What's Left Behind – Chapter 16

Elizabeth scanned the infirmary as she entered. Quickly spotting Carson working on a patient, she hurried across the room, taking note of the still figure on the bed. John looked like he was sleeping, except for the strained expression on his face, almost as if he were in pain. Carson was putting the finishing touches on a cast on John's right hand.

"I was holed up in a meeting with some of the lead scientists and I just got your message. What happened?"

As Beckett eased John's arm down to the bed, she saw anger flash in his eyes and she knew she wasn't going to like this.

"Bloody fool. He hasn't taken any of the anti-depressant pills I've been giving him for almost a week now. I thought we had enough in his system to start really making a difference and helping him, but he's been ditching them since the beginning."

Elizabeth was stunned and her open mouth and wide eyes only accented the emotion. "Are you sure? How do you know?"

"I went to check on him and his food tray was sitting there with his pill floating around in his pudding. I guess he's been stashing them in his uneaten food. When I confronted him, he admitted he hadn't taken any of them." Beckett ran his hand through his hair as he sighed heavily. "And then we yelled for a minute or two . . . and he said we didn't care about him . . . and then he punched his mirror and moved on to the wall."

Beckett looked up at her, the anger gone and replaced by a sadness she hadn't seen since the retrovirus had John on death's door. "He was out of control, Elizabeth. He just kept hitting the wall and yelling until I knocked him to the floor and sedated him."

Elizabeth walked closer to John's bed and looked down at his hands. Tiny cuts were scattered across the fingers of his left hand. The right hand was in a cast, once again with tiny cuts on the fingers. "Are the cuts from the mirror?"

"Aye, and he broke two bones in his hand as well. He was hitting the wall as hard as he could. Even as strong as the Ancients made this place, he did some damage to his quarters."

Elizabeth's brow was deeply furrowed. "What do we do now? I'm assuming this has set him back."

"We're probably all the way back to where we started, or maybe even farther. I don't really know what comes next. We need to wait until he wakes up and talk to him. I probably need to contact Kate and let her know what's happened." Beckett shook his head in obvious frustration. "For a few days I honestly thought we were making progress."

"I still think we made some progress. Kate got him to talk about things that gave her some idea about what was going on in his head. Maybe it'll make things go more quickly this time, maybe we'll know what to watch for better. We can't give up on him, Carson." Elizabeth knew she probably sounded like she was begging, but she would do what was necessary to help John. She had already let him down once, she wasn't going to abandon him as well.

"No one's giving up on him, I promise you that. We'll stick with him as long as it takes." Beckett figured that was the least they could do since he felt they had helped create the problem in the first place.

oOo

John first noticed the way his tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of his mouth. He felt sluggish and heavy and he knew he'd been sedated. As consciousness slowly crept in, he polled his body, finding his right hand not only hurt, but wouldn't seem to move properly. He wasn't quite awake enough yet to figure out a possible reason. He could open his eyes, but he just didn't want to. He lay there for several minutes, listening to the sounds of movement and muffled talking around him.

"Colonel, I know you're awake. Can we talk?" He immediately recognized Carson's voice, Not much way to incorrectly identify that Scottish brogue. He allowed his eyes to slide open and blinked heavily against the gritty feeling it produced. As long as his eyes were open, he looked down at his hand to see what the problem was. "I broke my hand?"

Carson sighed. "Yes, Colonel, that's what happens when you hit the wall repeatedly with that much force." Carson knew the anger and frustration he felt came out in his tone of voice, but he felt Sheppard needed to hear some of it.

John looked up at Carson, wide-eyed. "I remember hitting the mirror, I think, but not the wall."

"You don't remember pounding the wall until you broke two bones in your hand?"

John squinted, deep in thought. He remembered Beckett finding the pill and them fighting. He remembered feeling more angry than he ever had in his life, to the point he punched the mirror. And then . . . that was where it ended. It was like time stopped there.

"Colonel?"

John returned his focus to Carson. "No, I don't remember hitting the wall, just the mirror." He wondered if he should be worried about that. It was then that he noticed something that surprised him. "I'm not in restraints."

"No, Colonel, you're not. I didn't want to use them unless I had to. I don't need to get them out, do I?"

"No," he said quietly. He shuddered at the thought of being tied down again.

Carson crossed his arms as he gazed down at Sheppard. "We need to talk."

