WHAT'S LEFT BEHIND - Chapter 15
"Colonel?"
He heard Beckett's calling him and he even wanted to respond, but his tongue felt thick in his dry throat and it would take too much energy to make a sound. Still, John tried to at least open his eyes. His eyelids felt heavy and as if they were glued to his eyeballs. His entire body felt lethargic and achy. He shifted, feeling hardness underneath him and remembering that he was on the floor.
Hands were on him, helping him to move, then Carson asked softly, "Are you hurt anywhere, lad?"
"N-no," John managed to mumble. He got one eye open and reached out to try and untangle the blanket from his legs. Beckett helped him, then gripped him to get him on his feet. John swayed for a moment then they were moving towards the bed.
"Nightmare?" Carson queried, as he got John sitting down.
John simply nodded, seeing no reason to lie. Better to give an honest reason for why he got caught sleeping on the floor.
Carson took his pulse, muttering a bit. Then he tested for a fever the old fashioned way. Back of his hand to John's forehead. "I came to check on you," he said softly. "When you didn't respond I came in. You were so still you made my heart stop for a moment."
"S-sorry," John mumbled, then he reached for the glass of water on the bedstand with a shaky hand.
"Here, let me help." Carson snagged the glass then supported it while John took a sip. He put it back and said, "Get under the covers, Colonel. You need to rest for a bit."
John shook his head, then cleared his throat. It felt better after the water. "Need to pee," he said, hoarsely. "And a shower," he added. He felt cold and damp and sweaty and gritty.
Carson looked unhappy about the shower bit, but he was already helping John to his feet. "Let's get you to the bathroom first. If you can stand up well enough to pee on your own, I'll consider the shower."
"Okay." John didn't argue because he didn't have the energy or the desire to do so. Instead he let Beckett help him into the bathroom, pulling away once there. He closed the door and took care of his bladder, then he started stripping his clothes off. "I'm good to shower!" he yelled out to Beckett.
"I'll wait here for you then!" Carson shouted back.
Since he didn't need to reply to that, John simply started the shower up and got in. He kept it as hot as he could stand it without burning his skin, then he stood under it for a long time, just letting the heat soak into his skin. After a time he could feel the ache in his muscles and joints fading a bit. That's when he reached for the shampoo. A quick lather and rinse and John grabbed the soap and cleaned up. By the time he was done and dried off, he felt shaky again. But tired shaky this time.
"Colonel!" Beckett was banging on the door. "Are you all right?"
"Fine!" John replied, projecting as best he could. He was feeling a bit light-headed at the moment. Stumbling to the door, he opened it and stepped out, nearly colliding into Beckett's solid form. The good doc grabbed him by the shoulders and steadied him.
Guiding John over to the bed, Carson made him sit. "What do you want to sleep in and where do you keep them?" he asked.
John pointed to a drawer. "Sweats, t-shirts above, boxers above that." He watched Beckett collect everything then let him help to get dressed. It was easier than arguing about it and, if he was honest with himself, John wasn't sure he could have done it on his own. Finally he was able to crawl under the covers.
"Want to talk about it?" Carson asked, as he fussed with the blankets for a bit.
"Not really," John replied. "It was just a nightmare." And not one he was in a rush to relive.
Carson looked like he was going to argue the point, but instead he asked, "How's your neck feeling after sleeping on the floor?"
John flexed it a bit, wincing as it twinged. "A bit sore," he allowed. "But the shower helped."
"You need to get some food into you," Carson stated. "But I'm betting you're not feeling up to a trip to the messhall."
"Sucker bet," John drawled, and that earned him a weak smile.
But the smile soon faded from Carson's face. "I'll bring you something then. Rest while I'm gone."
Since all John wanted to do was sleep, he simply nodded then curled up on his side. But the moment Beckett was gone and he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, images of the dream popped into his head. They left John feeling jumpy and nauseous. He considered getting up and trying to read, but he really didn't have the energy. So he tried doing math in his head and, that seemed to do the trick. After a time he dozed off.
A hard knock on his door brought John back to awareness. Figuring it was Beckett with his food, he didn't get up. Instead he called out, "Come in!" John was surprised when Kate entered, carrying a tray.
"I hope you're hungry," she said, as she headed over to the table in the corner. "I brought a lot."
"Enough for three people," John commented, as he eyed the heaping plates.
Kate shrugged. "I figured I'd join you, if you don't mind." She moved to his bed side. "Carson told me about your nightmare. Well, he told me you had one that was bad enough to land you on the floor for the rest of the night."
John grimaced, but he didn't deny it. He had learned, a long time ago, that when dealing with a shrink it was best to stick as close to the truth as possible, and to own up to the things they had already caught you out on. "Is this an official session?" he asked, as he pushed back the covers and slid out of bed. Standing was wonky for a moment, but Kate grabbed his arm, which grounded him enough for the dizziness to pass. Realistically he knew it was probably caused by hunger. Not that John felt hungry, but he knew his body was starving for fuel.
"It can be official," Kate allowed, as she helped John over to the table. She sat down after he did.
