and Beckett pretty much lifted him before setting him into the chair. It bothered him that Beckett could maneuver him about with such ease. John had a good four inches on him, but Beckett manhandled him about like he was a child. As he was wheeled across the room to the bathroom in the back, determination welled up inside of him. He was going to get better.

After taking care of business, which entailed Beckett pretty much supporting him, John was wheeled back to bed. Once he was settled in he looked at the Doc and said, "I'd like some broth."

Carson looked surprised. "Are you sure, lad?" He sounded hopeful though, when he asked.

"I'm sure," John said firmly. "I'm hungry." It was only a bit of a lie. He didn't want to eat but he knew the hollow feeling inside him was the hunger he had learned to ignore. Ignore to his detriment. It was a hurdle he was bound and determined to overcome. He just had to remind himself to be patient and take baby steps.

"All right then," Carson replied. "I'll send for the soup and if that stays down maybe we can try my goop."

John nodded, trying to ignore the way his stomach did flip flops at the thought of the fatty, gelatinous, vile-tasting concoction. But it had helped him before and he knew it was the one thing that was going to help him now. "Bring it on," he managed to blurt out, resisting the urge to clap a hand over his mouth.

Carson patted his shoulder. "We'll get you through the rough spots, Colonel," he promised, no doubt knowing exactly how John was feeling right now. "One day at a time."

"Sounds like a plan." John managed a weak smile. "I'll just take a little nap until the broth gets here." Even as he spoke he let his eyes drift closed and he didn't even feel himself drift off to sleep.

OoO

"How is John doing?" Elizabeth asked Carson, later that day.

"Better than I expected," Carson replied, looking relieved. "He was able to keep down a full cup of broth. Not all at once, but throughout the course of the day. And he managed a few swallows of my goop."

Elizabeth made a face. She had seen the goop and the smell alone turned her stomach. "Can we help him so Caldwell can't send him away again?"

Carson looked grave as he nodded. "I think we can," he allowed. "The Colonel has asked to talk to Kate, and I've set up a session for tomorrow. That's a big step towards his recovery right there."

"The nightmares are a big part of what's holding him back, aren't they?" Elizabeth asked. She had been in the infirmary during one of John's nightmares, a mild one compared to the one that had almost gotten him sent back to Earth. Mild, but terrifying to witness, none the less. She couldn't even imagine what it was like for John to experience it.

"I believe so," Carson said softly. "He was doing really well until the one we couldn't bring him back from. They're getting progressively worse and they are hindering the healing process. Every nightmare causing trauma to his body, and he doesn't have the reserves to fight back."

Elizabeth sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose against another tension headache. She felt Carson watching her and lifted her eyes to see concern in his. "I'm fine, nothing a dose of Tylenol won't fix. I'm just worried about John."

Carson nodded. "Aren't we all. But if anyone can fight their way back, it's the Colonel."

"I'm counting on that," Elizabeth confessed. "Can I see him later?"

"I'm sure he'd like the company," Carson said, a grin splitting his face. "Rodney and Zelenka are driving him a bit nuts with their bickering."

Elizabeth laughed at that, and it felt almost awkward to do so, like she hadn't laughed in a long time. It took her a moment to realize that was because she hadn't. A sad thought indeed. And one she shook aside to say, "Well, payback is a bitch, isn't it? John knows how to dish it out, guess now we'll see if he can take it." And her words held a double meaning. Only she knew he was tough enough to take anything, and that he would triumph once again. If only to throw it in Caldwell's face, and Elizabeth would be content to stand on the sidelines, cheering him on.

OoO

The first day of hell slid by slowly. The night being worse because it was filled with darkness and dreams. John had been grateful to Nick keeping watch over him, and grateful that the dream wasn't as intense as the last one. Nick was able to shake him out of it, but fear kept John from sleeping as well as he could and by 2am he was tired enough to give in and let Nick sedate him.