John could feel the anger rising again, threatening to overwhelm him. The force of it made him feel sick and dizzy as they started their battle all over again. "What you mean is you'll talk and tell me what I can and can't do and I have to sit and listen. Maybe I'm tired of being told what to do. I'm not taking your pills!"

Beckett sucked in a deep breath, not expecting this strong a reaction before he had even started talking to the pilot. "Colonel, you need to calm down. When I said we are going to talk, I meant both of us. I just want to figure out where we are in all of this."

"I'm royally screwed is where we're at, so what else is new?"

Beckett was a bit taken aback by the bitterness in Sheppard's voice. "We're just trying to help you, you have to know that."

"Don't bother," he said with a hard, humorless laugh. He felt his insides going cold again, the lethargy washing over him and trying to smother him. He just wanted to be left alone. He reached up and rubbed his head with his left hand, a headache beginning to gnaw at the inside of his skull. "Just leave me alone."

Beckett realized that he wasn't going to get anywhere talking at the moment. He just hoped Sheppard would calm down and open up later. "Can I get you something to eat?"

"No," came the simple and expected reply.

Beckett thought about pointing out that he would have to eat sometime, but decided the best course of action was to let the Colonel be for a while. "All right, lad. Let me know if you need anything." He only hoped tomorrow would be easier.

oOo

Elizabeth looked up as Kate and Carson entered her office, their expressions grim. Her heart dropped a few inches, knowing who the visit was about and that it wasn't good news. If she needed any further indication of how serious they were, Carson closed the door behind him.

"Elizabeth, we need to talk to you."

She nodded and gestured to the chairs, not willing to speak until she somehow swallowed the lump in her throat. As soon as they sat down, Carson spoke up.

"We're not making any progress. I know that isn't what you want to hear, but it's the honest truth. He won't talk to either of us, except an occasional short yes or no answer. He refuses to eat, much less take the medication. He's shut himself off and given up. He just keeps telling me to leave him alone."

Elizabeth was startled. She had visited him a few times and knew he hadn't been cooperating, but hadn't realized it was so serious. "He hasn't eaten at all? It's been almost a week."

Beckett shook his head. "Not a bite."

Elizabeth rubbed her forehead a second. "Why is he doing this?"

Kate moved forward in her seat a few inches as she began to address the question. "We have a couple of theories on that. Depression does play havoc on the digestive system and we know the Colonel is very susceptible to that from his inability to keep down food before. It could be that he's suffering the same sort of trouble now and just doesn't want to start vomiting again. It could also be a control issue. He's lost control over everything in his life and this could be a way of reestablishing at least a small element of control. Another possibility is he's punishing himself. He's expressed about an equal amount of disappointment in our ability to protect him as well as in his ability protect others around him. He carries an enormous amount of guilt. It could be a combination of these."

"Elizabeth," said Carson, "the thing is that I can't let him go on like this indefinitely. He was seriously underweight and weak from his earlier bouts with the nausea and the catatonic state. He's already as low as he can go safely and we have to do something to correct it now. If he doesn't eat by tomorrow, I'm putting in a temporary feeding tube. I'll run a tube from his nose down to his stomach and feed him that way until we can get him to eat again."

Elizabeth blew out a deep breath, trying to convince herself that this was some really bad nightmare and if she just hung on a few more seconds, she would wake up. But she knew, with entirely too much clarity, that this was no dream. "Carson, you can't do that. He's barely hanging on by a thread. I can't even begin to imagine what that will do to him. There has to be another way."

Beckett shook his head. "Not unless you want to sacrifice his physical well being. He's so weak he can only stand with help. He can't even make it to the bathroom by his self any more. I'm going to tell him when we're done here, but I wanted you to know. Maybe you could talk to him."

"I . . . I can try. I don't know what I could say that hasn't already been said, but I'll certainly try. Surely he won't actually push this that far." She looked from Carson to Kate, but neither of them would look her in the eye. "You think he will, don't you?"

Kate shrugged her shoulders. "He can be stubborn sometimes. If this is his only element of control, he's going to be reluctant to give it up."