"Might as well make it so," John replied. He let Kate set a plate in front of him, taking her own then removing the tray. Eyeing a piece of toast, John took a small bite. His stomach didn't protest it too much and a swallow of juice seemed to help.
Kate took a bite of eggs, chewed and swallowed, then said, "Will you tell me about the dream?"
It was on the tip of John's tongue to tell her no, but then he reminded himself that she was only trying to help him get better. And he really wanted to get better. So he gave her an abbreviated version of the important details. "I killed everyone. Ronon and Teyla and Rodney. And Thalan was there telling me there were more to kill. So I killed Carson to get to Elizabeth." John paused for a moment as the scene replayed itself in his head. He closed his eyes and whispered, "She begged for her life...but I shot her anyway." He blinked hard then said softly, "That's when I woke up. When I felt the blood spatter on my face."
"Why do you think you dreamed that?" Kate prompted. She had given up on eating and was sitting there, watching him intently.
"Hell if I know," John replied, going for sarcastic. But then he fell silent a moment, contemplating what it might really mean. He knew that Kate had been right before, when she told him he might be blaming Elizabeth for not getting rid of Caldwell sooner. John looked at Kate and said, "Subconsciously I blame her for what Caldwell did to me. I blame her for not protecting me." He raised a hand to stop Kate from responding. He wasn't finished yet. "The thing is, it's not her place to protect me. Protecting people is what I do. But I guess a part of me expected her too anyway. I expected everyone to watch my back like I watch theirs." John sighed and pushed away from the table. "But no one did," he whispered. "Not their fault." He needed to remember that. It wasn't their fault.
Kate was by his side, a hand on his arm, her expression warm and sympathetic. "They shoulder some of the blame," she said gently. "We all do."
John felt anger and resentment welling up from deep inside him. He let it go, rising from the chair as he glared at Kate. Even though she wasn't the one he was pissed at. "I never wanted to be imprinted in the first place! But Rodney and Beckett thought it would be fine. Basically a scientific experiment we might learn something from and in the end even Caldwell agreed to that. But it was Elizabeth who really wanted it!" John began to pace as he remembered how he had felt at the time. "I know it was Phoebus doing it, I know that now, but then...she wanted it so all of my protests were overridden. And I let it go, I let it happen, because Caldwell was there. Because I didn't want to oppose Elizabeth in front of him." John stopped pacing, the anger falling away abruptly, leaving him feeling a bit dizzy. "It's my own fault, really. My own stupid fault. But after it happened, if our positions had been reversed, I wouldn't have let her be treated the way I was treated." John broke off, horrified and angry, his head aching. Pain stabbed through his temples, leaving him feeling sick. "I'm sorry...sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have said that."
"Why not?" Kate was by his side, easing him over to sit on the bed. "If that's how you feel, Colonel...then it's okay to say it."
"I'm so messed up," John whispered, wishing he could crawl into a dark hole and disappear. Although right now he would settle for a bullet in the brain. Quick and easy and painless. Then he wouldn't have to deal with anything anymore. A part of John realized he should be horrified by his thoughts, but he wasn't. He was just so damn tired of everything.
Kate was easing him back against the pillows. "You're getting better. What happened to you was wrong, and it was out of your control. You have every right to be angry about it. To be angry at the people you trusted to help you and who failed you."
John didn't want to hear that. He just wanted oblivion right now. Nothing made sense anymore anyway. "I'm tired," he whispered, pointedly closing his eyes.
"Okay." Kate grabbed a blanket and drew it over him. "Do you want me to get Beckett?"
"No." Nothing more to say and John just lay there, listening as Kate moved about the room for a moment. He slitted his eyes and watched her put the plates back on the tray, then pick it up and head for the door. The moment she was gone he closed his eyes again. But he didn't sleep. He was afraid to dream.
OoO
John struggled through two more days. He continued flushing the pill Beckett gave him, still feeling guilty about doing so. He forced himself to eat when meals were brought, forced himself to rest in between the dreams. He then begged Beckett to let him work out with Teyla. After talking with Teyla, Beckett agreed to it. He believed some physical exercise would be good for John.
So that how he found himself in the gym with Teyla. She made him stretch first, working the kinks out of muscles that hadn't been used for some time. It was a bit painful, but it felt good. Then they did a warm up routine, using the sticks. John mostly remembered the moves but his reaction and reflexes were sluggish. After a while he realized he wasn't able to focus well either. Teyla easily knocked the sticks from his hands, time and time again.
She called a break and handed him a water bottle. "Do you wish to talk, John?" she asked him.
"Not really." He took a swig of water, feeling Teyla's eyes locked on him. "I talk enough with Kate," he said firmly.
"Will you listen then?" Teyla requested, somewhat formally.
John winced but nodded. He had a feeling he wasn't going to want to hear what she had to say, but he didn't want to be rude to her. She was a friend. "Sure, go ahead," he invited.
Teyla moved to face him, reaching out to touch his face with her fingertips until he was looking at her. "I wish to say that I am sorry."