Come morning he felt a bit lethargic, but more rested than he had been in a while. He made the trip to the bathroom in the wheelchair again, just like every time the day before. But this time he was allowed to shower and change into his own sweat pants and a t-shirt, which cheered him up a lot more than he would have expected. Breakfast, however, was a bitch. More goop which nearly gagged him, then a slice of toast. Half a slice actually, and his stomach was not happy about it but John kept it down through sheer determination.

He then chatted with Rodney and Zelenka for a bit, trying to be happy for them when Beckett released them to their respective rooms. Their bickering made him want to bang his head against the wall at times, but at least it had relieved the boredom of his own company. Only before John could get bored today, Heightmeyer showed up.

"Hey," John offered in greeting, shifting about to get more comfortable. He felt at a disadvantage being in bed. It made him feel more vulnerable and he hated that feeling. So he was feeling a bit grumpy and irritable and he knew it was going to be an effort not to take it out on the Doc.

"Good morning, Colonel," Kate replied, as she pulled the privacy curtain around them. Not that it mattered since he was the only patient in the area at the moment. She then pulled a chair over to his bedside and settled herself in it. Smiling at him she asked, "How are you feeling today?"

John bit his tongue against blurting out a sarcastic retort. It was a reflexive reaction of late. Either that or Rodney was rubbing off on him. Sucking in a low breath and releasing it slowly, John replied with a neutral, "I'm fine, all things considered."

Kate studied him a moment, then nodded. "I think you're doing extremely well, given the circumstances."

"Is a pep talk part of my therapy?" John countered, wishing he could take the words back the moment they were out. But he didn't apologize for them. Not yet anyway. An hour was a long time to get through and they hadn't ticked off more than two minutes.

"It can be," Kate allowed, not looking the least bit ruffled by his attitude. In fact, her smile was still firmly in place. "Do you think it would help?"

John realized she was being sincere and he sighed a bit and ran a hand through his hair before replying. "Beats the hell out of me. I don't know what do anymore."

Kate looked intrigued. "Why don't we start there, Colonel."

"Meaning?" He shot back, because right now he was confused.

"You want to get better," Kate replied, and at his nod continued. "So what do you think is causing the roadblock to your recovery?"

John was pretty sure that was a trick question. One of those that didn't have an actual right answer, so he could play along with it for now. "My nightmares," he guessed. He figured it couldn't hurt to stick with the basic truth. It was the nightmares that were making it hard for him to sleep and without sleep his body was messed up which meant he couldn't eat and that meant he couldn't get stronger and heal the way he needed to heal.

Kate nodded. "What do you think is causing them?" she prompted.

"If I knew that I wouldn't be talking to you," John snapped back and instantly apologized. "Sorry, that was rude of me."

"I prefer to think of it as you being honest with me," Kate countered, an almost amused smile curving her mouth.

John sighed, absently rubbing at his stomach in an attempt to ease the familiar twist of pain that was making itself felt. But this time he knew the pain was more anxiety related than anything else. He didn't want to do this, but he knew he didn't have any other choice. "Call it being rudely honest then," he said, trying to force a smile when he didn't feel the slight bit amused by any of this.

Kate shifted forward in her chair, her eyes locked on John's face. "I know this is difficult for you, Colonel. And I'm not here to try and pry into your head or bulldoze my way through your privacy shields. I just want to help you find a way to deal with the trauma of what happened. You've had a lot of trauma to deal with and it's a given that you were going to have to face it at some point. It's been building up and creating its own wall for you to smack in too. To move on with your life, you have to puncture a hole in it so it shatters and you can step over the rubble and carry on."

"Nice visual," John replied, not wanting to deal with what she was saying until he had too. Which was now, but damn if he wasn't trying to figure out how to work the avoidance angle for all he was worth.

"If you're not ready to do this, then I can come back another time," Kate offered, rising from the chair.

John waved her back down. "No, it's pretty much now or never time, Doc. If I don't start now...I never will. Putting it off any longer isn't going to make it easier and I know that. In my head."