Oh crap. How had they gone from a simple imprinting that was going to last a few hours to John on a feeding tube? She suddenly wished she had that time-traveling puddle jumper so she could go back and tell them to leave the pod with Phoebus out in space.

oOo

Elizabeth was shocked that even though she had visited John several times since the episode in his quarters, she apparently hadn't actually seen him in some time. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed how dull and lifeless his eyes had become or how hollow and sunken his face was. How had she missed the way the scrubs hung loosely on his gaunt form or how thin his arms had become? His skin wasn't so much pale as it seemed almost translucent. She was startled to find the evidence sitting obviously before her that she had refused to see. John was quite literally starving himself to death. She shuddered as she thought about how she had let him down, yet again.

"John?"

John shifted his eyes to see Elizabeth tentatively approaching his bed. She looked a little like she'd just seen a ghost and it took a few seconds for him to register that the ghost was him. There was a time when he would have sat up and tried to look a little more presentable, but he just didn't have the energy or the desire any more. He just wanted this to be over, all of it.

Elizabeth took his left hand in hers, careful of the IV that had been started in his forearm. His thin fingers lay limply in hers, feeling cold against her warm flesh. "John, I just talked to Kate and Carson. Carson said you really need to eat. John, I know you're . . . " She faltered a minute, the tears welling up in her eyes as emotion swelled in her throat where she couldn't speak. She was losing him and it was her fault. Her breath hitched as she fought for control.

John just watched behind an emotionless mask, faint regret stirring within, but not surfacing enough for him to act on. He watched the emotional battle with little more than slight interest in whether or not she would get her speech out before she cried.

Elizabeth finally succeeded in getting her voice back and tightened her grip on John's hand, as much for her benefit as for his. "Sorry about that. Anyway, Carson said if you don't eat by tomorrow, he'll have to insert a temporary feeding tube. I know he doesn't want to, but you're scaring us. I hate to admit it, but I haven't let myself see how thin you've become. I haven't let myself see that you're starving yourself because I didn't want to see it, I didn't want it to be true. John, I know you're angry with me and . . . well, with all of us to some degree. I know that we've let you down again and again. I can only tell you that we didn't mean to and that we were only doing what we thought was best at the time. Some serious mistakes were made, most of them mine. I'm just asking you to let us help you now. We want you to get better. We need you, Atlantis needs you."

John looked back up at her, seeming to pay attention for the first time. "No you don't, no one needs me. Let me go Elizabeth. I'm broken and you can't fix me, no one can. Just send me back to Earth. It hurts too much to be here." He pulled his hand away from her and turned over on his side, his back to her. That simple act seemed to take every ounce of strength he had and she could hear his labored breath for several seconds as he recovered from the effort.

She felt the tears stinging her cheeks again and she wiped them quickly away. "Please John, don't do this. If you're broken, then we did it and we aren't sending you away. We don't leave our people behind and that includes you. We drove you to this place and we won't quit until we bring you back, so you might as well stop telling us to. We can help you, but you have to let us. Just eat something and then we can talk, you can talk."

"I'm not eating. Go away." He pulled the blanket up tightly around his bony shoulders and pushed his face down into the pillow.

Elizabeth put her hand on his shoulder. "Please, just think about it. In spite of what you think right now, we care about you very deeply John Sheppard. We won't let you drive us away." She gave his arm a final squeeze and left before the tears overtook her again. When she reached the hall, Kate and Carson were standing just outside the infirmary doors and she almost barreled right into them. Carson caught her by the arms and steadied her.

"Slow down, lass. I take it things didn't go well."

"Oh, Carson. How did I not see this? How did I not see how bad it was or how close he was to starving himself? I feel like such an idiot."

Kate shook her head. "No, you're not an idiot. Sometimes it's hard to see how low the ones we love have sunk. That's why outside help is often needed in cases like this."

Elizabeth just nodded. "I don't think he'll eat."

Carson put his hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "Aye, I'm afraid you're probably right. We'll do what we need to in order to keep him alive and hope that eventually he'll let us help him."

oOo

John lay in the infirmary watching the activity around him all morning. After waking from another nightmare in the middle of the night, he'd lain awake, waiting on the dawn and the increase in activity that accompanied it. This nightmare had at least been different than most of his others. The Wraith had captured him and were force feeding him through a tube to fatten him up before they made a meal out of him. That somehow made him think of Hansel and Gretel and then he thought of leaving a trail of breadcrumbs through a hive ship to find his way back out. But he hadn't needed the trail out because in the end, they successfully added the pounds to him and made quite a feast. He probably would have been sick if he'd had anything in his stomach, but since he didn't, he was able to swallow back the bile that rose in his throat.