"For what?" John was surprised because he couldn't think of anything Teyla had to be sorry for.
"I almost killed you," she whispered. "I would have if necessary."
John had almost forgotten about that. "We both know you had no choice and you've already apologized about it. Forget it."
Teyla looked surprised, then she countered, "Have you?"
"Yeah...I have." And it was the truth. He had forgotten about that part of the drama.
"What troubles you, John," Teyla prompted.
He definitely did not want to have this conversation. "I'm tired, I'm gonna go shower and take a nap. Thanks for the exercise." As he spoke John gathered up his sticks, stuffed them in his bag and headed for the door. When he reached his room he did shower, but by the time he came out and got dressed, someone was knocking on his door.
Rodney stood there, holding a tray. "Hungry?"
"Sure." John wasn't but he knew better than to turn down meals. Everyone was a snitch to Beckett about him these days. He stepped aside so Rodney could enter, then followed him over to the table.
"Um, Beckett wanted me to...um..." He broke off, looking painfully embarrassed.
John took pity on him and grabbed the pill bottle off the nightstand. He shook one out and popped it in his mouth, before striding over to the tray to grab the glass of milk he knew was for him. It was Beckett's new thing for him. Making sure John drank three glasses of milk a day. "Happy?" John asked, the pill safely ensconced under his tongue.
Rodney nodded, looking miserable. "Sorry about that."
"Forget it." John sat down at the table and reached for his pudding cup. Chocolate pudding. He took a spoonful, sucked half into his mouth, all the while pushing the pill into what was left. Then he put the cup back down, feeling Rodney watching him. "Just wanted to see if it was any good tonight," John explained. "The other night it tasted like chocolate flavored chalk."
"Yeah, that happens sometimes," Rodney commiserated, as he sat down across from John. "The stew looks pretty good tonight though."
John eyed the stuff, doubtfully, but made himself take a bite. "Not bad." He and Rodney then passed the next few minutes with stilted small talk. He just didn't have the energy for company right now, but he made the attempt so that Rodney would report back to Beckett that he was fine.
Rodney, thankfully, didn't seem to notice anything was amiss. He chatted on and on between bites.
All the while John poked at his food and tried to smile and respond in all the right places. He felt jittery today. On edge. His head ached and Rodney's not stop talking wasn't helping. In fact he was about to beg off the rest of the meal, pleading the need of a nap, when Rodney's radio went off. They both listened to Zelenka on the other end, then Rodney was on his feet, heading for the door.
He stopped and started back for the trays.
"I'll get them," John said, waving him off.
"Oh, good," Rodney replied. "I swear no one can run simple diagnostics without me." That said, he waved and was gone.
The sudden silence was bliss. John moved to the bed and collapsed on it. He fell asleep immediately but jolted awake from another nightmare, heart pounding in his chest, pain throbbing in his temples. He was shivering, skin slick with a cold sweat, so he pushed off the bed and headed for the shower, checking his watch. He'd only slept for an hour. John figured he'd shower, take care of the trays, then maybe go for a walk.
This time he took clothes in with him, having been caught out too many times in the past few weeks. Beckett was always walking in on him it seemed. By the time he was showered and dressed, John felt better. Until he returned to his room to find Beckett standing there, glaring at him. "What's wrong?" John asked, although he wasn't sure he really wanted to know.
Beckett was standing next to the table. He grabbed John's pudding cup then moved forward to shove it under his nose. Floating on top was the tiny, white, pill. "How long?" Carson demanded.
John knew what he was asking, he also knew he couldn't lie about it. "I haven't taken any of them."
"Dammit, Colonel!" Carson exploded. "I thought you wanted to get better?"
"I am getting better!" John shot back, his own anger flaring up. "You've said so yourself. Kate too! I'm getting better and I'm doing it without the DAMN PILLS!" He was so pissed off he was shaking now.
Carson almost flinched, taking a step back and making an obvious effort to get himself calmed down. He took a few deep breaths then said, "I actually came here to talk to you about your recovery, Colonel. I've spoken to Kate as well and we both agree that you should have been progressing better by now. And had you been taking the pills...you would have been. They would help you to control your nightmares. You would sleep better and that would help with the other issues. I told you, you need the pills to get you through this."
John didn't want to listen anymore."GET OUT!" he screamed at Beckett. "GET OUT AND LEAVE ME ALONE!" Invading Beckett's personal space, he continued his rant. "I don't need any of you! You weren't there for me before, why the hell should I think you give a damn now?" John knew he was out of control right now. He knew it but he didn't care. He stepped around Beckett and over to the mirror on the wall. He stared at his reflection for a moment, not recognizing the man staring back, then he cocked his fist and punched the mirror, watching it shatter. Then he punched the wall again...and again...and again.
He didn't stop. He welcomed the pain. Vaguely John was aware of Beckett screaming at him, of hands pulling at him. Then he was on the floor, struggling against the weight pushing him down. Screaming now, screaming and fighting until a sting in his shoulder brought the world crashing down upon him. John slid into oblivion.
THE END...of part 15