Kate sat back down and gave John a sympathetic look. "It's not easy opening up to strangers," she allowed. "But sometimes it helps in the sense that you're not emotionally invested in my opinion of you. So you can take what I say as gospel or garbage. Basically, I'm just here as a sounding board. You just tell me stories for the next hour if that helps."

"I suck at telling stories," John replied, not looking at her but staring down at his thin fingers as they idly plucked at the blankets covering him. She didn't reply to that, letting silence fall between them until John felt compelled to break it. When it was too quiet the demons in his head started screaming. "I don't know where to start," he confessed. "I don't know what's wrong so how can I talk about it?" He was starting to feel desperate.

"Start with your dreams," Kate interjected. "Tell me what you dream about."

John closed his eyes, not needing to think at all to remember. "Usually the Wraith," he replied. "They're always killing someone I know. Sumner, Ford, people here."

Kate shifted her chair a bit closer, the sound of chair legs scraping over the floor a bit loud and distracting. When John looked up she grimaced, mouthed an apology, then asked, "Do you dream about what happened in the cave?"

"Cutting to the chase?" John countered, feeling his chest tighten as panic fluttered up from deep inside him. He tried to censor his breathing to ease through the moment, hating the fact that Kate was watching him. But he had asked for her help and maybe this was something she could help him deal with. "I keep dreaming Ronon and Rodney died there. That I couldn't save them. Only now...now I mostly dream that it's Rodney I couldn't save."

"Why do you think that is?" Kate prompted.

That was the the question that had been taunting John for a while now. He thought he knew why, but he didn't want to face it. It was his failure to bear alone. So he shrugged and countered with, "If I knew that..."

"You wouldn't be talking to me," Kate finished for him.

"I warned you I suck at this talking thing," John countered. He met her gaze and he knew she wasn't buying his excuse. But he didn't have the courage to speak the truth. God he was such a mess right now.

After a moment of awkward silence, Kate asked him, "Why do you think you failed Dr. McKay?"

The question hit John like a slap in the face. He glared at Kate, feeling angry and scared and somehow betrayed. "I didn't fail him!" he snapped. "He's alive and safe, right here in Atlantis."

"That's right," Kate replied. "He is." She held the heat of John's gaze without flinching.

"I messed up," John whispered, dropping his gaze and burying his face in his hands. "I got lost and they almost died."

Kate was on her feet, one hand reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "But they didn't die, Colonel. You didn't fail." She paused as if waiting for him to reply, but when he didn't move or answer, she continued. "That's your demon. The one you can't overcome. Your fear of failure and the guilt it's festered within you."

John didn't believe her. Guilt was something he could deal with anyway, but he had no reason to feel guilty about Ronon and Rodney. They were alive and healing. "You're wrong," he muttered through his hands.

"I'm not talking about guilt from what happened in the cave," Kate replied. "At least, not just that guilt. I'm talking about the guilt you've built up since before you came to Atlantis, and the guilt you acquired when you stepped through the gate here and woke the Wraith."

"NO!" John hissed, his head shooting up at that. He felt all twisted up inside, all achy and hollow at the same time. She wasn't supposed to know about that guilty secret. No one was supposed to know. He had only mentioned it once, to Chaya. To someone he knew would never tell. But no one else was supposed to know.

Kate looked surprised by his anger, but she schooled her expression back to neutral and said softly, "You can't save everyone, Colonel. Just remember all the people you have saved, and try to save yourself now."

John didn't want to have this conversation so he shifted onto his side, facing away from her. "I'm tired," he whispered, and that wasn't a lie. He felt weary to the bone and worn out. Used and abused like an old rag, ripped, worn out then tossed away.

"I'll come back tomorrow," Kate said softly.

"No, I don't want to talk anymore," John replied. He knew he sounded sulky like a damn teenager, but he didn't care. Talking wasn't going to help him. He would find away to deal with the mess he had become on his own. He had done it alone in the past and he would do it again.

Kate hovered by his side for a moment, then she turned and walked away.

John closed his eyes and willed oblivion to claim him.

THE END...of part 19