So he lay there, trying not to think of what was to come. But he'd made his stand and he was sticking to it. They had taken everything away from him, stripped him of every possible freedom. They could tell him to eat, but they couldn't actually make him. Well, there was the feeding tube, but that wasn't the same as making him eat. If he stayed his ground, eventually they would have to leave him alone and he could just drift, not having to listen to stupid speeches or be expected to answer stupid questions. He wasn't aware that his eyes had closed or that he had begun to doze until Carson's voice startled him.

"Colonel?"

He looked up at the doctor. He wasn't so far gone that he didn't see the pain in his eyes or that he didn't feel something deep down inside. He just didn't feel it enough to respond to it.

"It's time. I need to know if you're willing to eat something. I could send Marcy out for some broth if you'd like to try."

John took a deep breath and fueled his reserve. "No, I told you, I'm not eating."

Beckett sighed and John couldn't help but feel a small sense of satisfaction as he realized that the physician had expected him to cave in when the time came, like he had before. He knew he was going to hate this, but he kept reminding himself that he was in control.

"John, please, don't make me do this." John smiled the saddest smile Beckett had ever seen.

"You've slowly taken everything away. I've been told for weeks what I can and can't do and where I can and can't go. I've been told when I could leave my quarters and when to eat and when to pee and when to take pills and when to sleep. I'm sick of it. I don't want to eat and I don't want your stupid pills and I'm not doing it, so leave me alone!"

Beckett nodded. "All right lad, you leave me no choice." He turned around and called to one of the nurses, who carried over a tray with a cloth over it. Beckett reached under the cloth and pulled out a syringe, emptying into Sheppard's IV port.

John's stomach tightened in fear and dread. "What's that?"

"It's just a little something to relax you and make this a tad easier on both of us I hope."

Beckett raised the head of the bed so that John was sitting up as the nurse walked around to the other side of the bed. Next, the physician removed the cloth covering the tray and began to put on a pair of gloves, the nurse standing ready to help. He then picked up a long, clear tube and began to place something on the end.

"All right, Colonel, this may be somewhat uncomfortable. I'll be inserting a nasogastric tube through your nostril and threading it down to your stomach. I have some ice chips or some water, which ever you prefer and I'll need you to swallow some periodically to help me advance the tube. I'll then be able to get some nourishment into you and hopefully keep you from starving to death. Do you have any questions?"

Beckett paused, watching Sheppard, obviously hoping the man would change his mind.

"No, I don't want that thing in me."

Beckett seemed almost relieved as he let out a deep breath. "So, you'll eat something?"

"No, I'm not eating and you're not putting that tube in me." Even as he protested and planned on putting up a fight, he could feel the sluggishness working its way through him. Beckett and his drugs, taking one more thing away from him.

Beckett's expression hardened and his jaw tightened. "Colonel Sheppard, you will eat today one way or another. If you won't feed yourself, then I'll do it through this tube, even if I have to do it by force."

John glared at him. "You do what you have to do and so will I." John turned his head away from Beckett and began to slouch down further into the bed. He didn't see Beckett nod to the nurse or the nurse go for reinforcements. The next thing he knew, his movements were even more uncoordinated and sluggish and being hampered by two male techs and the nurse. His arms were put in restraints and he was held back against the pillow by one man while the other held his head still. He jerked and pulled and struggled, but he was too weak and drugged to actually put up much of a fight.

He closed his eyes tightly against the invasion as he felt the nurse spray something in his nose. Then the tube was going in and he could feel it advancing down the back of his throat. He gagged until what little bile and fluid was in his stomach came up all over him and the people holding him down. He didn't care, if it only meant they would stop. Bucking and trying to pull away from the hands holding him down, he just wanted to scream or pass out or die, he didn't much care which at this point. The taste in his mouth was nasty and he felt a cup pressed to his lips. He swallowed a few sips to get the taste out of his mouth and throat and realized too late that he'd been tricked. He had inadvertently helped them move the tube down his throat. He started gagging again, bringing up the little bit of water he'd just swallowed.

He could feel the tube and he pulled violently on the restraints, wanting desperately to grab the thing and pull it out. He struggled against them as they fought to get him settled and clean him up until the gray haze that had been swimming around him since they began finally settled in enough to completely overtake him. He could feel hands on him and hear the noise of voices in the background as he faded away and silently hoped he would never wake up.

THE END . . . of part 16.